“Then you know nothing about him?”
“No more than I have told you, my darling.”
“Well, Aunt Cli, good-b’ye; but mind, don’t show yourself, for I’ve got a first-rate planter with me, and he mustn’t hear such a figure as you Jonathaning and clearing me up. Good-b’ye — keep close — we shall be off in a jiffy.”
With this tender farewell he departed, and was followed by a shower of blessings from the humble-minded Clio, who had neither pride nor vanity excepting for him, and who would willingly at any time have crept into the coalhole, and remained there patiently till he bade her come out again; could she have spared him a feeling of mortification thereby, and that without ever thinking it possible that the moral nature of the request might be defective.
The sight of Cæsar however, the very identical slave who had made the appointment, drove even from the mind of the vain and cautious Whitlaw every lesser thought; and no sooner had he left the store, than he led Smith into it, saying with abrupt and forgetful eagerness, “Aunt Cli, whose slave is that?”
“He’s owned by Master Steinmark, Jona — ; I mean, he’s Mr. Steinmark’s slave, sir.”
“Mr. Steinmark’s slave? Why, what’s in the wind now? I thought the Steinmarks were known to have said over and over that they never would own a slave?”
“And that’s true too, Jona — sir. This young man is the first and the only one they ever bought.”
The two gentlemen exchanged very meaning glances.
“They bought him, did they?” pursued Whitlaw. “Who did they buy him of?”
“’Tis a curious kind thing of ’em, if all’s true as, is said about it,” answered the innocent Clio, who would not for anything — no, not even to please her darling Jonathan, have uttered a word that could have been injurious to the Steinmarks: “curious kind, and just like ’em! for you see he was a runaway slave from New Orlines, and ’twas just for that very reason and no other that Master Steinmark bought him, at least that’s what the old German shepherd said here one day, and I expect it’s no more than the truth; and a curious sight of money he gave for him too; and now, you see, he’s safe and out of all mischief, and may snap his fingers, mayn’t he, at his old master?”
“That’s coming to the point anyhow, I expect — eh, Smith?” was Whitlaw’s remark as he left the store.
“Plain as a pike-staff,” answered his friend. “If we can’t do something here, ‘twill be queer. I say, Whitlaw, who’s that old woman in the store? What was it you called her?”
“The old woman? Oh, that’s my father’s old — My eye! now I think of it, Smith, what a glorious job it will be if we can make this story out to be true, and catch the whole batch of ’em preaching and praying, with the niggers beside, won’t it?”
“I expect it will, Mr. Whitlaw. But above all things we must get hold of Hogstown: he’s the man to make the most onto God grant he may be back from New Orlines to-morrow, or we shall be stumpt after all.”
“Not we, Mr. Smith, not we. I wish Hogstown back, that’s a fact, ‘cause he’s first-rate at giving the white people a notion of what they ought to be doing; but it don’t follow that we’ll be stumpt, even if the Sabbath comes round without him. Why the thing lies in a nut-shell, and I guess that without Lynch-law at all we could carry it through, Mr. Smith, and bring these devilish Germans to the grindstone every nose of ’em, and that by regular State-law and nothing else.”
Mr. Smith replied to this by laying his forefinger on his lip, and nodding his head with much occult meaning.
“You be careful, my young friend, if you please, how you get upon that lay. It’s all very well to speak of State-law when needs must, and to make a talkification in Congress about our respect for the laws, and our reverence for the laws, and our obedience to the constitution, and all that. This is all very well in the right place, and that’s at Washington. Not that they seem over particular about the matter there either; but at any rate, trust me that out here, the nearer we can get to having the law and the gospel too in our own hands, the better it will be for us; and, by G-d! we’ll have a try at it both ways at this Sabbath meeting, and that without troubling the State about it, my good friend.”
To this spirited view of the case our hero willingly acceded, declaring himself ready and willing to go through fire and water in such a cause and with such a leader. At a short distance from the town they separated; Whitlaw directing his horse to Paradise Plantation, where, as he well knew, he should find a well-pleased auditor in the colonel of all he had to communicate; and Mr. Smith repairing to the residence of Hogstown, to ascertain if possible the time of his return, being anxious to go in company with this intelligent and able assistant to reconnoitre the spot described by Cæsar as the place of meeting for his interview with the fair Lucy, and, what was much more import ant, the place of rendezvous for her brother’s preaching.
Whitlaw, as usual, found his patron disposed to welcome his return very cordially. The rich man, indeed, appeared every day to enjoy his own company less, and a severe attack of having confined him for some days to his own room, the presence of dyspepsia his confidential clerk was more than ever agreeable.
It happened, moreover, that the colonel also had news to communicate; a circumstance which to one of his disposition is a real blessing if they are fortunate enough to find some one meet to receive it, but which becomes a positive torment if they do not.
Before Whitlaw had time to announce the very important intelligence that they had all but got a preacher in their clutches, Colonel Dart had set off at full speed to recount his own adventure.
“That d — d witch has been here again, Whitlaw. Upon my soul I don’t know what to make of her. It would be nothing but downright stupid obstinacy to doubt that she knows a cursed deal more than she has any business to know, that’s a fact: and if the devil does not help her to it, ’twould be hard to say who did.”
Whitlaw, who remembered the meeting at New Orleans, was by no means disposed to dispute this opinion, and replied, “True enough, sir, true enough. Has she been telling you anything new?”
“Telling me? Confound her! she does nothing but puzzle and bother me with all her tellings: and yet there’s no man in his senses, I expect, who would choose to send her off without minding her.”
“To be sure, sir, there’s no doubt of it. But what has she been saying?” said Whitlaw eagerly, suspecting that she had probably been giving some mysterious hints of the approaching discovery.
“I have never yet had time since you came back from Orlines,” replied the colonel, “to tell you of the queer game she played here about a runaway slave from Oglevie’s — and I must tell that another time now, for I’ve got—”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Whitlaw suddenly; “she knew of that too, did she? — and she brought word of it here? — It’s positive clear, colonel, that woman must not be treated with disrespect — she knows all, and the devil puts her in our interest, that’s a fact.”
“Well, I expect so, Whitlaw. But now jest listen. She came to me to-day, and told me in so many words that I must accept an offer I should receive to-morrow morning from a farmer, a German, I think, a few miles off, for the purchase of a gal of mine; — by the way, Whitlaw, that very gal that you told me that comical flogging story about. Well, she says that this old German will offer to buy her, and that, let him offer what he will, I must accept it and let her go.”
“Possible!” cried Whitlaw with much solemnity. “Whether ’tis a devil or an angel as sets her to work, sir, I won’t pretend to say, but the old witch is true as steel to us; there’s no misdoubting her — I see the whole plot as clear as the sun at noonday. Juno, you see, has contrived to get that rebel runaway into her clutches, as sure as ever cat did a mouse; and now, cunning old soul! she’s for setting that Phebe, who no more dare disobey her than disobey you, as a watch and a spy over him and his master too. Egad! she is a witch, colonel, and a capital one too; and I’d not be the man to cross her, I prom
ise you.”
The conversation then proceeded in the most explicit and satisfactory manner possible; and it became clearly manifest to the comprehension of both gentlemen that they were in a fair way, by help of their inestimable ally Juno, of speedily putting a stop, in their own neighbourhood at least, to all the danger which threatened them from the wicked attempts of ill-disposed persons to “christianize and instruct the niggers.”
CHAPTER VII.
MRS. SHEPHERD was a better plotter in principle than in practice. No one could be more true, heart and soul, to a cause than was this lady to that which now occupied the attention of the American slave-holders. Though not greatly addicted to indifference respecting her gains, she would willingly have sacrificed many solid dollars, could she thereby have ensured the peaceable continuance of slavery in her native State forever. But in critical circumstances, such as now occupied the active supporters of the system, it is not enough to ensure success in the ticklish measures undertaken, that all those made acquainted with them should be faithful and true in their principles — they must also be cautious and prudent in their practice; and this Mrs. Shepherd was not.
Hardly had the two men left her store, than she yielded to the temptation that assailed her, and again summoning Miss Tomkins to fill her presiding chair there, walked into the room where all her “young ladies” were assembled, for the express purpose of bringing Lucy to shame and confusion by making known her horrible delinquency to her companions.
The poor girl was as usual assiduously at work, but with a countenance more cheerful than usual. Her own situation, indeed, was in nowise altered or mended; and notwithstanding the good-will she had won from nearly all her companions, and the real affection of the pretty creature whose room she shared, this was miserable and cheerless enough. But the happy prospects of Cæsar and Phebe delighted her, and a gentle smile was on her lip when the grim Mrs. Shepherd entered and thus addressed her:
“So, miss! — you’re grinning, are ye?— ’Tis you, you unnatural abomination of a nigger-fancier, that I’m speaking to — you Bligh girl, you! — See to her audacious impudence! — if she doesn’t look up right in my face! Keep off, ladies — don’t touch her, whatever you do. I am bound by my duty to those whose goodness takes care of us, not to turn the monster out of my house till all the hellish plot is ripe — or maybe she’d be giving notice, and some of those might escape as, thank God! are marked for destruction. — But though I’ll take care to keep her close enough, there’s no need, ladies, that you should any of you come within the touch of her.”
The astonished Lucy through the whole of this speech continued to keep her eyes fixed on the speaker, as did also every other person in the room. Having paused for a moment to witness and watch the effect she had produced, Mrs. Shepherd lowered her voice, already hoarse with her vehemence, and addressing the lookers-on in a whining tone, she said— “Don’t you pity me, ladies? — Such a house as mine! — when did ever shame enter it before? And now will you credit and believe that two gentlemen of the first standing in Natchez have this day heard with their own ears a love-meeting made and settled between that horrid creature there, Lucy Bligh, and a beastly black nigger-man!”
“It is an infamous falsehood!” said Lucy, rising, and looking round her with eyes that seemed to appeal to her young companions for support under this insulting accusation; “a most wicked falsehood. Are there any here who believe it?”
“I’m sure I don’t, Miss Bligh,” said three young voices in chorus.
“You don’t?” cried Mrs. Shepherd in a rage. “Then come with me, ladies, all three of you, and I’ll jest show you how I come by my knowledge of it, — and then say you don’t believe it!”
Every soul in the room followed her out of it except poor Lucy, who now totally overpowered by the, situation in which she found herself, dropped again upon her chair and wept bitterly. While the curious females were engaged in a careful and edifying examination of the very grating through the bars of which the horrible conversation had been overheard, the unhappy girl had time to recollect all the circumstances that had really occurred, and the very dangerous words which had passed between herself and Cæsar — not, indeed, of the nature so vilely suspected, but sufficient, as she well knew, to expose her brother, as well as his helpless congregation, to great peril. She was rapidly arranging in her head the readiest means of giving Edward and the poor negroes notice that they must again suspend their meeting, when the female troop re-entered the room, the two seniors of the party fully convinced of her guilt, two or three others suspecting or fearing it, and those — even those whose hearts acquitted her, too much shocked and terrified by the nature of the accusation, and the strength of the evidence, to again venture upon raising their voices in her favour.
“And now, ladies,” resumed the triumphant Mrs. Shepherd, “now that you all see that I have said no more than I am able to prove, have the kindness to tell me, some of you, how the creature contrived to get out of your sight and into that lane to meet the nasty nigger fellow?”
“I can answer that,” said her sallow deputy. “Don’t you remember, ladies, how she got up, and walked out of the room in her impudent independent way, as much as to say, ‘I care for nobody’? And don’t you remember into the bargain, that it was the minute after that little toad Dido come in, nobody knows for why, for I’m positive sure nobody called her. And don’t you all remember how she poked the tray with the water in amongst the work just close to Miss Bligh? And how much will you lay, any of you, that the varment didn’t speak to her, and tell her that her blackamoor sweetheart was out there?”
“That’s the way, was it?” cried Mrs. Shepherd in a perfect ecstasy of rage; “that’s the way she has been corrupting my property, and bringing slave rebellion and insurrection into my very house! Call in the black viper, one of you: I’ll see whether we can’t tame her before worse comes of it.”
The little trembling Dido was immediately brought before this dread tribunal, and the scene that followed cannot be dwelt upon. The strength of more than one active and practised female arm was exhausted in lacerating the back and limbs of the unfortunate child whose ill-timed good-nature had produced such terrible results. Lucy, who was as little used to such a spectacle as if she had been born and bred in that happy land where none for an instant can respire the breath of life and remain a slave, — poor Lucy, in the agony of her soul at this spectacle, not only attempted to interpose an ineffectual effort to prevent it, but uttered words of such indignant reprobation at the executions, as certainly convinced all present that she was in truth an enemy in that camp where slavery was held to be the sovereign good and sovereign safety.
“You hear her, ladies! Now do you all believe it? And is this a cretur to be left at liberty among slaves and niggers? Be very sure that we shouldn’t be long safe in our beds if this wasn’t looked to. I’ll send express for Mr. Smith and Mr. Hogstown outright, and they’ll say better than we can what ought to be done with her. She’s joined in a rebellion with ’em against the State, that’s clear at any rate; and I expect she’ll have to go to prison without delay.”
It was no terror for herself that drove the blood from the cheeks and lips of Lucy, and left her pale as marble. She had never moved anyone to rebellion; no such act could be proved against her, and she feared it not. But if her brother were indeed discovered in the act of secretly addressing Louisianian slaves in the dead of night, his life might be the sacrifice, and no safety found in the pure and holy object that he had in view. She remained immovable while these thoughts pressed upon her, and answered not a word to the taunts, revilings, and threats with which she was assailed.
Meanwhile the messenger despatched for Messieurs Smith and Hogstown returned with the intelligence that the former “was rode into the country,” and the latter not yet returned from New Orleans. This message was delivered in full assembly, and Lucy was inexpressibly relieved: — she flattered herself that before the following morning she might
certainly escape from any power Mrs. Shepherd could employ to retain her, before she was authorised to use violence by those who had power to do so. But herein she greatly miscalculated that lady’s respect for the laws: no sooner was she informed that there would be difficulty in conveying Lucy to any other prison, than she determined her own house should serve all the purposes of one in the interval; and accordingly she ordered Lucy to mount the stairs before her.
Resistance was totally out of the question; the deputy, at a look from her chief, marched up to her side, and seizing her arm with no gentle touch, prepared to enforce the command.
Lucy shrunk from her touch, for she had been second only to Mrs. Shepherd in the violence used upon poor little Dido; and obeying the peremptory command, she walked up stairs to the room she usually occupied, and having entered it, heard the door locked and double-locked upon her.
Her situation was indeed terrible, being made up of the most serious and well-grounded fears for the future, with inability the most lamentably complete of using the present interval to avert the threatened danger. She prayed fervently, and in doing so ceased to weep; but the hours wore heavily away, and though the light of day had not yet disappeared, she fancied the time already past when it should have done so. At length a step approached, and the door was opened. A portion of bread and water was placed beside her; while the poor girl who had hitherto shared her bed was permitted, though with many injunctions to make haste, to remove her night-linen and other necessaries from the chamber. While engaged in collecting these, Lucy observed her go to a drawer that was appropriated wholly to her own use, and which she knew that Miss Talbot never opened; but now she did so, with rather more than necessary noise, as if hastily seeking some article that she had mislaid — and as she closed it again, a little short cough accompanied the action. It was enough: Lucy felt that she was not quite forsaken; and having waited till the door was again locked upon her, she hastened to the drawer, and, as she expected, found a scrap of written paper in it.
Collected Works of Frances Trollope Page 40
