CHAPTER TWELVE
_Caught in a Corner_
It was no difficult matter for Nan Dorrington to infer what course ofaction Gabriel intended to pursue. The Union Leagues established in theSouth under the auspices of the political department of the Freedman'sBureau had already excited the suspicion of the whites. The reputationthey instantly achieved was extremely sinister, and they had become thesource of much uneasiness. There was an air of mystery about them which,however pleasing it might be to the negroes, was not at all relished bythose who had been made the victims of radical legislation. There werewild rumours to the effect that the object of these leagues was toorganise the negroes and prepare them for an armed attack on the whites.
These rumours were to be seen spread out in the newspapers, and were tobe heard wherever people gathered together. Nan was familiar with them,and, while both she and Gabriel were possibly too young to harbour allthe anxieties entertained by their elders, they nevertheless took a verykeen interest in the situation; and it was not less keen because it hadcuriosity for its basis.
Gabriel had no sooner digested the purport of the conversation to whichhe had listened than he made up his mind to unravel, if he could, themystery of the Union League, and to discover what part the new-comer,the companion of the Rev. Jeremiah Tomlin, proposed to play. It wascharacteristic of the lad that he should act promptly. When he left Nanso unceremoniously, he ran to the Clopton Place to report what he hadheard to Mr. Sanders, but he found that worthy citizen in no conditionto give him aid, or even advice. Meriwether Clopton chanced to be inconsultation with some gentleman from Atlanta, and could not be seen,while Francis Bethune was said to be in town somewhere.
It was then that Gabriel made up his mind that he would act alone. Heknew the old school-house in which the league was to be organised, aswell as he knew his own home. It had formerly been called the Shady DaleMale Academy, and its reputation, before the war, had gone far and wide.Gabriel had spent many a happy hour there, and some that were memorablyunpleasant, especially during the term that a school-master by the nameof McManus wielded the rod. Among the things that Gabriel remembered wasthe fact that the space under the stairway--the building had twostories--was boarded up so as to form a large closet, where the pupilsdeposited their extra coats and wraps, as well as their lunches. Thecloset had also been used as a reformatory for refractory pupils, andthis was one reason why Gabriel remembered it so well; he had spentnumerous uncomfortable hours there at a time when darkness and isolationhad real terrors for him.
The building had been abandoned by the whites during the war, and wasfor a time used as a hospital. At the close of the war it was turnedover to the negroes, who established there a flourishing school, whichwas presided over by a native Southerner, an old gentleman whom the warhad stripped of this world's goods.
Gabriel thought it best to begin operations before the sun went down. Hemade a detour wide enough to place the school-house between him andShady Dale, so that if by any chance his movements should attractattention he would have the appearance of approaching the building quiteby accident. Under the circumstances, it was perhaps fortunate that hetook this precaution, for when he drew near the school-house, the Rev.Jeremiah Tomlin was standing in the back door flourishing a broom.
"Hello, Jeremiah!" said Gabriel by way of salutation. "What's up now?"
"Good-evenin', Mister Gabe," responded the Rev. Jeremiah. "Dey beenhavin' some plasterin' done in my chu'ch, suh, an' we 'lowd we'd hol'pra'r-meetin' here ter-night. An' I'll tell you why, suh: You knowmighty well how we coloured folks does--we ain't got nothin' fer terhide, an' we couldn't hide it ef we did had sump'n. Well, suh, demmongst us what got any erligion is bleeze ter show it; when de sperretmove um, dey bleeze ter let one an'er know it; an' in dat way, suh, deydo a heap er movin' 'bout. Dey rastles wid Satan, ez you may say, whendey gits in a weavin' way; an' I wuz fear'd, suh, dat dey mought shakede damp plasterin' down."
"But you have no pulpit here," suggested Gabriel, who associated apulpit with all religious gatherings.
"So much de better, suh," replied the Rev. Jeremiah. "Ef you wuz tercome ter my chu'ch, you'd allers see me come down when I gits warmed up.Dey ain't no pulpit big nuff for me long about dat time. No, suh; I'mbleeze ter have elbow-room, an' I'm mighty glad dey ain't no pulpit inhere. But whar you been, Mr. Gabe?" inquired the Rev. Jeremiah, craftilychanging the subject.
"Just walking about in the woods and fields," answered Gabriel.
"'Twant no use fer ter ax you, suh; you been doin' dat sence you wuz bignuff ter clime a fence. Ef you wan't wid Miss Nan, you wuz by yo'se'f. Iuv seed you many a day, suh, when you didn't see me. You wuz wid MissNan dis ve'y day." The Rev. Jeremiah dropped his head to one side, andsmiled a knowing smile. "Oh, you needn't be shame un it, suh," the negrowent on as the colour slowly mounted to Gabriel's face. "I uv said itbefo' an' I'll say it ag'in, an' I don't keer who hears me--Miss Nan isboun' ter make de finest 'oman in de lan'. An' dat ain't all, suh: whenI hear folks hintin' dat she's gwine ter make a match wid Mr. FrankBethune, sez I, 'Des keep yo' eye on Mr. Gabe'; dat zackly what I sez."
"Oh, the dickens and Tom Walker!" exclaimed Gabriel impatiently; "who'sbeen talking of the affairs of Miss Dorrington in that way?"
"Why, purty nigh eve'ybody, suh," remarked the Rev. Jeremiah, smackinghis lips. "What white folks say in de parlour, you kin allers hear in dekitchen."
After firing this homely truth at Gabriel, the Rev. Jeremiah went towork with his broom and made a great pretence of sweeping and moving thebenches about. The lad followed him in, and looked about him withinterest. It was the first time he had revisited the old school-housesince he was a boy of ten, and he was pleased to find that there hadbeen few changes. The desk at which he had sat was intact. His initials,rudely carved, stared him in the face, and there, too, was the hole hehad cut in the seat. He remembered that this was a dungeon in which hehad imprisoned many a fly. These mute evidences of his idleness seemedto be as solid as the hills. Between those times and the present, thewild and furious perspective of war lay spread out, and Gabriel couldimagine that the idler who had hacked the desk belonged to anothergeneration altogether.
He went to the blackboard, found a piece of chalk, and wrote in a large,bold hand: "Rev. Jeremiah Tomlin will lecture here to-night, beginningat early candle-light."
The Rev. Jeremiah, witnessing the performance, had his curiosityaroused: "What is de word you uv writ, suh?" he inquired, and whenGabriel had read it off, the negro exclaimed, "Well, suh! You put alldat down, an' it didn't take you no time; no, suh, not no time. But Imight uv speckted it, bekase I hear lots er talk about how smart you ison all sides--dey all sesso."
"Does Tasma Tid belong to your church?" Gabriel inquired with a mostinnocent air.
"Do which, suh?" exclaimed Rev. Jeremiah, pausing with his broomsuspended in the air. When Gabriel repeated his inquiry, the Rev.Jeremiah drew a deep breath, his nostrils dilated, and he seemed to growseveral inches taller. "No, suh, she do not; no, suh, she do not belongter my chu'ch. You kin look at her, suh, an' see de mark er de Ol' Boyon her. She got de hoodoo eye, suh; an' de blue gums dat go long wid it,an' ef she wuz ter jine my chu'ch, she'd be de only member."
It was very clear to Gabriel that nothing was to be gained by remaining,so he bade the Rev. Jeremiah good-bye, and went toward Shady Dale. Whenhe was well out of sight, the negro approached the blackboard, and, withthe most patient curiosity, examined the inscription or announcementthat Gabriel had written. With his forefinger, he traced over the lines,as if in that way he might absorb the knowledge that was behind thewriting. Then, stepping back a few paces, he viewed the writingcritically. Finally he shook his head doubtfully, exclaiming aloud:"Dat's whar dey'll git us--yes, suh, dat's whar dey sho' will git us."
After which, he carefully closed the doors of the school-house andfollowed the path leading to Shady Dale--the path that Gabriel hadtaken. The Rev. Jeremiah mumbled as he walked along, giving oralutterance to his thoughts, bu
t in a tone too low to reveal their import.He had taken a step which it was now too late to retrace. He was not avicious negro. In common with the great majority of his race--incommon, perhaps with the men of all races--he was eaten up by a desireto become prominent, to make himself conspicuous. Generations ofcivilisation (as it is called) have gone far to tone down this desire inthe whites, and they manage to control it to some extent, though now andthen we see it crop out in individuals. But there had been no toningdown of the Rev. Jeremiah's egotism; on the contrary, it had been fed bythe flattery of his congregation until it was gross and rank.
It was natural, therefore, under all the circumstances, that the Rev.Jeremiah should become the willing tool of the politicians andadventurers who had accepted the implied invitation of the radicalleaders of the Republican Party to assist in the spoliation of theSouth. The Rev. Jeremiah, once he had been patted on the back, andaddressed as Mr. Tomlin by a white man, and that man a representative ofthe Government, was quite ready to believe anything he was told by hisnew friends, and quite as ready to aid them in carrying out any schemethat their hatred of the South and their natural rapacity could suggestor invent.
Therefore, let it not be supposed that the Rev. Jeremiah, as he wentalong the path, mumbling out his thoughts, was expressing any doubt ofthe wisdom or expediency of the part he was expected to play in arrayingthe negroes against the whites. No; he was simply putting together asmany sonorous phrases as he could remember, and storing them away inview of the contingency that he would be called on to address those ofhis race who might be present at the organisation of the Union League.He had been very busy since his conference with the agent of theFreedman's Bureau, and, in one way and another, had managed to conveyinformation of the proposed meeting to quite a number of the negroes;and in performing this service he was careful that a majority of thosenotified should be members of his church--negroes with whom hisinfluence was all-powerful. But he had also invited Uncle Plato,Clopton's carriage-driver, Wiley Millirons, and Walthall's Jake, threeof the worthiest and most sensible negroes to be found anywhere.
While the Rev. Jeremiah, full of his own importance, and swelling withchildish vanity, was making his way toward Neighbour Tomlin's, on whoselot he had a house, rent free, there were other plotters at work. Inaddition to Gabriel Tolliver, Nan Dorrington was a plotter to bereckoned with, especially when she had as her copartner Tasma Tid, whowas as cunning as some wild thing.
When the day was far spent, or, as Mrs. Absalom would say, "along to'rdsthe shank of the evenin'," Nan and Tasma Tid went wandering out of townin the direction of the school-house. The excuse Nan had given at homewas that she wanted to see Tasma Tid's hiding-place. As they passedTomlin's, they saw the Rev. Jeremiah splitting wood for his wife, whowas the cook. At sight of Jeremiah, Tasma Tid began to laugh, and shelaughed so long and so loud that the parson paused in his labours andlooked at her. He took off his hat and bowed to Nan, whereupon Tasma Tidraised her hand above her head, and indulged in a series of wildgesticulations, which, to the Rev. Jeremiah, were very mysterious andpuzzling. He shook his head dubiously, and mopped his face with a largered handkerchief.
"What are you trying to do to Jeremiah?" inquired Nan, as they wentalong.
"Him fool nigger. We make him dream bad dream," responded Tasma Tidcurtly.
The two were in no hurry. They sauntered along leisurely, and, althoughthe sun had not set, by the time they had entered the woods in which theschool-house stood, the deep shadows of the trees gave the effect oftwilight to the scene. Tasma Tid led Nan to the old building, and toldher to wait a moment. The African crawled under the house, and thensuddenly reappeared at the back door, near which Nan stood waiting.Tasma Tid had crawled under the house, and lifted a loose plank in thefloor of the closet, making her entrance in that way. The front door waslocked and the key was safe in the pocket of the Rev. Jeremiah, but theback door was fastened on the inside, and Tasma Tid had no trouble ingetting it open.
It is fair to say that Nan hesitated before entering. Some instinct orpresentiment held her a moment. She was not afraid; her sense of fearhad never developed itself; it was one of the attributes of human naturethat was foreign to her experience; and this was why some of heractions, when she was younger, and likewise when she was older, wereinexplicable to the rest of her sex, and made her the object ofcriticism which seemed to have good ground to go upon. Nan hesitatedwith her foot on the step, but it was not her way to draw back, and shewent in. Tasma Tid refastened the door very carefully, and then turnedand led the way toward the closet. The room was not wholly dark; one ortwo of the shutters had fallen off, and in this way a little lightfiltered in. Nan followed Tasma Tid to the closet, the door of which wasopen.
"Dis-a we house," said Tasma Tid; "dis-a de place wey we live at."
"Why did you come here?" Nan asked.
"We had no nurrer place; all-a we frien' gone; da's why."
What further comment Nan may have made cannot even be guessed, for atthat moment there was a noise at one of the windows; some one was tryingto raise the sash. Nan and Tasma Tid held their breath while theylistened, and then, when they were sure that some one was preparing toenter the building, the African closed the closet door noiselessly, andpulled Nan after her to the narrowest and most uncomfortable part of themusty and dusty place--the space next the stairway, where it was so lowthat they were compelled to sit flat on the floor.
The intruder, whoever he might be, crawled cautiously through thewindow--they could hear the buttons of his coat strike against thesill--and leaped lightly to the floor. He lowered the window again, andthen, after tiptoeing about among the benches, came straight to thecloset. As Tasma Tid had not taken time to fasten it on the inside, thedoor was easily opened. Dark as it was, Nan and the African could seethat the intruder was a man, but, beyond this, they could distinguishnothing. Nan and her companion would have breathed freer if recognitionhad been possible, for the new-comer was Gabriel, who had determined totake this method of discovering the aim and object of the Union League.
Once in the closet, Gabriel took pains to make the inside fasteningssecure. It was one of the whims of Mr. McManus, the school-master, whohad so often caused Gabriel's head and the blackboard to meet, that thefastenings of this closet should be upon the inside. It tickled hishumour to feel that a refractory boy should be his own jailer, able, andyet not daring, to release himself until the master should rap sharplyon the door.
Gabriel was less familiar with these fastenings than he had formerlybeen, and he fumbled about in the dark for some moments before he couldadjust them to his satisfaction. He made no effort to explore thecloset, taking for granted that it could have no other occupant. Thiswas fortunate for Nan, for if he had moved about to any extent, he wouldinevitably have stumbled over the African and her young mistress, whowere crouched and huddled as far under the stairway as they could get.
Gabriel stood still a moment, as if listening, and then he sat flat onthe floor, and stretched out his legs with a sigh of relief. After thatthere was a long period of silence, during which Nan had a fineopportunity to be very sorry that she had ever ventured out on such afool's errand. "If I get out of this scrape," she thought over and overagain, "I'll never be a tomboy; I'll never be a harum-scarum girl anymore." She had no physical fear, but she realised that she was placed ina very awkward position.
She was devoured with curiosity to know whether the intruder really wasGabriel. She hoped it was, and the hope caused her to blush in the dark.She knew she was blushing; she felt her ears burn--for what wouldGabriel think if he knew that she was crouching on the floor, not morethan an arm's length from him? Why, naturally, he would have no respectfor her. How could he? she asked herself.
As for Gabriel, he was sublimely unconscious of the fact that he was notalone. Once or twice he fancied he heard some one breathing, but he wasa lad who was very close to nature, and he knew how many strange andvaried sounds rise mysteriously out of the most profound silence; andso, instead of
becoming suspicious, he became drowsy. He made himself ascomfortable as he could, and leaned against the wall, pitting hispatience against the loneliness of the place and the slow passage oftime.
Being a healthy lad, Gabriel would have gone to sleep then and there,but for a mysterious splutter and explosion, so to speak, which went offright at his elbow, as he supposed. He was in that neutral territorybetween sleeping and waking and he was unable to recognise the soundthat had startled him; and it would have remained a mystery but for thefact that a sneeze is usually accompanied by its twin. Nan had for sometime felt an inclination to sneeze, and the more she tried to resist itthe greater the inclination grew, until finally, it culminated in thespluttering explosion that had aroused Gabriel. This was followed by asneeze which he had no difficulty in recognising.
The fact that some unknown person was a joint occupant of the closetupset him so little that he was surprised at himself. He remainedperfectly quiet for awhile, endeavouring to map out a course of action,little knowing that Nan Dorrington was chewing her nails with anger afew feet from where he sat.
"Who are you?" he asked finally. He spoke in a firm low tone.
In another moment Nan's impulsiveness would have betrayed her, but TasmaTid came to her rescue.
"Huccum you in we house? Whaffer you come dey? How you call you' name?"
"Oh, shucks! Is that you, Tiddy Me Tas?"--this was the way Gabrielsometimes twisted her name. "I thought you were the booger-man. You'dbetter run along home to your Miss Nan. She says she wants to see you.What are you hiding out here for anyway?"
"We no hide, Misser Gable. 'Tis-a we house, dis. Honey Nan no want we;she no want nobody. She talkin' by dat Misser Frank what live-a down deyat Clopton. Dee got cake, dee got wine, dee got all de bittle dee want."
Tasma Tid told this whopper in spite of the fact that Nan was giving herwarning nudges and pinches.
"Yes, I reckon they are having a good time," said Gabriel gloomily."Miss Nan gave me an invitation, but I couldn't go." It was somethingnew in Nan's experience to hear Gabriel call her Miss Nan, and sherather relished the sensation it gave her. She was now ready to believethat she was really and truly a young lady.
"Whaffer you ain't gone down dey?" inquired Tasma Tid. "Ef you kin comedis-a way, you kin go down dey."
"I was obliged to come here," responded Gabriel.
"Shoo! dem fib roll out lak dey been had grease on top um," exclaimedTasma Tid derisively. "Who been ax you fer come by dis way? 'Tis-a wehouse, dis. You better go, Misser Gable; go by dat place wey Honey Nanlive, an' look in de blin' wey you see dat Misser Frank, and dat MisserPaul Tomlin, an' watch um how dee kin make love. Maybe you kin fin' outhow fer make love you'se'f."
Gabriel laughed uneasily. "No, Tiddy Me Tas--no love-making for me. I'meither too old or too young, I forget which."
They ceased talking, for they heard footsteps outside, and the sound ofvoices. Presently some one opened the door, and it seemed from the noisethat was made, the shuffling of feet, and the repressed tones ofconversation, that a considerable number of negroes had responded to theRev. Jeremiah's invitation.
The first-comers evidently lit a candle, for a phantom-like shadow oflight trickled through a small crack in the closet door, and a faint,but unmistakable, odour of a sulphur match readied Gabriel's nostrils.There were whispered consultations, and a good deal of muffled andsubdued conversation, but every word that was distinctly enunciated wasclearly heard in the sound-box of a closet. But suddenly allconversation ceased, and complete silence took possession of thosepresent.
Gabriel Tolliver: A Story of Reconstruction Page 13
