A Yankee Girl at Fort Sumter by Alice Turner Curtis (funny books to read .txt) 📕

"I don't know, Estralla! Let's not talk about it," she replied.

"Wal, Missy, lots of darkies are runnin' off! My mammy say we'll stay right here 'til Massa Fulton goes, an' den"—Estralla stopped, leaned a little nearer to Sylvia and whispered, "an' den my mammy an' I we'se gwine to go with Massa Fulton."

Mrs. Fulton was not in her room, so Sylvia went down the stairs to look for her. She heard voices in the sitting-room, and turned in that direction.

"Oh!" she whispered, as she stood in the open door. For her mother was sitting on the big sofa near the open fire, and beside her sat Mr. Robert Waite, while her father was standing in front of them. They were all talking so earnestly that they did not notice the surprised little girl standing in the doorway, and Sylvia heard Mr. Waite say:

"I shall be glad to protect your interests here, Mr. Fulton, as far as it is possible to do so. And you had better leave Charleston immediately. The city is no longer a safe place for northern people. The conflict may begin at any moment."

"'Conflict,'" Sylvia repeated the word to herself. Probably it meant something dreadful, she thought, recalling the "question period" at Miss Rosalie's school.

Just then Mr. Waite glanced toward the door and saw Sylvia. In a second he was on his feet, bowing as politely as on their last meeting.

"Miss Sylvia, I am glad to see you again," and he stepped forward to meet her.

Sylvia, feeling quite grown-up, made her pretty curtsey, and smiled with delight at Mr. Waite's greeting, as he led her toward her mother and, with another polite bow, gave her the seat on the sofa.

"I was hoping to see Miss Sylvia," he said. "I had meant to make her a little Christmas gift, with your permission," and he bowed again to Mrs. Fulton. "She was kind enough to interest herself in behalf of one of my people, the little darky, Estralla. And so I thought this would please you," and he smiled at Sylvia, who began to be sure that Mr. Waite and Santa Claus must be exactly alike. As he spoke he handed Sylvia a long envelope.

"Do not open it until to-morrow, if you please," he added.

Sylvia promised and thanked him. She wondered if the envelope might not contain a picture of this kind friend. She knew that she must not ask a question; questions were never polite, she remembered, especially about a gift. But whatever it was she was very happy to think Mr. Robert Waite had remembered her.

They all went to the door with their friendly visitor, and stood there until he had reached the gate. Then Sylvia said, speaking very slowly:

"I think Mr. Robert Waite is just like the Knights in that book, 'The Age of Chivalry.' They always did exactly what was right, and so does he; and they were polite and so is he."

"Then, my dear, perhaps you will always remember that to do brave and gentle deeds with kindness is what 'chivalry' means," responded Mrs. Fulton.

Grace came in that afternoon greatly excited that it was a holiday. The whole city was rejoicing over the fact that South Carolina had been the first of the southern states to secede from the Union. Palmetto flags floated everywhere; the streets were filled with marching men. Major Anderson in Fort Moultrie watched Fort Sumter with anxious eyes, hoping for a word from Washington which would give him authority to occupy it before the Charleston men could turn its guns against him. Already Mr. Doane had reached Washington; the message Sylvia had carried through the night had been delivered, and its answer, by a trusted messenger, was on its way south.

CHAPTER XVIII GREAT NEWS

Sylvia carried the long envelope which Mr. Robert Waite had given her to her room, and put it in the drawer of her desk with the treasured gold pieces.

"It will be splendid to have a picture of Mr. Waite to show Grandma
Fulton," she thought happily, "and I can tell her all about him."

Then her thoughts rested on Flora, in the "haunted house," and she opened the silk-covered work-box and tried on the pretty gold thimble. She thought of her gold pieces, and a sudden resolve came into her mind:

"I will give Flora and Grace each a gold locket, with my picture in it." And just then Mrs. Fulton entered the room, and Sylvia ran toward her:

"Mother! Mother! I have a beautiful plan. I want to give Flora and Grace each a present. I want to give them each a gold locket with my picture in it. On Grace's locket I want 'Grace from Sylvia,' and on Flora's, 'Flora from Sylvia.' I can pay for them with my gold money. I may, mayn't I, Mother?" and Sylvia looked eagerly toward her mother.

"Of course you may; but it is too late to get the pictures and lockets in time for Christmas," responded Mrs. Fulton.

"I don't care when; only if we do go back to Boston I want them to have something to remember me by," said Sylvia, remembering the unfailing loyalty of her two little southern friends.

"The day after Christmas we will select the lockets, and see about the pictures," said Mrs. Fulton. Before Sylvia could answer there came a tap at the door, and Aunt Connie, evidently rather anxious and uncertain, whispered:

"Dar's a lady, Mistress, a lady f'um de fort, an' she say—"

"It must be Mrs. Carleton. I'll go right down," responded Mrs. Fulton, and, followed by Sylvia, she hurried down the stairs, to find Mrs. Carleton awaiting them.

"Captain Carleton insisted that I should come to you," she said. "He
feels sure that the Charleston men mean to take Fort Sumter at once.
Major Anderson is sending the women and children away from Fort
Moultrie to places of safety."

"Of course you must stay with us, and we are delighted to have you," said Mrs. Fulton. "We want to stay in Charleston unless it becomes necessary for us to leave."

Mrs. Carleton greeted Sylvia warmly, and, greatly to her surprise, said:

"I have not had the opportunity to thank you, dear child, for delivering the message safely. We have heard that Mr. Doane has presented the letter to the President, and Major Anderson is sure that reinforcements and provisions for the forts will be sent at once." Then turning to Mrs. Fulton, she continued: "I know this loyal child kept her secret, and that even you and her father do not realize what a service your little daughter has rendered to the cause of Freedom!"

Mrs. Fulton was looking at her visitor in amazement.

"Sylvia! Message! Secret?" she exclaimed in such a puzzled tone that both Mrs. Carleton and Sylvia laughed aloud.

"Tell her, Sylvia! And I want to hear how you delivered the letter," said Mrs. Carleton.

So Sylvia told the story of creeping out of the house at nearly midnight, of the man who had declared her to be a runaway darky, of Estralla following her, and of their return. "And the door was closed and fastened, although I left it open," she concluded.

Mrs. Fulton recalled that one night they had been slightly disturbed by some unusual noise and that Mr. Fulton had gone down-stairs and discovered the front door open. "And we blamed Aunt Connie," she added.

"I did want to tell you, Mother," said Sylvia, "but it's even better to have Mrs. Carleton tell you."

That evening the story was retold to Mr. Fulton, who listened with even more surprise than Sylvia's mother had shown. He said that Estralla had been as brave as Sylvia, and that he wished he could do an equal service for the United States.

"This will be a fine story to tell Grandma Fulton," he whispered to
Sylvia, when he gave her his good-night kiss.

She awoke early, before Estralla appeared with the usual pitcher of hot water and to light the fire in the grate, and in a moment was out of bed and at her desk. She opened the envelope very carefully, expecting to see the pictured face of her kind friend smiling at her, But there was no picture. There were only two documents tied with red tape, and with big red seals on them, and a number of printed and signed papers.

"Oh, clear! It isn't anything at all except letters," exclaimed Sylvia, nearly ready to cry with disappointment. And, suddenly, she did cry—a cry so like Estralla's wail that the little darky just entering the room stopped short, and nearly dropped the pitcher of hot water.

"Wat's de matter, Missy? Wat is de matter?" Estralla demanded.

Tears were in Sylvia's eyes as she turned toward the little darky. They were not tears for her own disappointment at not finding the expected picture, but they were tears for what Sylvia believed to be the most bitter misfortune that could befall Estralla and Aunt Connie. For she was sure that the papers in that envelope were to tell her that Aunt Connie and Estralla had both been sold. But she resolved quickly that Estralla should not know of this until she had told her mother.

"Nothing I can tell you now, Estralla," she said, wiping away her tears.

Estralla looked quite ready to weep with her young mistress, but she lit the fire, and crept silently out of the room.

Sylvia dressed as quickly as possible, picked up the papers and ran to her mother's room.

"Look, Mother! It's dreadful. It wasn't a picture of Mr. Robert Waite at all. It's just a lot of papers about Estralla and Aunt Connie being sold," and Sylvia began to cry bitterly.

Mr. Fulton took the papers and looked them over, while Sylvia with her mother's arm about her sobbed out her disappointment.

"Sold! Estralla! Why, my dear Sylvia, these papers give Aunt Connie and Estralla their freedom, from yesterday. And these," and Mr. Fulton held up the smaller documents, "give them permission to leave Charleston for the north at any time within six months."

For a moment neither Sylvia nor her mother made any response to this wonderful statement.

"Truly, Father? Truly?" exclaimed Sylvia with shining eyes.

"Yes. These papers have been recorded. Estralla and her mother are no longer slaves. They are free," said Mr. Fulton, as he folded the papers. "Mr. Waite has made you the finest gift in the world, little daughter," he added seriously.

"And Estralla and Aunt Connie may go to Boston with us?" pleaded
Sylvia, quite sure that her father and mother would agree. "Won't
Grandma be surprised to see them?"

Mrs. Carleton was as pleased and surprised as Sylvia herself over Mr. Waite's gift, and it was decided that directly after breakfast Sylvia should tell Aunt Connie and Estralla the wonderful news. It was too great to be kept a secret even until Christmas Day.

"Dar, Mammy! Wat I tells yo'? I tells yo' Missy Sylvia gwine to look out fer us," Estralla declared triumphantly, evidently not at all surprised.

"But it is Mr. Robert Waite who has given you your freedom," Sylvia reminded them, "and my father says that you must both go with me and thank him."

"Yas, Missy," responded Aunt Connie, "but I reckons we wouldn't be thankin' him if 'twan't fer yo'. Massa Robert HE knows dat all his niggers gwine to be free jes' as soon as de Yankees come. Yas, indeedy, he knows. But we shuahly go long wid yo', Missy, an' thanks him. We knows our manners."

Many eyes turned to watch the smiling colored woman and the delighted little negro girl who walked down King Street that afternoon, one on each side of a little white girl who looked as well pleased as her companions, for Sylvia decided that no time should be lost in telling Mr. Robert Waite of how greatly his generosity was appreciated.

He welcomed Sylvia with his usual cordiality, and told Aunt Connie that he wished her good fortune, and sent her and Estralla home.

"I will walk back with your young mistress," he said, and Sylvia felt that it was the proudest day of her life when she walked up King Street beside the friendly southerner.

"He talks just as if I were grown up," thought Sylvia gratefully, when Mr. Waite spoke of the forts, and of the possibilities of war between the northern and southern states.

"Tell your father not to hasten his preparations to leave Charleston; you are among friends, and these difficulties may be adjusted," Mr. Waite said as he bade Sylvia good-bye, and wished her a