“Blessings rest on your head, my brave man!” exclaimed my mother, addressing the black who had saved me, as she got out of the waggon and rushed to where I lay; then kneeling down, she gazed anxiously into my face.
I had suffered less I believe from immersion than from fear, for I had not for a moment lost my consciousness, nor had I swallowed much water.
“Berry glad to save de little boy, him all right now,” answered the black.
“Yes, I believe I’m all right now. Thank you, thank you,” I said, getting up.
My mother threw her arms round my neck and burst into tears.
My father wrung the hand of the black, who had hurried back to help him rearrange the harness of the horses. “You have saved the lives of us all, my gallant friend; I thank you from my heart, and should wish to show you my gratitude by any means in my power.”
“Oh, massa, him one poor black slave,” answered the negro, astonished at being so spoken to by a white man; “him berry glad to save de little boy. Now, massa, you all berry wet, want get dry clo’ or catch cold an’ die ob de fever.”
“Indeed I am most anxious to get my wife and child under the shelter of some roof;” answered my father. “Can you guide us to the nearest house where we can obtain what we require?”
The black thought a moment, and then answered—
“De plantation where I slave not far off; Massa Bracher not at home—better ’way perhaps, he not always in berry good temper, but de housekeeper, Mammy Coe, she take care ob de lady and de little boy. Yes, we will go dare dough de oberseer make me back feel de lash ’cos I go back without carry de message I was sent on. It can wait, no great ting.”