Marcy, the Refugee

by Harry Castlemon

Never in his life had Marcy seen a man so astonished and frightened as the overseer was at that moment. He dared not resist, and he could not speak when Hawkins drew his arms behind his back and fastened them there with the rope. As to the negroes, who were quick to understand the situation, they would have danced and shouted for joy had they not known that such a demonstration would be displeasing to their young master; so they contented themselves with bringing forward one of their number, who bared his brawny shoulder, and by the action called Marcy's attention to a long ugly-looking welt that had been left there by a blow from the overseer's raw-hide.

"Whoop!" yelled Julius; and, to quote from the field hands, he immediately "drapped his wing"; that is to say, he humped up his shoulders and back, dropped his chin upon his breast, raised one foot from the ground, and began hopping toward the overseer on the other. In a minute more Hanson would have been served as Captain Beardsley was the night before, if Marcy had not put a stop to the little darky's antics by taking hold of his collar and giving him a twist that sent him ten feet away.

"I know what you uns are going to do, and I aint no ways scared of you," said Hanson, who at last mustered up courage enough to speak; but his white face and trembling limbs belied his words. "My friends will make you suffer for this."

"That's all right," said Hawkins cheerfully. "If they don't leave the country this very night, like they have been told to do, you will see 'em in Plymouth to-morrer. Now, will you go peaceable, or shall I walk you along by the neck?"

The Confederate soldier picked up his rifle and waved his hand in the direction of the great house, and the prisoner started toward it without hesitating or saying another word; while Marcy ran on ahead to tell his mother what he had done. Although the field was in plain sight no one about the house had noticed that there was anything unusual going on, and Marcy went in at the side door and made his way to his mother's room before she knew he was on the plantation. Marcy did some rapid talking, for time was precious, and he might be in danger as long as he remained with her; but he told her of everything that had happened to him since the Home Guards drove him from home, and when he said that he and Julius were on their way to Plymouth to deliver Hanson into the hands of the Federals, she did not try to turn him from his purpose. She simply said that she thought he was engaged in a desperate undertaking.

"Desperate cases require desperate remedies," answered Marcy, looking out of the window just as Hawkins and his prisoner passed by. The soldier was walking by Hanson's side and Julius was acting as rear-guard, advancing first on one foot and then on the other, and all the while shaking his head as if he were possessed by an almost irresistible desire to plant it in the small of the overseer's back. "Here he is now," continued Marcy.

"Come and take a last look at him."

"I don't want to," replied Mrs. Gray. "I hope I shall never see him again."

"That is what I hope, and what I am working for," said Marcy. "Good-by, and remember that I will stop here on my way to camp. Don't worry, for I am going among friends."

So saying, Marcy ran down the stairs and out of the house. Arriving at the landing he found there but one boat suitable for his purpose, and that was the skiff Captain Benton gave him on the night he left the gunboat. It was old and leaky, but large enough to accommodate three; so it was shoved from the bank and Hanson was assisted to the seat he was to occupy in the bow. Then Julius got in and picked up the oars, while Marcy lingered to take leave of Ben Hawkins.