As I have said, I could not see the sufferer at first. A row of bodies was interposed between him and me. The negroes, however, seeing me ride up, eagerly opened their ranks and fell back a pace, as if desiring I should be a witness to what was going forward. They all knew me, and all had some impression that I sympathised with their unfortunate race.
This opening gave me a full view of the horrid spectacle, disclosing a group that made me start in the saddle. Under the torture was the victim—a man of sable hue. Close by him, a large mulatto woman and a young girl of the same complexion—mother and daughter—stood folded in each other’s arms, both weeping bitterly. I could hear their sobs and ejaculations, even at the distance of a score of yards, and above the plashing sound of the falling water. I recognised at a glance who these were—they were the little Chloe and her mother!
Quick as lightning my eyes were directed towards the sufferer. The water, as it bounded from his crown, spread into a glassy sheet, that completely concealed his head, but the huge, fin-like, projecting ears told me who was the victim. It was Scipio!
Again his cry of agony pealed upon my ears, deep and prolonged, as though it issued from the innermost recesses of his soul!
I did not wait till that cry was ended. A fence of six rails separated me from the sufferer; but what of that? I did not hesitate a moment, but winding my horse round to give him the run, I headed him at the leap, and with a touch of the spur lifted him into the inclosure. I did not even stay to dismount, but galloping up to the platform, laid my whip across the naked shoulders of the Bambarra with all the force that lay in my arm. The astonished savage dropped the pump-handle as if it had been iron at a white heat; and leaping from the platform, ran off howling to his cabin!
Exclamations and loud murmurings of applause followed; but my horse, brought so suddenly to this exciting work, snorted and plunged, and it was some time before I could quiet him. While thus engaged, I observed that the exclamations were suddenly discontinued; and the murmurs of applause were succeeded by a dead, ominous silence! I could hear several of the negroes nearest me muttering some words of caution, as though meant for me; among others the cry of—
“De oberseer! de oberseer! Look out, mass’r! Dar he kum!”
At that moment an abominable oath, uttered in a loud voice, reached my ears. I looked in the direction whence it came. As I anticipated, it was the overseer.
He was just issuing from the back-door of his house, from a window of which he had been all the while a spectator of Scipio’s torture!
I had not come in contact with this person before; and I now saw approaching a man of fierce and brutal aspect, somewhat flashily dressed, and carrying in his hand a thick waggon-whip. I could see that his face was livid with rage, and that he was directing himself to attack me. I had no weapon but my riding-whip, and with this I prepared to receive his assault.