Part 1

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THE

BABES IN THE BASKET;

OR,

Daph and her Charge.

BY THE AUTHOR OF

“TIMID LUCY,” “HEART AND HAND,” ETC.

NEW YORK: ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH, 683 BROADWAY. 1859.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858, by

ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH,

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York.

EDWARD O. JENKINS, Printer & Stereotyper, NO. 26 FRANKFORT STREET.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

CHAP. I.--A MOONLIGHT VISITOR 5

“ II.--THE “MARTHA JANE” 13

“ III.--THE WATER-LILY 33

“ IV.--THE RED HOUSE WITH THE BLUE SHUTTERS 53

“ V.--DAPH’S SHOPPING 69

“ VI.--CLOUDS 81

“ VII.--A NEW PATH 92

“ VIII.--NEWS 107

“ IX.--A MINISTERING SPIRIT 129

“ X.--STRANGE PROCEEDINGS 146

“ XI.--ANOTHER FRIEND 155

“ XII.--HOME SCENES 176

“ XIII.--MARY RAY 190

“ XIV.--THE BASKET OVERTURNED 203

“ XV.--THE END 213

THE

Babes in the Basket;

OR,

DAPH AND HER CHARGE.

I.

The Moonlight Visitor.

The evening air stole gently into a quiet room in a southern island, more than sixty years ago.

There were no casements in the wide windows; the heavy shutters were thrown back, and the moonlight poured, in long, unbroken streams, across the polished, un-carpeted floor.

Within the large pleasant room, two children were sleeping in their curtained beds, like birds in pretty cages.

Suddenly there was a cautious tread in the hall, and then a strange figure stood silently in the moonlight. Without candle, or taper, might have been plainly seen the short, strongly-built woman, whose black face and gay turban formed a striking contrast to the fair children in their loose, white night-dresses.

Who was that dark intruder, and what was her secret errand, in that quiet room?

It was Daph, black Daph, and when you have heard more about her, you can better judge whether she came as a friend, or an enemy, to the sleeping children of her master.

The large mirror, bright in the moonlight, seemed to have an irresistible attraction for the negro, and the sight of her black face fully reflected there, made her show her white teeth in a grin of decided approval. The pleased expression, however, disappeared almost instantly, as she said impatiently, “Foolish darky, spendin dese precious time, looking at your own ugly face!”

At this whispered exclamation, the children stirred uneasily. “If I mus, I mus!” said Daph, resolutely, as she drew from her pocket a box, containing two small pills. With the pills in her hand she approached the bedside of the little girl, who was now half sitting up, and looking at Daph, with the bewildered expression of one suddenly aroused from sleep.

Daph put aside the mosquito bar, and said, coaxingly, “Take dis, Miss Lou, quick as you can, and don’t go for waking Mass Charley, asleep da in dat beauty bed of his.”

Daph had slipped the pill into a juicy bit of pineapple, which she seemed to have had ready for the purpose, and the child instantly swallowed it. With one trustful, pleasant glance from her large, blue eyes, the fair-haired little girl sank back on her pillow, and was soon in the sweet sleep of innocence.

As soon as Daph saw the small, slender hands lie open and relaxed, she closed the gauze-like curtains, and stole to the cradle-bed of the little boy. She raised his head gently on her arm, and placed in his mouth a bit of the same juicy fruit she had given his sister, containing another of those hidden pills, which she seemed so anxious to administer. The child did not wake, but the sweet morsel was pleasant to his taste, and no doubt mingled in his baby-dreams of the joys of the pleasant world in which he had passed but little more than a twelve month.

Daph now set to work busily to fill a huge basket, which she brought from some place of deposit near at hand. The drawers of the bureau, and the contents of the elegant dressing-case she thoroughly over-hauled, making such selections as seemed to please her fancy, and being withal somewhat dainty in her choice. Children’s clothing, of the finest and best, formed the lowest layer in the basket; then followed a sprinkling of rings and necklaces, interspersed with the choice furniture of the rich dressing-case. Over all was placed a large light shawl, with its many soft folds, and then Daph viewed the success of her packing with much satisfaction.

Quietly and stealthily she approached the bed, where the little girl was sleeping so soundly that she did not wake, even when Daph lifted her in her strong arms, and laid her gently in the great basket,--the choicest treasure of all. In another moment the plump, rosy boy was lying with his fairy-like sister, in that strange resting-place. Daph looked at them, as they lay side by side, and a tear rolled over her dark cheeks, and, as it fell, sparkled in the moonlight.

The negro had taken up a white cloth, and was in the act of throwing it over the basket, when a small book, with golden clasps, suddenly caught her eye; rolling it quickly in a soft, rich veil, she placed it between the children, and her task was done.

It was but the work of a moment, to fasten on the cloth-covering with a stout string; then, with one strong effort, Daph stooped, took the basket on her head, and went forth from the door with as stately a step as if she wore a crown.

II.

The “Martha Jane.”

There was the bustle of departure, on board a Yankee schooner, which some hope of gain had brought to the southern island, named in our last chapter. The fresh and favorable breeze hurried the preparations of the sailors, as they moved about full of glad thoughts of return to their distant home.

The boat, which had been sent ashore for some needful supplies, was fast approaching the vessel, and in it, among the rough tars, was Daph, her precious basket at her side, and her bright eyes passing from face to face, with an eager, wistful glance, that seemed trying to read the secrets of each heart.

“Here! go-a-head, woman! I’ll hand up your chickens;” said one of the sailors, as they reached the anchored schooner.

“I keeps my chickens to myself,” said Daph, as she placed the basket on her head, and went up the side of the vessel, as steadily and securely as the oldest tar of all.

As soon as she set her foot on deck, the sailors thronged around her, offering to take her chickens from her, at her own price, and passing their rough jokes on her stout figure and shining black face. One young sailor, bolder than the rest, laid his hand on the basket, and had well-nigh torn away its cover. The joke might have proved a dangerous one for him. A blow from Daph’s strong arm sent him staggering backwards, and in another moment, the negress had seized an oar, and was brandishing it round her head, threatening with destruction any one who should dare to touch her property, and declaring that with the captain, and with him alone, would she treat for the chickens, about which so much had been said.

“Cap’in,” said she, as a tall, firmly-knit man drew near the scene of the disturbance; “Cap’in, it’s you, sah, I wants to speak wid, and just you by yourself, away from these fellows, who don’t know how to treat a ’spectable darkie, who belongs to the greatest gentleman in the island. Let me see you in your little cubby there, and if you have an heart in you, we’ll make a bargain.”

There was something so earnest in the woman’s manner, that Captain Jones at once consented to her odd request, smiling at himself as he did so.

A kind of temporary cabin had been put up on deck, for the protection of the captain from the hot rays of the southern sun. It was but a rude frame-work, covered with sail-cloth, and yet, when the canvas door was closed, it formed a pleasant and cool place of retirement for an afternoon nap, or for the transaction of private business.

To that spot Daph followed the captain, her basket on her head, and her firm step and consequential air seeming to say to the sailors,--“You see, your captain knows better than you do how to treat such a person as I am.”

When they were once within the little enclosure, Daph’s manner changed. She put down her precious basket, and looking the captain directly in the eye, she said, solemnly, “Cap’in, would you see a man struggle for his life in de deep water, outside da, and nebber lift your hand to save him? Would you see a house on fire, and sweet baby-children burning in it, and just look on to see de awsome blaze, and nebber stir to save de dear babies? Cap’in, I’se brought you a good work to do. Dey say de great Lord blesses dem dat cares for little children, and gives dem a good seat in heaven. Swear by de great Lord you wont tell de dreadsome secret I’se going to tell you! Swear! time is short!”

The kind-hearted captain was impressed by the earnest manner of the woman, and not a little curious to hear the secret that seemed to fill her with such strong feeling; “I swear,” said he, simply, “go on!”

“De darkies in dis island,” said Daph, slowly, “de darkies are crazy for de blood of der masters. Poor, wicked fools! Dey means to have enough of it to-night! By to-morrow morning, de white faces on dis coast will ebery one be white wid de death-whiteness! Old folks and little children--dey mean to kill dem all! Dey told Daph deir secret, as if dey thought she was all black, inside and out. De Lord forgib Daph, dat she did not strike dem down, where dey stood shewing deir teeth, at the thought of living in master’s house, and he cold in de grave! Dear massa and missus are up in de country, and Daph could n’t get word to dem, but something in here said, ‘You can save the sweet babies, Daph;’ so I made as if I was ready to kill dose I loves de best, and set to work a-contriving how a poor, foolish darky could save dose sweet lambs. Your men was always glad to take Daph’s chickens, and so de way seemed open. I’se put my darlings in de basket, and here dey are for you to take care ob for de Lord, and he’ll reckon wid you for it. It aint likely dey’ll have any friends to stand by em, and thank ye for it, ’cept one poor darky, named Daph!”

In a twinkling, Daph had torn off the cover of the basket, and there lay the sleeping children; calm and still as if on their mother’s bosom.

“Dey do breave, de sweet dears!” said Daph, as she bent tenderly over them.

Great tears fell from the eyes of honest Captain Jones. He was an old sailor, but to salt water in this form he had long been a stranger. He tried to speak, but the voice that had been heard above the tumult of many a storm, was now choked and husky. In an instant he regained his self-command, and said, “You have found the right man, Daph! No harm shall come to them so long as my name is Jeremiah Jones! The Martha Jane can skim the water like a wild duck, and will be off towards a better country before ten minutes are over!”

The words were hardly out of Captain Jones’s mouth, before he left his tent-like cabin, and in a moment he was heard giving orders for instant departure.

The energy that had borne Daph through her hour of trial, seemed to desert her, now that her object was attained, and she sank down beside the little ones, sobbing like a child. She felt herself a poor, helpless, ignorant creature, going she knew not whither, and having assumed a charge she knew not how to fulfil.

“De great Lord, dat missus loves, can take care of us!” thought the humble negro; “He can give poor Daph sense to mind de babies!”

In her ignorance, she knew not how to pray, but she leaned in simple faith upon the only source of strength, and found consolation.

In a half-hour after the arrival of Daph on board the Martha Jane, the trim little vessel was speeding on her homeward course.

Captain Jones walked the deck in deep meditation, while from their various positions his crew watched him with curious glances. The sailors well knew that Daph was still on board, but no one had dared to question the captain’s orders for putting instantly out to sea.

Jeremiah Jones was a thorough republican, when at home in good old Massachusetts; but once on board the Martha Jane, he ruled with the despotic power of the Emperor of all the Russias. His crew were accustomed to submission, and murmuring was never heard among them. They had indeed no cause for discontent, for Captain Jones was just, kind-hearted, and high-principled, and he wisely ruled his little realm.

The good captain had acted upon a sudden impulse, for promptness was required, but now came a time for sober reflection.

“If the darky has not told the truth;” so reasoned he; “what has Jeremiah Jones been doing? He has kidnapped a valuable servant and carried off two children, belonging to a man who has the power and wealth to make said Jeremiah suffer for his madness. The thing has been done publicly, and these fellows of mine may think it for their interest to deliver me up, as soon as I set foot in old Boston!”

These meditations did not seem to increase the peace of mind of the worthy New Englander. He walked the deck impatiently for a few minutes, and then drew near the objects of his anxious thought.

He put aside the canvas curtain, and stood for a moment in the clear moonlight, watching the sleepers. Daph had thrown her arm protectingly round the basket, and curled about it, as if conscious of her charge, even in the deep slumber into which she had fallen. That long, earnest look set the perturbed mind of the captain at rest, and again the unwonted tears filled his large, gray eyes.

A state of indecision could not last long in such a mind as that of Captain Jones, and his usually prompt, authoritative manner suddenly returned to him. He seized a trumpet, and gave a shout of “all hands on deck,” which soon brought his eager crew about him.

In a few words he told Daph’s fearful story, and then throwing aside the awning, he exposed to view the sleeping forms of the negro and the little ones, as he said:

“I have pledged myself to be a friend to those whom God has sent me to take care of, my men, but if there is one among you who doubts that faithful creature’s story, or who is afraid to lend a hand to save those sweet throats from the murdering knives of those black rascals on shore, let him stand out here, and speak for himself. Let him take a boat, and put out for the island, while it is yet in sight. We don’t want him here. He shall have his wages, and bounty too, for the master he serves is likely to give him little comfort in the long run. Speak out, men, will you stand by me, or will you go ashore?”

Every voice joined in the hearty cheer with which the captain’s words were received. Rough hands were stretched out towards him, and he responded to their warm grasp with a hearty shake, as one by one the men came up to give him this token of their determination to help him, in the good deed he had begun.

The cheer that was so welcome to the ear of Captain Jones had quite a different effect upon poor Daph. She sprang to her feet in wild alarm, and placing herself in front of her darlings, stood ready to do battle in their behalf.

The men drew back, and Captain Jones hastened to explain to Daph the hearty expression of good-will towards her, which had risen spontaneously from the crew of the Martha Jane.

Daph’s apprehensions were soon quieted, and, at the suggestion of the captain, she prepared to remove her darlings from their strange resting-place to one of the small state-rooms below.

The children did not wake while she laid them gently in the berth, and stretched herself beside them on the floor. Daph began to be troubled at the soundness of their long-continued sleep. She raised herself, and crouching near them, she watched them with ever-increasing uneasiness.

Captain Jones was on deck, giving a last look to see that all was right, before retiring for the night, when Daph came hastily up to him, and laying her hand beseechingly on his arm, she said:

“O! Cap’in! I’se a-feard I’se just killed my pretty ones! dey do sleep so. Dem was such little pills, dey didn’t seem as if dey could be so mighty powersome!”

“Pills!” said the captain, with a start; “what have you given them?”

“I jus don’t know myself,” said Daph, desperately. “Daph had de ear-ache mighty bad last week, and missus, dear creeter--she was always so kind--she gibs me two little pills, and she says, ‘here Daph, you take dese when you goes to bed, and you will sleep so sound, de pain will all go way!’ I says, ‘tank’ee missus,’ of course, and she goes up to de house quite satisfied. Daph nebber did take no doctor’s stuff, so I puts de little pills in my pocket, and just roasts an orange soft, and ties it warm outside my ear, and goes to bed, and sleeps like a lizard. Now when I thinks of putting de children in de basket, something says to me, ‘you gib dem dose little pills, Daph, dey’ll make ’em sleep sound ’nough.’ So, I’se just did like a poor, foolish darky.” Here Daph began to cry piteously.

Captain Jones went immediately to the cabin. The natural color and healthy breathing of the little sleepers soon assured him that all was right.

“Courage! old girl!” said the captain, cheerily, “turn in yourself, and I’ll warrant you the youngsters will be none the worse for your doctoring!”

Thus consoled, Daph lay down again beside her charge, and the silence of deep sleep soon prevailed, not only in the little state-room, but throughout the Martha Jane, save when the measured steps of the watch sounded out through the stillness of the night.

III.

The Water-Lily.

At sunrise the morning after she set sail, the “Martha Jane” was dancing over the waves, far out of sight of mainland or island.

Daph was an early riser, and in the gray dawn she bestirred herself with her usual waking thought--“This is a busy world, and Daph must be up and at work.” Her first glance around showed her that she was not in the southern kitchen, which had so long been her domain, and a merry sound near her reminded her of the new duties she had undertaken.

Charlie was sitting up in the berth, his bright black eyes sparkling with delight at the new scene in which he found himself.

“Pretty! pretty little bed!” were the first words that met Daph’s ear. The hearty hug with which she responded to this pleasant greeting, and the consequent laugh of the child, roused his fair sister.

Louise started up, and looked wildly around her; “Where are we, Daffy,” she asked, anxiously. “We’s just on board a beauty ship, a-going to see pretty countries over the water,” said Daph, coaxingly.

“But why do we go?” urged the child, by no means satisfied.

“Cause, cause,” said Daph, “cause de great Lord tinks it best.”

The face of little Louise instantly took a sobered and submissive expression, and she said quietly, “Well, Daffy, Lou will try to be a good girl; where’s Dinah?”

“I’se to be nurse now, Miss Lou,” answered Daph, promptly.

“Oh! how nice! No cross Dinah any more!” exclaimed the little girl, clapping her hands with very great delight.

Charlie thought proper to clap his hands, too, and to cry out, boisterously, “Caky! caky!”--a cry which Daph well understood, and for which she was amply prepared.

She drew from one of her huge pockets some cakes for the children, and then they all three began to chat as pleasantly as if they were at their favorite resort, under the old tree that grew in front of Daph’s southern kitchen.

Daph found it a difficult business to dress her young master and mistress, but Louise was a helpful little creature, and was of great assistance in enabling the new nurse to select the suitable garments, from the store that had been hastily thrust into the great basket.

It was an easy matter to comb Louise’s soft, straight golden hair off her fair forehead, but it was another thing to deal with master Charlie’s mop of short, chestnut curls. The new bond between Daph and the sturdy boy had well nigh been broken, by the smart pulls she gave, in the course of her unskilful efforts.

When Captain Jones came into the cabin after his usual round on deck, in the morning, he was greeted by the sound of merry young voices, which struck strangely on his ear.

Daph gave one peep from the state-room, to be sure who was near at hand, and then leading out the children, she bade them “go right to the very kindest gentleman that anybody ever had for a friend.”

Charlie put out his arms towards the honest captain, who took the little fellow warmly to his heart.

Louise held on to Daph’s apron with one hand, and the other she put out timidly towards her new friend.

That small, soft, gentle hand was placed in the hard, dark palm of the captain, quietly as a flower might fall on a wayside path. Captain Jones bent tenderly down to the fair, slender child, and kissed her smooth forehead. She loosened her hold of Daph, and nestled at his side. Again those stranger-tears filled the captain’s eyes, but he did not look the worse for them, or for the kindly smile that beamed from his frank, sun-burnt face.

An odd looking party sat round the breakfast-table, in the cabin, that morning. Captain Jones was at the head, with Charlie on his knee; opposite him was perched the little Louise, while the weather-browned faces of the mates appeared at the sides.

Daph had claimed the privilege of milking “Passenger,” the cow--which Captain Jones had taken with him on many voyages, and on which he had lavished much of the surplus affection of his bachelor-heart.

“Passenger,” would have found out that she had powerful rivals, if she could have seen Charlie, enjoying his cup of fresh milk on the captain’s knee, and Louise looking at him with mild trustful glances, that went right to his heart.

Daph saw all this, if “Passenger” did not, and with her white teeth in full sight she moved round the table, in the position of waiter, which she had assumed to keep her darlings in view, and to have a care that their new friends, in their abundant kindness, did not feed them too freely with sailor’s fare.

That was a happy day to the children--that first day on board the “Martha Jane,”--and the captain prophesied that Charlie would “stand the sea like an old salt,” and Louise would be as much at home on it as the “Martha Jane” herself.

There had been a fresh breeze all day, but towards evening the wind grew stronger, and Daph would have found it hard to carry even a trifle on that head of hers, which had so steadily borne many a heavy burden. She began also to experience certain strange internal sensations, for which she could not account; but the faithful creature bore up without a complaint, though she staggered to and fro in a way which made the rough sailors laugh merrily at her expense.

Poor Daph! Such sufferings as hers could not long be kept secret. Through the live-long night she lay in the anguish of sea-sickness, which can only be appreciated by those who have experienced its miseries. In her ignorance, she supposed herself to have been seized by some fearful malady, which must soon take her life.

“Daph would be glad to die, she so awsome sick,” she said to herself, “but den, who will mind de babies? No, no! Daph wont die yet. De great Lord wont let her; Daph knows he wont!”