MISTAKEN IDENTITY AND ESCAPE FROM BRUIN.
While he was whiling away the weary hours in jail another scene was
being enacted at the plantation. Railroads were not as fashionable and
plentiful as now, and had not driven the boats from the river, on which
was a magnificent line of steamers which plowed the waters from Mobile
to Montgomery. They were veritable floating palaces, and were the
admiration of all. The writer of this, though in middle life, never
tires looking at a fine steamer or train of cars. This was so of
Elsie, who frequently went to the plantation landing, carrying Octavia
with her.
At this time a magnificent side-wheel steamer had been built, and was
advertised to leave Mobile at a certain time, and would pass the
landing on Colonel R.'s farm at noon.
About six months previous to this a prominent lady living in Mobile had
had her three-year-old daughter, named Octavia, stolen from her.
Strenuous efforts were made to find her, large rewards being offered
for her return, but in vain! This lady had a brother, a captain in the
Southern army, who had been on duty at Mobile. He assisted his sister
in her efforts to find her child, to whom he had become much attached.
This captain and his company were transferred to another part of the
Confederacy, and took passage on this boat, he telling his almost
crazed sister that he would keep a sharp lookout for her child.
The boat arrived at the landing at the appointed time, and stayed there
some time to put off a lot of freight. Among the spectators on the
bank were Octavia and her mother. This army captain saw Octavia and
thought he saw a resemblance to his sister's lost child. He told some
of his company to accompany him ashore, and as soon as he was in
speaking distance he was sure he had found the lost child, and running
to the child took her in his arms, exclaiming, "My Octavia, my
long-lost child," at the same time kissing and caressing her. Elsie,
dumfounded with fear, began crying, and told the captain that the
child's name was Octavia, but that she was its mother. The captain
threatened to have her arrested by his soldiers if she didn't hush up.
The captain of the boat saw and heard it all. Elsie by this time was
yelling and screaming at the top of her voice, and was trying to take
the child from the captain, who ordered his soldiers to take Elsie. By
this time the captain of the boat had arrived at the scene, and
suggested to the army captain that it was possible for him to be
mistaken, and that this child may be his sister's child's double. He
told Elsie to send for her witnesses, which she did, and soon had a
dozen negroes of the place who positively identified the child as being
Elsie's. Among the witnesses was Aunt Lucy, who was Elsie's nurse at
the birth of the child in the captain's arms, who had been struggling
to get out. This was positive proof, and the captain gave her back,
saying this was a clear case of mistaken identity, and as he was
honestly mistaken he would make the _amende honorable_.
Aunt Lucy said: "Dunno what gwine cum of dat chile; she been drowned
twice, an' kilt wunst wid de soljer's gun, an' now dis Mister Cap'n
tink she his sister loss chile. Sho', 'fore Gawd, dis nigger dunno
what gwine cum to dat chile. Elsie better take her hoam an' keep her
dar." Elsie gathered the child in her arms, crying and shouting for
joy, at this narrow escape of again losing her child.
All of this was reported to Simon, who ordered his sister to stay at
home and keep the child there with her. This was carried out to the
letter, and deprived her of the pleasure of seeing Simon; but better
that than run the risk of losing her child.
In the earlier days of Alabama the forests were full of game of all
kinds, bears being plentiful at one time. They were very destructive
to the farmers' calves, lambs and pigs, and, in a few instances, to
children. A determined war had been made upon them and most of them
had been destroyed, but, as we will see, there was at least one left,
as one actually came out of the swamp to the Colonel's negro quarters,
and attacked Elsie's child, and would have killed her but for her and
the other children's screams, which attracted the dogs and some men
near, the latter gathering clubs, axes or anything at hand, and with
the dogs' help finally dispatched him, but not before he had killed one
of the dogs. Bruin was probably no respecter of persons, and attempted
to appropriate the prettiest child he could find. After this Aunt Lucy
said: "My Gawd, what nex'? De 'Federate cap'n like got her, an' now a
big ole b'ar. I 'spec he hongry, an' want white chile to smack he mouf
on." Elsie was indeed grateful that her child had escaped this awful
death. It was her daily prayer that no evil should befall her child.
While the means of rescue had always heretofore been at hand, it might
not be so in the future.
The war between the States dragged heavily on--at one time the Northern
and at another the Southern armies were successful. Colonel R.
languished in a Northern prison on Johnson's Island, while Simon did
the same thing in a county prison in Alabama.
The Confederate States were strongly blockaded, so much so that there
could be no egress nor ingress except by blockade runners, which was a
dangerous piece of business. Consequently very few of the delicacies
of life could be had in the Southern States. This blockade also kept
out quinine, which is so necessary in the South. For the want of this
Octavia came near dying from an attack of malarial fever. Her
physician gave her up to die, telling the attendants there was no hope
for her. She lay unconscious for days, and it seemed as if every
breath would be her last. During this stage of her illness it was
suggested that an all-night prayer-meeting be held in her behalf.
Being a favorite, the negroes turned out _en masse_, Octavia's only
attendants were her mother and Aunt Lucy.
They carried their devotions on all night, singing, moaning, groaning
and praying, and were too much exhausted to do anything the next day.
At one time during the night Aunt Lucy said to Elsie that the child was
surely dead. But by close examination Elsie said she could detect a
weak, thready pulse at the wrist, and slight movement of the chest, and
said that "while there is life there is hope." Still she was cold half
way up her extremities, and the two were kept busy making hot
applications. She lay in this condition two days after the
prayer-meeting. Finally she said in the faintest whisper that she
wanted some water, and from then began to improve, and in a month was
playing with the other children.
Aunt Lucy always said that "dem niggers brought dat chile fru by dey
prars. De Scripters say, 'de ferbent, effectual prar of de richus
availeth much, an' de prar ob faith shel' save de sick.'"
There was much rejoicing because of Octavia's recovery, and none
rejoiced more than Elsie, who thought her and the negroes' prayers were
answered.
While on the subject of having prayer-meeting for any special object, I
will relate the following incident: In a certain section of country
there was a drouth of long standing prevailing, and it looked as if
everything would be parched up, and nothing be saved for man or beast.
It was suggested that the negroes have a prayer-meeting at their church
to bring rain. One of my neighbors, who was almost a skeptic,
encouraged the negroes, most of whom farmed on the large plantation
which he owned. On the appointed night there was a large crowd
present, who prayed, sang and shouted until three o'clock in the
morning, when there came up one of the most terrific storms which that
section had ever experienced. It rained a perfect flood; the wind was
a most frightful tornado, tearing down houses, fences, crops, trees,
and killing some stock. The hail was terrific, ruining some crops. My
neighbor met some of the brethren the next day and said: "Boys, what
made you pray so hard last night? We wanted rain, and not a h--l of a
storm like we got." One of them replied: "Boss, I tells you how it
wuz. Dat fool nigger Pascal was de cause of de whole ting. In his
prayer las' nite he prayed de Lawd not to sen' one of dem leetle
drizzle-drazzle showers, but one of dem trash movers. An', boss, we
sho' got it, an' mo' too. I tell you, boss, dem niggers prayed all
nite for rain, an' when it did cum yu jes' ought tu seen dem niggers
prayin' fur de rain, win' an' hail tu stop. We thought sho' we gwine
git kilt. Dat fool nigger Pascal got no sence nohow; we keeps him home
de nex' time we wants rain."
In commemoration of Octavia's restoration to health the negroes
appointed a day of thanksgiving and prayer. The negro is nothing if
not religious; he can surpass his white brother two to one in fervency
and zeal, but whether that "zeal is according to knowledge" is not my
province to decide. It is the custom of the negroes in their religious
meetings to line out their hymns for singing, and when at their work
you can hear them repeat two lines, sing it, and the other two lines to
make out the verse, and sing that. It is a rare thing to see a
skeptical negro of the Ingersoll type. I have already said something
about superstition; this characteristic, like religion, is developed to
a high degree. If one starts anywhere and forgets something, on going
back he makes a cross mark and spits in the mark. If one starts on a
journey and a rabbit crosses the road before him, he turns around and
goes back home. If one is sick and a screech owl screams near by, the
sick person is sure to die. One could not be hired to go in a cemetery
by himself at night. When any one dies they can see his "sperit" going
about the place. They are strong believers in ghosts and "sperits."
These and many other superstitions render them difficult patients to
treat. The writer was called to see a sick negro on one occasion, and
could not find that there was anything the matter with him. In my
examination I found a bag the size of one's fist tied under his shirt.
I drew it out and asked what it was. He would make no reply, when an
old granny, who was nurse, said that was his "conjure" bag to keep
"sperits" off with. It contained rags, rocks, gourd seed, a hog tusk
and a tack.