The hoarse laugh with which the “runaway” expressed his satisfaction sounded strangely on my ear.
“And you have run away from the plantation?”
“Jes so, mass’ Edward—nebber go back.” After a pause, he added, with increased emphasis, “Nebber go back ’live!”
As he uttered these words he raised his hand to his broad chest, at the same time throwing his body into an attitude of earnest determination.
I saw at once that I had mistaken the character of this man. I had had it from his enemies, the whites, who feared him. With all the ferocity of expression that characterised his features, there was evidently something noble in his heart. He had been flogged for refusing to flog a fellow-slave. He had resented the punishment, and struck down his brutal oppressor. By so doing he had risked a far more terrible punishment—even life itself!
It required courage to do all this. A spirit of liberty alone could have inspired him with that courage—the same spirit which impelled the Swiss patriot to strike down the cap of Gessler.
As the negro stood with his thick muscular fingers spread over his brawny chest, with form erect, with head thrown back, and eyes fixed in stern resolve, I was impressed with an air of grandeur about him, and could not help thinking that in the black form before me, scantily clad in coarse cotton, there was the soul and spirit of a man!