The Sins of the Father: A Romance of the South

by Thomas Dixon

  CHAPTER VI

  A TRAITOR'S RUSE

  The old Governor had made a correct guess on the line of action his littleScalawag successor in high office would take when confronted by the crisisof the morning.

  The Clansmen had left the two beams projecting through the windows of thenorth and south wings of the Capitol. A hangman's noose swung from eachbeam's end.

  When His Excellency drove into town next morning and received the news ofthe startling events of the night, he ordered a double guard of troops forhis office and another for his house.

  Old Governor Carteret called at ten o'clock and was ushered immediatelyinto the executive office. No more striking contrast could be imaginedbetween two men of equal stature. Their weight and height were almost thesame, yet they seemed to belong to different races of men. The Scalawagofficial hurried to meet his distinguished caller--a man whoseadministration thirty years ago was famous in the annals of the state.

  The acting Governor seemed a pigmy beside his venerable predecessor. Theonly prominent feature of the Scalawag's face was his nose. Its size shouldhave symbolized strength, yet it didn't. It seemed to project straight infront in a way that looked ridiculous--as if some one had caught it with apair of tongs, tweaked and pulled it out to an unusual length. It waselongated but not impressive. His mouth was weak, his chin small andretreating and his watery ferret eyes never looked any one straight in theface. The front of his head was bald and sloped backward at an angle. Hishair was worn in long, thin, straight locks which he combed often in a vaineffort to look the typical long-haired Southern gentleman of the oldschool.

  His black broadcloth suit with a velvet collar and cuffs fitted his slightfigure to perfection and yet failed to be impressive. The failure wasdoubtless due to his curious way of walking about a room. Sometimessideways like a crab or a crawfish, and when he sought to be impressive,straight forward with an obvious jerk and an effort to appear dignified.

  He was the kind of a man an old-fashioned negro, born and bred in the homesof the aristocratic regime of slavery, would always laugh at. His attemptto be a gentleman was so obvious a fraud it could deceive no one.

  "I am honored, Governor Carteret, by your call this morning," he cried withforced politeness. "I need the advice of our wisest men. I appreciate yourcoming."

  The old Governor studied the Scalawag for a moment calmly and said:

  "Thank you."

  When shown to his seat the older man walked with the unconscious dignity ofa man born to rule, the lines of his patrician face seemed cut from a cameoin contrast with the rambling nondescript features of the person who walkedwith a shuffle beside him. It required no second glance at the cleanruffled shirt with its tiny gold studs, the black string tie, the polishedboots and gold-headed cane to recognize the real gentleman of the oldschool. And no man ever looked a second time at his Roman nose and massivechin and doubted for a moment that he saw a man of power, of iron will andfierce passions.

  "I have called this morning, Governor," the older man began with sharpemphasis, "to advise you to revoke at once your proclamation suspending the_writ_ of _habeas corpus_. Your act was a blunder--a colossal blunder! Weare not living in the Dark Ages, sir--even if you were elected by a negroconstituency! Your act is four hundred years out of date in theEnglish-speaking world."

  The Scalawag began his answer by wringing his slippery hands:

  "I realize, Governor Carteret, the gravity of my act. Yet grave dangerscall for grave remedies. You see from the news this morning the conditionof turmoil into which reckless men have plunged the state."

  The old man rose, crossed the room and confronted the Scalawag, his eyesblazing, his uplifted hand trembling with passion:

  "The breed of men with whom you are fooling have not submitted to such anact of tyranny from their rulers for the past three hundred years. Youreffort to set the negro up as the ruler of the white race is the act of amadman. Revoke your order to-day or the men who opened that jail last nightwill hang you----"

  The Governor laughed lamely:

  "A cheap bluff, sir, a schoolboy's threat!"

  The older man drew closer:

  "A cheap bluff, eh? Well, when you say your prayers to-night, don't forgetto thank your Maker for two things--that He sent a storm yesterday thatmade Buffalo creek impassable and that I reached its banks in time!"

  The little Scalawag paled and his voice was scarcely a whisper:

  "Why--why, what do you mean?"

  "That I reached the ford in time to stop a hundred desperate men who werestanding there in the dark waiting for its waters to fall that they mightcross and hang you from that beam's end you call a cheap bluff! That Istood there in the moonlight with my arm around their leader for nearly anhour begging, praying, pleading for your damned worthless life! They gaveit to me at last because I asked it. No other man could have saved you.Your life is mine to-day! But for my solemn promise to those men that youwould revoke that order your body would be swinging at this moment from theCapitol window--will you make good my promise?"

  "I'll--I'll consider it," was the waning answer.

  "Yes or no?"

  "I'll think it over, Governor Carteret--I'll think it over," the tremblingvoice repeated. "I must consult my friends----"

  "I won't take that answer!" the old man thundered in his face. "Revoke thatproclamation here and now, or, by the Lord God, I'll send a message tothose men that'll swing you from the gallows before the sun rises to-morrowmorning!"

  "I've got my troops----"

  "A hell of a lot of troops they are! Where were they last night--theloafing, drunken cowards? You can't get enough troops in this town to saveyou. Revoke that proclamation or take your chances!"

  The old Governor seized his hat and walked calmly toward the door. TheScalawag trembled, and finally said:

  "I'll take your advice, sir--wait a moment until I write the order."

  The room was still for five minutes, save for the scratch of the Governor'spen, as he wrote his second famous proclamation, restoring the civil rightsof the people. He signed and sealed the document and handed it to hiswaiting guest:

  "Is that satisfactory?"

  The old man adjusted his glasses, read each word carefully, and repliedwith dignity:

  "Perfectly--good morning!"

  The white head erect, the visitor left the executive chamber without aglance at the man he despised.

  The Governor had given his word, signed and sealed his solemn proclamation,but he proved himself a traitor to the last.

  With the advice of his confederates he made a last desperate effort to gainhis end of holding the leaders of the opposition party in jail by a quickshift of method. He wired orders to every jailer to hold the men untilwarrants were issued for their arrest by one of his negro magistrates ineach county and wired instructions to the clerk of the court to admit noneof them to bail no matter what amount offered.

  The charges on which these warrants were issued were, in the main,preposterous perjuries by the hirelings of the Governor. There was noexpectation that they would be proven in court. But if they could holdthese prisoners until the election was over the little Scalawag believedthe Klan could be thus intimidated in each district and the negro tickettriumphantly elected.

  The Governor was explicit in his instructions to the clerk of the court inthe Capital county that under no conceivable circumstances should he acceptbail for the editor of the _Eagle and Phoenix_.

  The Governor's proclamation was issued at noon and within an hour a deputysheriff appeared at Norton's office and served his warrant charging thepreposterous crime of "Treason and Conspiracy" against the stategovernment.

  Norton's hundred picked men were already lounging in the Court HouseSquare. When the deputy appeared with his prisoner they quietly closed inaround him and entered the clerk's room in a body. The clerk was dumfoundedat the sudden packing of his place with quiet, sullen looking, armed men.Their revolvers were in front and the men were nervously fingering
thehandles.

  The clerk had been ordered by the Governor under no circumstances to acceptbail, and he had promised with alacrity to obey. But he changed his mind atthe sight of those revolvers. Not a word was spoken by the men and thesilence was oppressive. The frightened official mopped his brow and triedto leave for a moment to communicate with the Capitol. He found itimpossible to move from his desk. The men were jammed around him in animpenetrable mass. He looked over the crowd in vain for a friendly face.Even the deputy who had made the arrest had been jostled out of the roomand couldn't get back.

  The editor looked at the clerk steadily for a moment and quietly asked:

  "What amount of bail do you require?"

  The officer smiled wanly:

  "Oh, major, it's just a formality with you, sir; a mere nominal sum of $500will be all right."

  "Make out your bond," the editor curtly ordered. "My friends here will signit."

  "Certainly, certainly, major," was the quick answer. "Have a seat, sir,while I fill in the blank."

  "I'll stand, thank you," was the quick reply.

  The clerk's pen flew while he made out the forbidden bail which set atliberty the arch enemy of the Governor. When it was signed and the daringyoung leader quietly walked out the door, a cheer from a hundred men rentthe air.

  The shivering clerk cowered in his seat over his desk and pretended to bevery busy. In reality he was breathing a prayer of thanks to God forsparing his life and registering a solemn vow to quit politics and go backto farming.

  The editor hurried to his office and sent a message to each district leaderof the Klan to secure bail for the accused men in the same quiet manner.