She had commenced the second verse, “John saw,” when suddenly her jaws fell, and springing up she exclaimed: “Jesus marster! what’s dat? Look! Everybody! Here comes er gunboat, en Riley’s house is er fire. Don’t yer see it bu’nin! Run, boy, run, en call Miss Vine! Tell Mis Lizer! Go dis minit an’ let ’em all know, I tell yer!” “Set right down, set down, Aunt Becky! ’tain’t none er my business to tell nuthin’. Set right down, ’oman, en let dem white folks ’lone,” and the man seized her and pushed her with all his force towards the chair.
The woman turned fiercely upon him and planted a blow on the side of his head which sent him headlong on the floor. “Look er-heah, boy, who is you foolin’ wid, anyhow? You think yerself a man, does yer when yous er born fool! I let you know it tuck de tightest overseer ole marster ever had on dis plantashun to rule me. No nigger like you better try ter tackle Becky. I’ll double you up an fling you outer dis winder in no time. You neenter tell nuthin. I’ll go tell ’em—I’ll go ef Gawd spars me to git dar. I nussed Miss Vine; dat gal used to suck dese yere”—and Becky eloquently placed her hands on her round ebony bosom, as she broke into a full run from the kitchen door. She entered the dining-room crying out in breathless, agitated tones, “Look heah, people, thar’s a big gunboat er comin’ up de river en Riley’s house is er-fire!”
In an instant confusion and utter consternation reigned. “Good God!” exclaimed Vine, “and here’s all mother’s silver! Like a fool I dug it up out of the garden this morning. Here, Aunt Becky, help me gather it up.” The woman soon rattled a pile of spoons and forks into a dishpan. “No, no,” screamed Vine, “don’t wash them, let me hide them, quick, somewhere!”
The officers and soldiers had disappeared, and in ten minutes the only male creatures to be seen on the place were Monroe and the baby. The man was in fine spirits while engaged in assisting the young ladies to mount their horses. “Take kere, Miss Em’ly, dis is a skittish little creole pony, and you rides wid too loose a rein.” To another he said, “’Fore Gawd, Miss Jinnie, I hates to see a white lady like you a-riden’ uv er mule, I does dat, en er man’s saddle too! Eh, eh!” “You never mind,” the girl replied; “my pony and both our side-saddles were carried off by the last raid from Morganza, and I had no choice but to use my brother’s saddle and this mule or stay at home. Cut me a good stick, Monroe, and I shall get along.” “Well, you’ll need a stick,” said Monroe, “wid dat lazy ole mule, ef you ’spects to see home dis night.”
One of the horses jerked away every time he was led up to the steps, but the man was patient with him, only remarking, “Dis hoss been brutalized ’bout de head by somebody ’twel he’s a plum fool. Jump quick, Miss Nelly, while um er holdin’ him fer ye.” The girl sprang to her saddle, adjusted her dress, and directed the man to spread a folded shawl for her sister to ride behind. “Well, well,” said he, “dis beats de bugs, to see white ladies what’s used to rollin’ ’long in der carriages a-ridin’ double like dis!” “We don’t care,” said they, as the party started off gaily down the road.
After the last departure Monroe went to talk over the eventful day with Becky. No allusion was made to such a small matter as a passing blow, and the man sat down by the fire grinning with real enjoyment.
“Didn’t dem white folks scatter quick? I tell yer, Aunt Becky, it done me good all over to see ’em so flustrated,” and he burst into a loud guffaw. “When sumpin don’ go to suit de Templetons, dey’ll paw dirt, dey’ll do it, every time, frum ole marster down to de baby one. Whut did Miss Vine say about it?”
“Well,” said Becky, “lemme tell yer ’bout Miss Vine; de fust thing she done arter I bounced in en tole de news—she gathered up de spoons en forks, en dem silver tumblers, en sich, belonging to ole Mis’, en den she look ’roun’ en seed de men wus all gone; den she clinched her teeth, en des doubled up her fis’, she did, en shuck it t’wards dat big ole boat es she come puffin’ en blowin’ up de river, wid de great big cannons a-sticken outen her sides, en des a-swarmin’ all over wid de blue-coats, en says she: ‘Dern you infernal black souls! I wish to Gawd every one of you was drownded in de bottom of de river.’”
“Lord!” said Monroe, catching his breath, “now didn’t she cuss?”
“Yes, sirree! she did dat; en so would you, en me,” said Becky.