<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN>
<h1>WATCH AND WAIT;</h1>
<h4> OR,</h4>
<h3>THE YOUNG FUGITIVES.</h3>
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<h2>PREFACE.</h2>
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<p>However much the author of "<span class="smcap">Watch and Wait</span>" may sympathize with
that portion of the population of our country to which the principal
characters of the story belong, he is forced to acknowledge that his
book was not written in the interests of the anti-slavery cause. His
young friends require stirring incidents of him, and the inviting field
of adventure presented by the topic he has chosen was the moving spring
which brought the work into existence; and if the story shall kindle any
new emotion of sympathy for the oppressed and enslaved, it will have
more than answered the purpose for which it was intended, and the writer
will be all the more thankful for this happy influence.</p>
<p>As a story of exciting adventure, the writer hopes it will satisfy all
his young readers; that they will love the gentle Lily, respect the
manly independence of Dan, and smile at the oddities of Cyd; and that
the book will confirm and <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</SPAN></span>increase their love of liberty and their
hatred of tyranny. If the young fugitives were resolute, even to
shedding the blood of the slave-hunter, they had forgiving and Christian
hearts, in which there was neither malice nor revenge; and in this
respect, if in no other, they are worthy exemplars for the young and the
old.</p>
<p>With this explanation, I give the third volume of the Woodville Stories
into the hands of my young friends, bespeaking for it the same favor
which has been bestowed upon its predecessors.</p>
<p class="right">WILLIAM T. ADAMS.</p>
<p style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><span class="smcap">Dorchester</span>, August 15, 1864.</p>
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<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2>
<h2>THE PLANTATION OF REDLAWN.</h2>
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<p>One soft summer evening, when Woodville was crowned with the glory and
beauty of the joyous season, three strangers presented themselves before
the Grant family, and asked for counsel and assistance. The party
consisted of two boys and a girl, and they belonged to that people which
the traditions of the past have made the "despised race;" but the girl
was whiter and fairer than many a proud belle who would have scorned her
in any other capacity than that of a servant; <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</SPAN></span>and one of the boys was
very nearly white, while the other was as black as ebony undefiled. They
were fugitives and wanderers from the far south-west; and the story
which they told to Mr. Grant and his happy family will form the
substance of this volume.</p>
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<p>The plantation of Colonel Baylie Raybone was situated on one of the
numerous bayous which form a complete network of water communications in
the western part of the parish of Iberville, in the State of Louisiana.
The "colonel," whose military title was only a courtesy accorded to his
distinguished position, was a man of immense possessions, and
consequently of large influence. His acres and his negroes were numbered
by thousands, and he was largely engaged in growing sugar and rice. The
estate on which he resided went by the name of Redlawn. His mansion was
palatial in its dimensions, and was furnished in a style of regal
magnificence.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</SPAN></span>The region in which Redlawn was situated was a low country, subject to
inundation in the season of high water. The sugar plantation was located
on a belt of land not more than a mile in width, upon the border of the
bayou, which, contrary to the usual law, was higher ground than portions
farther from the river. The lower lands were used for the culture of
rice, which, our young readers know, must be submerged during a part of
the year.</p>
<p>A short distance from the splendid mansion of the princely planter was a
large village of negro huts, where the "people" of the estate resided.
As Colonel Raybone was a liberal and progressive man, the houses of the
negroes were far superior to those found upon many of the plantations of
the South. They were well built, neatly white-washed, and no doubt the
negroes who dwelt in them regarded it as a fortunate circumstance that
they were the slaves of Colonel Raybone.</p>
<p>Along the front of the negro hamlet, and of the mansion house, ran the
public highway, while in the rear of them, and at a distance of nearly
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</SPAN></span>half a mile, was the bayou, which was generally called the "Crosscut,"
because it joined two larger rivers. At the foot of a gravel walk,
leading from the mansion down to the bayou, was a pier, upon which was
built a tasty summer house, after the style of a Chinese pagoda, so that
the planter and his family could enjoy the soft breezes that swept over
the surface of the stream. There they spent many of their summer
evenings; and truly it was a delightful place.</p>
<p>Fastened to the pier were several small boats, including a light wherry,
and a four-oar race boat. Moored in the middle of the stream lay a large
sail boat, in which the planter often made long trips for pleasure; for,
by the network of rivers with which the bayou was connected, he could
explore a vast tract of country, and even reach the Red River on the
north, and the Gulf of Mexico on the south.</p>
<p>The family that dwelt in the "great house," as the negroes called the
mansion, were Colonel Raybone, his wife, and two children. The planter
himself was a genial, pleasant man, when nothing <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</SPAN></span>disturbed him; but he
was quick and impulsive, and exacted the homage due to his position from
his inferiors. Mrs. Raybone was an easy, indolent woman, who would
submit to injury rather than endure the effort required to redress it.</p>
<p>Master Archibald Raybone, his older child, was a youth of fifteen, and
was as much like his father as Miss Edith, a young lady of fourteen, was
like her mother. Archy, as he was familiarly called by black and white,
was fond of having his own way; and, as long as it did not conflict with
that of his imperious father, he was indulged to the fullest extent.
Miss Edith was fond of repose, and could not even speak French or play
upon the piano, because it was too much trouble to obtain these
accomplishments, though private tutors had labored sedulously for
several years to meet the exigencies of the case.</p>
<p>Besides those who were properly members of the family, there was a small
army of servants, ranging from the purest white to the blackest black;
all slaves, of course. There were cooks, laundresses, waiters, valets,
lackeys, coachmen, <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</SPAN></span>body-servants, and lady's-maids; every kind of
servitor which ingenuity could devise or luxury demand. Master Archy had
a body-servant, and Miss Edith had a lady's-maid. As these individuals
are important personages in our story, we must give our young friends a
better idea of who and what they were.</p>
<p>The body-servant of the son and heir was a youth of sixteen. He was
nearly white, his complexion being very slightly tinted with the yellow
hue of the mulatto. He was tall of his age, and exceedingly well formed.
As the servant and companion of Master Archy, of course it was necessary
that he should make a good appearance; and he was always well dressed,
and managed his apparel with singularly good taste and skill. His name
was Daniel; but his graceful form and excellent taste in dress had
caused his name to be corrupted from "Dan," by which short appellative
he had formerly been called, into "Dandy," and this was now the only
name by which he was known on the plantation.</p>
<p>Dandy was a boy of good parts. He could read and write, and had a better
understanding of the <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</SPAN></span>ordinary branches of knowledge than his young
master, for Archy was always attended by his body-servant when engaged
in his studies. Though no efforts had been wasted upon the "chattel," he
had learned the lessons better than the son and heir, upon whose
education a small fortune had been lavished. Dandy was quick to see and
comprehend what Archy had to have explained to him over and over again.
Though the slave was prudent enough to conceal his attainments, he was
wise enough to profit by the opportunities which were afforded to him.
In the solitude of his chamber, while his young master slept, he
diligently used the books he had privately secured for study. And the
instructions of the tutor were not wasted upon him, though he often
seemed to be asleep during the lessons. He listened and remembered; he
pondered and reasoned.</p>
<p>Dandy's mother was dead. She had been a house servant of Colonel
Raybone. It was said that she had become refractory, and had been sold
in New Orleans; but the son had only a faint remembrance of her. Of his
father he knew nothing. Though he had often asked about him, he could
obtain no <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</SPAN></span>information. If the people in the house knew any thing of
him, they would not tell the inquisitive son. Such was Dandy, the
body-servant of Master Archy. He led an easy life, having no other
occupation than that of pleasing the lordly young heir of Redlawn.</p>
<p>Miss Edith's lady's-maid was whiter and fairer than her young mistress.
The keenest observer could detect no negro characteristic in her looks
or her manner. So fair and white was she, that her mistress had given
her the name of "Lily." And yet she was a slave, and that which made her
fascinating to the eye had given her a value which could be estimated
only in thousands of dollars. Of her father and mother Lily knew
nothing. One of her companions in bondage told her that she had been
bought, when a child, on board of a Red River steamboat. That was all
she knew, and all she ever was to know. Those who are familiar with the
slave system of the South can surmise who and what she was.</p>
<p>Miss Edith was indolent, but she was sour and petulant, and poor Lily's
daily life was not a bed of roses. All day long she had to stand by her
exacting young mistress, obey her slightest gesture, and humor <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</SPAN></span>all her
whims. Though she was highly valued as a piece of property by her owner,
she had only one real friend in the wide world—a cold, desolate, and
dreary world to her, though her lot was cast in the midst of the sweet
flowers and bright skies of the sunny south—only one friend, and that
was Dandy. He knew how hard it was to indulge all the caprices of a
wayward child; how hard it was to be spurned and insulted by one who was
his inferior in mind and heart.</p>
<p>Dandy had another friend, though the richest treasures of his friendship
were bestowed upon the fair and gentle Lily. A wild, rollicking,
careless piece of ebony, a pure negro, was his other friend. He was a
stable boy, and one of the crew who pulled the four-oar race boat, when
Master Archy chose to indulge in an excursion upon the water. His
master, who in his early years had made the acquaintance of the
classics, had facetiously named him Thucydides—a long, hard word, which
no negro would attempt to utter, and which the white folks were too
indolent to manage. The name, therefore, had been suitably contracted,
and this grinning <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</SPAN></span>essence of fun and frolic was called "Cyd"—with no
reference, however, to the distinguished character of Spanish history.
But Cyd was a character himself, and had no need to borrow any of the
lustre of Spain or Greece. He shone upon his own account.</p>
<p>With this introduction to Redlawn, and those who lived there, our
readers are prepared to embark with us in the story of the young
fugitives.</p>
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