The Babes in the Basket; or, Daph and Her Charge

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.