Through stained glass Read online

  CHAPTER XIV

  The next morning, as they were sitting, after their coffee and rolls, ata little iron table on the esplanade of the Sul Americano, Leightonsaid: "It takes a man five years to learn how to travel in a hurry andfifteen more to learn how not to hurry. You may consider that you'vebeen a traveler for twenty years." He stretched and yawned. "Let's takea walk, slowly."

  They started down the broad incline which, in long, descending zigzags,cut the cliff that divided lower town from upper. The closely laidcobblestones were slippery with age.

  "It took a thousand slaves a century to pave these streets," saidLeighton. "Do you know anything about this town, Bahia?"

  "It was once the capital of the empire," said Lewis.

  "Yes," said Leighton. "Capital of the empire, seat of learning, citadelof the church, last and greatest of the great slave-marts. That's ahistory. Never bother your mind about a man, a woman, or a town thathasn't got a history. They may be happy, but they're stupid."

  The principal street of the lower town was swarming with a strangemixture of humanity. Here and there hurried a foreigner in whites, hisflushed cheeks and nose flying the banner of John Barleycorn.

  Along the sidewalks passed leisurely the doctorated product of theuniversities--doctors of law, doctors of medicine, embryo doctors stillin the making--each swinging a light cane. Their black hats and cutawaycoats, in the fashion of a temperate clime, would have looked exoticwere it not for the serene dignity with which they were worn. With them,merchants lazed along, making a deal as they walked. Clerks, under theirmasters' eyes, hurried hither and thither.

  These were all white or near-white. The middle of the street, which heldthe great throng, was black. Slaves with nothing on but a loin-clothstaggered under two bags of coffee or under a single monster sack ofcocoa. Their sweating torsos gleamed where the slanting sun struck them.Other slaves bore other burdens: a basket of chickens or a bundle ofsugar-cane on the way to market; a case of goods headed for the storesof some importer; now and then a sedan-chair, with curtains drawn; andfinally a piano, unboxed, on a pilgrimage.

  The piano came up the middle of the street borne on the heads of sixsinging negroes. For a hundred yards they would carry it at a shufflingtrot, their bare feet keeping time to their music, then they would setit down and, clapping their hands and still singing, do a shuffle danceabout it. This was the shanty of piano-movers. No other slave dared singit. It was the badge of a guild.

  "D'you hear that?" asked Leighton, nodding his head. "That's a shanty.They're singing to keep step."

  In shady nooks and corners and in the cool, wide doorways sat stillother slaves: porters waiting for a stray job; grayheads, too old forburdens, plaiting baskets; or a fat mammy behind her pot of couscous.

  Three porters sat on little benches on the top step of a church porch.Leighton approached one of them.

  "Brother," he said, "give me your stool."

  The slave rose, and straightened to a great height. He held up his handsfor a blessing. He grinned when Leighton sat down on his bench. Then helooked keenly at Lewis's face, and promptly dragged the black at hisside to his feet.

  "Give thy bench to the young master, thou toad."

  Leighton nodded his head.

  "No fool, the old boy, eh? The son's the spit of the father." His eyesswept the swarming street. "What men! What men!" He was looking at theblacks. "Boy, did you ever hear of a general uprising among the slavesat home, in the States?"

  "No," said Lewis; "there never was one."

  "Exactly," said Leighton. "There never was one because in the early daysour planters found out what not to buy in the way of black meat. Theyweren't looking for the indomitable spirit. They weren't looking formen, but for slaves, and the black-birders soon learned that if theydidn't want to carry their cargo farther than New Orleans they had toload up with members of the gentlest tribes. Now, there have beenterrible uprisings of blacks in the West Indies, in Demerara and here.Ask this old chap of what race he is."

  Lewis turned and asked the question. The tall black straightened, hisface grew stern, his eyes moist.

  "Tito, my name. I am of the tribe of Minas. In the time of thygrandfather I was traded as ransom for a king."

  "Hm--m, I can believe it," said Leighton. "Now ask the next one, thecopper-colored giant."

  "And thou?" said Lewis.

  "I? I am a Fulah of the Fulahs. Before blacks were, or whites, we werethus, the color of both."

  "You see?" said Leighton. "Pride. He was afraid you'd take him for amulatto. Now the other fellow, there."

  "And thou?" said Lewis.

  The third black had remained seated. He turned his eyes slowly to Lewis.

  "I am no slave," he began. "I am of the tribe of Houssa. To my master'swealth. I added fifteen of my sons. In the great rebellion they fell,one and all."

  "The great rebellion," said Leighton. "He means the last Houssauprising. Thirty thousand of 'em, and they fought and fell to a man. TheGovernment was glad of the chance to wipe 'em out. Ask him how heescaped."

  "Escaped?" The black's eyes gleamed. "Child, I did not escape. Mymaster's son was a babe in arms. My master bade me bear him to safety.When I came back, alone I bore my master to the grave. Then it was toolate. They would not kill me. Now the babe is grown. He tells me I am afree man. It is written on paper."

  While Leighton and Lewis watched the crowd, they themselves did notremain unnoticed. A small group of the leisurely class began to blockthe pavement before them. Father and son were a strange pair. Lewis wasstill in his leather cow-boy clothes. Alone, he would not have attractedmore notice than a man with a beard and a carpet-bag on Broadway; butthe juxtaposition of pith helmet, a thing unknown in those parts, andcountryman's flat leather hat, and the fact of their wearers usurpingthe seats of two black carriers was too much for one native son, dressedin the latest Paris fashion.

  "Thou, porter," he called to Leighton, "an errand for thee. Go fetch myfather. He would not miss this sight."

  "What does he say?" asked Leighton.

  Lewis blushed as people stopped and added their sparkling eyes to thoseof the crowd already gathered.

  "He calls you a porter, and bids you fetch his father to see the sight."

  "Ask him," said Leighton, calmly, "shall I know him who he thinks is hisfather by his horns?"

  Lewis translated innocently enough. The crowd gasped, and then roaredwith laughter. The youth in Paris clothes turned purple with rage, shookhis little cane at Leighton, and burst into abusive language.

  "Why," cried Lewis--"why, what's the matter with him?"

  "I'm sure I don't know," said Leighton, pensively. "And just now he wasso dignified!"

  A private sedan-chair, borne by four splendid blacks, swung by at a run.As it passed, one of its silk curtains was drawn aside and the face of awoman, curious to see the reason of the crowd, looked out. The face wasclear white, blue-veined, red-lipped; under the black eyes were shadows.A slight smile curved the red lips as the shadowy eyes fell uponLeighton and Lewis.

  Leighton went tense, like a hound in leash.

  "Look, boy!" he cried. "A patrician passes!"

  The lady heard, understood. The smile, that was half-disdain, deepened.She bowed slightly, but graciously. The curtain fell.

  "Come, boy," said Leighton, "we can't stand that. Let's go find atailor."

  "Dad," said Lewis, "do you know her? She bowed."

  "She did, God bless her!" said Leighton. "No, I don't know her; butlet's think kindly of her, for she has added a charming memory to life."