Hatchie, the Guardian Slave; or, The Heiress of Bellevue / A Tale of the Mississippi and the South-west

by Warren T. Ashton

Dr. Vaudelier was a benevolent man; and his benevolence was still his friend. It kept his heart from corroding, or becoming entirely cold. His professional services he freely gave to the poor "squatter," woodman and boatman, whenever he could learn that they were needed. The old negro made frequent visits to the shore to procure provisions and other necessaries, and informed his master if any of his indigent neighbors needed his aid. Dr. Vaudelier, as far as he was known, was regarded with profound respect and affection, and none were disposed to disturb his privacy when it was understood that entire seclusion was his desire.

Dr. Vaudelier reclined on the cushions in the stern-sheets of his boat. With an abstracted mind he gazed upon the gloomy outlines of the shore. Nature in this sombre dress seemed in unison with the gloom of his own soul. Scarcely conscious of his actions, he managed the boat with the most consummate skill, avoiding the unseen shoal and the unfavorable current, but still never allowing the sails to shiver. Far ahead of him he descried the blazing chimneys of a steamer. It was night, and he was secure from the prying gaze or the rude hail of the voyagers.

His reflections were gloomy. He reviewed his earlier years. He thought of his affectionate daughter, who had promised to be the stay of his declining years, perhaps at that moment a wanderer and an outcast. He had heard nothing of her since her departure. He had made no effort to ascertain her fate. He considered his whole course of conduct to her, the nature of the education he had imparted to her, the example he had set for her imitation. His reflections were not altogether satisfactory, and kindled a few compunctious thoughts. The blame had not been all on the side of the daughter. His misanthropic character was the origin of some part of it.

Thus he mused, and thus dawned upon his mind the first gleams of repentance. His melancholy temperament had caused the loss of his daughter; and, for the time, it grew repugnant. He felt that he was not living the life his Maker intended he should live.

His meditations were suddenly interrupted by a tremendous explosion, and he was at once satisfied that it proceeded from the steamer he had before observed. His supposition was soon verified by the flames he saw rising from the spot where he had last seen her. She was, he judged, at least three miles distant. His benevolent disposition, stimulated by the reflection, and, perhaps, by some unconscious resolution of the previous hour, prompted him to hasten to her relief. Leaving the helm, he took from the little cabin a stay-sail, and by the light of the lantern attached it to the lines and hoisted it. The lively little craft, feeling the additional impulse, careened till her gunnel was nearly submerged, and cut her way with increased velocity through the unfavorable current. Half an hour elapsed before he approached near enough to make out the condition of the shattered steamer. Another steamer lay as near to her as the flames, which had apparently been partly subdued, would permit. Men were busily engaged in throwing on water, and their efforts promised to be crowned with success, for the volume of flame was rapidly decreasing. A line was passed from the bow of the Chalmetta to the Flatfoot, No. 3 (for these were the steamers), which enabled the latter to control the drift of the former. Dr. Vaudelier was too far off, however, to form a very correct idea of the casualty.

Portions of the wreck were floating by him, and occasionally his boat struck against a timber or cask. While anxiously straining his vision, to ascertain further particulars of the disaster, he heard a faint cry close ahead of him. By the light of his lantern, which he had hung up by the foremast, to attract the eye of any sufferer who might need aid, he saw a man clinging to a barrel floating by him. Hastily letting go the halyards, the fore and main sails came down, the boat was put about, and Dr. Vaudelier, with much exertion, succeeded in saving the almost dying sufferer. Conveying him to the cabin, which was of sufficient size to contain two berths, he placed him upon one of them, and proceeded to ascertain his ailments. These, as far as he could discover them, consisted of a broken arm, a severe contusion of the head, and several severe scalds. The wounded man's endeavors to aid in his own rescue had been too violent, and on being placed in the berth he had fainted. After administering such relief as he was able, he returned to the stern-sheets, hoisted the sails, and the boat, which had been drifting down-stream, again approached the wreck.

The flames of the Chalmetta were now extinguished. Before the benevolent physician could reach her, the Flatfoot had taken her in tow, and both were rapidly leaving him. Further pursuit was useless; so, taking in the stay-sail, he put the boat about, and again turned his attention to the sufferer.

The boat's progress, assisted by the current, was very rapid, and she soon reached the island. The experienced eye of her manager discerned through the darkness the narrow opening of the little stream. Taking in the sails and lowering the masts, the little craft glided through the rivulet, and in less time than is taken to relate it was securely moored in front of the cottage. The old negro, bewildered by the unseasonable summons, assisted in conveying the wounded stranger to the cottage.

Dr. Vaudelier, after a more thorough examination of his patient than he had been able to make before, was pleased to find that his wounds, though serious, were not of a dangerous character. He set the broken arm, and, by the exercise of the great skill for which he had been distinguished, restored him to consciousness, and made sure his future recovery.

"Where is she? Is she safe?" murmured the sufferer, as his returning consciousness afforded a partial knowledge of his condition. "Where am I?"