The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  “You don’t know whether he has any friends anywhere in the Confederacy to whom he would be likely to go?”

  “I don’t know about friends, sir; but I know he has told me he was overseer, or partner, or something of that sort, in a small station down in the swamps of South Carolina. I should think, from things he has let drop, that the slaves must have had a bad time of it. I rather fancy he made the place too hot for him, and had to leave; but that was only my impression.”

  “In that case he may possibly have made his way back there,” Vincent said. “I have particular reasons for wishing to find out. You don’t know anything about the name of the place?” The man shook his head.

  “He never mentioned the name in my hearing.”

  “Well, I must try to find out, but I don’t quite see how to set about it,” Vincent said. “By the way, do you know where his clothes were sent to?”

  “Yes; the man said that he was to take them to Harker’s Hotel. It’s a second-rate hotel not far from the railway station.”

  “Thank you. That will help me. I know the house. It was formerly used by Northern drummers and people of that sort.”

  After riding back to Richmond and putting up his horse, Vincent went to the hotel there. Although but a secondary hotel it was well filled, for people from all parts of the Confederacy resorted to Richmond, and however much trade suffered, the hotels of the town did a good business. He first went up to the clerk in a little office at the entrance.

  “You had a man named Pearson,” he said, “staying here about a month ago. Will you be good enough to tell me on what day he left?”

  The clerk turned to the register, and said after a minute’s examination:

  “He came on the 14th of November, and he left on the 20th.”

  This was two days after the date on which Dinah had been carried off.

  In American hotels the halls are large and provided with seats, and are generally used as smoking and reading-rooms by the male visitors to the hotel. At Harker’s Hotel there was a small bar at the end of the hall, and a black waiter supplied the wants of the guests seated at the various little tables. Vincent seated himself at one of these and ordered something to drink. As the negro placed it on the table he said:

  “I will give you a dollar if you will answer a few questions.”

  “Very good, sah. Dat am a mighty easy way to earn a dollar.”

  “Do you remember, about a month ago, a man named Pearson being here?”

  The negro shook his head.

  “Me not know de names of de gentlemen, sah. What was de man like?”

  “He was tall and thin, with short hair and a gray goatee—a regular Yankee.”

  “Me remember him, sah. Dar used to be plenty ob dat sort here. Don’t see dem much now. Me remember de man, sah, quite well. Used to pass most of de day here. Didn’t seem to have nuffin to do.”

  “Was he always alone, or did he have many people here to see him?”

  “Once dar war two men here wid him, sah, sitting at dat table ober in de corner. Rough-looking fellows dey war. In old times people like dat wouldn’t come to a ’spectable hotel, but now most ebery one got rough clothes, can’t get no others, so one don’t tink nuffin about it; but dose fellows was rough-looking besides dar clothes. Didn’t like dar looks nohow. Dey only came here once. Dey was de only strangers that came to see him. But once Massa Jackson—me know him by sight—he came here and talk wid him for a long time. Earnest sort of talk dat seemed to be. Dey talk in low voice, and I noticed dey stopped talking when any one sat down near dem.”

  “You don’t know where he went to from here, I suppose?”

  “No, sah, dat not my compartment. Perhaps de outside porter will know. Like enough he take his tings in hand-truck to station. You like to see him, sah?”

  “Yes, I should like to have a minute’s talk with him. Here is your dollar.”

  The waiter rang a bell, and a minute later the outdoor porter presented himself.

  “You remember taking some tings to station for a tall man wid gray goatee, Pomp?” the waiter asked. “It was more dan tree weeks ago. I tink he went before it was light in de morning. Me seem to remember dat.”

  The negro nodded.

  “Me remember him bery well, sah. Tree heavy boxes and one bag, and he only give me quarter dollar for taking dem to de station. Mighty mean man dat.”

  “Do you know what train he went by?”

  “Yes, sah, it was de six o’clock train for de souf.”

  “You can’t find out wher his luggage was checked for?”

  “I can go down to station, sah, and see if I can find out. Some of de men dar may remember.”

  “Here is a dollar for yourself,” Vincent said, “and another to give to any of the men who can give you the news. When you have found out come and tell me. Here is my card and address.”

  “Bery well, sah. Next time me go up to station me find about it, for sure, if any one remember dat fellow.”

  In the evening the negro called at the house and told Vincent that he had ascertained that a man answering to his description and having luggage similar to that of Pearson had had it checked to Florence in South Carolina.

  Vincent now called Dan into his counsel and told him what he had discovered. The young negro had already given proof of such intelligence that he felt sure his opinion would be of value.

  “Dat all bery plain, sah,” Dan said when Vincent finished his story. “Me no doubt dat old rascal Jackson give money to Pearson to carry off de gal. Ob course he did it just to take revenge upon Tony. Pearson he go into de plot, because, in de fust place, it vex Missy Wingfield and you bery much; in de second place, because Jackson gib him money; in de third place, because he get hold of negro slave worf a thousand dollar. Dat all quite clear. He not do it himself, but arrange wid oder fellows, and he stop quiet at de hotel for two days after she gone so dat no one can ’spect his having hand in de affair.”

  “That is just how I make it out, Dan; and now he has gone off to join them.”

  Dan thought for some time.

  “Perhaps dey join him dar, sah, perhaps not; perhaps him send him baggage on there and get out somewhere on de road and meet them.”

  “That is likely enough, Dan. No doubt Dinah was taken away in a cart or buggy. As she left two days before he did, they may have gone from forty to sixty miles along the road, to some place where he may have joined them. The men who carried her off may either have come back or gone on with him. If they wanted to go south they would go on; if they did not, he would probably have only hired them to carry her off and hand her over to him when he overtook them. I will look at the timetable and see where that train stops. It is a fast train, I see,” he said, after consulting it; it stops at Petersburg, fifteen miles on, and at Hicks Ford, which is about fifty miles. I should think the second place was most likely, as the cart could easily have got there in two days. Now, Dan, you had better start tomorrow morning, and spend two days there if necessary; find out if you can if on the twentieth of last month any one noticed a vehicle of any kind, with two rough men in it, and with, perhaps, a negro woman. She might not have been noticed, for she may have been lying tied up in the bottom of the cart, although it is more likely they frightened her by threats into sitting up quiet with them. They are sure not to have stopped at any decent hotel, but will have gone to some small place, probably just outside the town.

  “I will go with you to Mr. Renfrew the first thing in the morning and get him to draw up a paper testifying that you are engaged in lawful business, and are making inquiries with a view to discovering a crime which has been committed, and recommending you to the assistance of the police in any town you may go to. Then if you go with that to the head constable at Hicks Ford he will tell you which are the places at which such fellows as these would have been likely to put up for the night, and perhaps send a policeman with you to make inquiries. If you get any news telegraph to me at once. I will start by the six o’clock tr
ain on the following morning. Do you be on the platform to meet me, and we can then either go straight on to Florence, or, should there be any occasion, I will get out there; but I don’t think that is likely. Pearson himself will, to a certainty, sooner or later, go to Florence to get his luggage, and the only real advantage we shall get if your inquiries are successful will be to find out for certain whether he is concerned in the affair. We shall then only have to follow his traces from Florence.”

  Two days later Mr. Renfrew received a telegram from the head constable at Hicks Ford: “The two men with cart spent day here, 20th ult. Were joined that morning by another man—negro says Pearson. One man returned afternoon, Richmond. Pearson and the other drove off in buggy. A young negress and child were with them. Is there anything I can do?”

  Mr. Renfrew telegraphed back to request that the men, who were kidnaping the female slave, should if possible be traced and the direction they took ascertained. He then sent the message across to Vincent, who at once went to his office.

  “Now,” the lawyer said, “you must do nothing rashly in this business, Vincent. They are at the best of time a pretty rough lot at the edge of these Carolina swamps, and at present things are likely to be worse than usual. If you were to go alone on such an errand you would almost certainly be shot. In the first place, these fellows would not give up a valuable slave without a struggle; and in the next place, they have committed a very serious crime. Therefore it is absolutely necessary that you should go armed with legal powers and backed by the force of the law. In the first place, I will draw up an affidavit and sign it myself, to the effect that a female slave, the property of Vincent Wingfield, has, with her male child, been kidnaped and stolen by Jonas Pearson and others acting in association with him, and that we have reason to know that she has been conveyed into South Carolina. This I will get witnessed by a justice of the peace, and will then take it up to Government House. There I will get the usual official request to the governor of South Carolina to issue orders that the aid of the law shall be given to you in recovering the said Dinah Morris and her child and arresting her abductors. You will obtain an order to this effect from the governor, and armed with it you will, as soon as you have discovered where the woman is, call upon the sheriff of the county to aid you in recovering her, and in arresting Pearson and his associates.”

  “Thank you, sir. That will certainly be the best way. I run plenty of risk in doing my duty as an officer of the state, and I have no desire whatever to throw my life away at the hands of ruffians such as Pearson and his allies.”

  Two hours later Vincent received from Mr. Renfrew the official letter to the governor of South Carolina, and at six o’clock next morning started for Florence. On the platform of the station at Hicks Ford Dan was waiting for him.

  “Jump into the car at the end, Dan; I will come to you there, and you can tell me all the news. We are going straight on to Columbia. Now, Dan,” Vincent went on when he joined him—for in no part of the United States were negroes allowed to travel in any but the cars set apart for them—“what is your news? The chief constable telegraphed that they had, as we expected, been joined by Pearson here.”

  “Yes, sah, dey war here for sure. When I get here I go straight to de constable and tell him dat I was in search of two men who had kidnaped Captain Wingfield’s slave. De head constable he Richmond man, and ob course knew all about de family; so he take de matter up at once and send constable wid me to seberal places where it likely dat the fellows had put up, but we couldn’t find nuffin about dem. Den next morning we go out again to village four mile out of de town on de north road, and dere we found sure ’nough dat two men, wid negro wench and chile, had stopped dere. She seem bery unhappy and cry all de time. De men say dey bought her at Richmond, and show de constable of de village de paper dat dey had bought a female slave Sally Moore and her chile. De constable speak to woman, but she seem frightened out of her life and no say anything. Dey drive off wid her early in de morning. Den we make inquiries again at de town and at de station. We find dat a man like Pearson get out. He had only little hand-bag with him. He ask one of de men at de station which was de way to de norf road. Den we find dat one of de constables hab seen a horse and cart wid two men in it, with negro woman and child. One of de men look like Yankee—dat what make him take notice of it. We s’pose dat oder man went back to Richmond again.”

  “That is all right, Dan, and you have done capitally. Now at Florence we will take up the hunt. It is a long way down there; and if they drive all the way, as I hope they will, it will take them a fortnight, so that we shall have gained a good deal of time on them. The people at the station are sure to remember the three boxes that lay there for so long without being claimed. Of course they may have driven only till they got fairly out of reach. Then they may either have sold the horse and trap, or the fellow Pearson has with him may have driven it back. But I should think they would most likely sell it. In that case they would not be more than a week from the time they left Richmond to the time they took train again for the south. However, whether they have got a fortnight or three weeks’ start of us will not make much difference. With the description we can give of Pearson, and the fact that there was a negress and child, and those three boxes, we ought to be able to trace him.”

  It was twelve at night when the train arrived at Florence. As nothing could be done until next morning Vincent went to an hotel. As soon as the railway officials were likely to be at their offices he was at the station again. The tip of a dollar secured the attention of the man in the baggage-room.

  “Three boxes and a black bag came on here a month ago, you say, and lay here certainly four or five days—perhaps a good deal longer. Of course I remember them. Stood up in that corner there. They had been checked right through. I will look at the books and see what day they went. I don’t remember what sort of men fetched them away. Maybe I was busy at the time, and my mate gave them out. However, I will look first and see when they went. What day do you say they got here?”

  “They came by the train that left Richmond at six o’clock on the morning of the 20th.”

  “Then they got in late that night or early next morning. Ah, the train was on time that day, and got in at half-past nine at night. Here they are—three boxes and a bag, numbers 15020, went out on the 28th. Yes, that’s right enough. Now I will just ask my mate if he remembers about their going out.”

  The other man was called. Oh, yes, he remembered quite well the three boxes standing in the corner. They went out some time in the afternoon. It was just after the train came in from Richmond. He noticed the man that asked for them. He got him to help carry out the boxes and put them into a cart. Yes, he remembered there was another man with him, and a negress with a child. He wondered at the time what they were up to, but supposed it was all right. Yes, he didn’t mind trying to find out who had hired out a cart for the job. Dessay he could find out by tomorrow—at any rate he would try. Five dollars are worth earning anyway.

  Having put this matter in train, Vincent, leaving Dan at Florence, went down at once to Charleston. Here, after twenty-four hours’ delay, he obtained a warrant for the arrest of Jonas Pearson and others on the charge of kidnaping, and then returned to Florence. He found that the railway man had failed in obtaining any information as to the cart, and concluded it must have come in from the country on purpose to meet the train.

  “At any rate,” Vincent said, “it must be within a pretty limited range of country. The railway makes a bend from Wilmington to this place and then down to Charleston, so this is really the nearest station to only a small extent of country.”

  “That’s so,” the railway man said. He had heard from Dan a good deal about the case, and had got thoroughly interested in it. “Either Marion or Kingstree would be nearer, one way or the other, to most of the swamp country. So it can’t be as far as Conwayborough on the north or Georgetown on the south, and it must lie somewhere between Jeffries’ Creek and Lynch’s Creek; anyhow
it would be in Marion County—that’s pretty nigh sure. So if I were you I would take rail back to Marion Court house, and see the sheriff there and have a talk over the matter with him. You haven’t got much to go upon, because this man you are after has been away from here a good many years and won’t be known; besides, likely enough he went by some other name down here. Anyhow, the sheriff can put you up to the roads, and the best way of going about the job.”

  “I think that would be the best way,” Vincent said. “We shall be able to see the county map too and to learn all the geography of the place.”

  “You have got your six-shooters with you, I suppose, because you are as likely as not to have to use them?”

  “Yes, we have each got a Colt; and as I have had a good deal of practice, it would be awkward for Pearson if he gives me occasion to use it.”

  “After what I hear of the matter,” the man said, “I should say your best plan is just to shoot him at sight. It’s what would serve him right. You bet there will be no fuss over it. It will save you a lot of trouble anyway.”

  Vincent laughed.

  “My advice is good,” the man went on earnestly. “They are a rough lot down there, and hang together. You will have to do it sudden, whatever you do, or you will get the hull neighborhood up agin you.”

  On reaching Marion Courthouse they sought out the sheriff, produced the warrant signed by the States’ authority, and explained the whole circumstances.

  “I am ready to aid you in any way I can,” the sheriff said when he concluded; “but the question is, where has the fellow got to? You see he may be anywhere in this tract;” and he pointed out a circle on the map of the county that hung against the wall. “That is about fifty mile across, and a pretty nasty spot, I can tell you. There are wide swamps on both sides of the creek, and rice grounds and all sorts. There ain’t above three or four villages altogether, but there may be two or three hundred little plantations scattered about, some big and some little. We haven’t got anything to guide us in the slightest, not a thing, as I can see.”