Sketcher. Free Joe and the Rest of the World.

Waikato Times, Volume XXIV, Issue 2003, 9 May 1885, Page 2 (Supplement)

Sketcher. Free Joe and the Rest of the World.

(By Joel CiriNDLtn Huirih, iv the Cmfi'nj-)

The n»me of Free Joe strikes humorously upon the ear of memory. It ia impossible to say nhy, for ho was the humblest, the simplost, and the most serious of all God's living creatures, sadlj lacking in all those elements that suggest the humorous. It is certain, moreover, that in 1850 the Bober-minded citizens of tho little Georgian vdlage of Hilteborougb. were not inclined to take a humorous view of Joe, and neither his name nor his presence provoked a smilo. He was a black atom, drifting hither and thither without an owner, blown about by all tho winds of circumstance and given over to shif tlesiness. Tho problems of one generation are the paradoxes of a succeeding one, particularly if war, or some such incident, intervenes to clarify the atmosphere and strengthen the understanding. Thus, in 18r>0, Free Joe represented not only a problem of a largo concern, but, in tho watchful eye« of Hilhborougli, ho was the embodiment of that vague and mysterious danger that seemed to be for over lurking on tho outskirts of. slavery, ready to sound a shrill and ghostly signal in the impenetrable swamps and steal forth under the midnight stars to murder, rapine, and pillage ; a danger always threatening, and yet never assuming shape ; intangible, and yet real ; impossible, and yet not improbable. Across the serene and smiling front of safety the pale outlines of tho awful shadow of insurrection sometimes fell. With this invisible panorama as a background, it was natuial that the figure of Free Joe, umple and humble as it was, should assume undue proportion!. Go where ho would, do what ho might, he could not escape tho finger of observation and the kindling eye of suspicion. His lightest words were noted, his slightest actions marked. Under all the circumstances it was natural that his peculiar condition should reflect itself in his habits and manners. The slaves laughed loudly day by day, but Free Joe rarely laughed. The slaves sang at their work and danced at their frolics, but no one ever heard Free Joe sing or saw him dauce. There was something painfully plaintive and appealing in his attitude, something touching in his anxiety to please. He was fo the friendliest nature, and seemed to be delighted when he could amuse the little children who had made a playground of the public square. At times ho would please them by making his little dog Dan perform all sorts of curious tricks, or he would tell them quaint stories of the beasts of the field and birds of the air ; and frequently he was coaxed into relating tho itory of his own freedom. That story was brief, but tragical. In the year of our Lord 1810, when & negro■peculator of a sportive turn of mind reached the little village of Hillsborough on his way to the Mississippi region, with a caravan of likely negroes of both sexes, he found much to interest him. In that day and at that time there were a_ number of young men in the village who had 'not bound themselves over to repentance for the various misdeeds of the flesh. To these young men the negrospeculator (Major Compton was his name) proceeded to address himself. He was a Virginian, he declared, and, to prove his statement, ho referred all the young men of Hillsborougb to a barrel of peach brandy in one of his covered waggons In tho minds of these young men there was less doubt in regard to the age and quality of the brandy than there was in regard to to the negiotrader's birthplace. Major Compton might or might not have been born in the Old Dominion, — that was a matter for consideration and inquiry ; but there could be no question as to the mellow pungency of tho peach brandy. In his own estimation Major Compton wai ono of the most accomplished of men. He had summered at the Virginia Springs ; he had been to Philadelphia, to Washington, to Richmond, to Lynchburg, and to Chaileston, and had accumulated a great deal of experience, which he found useful. Hillsborough was hid in the hills of middle Georgia, and its general aspect of innocenco impressed him. He looked on the young men who had shown their readiness to test his peach brands as overgrown country boys who needed to be introduced to tome of tho arts and sciences he had at his command. Thereupon the Major pitched hii tent, lignratively speaking, and became, for the time being, a part and parcel o the innocence that characterised Hillsborough. A wiser man would doubtless have made the same mistake. The village possessed advantages that teemed to be providentially arranged to fit the various enterprises that Major Compton had in view. There was the auction-block in front of the stuc coed courthouse, if be desired to dispoie of a few of his negroes ; there was a quarter-track, laid out to hii hand and in excellent order, if he chose to enjoy the pleasures of horse- racing : there were secluded pine thickets within easy reach, if he de-

sired to indulge in the exciting pastimo of cockfighting: and various lonely and unoccupied 1 ooms in tho second story of tho tavern, if ho cai ed to challenge the chances of dice or caids. Major Cnmpton tried them all with varying luck, until he began Im famous game of poker withJudgo Alfred Wellington, a stately gentleman with a flowing white beard and mild blue ejes that gave him tho appeal anco of a benevolent patriarch. The history of the game m which M.ijor Compton and Judge Alfred Wellington took pait is something more than tradition in Hillsborough, for theie aie still living threo or four men ttho sat around the table and watched its pogress. It is said that at various stages of the game Major Compton would destroy tho caids with which they were playing, and send for a now pack, but tho result was always the same. The mild bluo eyes of Judge Wellington, with fow exceptions, continued to over-look " hands " that were invincible — a habit they had acquired during a long and arduous course of training fiom Saratoga to Orleans. Major Compton lost his money, Ins hoi sos, his waggons, and all his negroes but one, his body-servant. When his misfortuno had reached this limit the Major adjourned the game The sun was shining brightly, and all nature was cheerful. It is said that tho Major also seemed to be cheeiful. However this may be, he visited tho court-house and executed tho papers that gave his body-servant his freedom. This being done, Major Compton sauntered into a convenient pine thicket and blew out his brains. The negro thus freed came to bo known ai Free Joe. Compelled, under the law, to choose a guardian, he chose Judge Wellington, chiefly because his wife Lueinda w»s among the negroes won from Major Compton. For several years Free Joe had what may be called a jovial time. HU wifo Lucinda was well provided for, and he found it a i comparatively easy matter to provide for himself ; so that, taking all circumstances into consideration, it is not matter for astonishment that he became somewhat shiftless. When Judge Wellington died, Free Joe's troubles began. The Judge's negroes, including Luanda, went to his half-brother, a man named Caldeiwood, who was a hard master and a rough customer generally — a man of many eccentricities of mind and character. His neighbours had a habit of alluding to him as " Old Spite," and thfl name seemed to fit him io completely that he was known far and near as " Spite Calderwood. He probably enjoyed tho distinction the name gave him ; at any rate, he never rosonted it, and it was not often he missed an opportunity to show that lie deserved it. Calderwood's place was two or threo miles from the village of Hillsborough, and Free .Too \isited his wife twice a week, Wednesday and Saturday nights. One Sunday ho was sitting in front of Luanda's cabin when Calderwood happened to pass that way. "Howdy, rnarster?" said Free Joe, taking off his hat. ' ' Who are you ? ' ' exclaimed Calderwood abruptly, halting, and staring at the negro " I'm name' Joe, marster. I'm Lucindy's ole man." " Who do you belong to ? " " M.vrso John Evans is my'gjardeen, maistor." " Dig name — gyardeen. Show your pass." " Free Joe produced that document, and Calderwood read it aloud ilowly, as if he found if difficult to get at the meaning : "To whom it may concern : This ;•> too i ti/'i/ that the boy Joe Compton has my pcnni^ion to visit his vifc Lucinda" Tins was dated at Hillsborough, and Jsignod " John W. Kcani." " Calderwood read it twice and then looked at FieeJoo, elevating his eyebrows and showing his discoloured teeth. " Some mighty big words in that there. Eva in owns this place, I reckon. When's he comin' down to tako hold ? " '• Free Joe fumbled with his hat. Ho was badly frightened. " liucindy say she speck you wouldn't mm' my comin', long ez I behave, marster." " Calderwood tore the pass in pieces and flung it away. " Don't want no free niggers 'round here," ho exclaimed. " There's the big road. It'll carry you to town. "Don't let me catch you here no uioie. Now, mind what I tell yoqy'' " Free Joe presented a shabby spectacle as he moved oil with his littlo dog Dan slinking at his heels. It should be said in behalf of Dan, however, that his bristles wero up, and that ho looked back and growled. It may bo that the dog had the advantage of insigmficence, but it is difficult to conceive how a dog bold enough to raise his bristles under Calderwood's very eyes could be as insignificent as Free Joe. But both tho negio and his little dog seemed to give a new and moio dismal aspect to forlornness as they turned into tho road and went towards Hillsborough. After this incident Free Joe appeared to havo clearer ideas concerning his peculiar condition. He realised tho fact that though ho was free he was moro helpless than any slave. Having no owner, every man was his master. Ho know that ho was tho object of suspicion, and therefore all his slender resources (ah 1 how pitifully slender they wore ;) wero devoted to winning, not kindness and appreciation, but toleration ; all his efforts wero in tho direction of mitigating the circumstances that tended to make hi 3 condition so much worse than that of the negroes around him — negroes who had friends because they had masters. •So far as his own raco was concerned Free Joe was an exile. If the slaves secretly envied him his freedom (which is to bo doubted, coiuidenng his mise:.ablo condition), they openly despised him, and lost no opportunity to treat him with contumely. Perhaps this was in some measure tho result of the attitude which Free Joo chose to maintain towards them. No doubt his instinct taught him that to hold himself aloof from the slaves would bo to invite from the whites the toleration which he coveted, and withont which even hit miserable condition would be rcndeied more miserable still. His greatest trouble was the fact that ho was not allowed to visit his wife; but he soon found a way out of this difficulty. After ho had been ordered away from the Calderwood place, he wa« m the habit of pandering as far in that direction as prudence would permit. Near the Calderwood place, but not on Calderwood's land, lived ad old man named Micajah Staloy and his sister, Bockcy Staloy. These people were old and very poor. Old Micaja.li had a palsied arm and hand, but, m spite of this, he managed to earn a precarious In ing v>ith his turning-lathe. When he was a slave Free Joo would havo scorned these representatives of a class known as poor white trash, hut now ho found them sympathetic and helpful in various ways. Fioin the I back door of their cabin ho could hear the Calderwood negroes singing at night, and ho sometimes fancied he could distinguish Lucmda's shrill treble rising above tho other voices. A laige poplar giew in tho woods somo distance fiom the Staley cabin, and at the foot of this troe Free Joo would sit for hours, with his face turned towards Caldei wood's. His littlo Dog Dan would curl up in the leaves near by, and the two seemed to be as comfortable as possible. One Saturday afternoon Free Joe, sitting at tho foot of this friendly popular, fell asloop. How long he slept ho could not tell ; but when he awoke little Dan was licking his face, tho moon was shining brightly, and Lucinda, his wife, stood before him laughing. The dog, seeing that Froe Joe was asleep, had grown somewhat impatient, and he concluded to make an excursion to the Calderwood place on his own account. Lucinda was inclined to give the incident a twist in tho direction of superstition. " I 'uz sottin' down front er de lire-place," she said, " eookin' me tome meat, w'en all of a sudden I year sumpin at the do' — scratch, scratch. I tuck'n tun do meat over, en make out I aint year it. Bimeby it come dar 'gin— sciatch, scratch. I up en open do do,' I did, en, bless de Lord ! dai wus littlo Dan, en it look like ter mo dat his ribs done grow tergeer. I gin 'im somo bread, en den we'en he start out, I tuck'n and foller 'im, ka^e, I say ter myse'f , maybe my nigger man moight be somo'rs 'roun'. Dat are littlo dog got sense, mon. Free Joe laughed and dropped his hand lightly on Dan's head. For a long time after that he had no difficulty in seeing his wife. He had only to sit by the poplar-tree until littlo Dan could run and fetch her. But after a while the othei negroes discovered that Lucinda was meeting Joo in tho woods, and information of tho fact soon readied Calderwood's ears. Calderwood was what is called a man of action. Ho said nothing ; but ono day he put Lucinda fn his buggy and carried her to Macon, sixty miles away. Ho carried her to Macon and came back without her, and nobody in or around Hillsborough, or in that section, ever taw her again. For many a night after that Freo Joe sat in the woods and waited. Littlo Dan would run merrily oft and be gone a long time, but he always came back without Lacinda. This happened over and over again. Tho " willis-whistlers " would call and call, like phantom huntsmen wandering on a far-oil' shoie ; the screech-owl would shake and shiver in the depths of tho woods ; the nighthawki sweeping by on noiseless wings, would snap their beaks as though they enjoyed the huge jok< of which Free Joe and little Dan were the victims ; and the whip-poor-wills would cry to each othei through tho gloom. Each night seemod to be lonelier than tho preceding, but Fieo Joo's patience was proof against loneliness. Thero came a time however, when little Dan refilled to go aftei Lucinda. When Free Joe motioned him in th< direction of the Calderwood place, he would simplj

novo about unoasily and whine ; then he would ;url np in tho leaves and mako himself conifoitiblo. Ono night, instead of going to the poplar-tieo, to wait for Lucinda, Fiee Joo went to Staloy's :abin, and, in order to mako his welcome good, as lio expressed it, hoeiirted with him an armful £>i fat-pino splinters. Miss Becky Staley had a gie»t reputation m those pai ts as a fortune-teller., and the school-gnls, as well as older people, often tested her poweis in that direction, some in jest and some 111 earnest. Freo Joe placed hishumblo offering in tho chimney-corner, and then seated himself on tho steps, dropping his hat on tho ground outside. " Miss Becky," bo said preiently, " whar in do name er gracious you reckon Lucinda is ' " Well, tho Lord hep the nigger ! " exclaimed Miss Beckey, in a tone that seemed to reproduce, by somo curious agreement of sight with sound, her general aspect of peakedness. Well, the Lord hep the nigger I haint you been a-seein 1 her all this blessed time ? She's over at old Spite Caldeiwood's, if sho'a anywheies, I reckon." " No'm, dat I aint, Miss Becky. I aint seen Lucindy in now gwine on mighty nigh a mont'." " Well, it haint a-gwino to hurt you," said Miss Becky, somewhat sharply. "In my day an' time it wuz allers took to be a bad sign when niggers got to honeyin 1 'roun 1 an 1 gwme on." "Yessum,'' said Free Joo, choerfully assenting to the proposition— I*'1 *' Yessum, dats so, but mo an' my 010 'oman, we 'uz raiso tergeer, en day amt bin many days we'en we 'uz 'way f urn one 'nor like we is now." " May be she's up and took up wi some 'un else." said Micajah Staloy from tho corner. " You know what the bay in' is, ' New master, new nigger.' " "Dats so, dats de sayin', but taint wid my ole 'oman liko 'tis wid yuther niggers. Me en her wuz dcs natally raiso up tergeer. Dey's lots likelier niggers dan wat I is," said Free Joe, viewing his shabbinoss with a critical eye, " but I knows Lucmdy's mos' good ez I does little Dan dar — dat I doos." There was no reply to this, and Free Joe continned : "Miss Becky, I wish you please, ma'am, take on run you' kyards en see sump'n n'er 'bout Luciudy; kaze ef sho sick, I gwino dar. Day ken take mo up en gimme a stropping', but I gwino dar." Miss Becky got her cards, but first ihe picked up a cup, in the bottom of which were lome coffeegrounds. These she whirled slowly round and round, ending finally by tinning the cup upside down on tho hearth and allowing it to lemam in that position. " I'll tuin tho cup first," said Miss Becky, " and then I'll run tho cards and sco what they say." As sho shuffled tho cards the fire on the hearth burned low, and in its fitful light tho groy-haired, thin-featured woman seomed to deseive the weird leputation which rumor and gossip had given her. She shuffled the cards for some moments, gazing intently in the dying fire ; then, throwing a piece of pine on the coals, sho made three divisions of the pack, disposing them about in her lap. Then she took the first pile ran the cards slowly through her fingois, and studied them carefully. To the first sho added the second pile. The study of these was evidontly not satisfactory. Sho said nothing, but frowned heavily ; and the frown deepened as she added the rest of the cards until the entire fifty-two had passed in review before her. Though she frowned, sho socmed to be deeply interested. Without changing tho relative position of the cards sho ran them all over again. Then sho thiew a laiger piece of pine on tho fire, shuttled tho cards afrosh, divided them into threo piles, and subjected thom^to tho samo careful and critical examination. " I can't tell tho day when I've seed tho caids run this a-way," she said after a while. " What is an' what aint, I'll never tell you ; but I know what tho cards sc/ " " Wat does dey siy, Miss Becky ° " tho negro inqtiued, in a tono the solemnity of which was heightened by its eagerness. " They er runnin' quare. Those here that I'm lookin 1 at," said Miss Becky, " they stan for tho past. Them there, they er tho piesont ; and the t 'others, they er the future Here's * bundle," — tapping the ace of clubs with her # thumb, — " and here's a journoy as plain as tho nose on a man's face. Here's Lucinda " " Whir she, Miss Becky ? " " Here sho is— the queen of spades." Free Joe grinned. The idea seemed to ploaso him immensely. " Well, well, well ! " heoxclaimod. "Ef dat don't beat my time ! De queen er spades ! W'en Lucindy year dat hit'll tickls 'er, sho' ! " Miss Becky continued to run tho cards back and forth through her fingers. " Here's a bundle an' a journey, and here's Luanda. An' here's old Spite Calderwood." Sho held the cards toward the nogro and touched the king of clubs. "De Lord hop my soul ! " exclaimed Fieo Joo with a chuckle. "Do favor's dar. Yesser, dats him 1 Wat do matter 'long wid all un urn, Miss Becky?" Tho old woman added the second pile of cards to the first, and then the third, still running them through her lingers slowly and critically. By this time tho piece of pine m the fire-place had mapped itself m a mantlo of flame, illuminating the cabin and throwing into strange relief tho ijgure of Miss Becky as she sat studying the cards. She frowned ominously at the cards and mumbled a few words to herself. Then she dropped her hands into her lay and gazed once more into tho fiio. Her shadow danced and capered on the wall and floor behind hor, as if, looking over her shoulder into the future, it could behold a rare spectacle After a wlnlo sho picked up tho cup that had been turned on tho hearth. Tho conee-grounds, shaken around, presented what seemed to be a most intneato map. Here's tho journey," laid Misfl Becky, presently ; ,' hero's tho big road, here's tho livers to cross, hero's tho bundle to tote." Sho paused and sighed. " They haint no namoa writ here, an'what it all moans I'll never tell you. Caiy, I wish you'd bo so good as to han' mo my pipe." " I haint no hand wi the kyards, said Cajy, as ho handed tho pipe, " but I reckon I can patch out youi misinfoimation, Becky, bekazo the other day, whiles I was a-finishin' up Miz/ers Perdue's roll-m'-pin, I hearn a ratthn' in tho road. I looked out, an' Spite Caldorwood was a-dnvm' by in his buggy, an' thai sot Lucinda by him. It'd 111-about drapt out er my mm." Free Joo sat on tho door-sill and fumbled, at his hat, flinging it from one hand to the other. " You aint see urn gwme back, is you, Mars Cajy ?" ho asked after wlnls. "Ef they went back by this road," said Mr Stajey with tho air of one who is accustomed to' weigh well his words, " it must 'a' bin cndium' of tho timo whiles I was asleep, bekaze I haint bin no furdei from my shop than to yon bod." Well, sir ! " oxclaimed freo Joo in an awed tono, which Mr Staloy seemed to regard as a tnbuto to his extraordinary powers of statement. " Fif it's my beliefs you want," continued the old man, " I'll pitch 'em at you fair and free. My beliefs is that Spite Calderwood is gone an' took Lucindy outen the country. Bloss youi heart and soul ! when Spite Caldorwood meets the Old Boy 111 the road they'll bo a tumble scullle. You mark what I tell you." Freo Joe, still fumbling with his hat, rose and leaned again tho door-facing. He scorned to bo embiirtssed. Presently he said : " I speck 1 better be gittin' 'long. Nox timo I sco Lucindy, I'm gwino toll 'er w'nt Misi Bui-Icy ■ay 'bout do queen er spadei — dat I is 1 Ef dat don't tickle 'or dey aint no nigger 'oman never bin tickle." Ho paused for a moment as though waiting for somo remark or comment — some confirmation of misfortune, or at the very least, somo endorsement of his suggestion that Lucinda would bo greatly pleased to know that she had figured as tho 4110011 of spade* ; but neither Miss Becky nor hor brother said anything. " Ono minnit ridin' in the buggy 'loiirshlo ci Mars Spite, en tho nex' highfalutin' 'roun' pi aym do queen of spado*. Mon, doze yer nigger gals gettin 1 up in the pictur'a — dey sholy is." With a brief " Good night, Miss Becky, Mars Ca]y," Froo Joe went out nito tho karkness, followed by little Dan. Ho made his way to the poplar, where Lucinda had been in the habit of meeting him, and sat down. He sat thoro a long timo ; he sat there until little Dan, growing ie3tless, trotted oft' in the direction, "of Calderwood's place. Dozing against the poplar, in tho giay dawn of tho morning, Free Joo heard Spite Caldorwood's fox-hounds in full cry a mile away. " Shoo t " oexclamcd, scratching hit head and l&ughing to himself, "dem ar dogs is dcs a-wtuni-in' dat old fox up." But it was Dan the hounds wore after, and the littlo dogcaiuo back no more. Froe Joo waited and waited until he grew tired of waiting. He went back the noxt night and waited, and for many nights there after. His waiting was 111 vain, and yot he never regarded it as vain. Caiclcss and shabby as ho was, Froo Joe wai thoughtful enoiißb to have his theory. Ho was convinced that little Dan had found Lucinda, and that somo night when the moon was shining brightly through the trees, the dog would rouco him from his dreamt; at he tat sleeping at the foot of the poplar tico, and he would opon his eyea and behold Lucinda standing over him, laughing merrily as of old ; aad thon, he thought what fun thoy woulu haveabout the queen of spader How many long nights Free Joo waited at the

foot of tho pophu-trec foi Lucinda and littlo Dan no one can ever know. Ho kept no account of them, and tliey wcio not recorded by Micnjnh Stilcy nor Miss Bcckv- Tho seusoni.in into summer (md then into full. Ono night he wont to tho Stfiley cabin, cut the two old people- an aimful of wood, and seated lumvlf on tho door steps, uiieie ho rested. Ho was alwnjb tlianl.fuK- and pioud, as it sooiMcd— when Miss Staley gave him a cup of coffee, which iho was sometimes thoughtful enough to do. Ho was especially thankful on this particular night. " Youer still laj in' oft for to striko up wi Lucuidv out thar in tho woods, I reckon," said Mieajah Stalov, smiling giimly. Tho situAtion was not without its humorout aspects. " Oh, doy er comin', Mars Cajy— dey er comiu', sho," Free Joo replied. " I boun" you doy'll conio, on wen thoy does come, I'll dcs take on fetch urn yor, whar you kin sco urn wid you own tyos, you on Miss Becky." " No," said Mr Staley, with a quick and emphatic gestuio of disapproval. " Don't ! Don't fetch 'em anywheres. Stay right wi 'm as long as may bo." Free Joe chuckled and slipped away into the night, while tha two eld people sat gazing in the fiie. Finally Micajah spoke : " Look at that nigger— look at 'm. He's pinebltnk as happy now as a killdeo by a mill-race. You can't 'fa/.e 'em. I'd in-about givo up my t'other hand of I could stan flat-footed an' grin at tioublo hko that there nigger." " Niggen is niggers," said Miss Becky, smiling grimly, '• an' you can't rub it out ; yit I lay I've seed a heap of whito people lots moaner'n Free Joo. Ho grins,— an; that's nigger,— but I've ketched hit under jaw a-tremblin' when Lucindy 1 s name as brung up. An' I toll you," «he went on, bridling up a little and ipeaking with almost fierce emphasis, " the Old Boy'f done sharpened his claws for Spite Calderwood. You'll sco it." Me, Rebecca ? " said Mr Staloy, hugging his palsied arm. "Me ? I hope not." "Well, you'll know it, then," said Miss Becky, laughing heartily at hor brother's look of alarm. Tho next morning Micajah Staley bad occasion to go into the woods after a piece af timber. He •aw Froe Joe iitting at the foot of the poplar, and tho sight vexed him lomewhat. " Git up from there," ho cried, •' an' go an am your liuin'. A mighty purty passi it's come to, when great big buck niggers can lio a-snorin' in tho woods all day, when t'other folks is got to bo up an' a-gwine. Git up from there ! " Receiving no respome, Mr Staley went to Free .Too and shook him by tho shoulder; but the negro made no reiponsa. He was dead. His hat was off, his head was bent, and a smile was on his faco. It was as if ho had bowed and smiled when death stood before him— bumble to the last. His clothes were ragged ; his hands were rough and callous ; his shoes wore literally tied together with strings ? ho was shabby m tho extreme. A p»tsor-by, glancing at him, could have no idea that such a humble creaturo bad been summoned as a witness before tho Loid God of Hosts.