The Broken Sword Part 24

"Lord hab marcy upon my soul!" exclaimed Clarissa in great excitement, "Ef yer sarves dat dar fing on ole marsa, dares gwine to be a ressurreckshun in dis grate house fortwid, yer haint agwine to lib to git bak to town. You und dat udder n.i.g.g.e.r better tak yerselvs offen dis lan fore ma.r.s.er sees yer; he spises yer worse den eny mocksin snake in de crick, und yer nose it."

"Ah, well," the negro replied arrogantly, "Yu jess gib him dis writ ob 'jectment und tell him dat Mr. Wiggins und his lady will return ter-morrer ebenin at ate o'clock und tak persesshun, und see dat yu prepars a bed in de best chamber in dis mansion fur him."

"Jes yer fling dat pizen fing on de flo. I aint ergwine ter mess my hans up wid no sich nasty trash, und yer tak yersefs offen here--don't I'm agwine ter set Jube on yer, yer hateful creetur. Ugh! ef yer gits anyfing pared on dis plantashun hit's ergwine ter be a ded-fall ter kill yu cussed n.i.g.g.e.rs. Dat's de bed yer is ergwine ter git ter morrer at ate o'clock, 'member dat! Ugh! I specks when dat time c.u.ms yer will be ded und gon rite strait ter torment."

Clarissa seized the tongs and prodded the doc.u.ment upon the floor as if it had been a tarantula, then holding it at arm's length, muttering the while like a savage, brought it to Colonel Seymour with the observation,

"Mars Jon, yer mout as well gib up dis grate house und de plantashun, too, to de stinkin, outdashus n.i.g.g.e.rs, don't dey is ergwine ter tarrify de life outen yer, und me too."

To this the old man deigned no reply, but unfolding the paper and reading it, he concluded there was but one thing to be done. For one-third of a century he had been a highly respected communicant in the Episcopal church; orthodox and consistent in his views and observances, but upon reading the insulting doc.u.ment he swore like "our army in Flanders."

"Clarissa," he exclaimed, "bring me my pistols. I will defend my own with my life, and"--

"Mars Jon," interrupted Clarissa, "I'se skeert ob dem dar shootin iruns.

What is yer ergwine ter do, ole ma.r.s.er? Is yer ergwine ter hab a resurreckshun in de grate house? Sposin yer und young missis gits kilt--whot in de name ob Gawd is ergwine ter c.u.m ob tother ones? Sarve Ellick rite ef he gits ma.s.skreed; but sposin yer und Ned gits kilt, whot is ergwine ter c.u.m ob me und Miss Alice? Yer is too brash, ole ma.r.s.er."

The old soldier was quiet for a moment, and then he called Ned to him.

"Yes, Mars Jon, here I is, sar. Whot yer want now, Mars John?" Ned asked humbly.

"Go and tell Mr. Jake Flowers to come here at once."

"Sartinly, Sar, mejitly, Mars Jon."

And in a short time Mr. Flowers, accompanied by Ned, saluted the Colonel with,

"What are your orders for to-day, sir?"

Now, thought the Colonel, I shall marshal a force more terrible than an army with banners. I shall recruit my regiment from the "Invincible Empire," and I shall tear down and let them reconstruct if they can. "We will march to victory under the flag of the 'White Camelia,' shall we not, Mr. Flowers?" asked the Colonel.

"Well, when I wants to play demnation wid ther n.i.g.g.e.rs, I don't fight under no other," was the sententious answer of the regulator.

"Come into my library a moment, sir."

As the regulator was ambling along he put his two fingers to his mouth and accidentally(?) expectorated "ambeer" in the eye of old Jupiter, the fox hound, which set up a prolonged howl and caused Clarissa to exclaim with great warmth;

"Mars Jon, did yer see dat ou'dashus white man a spettin dat dar backer juce in ole Jube's tother eye? Wun ob dem is outen now, und I specks dat fafefulest ole dorg will go plum blind. He is de fafefulest creetur on dis hole plantashun. Po' ole Jube! Nebber mind, Clarsy is ergwine ter set yer on dat speckled-face white man when he c.u.ms outen dat do, und is ergwine ter give yu sum mo wittles ef yer chaws him good. Po' ole Jube!"

And Clarissa walked back into the kitchen with Jube following her, with the further observation, "Twixt de n.i.g.g.e.rs und de low-down white trash I haint got no chusen--hit's a half duzzen wun way und a half duzzen tother way, und de debbil tak de diffunce."

The Colonel drew a chair up to the table and asked the regulator to be seated.

"Tomorrow night at eight o'clock sharp I will take possession of Ingleside, peaceably if I can, forcibly if I must."

"When the Prince of the Thebaird sent this message to the queen of lower Egypt, "Tomorrow I will knock at the door of your palace with the hilt of my spear," she returned this warning, "And I will welcome you with b.l.o.o.d.y hands, and the crocodiles of the Nile shall devour your carca.s.s."

"What shall be our message, Mr. Flowers?"

The regulator thought a little dreamily for awhile, and then with the usual squint in the right eye replied drowsily,

"Wall, thar is two ways to kill a n.i.g.g.e.r unbeknownst to him. I kin ku-klux him, or I kin strike him with forked litenin; but I haint got ammunition enuff to kill a hole pa.s.sul at wunce."

The Colonel unfolded and laid upon the table a large sheet of paper, such as engineers use in diagramming, and began in a perfunctory way to mark off lines, angles, eccentric and concentric figures, until he fixed the point of his pencil suspiciously at the upper abutment of a bridge that spanned a rivulet, with this remark,

"Just here, sir, must be the point of attack. This is the only defensible position upon the plantation. If the malicious negroes pa.s.s this bridge, all is lost. Now, my friend," he continued, "heroic diseases must be healed with heroic remedies. You and I are old soldiers. Up and down the Chickahominy our army would have been tin soldiers but for our sappers and miners. Now you may sap and mine to your heart's content," he said jocularly. "Do you understand, Mr.

Flowers?"

"No, not eggzactly," replied Flowers. "Dos yer want ther cussed n.i.g.g.e.rs drounded?" he asked.

"No, only frightened so they will let me alone," replied the Colonel.

"Frightened!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the regulator. "Wall, fokeses in gineral gits frightened before they gits drounded, don't they? If I don't mistrust you, Kernel, you wants the bridge upsot, and then you wants the kerridge upsot, and then you wants the blamed n.i.g.g.e.rs upsot, altogether in the crick."

"If in your opinion my language bears that construction, you may proceed," said the Colonel.

"Eggzactly so," replied the regulator. "I may percede with another percession and a funeral at the tail eend of it. Eight o'clock, sharp!"

reiterated the regulator, and waving his hand backwards at the old man in the verandah, cried back, "I will be thar or thar abouts," took his leave.

Clarissa tried to sick "ole Jube" on the regulator as he pa.s.sed through the gate, but the old dog looked sheepishly into Clarissa's face and wagged his tail, as much as to say, "Ef yer wants enybody sicked on dat white man, jes sick yersef."

Nero never planned the destruction of Rome, nor t.i.tus the destruction of Jerusalem with a more implacable spirit then did the regulator the destruction of the upper abutment of the wooden bridge on the Ingleside plantation. As the bold man stood upon the bridge contemplating the work to be done, and then upon the cold full orbed moon bathing its face in light, c.u.mulus clouds, and then on the cold waters, he said to himself; "A soldier boy that can climb the elements in the Crater fight and b.u.t.t his head agin the stars, aint pestered by little diffikilties when it comes to drownin n.i.g.g.e.rs."

He threw off his coat, took up the crowbar and went to work. The ap.r.o.n was then propped up upon skids too weak to bear the weight of a carriage, but so skillfully as to ward off suspicion in case the structure or any part of it should fall. At 7:30 sharp the work was done and completely done, the pitfall was laid, and well laid, and at 7:40 a black cavalcade, noisy and ruffianly, were galloping on the way to take by force actual possession of Ingleside, against the emphatic protest of its owner and against the law of the land. They were marching with their trombones and their flags, flags striped and starred, just like the one that laughed in the faces of the starved negroes that marched in platoons, desperately hungry, out of the back doors of the Commissariat.

Just like the one ruffian Laflin wrapped about his beastly person when he said to poor oppressed Seymour, "My freedmen may make reprisals whenever they please in this accursed country." Just like the flag that waved from the stern sheets of the batteau, that cold sleety night, when Washington was cutting the ice out of his way upon the Delaware. Just like the "Old Glory" that Ethan Allen wound around his head at Ticonderoga. Just like the flag that thrilled every heart, that Philip Barton Key immortalized in the first battle hymn of the Republic.

"Tis the Star Spangled Banner long may it wave, Over the land of the free and the home of the brave."

"Ah, no," the Southern patriot would say "Our hot sun has tarnished its bright stars, has made black and dingy the blue field, and see! it is blushing ever so red, as it is made to accentuate the horrors of reconstruction." But the flags were coming, so were the horses, and so were the negroes, and so were the trombones, and so was death, each in a vain attempt to bridge the chasm before 8 o'clock sharp. Ah, that crash, that shriek, that doom! The affrightened horses break from the descending carriage and scamper like zebras into the open fields of Ingleside. The uniformed escort turn their horses heads and scamper toward the town, even the trombones have ceased to sound now, but there are echoing hoofs, and there are the wails of the dying, coming up from the darkened abyss, and the moon is still bathing its face in the watery clouds overhead. What! art thou a prophetess, Clarissa, that thou shouldst have said "I specks when dat time c.u.ms yer will be ded and gone rate strait to torment?"

CHAPTER XIX.

THE CORONER'S INQUEST.

The revolutionary iconoclasts had fully established their sway in the worst and most irritating forms; their resources, directed by irresponsible and offensive authority--controlling the fortunes, hopes and fate of all cla.s.ses--ramified and extended throughout the South.

Mountebanks sat in judgment upon the lives and liberties of a vanquished people; everywhere violating all the guaranties of freedom. The alarming vibrations of this unhallowed power were felt in every home. It was a matter of anxious and fearful thought, "What must be the result of collisions that are sure to come?" It were vain to threaten consequences badgered as the people were into pa.s.sive submission by a power that ruled supreme--a power that was conducting its operations with unmeasured cruelty wherever the ill-starred Confederacy had raised its hated crest. Retaliation swift and sure pursued a few of the misguided negroes whose black hands were upraised to smite the South. Now and then, under the shadow of the citadel that was garrisoned by the pensioned slaves, the victims of the murderous knife or deadly bullet would be found. Hence the South was the harvest field for the functionaries who delighted in the sudden visitations of Providence, and who looked for the vultures upon circling pinions above the river as couriers of cheering messages; in the language of the negroes, as the "sky sheruffs" who served due notice upon the oppressed taxpayers of this patronizing government of the freedmen.

By a custom that obtained very generally in the South in the post-bellum days, there was a division of offices inequitably made, however, between the carpet-baggers and the negroes; and to the negroes was a.s.signed among others of inconsiderable revenue, the office of county coroner.

This office for many generations before the war was a sinecure, but a pictorial page now appears in the history of reconstruction, electrotyped in disgusting caricatures. The office of coroner was constructed out of a mediaeval original; it was both ancient and honorable--a remnant of the feudal system that superseded other forms of government in Europe before and since the crusade. So considerable were its revenues and dignity, that the lords chief justices of the King's Bench of England coveted and enjoyed its emoluments and t.i.tle; and to descend from an antiquity so dignified and remote, from bewigged and begowned lords justices to 15th amendment freedmen, was quite a sheer descent. But reconstruction came with fantastical ideals; with its own peculiar and irritating forms and inst.i.tutions, and the political fabric was ludicrously inverted and the freedmen appeared to walk through the air on stilts.

When post-mortem investigations were exceedingly rare in a county that boasted of its healthfulness and its obedience to law, the per diem of the coroner was fixed by legislative enactment to ten dollars, with certain enumerated charges, such as summoning, swearing and empanelling the jury of inquest. But now there was an epidemic of accidental deaths in this phenomenal era. Among the negroes the most natural thing was to die--to die from exposure, from starvation, and sometimes from heroic doses of manhood suffrage. They died in the river, in the creek, in the lowgrounds. Old Uncle Elijah Thorpe, the coroner, would sit moodily by the hour on his dilapidated stoop, intently gazing into the firmament above him for the appearance of "de sky shurruff," and when the circling scavengers of the country would flap and dip their pinions below the fringe of the cypresses that bordered the river, his spirits would revive, and refreshing smiles would play hide and seek in the black caverns of his face.

The old coroner like Judge Blackstock, appeared to be the "survival of the fittest." He had come out of the toils of slavery with his hair as white as the snow, and with lines in his black face as if a "new ground plow" had been running furrows into it. He was an old man when the great guns were celebrating the emanc.i.p.ation of four million slaves. He was an old man when the bosses placed into his h.o.r.n.y, gouty hand the elective franchise. He was an old man when he looked out one night, when the stars were twinkling in the mid-heavens, and saw the luminary of freedom with its bewildering corruscations. He was the advanced guard of the freedmen who welcomed the agent of the bureau with waving of hats and clapping of resounding hands. He was the file leader of Laflin's black reinforcements. When Elijah began to grow rich out of the spoils of his office he observed in a confidential way to Laflin,

"Ef de n.i.g.g.e.rs keeps er gitten sa.s.sinated lak deys agwine on und de jurer don't gin out, dis heer Soufland is agwine ter be a sametary from one eend to de tother; the buzzards is lak a pa.s.sel ob rode hands er c.u.mmin und agwine," and then to disarm the carpet-bagger's cupidity he continued with a lugubrious cast of countenance, "By de time I gits de rashuns from de kommissery und de sperrits fur de jurer dars a mity leetle spec left ob de poreseeds. De pay boss haint ekal to de sponsuality of de offis."