Hatchie stood lost in thought on the gallery long after De Guy had conducted his mistress to the dinner-table. The mulatto was in a quandary,—a worse quandary than the congressional hero of Kentucky has described in any of his thousand relations of hair-breadth escapes. His mistress was fairly committed to her new destiny, and how could he extricate her?
He resolved to do the only thing he possibly could do,—to watch unceasingly, to be ever ready to defend his mistress in case of necessity. The papers which De Guy had brought from Bellevue, and which he heard described by the doctor, did much to assure him that no evil was intended towards her; but the man who had been a villain once was, in his opinion, exceedingly apt to be so again.
Emily was ill at ease during the passage; not that she felt unsafe, or dreaded treachery, but something seemed to whisper that evil might be near her. An undefined sensation of doubt seemed to beset her path, and urge upon her the unpleasant necessity of extreme caution. She was conscious of being engaged in a good work. She had forgiven her great enemy, and was now on her way to smooth his dying pillow. There was something lofty and beautiful in the thought, and she derived much consolation from it.
De Guy rarely intruded himself upon her notice during the passage. At meal-hours he was scrupulously polite and attentive, but he was as cold and formal as she could desire. She never ventured upon the promenade deck, unless her faithful Hatchie was near.
The mulatto, with all his watchfulness, was unable to discover any indications of treachery on the part of De Guy, though an apparently confidential conversation with the captain of the steamer, on the night before their arrival at New Orleans, had rather an unfavorable appearance.
It was late at night when the Montezuma arrived at New Orleans. The steamer quietly took her berth at the levee, so that few of the passengers took any notice of their arrival, and contentedly turned over in their berths to wait the advent of the coming day.
Hatchie, who occupied a room near the boiler deck, had been awakened by the confusion of making fast the steamer. His watchful vigil over the safety of his mistress did not permit him to slumber while the possibility of danger existed. He had, therefore, risen; but scarcely had he completed his dress, when the door of his room was suddenly opened, and himself violently seized by two stout men. The attack had been so sudden, and the movements of the assailants so well directed, that resistance was hopeless. Before he fully realized the presence of his foes, his hands were pinioned behind him. In this condition, without knowing why or by whom he was assailed, he was hurried away to the calaboose.
At an early hour in the morning carriages and drays began to assemble on the levee, and all the noise and bustle of landing passengers, baggage and freight, commenced.
Emily Dumont, as soon as it was fairly light, rose from her couch, and made her preparations to leave the steamer. Fully equipped for her journey to Bellevue, she entered the cabin, where De Guy soon presented himself.
"Where is Hatchie?" was the first question she asked; for Hatchie had always been on the spot whenever and wherever she needed his services.