Gabriel Tolliver: A Story of Reconstruction

by Joel Chandler Harris

It was hinted in some of the early chapters of this chronicle that none of the characters would turn out to be very heroic, but this was a mistake. The chronicler had forgotten a few episodes that grew out of the expedition of Cephas to Fort Pulaski—episodes that should have stood out clear in his memory from the first. Cephas was very meek and humble when he started on his expedition, so much so that there were long moments when he would have given a large fortune, if he had possessed it, to be safe at home with his mother. A hundred times he asked himself why he had been foolish enough to come away from home, and trust himself to the cold mercy of the world; and he promised himself faithfully that if he ever got back home alive, he would never leave there again.

Captain Falconer was very kind and attentive to the lad, but he was also very inquisitive. He asked Cephas a great many artful questions, all leading up to the message he was to deliver to Gabriel; but the instructions he had received from Mr. Sanders made Cephas more than a match for the Captain. When the lad came to the years of maturity, he often wondered how a plain and comparatively ignorant countryman could foresee the questions that were to be asked, and provide simple and satisfactory answers to them; and the matter is still a mystery.

Well, Cephas was not a hero when he started, and if the truth is to be told, he developed none of the symptoms until he had returned home safely, accompanied by Mr. Sanders. Then he became the lion of the village, and was sought after by old and young. All wanted to hear the story of his wonderful adventures. He speedily became a celebrated Cephas, and when he found that he was really regarded as a hero by his schoolmates, and by some of the young women, he was quick to appropriate the character. He became reticent; he went about with a sort of weary and travel-worn look, as if he had seen everything that was worth seeing, and heard everything that was worth hearing.

Now, what Cephas had seen and heard was bad enough. He could hardly be brought to believe that the haggard and wild-eyed young fellow who answered to Gabriel's name at the fort was the Gabriel that he had known, and when he made up his mind that it really was Gabriel, he couldn't hold the tears back. "Brace up, old man," said Gabriel. It was then in a choking voice that Cephas delivered Mr. Sanders's message, using the dog-latin which they both knew so well. And in that tongue Gabriel told Cephas of the tortures to which he and his fellow-prisoners had been subjected, of the horrors of the sweat-boxes, and the terrors of the wrist-rack. So effective was the narrative that Gabriel rattled off in the school tongue, that when he was ordered back to his solitary cell, Cephas turned away weeping. He was no hero then; he was simply a small boy with a tender heart.

There were grave faces at Shady Dale when Cephas told what he had seen and heard. Major Tomlin Perdue, of Halcyondale, became almost savage when he heard of the indignities to which the unfortunate young men had been subjected. He wrote a card and published it in the Malvern Recorder, and the card was so much to the purpose, and created such indignation in the State, that the authorities at Washington took cognisance thereof, and issued orders that there was to be no more torture of the prisoners. This fact, however, was not known until months afterward, and, meanwhile, the newspapers of Georgia were giving a wide publicity to the cruelties which had been practised on the young men, and radicalism became the synonym of everything that was loathsome and detestable. Reprisals were made in all parts of the State, and as was to be expected, the negroes were compelled to bear the brunt of all the excitement and indignation.

The tale that Cephas told to Mr. Sanders was modest when compared to the inventions that occurred to his mind after he found how easy it was to be a hero. Though he pretended to be heartily tired of the whole subject, there was nothing that tickled him more than to be cornered by a crowd of his schoolmates and comrades, all intent on hearing anew the awful recital which Cephas had prepared after his return.

One of the first to seek Cephas out was Nan Dorrington, and this was precisely what the young hero wanted. He was very cold and indifferent when Nan besought him to tell her all about his trip. How did he enjoy himself? and didn't he wish he was back at home many a time? And what did Paul and Jesse have to say? Ah, Cephas had his innings now!

"I didn't see Paul and Jesse," replied Cephas, "and I didn't see Francis Bethune."

"Did they have them hid?" asked Nan.

"I don't know. The one I saw was in a black dungeon. I couldn't hardly see his face, and when I did see it, I was sorry I saw it." Cephas leaned back against the fence with the air of a fellow who has seen too much. Nan was dying to ask a hundred questions about the one Cephas had seen, but she resented his indifferent and placid attitude. All heroes are placid and indifferent when they discuss their deeds, but they wouldn't be if the public in general felt toward them as Nan felt toward Cephas. The only reason she didn't seize the little fellow and give him a good shaking was the fact that she was dying to hear all he had to say about his visit, and all about Gabriel.