The Afternoon Ride of Paul Revere Columbus Dobbs

PAUL REVERE COLUMBUS DOBBS, more generally known in the family circle and throughout Riverport by the abbreviated title of ‘Polly Clum,’ stood before his mother in an attitude of respectful attention.

Mrs. Dobbs, tall, portly, and majestic, in a freshly ironed green-andyellow striped calico gown and a turkey-red turban of towering proportions, admonished her son, punctuating her mandates with a menacing forefinger.

‘You shif’less, fedder-headed, refactory young one, you listen ter me an’ you listen keerful, too. I’s goin’ ter Brayton ter wash fer Mis’ Cunnle Porter an’ I specs ter be gone mos’ all day. I’s goin’ ter take C’nelia ’Melia wid me, but de odder chilluns you done got ter min’ ter hum. An’ doan’ you cut no sech monkeyshines wid ’em ez you done cut de day yer pa an’ me went ter de gin’ral mustard. Ef you does I’ll sholy skun yer hide when I gits back. You hyer me?’

Polly Clum curled his toes meekly on the kitchen floor.

‘Yas’m,’ he responded earnestly, ‘I’s lis’nin’ wid all mah ears an’ eyes.’

‘I specs you ter do eberything ter ’muse dem chilluns an’ keep ’em outer trouble,’ Mrs. Dobbs continued. ‘Doan’ you let Moses Pharaoh git afire, an’ doan’ you let dem twins paddle in dat tub ob bluein’ water in de yard. You know dat whateber Florindy Lady Washin’ton does, Lucindy Queener Scots is boun’ ter foller. An’ doan’ you let ’Mericus Poleum touch de cole poke an’ beans tell dinner time. I’s hid de merlasses jug where none ob you cyan’t find it. You goin’ ter ’bey mah deflections, huh?’

‘Yas’m,’ reiterated Polly Clum, ‘I’s sholy goin’ ter do zackly ez you tells me, mammy.’

Mrs. Dobbs, somewhat reassured by Polly Clum’s humble and attentive demeanor, modified her tones.

‘Poll Rebere C’lumbus,’ she said solemnly, ‘inter yer han’s I’s done c’mitted de ’tegrity and de poppilarity ob de Dobbs fambly fer de res’ ob dis day. Lib up ter de ingrejents ob yer fambly, Polly C’lum. ’Member dat yer pa’s grandpa warn’t no common, low-down, slabe nigger from Carliny, ner no sech place. He was brung straight ter Rhode Islan’ off ’n de gole coast, ob Afrieky. Neber fergit dat you is a descenderation ob a Guinea.’

‘No, mammy, I ain’t a-goin’ ter fergit it,’ replied Polly Clum, rearing his kinky crest proudly. ‘All de time you is gone I’s a-goin’ ter keep a-sayin’, “ I’s a descenderation! I’s a descenderation!”’

‘’Member, too,’ went on Mrs. Dobbs, greatly encouraged by the evident impression she had produced upon her offspring, who usually displayed a callous indifference to the grandeur of the family tree, ‘’member, too, dat you was n’t baptized by no low-down, onregenrit name. Yer pa an’ me gib you de names ob two ob de most extinguished pussons dat eber transmigrated de yearth. Ole Gin’ral Poll Rebere owned de fastest racehorse ob Rebolutionary times. An’ Cap’n C’lumbus was a gret trabeller an’ diskivered ’Merica afore Wash’n’ton was selected pres’dunt. You lib up ter dem names, Polly Clum. ’T’ain’t eberybuddy done got sech ’sponsible names ez you has.’

‘Yas’m, mammy, I’s goin’ ter lib right clus ’longside ob ’em,’cried Polly Clum with enthusiasm. ‘ I’s a-goin’ ter hole onter dem names by de wool. I is sholy.’

Mrs. Dobbs heaved a sigh of satisfaction, but further admonitions on her part, were cut short by the rumble of wheels outside the house, and the entrance of Americus Napoleon, shouting excitedly, —

‘Cunnle Porter done come fer you, mammy, an’ he done come in a shay!’

Mrs. Dobbs hastily shrouded her turban in a green veil, wrapped the two-year-old Cornelia Amelia in an ancient. blue shawl, and hurried out to the waiting conveyance. The children clambered upon the fence and watched her movements with interested eyes. As the colonel’s old gray horse started down the dusty road, Moses Pharaoh uttered an ear-piercing whoop expressive of delight. But whether delight at his parent’s departure, or at her departure in such state, did not appear.

Polly Clum maintained a dignified silence until the chaise disappeared around a curve in the road. Then, assuming as far as possible his mother’s tone and manner, he proceeded to issue his commands for the day.

‘You, Florindy Washin’ton, don’t stan’ thar a-gappin’ at me but hike inter de house an’ tackle dem breakfus’ dishes. ’N’ you, Lucindy Queener, lif’ dem lazy feets an’ git Jinson Johnson ter sleep. ’Mericus Poleum, did n’t you done hyer me tell you ter grapple de axe? You an’ Mose Pharaoh take de bushel baxits an’ romble inter de grove an’ c’lec’ some kin’lin’ wood. An’ you, Prunella Ar’bella, you bresh up de kitchen floor an’ doan’ let any dirt gedder under yer heels while you is doin’ it.’

Americus Napoleon, as being next in age to Polly Clum, displayed a somewhat mutinous spirit.

‘T’ink I’s goin’ do all de wuk an’ you do nuttin’ but speechify?’ he demanded. ‘I kin lick de wool off’n yer haid, I kin.’

‘’Mericus,’ Polly Clum responded loftily, ‘de ’tegrity an’ de poppilarity ob dis fambly is mistrusted ter me fer de day, an’ I’s goin’ ter circumspeck ’em both. You may fergit you is a descenderation, but I’s a-goin’ ter ’member it. Yaas, sir. You hop out ter dem woods.’

Silenced, if not convinced, Americus, followed by Moses Pharaoh, betook himself to his alloted task, and Polly Clum entered the kitchen and perched himself on the back of a broken chair. Thus enthroned, he calmly chewed spruce gum while Florinda and Prunella performed their domestic labors, stimulated to unusual diligence by occasional prods of his swinging foot.

Lucinda, obedient to orders, sat rocking the infant Jinson Johnson in her arms while she crooned her own particular version of the nursery rhyme, —

Incited by this suggestive ballad, Jinson Johnson proceeded to ‘ bile over ’ in a series of blood-curdling shrieks, which were finally silenced only by the sacrifice of a large lump of moist brown sugar which the harried Queen of Scots had abstracted from the sugar-bowl, that morning, for her own delectation.

When the dishes were at last finished, the kitchen tidied, and Jinson Johnson locked in saccharine slumber, Polly Clum relaxed his dignity sufficiently to propose an adjournment to the yard for a game of hide-and-seek. By the time this pastime was ended it was high noon and the twins repaired indoors to prepare dinner. Americus and Moses appeared with the kindling wood, very tired, hungry, and rebellious. Even the cold pork, beans, and brown bread, temptingly arranged upon the washbench under the shade of a spreading apple tree, failed to pacify the defiant spirit of Americus.

‘I tell you what, Polly Clum,’ he declared shrilly, ‘I’s jest, ez nigh related ter Guinea folks ez you is, an’ I ain’t goin’ ter enjure no more ob yer riotin’ ober mah haid. Is you fed Belshazzar?’

‘No, I ain’t,’ Polly Clum answered shortly.

‘Onlessen you feed him he’ll go hongrv,’ returned Americus. ‘Me an’ Moses Pharaoh is wukked enough dis mawnin’. We’s goin’ ter loaf dis afternoon, we is.’

‘Ef Poleum an’ Mose ain’t goin’ ter wuk no more, me an’ Florindy an’ Prunella Ar’bella ain’t goin’ ter wuk, neider,’ unexpectedly proclaimed the Queen of Scots, who, of all the Dobbs olive branches, was considered to be the most meek and yielding. ‘We’s goin’ ter set out. on de woodshed step and knit stockin’s lak ladies does.’

Polly Clum’s gaze swept the circle of hostile faces. Every pair of darkly rolling eyes sparkled defiantly. He decided that diplomacy was the better part of valor.

‘I’s ’tendin’ ter deliber dat bull his orations, mahself,’ he said with dignity. Ignoring Americus, he addressed Lucinda. ‘You is all ben berry good Chilians, ter-day, an’ I’s goin’ ter projeck a neward of merit. Arter dese dishes is did I’s goin’ ter gib you all a ride roun’ de town.’

Florinda Lady Washington uttered a squeal of mingled amazement, delight, and fear.

‘Pappy’ll sholy skun you ef you hitch up Belshazzar,’ she cried. ‘He done tole you nebber ter tech him onlessn he gib you remission ter.’

‘Mammy done demanded me ter ’muse you an’ keep you outer trouble,’ Polly Clum responded, loftily, ‘an’ I’s goin’ ter foller her rejections. I kin dribe dat bull lak he is a lamb.’

‘I’s afeared pappy’ll whale us,’ whimpered the Queen of Scots.

‘How he goin’ ter know ’bout de ride?’ questioned Americus, suddenly veering to Polly Clum’s support. ‘He ain’t comin’ back from Newport tell ter-morrer. Who’s goin’ blab ebery triflin’ ting dat has recurred ter-day?’

‘I’s done begun ter dismember sech foolishness a’ready,’ Moses Pharaoh declared.

The twins gazed fearfully at one another. Then, simultaneously, they sprang to their feet and began to hustle the dishes into the kitchen.

Polly Clum, followed by Americus and Moses, hastened to a dilapidated shed which occupied one corner of the yard. Belshazzar, a large red and white animal whose naturally fierce disposition had been humbled by age and much hard labor, softly bellowed a welcome as the boys entered.

While the bull contentedly ate his dinner, the brothers drew a large tipcart, painted blue, from behind the shed. This tip-cart was one of the most valuable assets in the possession of the Dobbs family. During the morning hours Mr. Dobbs was accustomed to make use of it for the purpose of collecting rags, old bottles, bones, and similar merchandise. During the afternoon hours it was utilized as a family equipage.

Polly Clum surveyed the vehicle critically.

‘’Pears lak dis yere kerridge oughter ’splay some desecrations,’ he observed. ‘You, Poleum an’ Mose, hike ober ter dat grove agin an’ fotch me some nebbergreens.’

Moses and Americus hastened across the road, quickly returning with several large hemlock boughs.

Polly Clum deftly arranged these along the side of the cart.

‘Huh!’ grunted Americus. ‘How we goin’ ter see de sights? We done got ter set on de floor ob dat cyart. Speck we kin stretch our necks, lak geeses does, ober dem limbs?’

‘Hole your fool tongue, Poleum,’ responded Polly Clum. ‘I’s derangin ’dis hyer ride. I’s goin’ ter put mammy’s bigges’ washtub in dat cyart. Den all you chilluns kin set on de aidge an’ res’ yer feets on de tub’s hot tom. What goin’ hender you all from seein’ de sights, I lak ter know?’

He reëntered the shed and led Belshazzar forth. To the animal’s horns he fastened a much frayed and soiled piece of sail-cloth which, hanging down over his eyes, prevented the bull from seeing anything save the ground. From a peg in the shed he took down a sort of rope cat’s-cradle, with which he proceeded to harness Belshazzar to the tipcart. The cat’s-cradle was popularly said to be composed of every known variety of cordage, from hawser to signal halyards, and displayed so many knots that rumor declared that Mrs. Dobbs punished particularly refractory children by compelling them to count them over and over until exhaustion conquered their rebellious spirits.

While Polly Clum adjusted this complicated piece of handiwork, Americus and Moses brought from the kitchen a mammoth washtub which Mr. Dobbs had recently constructed from a quarter section of a molasses hogshead. This they hoisted into the cart. Belshazzar was then led to the front of the house.

Lady Washington stood before the cracked mirror in the kitchen putting the finishing touches to her toilette.

‘’Pears lak dey stan’ up lak a passel ob squir’ls’ tails,’ she observed, surveying with marked disapprobation the eight stiff braids which surrounded her head like a wooly halo. ‘I’s goin’ ter borrv mammy’s back comb an’ cotch ’em all inter a hunch.’

‘Ef you is goin’ ter dress up in dat comb I’s goin’ ter dedorn mah han’s with mammy’s white mitts,’ announced the Queen of Scots.

‘An’ I’s goin’ ter membellish mahself with her blue necklidge,’ added Prunella Arabella.

‘Better let dem beads ’lone,’ warned Florinda. ‘Mammy say de cord dey strung on li’ble ter bust any time.’

Prunella surveyed her sister loftily.

‘What you t’ink?’ she demanded. ‘T’ink caze you’n’ Lucindy Queener is goin’ on ten an’ I’s goin’ on eight dat I ain’t ob no quinsequence? Mammy done say yistiddy, dat I is de genteelest ’pearin’ an’ de pollutest mannered pusson in de fambly. Ef you doan’ stop noratin’ ’bout necklidges I’s jest sholy goin’ ter delighten mammy ’bout dat comb an’ dem mitts ez soon’z she ’rives back from Brayton. You better recomsider what you done say.’

‘I ain’t nebber out an’ out erected ye not ter wear dem beads,’ returned Lady Washington, hastily. ‘I on’y kinder hinted a s’posin’ sump’n’ might happen. I sholy t’ink dat dey would set off yer looks, Ar’bella. I done tell Lucindy Queener more’n onct, dat blue is yer mos’ becomin’est color.’

‘An’ I tink you better both quit jawin’ an’ come ’long fore de day ends,’ interrupted the Queen of Scots, impatiently. ‘De kerridge is at de do’.’

She caught up Jinson Johnson, who had wakened from his nap in a stale of cherubic amiability, and hurried from the house, closely followed by Florinda bearing a gay, albeit somewhat tattered, patchwork bedquilt. Prunella, triumphantly dignified, stalked majestically in their wake.

The quilt was carefully placed in the tub and the smiling infant deposited upon it. Then the three girls clambered in and took their seats besides Moses Pharaoh and Americas, who were already balancing themselves on the tub’s edge. Lucinda leaned back among the hemlock boughs and carelessly dropped one mitted hand over the side of the cart.

’Leal) dat ter hum,’ she commanded, as Polly Clum was about to slip the tail-board into place. ‘How’s any pusson goin’ ter extinguish us ef you puts dat t’ing up?’

‘It sholy ought ter be up,’ argued Polly Clum. ‘You s’pose dat Pres ’dunt Po’k dribes roun’ in his scoach wid de do’ wide open?’

‘Huh! What you know ’bout Pres’dunt Po’k?’ the Queen retorted. ‘I’s done got ’speriunce dat you ain’t nebber dreamt ob. What you t’ink Mis’ Po’k ride ’bout for, all nornamented wid lace and fedders, ef ’t ain’t ter make folkses gap’ at her? You is mighty donkeyfied some ways, Polly Clum.’

Polly Clum silently cast the offending board on the ground and climbed into the cart. Gathering up the hempen reins, he struck Belshazzar smartly with their knotted ends.

‘Gwan, you wuthless ole piece ob beef!’ he shouted. ‘Kick up dem turkle slow huffs ob yours ef you doan’ wanter fin’ yer tough hide in de tanyard befo’ de chickens goes ter roost! You hyer me?’

Thus admonished, Belshazzar started off at a brisk walk, switching his tail as if conscious that, unusual events were happening. The Dobbs residence was located in the suburbs of Riverport and, for some little distance, the turnout attracted no attention. But when Belshazzar approached the compact part of the town, it became the cynosure of all eyes. Merchants hastened to their shop doors to gaze at it; women left their household tasks to peer curiously from windows; groups of children ran after it, shouting, hooting, and squealing with delight.

The circle of dusky faces that crowned the washtub was radiant with pride and satisfaction. Lucinda returned the noisy salutations by waving her lacemitted hands. Florinda bowed gracefully to right and left, displaying the high comb to the best advantage. Prunella negligently fingered the blue necklace as she occasionally bent her head. The less aristocratic Americus and Moses indulged in a series of grimaces that, would have driven a monkey wild with envy, had such an animal been numbered among the spectators. Polly Clum alone maintained an appearance of stately indifference to his surroundings. The blood of a long line of kings of the Guinea coast was pulsing rapturously in his veins, but he gave no visible sign of elation. He thought of Paul Revere and felt that he had a right to bear that hero’s name.

In Riverport there were two principal highways connected by a number of shorter streets. Up one of these streets plodded Belshazzar, the long line of his followers increasing at every corner. Dogs added their yelps and barks to the general hubbub. A youthful poet chanted in a shrill falsetto, —

At last the boundary line of the adjacent town of Oldfield was reached and the vehicle turned about. And then occurred the catastrophe which made the afternoon ride of Paul Revere Columbus Dobbs as famous in the annals of his native place as the midnight ride of his illustrious namesake is famous in the annals of the Revolution.

Belshazzar, realizing that he was now being driven in the direction of home, quickened his pace almost to a trot. Up the main street bounced the cart with a tremendous clatter and rattle. But, just as the bull reached the centre of the town, the piece of cord that held his sail-cloth blinder in place snapped and the bit of canvas fluttered to the ground. At the same moment a peddler’s wagon, painted a glowing vermilion, came jogging around a nearby corner.

Belshazzar eyed this flaming apparition for a second and then, with a thunderous bellow, charged upon it. The peddler had barely time to swerve aside ere the bull dashed by at a mad gallop, his horns lowered, Ids angry orbs emitting flashes of demoniac fire. The scurrying bystanders caught a fleeting glimpse of six ebony faces rigid with terror and consternation. Then the cart came into sudden and violent contact with the town pump. It careened wildly, the thole-pin gave way, and out of the vehicle shot the washtub with its cargo of human freight. Maddened by the shrieks of his victims, Belshazzar threw his heels high in the air and tore on like a hurricane, leaving a trail of tub staves, hemlock boughs, wearing apparel, and bruised and dust-covered Dobbses in his wake.

Americus Napoleon was the first to recover his senses after the rude shock. Slowly he got upon his feet and blinked his bewildered eyes. Then he uttered a cry of anguish that curdled the blood in the veins of his hearers.

‘Cunnle Porter’s shay!’ he wailed. ‘It’s a-comin’ wid mammy in it! It’s right here clus to us! An’ mammy hez tooken de hoss-whip out oh de socket! O laws-a-mussy, what we pore frien’less civilians goin’ ter do now?’

At the sound of his voice the chaise came to a halt, and Mrs. Dobbs descended upon her offspring like a dark avenging angel. She gazed at the blue beads rolling in the dust, at the toothless back comb lying at her feet, at the torn and blood-stained mitts on the hands of the terrified Queen of Scots, at the writhing form of Jinson Johnson wrapped in the fragments of the once gay quilt. Then she caught Polly Clum by the woolly top-knot that crinkled above his brow.

‘You onsanctified, distrustable, nerogatory descenderation ob a barbarious Guinea nigger!’ she began.

But Polly Clum with a mighty effort wrenched himself from her grasp and fled in the footsteps of Belshazzar, leaving his less fortunate brothers and sisters to the dire fate that awaited them.