The Bell Witch Hauntings (An Authenticated History of the Famous Bell Witch: A True Story)

by Ingram, Martin Van Buren

  Uncle Zeke's Rectification On Dem Ghosts

  Uncle Zeke, a consequential old darkey, who was very proud of the honor of being special valet to Rev. Thomas Gunn, occupied a position just above, to the right of Frank Miles, inquiringly put the question: “Mars Frank, can I have the ‘sumption to pose you a question?” “Yes, Uncle Zeke, what is it?” “Well sar, Ize bin wanting to know how dem fishes jumpin' up out der kin hear us talkin when they ain’t got no ears?” “I don't know, Uncle Zeke, but suppose it is by instinct or jar from the vibration of sound on the air; what do you think about it?” “Well sar, Mars Frank, I was just lowin' da cud see fru dat water better dan da cud hear; den sar I was lowin' too dat dar war sumpen wrong wid dem fishes out dar, cause sir, you never seed fishes jump up dat way on holiday fo dis.” “What do you think is the matter, Uncle Zeke?” “Well sar, an Injun spirit is out dar ‘mong dem fish, dats what's der matter, an they ain’t goin to bite today.” “Do you mean the old witch, Uncle Zeke?” “Dats exactly what it is, sar.” “How do you know that it's an Indian spirit?” “Well sar, dat is der ruction in der case. Do you know dat der Injuns fust had dis country and dis river, an dats why they named it Red River, cause it belonged to the red men?” “Yes, but there is another story about the naming of this river which beats that. The story is that Moses Renfroe, who brought the first white settlement to this river, himself and all of his people were slaughtered by the Indians. The savage brutes dragged the men, women and children to the river, scalped their heads and cut their throats, throwing their bodies in, causing the water to run red with blood, and the stream was after that called Red River. That is what I understand about it, Uncle Zeke, but go on with your story, about the spirit.” “Well sar, dats all der same; cause I was goin to say, the Injuns was here fust, and we white fokes drove em out, all but dem what was dead and couldn’t go, an they’s here yet in der spirit. Ize had dis conjection under consideration ever since I fust heard Mars Tom prayin fur der witch to abrogate, an it taint heard him yet, dats what. When Mars Tom Gunn prays against the spirits and hit don't abrogate, den it hain’t got no connection with Heaven.” “I think you are about right on that,” approvingly replied Mr. Miles. “Well sar, dat is der rectification of dcm ghostes in my mind. You neber heard tell of Injuns in hell then, did you, Mars Frank?” “Never did, Uncle Zeke.” “Well den, you neber seed one in hell, did you?” “No, Uncle Zeke, I have not,” returned Miles. “Needer did Mars Tom. Cause he don't pray for em; den where is they? Why sar, dem dead Injuns who lived here are here yet, cause dey ain’t got nowbar to go, an dats what's der matter. I said soon as I heard about Corban Hall diggin up dem Injun bones over dar in the bottom, dar was goin to be trouble.” “Have you ever seen the spirit, Uncle Zeke?” enquired Miles; “Dat spirit what you call der witch? Yes sar, ain’t you seed dem lights that move over the bottom on dark nights like a ball of fire? Well, dats what it is, an you better not go about der except when you got a hair ball wid fox fire in it. That’s der only way you kin fight dem spirits; jest like Dean does. Cause der Injun is like a black cat, he's got fire' in his eyes, fire in his back, an der devil in hiz neck, an you better let him alone.

  I said soon as I seed de Professor cum down here dis morning, dat dar warn’t goin to be no fish caught here today, an now you sees how dem fishes are jumpin up.” “Why, Uncle Zeke, what has the Professor got to do with it?” enquired Miles. “I tells you, Mars Frank, Ize a nigger and ain’t got no business talkin', but I knows some things dat won’t do to tell. Can't you see der spiritations in dat man's eyes? He didn’t cum here for nuttin. I haint bin round here all dis time when der Professor kept school but know something, cause I’ve turned my witch ball on der phenomiter of dem ghostes, and seed dat man sperimentin' in der ruction of der spirits by der precunious instinction of der fungus, an every time he hit de Injun flint with the back of hiz knife he kotch der fire in hiz eyes; den when he looks on dat witch gal his eyes blazes, and den melts an dat put er spell on her.” Frank Miles laughed heartily at the idea, and told Uncle Zeke that his conclusions were no doubt correct.

  During this interval, while time was swiftly passing, Joshua Gardner and Betsy Bell had not thought of their fishing tackle. They continued to occupy the velvety stratum first selected for a seat, oblivious to the merriment of their frolic some friends, and all the passing events that lent gayety to the occasion. Prof. Powell had observed that Betsy was wearing an engagement ring, and it was no doubt the sight of this token of a be trothal that inspired his remarks on taking leave of his “pet” that morning; and this was the subject that absorbed the thoughts of the lovers. They were discussing the wedding day, the far away home in the West that should soon give them welcome; the new scene that the change would bring, and the joys that awaited to bless their union. They were given entirely to the revelry of their own sweet dreams, bestow ing no attention upon the surrounding charms. They took no notice of the finny tribe that played upon the rolling waves in sight, nor to the rippling of the wandering brook that gushed wildly down the hill from the foaming fountain above. Nor were they attracted by the warbling strains of the birds in the rustling boughs overhead, or interested in any of those things that afforded so much pleasure to other members of the company. They longed for the holly, for love's own sweet home in the faraway West, where they had:

  For Cupid built a flowery castle,

  Stored with manna of pure love,

  And strung Aeolian harps to sing

  Songs of the turtle dove.

  The Phantom Fish

  Presently the sound of a mighty splashing was heard upon the waters that attracted all attention. A great fish had seized Joshua Gardner's hook with such force that it jerked the pole from the bank, and dashed off up stream, slashing the waves furiously as it rose to the top, flouncing and fluttering with great rage, and then diving to the bottom, carrying the pole under also, and instantly rising with a spurt, rushing in wild con fusion to the south bank, as if it meant to leap for the and, but just at the water's edge it darted under, bounding up stream with the pole trolling behind, between the bank and the hooks thrown out by the eager fishermen along the stream. Passing under Uncle Zeke's tackle, the big swimmer flounced again to the top, making a hurry-scurry circle, tangling the old darkies' lines with the pole, and taking another straight shoot up the river. Before Uncle Zeke could recover from the confusion, one of his poles had joined in the procession, and he was bewildered with ex citement. "Why don't you jump in, Uncle Zeke, and catch that fish and save your pole? Don't you see the fish is hung, and you are a good swimmer? Go quick, jump, plunge, and bring in the biggest fish ever caught in Red River," wildly shouted Frank Miles. This speech fired Uncle Zeke's courage to the highest pitch. He lost his head, and forgot all about the "Injun spirit” for the moment, and in less than a half minute had pulled off his coat and shoes and was in the act of jumping head-foremost into the river. But a precaution struck him, and he called a halt, carefully stepping one foot in the water, which he quickly jerked back with a shudder, and exclaiming, "I aint goin in der; I’ve done had a sentment bout dat fish, cepen its goin to fool me.” “Oh go ahead, Uncle Zeke, don't be so cowardly; you belong to Parson Gunn, and what's the difference if you should drown, you will go straight to heaven,” urged Mr. Miles.

  "Dats so, Mars Frank, I ain’t carin' nuffin bout drownin, but den whose goin to tend to Mars Tom's hoss like I does, and whose goin to brush his coat and hat an black high shoes? Cause their ain’t nary another darkey that knows how to mix der lampblack; dats what pesters me by der sentment.” In the meanwhile a more youthful and daring darkey, a little higher up, heard Mr. Miles' suggestion and plunged in, swimming to the poles that were still bobbing up and down in the water, and as he grabbed the main pole, the fish made a circle, tightening the line, and whirl ing the Negro around in the water, as it made another dash for the bank, helping the darkey to swim with greater ease and speed. But just as he reached the shore, and the excited crowd had gathered to help land th
e catch, the great fish flounced to the top, releasing itself, and was gone dashing up stream, splitting the waves, amid the shouts of excited fishermen nearly up to Gorham's mill. Now an excited discussion turned upon the antics of the monster acquatic, its size, and to which family of the finny tribe it belonged.

  One thought it was an “eel,” another said “cat fish,” another said a shark had wandered up the stream. Frank Miles declared that it was the biggest trout ever seen, but all agreed that the great finny was between two and three feet in length. William Porter observed that they had all better get to their places and bait their hooks; that the fish might return soon. The suggestion was sufficient, and pretty soon quiet was restored, every one giving strict attention to fishing. But Uncle Zeke could not suppress the inclination to whisper to Frank Miles, “I tole you so. I said sumptin war goin to happen.”

  Joshua and Betsy had been attracted from their delightful repose by the prevailing excitement, but as soon as the big finny made its escape, they returned to the beautiful sward, ostensibly to look after the remaining fishing tackle. Betsy, however, did not seem so gay and happy as she had appeared all the morning, and frankly confessed to her lover strange forebodings that depressed her feelings, but she could not explain the cause. Joshua then devoted his efforts to dispelling the gloom, as he had before done, and at the moment he had quite well succeeded, when the reverberating sound of ecstatic voices above were heard in wild exclaim, “Look out, look out, its coming back!” The breaking waves and the furious lashing of the water told the story, that the playful fish was on its return down stream, riding upon the tide, as if to catch the sunbeams that glittered upon the foamy crest. It, however, quickly disap peared, and all was quiet, every fisherman anxiously watching for a bite.

  The Lovers' Forebodings

  The dying excitement of the last appearance left the lovers in a reverie of their own thoughts, deeply meditating upon their contemplated plans, as if trying to penetrate a shadow that seemed to hang heavily over their destiny, in spite of all efforts to rise above the crest of the cloud by looking all the while at the bright side. The suspense was painful, but nothing to compare with the sound of Kate's familiar voice which immediately pierced their ears like the bursting of a thunder cloud, pleading in that same old plaintive tone, “Please Betsy Bell, don't have Joshua Gardner,” repeating the entreaty over and over, until the lovers were overwhelmed with dismay, when the melancholy voice died away gradually as the waves rolled by and were lost to sight with the passing current. The color faded from the poor girl's checks as quickly as if a dagger had pierced her bosom, and Joshua, though courageous as he had proven before on similar occasions, felt the pangs of a broken heart, and was powerless to sooth the anguish that told so plainly on his affianced.

  They sat motionless and speechless for some minutes, as if awaiting an awful doom. At last Betsy broke the silence, proposing a walk up the hillside to the spring for a drink of water. There they drank and discoursed on the excellency of the cooling draught, the beauty of the foaming bubbles that broke away in diminutive billows rushing with the trickling stream down the craggy hillside, then gathering a few wild flowers, and thus they whiled away some twenty minutes in an effort to dispel the gloomy fore bodings and regain composure, but all was in vain.

  Finally Betsy summoned the courage of her convictions, telling Joshua frankly that her mind was made up, and that she could not brook the storm which threatened all the fancied happi ness which seemed to be in store for them; that she was now clearly convinced that her tormenter would follow her through life with an appalling destiny, should she resist its importunities and dire threatenings, just as it had already afflicted her, and brought her father to suffering and unto death. Even were she able to endure it all, her compliance with his wish would be an injustice to Joshua, and a wrong for which she could never expect forgiveness. Therefore she desired to with draw her promise and return to him the engagement ring that she prized so highly. Joshua Gardner was suffering the bitterest anguish that ever pierced a heart. He had never known before the strength of his passion for the queenly beauty who stood before him in the perfection of lovely young womanhood, conscious that the stern decision had cost her as much pain as it did him, and was rendered as a sacrifice for his own welfare, as she conceived.

  He tried to plead his cause anew, but was so overwhelmed with the force of her reasoning and firmness of decision that he for the first time faltered, realizing that all hope was vain, and that every plea but added another sorrow to a bleeding heart, and a fresh pang to his own, and he gracefully accepted the inevitable, begging her to keep the ring in memory of one who loved her dearer than his own life. This she declined to do, telling him that the ring was a seal to her solemn vow, and the vow could not be broken in the sight of heaven, unless he would accept the return of the ring. “I could not,” she said, “retain it without retaining the thorn that now pierces my heart and I know Joshua that you are too generous not to accede to my wish.” Slipping it from her finger as she held out her hand, Joshua Gardner in all the bitter anguish of a broken heart, exclaimed, “Betsy, my love, the adoration of my soul, the long hope of my life, this is the bitterest draught of all, but for your sake I drink to the dregs, releasing you from the promise which I know was earnest.” Thus ended the affair in which the witch had manifested so much interest from the commencement of the “Family Trouble.”

  Very soon the three couples retraced their steps across the valley to the Bell home, amid the gay scenes of nature in the full flush of joyous Spring, but the walk was not attended by that levity and buoyancy of spirit which characterized the morning stroll. All were conscious of the shadow which hung so heavily over Betsy, depressing her happy spirit, and which had that day sent another poisonous shaft quivering to her bleeding heart, and the bowed form and dejected spirit of Joshua Gardner, which told plainly that he too carried a crushed heart in his manly bosom, and all hearts were touched too deep with burning sympathy to admit of any alacrity. It was more like going to a funeral, and the accompanying couples kept a respectful distance in the rear, discussing as they walked leisurely along the appalling sorrow which the return of the witch had brought that day.

  The lovers separated that afternoon never to meet again. A few days later, as soon as he could arrange his affairs, Joshua Gardner took his departure, several days journey to the west, and settled in West Tennessee, the place now known as Gardner's Station, Obion county, where he passed a long and honorable career, esteemed by the people for his true manhood and moral worth. He died several years ago at the advanced age of eighty-four years.

  The weird fiend, cast the scene,

  Lurid with the seer's blight.

  And hope forlorn, shadowed the morn

  With the gloom of night.

  Thus the sequel, young love unequal

  To the wizard's subtle art.

  And dreamers await, the hand of fate,

  While despondency sears the heart.

  The lovers parted, weary, broken-hearted,

  Cruel fate coming between.

  The blasting frost, the appalling ghost,

  Chilled the bower of green.

  The flowers withered, the castle quivered

  When Cupid fled the scene.

  And the beautiful tower, lovers bower

  Became a fading, crumbling sheen.

  Seizing the wreck, scuttling the deck

  Witches vaunted ghoulish spleen.

  The vile freak, with exulting shriek

  Cavorted the dale unseen.

  The jack-o-lantern glare, flitted the air.

  O'er the valley of doom.

  And the pall of night, shadowed beacon light

  Filling the vale with gloom.

  Down the hill and o'er the rill

  Horrid spirits delighted to prowl,

  The piercing thrill, of whippoorwill,

  Giving place to the hooting owl.

  From the mill and old still

  Came so
ngs of the weird,

  Voices shrill, with horrible trill

  Hushing the joyous mocking bird.

  The old pear tree, hoary it be,

  Still shadows the happy scene,

  Spreading its boughs, over the vows

  Witnessed beneath its green.

  Where lovers plighted, hearts united,

  The vows they would redeem.

  And continues weeping, lovers sleeping,