 | CHAPTER VI. The wigwam and the cabin |  |
6. CHAPTER VI.
In the morning, strange to say, we found Scipio considerably
better, and in singularly good spirits. The medicaments of the
African, or more likely the pliant imagination of the patient himself,
had wrought a charm in his behalf; and instead of groaning
at every syllable, as he had done for several days before, he
now scarcely uttered a word that was not accompanied by a grin.
The magician seemed scarcely less pleased than his patient, particularly
when he informed us that he had not only obtained the
article the woman was sent to borrow, but that Gullah Sam had
been seen prowling, late at night, about the negro houses, without
daring, however, to venture nigh that of the invalid—a forbearance
which the necromancer gave us to understand, was entirely
involuntary, and in spite of the enemy's desire, who was baffled and
kept away by the spell contained in the ointment which he had
placed on the lintel, in our presence the evening before. Still,
half-ashamed of being even quiescent parties merely to this solemn
mummery, we were anxious to see the end of it, and our
African promised that he would do much towards relieving
Scipio from his enchantment, by the night of the same day. His
spells and fomentations had worked equally well, and Scipio was
not only more confident in mind, but more sleek and strong in
body. With his own hands, it appears, that the wizard had rubbed
down the back and shoulders of his patient with corn-shucks
steeped in the decoction he had made, and, what was a more
strange specific still, he had actually subjected Scipio to a smarter
punishment, with a stout hickory, than his master had given
him for many a year. This, the poor fellow not only bore
with Christian fortitude, but actually rejoiced in, imploring additional
strokes when the other ceased. We could very well understand
that Scipio deserved a whipping for laughing at an aged
man, because he fell into the water, but we failed to ascertain
from the taciturn wizard, that this was the rationale of an application
over, Scipio was again put to bed, a green twig hung over the
door of his cabin within, while the unctuous plaster was renewed
freshly on the outside. The African then repeated certain uncouth
sounds over the patient, bade him shut his eyes and go to
sleep, in order to be in readiness and go into the fields by the
time the sun was turning for the west.
“What,” exclaimed Mr. Carrington, “do you think him able
to go into the field to-day? He is very weak; he has taken little
nourishment for several days.”
“He mus' able,” returned the imperative African; “he 'trong
'nough. He mus' able—he hab for carry gun.”
With these words the wizard left us without deigning any explanation
of his future purposes, and, taking his way towards the
swamp, he was soon lost to our eyes in the mighty depth of its
shrouding recesses.
When he returned, which was not till noon, he came at once
to the mansion-house, without seeking his patient, and entering
the hall where the family was all assembled, he challenged our
attention as well by his appearance as by his words. He had,
it would seem, employed himself in arranging his own appearance
while in the swamp; perhaps, taking one of its thousand lakes or
ponds for his mirror. His woolly hair, which was very long,
was plaited carefully up, so that the ends stuck out from his
brow, as pertly and pointedly as the tails of pigs, suddenly
aroused to a show of delightful consciousness on discovering a
forgotten corn-heap. Perhaps that sort of tobacco, known by the
attractive and characteristic title of “pigtail,” would be the most
fitting to convey to the mind of the reader the peculiar form of
plait which the wizard had adopted for his hair. This mode of
disposing of his matted mop, served to display the tattooed and
strange figures upon his temples,—the certain signs, as he assured
us, of princely rank in his native country. He carried a long
wand in his hand, freshly cut and peeled, at one end of which he
had tied a small hempen cord. The skin of the wand was plaited
round his own neck. In a large leaf he brought with him a
small portion of some stuff which he seemed to preserve very
carefully, but which appeared to us to be nothing more than coarse
he obtained from the mistress of the house, and which he stirred
together in our presence until the salt had been lost to the eye in
the sand or gravel, or whatever might have been the article which
he had brought with him. This done, he drew the shot from both
barrels of the gun, and in its place, deposited the mixture which
he had thus prepared.
“Buckrah will come 'long now. Scipio guine looka for de
crow.”
Such were his words, which he did not wait to hear answered
or disputed, but taking the gun, he led the way towards
the wigwam of Scipio. Our anxiety to see the conclusion of
the adventure, did not suffer us to lose any time in following him.
To our surprise, we found Scipio dressed and up; ready, and it
would seem perfectly able, to undertake what the African assigned
him. The gun was placed in his hands, and he was told to
take his way to the cornfield as usual, and proceed to work. He
was also informed by the wizard, with a confidence that surprised
us, that the lazy crow would be sure to be there as usual; and
he was desired to get as close as he could, and take good aim at
his head in shooting him.
“You sure for hit um, brudder,” said the African; “so, don't
'tan too long for look. Jis' you git close, take you sight, and gib
um bot' barrel. But fuss, 'fore you go, I mus' do someting wid
you eye.”
The plaster was taken from the door, as Scipio passed through
it, re-softened with the saliva of the wizard, who, with his finger,
described an arched line over each of the patient's eyes.
“You go 'long by you'sef now, brudder, and shoot de crow
when you see um. He's a waiting for you now, I 'spec'.”
We were about to follow Scipio to the field, but our African
kept us back; and leading the way to a little copse that divided
it from the swamp, he took us to its shelter, and required us to
remain with him out of sight of the field, until some report from
Scipio or his gun, should justify us in going forth.
| CHAPTER VI. The wigwam and the cabin | |