“What’s this you were talking about, Cato?” asked Mr Talboys, looking sternly at the blacks, who stood trembling before him.
“Caesar cum just now, and say dat Cudjoe, with great number ob niggers, just come down from de mountains, and dey march dis way with muskets, and bayonets, and big swords, and spears, and swear dey kill all de whites dey cum across.”
I saw Mr Talboys start.
“How did you hear this, Caesar?” he asked.
“Please, massa, I out last night, to help bury Mammy Quacca, who die in de morning, when my brother Sambo cum in and say he almost caught by Cudjoe’s fellows, and hear dem swear dat dey cum to kill all de white people, and before long he tink dey cum dis way to Belmont.” (That was the name of Mr Talboys’ place.)
“Cudjoe! Who are you talking about? The fellow has been dead these thirty years or more,” said our host.
“Dey say him Cudjoe. Perhaps him come to life again,” answered Caesar, as if he fully believed such an event probable. “Or maybe him ‘Tree Fingered Jack.’”
“Three Fingered Jack” was a negro leader who about that time made himself notorious.
“Possibly some fellow has assumed the name of the old Maroon leader,” I observed.
Mr Talboys, after further questioning the blacks, again turned to us, and remarked, “I’m afraid there’s some truth in what these negroes say. At all events, it would be wise to be prepared.” He spoke in a cool tone, not a bit flustered.