_ CHAPTER XVII. "IT'S A-HAPPMIN' YIT--TO WE ALL"
Nevertheless, "Go on!" cried Ramsey. "How could the overseer be hard on Phyllis if Phyllis was mom-a's maid?"
"Phyllis fo'ce' him to it! 'Caze all dat time, while she sweet as roses wid yo' ma--so's to keep in cahoots wid heh an' not have noth'n' to do wid niggehs o' no breed, pyo', half, quahteh, aw half-quahteh--she so wild to git back to y'uncle Dan dat she----"
"And to leave mom-a! The goosy-goosy! What for?"
"Well, for one thing, by bad luck, f'om fus' sight, de ovehseeh he _fancy_ Phyllis. Y'un'stan'----"
"I don't! I don't want to--Go on!"
"Humph! Phyllis un'stan'. She un'stan' so well an' so quick dat de fus' drizzly night when de rain 'u'd spile de trail--de scent--she up wid de chile an' putt out."
"For my uncle Dan! Walnut Hills! Go on!" The moving scene was forgotten though the chute was widening again.
"Well, de ovehseeh, o' co'se, he _got_ to run heh down an' fetch heh back. An' same time de creeks an' bayous----"
"Oh, now, that's the same old----"
"Yass, oh, yass, de same ole! So ole an' common dat you white folks--what has all de feelin's----"
"Now, just hush! You don't know anything about it! Go on! Go on! The bayous were--what?"
"Bank full, dat's all. One place Phyllis an' him nigh got swep' away an' he drap' de chile."
"Oh!... Oh!... Oh!"
"He bleeged to do it, he tell yo' ma, fo' to save Phyllis--what ain't want'n' to be save'. Whils' de chile--wuz--de chile wuz drownded." The old woman moved to rise, but the girl, with a new expression in her face, prevented her.
"Go on! What did mom-a do?"
"Lawd, what could she do--widout yo' pa?"
"Oh, I'd have done something. What did Phyllis do?"
"Phyllis? Dess th'ash' de bed fo' th'ee days--eyes a-blazin' murdeh; th'ee days and de Lawd know' how many night'. Yo' ma done one thing but you don't want to know dat, I reckon."
"What did she do? Did she turn Whig?"
"Wuss!--ef wuss kin be. She tu'n'--dat day--Abolitionless. Ain't neveh tell me, but--you ax heh. Mebbe it wa'n't all 'count o' Phyllis. Mebbe it wa'n't plumb hoss-sensible nohow. But dat day-- You ax heh!"
Ramsey flashed: "What are you telling me all this for?"
"Lawd! An' how many time' is you say, 'Go on'?"
"I meant about the _Quakeress_."
"Well, ain't dis de story o' de _Quak'ess_? When----"
"Stop! I'll tell it to you. I see it all."
"You! Y'ain't see it de quahteh o' half a quahteh. Dat story is a-happmin' yit--to we-all--on dis boat!"
The breakfast-bell rang again, and Hugh started down from the pilot-house. But Ramsey would ask the old woman one more question: "Is it happening to him, too?"
"Co'se, him; all o' us; twins an' all. When us brung Phyllis down de riveh yo' ma wuz dead ag'in sellin' heh, an' when us git win' dat de Co'teneys want' a nuss yo' pa he dat glad he snap his fingehs. 'Us'll rent Phyllis to 'em!' he say. 'Dey's Hendry Clay Whigs; dey'd ought to treat heh fine.' (Dat wuz his joke.) An' yo' ma make answeh: 'Ef dey don't, us kin take heh back! Betteh dat dan sell heh! Nobody o' de Hayle blood shayn't do dat whils' I live.'"
Hugh was near. "Good morning!" sang Ramsey. They met at the head of a stair. She turned away and looked out beyond the jack-staff as radiantly as if she had just alighted on the planet. The chute was astern. A new reach of open water came, sun-gilt, to meet them, and on either hand the low, monotonous green shores crept southward a mile apart.
She faced again to Hugh. "Isn't this God's country?"
"In a way," the youth admitted with a scant smile.
She glanced about. "Most beautiful river in the world!" she urged, and when he faltered she cried: "Oh, you're prejudiced!" She turned half away. "I know one thing; I wouldn't let _my_ grandfather prejudice _me_."
A new thought struck her: "Oh!... I've just heard all about it!... And it helps to explain--you!"
He enjoyed the personality. "Heard all about what?"
"Phyllis!" She jerked up and down. His smile vanished; his lips set; he turned red.
Ramsey was even more taken aback than he or old Joy. She knew the pilot was looking down on her, the mate glancing back at her. Yet she laughed and prattled and all at once frowningly said: "But one thing I just can't make out! What on earth had the _Hayle blood_ to do with any right or wrong of selling Phyllis? Do you know?"
Hugh reddened worse, and in that instant, outblushing him, she saw the truth. "Never mind!" she cried. "Oh, did I stop you? Go on!--I--I mean go on down--to breakfast!"
"Won't you go first?"
"No, thank you; go on! Please, go on!" Glancing up to the pilot and catching his amused eye, she pointed distantly ahead. "What is that high bank on the--the stabboard shore?" she asked him.
"Why"--his tobacco caused but a moment's delay--"nothing much. They call that Port Hudson."
"Thank you!" She darted below, where Hugh was already gone. As she started she caught sight of the twins. They had just come up on the far side of the boat and were approaching the mate. Still flushed, but straight as a dart, at the stair's foot she turned on her attendant and with brimming eyes said softly: "I don't want any breakfast. I'm going to the lower deck--to find mom-a."
"You shayn't! You'll git de cholera!"
"Pooh, the cholera!--after what I've got!--I'm going to tell mom-a on you!"
"On me--me! Good Lawd! Go on, I's wid you!"
"You'd no right to tell me that story!"
"Missie, I on'y tol' you fo' to stop you. You said yo'se'f you gwine ax him all about it."
"Oh, him!" The girl laughed, yet showed new tears. "I don't mind him; I mind the story! I don't even care who it's about, Hayles or no Hayles!"
"Why, den, what does you care----?"
"I care _what_ it's about." She suddenly looked older. "Oh, I'm all over bespattered with the horrid----"
"Y'ain't. Y'ain't de sawt fo' dat. Look at yo' ma. She have bofe han's in it. Is she all oveh bespattud?"
"Oh, you! You know nothing could ever bespatter mom-a!... I'm going to her to get clean!"
"Dat's good!" A shrewd elation lit up the black face. "Go on! As you say yo'se'f, go on!"
Ramsey started away but with an overjoyed gasp found herself in her mother's arms. She pressed closer while the three laughed, and when the other two ceased she still mirthfully clung in that impregnable sanctuary. Suddenly she hearkened, tossed her curls, and stood very straight. Two male voices were coming down the stairs.
"We cannot," said one, "submit to this alive!"
"Yes," said the other, "we can. It's just _we who_ can--till the day we catch them where they've got us to-day!"
"And what, now, is this?" smilingly inquired Madame Hayle as her twin sons halted before her.
The young men uncovered. They were surprisingly presentable after the night they had spent. Julian, in particular, looked capable and proud of their waywardness.
"Good morning," put in Ramsey, on her mother's arm. "See those little houses up on that bank? That's Port Hudson. Up there they can see away down the river, past Prophet's Island, and at the same time away up-stream. If we were on the hurric--" She made a start, but her mother, while addressing the twins, restrained her.
"Well," she asked, "you cannot submit--to what?"
"We are ordered ashore!" said Julian.
"At the next landing!" quavered Lucian--"Bayou Sara!"
Ramsey slipped from her mother and gazed at the twins with her eyes as large as theirs. "You shan't go!" she broke in. "Where's Hugh?" She darted for the cabin, old Joy following. Julian glared after them.
"See?" he said to his mother. "You don't see--the plot? It's a plot!--to compromise us!--you and her included!"
"Before this boat-load of witnesses!" chimed Lucian.
Him the mother waved to a remote chair. "Bring me that," she said, for a pretext, and turned privately to Julian, speaking too swiftly for him to reply: "Was it part of that plot that you was both on that lower deck laz' night? No? But in the city those laz' two-three day' in how many strenge place' you was--lower deck of the whole worl'--God only know', eh?--unless maybe also the devil--an' the scavenger? That was likewise part of that plot aggains' us? No? But anny'ow that comity of seven--h-ah!"--she made a wry face--"that was cause' by the wicked plotting of those Courteney'? An' that diztrac' you so bad this morning that you 'ave not notiz' even that change' face on yo' brotheh?--or that change' voice, eh? An' him he's too affraid to tell you how he's feeling bad! As faz' as you can, take him--to his room--his bed--an' say you, both, some prayers. He's godd the cholera." _