Quashie started up, and accompanied the young gentleman without further questioning.
Glad as Mr Pemberton was to get his son and young friends back again, he was made very anxious on hearing of the state of affairs at Bellevue.
“The rebels are evidently bent on taking the place, and from the desperate character I hear of Cudjoe, I fear that he will not give up the enterprise as long as he has a hope of success,” said Mr Pemberton.
The matter was talked over by himself and the other planters. Before any desperate enterprise was undertaken to afford relief to their friends, it was important to ascertain how much they required it.
“I will try what can be done by means of Quashie, the boy Jack just now brought in,” said Mr Pemberton. “He would make his way where a man would fail; and as his mother is a slave of the Twiggs, he can, I should think, be trusted, for I will let him understand she will be benefited as well as her master and mistress.”
“A good idea, perhaps. Not that I fancy these slaves have any natural affection,” observed one of the party.
“I do not agree with you there, my friend,” observed Mr Pemberton. “Both fathers and mothers are very fond of their children in their way; and I will answer for it that Quashie will manage to carry any message we may send, and bring back an answer safely.”
Quashie being called, he without hesitation undertook to do what was required of him. He begged only that he might take his own time and mode of proceeding, and grinned when some one remarked that he might be caught by the rebels.
“Me git in and me come back, neber fear,” he answered.
The only question was how to send a note. Mrs Pemberton proposed writing what was necessary, and, the paper being rolled up tightly and covered with black stuff, to conceal it among his thick crop of woolly hair. “Were he caught, the rebels might search him thoroughly and not discover it in the way that I will manage,” she said.