Si Klegg, Book 2

by John McElroy

  CHAPTER XXI. THE PERPLEXED DEACON

  TROUBLED TO KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THE FREEDMAN.

  "WHAT is yer a-gwine tub do wid me, mas'r?" asked the negro, with a lookand an attitude curiously like a forlorn stray dog which had at lastfound an owner and protector.

  "Wish to gracious I knowed," answered the Deacon, knitting his brows inthought. "I don't know as I've anything to do with you. I've about asmuch idee what to do with you as I would with a whale in the WabashRiver. I'm neither John Brown nor a colonization society. I've about asmuch use for a nigger, free or slave, as a frog has for a tail. You'refree now that's all there is of it. Nobody's got nothin' to do with you.You've got to do with yourself that's all. You're your own master. Yougo your way and let other folks go theirs."

  In the simplicity of his heart the Deacon thought he had covered thewhole ground. What more could the man want, who had youth, health andstrength, than perfect liberty to go where he pleased and strive forwhat he wanted?

  The negro looked dazed and perplexed.

  "Isn't yo' a-gwine tuh take me wid yo', mas'r?" he asked.

  "Take you with me!" repeated the Deacon in{253} astonishment and somepetulance. "Certainly not. I don't want you. And you mustn't call memaster. You mustn't call any man master. You're no longer a slave.You're your own master. You're free; don't you understand?"

  "But whah'm I tuh go?" reiterated the negro hopelessly.

  "Go where you please," repeated the Deacon with impatience. "The wholeworld's open to you. Go to the next County; go to Kaintucky, Injianny,Ohio, Illinoy, Kamskatky, New Guiney, Jericho, or Polkinhorn's tanyardif you like."

  "Afo' God, I don't know what tuh do, or wha tuh go," said the negrodespairingly. "If yo' leab me here, I know dat ole mas'r 'll fin' me an'done kill me daid."

  "Niggers is like mules," remarked Groundhog savagely. "They only knowtwo places in the whole world: their master's place and somewhere else.They want to run away from their master, but they hain't nary idee wharto go when they run away. A hoss has more sense 'n either a nigger or amule. When he lights out he's got some idee o' where he wants t' go.I tell you; jest give that nigger to me. I know what to do with him.I know a man that'll give me $100 for him, and I'll whack up fair andsquare with you."

  "Shut up, you mullet-headed mule-whacker," said the Deacon irritably."You hain't got sense enough to take care o' mules right, let alone aman. I wouldn't trust you an hour with the poorest team on my place.I'll take care o' this man myself, at least, until I kin have a talkwith the boys. Here, you nigger, what's your name?"{254}

  "Dey call me Sam, mas'r," replied the negro.

  "Well, we'll change that. You're a free man, and I'll give you anothername. I'm goin' to call you Abraham--Abraham Lincoln the grandest namein the world to-day. For short I'll call you Abe. You must stop callin'me, or anybody, master, I tell you. You just call be Mister Klegg."

  "Mistuh what?" said the negro, puzzled.

  "Well, jest call me boss. Now, Abe, climb up into the wagon here, andcome along with me."{255}

  "He can't git into no wagon o' mine," said the teamster surlily."Government wagons ain't no passenger coaches for runaway niggers. Ididn't hire to haul niggers on pleasure excursions. That ain't no partof a white man's bizniss. Let him walk alongside."

  "You dumbed citizen," said the Deacon angrily. He had been in camplong enough to catch the feeling of the men toward the Quartermaster'scivilian employees. "This man shall ride in this wagon along side o' me,and you'll drive us into camp, or I'll find out the reason why. Now jestgether up your lines and start."

  "I won't take no slack from no old Wabash hayseed like you," respondedthe teamster cordially. "You can't boss me. You hain't no right. Youcan't ring me in to help you steal niggers, unless you divide with me.You come out here in the road and I'll punch that old sorrel-top head o'your'n."

  And the teamster pranced out and brandished his blacksnake whipmenacingly.

  It had been many years since anybody on the Wabash had dared DeaconKlegg to a match in fisticuffs. The memory of some youthful performancesof his had secured him respectful immunity. His last affair had beena severe suppression of a noted bully who attempted to "crowd themourners" at a camp-meeting for the good order of which the Deacon felthimself somewhat responsible. It took the bully six months to get overit, and he went to the mourner's bench himself at the next revival.

  The Deacon looked at the gesticulating teamster a minute, and thedormant impulse of his youth{256} stirred again within him. He laid hisgun down and calmly slid from the fodder to the ground. He pulledoff his coat and hat, and laid them on the wagon. He took the quid oftobacco from his mouth, carefully selected a place for it on the edge ofthe wagon-bed, laid it there on a piece of corn-husk, and walked towardthe teamster, rolling up his sleeves.

  The effect upon the monarch of the mules was immediate and marked. Hestopped prancing around, and began to look alarmed.

  "Now, don't you hit me," he yelled. "I'm the driver o' this team, and inGov'ment employ. If you hit me I'll have you courtmartialed."

  DO YOU HEAR? GIT ON YOUR MULE AT ONCT.']

  "I'm not goin' to hit you," said the Deacon, raising a fist as big as asmall ham, "if you behave yourself. I want you to shut your mouth, andgit on your mule and start for camp. If you don't 'tend to your bizness,or give me any more o' your sass, I'll pound the melt out o' you. D' youhear? Git on your mule at onct."

  The teamster did as he was bid, and drove on till they came up to wherethe boys were sitting on a fence-corner waiting for them.

  Si had a brace of chickens tied together by the feet, and Shorty acrock of honey in the comb, with a bag of saleratus biscuits and one ofcornmeal, and a number of strings of dried apples.

  "Bin waitin' for you a good while, Pap. What kep' you so long?Break-down?" said Si.

  "No; had to stop and argy the fugitive slave law with a Southerngentleman, and then debate niggers' civil rights with the teamster,"said the Deacon. Then he told them the story. "Here's the{257} darky,"he said, as he concluded. "Seems to be a purty fair sort of a farm-hand,if he has sense enough to come in when it rains, which I misdoubt. Whatare we goin' to do with him?"

  "Do with him?" said Shorty. "Do everything with him. Take him into campfirst. Hire him out to the Quartermaster. Let him wait on the Captain.Take him back home with you to help on the farm while Si's away.Jehosephat, a big buck like that's a mighty handy thing to have aboutthe house. You kin learn him more tricks in a week than he'd learn withhis owner in a lifetime. Say, boy, what's your name?"

  "S s-s," the negro began to say, but he caught the Deacon's eye uponhim, and responded promptly, "Abr'm Lincoln."

  "I believe the nigger kin be taught," thought the Deacon. "Probablythis's some more o' Providence's workin's. Mebbe He brung this aboutjest to give me my share o' the work o' raisin' the fallen race."

  "Boys," said he, "I'm glad you've got something good to eat there. Themchickens seem tol'ble young and fat. I hope you came by 'em honestly."

  "Well, Pap," chuckled Si, "I don't know as a man who's been runnin'around for another man's nigger, and got him, is jest in shape to askquestions how other men got chickens and things; but I'll relieve yourmind by sayin' that we came honestly by 'em."

  "Yes; thought it would be interestin' to try that way once, fora change," said Shorty. "Besides, it wuz too near camp for anyhornswogglin'. These fellers right around camp are gettin' on to thenames{258} o' the regiments. They're learnin' to notice 200th Ind. onour caps, and' foller you right into camp, and go up to the Colonel.We're layin' altogether too long in one place. The Army o' theCumberland oughter move."

  "We paid full value, C. O. D.," added Si, "and not in Drake's PlantationBitters labels nor in busted Kalamazoo bank notes, neither. Ithink fellers that pass patent-medicine labels and business-collegeadvertisements on these folks for money, oughter to be tied up by thethumbs. It's mean."

  "That's what I say, too," added Shorty, with virtuous indignation."'Specially when you kin
git the best kind o' Confederit money fromCincinnati for two cents on the dollar. I always lay in enough o' thatto do my tradin' with."

  "What's that? What's that?" gasped the Deacon. "Passin' Confederatemoney that you buy in Cincinnati at two cents on the dollar? Why, that'scounterfeitin'."

  "That's drawin' it a little too fine," said Shorty argumentatively."These flabbergasted fools won't take greenbacks. I offered the womanto-day some, and she said she wouldn't be found dead with 'em. Shewanted Confedrit money. You may call it counterfeitin', but the wholeSouthern Confederacy is counterfeit, from its President down to thelowest Corporil. A dollar or two more or less won't make no difference.This feller at Cincinnati has got just as much right to print notes asthey have in Richmond."

  "He prints 'em on better paper, his pictures are better, and he sellshis notes much cheaper, and I{259} don't see why I shouldn't buy o' himrather than o' them. I believe in patronizin' home industry."

  "Si," said his father, in horrified tones, "I hope you hain't binpassin' none o' the Cincinnati Confederate money on these people."

  "I hope not, Pap. But then, you know, I ain't no bank-note detector. Ican't tell the Cincinnati kind from the Richmond kind, and I never tryvery hard. All Confedrt money's alike to me, and I guess in the endit'll be to them. Both kinds say they'll be paid six months after theconclusion of peace be twixt the Confederate States and the UnitedStates, and I guess one stands jest as good show as the other. The womanasked me $2 apiece for these chickens, and I paid her in the Confedritmoney I happened to have in my pocket. I didn't notice whether it wuzprinted in Cincinnati or Richmond. I got it from one o' the boys playin'p----. I mean he paid it to see me." He gave Shorty a furtive kick andwhispered: "Come mighty nigh givin' my self away that time."

  There was a long hill just before they came in sight of the entrance tothe camp, and they got out and helped the mules up. They walked on aheaduntil they came to the top. The Deacon looked at the entrance, and said:

  "I declare, if there isn't that owner o' this nigger waitin' for us."

  "That so?" said Si, turning his eyes in that direction. "And he's gotsome officers with him. There's some officers jest mean enough to helpthese rebels ketch their niggers. I'd like to knock their addled headsoff."{260}

  "Jest wait till we git discharged, Si, and then we kin lick 'em as muchas we want to," said Shorty. "But we've got to do somethin' now. Theycan't see us yit. Deacon, jest take yer nigger and cut down aroundthrough the crick there until you come to the picket-line. Then wait. Meand Si'll go on in, and come around and find you."

  "All right," assented the Deacon, who was falling into camp ways withremarkable facility. "But you've got to look out for that teamster. He'smeaner'n dog-fennel. He'll tell everything."

  "Good point," said Si. "We must 'tend to him. See here, Groundhog," hecontinued, walking back to the teamster; "you don't know nothin' aboutthat old man and nigger that got on your wagon. They slipped off intothe woods when you wuzn't lookin', while you wuz busy with your mules,and you don't know whether they went to the right or to the left, up theroad or down it."

  "Do you s'pose I'm goin' to help steal a nigger, and then lie aboutit to the officers, for you galoots, and all for nothin'?" said theteamster. "You are blamed fools, that's all I've got to say."

  "Look here, Groundhog," said Shorty, coming up close, with a portentiousdoubled fist. "You know me, and you know Si. You know that either ofus can maul the head off you in a minute, whenever we've a mind to, andwe're likely any time to have a mind to. We're a durned sight nearer youall the time than any o' the officers, and you can't git away from us,though you may from them. They may buck and gag you, as they ought to,'bout every day, but that won't be nothin' to the welting one of us'll{261} give you. Now, you tell that story, jest as Si said, and stickto it, or you won't have a whole bone in your carcass by the end o' theweek."

  When they came up to the entrance there indeed stood the ownerof Abraham Lincoln, holding his horse, and by him stood theLieutenant-Colonel of the 200th Ind., a big, burly man, who had been adrover and an influential politician before he got his commission, andhad a high reputation at home as a rough-and-tumble fighter. He had notadded to his bellicose fame since entering the field, because for somemysterious reason he had been absent every time the regiment went into afight, or was likely to. Consequently he was all the more blustering anddomineering in camp, in spite of the frequent repressions he got fromthe modest, quiet little Colonel.

  "Old Blowhard Billings is there," said Si. "Now we'll have a gust o'wind."

  "Didn't know he was in camp," said Shorty. "I've a notion to bust a capand scare him back to Nashville agin. Don't let him bluff you, Si, evenif he is the Lieutenant-Colonel."

  They rode up to the entrance looking as innocent and placid as ifbringing in a load from the fields on the Wabash.

  "Corporal Klegg," said the Lieutenant-Colonel sternly, "bring out thatnigger from the wagon."

  "We ain't got no nigger in the wagon, Colonel," said Si, with anexpression of surprise.

  "Come, now, don't fool with me, sir, or I'll make you very sorry forit. I'm no man to be trifled with, sir. If you ain't got a nigger in thewagon, what 've you done with him."{262}

  "We ain't done nothin' with him, Colonel," persisted Si. "I hain't hadnothin' to do with no nigger since we started out this mornin'; hain'tspoken to one. Sometimes niggers jump on our wagons, ride a little ways,and then jump off agin. I can't keep track of 'em. I generally make 'emgit off when I notice 'em."

  "Corporal Klegg, you're lyin' to me," said the Lieutenant-Colonelroughly. "I'll settle with you directly. Groundhog, have you got anigger in the wagon?"

  "No, sir," replied the teamster.

  "Didn't you have' one?"

  Groundhog looked up and caught Shorty's eye fixed unflinchingly on him.

  "I b'lieve that one did git on," he stammered, "but he got off agind'rectly. I didn't notice much about him. My mules wuz very bothersomeall the time. They're the durndest meanest mules that ever a man triedto drive. That there off-swing mule'd--"

  "We don't want to hear nothin' about your mules. We'll look in the wagonourselves."

  The search developed nothing. The Lieutenant-Colonel came back to Si,angrier than ever.

  "Look here, Klegg, you're foolin' me, an' I won't stand it. I'll havethe truth out o' you if I have to kill you. Understand?"

  There was a dangerous gleam in Si's and Shorty's eyes, but they kepttheir lips tightly closed.

  "This gentleman here," continued the Lieutenant-Colonel, "says, and Ibelieve his story, against all that you may say, that the men with thiswagon, which he's bin watchin' all along, took his nigger{263} away fromhim and drove him off with insults and curses. They threatened his life.He says he can't reckonize either of you, and likely you have disguisedyourselves. But he reckonizes the wagon and the teamster, and is willin'to swear to 'em. I know he's tellin' the truth, because I know youfellers. You're impudent and sassy. You've bin among them that'shollered at me. You've bin stealin' other things besides niggers to-day,and have 'em in your possession. You're loaded down with things you'vestolen from houses. I won't command a regiment of nigger-thieves. Iwon't have nigger-thieves in my regiment. If I've got any in my regimentI'll break 'em of it, or I'll break their infernal necks. I believe youfellers got away with that nigger, and I'll tie you up by the thumbstill I get the truth out o' you. Sergeant o' the guard, take charge o'these men, and bring 'em along. Take that stuff that they've stolen awayfrom them and send it to my tent."

  Si and Shorty got very white about the mouth, but Si merely said, asthey handed their guns to the guard:

  "Colonel, you may tie us up till doomsday, but you'll git no help out ofus to ketch runaway niggers and put 'em back in slavery."

  "Shut up, you scalawag," roared the Lieutenant-Colonel. "If I hearanother word out o' you I'll buck-and-gag you."

  They marched to Regimental Headquarters and halted, and theLieutenant-Colonel renewed his browbeating, Si and
Shorty continuedobstinate, and the Lieutenant-Colonel, getting angrier everyminute,{264} ordered them tied up by the thumbs. While the Sergeant ofthe Guard, who was a friend of the boys, and had little heart for thework, was dallying with his preparations, the Colonel himself appearedon the scene.

  "Ah, Colonel, you've got back, have you?" said the Lieutenant-Colonel,little pleased at the interruption. "I've just caught two of the men ina little job o' nigger-stealin', and I was about to learn them{265} alesson which will break them of the habit. With your consent I'll go onwith the work."

  "Nigger-stealing?" said the Colonel quietly. "You mean helping a slaveto get away? Did you learn whether the owner was a loyal man?"

  "I don't know as that makes any difference," replied 'theLieutenant-Colonel surlily. "As a matter of fact, I believe he said hehad two sons in the rebel army."

  "I'LL INVITE YOUR ATTENTION TO THE EMANCIPATIONPROCLAMATION 264]"

  "Well, Colonel," said the other, "I'll invite your attention to theEmancipation Proclamation of President Lincoln, and the orders from theWar Department, which prohibit the return of slaves to disloyal owners,and make it the duty of officers and men to assist in their escape. Youhad better dismiss the men to their quarters."

  "If that's the case if I don't resign. I'm no

  "Abolitionist. I didn't come into the army to free the niggers."

  "I shall take pleasure in forwarding your resignation with arecommendation of its acceptance for the good of the service," said theColonel calmly.

  "Men, go to your quarters."

  "Altogether, Pap, I consider this a mighty good day's work," remarkedSi that evening after supper, as they sat around the fire smoking, withAbraham Lincoln snoring vigorously on the floor, in his first night'ssleep as a free man.