THE WRIT OF EJECTMENT.
Shortly after the events narrated in the last chapter, the announcement was made by Clarissa that a white man, "und dat biggety nigger Ellic, was at de do to see ole marser." The interview occurred on the verandah.
Abram Laflin, the carpet-bagger, introduced the subject as follows:
"I observed" said he, "in passing the court house on yesterday, that you had advertised my home to be sold to pay a debt of five thousand dollars due you. Will you be kind enough to make the calculation and inform me what is due you, principal and interest?"
"Certainly I will, with great pleasure," replied the Colonel. "Here is the account accurately computed."
"Make your calculations, Mr. Wiggins, and see if the gentleman is correct," he said to the negro.
Mr. Wiggins adjusted his gold rimmed eyeglasses, fingered a moment the gold chain upon his immaculate shirt bosom, scratched his head a time or two with the point of his gold pencil and passed the statement to his lord and master.
"Ah, ha," exclaimed the carpet-bagger, "Four thousand three hundred and fifty-seven dollars and thirty-three and one-third cents, and not five thousand dollars as you have it, Mr. Seymour."
"Ah, very well" replied Mr. Seymour "You may settle by my calculation if you wish, if not the sale shall go on."
"Give me the paper and pencil, Mr. Wiggins, I will make the calculation for myself," said the carpet-bagger. "The result as you have it sir, is correct. Here is your money sir."
"Now, sir, I will show you the gate," replied the Colonel with asperity. "Good morning," and the two men locked arms and went away.
As the enraged man was entering the verandah, he was greeted unexpectedly and obsequiously by Joshua, with "Compliments, ole Marser. I have fotched you some long-necked gode seeds; spected yer would lak to hab dem, mars Jon."
"Yes, Yes, I am glad you remembered me Joshua. I thought my old slave had quite forgotten me," replied the Colonel.
"You mout hab spected dat ole masser, but I knowed all de time you wus de onliest fren I had in de wurrell," answered the old negro.
"I am surprised to see you looking so badly, Joshua. Why your hair is as white as cotton, and your clothes too are ragged and dirty, and there are great hollows in your cheeks; what have you done with yourself old man?"
The old negro dashed a great big tear from each eye as he replied hesitatingly, "Better ax tother fokeses dat ar questun, ole marsa; better ax de bosses at de kommissery; I'se been froo de froos sens I seed you sar, mommucked up monstrus, dat I is. Dem dar pizen'd carpet-baggers tole us cullud fokses ef we didn't do jess lak dey sed, dat dey was agwine to put us bak in slavery, und dey skeert us jam ni to def, dat dey did. Dey uprared a grate big sto in de town, und sakes alive! de moest lasses und horg meat und flower und backer, und sich lak yu nebber did see, mars Jon, und likker, too; und wun ob de bosses he cum to de do und sez, sez he boys, fetch yer happysaks und jimmyjons ebery Tuesday, und eberry Saddy nite de Lord sens und fill dem chok full. I clar marser, I felt jess lak I wus in Paradise, wid de angels er harpin pon golden harps und soppin lasses; und I took dat white man at his word, und I'se been on de rode twixt my house und de sto fur seben weeks, backards und forrards, a totin my ole jimmyjon un happy-sak; I clar pon my Marser in Heben, I haint eben got de rappins ob my finger from dat sto yit. De boss wud laf und say de rashuns had gin out fore I got dere, und to cum agin nex Tuesday sho; und mars Jon, I'se jess nachully a tired to def, widdout a moufful ob wittels in my house fur me nur Hanner nudder, und we bof a perishin to def. Ole marsa, hain't yer got nary ole ash tater, nur a leetle piece ob meat skin yer kin gib dis ole darky jess to pacify his stummik, seems lak I jess hab to draw my galluses rale tite roun it to keep it frum creepin fru my mouf."
The old soldier of fifty battles looked down upon the poor old negro in his squalor and emaciation and wretchedness, and the tears came into his eyes, too, as he said,
"If there is anything in this house to eat, Joshua, you shall have all you want. I pity you from my heart, old negro. These people are not your friends nor mine. The day will come when you will know them as they are—enemies of every one who will not wash their dirty linen."
"Eber yu spoke de truf, Mars Jon, you spoke it den—hit's de God's truf."
"Clarissa!" called the Colonel, "Clarissa!"
"Sar!" came Clarissa's voice from the kitchen. "I'se er cummin, ole marsa, jes es fast es I ken."
As she saw Joshua she threw up her hands and impulsively exclaimed,
"Fur de Lawd's sake, Joshaway, whot do ail yer eny way? I faut yu wuz er gostis er settin outen here wid ole marser. Po ole nigger! Duz sis Hanner luk lak yu duz? De grabeyard is er yornin fer yu rite now." And Clarissa placed her hand feelingly upon the old negro's white head, saying the while, "Po Joshaway! Po nigger!" while Joshua covered his face with his knotty hands and his feeble body shook as with a spasm.
In obedience to orders, Clarissa placed before Joshua a huge dish of boiled ham, cabbage, potatoes—Irish and sweet—and the old negro in the joy of his heart sprang nimbly to his aged and aching feet and "cut de piggen whing jes ter sho ole marsa how spry und suple he wus."
"Bress Gawd!" he gratefully exclaimed, "I'se been happy two times in my life—wun time when I jined de miluntary cumpny when de niggers wus playin 'de jay bird' on der tootin horns (den I wus er fule), und tother time wus dis here time."
After devouring like a starved brute the bulk of the food before him, he considerately placed into his old beaver hat choice bits and fragments, layer upon layer, with the observation,
"I wudn't er tasted a moufful o' dis good truck ef I hadn't er node Hanner wuz ergwine ter git her shar. Jes er watchin me now lak a sparrer hawk er settin on er lim! Tank yer a fousun times, ole marser! Tank yu, too, sis Clarsy; tank eberybody in de whole wurld. Ole marsa," he continued, "mout I hab jes wun wurd wid yer?"
"Why, certainly, Joshua; what more can I do for you?" asked the old man.
The old negro put his hand to his face as if he were shielding his eyes, and asked sheepishly,
"Mars Jon, ef me und Hanner wus ter turn niggers ergin, jes lak slabery times, wud yer tuck us home—yu und Miss Alice?"
"I would not have you do that, Joshua; but whenever you like, you and Hannah can bring your belongings to the office and Alice and I will always be your friends. You shall never suffer any more for something to eat or wear as long as we live."
"Tank yer, ole marser, tank yu, a fousand times!" Joshua replied, as he brushed away great liquid beads that were chasing each other down his haggard cheeks. "Now I mus be ergwine, Mars Jon," and the old stiffened joints bore homeward a filled body and a full heart, as he sang in an untuned but sweet voice,
"Oh de way's so delightful when I sarves de Lord,
Oh de way's so delightful, journey on."
As the sun was going down the old Colonel looked across the field and saw Joshua and Hannah with great bundles upon their heads coming toward the mansion—coming back to the old home; coming back to be just as humble, just as faithful, just as watchful as in the happy old days; coming back to run errands if need be, with joints stiffened by hardships and old age, but with hearts so light and trustful; coming back like homing pigeons to roost under old master's wing in the dove cote. Was there ever such a people before? The sweetest experience in the domesticity of the South will vanish forever when the last old white woolly head is laid low, when the ghostly smile is given to old mistress from the death bed, and the last good-bye is said to "ole marser und ole missis" as the death film overlays the eye. "Tak keer ob yosefs, ole marser und ole missis, und meet me up yander." So thought the old master as with liquid eyes he looked upward to the vaulted sky.
"Seben weeks" the old negro weighted down by the ever accumulating burdens of life—its disappointments, its troubles—had with unsteady gait and frequent halts stepped off each rod and furlong twixt "my house und de sto, backards und forards, toting de jimmyjon und de happy-sak." "Fur seben weeks" the torrid sun with its blistering heat had scorched the old negro's head, and crisped the old negro's black skin until it was spotted. For seven weeks a vacuum deep and broad lay between the inner coatings of the famished stomach immeasurable and unfathomable. For seven weeks "Old Glory" waved its welcome at one end of the commissariat, and stark, pallid want walked out without a ration and flaunted its rags at the other. Poor old negro, but what worth is freedom without its pains and penalties; what worth is the huge commissariat without the freedmen, and what worth is the freedmen without the commissariat? Oh how happy the old negro in "de offis of ole marser." By fits and starts old Joshua would awake throughout the nights and call to Hannah, "Ole womun, duz yer kno whar yer is a roosting to night? Aint agwine to de crick fur catfish in de mornin. I kno whar my wittles is er cummin frum, bress de Lord. Cum rain ur shine, I haint nebber agwine hongry agin, no mo. Old marsa dun und said, ole nigger yer shall nebber want fur sumfing to eat und sumfing to ware no mo, und I nebber cotched ole Mars Jon in a lie yit. Has yu, Hanner?"
"No, dat I haint, nur Miss Alice nudder," replied Hannah. "I haint got no mo skeer erbout me, Joshaway, dan a billy gote. I kno's when Miss Alice flings a dumplin in de pot for hersef, she is agwine to fling wun in dare fur me too."
"Pears lak, Hanner, I kin heer my stummick ebery now und den nachully singing de ole ship ob Zion, hit is so full ob ole marser's good wittles."
Bright and early the next morning the old negro was standing in the wide open door of the office, swinging his arms in exercise like a prize fighter, and occasionally "cuttin de piggen whing out of doors," as he said, "dat yung misses mout see how he could twist his foots erbout." As he was skipping about the yard he discovered as it were, a moccasin snake; a red, white, and blue stake about two feet long in the ground near the office, and he knew what it was and called in a fit of rage to Hannah. "Jess cum und see what dem dratted niggers has dun gon und dun. Lord a massy! Duz dem pizened willians fink dey kin oberride dis here plantashun wid me, und Ned, und ole marsa, und yung misses, und yu und Claissy a fendin for deselvs? I'se agwine to lode up my muskit dis bery nite, und de fust nigger dat cums pestering our white fokses on dis here lan, I'se agwine to shoot two pounds of hot led into his karkas. Tak dis ole streked striped stick, Hanner, und burn it up," and he jerked the peg out of the ground as if it had been an aching molar in his gum, and threw it violently into the fire-place.
"Who upon de yurth did fetch dese pizened stiks on dis lan? I'm ergwine er roun dis yer plantashun, und maybe I'll fine sum mo ob de ring-streeked-und-striped things, er painted jes like 'ole Glory' out yander in de town, jes ter fool niggers und git dem sassinated lak er passel o' polecats."
While Joshua was making the "grand rounds" over the plantation a carriage with a pair of beautiful, high-stepping horses rolled up to the door, and two "gemmen of culler" alighted and walked with unnatural dignity to the door and rang the bell. Clarissa, of course, obeyed the call, and in their presence was so bewildered that she asked them into the library. Placing into her hands their cards de visite, upon which were written the names of the "Hon. Alexander Wiggins" and the "Hon. Ephraim Gillam," she carried them to Colonel Seymour.
Instantly the devil was aroused in the old man, and he told Clarissa to tell them to get out of the house.
Clarissa, in executing the order, said, "Ole marser says how dat yu niggers must go back out er doors. Jes tak yosef outen dis house immegit." Then upon recognizing one of the negroes, she enquired, "Haint dat yer Ellick, wid dem fine close und shoes, und gold specks, und bever hat, comin into dis house lak yer was a king, or a gineral, or sumfing I don't kno what? What is yer doing here in ole marser's house, anyhow? I specks yer is up to sum devilment rate now."
"My name is not Ellic, replied the negro, und I am not up to devilment. I am de prieter ob dis manshun house, und my stinguished friend, Mr. Ephrum Gillum und me, hez cum to sarv a rit ob jectment upon Mr. Semo fortwid."
"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 nigger better tak yerselvs offen dis lan fore marser 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 niggers. Dat's de bed yer is ergwine ter git ter morrer at ate o'clock, 'member dat! Ugh! I specks when dat time cums yer will be ded und gon rite strait ter torment."
Clarissa seized the tongs and prodded the document 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 niggers, 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 document 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 marser? 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 cum ob tother ones? Sarve Ellick rite ef he gits masskreed; but sposin yer und Ned gits kilt, whot is ergwine ter cum ob me und Miss Alice? Yer is too brash, ole marser."
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 niggers, 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 cums 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 niggers 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 bloody hands, and the crocodiles of the Nile shall devour your carcass."
"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 nigger 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 passul 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 pass 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 niggers drounded?" he asked.
"No, only frightened so they will let me alone," replied the Colonel.
"Frightened!" ejaculated 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 niggers 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 passed 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 Titus 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, cumulus clouds, and then on the cold waters, he said to himself; "A soldier boy that can climb the elements in the Crater fight and butt his head agin the stars, aint pestered by little diffikilties when it comes to drownin niggers."
He threw off his coat, took up the crowbar and went to work. The apron 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 cums yer will be ded and gone rate strait to torment?"