From what I had myself seen, I could believe all this of Nathaniel Bradley; and some other things equally to his discredit, of which the black skiffman forthwith informed me.
But I wanted to know of something that interested me much more—the relations that existed between this insulated cotton-planter and Jake's own master. I had learnt enough to know that they were intimate. I wished also to know why.
I knew enough of Mississippi planter society to know that character had little to do with social standing. The "chivalry" that had settled down on the late Choctaw lands was far from being without reproach. With it, riches, and a ready use of the revolver, were often the chief titles to respect; and Nat Bradley, bully as he was, would be just the man to "shine" in the society of Vicksburg and its environs—a town which only a few years before had actually been taken possession of by a score of ruffian "sportsmen." They had for weeks held carnival in its streets, insulting every citizen who dared to gainsay them.
It is true these "sportsmen" were in the end punished; but the old leaven still stayed; and at the time I write of, was almost rife as ever. What I had heard of Bradley, both in Tennessee and since, made him by no means an exceptional character—only a type of the Mississippian of that time.
It was the character of Henry Woodley that caused me to feel surprise at the association; for the latter so far from being of the bully class was altogether the opposite. Though living a life that might be almost termed rough, and associating in the chase with rough men, he was of a refined and sensitive nature—I might almost say timid. Keen hunter as he was, it may seem a contradiction; but such was in reality the fact.
Why should such a man find congeniality in the company of Nat Bradley?
To talk of my host and his affairs was a delicate subject, especially with his own slave. I should have avoided it, but for the interest I had begun to feel in one nearly related to him.
Thinking of her, I could not restrain myself, from that indirect questioning that might give me satisfaction.
"This Mr. Bradley don't appear to be much of a favorite of yours, Jake?"
"Nor nob'dy ess's, massa. All our darky hate um like de pisen-snake."