Part 2

For two days the poor negro wrestled mightily against the horrors of sea-sickness, bearing up with the motive, “Daph must live for de babies!”

Meanwhile, Captain Jones had all the charge of his new pets. “Passenger” was quite forgotten, as the stout sailor walked the deck, with Charlie peeping out from under his rough overcoat, and Louise walking at his side, wrapped in the long soft shawl that Daph had stowed away in that wonderful basket.

They had strange talks together--that strong man and those prattling children--and they learned much from each other. He told of the wonders of the sea--the great whales and the floating ice-bergs--and the petrel, that the sailor never kills. Many long years, Captain Jones had made the sea his home, and much he knew, which books had never taught him, yet in little more than three short years, Louise had caught a priceless secret, which he had never found in any land. He was familiar with the wonders of nature, but to her the Great Creator, to whom he was a stranger, was as a familiar, trusted friend. The marvels which Captain Jones could tell of the ocean, but increased her wonder at His power, who “made the heavens, the earth, the sea, and all that in them is,” and in her simple way she would “praise the Lord for all his wonderful works.” Charlie little knew of the strong feelings which agitated the breast to which he was clasped, while his little sister lisped of the lessons learned at her mother’s knee.

Those days of Daph’s sickness were precious days to Captain Jones, and he was almost sorry when the stout negro triumphed over her enemy, and came on deck to resume her charge.

The air grew chill as the “Martha Jane” sped on her northward course, and the white dresses of the children fluttered, most unseasonably, in the cool breeze. The ship’s stores were ransacked for some material, of which to make them more suitable, though extempore clothing. A roll of red flannel was all that promised to answer the purpose. The captain took the place of master-workman, and cut out what he called “a handsome suit for a pair of sea-birds;” and Daph, with her clumsy fingers, made the odd garments. She felt ready to cry as she put them on, to see her pets so disfigured; but Captain Jones laughed at her dolorous face, and said the red frock only made his “lily” look the fairer, and turned Charlie into the sailor he should be.

The “Martha Jane” was nearing the familiar waters of her own northern home, when the Captain called Daph into the cabin, one evening, to consult with her on matters of importance.

With the happy disposition of the negro, Daph seemed to have forgotten that she was not always to live on board the “Martha Jane,” and under the kind protection of her sailor-friend; she was, therefore, not a little startled, when he addressed to her the blunt question:

“Where are you going, Daph?”

Now, Daph had a most indistinct idea of the world at large, but, thus brought suddenly to a decision, she promptly named the only northern city of which she had heard. “I’se going to New York,” she said; “Miss Elize, my dear missus, was born dere, and it seems de right sort of a place to be takin de sweet babies to.”

“Daph,” said the honest captain, “we shall put in to New York to-morrow, for I have freight to land there, but you had better go on with me to old Boston. There I can look after you a little, and put you under charge of my good mother; and a better woman never trod shoe-leather, for all her son is none of the best. Shall it be so, Daph?”

“Could n’t do it! Massa Cap’in. Boston! dat mus be mighty far off. I nebber hear tell of such a place. New York’s de home for my babies, just where missus was born. May be, some ob her grand cousins may be turnin up da, to be friends to de pretty dears. Nobody would eber find us, way off in Boston!”

It was in vain that the captain tried to change Daph’s resolution; to New York she would go, and he now attacked her at another point, asking, “What are you going to do when you get there, Daph? Have you got any money?”

“Not so berry much to begin wid,” said Daph, producing a bit of rag from her pocket, in which some small change, the result of her traffic in chickens, was stored. “Not much money, Massa Cap’in, as you see for yeself; but what do you tink ob dese?” Daph loosened her dress, and showed on her black neck several gold chains, hung with rings of great richness and value, and an old-fashioned necklace, set with precious stones. “What do you tink ob dese, Massa Cap’in?” she repeated, as she displayed her treasures to his astonished sight.

Daph had put her valuables on for safe-keeping, doubtless, yet not without a certain satisfaction in wearing articles which so gratified the love of finery common to the black race.

The captain looked at the jewelry with a sober, pitying expression, as he said, compassionately, “Poor Daph! If you should offer one of those rich chains for sale in New York, you might be hurried off to jail as a thief, in a twinkling; then what would become of my pets?”

Daph betook herself to tears for a few moments, and then rallied, and said, stoutly, “Daph can work for de babies. She’s a strong darky. Heard massa say many a time, Daph would bring a big price. Daph will make heaps of money, and keep young massa and missus libbing like great folks, as dey should.”

At this idea, Daph’s face regained all its usual cheerfulness, and she could not be shaken by the further doubts and fears brought forward by Captain Jones.

“Keep what you have round your neck safely then, Daph,” said the honest sailor, “and never try to sell them, unless you are ready to starve. Here’s a little purse of solid gold, that I meant as a present for my mother; she, good soul, would rather you had it, I know. This will keep you till you can get a start, and then, may be, you can work for the dear children, as you say. I have an acquaintance in New York, who may let you a room or two, and if she can take you in, you may get along.”

“I knew de great Lord would look out for us. His name be praised!” said the poor negro, gratefully, as she kissed the hand of Captain Jones. “Ye wont lose your reward, Massa Cap’in; He’ll reckon wid ye!” and she pointed reverently upwards.

“May He reckon with me in mercy, and not count up my sins!” the captain said, solemnly, and then bade Daph “good-night.”

IV.

The Red House with the Blue Shutters.

Captain Jones was a prompt and upright business-man, faithful to his engagements, at any sacrifice.

He was pledged to remain in New York the shortest possible space of time, he therefore had not, after attending to necessary business, even an hour to devote to Daph and the little ones. It was a sad moment to him, when he strained Charlie to his breast for the last time, and kissed his “Water-lily,” as he loved to call Louise.

He had given Daph a letter to a sailor’s widow, with whom he thought she would be able to secure a home, where she would escape the idle and vicious poor who congregated in less respectable parts of the city. After having made Daph count on her fingers, half a dozen times, the number of streets she must cross before she came to “the small red house, with blue shutters,” where she was to stop, he piloted the little party into Broadway, and setting their faces in the right direction, he bade them an affectionate farewell.

As he shook Daph’s black hand for the last time, she placed in his a small parcel, clumsily tied up in brown paper, saying, “You puts that in your pocket, Massa Cap’in, and when you gets to sea, you open it, and you will understand what Daph means.”

Captain Jones did, almost unconsciously, as Daph suggested, as, with a full heart, he turned away from the little ones who had become so dear to him.

Once more, the only protector of her master’s children, Daph’s energy seemed to return to her. She wound the shawl more closely about Louise, drew Charlie to her honest bosom, looked after the various bundles, and then set off at a regular marching pace.

The strange appearance of the little party, soon attracted the attention of the knots of idle boys, who even then infested the more populous parts of New York.

“Hallo, Darky! where’s your hand-organ? What’ll ye take for your monkeys?” shouted one of these young rascals, as he eyed the children in their odd-looking red flannel garments.

Louise clung closely to Daph, who strode steadily on, apparently unconscious of the little troop gathering in her rear. By degrees the young scamps drew nearer to her, and one of them, taking hold of the skirt of her dress, cried out, “Come, fellows, form a line! Follow the captain, and do as you see me do!”

A long string of boys arranged themselves behind Daph, each holding on to the other’s tattered garments, and walking with mock solemnity, while the foremost shouted in Daph’s ear the most provoking and impudent things his imagination and rascality could suggest.

Daph maintained her apparent unconsciousness until she came in front of a large door, with a deep recess, which opened directly on the street, and but a step above the pavement.

With a sudden and unexpected jerk she freed herself from her tormentor, then placing Charlie and Louise for a moment in the recess, she charged upon her assailants. Right and left she dealt hearty slaps, with her open hand, which sent the little crew howling away, their cheeks smarting with pain and burning with rage. The whole thing was the work of a moment. Daph took Charlie in her arms, clasped the trembling hand of Louise, and resumed her steady walk as calmly as if nothing had occurred.

There was much to attract the attention of the strangers in the new scenes about them, but Daph kept her head straight forward, and devoted all her attention to numbering the corners she passed, that she might know when to begin to look out for the house so carefully described by good Captain Jones.

Louise soon grew weary of keeping pace with Daph’s long strides, and the faithful negro lifted the little girl in her arms, and went patiently on with her double burden.

A weary, weary walk it seemed, even to the strong-limbed negro, before they passed the last corner, according to her reckoning, and stood in front of the very red house with blue shutters which she had been so anxious to see. Much as she had longed to reach it, its appearance did not fill Daph’s heart with joy. A sort of dread of the new people whom she was to meet stole over her, but she resolved to put a bold face on the matter, and in this mood she gave a heavy knock at the blue door. Her imperative summons was promptly answered.

The door was opened by a little girl, of about ten years of age, who was covered, from her slender neck to her bare feet, with a long checked pinafore, above which appeared a closely-cropped, brown head, and a small, demure-looking face. The child stood perfectly still, gazing in quiet wonder at the strangers, and waiting to hear their business.

Daph had to set the children down on the steps, and fumble in her bosom for the captain’s precious note. She drew it at last from its hiding-place, and handed it triumphantly to the young porteress, saying, “Dis is what’ll tell you who we are, and what we wants.” The little girl looked at the note with a puzzled expression, and then calmly walked away, down the narrow hall, without saying a word. Daph sat down on the door-step, and took the children on her lap, with a kind of faith that all would go well, which made her feel quite easy. She was making the children laugh at a playful pig, that was running up and down the street, when angry tones from within met her ear, and she caught the following words:

“Take a negro for a lodger! I shall do no such thing! Who does Captain Jones think I am!”

“Mother,” said a calm young voice, “you know we shall be behind with the rent, and then, the children are white; one of them is the whitest child I ever saw.”

“The rent, yes, that is a bad business. Well, I suppose I must come to it! What one does have to put up with in this world! Show the woman in!”

Daph, who had heard the whole conversation quite plainly, rose at the last words, and was ready to accept the invitation to walk into the back room, which she immediately received.

Daph made a polite courtesy to the sour-looking little woman, who seemed hardly strong enough to have spoken in the loud, harsh tones which had just been heard.

“So Captain Jones sent you here!” said the woman, somewhat tartly, as she eyed the odd-looking party.

Daph had taken off the shawl from Louise, and set Charlie on his feet, that the children might appear to the best advantage; she stood proudly between them, as she said, “I wants to hire a room for my missus’s children. We’s been ’bliged to come north this summer, and will have to look out a bit for ourselves, as massa could n’t come wid us.”

“Daphne,” said the woman, sweetening a little, “Captain Jones says that is your name, and that you are an honest industrious woman? Do you think you will be able to pay the rent, regularly?”

“I has a right to my name,” said Daph, straightening up her stout figure. “Missus had it gib to me, like any white folks, when she had me baptised. I isn’t particler about having all of it, so most folks calls me Daph. Is I honest? Look me in de eye, and answer dat yeself. Is I industrious? Look at dat arm, and dese ere fingers; do dey look like if I was lazy?”

The clear eye, muscular arm, and hard work-worn hand were indeed the best assurances the doubtful questioner could have received.

“As to de rent,” added Daph, “my missus’ children isn’t widout money.” As she spoke, she gave her pocket a hearty shake, which produced a significant chinking, that seemed quite satisfactory.

“You are a queer one!” said the woman, “but you may as well look at the room. It’s right there in front; you passed it as you came in.”

Daph stepped to the door of the front room, pushed it open, and looked around her, with her head thrown a little on one side, as if that position were favorable to forming a correct judgment as to its merits.

“Well, it do be radder small,” she said, after a few moment’s dignified consideration, “but den it be proper clean, and two winder to de street, for de childen. Haven’t ye got anything to put in it; no chair, nor table, nor such like?”

“You will have to furnish for yourself,” said the woman, “but you shall have the room on reasonable terms.”

The bargain was soon made, but whether on reasonable terms or not, Daph had but little idea, though she prudently concealed her ignorance.

Once in her own domain, Daph sat down on the floor, and giving each of the children a huge sea-biscuit, she took them in her arms, and began to wave to and fro, singing one of the wild negro melodies, which spring up wherever the African race take root.

The weary children were soon in a sound sleep, and then Daph laid them carefully down on the clean floor, covered them with the shawls she had found so useful, and then sat stock-still beside them, for a few moments, lost in deep thought. After a while, she took from her pocket the purse the captain had given her, and her own store of small change, wrapped in its bit of rag. The latter she laid aside, saying, “That mus do for eat. Dat Daph’s own. Now dis, Daph jus borry from de cap’in. Massa’s children don’t have to come to livin on other people when Daph’s on her feet. Cap’in Jones got he money’s worth in that beauty gold chain I puts in his hand, and he not know it.”

Here Daph gave a real negro chuckle, at the thought of the artifice, which had made her feel at liberty to use the money so kindly given her, without accepting charity, from which she revolted, as well for herself as for her master’s children.

“Now Daph must be gittin dis place in order quick, or de childen will be wakin up,” said Daph, as she rose hastily with the air of one prepared for action. She carefully closed the shutters, locked the door behind her, and putting the key in her pocket, set off to make her purchases.

V.

Daph’s Shopping.

Daph had observed a small cabinet-maker’s shop, not far from her new home, and to it she easily made her way. The sight of two little wooden chairs, painted with the usual variety of wonderfully bright colors, attracted her attention, and suggested her plan of operations.

“It’s for de childen I’se buying,” she said, “and what’s de use ob paying a big price for grown up things. I just wants two chairs and a few tings to match for de dears.” While Daph was thus soliloquising, the shopman came forward, and she promptly addressed him as follows, “I’se jus come, sar, to buy de fixin ob a leetle room for my massa’s childen, General Louis La Tourette.”

Daph mentioned her master’s name with a pompous air, and with great distinctness, which had their effect on the humble cabinet-maker. He moved about briskly, and Daph soon had displayed before her all the small articles of furniture he had on hand.

The bright yellow chairs, adorned with the wonderful roses and tulips, were first set aside; then followed a little table, painted in the same fanciful manner, and lastly, a good-sized trundle bed, of a somewhat less gaudy appearance.

“I’se in a most pertickler hurry, jus now,” said Daph; “would you jus hab de kindness to get for de bed jus what will make it look neat and comfable; not too nice for childen to play on, while I steps out for a few notions as I’se ’bliged to git.”

The shopkeeper kindly complied, while Daph went on her way delighted at being thus able to have what the children would need for comfort, a matter about which she felt herself quite ignorant in this new climate.

Daph’s next stop was at a tinman’s. Two wash-basins, such as she had seen on board ship, three shining tin cups, three pewter plates and spoons, one strong knife and a capacious saucepan, completed the purchases which she promptly made. Drawing a gold piece from the captain’s purse, she laid it calmly down on the counter, then gathered up the various articles selected. The tinker eyed her a little suspiciously, but there was no look of shame or guilt in her frank and honest face. He concluded she was a servant, sent out by her mistress, and carefully gave her the right change, which seemed, in Daph’s eyes, to double her possessions. When she returned to the cabinet-maker’s, she found the trundle-bed neatly fitted out, while a lad with a wheelbarrow was ready to take home the furniture. She added to her purchases a plain wooden bench, and then said, composedly, “I don’t know de valer ob such like tings, but General Louis La Tourette, my massa, does, and you must deal right and honest.” As she spoke, she laid down two of her precious gold pieces, then gathered up the small change returned to her, not without some misgivings as to the accuracy of the shopman.

When Daph reached home, she found the children still sleeping soundly, and she was able to get the little room in order to her satisfaction before they were fairly awake.

She turned up the trundle-bed on end, and threw over it as a curtain the pure white spread the shopman had provided. The deep recess on one side of the chimney, thus shut in, Daph intended to consider as her private resort, and in the small cupboard in the wall, she laid out the children’s clothes with scrupulous care. This done, she set out the little table with the new cups and plates, and drew the chairs near it, while the remaining tin treasures were ranged along the wash-bench in the most attractive manner.

It was well for Louise and Charlie that they had been much accustomed to being away from their mother, or they might have been poorly prepared for their present lot.

General La Tourette had married a young American girl, who was then living on an island near that on which his plantation was situated. Shortly after this marriage, the husband received a dangerous wound in his side, which unfitted him for active duty, and he resolved to settle down on his own plantation, which had for a long time been under the care of a most injudicious overseer.

Daph accompanied her mistress to her new home, and tried her utmost skill in cookery to tempt her master’s now delicate appetite. Even her powers were at last at fault, and General La Tourette could not taste the tempting morsels which the faithful creature loved always to prepare for him.

Frequent change of air was now prescribed for the invalid, and the fond mother was almost constantly separated from the children she so tenderly loved; yet her sweet, devoted, christian character had already made its impression on the little Louise.

Thus situated, the children had learned to be happy for the present hour, with any one who happened to have the charge of them. General La Tourette, though a native of France, spoke English in his family, and to that language his little ones were accustomed. They took no fancy to the cross French nurse who had latterly had the charge of them, and much preferred Daph, whose English was pleasant to their ears. They loved to linger at the door of her southern kitchen, or play under the wide-spreading tree that waved over its roof.

Daph returned their affection with all the strength of her warm heart, and Mrs. La Tourette felt sure that in her absence, Daph would watch over both children and nurse with an eagle-eye.

With more of the dove than the eagle in her expression, Daph now sat beside the little ones in their new home, so far from the land of their birth.

Not long after her preparations were completed, Daph had the satisfaction of seeing the children awake, refreshed by their long sleep, and full of eager delight at the wonders achieved by their new nurse. She listened with hearty satisfaction to their exclamations of surprise and pleasure at the shining tin and gayly painted chairs.

Daph was just wondering what was to fill plates and cups that looked so attractive, when a bell was rung imperatively, in the street, before the house. From all sides women and girls gathered round the bell-ringer’s cart, and from his great cans he filled their vessels with milk, which was at this moment most refreshing to the eyes of Daph. She seized her new saucepan, and sallying out, presented it to the milkman, and received her supply. She watched carefully the bits of money given by other applicants and was fortunate enough to select, from the change she had that day received, the right payment for the milk.

In a few moments, the children were seated at the little table, and enjoying their nice supper of crackers and milk, in a way that made Daph’s eyes sparkle with delight.

“Daffy eat too!” said Charlie, motioning to her to put the spoon in her mouth, instead of his own. “Yes, Daffy,” said Louise, “do take some supper.”

Daph had hardly thought once of herself during the whole of this busy afternoon, but when the children had finished their meal, she filled her cup with the fare they had enjoyed, and ate it with no less satisfaction.

“Daph knew de great Lord would take care of us!” she murmured, as she looked round on the room that seemed to her so comfortable, and true, fervent gratitude, undisturbed by one fear for the future, filled the heart of the faithful negro.

VI.

Clouds.

Alas for Daph! She was soon to find life was not all sunshine in her northern home. The lovely May weather, which had been like a pleasant welcome to the strangers, suddenly vanished, and was succeeded by dark clouds, pouring rain, and keen easterly winds. Daph was glad to keep the children wrapped in the bed-clothes, while she racked her ingenuity to find means of amusing them. Charlie took a wash-basin for a drum, and the pewter spoon with which he beat it was a constant and patient sufferer. Louise was not so easily pleased; she began to miss her mother sorely, and tried poor Daph, by pleading piteously to see her “own dear mamma.”