DADDY DAVY, THE NEGRO.

“A negro has a soul, an please your honour, said the corporal, (doubtingly.)I am not much versed, corporal, said my Uncle Toby, in things of that kind; but I suppose God would not leave him without one, any more than thee or me.”Sterne.

“A negro has a soul, an please your honour, said the corporal, (doubtingly.)

I am not much versed, corporal, said my Uncle Toby, in things of that kind; but I suppose God would not leave him without one, any more than thee or me.”

Sterne.

“I have now no written memorandums of the storms, the battles, the scenes which I have witnessed; no description of the beautiful shores of the Mediterranean, the ice-bound rocks of Greenland, the burning regions of the torrid zone, or the mild and salubrious climate of the Rio de la Plata. In my youth I trusted to a retentive memory, little thinking that time and the cares of the world would obliterate the recollection of past events.”

Such was the apostrophe of my worthy grandfather, a veteran captain in his Majesty’s navy, one winter evening, when a little orphan in my seventh year I climbed upon his knee (which he always called one of his timbers) and begged veryhard that he would tell me some pretty story. The candles were not yet lighted in the parlour; but the glowing fire sent forth its red blaze, and its cheering heat seemed ten times more grateful from a heavy fall of snow, which was rapidly collecting in piles of fleecy whiteness on the lawn.

My grandfather was a man of a kindly and compassionate heart; and though I used to play him many a sly trick and sometimes grieve his spirit, yet he was always lenient to my failings; and now that he lies in yonder village churchyard, this often causes me a pang of unfeigned contrition for the past. It was my chief delight to hear him tell of the roaring of the guns when ships met in deadly strife, or the howling of the winds when the bitter tempest and the raging sea threatened destruction to the mariner; and he would so mingle his stories with the generous sympathies of his nature, that many a night has sleep dried the tears from my eyes as I lay on my pillow after retiring to bed.

I had taken my favourite seat on the evening I have mentioned, just as a poor negro with scarcely any covering appeared at the window and supplicated charity. His dark skin was deeply contrasted with the unblemished purity of the falling snow, whilst his trembling limbs seemed hardly able to support his shivering frame; and there he stood, the child of an injured race, perishingin the land of boasted hospitality and freedom!

With all the active benevolence which my grandfather possessed, he still retained the usual characteristics of the hardy seaman. He discouraged every thing that bore the smallest resemblance to indolence. The idle vagrant dared not approach his residence; but he prized the man of industrious habits, however lowly his station, and his influence was ever extended to aid the destitute and to right the injured. On his first going to sea, he had been cabin boy on board a Liverpool ship, which was engaged in that horrible traffic—the Slave-trade; and towards the poor anathematized descendants of Ham he had already imbibed erroneous prejudices, which after-years could not wholly eradicate though they were chiefly manifested in the unmeaning jokes so common among British sailors. He had also held an official appointment for several years in the island of Trinidad, where the negroes were more rigorously treated than in any other part of the West Indies, and where their debased condition rendered them more depraved in their habits and more treacherous in their actions. In England, however, the very colour of the skin is a passport to commiseration, and my grandfather no sooner saw the dark countenance of the perishing creature than he hastily rang the bell,and a footman entering, “Robert,” said he, “go and bring yon pale-face here directly.”

“Pale face, did you say, sir?” inquired the man.

“Yes, yes,” replied my grandfather, “yon black fellow; fetch him hither to me.”

The servant quitted the room, and it was not without some feelings of fear, as well as hopes of amusement, that a few minutes afterwards I saw the poor African stand bowing at the parlour door. The twilight had faded away, and except the reflection from the snow, night had thrown its sable shadows on the scene; but as the bright gleam of the fire shed its red hue upon the jetty features of the negro and flashed upon his rolling eyes, he presented rather a terrific appearance to my young mind.

“Come in!” exclaimed my grandfather in a shrill voice; but the poor fellow stood hesitatingly on the borders of the carpet till the command was repeated with more sternness than before, and then the trembling African advanced a few steps towards the easy chair in which the veteran was sitting. Never shall I forget the abject figure which the poor black displayed. He was a tall large-boned man, but was evidently bent down under the pressure of sickness and of want rather than age. A pair of old canvass trousers hung loosely on his legs, but his feet were quite naked. On the upper part of his body was astriped flannel shirt, one of the sleeves of which was torn away; he had no covering for his head, and the snow which had fallen on it having melted in the warmth of the room, large transparent drops of clear water hung glistening on his thick woolly hair. His look was inclined downwards, as if fearful of meeting the stern gaze of my grandfather, who scanned him with the most minute attention not unmingled with agitation. Every joint of the poor fellow’s limbs shook as if struck with ague, and the cold seemed to have contracted his sinews; for he crouched his body together, as if to shrink from the keen blast. Tears were trickling down his cheeks, and his spirit seemed bowed to the earth by distress.

“Don’t stand showing your ivories[10]there,” said my grandfather; “but tell me, sir, what brought you to England, and what you mean by strolling about the country here as a beggar? I have a great mind to order you to be put in the stocks.”

“Ah, massa!” replied the negro, “Buckra[11]neber hab stocks for nigger-man in dis country; yet nigger-man die, if massa neber give him something for fill hungry belly.”

Whilst he was speaking, my grandfather wasrestless and impatient. He removed me from his knee and looked with more intense eagerness at the black, who never raised his head. “But we have beggars enough of our own nation,” said the veteran, “without having a swarm of black beetles to eat up the produce of our industry.”

“Massa speak for true,” replied the African meekly; “distress lib every where; come like race-horse, but go away softly, softly.”

Again my grandfather scanned the dark features of the negro, and showed signs of agitation in his own. “Softly! Softly!” said he, imitating the black; “that’s just your negro cant! I know the whole gang of you; but you are not going to deceive me. Why, sirrah! I know you would sacrifice me and all I am worth for a bunch of plantains.”[12]

“Massa hab eat de plantains den,” responded the black; “and yet massa tink hard of poor nigger who work for make ’em grow. Gor Amighty send rain,—Gor Amighty send sun: but Gor Amighty send poor nigger too.”

“Well, well,” said my grandfather, softening his voice to its accustomed tone of mildness; “the Omnipotent is no respecter of colours, and wemust not let you be put in the stocks till the morning, daddy;[13]so Robert, tell the cook to get some warm broth for this shivering piece of ebony; and bid her bear a hand about it.”

“Gor Amighty for eber bless massa!” exclaimed the negro; and his countenance underwent an instantaneous change, as he listened to the order, and keenly directed his eye towards the person who had issued it; but my grandfather had turned his head towards me, so that his face was concealed from the grateful black.

“So, I suppose you are some runaway slave,” said my grandfather harshly.

“No, massa,” rejoined the African, more assured; “no massa, me neber run away; I free man. Good buckra gib freedom; but den I lose kind massa, and—”

“Ay, ay,” replied my grandfather, interrupting him. “I think you said something about Plantation Josef, in Trinidad?”

“Ky!” responded the negro as his eyes were bent upon his interrogator, who again concealed his face; “de buckra sabby [knows] ebery ting;him like angel of light for know de secret of de heart.”

“Come nearer the fire, Daddy Davy,” said my grandfather, as he extended his hand to the poker and bent down his body to stir the burning coals.

Never shall I forget the look of the African; joy, wonder, and admiration were pictured on his countenance as he exclaimed, whilst advancing forward, “De buckra know my name too! How dis?”

My grandfather having rekindled a bright flame that illuminated the whole room, turned his face carelessly towards the black; but no sooner had the poor fellow caught sight of his features, than throwing himself at his feet, he clasped the old man’s knees, exclaiming, “My own massa! what for you give Davy him life? what for you give Davy him freedom? and now de poor nigger die for want! But no!” checking himself, “neber see de day for go dead, now me find my massa!”

“Confound the cold!” said my grandfather, thrusting his thumb and forefinger to his eyes, “how it makes one’s eyes run! William, my boy,” turning to me, “fetch that pocket handkerchief off the sofa.”

I immediately obeyed, and felt as if the cold had affected me too; for I employed my grandfather’s handkerchief two or three times to wipethe trickling drops from my face, before I delivered it into his hands. At this moment the footman opened the door to say that the broth was ready, but stood transfixed with amazement at seeing the half-naked black at his master’s feet.

“Go, Davy,” said my grandfather, “go, and get some food; and Robert, tell the cook to have a warm bath ready, and the housemaid must run a pan of coals over the little bed in the blue room, and put some extra blankets on. You can sleep without a night-cap, I dare say, Davy; and, Robert, tell the butler to give you a bottle of Madeira; simmer half of it over the fire, and when heated beat up an egg in it,—it will be better than cold sangaree, Davy; and d’ye hear, Robert, grate a little nutmeg on the top, and carry it to the pale face as soon as he gets into bed. There, go along, Davy, go along!” and the gratified negro left the room with unfeigned ejaculations of “Gor Amighty for eber bless kind massa!”

As soon as the door was closed, and I was once more seated on my grandfather’s knee, he commenced his usual practice of holding converse with himself. “What can have brought him here?” said he; “I gave him his freedom and a piece of land to cultivate. There was a pretty hut upon it, too, with a double row of cocoa-nut trees in front, and a garden of plantains behind, and a nice plot of guinea grass for a cow, and anotherof buckwheat:—what has become of it all, I wonder? Bless me, how time flies! It seems but the other day that I saved the fellow from a couple of bullets, and he repaid the debt by rescuing my Betsy—ah, poor dear! She was your mother, William, and he snatched her from a dreadful and terrific fate. How these things crowd upon my mind! The earthquake shook every building to its foundation, the ground yawned in horrible deformity, and your poor mother—we can see her grave-stone from the drawing-room window, you know, for she died since we have been here, and left her old father’s heart a dreary blank. Yet not so, either, my child,” pressing me to his breast and laying his hoary head on mine, “not so, either; for she bequeathed you to my guardian care, and you are now the solace of my gray hairs.”

“But the earthquake, grandpapa,” said I, “the earthquake.”

“And your poor father,” continued he, absorbed in his subject, “as brave a lad as ever broke a king’s biscuit, to become a prey to the sharks, with the ocean for his grave!—but there, don’t cry, my boy, don’t cry; you shall never be wrecked upon a lee shore whilst I can keep you afloat; and when this old hull is stowed away in the ground tier, I shall leave you to the protection of Him, who gives the fleecy coat to the tenderlamb and feeds the young ravens when they cry. But it puzzles me a little to think how this black rogue got to England, and what he can have come for. He was a faithful servant, that Davy, and I picked him up in a strange way too,—a very strange way,—for in another half hour he would have been food for the fishes. It was in ninety-eight I commanded the Zephyr sloop of war. We were cruising off the river Plate, when a schooner hove in sight and showed American colours; so I bore up to speak to her, and just as we got within hail we heard the report of firearms, and saw a negro fall from the schooner’s side into the water. At first I thought it was some poor wretch relieved from his earthly misery whom they were burying. As he sank in the ocean, the billow closed over his dark form, but the next instant he rose struggling on the surface of the wave, and the white foam around him assumed a red and gory tinge. Again he sank, and again the sea rolled smoothly on; but that poor murdered wretch arose no more. We were now close to the schooner, and I commanded her crew to heave-to for a boat, which after some hesitation they obeyed. Curiosity, and perhaps a little compassion, induced me to visit the schooner; but oh, what a scene of horror presented itself! I have witnessed in my youth enough to make my heart callous, if any thingcould, but this exceeded all I had ever seen. The schooner had a cargo of slaves from the coast of Africa; but not men,—not women—no, no; there were ninety-seven little children, from four to twelve years of age, in the most horrid and emaciated condition. The space in which they were kept was so confined that they could scarcely sit upright; and having nothing but rough planks to lie on, the rolling of the vessel had chafed their joints into wounds; they looked as if perishing with hunger. You shudder, boy, and well you may. The helpless creatures were ranged upon the deck, and close by the gangway lay four young men, wounded and in fetters, but who did not seem otherwise much the worse for the voyage. Another was placed astride the gunwale, with his arms pinioned behind him. Seated on the companion abaft, appeared a stout tall man in a white shirt deeply stained with blood; his head was bandaged with new cotton, through which the blood was still oozing; his left arm was bound up, and he seemed to have suffered in some desperate conflict. This was the captain; and the crew, more or less hurt, showing visible marks of a recent fight, stood near, and every one displayed strong indications of intemperance. On the hencoop, by the captain’s side, lay a long-barrelled pistol; the fellow to it was grasped in his right hand, and with the rolling eye of intoxicationhe first glanced at the instrument of death, and then at the poor wretch who sat with an unmoved countenance on the gunwale. ‘You are just come in time, sir,’ said the captain, ‘to witness an act of justice; for I guess, though you have got the British bunting[14]at the peak, you come from the land of the stripes and stars.[15]But you shall see, sir, how cleverly I’ll put a brace of balls through that mutinous rascal.’ He raised the pistol to a level with his eye; his fore-finger was on the trigger, when I hastily struck it up with my hand, and the bullets whistled over the negro’s head without doing him any injury. But he had experienced only cruelty from white men; he had expected death, and could not suppose that one of the fair-skinned race would rescue him from the fate of his companion. As soon as he heard the report of the pistol, he fell forward on his face; but my boat’s crew ran, and saved him from going overboard. ‘What is the meaning of all this?’ said I, ‘thou disgrace to manhood. I am a British officer, and to me you shall be accountable for your demoniac conduct. What hasthat poor creature done? and these too on the deck? Release them my men,’ and my boat’s crew had soon broken off their fetters.

“The negro, whom I had saved from the murderous intention of the captain, could not exactly comprehend the scene; but when he found that he was safe and knew me for his deliverer, he clung round my knees—ay, just as the fellow did to-night, for it was no other than Davy himself. But I can’t think what brings him here to England away from the pretty hut, and the cocoa-nut trees, and the guinea grass.”

“But what became of the little black children, grandpapa?” inquired I, “and the other four men, and the wicked captain? and where did you take Davy to? and—”

“Stop, stop, child!” said my grandfather; “don’t overhaul your questions so fast, and I’ll tell you, for the sight of the dog is a memorandum one cannot meet with every day. The captain had freighted his schooner at Loando, in the Congo country, with one hundred and thirty male and female children, and six fine young men. Thirty-three of the children had died on the passage, and been thrown overboard. The crew of the schooner fearing nothing from the poor emaciated innocents and trusting to the half-starved weakness of the young men, indulged in drinking to excess. But to the surprise of the captain, theselatter began to recover their sleek and healthy appearance, and he was calculating upon getting a handsome price for them in the market; when the very night before I fell in with the schooner, the young men rose upon the crew, they attacked the captain in his bed, and inflicted several severe wounds on his body and head. But what could these poor creatures do against a superior force, who were well acquainted with the use of arms? The negroes were overpowered and put in irons; and the wretched man, whom we had seen shot before getting along-side, was the ringleader. But now, mark me, my boy; on inquiry, I discovered that the plan had been a long time in agitation, and these injured and devoted children had daily set apart a portion of their own very scanty food, to strengthen the men for the enterprise. Most of them knew of the attempt, yet none betrayed the secret. I bought Davy of the captain, and went up the Plate as far as I could, (for the schooner was bound to Monte Video,) and then was compelled to quit her, for she was under the flag of a neutral power: besides our own country was then engaged in the same traffic.”

“And what became of the children, grandpapa?”

“All sold into slavery, my dear.”

“And Davy, grandpapa?”

“I took him with me: but what he has done with the hut and the plantain ground, I can’t tell.”

“And the earthquake; grandpapa?” for I had not forgotten that.

“You want to know every thing, boy, and you forget that my memory fails me; however, I’ll try and recollect that too for some other night; but you must go to bed now, and to-morrow Davy will tell you all about it.”

I afterwards learned that Davy had rescued my poor dear mother from destruction at the risk of his own life during an earthquake in Trinidad, for which my grandfather had given him his freedom, together with the hut and land. But the free black had no protection in the west: the slaves plundered his property; sickness came, and no medical attendant would minister to his wants without his accustomed fee; he contracted debts, and his ground was sold to the estate on which it was situated to pay the lawyers. He quitted the island of Trinidad to go to Berbice; but being wrecked near Mahaica Creek, on the east coast of Demerara, he lost his free papers, was seized by the government, and sold as a slave to pay the expenses of advertising and his keep. He fortunately fell into the hands of a kind master, who at his death once more set him at liberty, and hehad come to England in the hope of bettering his condition. But here misfortune still pursued him; the gentleman whom he accompanied died on the passage; he could obtain no employment on his landing; he had been plundered of what little money he possessed, and had since wandered about the country, till the evening that he implored charity and found a home.

My worthy grandfather is now numbered with the dead; and I love to sit upon his grave-stone at the evening hour: it seems as if I were once more placed upon his knee and listening to his tales of by-gone years. But Daddy Davy is still in existence and living with me; indeed whilst I have been writing I have had occasion to put several questions to him on the subject, and he has been fidgetting about the room to try and ascertain what I was relating respecting him. “I am only giving asketchof my grandfather, Davy,” said I.

“Catch, massa! what he callcatch?”

“About the schooner, and Trinidad, and the earthquake, Davy.”

“And da old massa what sleep in daWerk-en-rust?”[16]

“Yes, Davy, and the snow-storm.”

“Ah, da buckra good man! Davy see him noder time up dere,” pointing towards the sky; “Gor Amighty for eber bless kind massa!”

Footnotes[10]Ivories is a common term among the negroes for teeth.[11]White man.[12]The plantain is a fruit which when ripe is very sweet; but roasted when green, it resembles a chesnut in taste. It is a general article of food instead of bread in the West Indies.[13]Daddy is a familiar term of kindness used by the male negroes to each other, as “Aunty” is used by the females; and it is nothing uncommon to hear children, as soon as they can talk, calling one another, “daddy” and “aunty.”[14]Bunting is the stuff of which flags are made.[15]The captain thought the vessel was in the service of the United States, their colours being striped red and white, except the upper quarter next the staff, which is blue, and bears as many stars as there are states in the Union.[16]Werk-en-rust, literally work-and-rest, is the name given to the burying-ground at Demerara; but here it is meant to apply generally to all places of sepulture.

[10]Ivories is a common term among the negroes for teeth.

[11]White man.

[12]The plantain is a fruit which when ripe is very sweet; but roasted when green, it resembles a chesnut in taste. It is a general article of food instead of bread in the West Indies.

[13]Daddy is a familiar term of kindness used by the male negroes to each other, as “Aunty” is used by the females; and it is nothing uncommon to hear children, as soon as they can talk, calling one another, “daddy” and “aunty.”

[14]Bunting is the stuff of which flags are made.

[15]The captain thought the vessel was in the service of the United States, their colours being striped red and white, except the upper quarter next the staff, which is blue, and bears as many stars as there are states in the Union.

[16]Werk-en-rust, literally work-and-rest, is the name given to the burying-ground at Demerara; but here it is meant to apply generally to all places of sepulture.

END OF VOL. I.

Transcriber’s NotePunctuation and other obvious typographic inaccuracies were silently corrected.Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.Footnotes moved to the end of their respective chapters.CorrectionFootnote 4(originally on p. 149), “dismissed the navy” to “dismissed by the navy”

Footnote 4(originally on p. 149), “dismissed the navy” to “dismissed by the navy”

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