Harrington: A Story of True Love

by William Douglas O'Connor

There was an instant’s hesitation, and then, with a sudden movement, they receded tumultuously, and poured down the wooden steps amidst a chorus of shouts and cries, which was taken up below, and swelled into a ponderous uproar.

Returning hastily to the room, Brown entered the hollow square, and grasped Lafitte by the right arm. Harrington followed him and took his place behind, and the square closed.

“Forward, march!”

As the words burst from the mouth of the negro, they marched from the room, only breaking their order to get through the doorways. The moment they appeared on the steps, the whole wild, tossing, sunlit multitude sent up an appalling and tremendous howling roar. Lafitte almost fainted, but encouraged by Muriel, he rallied, and keeping his head on his breast, without looking at the crowd, he was got down the steps, and the next instant the little phalanx, joining together with locked arms, plunged into the living sea, which closed around them amidst an awful din.

They turned up the sidewalk, stepping quickly, with the mob parting before them, and following on their left flank and behind them, and the tossing and roaring multitude in the middle of the street crowding them hard, and at times driving them to the wall of houses on their left. Amidst the uproarious clamor, Brown’s voice pealed incessantly, calling on those before him to clear the way, and to those on his left to stand back. As Muriel had foreseen, her presence was an invaluable aid, for at the sight of the beautiful, calm lady, the foremost of the flanking multitude would crowd back upon those behind them, and driven forward again, would again crowd and struggle backward. Soon, too, the imitative faculty had its way, and the phalanx deepened by the accession of other negroes who locked arms with it, till it filled the sidewalk to the kerb-stone, which in turn opposed a slight barrier to the dense press of the multitude. But the passage through the stifling crush was still arduous, and the heat and foul odors made it more so. Awful, too, were the howls and cries and imprecations which greeted every glimpse of the Southerner. At that moment, Lafitte would have willingly given everything he was worth in the world to be out of the danger which menaced him.

The height of the ordeal was when they reached Grove street, where they had to cross to the carriage, with the multitude on each side of them. It was but a short distance, but the phalanx, struggling and swaying in the dense and roaring press, had to literally tear its way through. There was already hustling and pushing, with angry words flying, and Harrington saw that presently it would come to blows, when all would be lost. Bending forward, he shouted in Brown’s ear to take the lead and endeavor to clear the way. The negro instantly dropped Lafitte’s arm, which Harrington seized, and gaining the van of the phalanx, he burst upon the crowd with all the strength of his body and the thunder of his voice. They surged back for an instant, leaving a clear space in front.

“Quick step! forward!” pealed the trumpet tones of Harrington.

The phalanx made a desperate rush, Brown flying in the van, and in an instant the carriage was gained. Quick as thought Lafitte was forced into it, and Harrington and Muriel sprang in beside him. The crowd poured around with a clamor of shouts and cries, and while the horses, with the frightened driver at their heads, reared and plunged, the carriage itself, seized by the crowd, began to sway as if it would be overthrown. Lafitte fainted dead away.

“Quick!” vociferated Brown to the driver. “Mount the box, and drive like mad!”

The driver scrambled to his seat, and lashed the horses, while the negro sprang inside. Away they rattled at a furious pace, with the howling multitude surging along on either side and behind them. Muriel and Harrington, flushed and bathed with perspiration, sat, with disordered dresses, holding up the inanimate form of the slaveholder, while Brown, in a reek of sweat, busied himself with beating off the hands that clutched momently at the carriage door. Along Grove street into May, and from thence up West Centre into Myrtle, the frightened horses tore like a whirlwind; but before they reached Myrtle, the clamor was receding, and the crowd had thinned and fallen behind, unable to keep up with them, but still following in the distance.