The morning of the departure dawned with an overcast sky, the prophecyof winter in the gray clouds that hung over the surface of the river. Achill mist, damp and penetrating, crept up the heights from the water\'sedge and veiled the city from view.
Something in the raw air bruised afresh the thought of goodbye to theSouthland. The threat of cold in Virginia meant the piling of ice andsnow in the North. Not a sparrow chirped in the hedges. Only a crow,passing high in the dull sky, called his defiance of wind and weather.
The Colonel made his final round of inspection to see that his peoplewere provided against the winter. Behind each servant\'s cottage, a hugepile of wood was stacked. The roofs were in perfect order. The chimneyswere pouring columns of smoke. It hung low at first but rolled away atthe touch of the breeze from the North.
With Mrs. Lee he visited the aged and the sick. The thing that broughtthe smile to each withered mouth was the assurance of their love andcare always.
Among the servants Sam held the center of interest. The wonderful,doubtful, yet fascinating thing had come to him. He had been set free.
In each heart was the wish and with it fear of the future. The youngerones laughed and frankly envied him. The older ones wagged their headsdoubtfully.
Old Ben expressed the best feelings of the wiser as he took Sam\'s handfor a fatherly word. He had finished the packing in an old cowhide trunkwhich Custis had given him.
"We\'s all gwine ter watch ye, boy, wid good wishes in our hearts and awhole lot er misgivin\'s a playin\' roun\' in our min\'.""Don\'t yer worry \'bout me, Uncle Ben. I\'se all right."He paused and whispered.
"Ye didn\'t know dat Marse Robert done gimme five hundred dollars ingol\'--did ye?""Five hundred dollars in gol\'!" Ben gasped.
Sam drew the shining yellow eagles from the bag in his pocket andjingled them before the old man\'s eyes.
"Dar it is."Ben touched it reverently.
"Praise God fer de good folks He give us.""I\'se er proud nigger, I is. I\'se sorry fur dem dat b\'longs to po\'
folks."Ben looked at him benignly.
"Don\'t you be too proud, boy. You\'se powerful young and foolish. Yer desbarely got sense enough ter git outen a shower er rain. Dat money ain\'tgwine ter las yer always.""No, but man, des watch my smoke when I git up North. Yer hear frum me,yer will.""I hopes I hear de right news."Sam replaced his coin with a touch of authority in possession.
"Don\'t yer worry \'bout me no mo\'. I\'se a free man now an\' I gwine tercome into de Kingdom."The last important task done by the Colonel before taking the train forNew York was the delivery to his lawyers of instructions for the removalof the Doyles and the placing in his hands sufficient funds for theirjourney.
He spent a day in Washington investigating the chances of the newsettler securing a quarter section of land in Miami County, Kansas,the survey of which had been completed. He selected this County on theMissouri border to please Mrs. Doyle. She wished to live as near theline of old Virginia\'s climate as possible and in a country with trees.
Doyle promised to lose no time in disposing of his goods. The father,mother, three sons and two little girls were at Arlington to bid theColonel and his family goodbye. They were not a demonstrative people buttheir affection for their neighbor and friend could not be mistaken.
The mother\'s eyes followed him with no attempt to hide her tears. Shewiped them away with her handkerchief. And went right on crying andwiping them again. The boys were too shy to press forward in the crowdand grasp the Colonel\'s hand.
On arrival in New York the party stopped at the new Hotel Astor onBroadway. Colonel Lee had promised to spend a day at Fort Hamilton,his old command. But it was inconvenient to make the trip until thefollowing morning.
Besides, he had important business to do for Sam. He had sent two of theservants, whom he had emancipated, to Liberia, and he planned the samejourney for Sam. He engaged a reservation for him on a steamer sailingfor Africa, and returned to the hotel at nine o\'clock ready to leave forFort Hamilton.
He was compelled to wait for Sam\'s return from the boarding house forcolored people on Water Street where he had been sent by the proprietorof the Astor. Not even negro servants were quartered in a first-classhotel in New York or any other Northern city.
Sam arrived at half-past nine, and the Colonel strolled down Broadwaywith him to the little park at Bowling Green. He found a seat and badeSam sit down beside him.
The boy watched the expression on his old master\'s face with dread. Hehad a pretty clear idea what this interview was to be about and he hadmade up his mind on the answer. His uncle, who had been freed five yearsbefore, had written him a glowing letter about Liberia.
He dreaded the subject.
"You know, of course, Sam," the Colonel began, "that your life is now inyour own hands and that I can only advise you as a friend.""An\' I sho\'s glad ter have ye he\'p me, Marse Robert.""I\'m going to give you the best advice I can. I\'m going to advise you todo exactly what I would do if I were in your place.""Yassah.""If I were you, Sam, I wouldn\'t stay in this country. I\'d go back tothe land of my black fathers, to its tropic suns and rich soil. You cannever be a full-grown man here. The North won\'t have you as such. Thehotel wouldn\'t let you sleep under its roof, in spite of my protest thatyou were my body-servant. In the South the old shadow of your birth willbe with you. If you wish to lift up your head and be a man it can\'t behere. No matter what comes in the future. If every black man, woman andchild were set free to-morrow, there are not enough negroes to livealone. The white man will never make you his equal in the world he isbuilding. I\'ve secured your passage to Liberia and I will pay for itwithout touching the money which I gave you. What do you think of it?"Sam scratched his head and looked away embarrassed. He spoke timidly atfirst, but with growing assurance.
"I\'se powerful \'fraid dat Liberia\'s a long way frum home, Marse Robert.""It is. But if you wish to be a full-grown man, it\'s your chance to-day.
It will be the one chance of your people in the future as well. Can youmake up your mind to face the loneliness and build your home underyour own vine and fig tree? There you can look every man in the face,conscious that you\'re as good as he is and that the world is yours.""I\'se feared I ain\'t got de spunk, Marse Robert.""The gold in your pocket will build you a house on public lands. Youknow how to farm. Africa has a great future. You\'ve seen our life. We\'vetaught you to work, to laugh, to play, to worship God, to love your homeand your people. You\'re only twenty years old. I envy you the wealth ofyouth. I\'ve reached the hilltop of life. Your way is still upward fora quarter of a century. It\'s the morning of life, boy, and a new worldcalls you. Will you hear it and go?""I\'se skeered, Marse Robert," Sam persisted, shaking his head gravely.
Lee saw the hopelessness of his task and changed his point of appeal.
"What do you think of doing?""Who, me?""Who else? I can\'t think for you any longer.""Oh, I\'ll be all right, sah. I foun\' er lot er good colored friends inde bordin\' house las\' night. Wid dat five hundred dollars, I be livin\'
in clover here, sah, sho. I done talk wid a feller \'bout goin\' inbusiness.""What line of business?""He gwine ter sho me ter-day, sah.""You don\'t think you might change your mind about Liberia?""Na sah. I don\'t like my uncle dat\'s ober dar, nohow.""Then I can\'t help you any more, Sam?""Na sah, Marse Robert. Y\'u been de bes\' master any nigger eber had indis worl\' an\' I ain\'t nebber gwine ter fergit dat. When I feels dem fivehundred dollars in my pocket I des swells up lak I gwine ter bust. I\'sedat proud o\' myse\'f an\' my ole marster dat gimme a start. Lordee, sah,hit\'s des gwine ter be fun fer me ter git long an\' I mak\' my fortuneright here. Ye see ef I don\'t--"Lee smiled indulgently.
"Watch out you don\'t lose the little one I gave you.""Yassah, I got hit all sewed up in my close."The old master saw that further argument would be useless. He rosewondering if his act of emancipation were not an act of cowardice--theshirking of responsibility for the boy\'s life. His mouth closed firmly.
That was just the point about the institution of Slavery. No suchresponsibility should be placed on any man\'s shoulders.
Sam insisted on ministering to the wants of the family until he saw themsafely on the boat for West Point. He waved each member a long goodbye.
And then hurried to his new chum at the boarding house on Water Street.
This dusky friend had won Sam\'s confidence by his genial ways on thefirst night of their acquaintance. He had learned that Sam had just beenfreed. That this was his first trip to New York though he spoke withcareless ease of his knowledge of Washington.
But the most important fact revealed was that he had lately come intomoney through the generosity of his former master. The sable New Yorkerevinced no curiosity about the amount.
After four days of joy he waked from a sickening stupor. He foundhimself lying in a filthy alley at dawn, bareheaded, his coat torn upthe back, every dollar gone and his friend nowhere to be found.
Colonel Lee had given him the address of three clergymen and told him tocall on them for help if he had any trouble. He looked everywhere forthese cards. They couldn\'t be found. He had been so cocksure of himselfhe had lost them. He couldn\'t make up his mind to stoop to blackingboots and cleaning spittoons. He had always lived with aristocrats. Hefelt himself one to his finger tips.
There was but one thing he could do that seemed to be needed up here.
He could handle tobacco. He could stem the leaf. He had learned thatat Arlington in helping Ben superintend the curing of the weed for theservants\' use.
He made the rounds of the factories only to find that the larger partof this work was done in tenement homes. He spent a day finding one ofthese workshops.
They offered to take him in as a boarder and give him sixty cents a day.
He could have a pallet beside the six children in the other room and aplace to put his trunk. Sixty cents a day would pay his room rent andgive him barely enough food to keep body and soul together.
He hurried back to............