Bricks Without Straw Part 9

"'You needn't fear my coming for any further difficulty, gentlemen.

I merely want to say'--and he held up the paper--' that I have enlisted in the army of the Confederate States, and taken this horse to ride--given him to the Government. And I want to say further, that if Jay Timlow wants to do any fighting, and will go and enlist, I'll furnish him a horse, too.'

"With that he jumped on his horse and rode away, followed by a big cheer, while Jay Timlow stood on the pump platform sopping his head with his handkerchief, his eyes as big as saucers, as they say, from surprise. We were all surprised, for that matter. As soon as we got over that a little we began to rally Timlow over the outcome of his little fracas. There wasn't no such timber in him as in young Le Moyne, of course--a big beefy fellow--but he couldn't stand that, and almost before we had got well started he put on his hat, looked round at the crowd a minute, and said, 'd.a.m.ned if I don't do it!' He marched straight over to the Court House and did it, too.

"Le Moyne stood up to his bargain, and they both went out in the same company a few days afterward. They became great friends, and they do say the Confederacy had mighty few better soldiers than those two boys. Le Moyne was offered promotion time and again, but he wouldn't take it. He said he didn't like war, didn't believe in it, and didn't want no responsibility only for himself. Just about the last fighting they had over about Appomattox--perhaps the very day before the Surrender--he lost that horse and his left arm a-fighting over that same Jay Timlow, who had got a ball in the leg, and Le Moyne was trying to keep him out of the hands of you Yanks.

"He got back after a while, and has been living with his mother on the old plantation ever since. He married a cousin just before he went into the service--more to have somebody to leave with his ma than because he wanted a wife, folks said. The old man, Colonel Casaubon, died during the war. He never seemed like himself after the boy went into the army. I saw him once or twice, and I never did see such a change in any man. Le Moyne's wife died, too. She left a little boy, who with Le Moyne and his ma are all that's left of the family. I don't reckon there ever was a man thought more of his mother, or had a mother more worth setting store by, than Hesden Le Moyne." They had reached the hotel when this account was concluded, and after dinner the sheriff came to the captain's room and introduced a slender young man in neatly fitting jeans, with blue eyes, a dark brown beard, and an empty coat-sleeve, as Mr. Hesden Le Moyne.

He put his felt hat under the stump of his left arm and extended his right hand as he said simply:

"The sheriff said you wished to see me about Eliab Hill."

"I did," was the response; "but after what he has told me, I desired to see you much more for yourself."

The sheriff withdrew, leaving them alone together, and they fell to talking of army life at once, as old soldiers always will, each trying to locate the other in the strife which they had pa.s.sed through on opposite sides.

CHAPTER IX.

A BRUISED REED.

"Eliab Hill," said Le Moyne, when they came at length to the subject in relation to which the interview had been solicited, "was born the slave of Potem Desmit, on his plantation Knapp-of-Reeds, in the lower part of the county. His mother was a very likely woman, considerable darker than he, but still not more than a quadroon, I should say. She was brought from Colonel Desmit's home plantation to Knapp-of-Reeds some little time before her child was born. It was her first child, I believe, and her last one. She was a very slender woman, and though not especially unhealthy, yet never strong, being inclined to consumption, of which she finally died.

Of course his paternity is unknown, though rumor has not been silent in regard to it. It is said that a stubborn refusal on his mother's part to reveal it led Colonel Desmit, in one of his whimsical moods, to give the boy the name he bears. However, he was as bright a child as ever frolicked about a plantation till he was some five or six years old. His mother had been a house-servant before she was sent to Knapp-of-Reeds, and being really a supernumerary there, my father hired her a year or two afterward as a nurse for my mother, who has long been an invalid, as you may be aware."

His listener nodded a.s.sent, and he went on:

"Her child was left at Knapp-of-Reeds, but Sat.u.r.day nights it was brought over to stay the Sunday with her, usually by this boy Nimbus, who was two or three years older than he. The first I remember of his misfortune was one Sat.u.r.day, when Nimbus brought him over in a gunny-sack, on his back. It was not a great way, hardly half a mile, but I remember thinking that it was a pretty smart tug for the little black rascal. I was not more than a year or two older than he, myself, and not nearly so strong.

"It seems that something had happened to the boy, I never knew exactly what--seems to me it was a cold resulting from some exposure, which settled in his legs, as they say, producing rheumatism or something of that kind--so that he could not walk or hardly stand up. The boy Nimbus had almost the sole charge of him during the week, and of course he lacked for intelligent treatment. In fact, I doubt if Desmit's overseer knew anything about it until it was too late to do any good. He was a bright, cheerful child, and Nimbus was the same dogged, quiet thing he is now. So it went on, until his mother, Moniloe, found that he had lost all use of his legs. They were curled up at one side, as you saw them, and while his body has developed well they have grown but little in comparison.

"Moniloe made a great outcry over the child, to whom she was much attached, and finally wrought upon my father and mother to buy herself and her crippled boy. Colonel Desmit, on whom the burden of his maintenance would fall, and who saw no method of making him self-supporting, was willing to sell the mother on very moderate terms if my father would take the child and guarantee his support.

This was done, and they both became my father's property. Neither forgot to be grateful. The woman was my mother's faithful nurse until after the war, when she died, and I have never been able to fill her place completely, since. I think Eliab learned his letters, and perhaps to read a little, from me. He was almost always in my mother's room, being brought in and set down upon a sheepskin on one side the fireplace in the morning by his mammy. My mother had great sympathy with his misfortune, the more, I suppose, because of her own very similar affliction. She used to teach him to sew and knit, and finally, despite the law, began to encourage him to read. The neighbors, coming in and finding him with a book in his hands, began to complain of it, and my father, in order to silence all such murmurs, manumitted him square out and gave bonds for his support, as the law required.

"As he grew older he remained more and more in his mother's cabin, in one corner of which she had a little elevated platform made for him. He could crawl around the room by means of his hands, and had great skill in clambering about by their aid. When he was about fifteen a shoemaker came to the house to do our plantation work.

Eliab watched him closely all the first day; on the second desired to help, and before the month had pa.s.sed was as good a shoemaker as his teacher. From that time he worked steadily at the trade, and managed very greatly to reduce the cost of his support.

"He was a strange boy, and he and this fellow Nimbus were always together except when prevented by the latter's tasks. A thousand times I have known Nimbus to come over long after dark and leave before daylight, in order to stay with his friend over night. Not unfrequently he would carry him home upon his back and keep him for several days at Knapp-of-Reeds, where both were prime favorites, as they were with us also. As they grew older this attachment became stronger. Many's the time I have pa.s.sed there and seen Nimbus working in the tobacco and Eliab with his hammers and lasts pounding away under a tree near by. Having learned to read, the man was anxious to know more. For a time he was indulged, but as the hot times just preceding the war came on, it became indiscreet for him to be seen with a book.

"While he was still very young he began to preach, and his ministrations were peculiarly prudent and sensible. His influence with his people, even before emanc.i.p.ation, was very great, and has been increased by his correct and manly conduct since. I regard him, sir, as one of the most useful men in the community.

"For some reason, I have never known exactly what, he became anxious to leave my house soon after Nimbus' return from the army, although I had offered him the free use of the little shop where he and his mother had lived, as long as he desired. He and Nimbus, by some hook or crook, managed to buy the place at Red Wing. It was a perfectly barren piney old-field then, and not thought of any account except for the timber there was on it. It happened to be at the crossing of two roads, and upon a high sandy ridge, which was thought to be too poor to raise peas on. The man who sold it to them--their old master Potem Desmit--no doubt thought he was getting two or three prices for it; but it has turned out one of the best tobacco farms in the county. It is between two very rich sections, and in a country having a very large colored population, perhaps the largest in the county, working the river plantations on one side and the creek bottoms on the other. I have heard that Nimbus takes great credit to himself for his sagacity in foreseeing the capabilities of Red Wing. If he really did detect its value at that time, it shows a very fine judgment and accounts for his prosperity since.

Eliab Hill affirms this to be true, but most people think he does the planning for the whole settlement. Nimbus has done extremely well, however. He has sold off, I should judge, nearly half his land, in small parcels, has worked hard, and had excellent crops.

I should not wonder, if his present crop comes off well and the market holds on, if before Christmas he were worth as many thousands as he had hundreds the day he bought that piney old-field. It don't take much tobacco at a dollar a pound, which his last crop brought, lugs and all, to make a man that does his own work and works his own land right well off. He's had good luck, has worked hard, and has either managed well or been well advised; it don't matter which.

"He has gathered a good crowd around him too, sober, hard-working men; and most of them have done well too. So that it has become quite a flourishing little settlement. I suppose there are some fifty or sixty families live there. They have a church, which they use for a school-house, and it is by a great deal the best school-house in the county too. Of course they got' outside help, some from the Bureau, I reckon, and more perhaps from some charitable a.s.sociation. I should think the church or school-house must have cost fifteen hundred or two thousand dollars. They have a splendid school. Two ladies from the North are teaching there--real ladies, I should judge, too."

The listener smiled at this indors.e.m.e.nt.

"I see," said Le Moyne, "it amuses you that I should qualify my words in that manner. It seems unneccessary to you."

"Entirely so."

"Well, it may be; but I a.s.sure you, sir, we find it hard to believe that any one who will come down here and teach n.i.g.g.e.rs is of very much account at home."

"They are generally of the very cream of our Northern life,"

said the other. "I know at this very time the daughters of several prominent clergymen, of two college professors, of a wealthy merchant, of a leading manufacturer, and of several wealthy farmers, who are teaching in these schools. It is missionary work, you see--just as much as going to Siam or China. I have never known a more accomplished, devoted, or thoroughly worthy cla.s.s of ladies, and do not doubt that these you speak of, well deserve your praise without qualification."

"Well, it may be," said the other dubiously; "but it is hard for us to understand, you know. Now, they live in a little old house, which they have fixed up with flowers and one thing and another till it is very attractive--on the outside, at least. I know nothing about the inside since their occupancy. It was a notable place in the old time, but had quite run down before they came. I don't suppose they see a white person once a month to speak to them, unless indeed some of the officers come over from the post at Boyleston, now and then. I am sure that no lady would think of visiting them or admitting them to her house. I know a few gentlemen who have visited the school just out of curiosity. Indeed, I have ridden over once myself, and I must say it is well worth seeing. I should say there were three or four hundred scholars, of all ages, sizes, and colors--black, brown, white apparently, and all shades of what we used to call 'ginger-cake.' These two ladies and the man Eliab teach them. It is perfectly wonderful how they do get on. You ought to see it."

"I certainly shall," said Pardee, "as a special duty calls me there.

How would it do for a polling-place?"

"There ought to be one there, but I should be afraid of trouble,"

answered Le Moyne seriously.

"Name me one or two good men for poll-holders, and I will risk any disorder."

"Well, there is Eliab. He's a good man if there ever was one, and capable too."

"How about Nimbus?"

"He's a good man too, honest as the day is long, hard-headed and determined, but he can't read or write."

"That is strange."

"It _is_ strange, but one of the teachers was telling me so when I was there. I think he has got so that he can sign his first name--his only one, he insists--but that is all, and he cannot read a word."

"I should have thought he would have been one of the first to learn that much at least."

"So should I. He is the best man of affairs among them all--has good judgment and sense, and is always trying to do something to get on. He says he is 'too busy to get larnin', an' leaves that and preachin' to Bre'er' 'Liab.'" "Do they keep up their former intimacy?"

"Keep it up? 'Liab lives in Nimbus' lot, has his meals from his table, and is toted about by Nimbus just the same as if they were still boys. Nimbus seems to think more of him than he would of a brother--than he does of his brothers, for he has two whom he seems to care nothing about. His wife and children are just as devoted to the cripple as Nimbus, and 'Liab, on his part, seems to think as much of them as if they were his own. They get along first-rate, and are prospering finely, but I am afraid they will have trouble yet."

"Why so?"

"Oh, well, I don't know; they are n.i.g.g.e.rs, you see, and our people are not used to such things."

"I hope your apprehensions are groundless."

"Well, I hope so too."

The officer looked at his watch and remarked that he must return to his duty, and after thanking his companion for a pleasant hour, and being invited to call at Mulberry Hill whenever occasion might serve, the two men parted, each with pleasant impressions of the other.

CHAPTER X.