Rachael was glad to escape to the heights with Alexander.  There it was almost as cool as it should be in December, and she could watch for her husband’s sloop.  He had gone with the first light wind, and there was enough to bring him home, although with heavy sail.  She forgot the muttering negroes and the sickness below.  Her servants had been instructed to nurse and nourish where assistance was needed, and up here there was nothing to do but wander with her friend and child through the gay beauty of the terraced garden, or climb the stone steps to the cold quiet depths of the forest.

At the end of a fortnight there was no sign of her husband’s sloop, but the wind was strengthening, and she decided to return home and make ready for him.  During the long drive she passed negroes in large numbers, either walking toward Charles Town or standing in muttering groups by the roadside.  At one time the driveway was so thick with them that her coach could not pass until the postilion laid about him with his whip.

“This is very odd,” she said to her nurse.  “I have never seen anything like this before.”

“Me no t’ink he nothin’.  All go tee tick—­oh, dis pic’nee no keep till one minit.  Me no t’ink about he’n de road.”

She lifted the child between her face and her mistress’s eyes, and Rachael saw that her hand trembled.  “Can the negroes be rising?” she wondered; and for a moment she was faint with terror, and prayed for Hamilton’s return.

But she was heroic by nature, and quickly recovered her poise.  When she arrived at home she sent the nurse to Charles Town on an errand, then went directly to her bedroom, which was disconnected from the other rooms, and called her three devoted maids, Rebecca, Flora, and Esther.  They came running at the sound of her voice, and she saw at once that they were terrified and ready to cling to her garments.

“What is the matter?” she demanded.  “Tell me at once.”

“Me no know fo’ sure,” said Rebecca, “but me t’ink, t’ink, till me yell in me tleep.  Somethin’ ter’ble go to happen.  Me feel he in de air.  All de daddys, all de buddys, ’peak, ‘peak, togedder all de time, an’ look so bad—­an’ de oby doctors put de curse ebberywheres.  Me fine befo’ de gate dis mornin’ one pudden’, de mud an’ oil an’ horsehair, but me no touch he.  Me ask all de sissys me know, what comes, but he no ’peak.  He run out he tongue, and once he smack me ear.  Oh, Mistress, take us back to Sinkitts.”

“But do you know nothing?”

They shook their heads, but stared at her hopefully, for they believed implicitly in her power to adjust all things.

“And my other slaves?  Do you think they are faithful to me?”

“All in de town all de time.  Me ask ebbery he tell me what comes, and he say ‘nothin,’ but I no believe he.”

“And has the Governor taken no notice?”

“De Gobbenor lord and all de noble Buckras go yis’day to Sinkitts.  Take de militia for one gran’ parade in Bassetarr.  Is de birfday to-morrow de Gobbenor lord de Sinkitts.  Up in de Great Houses no hear nothin’, an’ all quiet on ‘states till yes’day.  Now comin’ to town an’ look so bad, so bad!”