Plantation Sketches Part 4

"Well, well, well, de listed sow, an' de big white hogue, an' seben head o' shotes done tore down de fence, an' took deyselves 'cross de riber for to steal Mars Jones's corn; I 'clare 't is a disgrace. I reckon Mars Jones gwine cuss a plenty when he fine it out. It certinly is a pity for master's creturs to do sich a low-life trick as dat. But bless de Lord," and a look of crafty triumph came into his face, "dey's got dey bellies full, anyhow."

With this pleasing reflection, and the conviction that nothing more could be done for the present, the old man seated himself upon a log, opened his bucket, took out his jack-knife, and proceeded to eat his dinner, while Drive sat by, in eager readiness to s.n.a.t.c.h the morsels flung to him, ere they could reach the ground.

When the meal was finished, dog and man each took comfort in his own way. The dog stretched himself in the sunshine. The old man sat with bent head "a-studyin'," then nodded, then fell into a deep sleep, soothed by the silence, which reigned unbroken save for the distant cawing of a crow.

The long gray moss swayed dreamily upon the motionless boughs of the giant trees. Where the sycamore lifted its gaunt, white arms, the great bald eagle sat immovable, watching with fierce, intent gaze for its prey in the waters below.

II

The shadows were growing long upon wood and river when the light dip of a paddle broke upon the stillness, and old Jerry, rousing from his nap, spied a canoe gliding down stream, guided by two youths who, with their guns lying crosswise upon their knees, were making for the bank.

"Mars Harry an' Mars Phil," he murmured, eying them with lazy curiosity, as they brought their little craft to land, and after making it fast, picked up their guns, crossed the levee, and struck off into the swamp.

"Dey's after turkey, I 'speck; Mars Harry an' me, we's killed many a varmint in dese here woods. Dey want no Mars Phil 'bout here in dem days befo' ole Mars were tuck down."

Thus soliloquizing, the old man continued to gaze wistfully after the retreating figures; for their appearance had seemed to bring a disturbing element into his peaceful dreams, and a look of helpless trouble overspread his face as, taking off his hat and slowly scratching his head, he murmured:--

"Seem like it mos' a pity Mars Phil trouble hisself for to come here, anyhow. Well, well, well! we folks all gwine be 'vided up 'twix Mars Harry an' Mars Phil, 'cause ole Mars, he not long for dis world! Bless de Lord, whinsoever it please Him for to teck ole Mars to hisself, I trus' he gwine 'vide off Jerry to Mars Harry's shere, 'cause I nachally ain't got no use for t'other one--he too outlondesh."

So saying, he rose and reached his bucket from the bough where it hung. Drive, who had for some moments been watching him out of the corner of one red eye, rose also, and the two set out upon their tramp back to the cart.

The old man had climbed the fence, the dog had scrambled through, and both were threading their way across the swamp, when the report of a gun close by caused the dog to beat a retreat from the thicket into which he had thrust his nose, and, with tail tucked in, to creep to his master's side; while the old man, exclaiming, "Good Gor-a-mighty!

whot dat?" pushed aside the bushes in order to see what game the boys had brought down.

The sight that met his eyes froze him with horror. Philip's lifeless body lay upon the ground, while Harry, with scared white face, bent over it.

For a brief s.p.a.ce the old man stood as if petrified, then muttered: "Jerry ain't gwine know nothin' bout dis here. When ole Mars say, 'Jerry, what you seen in de Vine Ridge Swash?' Jerry, he gwine say, 'Nothin', Marster, fo' de Lord. I seen nothin' 't all!' An' I ain't gwine tell no lie, nuther, 'cause I ain't gwine look!"

Thus thinking, he cautiously drew back, and, with ashen face and limbs that through trembling almost failed to support him, he stealthily crept away until out of earshot; then took to his heels and fled.

When, however, he was forced to pause for breath, he considered if he had done well to desert his young master, and turned reluctantly to retrace his steps, when, as he did so, the air was suddenly rent with ear-piercing shrieks for half a second, and Jerry's heart quailed.

"It's boun' to be de debil," he whispered. Then, a light seeming to break upon him, he exclaimed: "Bless G.o.d! 't ain't nothin' but de ole Chieftain a-blowin'."

The Chieftain, a small freight steamer, had recently taken the place of the old flat-bottomed scows, and, as the steam whistle was still a novelty, it is not surprising that Ung Jerry, in his terror, should for the moment have mistaken it for some unearthly sound.

After many irresolute pauses, the old man at length reached the scene of the disaster, and with shaking hands thrust aside the bushes.

Except for the small birds silently flitting to their roosts, the place was utterly deserted. The level sunbeams glinted through the gray moss, gilded the tree trunks, and glowed crimson upon the brown leaves; the solitary peace of nature seemed unbroken; only the pool of blood at Ung Jerry's feet told him that what he had witnessed had not been a vision.

After a moment's survey he was turning away, when his eyes fell upon the two guns: here, at least, was something tangible, and the old man proceeded to secrete them in the fallen leaves. Squatted upon the ground, he was too busily engaged to note the sound of approaching footsteps, and started violently when a rough voice accosted him. He mustered courage, however, to quaver:--

"Dat you, Mars Jones?"

"Me? of course it's me! Who did you reckon it was?"

"I dunno, Mars Jones."

"Well, you'll know next time, if you don't keep them hogs o' yourn out of my corn. Why, that confounded old sow can destroy more corn in one night than you are worth."

"Yes, Mars Jones, dat de trufe," meekly a.s.sented the old man.

Mars Jones, warming to the subject, now waxed more and more eloquent over his grievances, until, having exhausted his pent up wrath, he had leisure to observe old Jerry's ashen face and shaking limbs, and he exclaimed:--

"Why, what's the matter with you? are you sick?"

"Yes, Mars Jones, I's been po'ly dis liblong day, an' I's gittin'

sa.s.sifrax for to make me a little drap o' tea, I's got sich a mis'ry."

"Sa.s.safras!" here broke in Mars Jones; and, good-natured, despite his roughness, he took from his pocket a _tickler_, and handing Jerry a dram, said:

"Drink this, you old blockhead. _Sa.s.sifrax_, indeed!--what good you reckon sa.s.sifrax goin' do you?"

With a sc.r.a.pe and a bow and a "Thank ye, Marster," the old man gulped down the dram, and Mars Jones, replacing his _tickler_, was turning away, when his foot slipped in something, and looking down he saw that it was blood.

The dram had put so much heart into the old man that he was able to reply glibly to Mars Jones's questions.

"Its jes' wha' I's been markin' hogs, Marster."

"I don't believe you; I believe you've been killin' one of your master's hogs--that's what you've been at."

But as this did not concern him, he did not wait to inquire further, and so, turning on his heel, he strode off.

The hog-feeder, too, hastening away, took the shortest path back to his cart.

The deserted barnyard lay silent in the white moonlight when the little cart creaked through the gate; but up at the "great house"

there were lights and movements where the family watched the coming of the boys.

Thursday, Friday, and Sat.u.r.day pa.s.sed without tidings, and the hope that they had been caught by the rising water and imprisoned upon some isolated knoll had been abandoned after the swamps had been searched in every direction. To add to the grief of the household, the master, already enfeebled, now lay prostrated in a condition that almost forbade hope.

Upon Sunday the waters began to abate, fences again appeared, and patches of drowned corn showed themselves above the wastes of water, to the no small joy of the flocks of blackbirds which chattered and fluttered amongst them.

Mr. Jones, tired of the loneliness of his water-girt home, made his way to the meeting-house, more for the sake of a gossip with some of the neighbors than for the day's preaching, and it was there that he first heard the startling news of the unaccountable disappearance of Squire Brace's nephews.

In the excitement, each man was eager to advance his own theory. The discussion ended, however, in the general opinion that their canoe had been swamped in the freshet and the boys drowned, until a newcomer a.s.serted that the canoe, with Phil's overcoat still in it, had been found tied up at the Vine Ridge landing, and that their guns had been discovered hidden in the leaves at no great distance in the swamp.

Upon hearing this, Mr. Jones could but call to mind his meeting with the hog-feeder, his strange behavior, and the blood upon the ground, and he at once jumped to the conclusion that old Jerry had been at least a party to some foul deed. His suspicions, once made known, became certainties, and the whole party, hastily mounting their horses, rode off to the nearest justice, their convictions gaining ground so rapidly that, ere the house of the justice was reached, poor, simple old Jerry, the most harmless of G.o.d's creatures, had become in their estimation a villain of the deepest dye.

Upon this identical Sunday morning the old hog-feeder betook himself to the little plantation church, whose bell, with cracked clamor, gave warning that preaching was about to begin.

The frosty brightness of the past week had given place to a soft mist, through whose dimness the pale sunbeams looked sadly upon the autumnal world; and as the old man, dressed in his Sunday clothes, plodded along the path, the tiny crickets from beneath the gra.s.s sent up their sad, perpetual dirge.

Men and women, all shining with Sabbath cleanness, came straggling toward the church, silently and soberly, without the usual light-hearted laughter, for the trouble at the "great house" was felt by all the little band. Yet their feelings were not without a mixture of pleasurable excitement, for all were antic.i.p.ating with gloomy satisfaction the lengthy prayers, the groanings, and the head-shakings upon this mournful day.

The congregation had taken their seats, old Jethro had taken his place in the pulpit, the long-drawn cadence of the funeral hymn had floated sadly up to the "great house," when a noise at the door startled the congregation, who, turning, beheld standing in the door a group of white men. Among them was the overseer, who, coming forward, announced that hog-feeder Jerry was to be arrested upon a charge of murder. "Not that I believe it, men," he said, "but the law must take its course."

In the meantime two others had approached the old man, who had already stumbled to his feet, and, while bowing in a dazed kind of way, kept murmuring, "Sarvent, Marsters."

Handcuffs were put upon him, and amid a profound silence he was led forth and lifted into a cart. The two sheriffs took their places upon each side of him, and the cortege moved off.