الفصل الفصل 34 · THE YANKEE AND THE KING SOLD AS SLAVES

THE YANKEE AND THE KING SOLD AS SLAVES

Well, what had I better do? Nothing in a hurry, sure. I must

get up a diversion; anything to employ me while I could think,

and while these poor fellows could have a chance to come to life

again. There sat Marco, petrified in the act of trying to get

the hang of his miller-gun--turned to stone, just in the attitude

he was in when my pile-driver fell, the toy still gripped in his

unconscious fingers. So I took it from him and proposed to explain

its mystery. Mystery! a simple little thing like that; and yet it

was mysterious enough, for that race and that age.

I never saw such an awkward people, with machinery; you see, they

were totally unused to it. The miller-gun was a little double-barreled

tube of toughened glass, with a neat little trick of a spring

to it, which upon pressure would let a shot escape. But the shot

wouldn't hurt anybody, it would only drop into your hand. In the

gun were two sizes--wee mustard-seed shot, and another sort that

were several times larger. They were money. The mustard-seed

shot represented milrays, the larger ones mills. So the gun was

a purse; and very handy, too; you could pay out money in the dark

with it, with accuracy; and you could carry it in your mouth; or

in your vest pocket, if you had one. I made them of several sizes

--one size so large that it would carry the equivalent of a dollar.

Using shot for money was a good thing for the government; the metal

cost nothing, and the money couldn't be counterfeited, for I was

the only person in the kingdom who knew how to manage a shot tower.

“Paying the shot” soon came to be a common phrase. Yes, and I knew

it would still be passing men's lips, away down in the nineteenth

century, yet none would suspect how and when it originated.

The king joined us, about this time, mightily refreshed by his nap,

and feeling good. Anything could make me nervous now, I was so

uneasy--for our lives were in danger; and so it worried me to

detect a complacent something in the king's eye which seemed to

indicate that he had been loading himself up for a performance

of some kind or other; confound it, why must he go and choose

such a time as this?

I was right. He began, straight off, in the most innocently

artful, and transparent, and lubberly way, to lead up to the

subject of agriculture. The cold sweat broke out all over me.

I wanted to whisper in his ear, “Man, we are in awful danger!

every moment is worth a principality till we get back these men's

confidence; _don't_ waste any of this golden time.” But of course

I couldn't do it. Whisper to him? It would look as if we were

conspiring. So I had to sit there and look calm and pleasant while

the king stood over that dynamite mine and mooned along about his

damned onions and things. At first the tumult of my own thoughts,

summoned by the danger-signal and swarming to the rescue from

every quarter of my skull, kept up such a hurrah and confusion

and fifing and drumming that I couldn't take in a word; but

presently when my mob of gathering plans began to crystallize

and fall into position and form line of battle, a sort of order and

quiet ensued and I caught the boom of the king's batteries, as if

out of remote distance:

“--were not the best way, methinks, albeit it is not to be denied

that authorities differ as concerning this point, some contending

that the onion is but an unwholesome berry when stricken early

from the tree--”

The audience showed signs of life, and sought each other's eyes

in a surprised and troubled way.

“--whileas others do yet maintain, with much show of reason, that

this is not of necessity the case, instancing that plums and other

like cereals do be always dug in the unripe state--”

The audience exhibited distinct distress; yes, and also fear.

“--yet are they clearly wholesome, the more especially when one

doth assuage the asperities of their nature by admixture of the

tranquilizing juice of the wayward cabbage--”

The wild light of terror began to glow in these men's eyes, and

one of them muttered, “These be errors, every one--God hath surely

smitten the mind of this farmer.” I was in miserable apprehension;

I sat upon thorns.

“--and further instancing the known truth that in the case of

animals, the young, which may be called the green fruit of the

creature, is the better, all confessing that when a goat is ripe,

his fur doth heat and sore engame his flesh, the which defect,

taken in connection with his several rancid habits, and fulsome

appetites, and godless attitudes of mind, and bilious quality

of morals--”

They rose and went for him! With a fierce shout, “The one would

betray us, the other is mad! Kill them! Kill them!” they flung

themselves upon us. What joy flamed up in the king's eye! He

might be lame in agriculture, but this kind of thing was just in

his line. He had been fasting long, he was hungry for a fight.

He hit the blacksmith a crack under the jaw that lifted him clear

off his feet and stretched him flat on his back. “St. George for

Britain!” and he downed the wheelwright. The mason was big, but

I laid him out like nothing. The three gathered themselves up and

came again; went down again; came again; and kept on repeating

this, with native British pluck, until they were battered to jelly,

reeling with exhaustion, and so blind that they couldn't tell us

from each other; and yet they kept right on, hammering away with

what might was left in them. Hammering each other--for we stepped

aside and looked on while they rolled, and struggled, and gouged,

and pounded, and bit, with the strict and wordless attention to

business of so many bulldogs. We looked on without apprehension,

for they were fast getting past ability to go for help against us,

and the arena was far enough from the public road to be safe

from intrusion.

Well, while they were gradually playing out, it suddenly occurred

to me to wonder what had become of Marco. I looked around; he

was nowhere to be seen. Oh, but this was ominous! I pulled the

king's sleeve, and we glided away and rushed for the hut. No Marco

there, no Phyllis there! They had gone to the road for help, sure.

I told the king to give his heels wings, and I would explain later.

We made good time across the open ground, and as we darted into

the shelter of the wood I glanced back and saw a mob of excited

peasants swarm into view, with Marco and his wife at their head.

They were making a world of noise, but that couldn't hurt anybody;

the wood was dense, and as soon as we were well into its depths

we would take to a tree and let them whistle. Ah, but then came

another sound--dogs! Yes, that was quite another matter. It

magnified our contract--we must find running water.

We tore along at a good gait, and soon left the sounds far behind

and modified to a murmur. We struck a stream and darted into it.

We waded swiftly down it, in the dim forest light, for as much

as three hundred yards, and then came across an oak with a great

bough sticking out over the water. We climbed up on this bough,

and began to work our way along it to the body of the tree; now

we began to hear those sounds more plainly; so the mob had struck

our trail. For a while the sounds approached pretty fast. And

then for another while they didn't. No doubt the dogs had found

the place where we had entered the stream, and were now waltzing

up and down the shores trying to pick up the trail again.

When we were snugly lodged in the tree and curtained with foliage,

the king was satisfied, but I was doubtful. I believed we could

crawl along a branch and get into the next tree, and I judged it

worth while to try. We tried it, and made a success of it, though

the king slipped, at the junction, and came near failing to connect.

We got comfortable lodgment and satisfactory concealment among

the foliage, and then we had nothing to do but listen to the hunt.

Presently we heard it coming--and coming on the jump, too; yes,

and down both sides of the stream. Louder--louder--next minute

it swelled swiftly up into a roar of shoutings, barkings, tramplings,

and swept by like a cyclone.

“I was afraid that the overhanging branch would suggest something

to them,” said I, “but I don't mind the disappointment. Come,

my liege, it were well that we make good use of our time. We've

flanked them. Dark is coming on, presently. If we can cross the

stream and get a good start, and borrow a couple of horses from

somebody's pasture to use for a few hours, we shall be safe enough.”

We started down, and got nearly to the lowest limb, when we seemed

to hear the hunt returning. We stopped to listen.

“Yes,” said I, “they're baffled, they've given it up, they're on

their way home. We will climb back to our roost again, and let

them go by.”

So we climbed back. The king listened a moment and said:

“They still search--I wit the sign. We did best to abide.”

He was right. He knew more about hunting than I did. The noise

approached steadily, but not with a rush. The king said:

“They reason that we were advantaged by no parlous start of them,

and being on foot are as yet no mighty way from where we took

the water.”

“Yes, sire, that is about it, I am afraid, though I was hoping

better things.”

The noise drew nearer and nearer, and soon the van was drifting

under us, on both sides of the water. A voice called a halt from

the other bank, and said:

“An they were so minded, they could get to yon tree by this branch

that overhangs, and yet not touch ground. Ye will do well to send

a man up it.”

“Marry, that we will do!”

I was obliged to admire my cuteness in foreseeing this very thing

and swapping trees to beat it. But, don't you know, there are

some things that can beat smartness and foresight? Awkwardness

and stupidity can. The best swordsman in the world doesn't need

to fear the second best swordsman in the world; no, the person

for him to be afraid of is some ignorant antagonist who has never

had a sword in his hand before; he doesn't do the thing he ought

to do, and so the expert isn't prepared for him; he does the thing

he ought not to do; and often it catches the expert out and ends

him on the spot. Well, how could I, with all my gifts, make any

valuable preparation against a near-sighted, cross-eyed, pudding-headed

clown who would aim himself at the wrong tree and hit the right

one? And that is what he did. He went for the wrong tree, which

was, of course, the right one by mistake, and up he started.

Matters were serious now. We remained still, and awaited developments.

The peasant toiled his difficult way up. The king raised himself

up and stood; he made a leg ready, and when the comer's head

arrived in reach of it there was a dull thud, and down went the man

floundering to the ground. There was a wild outbreak of anger

below, and the mob swarmed in from all around, and there we were

treed, and prisoners. Another man started up; the bridging bough

was detected, and a volunteer started up the tree that furnished

the bridge. The king ordered me to play Horatius and keep the

bridge. For a while the enemy came thick and fast; but no matter,

the head man of each procession always got a buffet that dislodged

him as soon as he came in reach. The king's spirits rose, his joy

was limitless. He said that if nothing occurred to mar the prospect

we should have a beautiful night, for on this line of tactics we

could hold the tree against the whole country-side.

However, the mob soon came to that conclusion themselves; wherefore

they called off the assault and began to debate other plans.

They had no weapons, but there were plenty of stones, and stones

might answer. We had no objections. A stone might possibly

penetrate to us once in a while, but it wasn't very likely; we were

well protected by boughs and foliage, and were not visible from

any good aiming point. If they would but waste half an hour in

stone-throwing, the dark would come to our help. We were feeling

very well satisfied. We could smile; almost laugh.

But we didn't; which was just as well, for we should have been

interrupted. Before the stones had been raging through the leaves

and bouncing from the boughs fifteen minutes, we began to notice

a smell. A couple of sniffs of it was enough of an explanation

--it was smoke! Our game was up at last. We recognized that. When

smoke invites you, you have to come. They raised their pile of

dry brush and damp weeds higher and higher, and when they saw

the thick cloud begin to roll up and smother the tree, they broke

out in a storm of joy-clamors. I got enough breath to say:

“Proceed, my liege; after you is manners.”

The king gasped:

“Follow me down, and then back thyself against one side of the

trunk, and leave me the other. Then will we fight. Let each pile

his dead according to his own fashion and taste.”

Then he descended, barking and coughing, and I followed. I struck

the ground an instant after him; we sprang to our appointed places,

and began to give and take with all our might. The powwow and

racket were prodigious; it was a tempest of riot and confusion and

thick-falling blows. Suddenly some horsemen tore into the midst

of the crowd, and a voice shouted:

“Hold--or ye are dead men!”

How good it sounded! The owner of the voice bore all the marks of

a gentleman: picturesque and costly raiment, the aspect of command,

a hard countenance, with complexion and features marred by dissipation.

The mob fell humbly back, like so many spaniels. The gentleman

inspected us critically, then said sharply to the peasants:

“What are ye doing to these people?”

“They be madmen, worshipful sir, that have come wandering we know

not whence, and--”

“Ye know not whence? Do ye pretend ye know them not?”

“Most honored sir, we speak but the truth. They are strangers

and unknown to any in this region; and they be the most violent

and bloodthirsty madmen that ever--”

“Peace! Ye know not what ye say. They are not mad. Who are ye?

And whence are ye? Explain.”

“We are but peaceful strangers, sir,” I said, “and traveling upon

our own concerns. We are from a far country, and unacquainted

here. We have purposed no harm; and yet but for your brave

interference and protection these people would have killed us.

As you have divined, sir, we are not mad; neither are we violent

or bloodthirsty.”

The gentleman turned to his retinue and said calmly: “Lash me

these animals to their kennels!”

The mob vanished in an instant; and after them plunged the horsemen,

laying about them with their whips and pitilessly riding down such

as were witless enough to keep the road instead of taking to the

bush. The shrieks and supplications presently died away in the

distance, and soon the horsemen began to straggle back. Meantime

the gentleman had been questioning us more closely, but had dug

no particulars out of us. We were lavish of recognition of the

service he was doing us, but we revealed nothing more than that we

were friendless strangers from a far country. When the escort were

all returned, the gentleman said to one of his servants:

“Bring the led-horses and mount these people.”

“Yes, my lord.”

We were placed toward the rear, among the servants. We traveled

pretty fast, and finally drew rein some time after dark at a

roadside inn some ten or twelve miles from the scene of our

troubles. My lord went immediately to his room, after ordering

his supper, and we saw no more of him. At dawn in the morning

we breakfasted and made ready to start.

My lord's chief attendant sauntered forward at that moment with

indolent grace, and said:

“Ye have said ye should continue upon this road, which is our

direction likewise; wherefore my lord, the earl Grip, hath given

commandment that ye retain the horses and ride, and that certain

of us ride with ye a twenty mile to a fair town that hight Cambenet,

whenso ye shall be out of peril.”

We could do nothing less than express our thanks and accept the

offer. We jogged along, six in the party, at a moderate and

comfortable gait, and in conversation learned that my lord Grip

was a very great personage in his own region, which lay a day's

journey beyond Cambenet. We loitered to such a degree that it was

near the middle of the forenoon when we entered the market square

of the town. We dismounted, and left our thanks once more for

my lord, and then approached a crowd assembled in the center of

the square, to see what might be the object of interest. It was the

remnant of that old peregrinating band of slaves! So they had

been dragging their chains about, all this weary time. That poor

husband was gone, and also many others; and some few purchases

had been added to the gang. The king was not interested, and

wanted to move along, but I was absorbed, and full of pity. I could

not take my eyes away from these worn and wasted wrecks of humanity.

There they sat, grounded upon the ground, silent, uncomplaining,

with bowed heads, a pathetic sight. And by hideous contrast, a

redundant orator was making a speech to another gathering not thirty

steps away, in fulsome laudation of “our glorious British liberties!”

I was boiling. I had forgotten I was a plebeian, I was remembering

I was a man. Cost what it might, I would mount that rostrum and--

Click! the king and I were handcuffed together! Our companions,

those servants, had done it; my lord Grip stood looking on. The

king burst out in a fury, and said:

“What meaneth this ill-mannered jest?”

My lord merely said to his head miscreant, coolly:

“Put up the slaves and sell them!”

_Slaves!_ The word had a new sound--and how unspeakably awful! The

king lifted his manacles and brought them down with a deadly force;

but my lord was out of the way when they arrived. A dozen of

the rascal's servants sprang forward, and in a moment we were

helpless, with our hands bound behind us. We so loudly and so

earnestly proclaimed ourselves freemen, that we got the interested

attention of that liberty-mouthing orator and his patriotic crowd,

and they gathered about us and assumed a very determined attitude.

The orator said:

“If, indeed, ye are freemen, ye have nought to fear--the God-given

liberties of Britain are about ye for your shield and shelter!

(Applause.) Ye shall soon see. Bring forth your proofs.”

“What proofs?”

“Proof that ye are freemen.”

Ah--I remembered! I came to myself; I said nothing. But the

king stormed out:

“Thou'rt insane, man. It were better, and more in reason, that

this thief and scoundrel here prove that we are _not_ freemen.”

You see, he knew his own laws just as other people so often know

the laws; by words, not by effects. They take a _meaning_, and get

to be very vivid, when you come to apply them to yourself.

All hands shook their heads and looked disappointed; some turned

away, no longer interested. The orator said--and this time in the

tones of business, not of sentiment:

“An ye do not know your country's laws, it were time ye learned

them. Ye are strangers to us; ye will not deny that. Ye may be

freemen, we do not deny that; but also ye may be slaves. The law

is clear: it doth not require the claimant to prove ye are slaves,

it requireth you to prove ye are not.”

I said:

“Dear sir, give us only time to send to Astolat; or give us only

time to send to the Valley of Holiness--”

“Peace, good man, these are extraordinary requests, and you may

not hope to have them granted. It would cost much time, and would

unwarrantably inconvenience your master--”

“_Master_, idiot!” stormed the king. “I have no master, I myself

am the m--”

“Silence, for God's sake!”

I got the words out in time to stop the king. We were in trouble

enough already; it could not help us any to give these people

the notion that we were lunatics.

There is no use in stringing out the details. The earl put us up

and sold us at auction. This same infernal law had existed in

our own South in my own time, more than thirteen hundred years

later, and under it hundreds of freemen who could not prove that

they were freemen had been sold into lifelong slavery without

the circumstance making any particular impression upon me; but the

minute law and the auction block came into my personal experience,

a thing which had been merely improper before became suddenly

hellish. Well, that's the way we are made.

Yes, we were sold at auction, like swine. In a big town and an

active market we should have brought a good price; but this place

was utterly stagnant and so we sold at a figure which makes me

ashamed, every time I think of it. The King of England brought

seven dollars, and his prime minister nine; whereas the king was

easily worth twelve dollars and I as easily worth fifteen. But

that is the way things always go; if you force a sale on a dull

market, I don't care what the property is, you are going to make

a poor business of it, and you can make up your mind to it. If

the earl had had wit enough to--

However, there is no occasion for my working my sympathies up

on his account. Let him go, for the present; I took his number,

so to speak.

The slave-dealer bought us both, and hitched us onto that long

chain of his, and we constituted the rear of his procession. We

took up our line of march and passed out of Cambenet at noon;

and it seemed to me unaccountably strange and odd that the King

of England and his chief minister, marching manacled and fettered

and yoked, in a slave convoy, could move by all manner of idle men

and women, and under windows where sat the sweet and the lovely,

and yet never attract a curious eye, never provoke a single remark.

Dear, dear, it only shows that there is nothing diviner about a king

than there is about a tramp, after all. He is just a cheap and

hollow artificiality when you don't know he is a king. But reveal

his quality, and dear me it takes your very breath away to look

at him. I reckon we are all fools. Born so, no doubt.