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

"They are all for you," said Sylvia, lifting up a pretty blue cape and holding it toward Estralla.

"My lan'!" whispered Estralla.

There was a dress of blue delaine with tiny white dots, two pretty white aprons, the blue cape, and shoes and stockings, beside some of Sylvia's part-worn underwear. She had begged her mother to let her give the little darky these things, and Mrs. Fulton had been glad that her little daughter wished to do so.

"Estralla has never had ANYTHING," Sylvia had urged, "and she is always afraid of something. Of being whipped or sold. And I would like to see her have clothes like other girls."

Estralla wanted to try on the shoes at once, and when she found that they fitted very comfortably, she chuckled and laughed with delight. Neither of the girls heard a rap at the door, and both were surprised when Aunt Connie, who had opened the door and stood waiting, exclaimed:

"Fo' lan's sake! Wat you lettin' that darky dress up in you' clo'es fer, Missy Sylvia?"

"They are her own clothes now, Aunt Connie," Sylvia explained. "My mother said I might give them to her."

For a moment the negro woman stood silent. Then she put her hands up to her face and began to cry, very quietly. Estralla's laughter vanished. She wondered if her mammy was going to tell her that she could not keep the things.

"'Scusie, Missy," muttered Aunt Connie; "you'se an angel to my po' little gal. An' I'se 'bliged to you. But I'se feared the chile won't wear 'em long. Massa Robert Waite's man sez he's gwine sell her off right soon."

"He cyan't do no sech thing. Missy Sylvia won't let him," declared Estralla, who was perfectly sure that "Missy Sylvia" could do whatever she wished. With a pair of shoes on her feet and the blue cape over her shoulders Estralla had more courage. Sylvia's kindness had given the little colored girl a hope of happier days.

"Aunt Connie, I'll do all I can for Estralla," said Sylvia.

"Will you, Missy? Then ask yo' pa not to let Estralla be sold," pleaded
Aunt Connie.

Sylvia promised, and Aunt Connie went off smilingly. But Sylvia wondered if her father could prevent Mr. Robert Waite from selling the negro girl. "Estralla," she said very soberly, "I have promised that you shall not be sold, and I will ask my father. But if he cannot do anything, we will have to do something ourselves. Will you do whatever I tell you?"

"Oh, yas indeed, Missy," Estralla answered eagerly.

"Well, I'll ask Father to-night. And to-morrow morning you bring up my hot water, and I'll tell you what he says. But don't be frightened, anyway," said Sylvia.

"I ain't skeered like I used to be," responded Estralla. "Yo' see,
Missy, I feels jes' as if you was my true fr'en'."

"I'll try to be," Sylvia promised.

Estralla went off happy with her new possessions, and Sylvia turned to the window, and looked off across the beautiful harbor toward the forts. She had heard her father say, that very noon, that South Carolina would fight to keep its slaves, and she wondered if the soldiers in Fort Moultrie would not fight to set the black people free. She remembered that her father had said that Fort Sumter was the property of the United States; and, for some reason which she could not explain even to herself, she was sure that Estralla would be safe there. If Mr. Robert Waite really meant to sell her, Sylvia again resolved to find some way to get the little slave girl to Fort Sumter.

When Estralla brought the hot water the next morning she found a very sober little mistress. For Sylvia's father had not only explained the meaning of the word "abolitionist" as being the name the southerners had given to the men who were determined that slavery of other men, whatever their color, should end, but he had told his little daughter that he could do nothing to prevent the sale of the little colored girl, and that not even at Fort Sumter would she be safe. Sylvia had not gone to sleep very early. She lay awake thinking of Estralla. "Suppose somebody could sell me away from my mother," she thought, ready to cry even at such a possibility. Sylvia knew that Aunt Connie had been whipped because she had rebelled against parting with her older children, and there was no Philip to take Aunt Connie's part.

"Mornin', Missy," said Estralla, coming into the room, and setting down the pitcher of hot water very carefully. She had on the pink gingham with one of the white aprons, and as she stood smiling and neat at the foot of Sylvia's bed, she looked very different from the clumsy little darky who had tumbled into the room a few weeks ago. Sylvia smiled back. "Estralla, I want you to be sure to come up-stairs to-night after the house is all quiet. Don't tell your mother, or anybody," she said very soberly.

"All right, Missy," agreed Estralla, sure that whatever Missy Sylvia asked was right.

Sylvia said nothing more, but dressed and went down to breakfast. She heard her father say that he feared that South Carolina would secede from the United States, and she repeated the word aloud: "'Secede'? What does that mean?" She began to think the world was full of difficult words.

"In this case it means that the State of South Carolina wishes to give up her rights as one of the States of the Union," Mr. Fulton explained, "but we hope she will give up slavery instead," he concluded.

Grace was at the gate as Sylvia came out ready for school, and called out a gay greeting.

"What are you so sober about, Sylvia?" she asked as they walked on together.

When Sylvia had told Estralla to come to her room that night, she had determined to find a way to get the little negro to a place of safety. Sylvia did not know that a negro was, in those far-off days, the property of his master as much as a horse or a dog, and that wherever the negro might go his master could claim him and punish him for trying to escape. Any person aiding a slave to escape could also be punished by law.

All Sylvia thought of was to have Estralla protected, and she was quite sure that a United States fort could protect one little negro girl. Nevertheless she was troubled and worried as to how she could carry out her plan; but she resolved not to tell Grace.

As usual Flora was waiting at Miss Patten's gate for her friends. She was wearing a pretty turban hat, and pinned in front was a fine blue cockade, to which Flora pointed and said: "Look, girls. This is the Secession Cockade. Ralph gave it to me," she explained; "all loyal Carolinians ought to wear it, Ralph says."

"What does it mean to wear one?" asked Sylvia.

"Oh, it means that you believe South Carolina has a right to keep its slaves, and sell them, of course; and if the United States interferes, why, Carolinians will teach them a lesson," Flora explained grandly, repeating the explanation her father had given her that very morning.

Many of the other girls wore blue cockades, and a palmetto flag was hung behind Miss Rosalie's desk.

"Young ladies," said Miss Rosalie, "I have hung South Carolina's flag where you can all see it. You all know that a flag is an emblem. Our flag means the glory of our past and the hope of the future. I will ask you all to rise and salute this flag!"

The little girls all stood, and each raised her right hand. All but
Sylvia. Flushed and unhappy, with downcast eyes, she kept her seat.
This was not the "Stars and Stripes," the flag she had been taught to
love and honor. She knew that the palmetto flag stood for slavery.

Sylvia did not know what Miss Rosalie would say to her, and, even worse than her teacher's disapproval, she was sure that her schoolmates, perhaps even Grace and Flora, would dislike and blame her for not saluting their flag.

But she was soon to realize just how serious was her failure to salute the palmetto flag. Miss Rosalie came down the aisle and laid a note on Sylvia's desk.

It was very brief: "You may go home at recess. Take your books and go quietly without a word to any of the other pupils. You may tell your parents that I do not care to have you as a pupil for another day."

As Sylvia read these words the tears sprang to her eyes. It was all she could do not to sob aloud. She dared not look at the other girls. She held a book before her face, and only hoped that she could keep back the tears until recess-time.

But not for a moment did Sylvia wish that she had saluted a flag which stood for the protection of slavery. Miss Rosalie had said that a flag was an "emblem," and even in her unhappiness Sylvia knew that the emblem of the United States stood for justice and liberty.

When the hour of recess came Sylvia had her books neatly strapped, and, as Miss Rosalie had directed, she left the room quietly without one word to any of the other girls. She had nearly reached the gate when she heard steps close behind her and Grace's voice calling: "Sylvia, Sylvia, dear," and Grace's arm was about her. "It's a mean shame," declared the warm-hearted little southern girl, "and flag or no flag, I'm your true friend."

"Grace! Grace!" called Miss Rosalie, and before Sylvia could respond her loyal playmate had turned obediently back to the house.

Sylvia stepped out on the street, her eyes a little blurred by tears, but greatly comforted by Grace's assuring words of friendship.

She did not want to go home and tell her mother what had happened, and show her Miss Patten's note, for she knew that her mother would be troubled and unhappy.

Suddenly she decided to go to her father's warehouse and tell him, and go home with him at noon. She was sure her father would think she had done right.

She turned and walked quickly down King Street, and in a short time she was near the wharves and could see the long building where her father stored the cotton he purchased from the planters. The wharves were piled high with boxes and bales, and there were small boats coming in to the wharves, and others making ready to depart.

Sylvia could see her father's boat close to the wharf near the warehouse. "I wish I could take that boat and carry Estralla off to Fort Sumter," she thought.

A good-natured negro led her to Mr. Fulton's office, and before her father could say a word Sylvia was in the midst of her story. She told of the blue cockades that the other girls wore, of the palmetto flag, and of her failure to salute it, and handed him Miss Patten's note.

Mr. Fulton looked serious and troubled as he listened to his little girl's story. Then he lifted her to his knee, took off her pretty hat, and said:

"Too bad, dear child! But you did right. A little Yankee girl must be loyal to the Stars and Stripes. I am glad you came and told me."

For a moment it seemed to Sylvia that her father had forgotten all about her. He was looking straight out of the window.

While he had not forgotten his little girl he was thinking that Charleston people must be quite ready to take the serious step of urging their State to declare her secession from the United States, and her right to buy and sell human beings as slaves.

He wished that the United States officers at Fort Moultrie could realize that at any time Charleston men might seize Fort Sumter, where there were but few soldiers, and he said aloud: "I ought to warn them."

Sylvia wondered for a moment what her father could mean, but he said quickly: "Jump down and put on your hat. I'm going to sail down to Fort Moultrie and have a talk with my good friends there, and you can come with me."

At this good news Sylvia forgot all her troubles. A sail across the harbor with her father was the most delightful thing that she could imagine. And she held fast to his hand, smiling happily, as they walked down the wharf