Exactly—I was so—but let the reader
reflect that I was made so by education. From the time that I could
first remember, I had been tyrannised over; cuffed, kicked, abused
and ill-treated. I had never known kindness. Most truly was the
question put by me, "Charity and mercy—what are they?" I never heard
of them. An American Indian has kind feelings—he is hospitable and
generous—yet, educated to inflict, and receive, the severest
tortures to and from, his enemies, he does the first with the most
savage and vindictive feelings, and submits to the latter with
indifference and stoicism. He has, indeed, the kindlier feelings of
his nature exercised; still, this changes him not. He has been from
earliest infancy brought up to cruelty, and he cannot feel that it is
wrong. Now, my position was worse. I had never seen the softer
feelings of our nature called into play; I knew nothing but tyranny
and oppression, hatred and vengeance. It was therefore not surprising
that, when my turn came, I did to others as I had been done by.
Jackson had no excuse for his treatment of me, whereas, I had every
excuse for retaliation. He did know better, I did not. I followed the
ways of the world in the petty microcosm in which I had been placed.
I knew not of mercy, of forgiveness, charity, or goodwill. I knew not
that there was a God; I only knew that might was right, and the most
pleasurable sensation which I felt, was that of anxiety for
vengeance, combined with the consciousness of power.
After I had bathed, I again examined the chest and its contents. I
looked at the books without touching them. "I must know what these
mean," thought I, "and I will know." My thirst for knowledge was
certainly most remarkable, in a boy of my age; I presume for the
simple reason, that we want most what we cannot obtain; and Jackson
having invariably refused to enlighten me on any subject, I became
most anxious and impatient to satisfy the longing which increased
with my growth.
Chapter V
For three days did Jackson lie on his bed; I supplied him with
water, but he did not eat anything. He groaned heavily at times, and
talked much to himself, and I heard him ask forgiveness of God, and
pardon for his sins. I noted this down for an explanation. On the
third day, he said to me,
"Henniker, I am very ill. I have a fever coming on, from the wound
you have given me. I do not say that I did not deserve it, for I did,
and I know that I have treated you ill, and that you must hate me,
but the question is, do you wish me to die?"
"No," replied I; "I want you to live, and answer all my questions,
and you shall do so."
"I will do so," replied he. "I have done wrong, and I will make
amends. Do you understand me? I mean to say, that I have been very
cruel to you, and now I will do all you wish, and answer every
question you may put to me, as well as I can."
"That is what I want," replied I.
"I know it is, but my wound is festering and must be washed and
dressed. The feathers make it worse. Will you do this for me?"
I thought a little, and recollected that he was still in my power,
as he could not obtain water. I replied, "Yes, I will."
"The cord hurts it, you must take it off."
I fetched the kid of water, and untied the cord, and took away the
feathers, which had matted together with the flow of blood, and then
I washed the wound carefully. Looking into the wound, my desire of
information induced me to say, "What are these little white cords,
which are cut through?"
"They are the sinews and tendons," replied he, "by which we are
enabled to move our hands and fingers; now these are cut through, I
shall not have the use of my hand again."
"Stop a moment," said I, rising up, "I have just thought of
something." I ran down to the point where the chest lay, took a shirt
from the rock, and brought it back with me, and tearing it into
strips, I bandaged the wound.
"Where did you get that linen?" said Jackson.
I told him.
"And you got the knife there, too," said he, with a sigh. I replied
in the affirmative.
As soon as I had finished, he told me he was much easier, and said,
"I thank you."
"What is I thank you?" replied I.
"It means that I am grateful for what you have done."
"And what is grateful?" inquired I again. "You never said those
words to me before."
"Alas, no," replied he; "it had been better if I had. I mean that I
feel kindly towards you, for having bound up my wound, and would do
anything for you if I had the power. It means, that if I had my
eyesight, as I had a week ago, and was master, as I then was, that I
would not kick nor beat you, but be kind to you.
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