THE RAILWAY STATION.
A large hotel, or station-house, and about a dozen log shanties made up
the village. Two of these structures were negro-cabins; two were small
groceries, in which the vilest alcoholic compounds were sold at a bit
(ten cents) a glass; one was a lawyer's office, in which was the
post-office, and a justice's court, where, once a month, the small
offenders of the vicinity "settled up their accounts;" one was a
tailoring and clothing establishment, where breeches were patched at a
dime a stitch, and payment taken in tar and turpentine; and the rest
were private dwellings of one apartment, occupied by the grocers, the
tailor, the switch-tenders, the postmaster, and the negro _attaches_ of
the railroad. The church and the school-house--the first buildings to go
up in a Northern village--I have omitted to enumerate, because--they
were not there.
One of the natives told me that the lawyer was a "stuck-up critter;" "he
don't live; he don't--he puts-up at th' hotel." And the hotel! Would
Shakspeare, had he have known it, have written of taking one's _ease_ at
his inn? It was a long, framed building, two stories high, with a
piazza extending across the side and a front door crowded as closely
into one corner as the width of the joist would permit. Under the
piazza, ranged along the wall, was a low bench, occupied by about forty
tin wash-basins and water-pails, and with coarse, dirty crash towels
suspended on rollers above it. By the side of each of these towels hung
a comb and a brush, to which a lock of everybody's hair was clinging,
forming in the total a stock sufficient to establish any barber in the
wig business.
It was, as I have said, ten o'clock when we reached the Station.
Throwing the bridles of our horses over the hitching-posts at the door,
we at once made our way to the bar-room. That apartment, which was in
the rear of the building, and communicated with by a long, narrow
passage, was filled almost to suffocation, when we entered, by a cloud
of tobacco smoke, the fumes of bad whiskey, and a crowd of drunken
chivalry, through whom the Colonel with great difficulty elbowed his way
to the counter, where "mine host" and two assistants were dispensing
"liquid death," at the rate of ten cents a glass, and of ten glasses a
minute.
"Hello, Cunnel, how ar' ye," cried the red-faced liquor-vender, as he
caught sight of my companion, and, relinquishing his lucrative
employment for a moment, took the Colonel's hand, "how ar' ye?"
"Quite well, thank you, Miles," said the Colonel, with a certain
patronizing air, "have you seen my man, Moye?"
"Moye, no! What's up with him?"
"He's run away with my horse, Firefly--I thought he would have made for
this station. At what time does the next train go up?"
"Wal, it's due half arter 'leven, but 'taint gin'rally 'long till nigh
one."
The Colonel was turning to join me at the door, when a well-dressed
young man of very unsteady movements, who was filling a glass at the
counter, and staring at him with a sort of dreamy amazement, stammered
out, "Moye--run--run a--way, zir! that--k--kant be--by G--. I know--him,
zir--he's a--a friend of mine, and--I'm--I'm d----d if he ain't
hon--honest."
"About as honest as the Yankees run," replied the Colonel, "he's a
d----d thief, sir!"
"Look here--here, zir--don't--don't you--you zay any--thing 'gainst--the
Yankees. D----d if--if I aint--one of 'em mezelf--zir," said the fellow
staggering toward the Colonel.
"_I_ don't care _what_ you are; you're drunk."
"You lie--you--you d----d 'ris--'ristocrat," was the reply, as the
inebriated gentleman aimed a blow, with all his unsteady might, at the
Colonel's face.
The South Carolinian stepped quickly aside, and dexterously threw his
foot before the other, who--his blow not meeting the expected
resistance--was unable to recover himself, and fell headlong to the
floor. The planter turned on his heel, and was walking quietly away,
when the sharp report of a pistol sounded through the apartment, and a
ball tore through the top of his boot, and lodged in the wall within two
feet of where I was standing. With a spring, quick and sure as the
tiger's, the Colonel was on the drunken man. Wrenching away the weapon,
he seized the fellow by the neck-tie, and drawing him up to nearly his
full height, dashed him at one throw to the other end of the room. Then
raising the revolver he coolly levelled it to fire!
But a dozen strong men were on him. The pistol was out of his hand, and
his arms were pinioned in an instant; while cries of "Fair play, sir!"
"He's drunk!" "Don't hit a man when he's down," and other like
exclamations, came from all sides.
"Give _me_ fair play, you d----d North Carolina hounds," cried the
Colonel, struggling violently to get away, "and I'll fight the whole
posse of you."
"One's 'nuff for _you_, ye d----d fire-eatin' 'ristocrat;" said a long,
lean, bushy-haired, be-whiskered individual, who was standing near the
counter: "ef ye want to fight, _I'll_ 'tend to yer case to onst. Let him
go, boys," he continued as he stepped toward the Colonel, and parted the
crowd that had gathered around him: "give him the shootin'-iron, and
let's see ef he'll take a man thet's sober."
I saw serious trouble was impending, and stepping forward, I said to the
last speaker, "My friend, you have no quarrel with this gentleman. He
has treated that man only as you would have done."
"P'raps thet's so; but he's a d----d hound of a Secesherner thet's
draggin' us all to h--ll; it'll du the country good to git quit of one
on 'em."
"Whatever his politics are, he's a gentleman, sir, and has done you no
harm--let me beg of you to let him alone."
"Don't beg any thing for me, Mr. K----," growled the Colonel through his
barred teeth, "I'll fight the d----d corn-cracker, and his whole race,
at once."
"No you won't, my friend. For the sake of those at home you won't;" I
said, taking him by the arm, and partly leading, partly forcing him,
toward the door.
"And who in h--ll ar you?" asked the corn-cracker, planting himself
squarely in my way.
"I'm on the same side of politics with you, Union to the core!" I
replied.
"Ye ar! Union! Then give us yer fist," said he, grasping me by the hand;
"by ---- it does a feller good to see a man dressed in yer cloes thet
haint 'fraid to say he's Union, so close to South Car'lina, tu, as this
ar! Come, hev a drink: come boys--all round--let's liquor!"
"Excuse me now, my dear fellow--some other time I'll be glad to join
you."
"Jest as ye say, but thar's my fist, enyhow."
He gave me another hearty shake of the hand, and the crowd parting, I
made my way with the Colonel out of the room. We were followed by Miles,
the landlord, who, when we had reached the front of the entrance-way,
said, "I'm right sorry for this row, gentlemen; the boys will hev a time
when they gets together."
"Oh, never mind;" said the Colonel, who had recovered his coolness; "but
why are all these people here?"
"Thar's a barbacue cumin' off to-morrer on the camp-ground, and the
house is cram full."
"Is that so?" said the Colonel, then turning to me he added, "Moye has
taken the railroad somewhere else; I must get to a telegraph office at
once, to head him off. The nearest one is Wilmington. With all these
rowdies here, it will not do to leave the horses alone--will you stay
and keep an eye on them over to-morrow?"
"Yes, I will, cheerfully."
"Thar's a mighty hard set, round har now, Cunnel," said the landlord;
"and the most peaceable get enter scrapes ef they hain't no friends.
Hadn't ye better show the gentleman some of your'n, 'fore you go?"
"Yes, yes, I didn't think of that. Who is here?"
"Wal, thar's Cunnel Taylor, Bill Barnes, Sam Heddleson, Jo Shackelford,
Andy Jones, Rob Brown, and lots of others."
"Where's Andy Jones?"
"Reckon he's turned in; I'll see."
As the landlord opened a door which led from the hall, the Colonel said
to me, "Andy is a Union man; but he'd fight to the death for me."
"Sal!" called out the hotel keeper.
"Yas, massa, I'se har," was the answer from a slatternly woman, awfully
black in the face, who soon thrust her head from the door-way.
"Is Andy Jones har?" asked Miles.
"Yas, massa, he'm turned in up thar on de table."
We followed the landlord into the apartment. It was the dining-room of
the hotel, and by the dim light which came from a smoky fire on the
hearth, I saw it contained about a hundred people, who, wrapped in
blankets, bed-quilts and travelling-shawls, were disposed in all
conceivable attitudes, and scattered about on the hard floor and tables,
sleeping soundly. The room was a long, low apartment--extending across
the entire front of the house--and had a wretched, squalid look. The
fire, which was tended by the negro-woman--(she had spread a blanket on
the floor, and was keeping a drowsy watch over it for the night)--had
been recently replenished with green wood, and was throwing out thick
volumes of black smoke, which, mixing with the effluvia from the lungs
of a hundred sleepers, made up an atmosphere next to impossible to
breathe. Not a window was open, and not an aperture for ventilation
could be seen!
Carefully avoiding the arms and legs of the recumbent chivalry, we
picked our way, guided by the negro-girl, to the corner of the room
where the Unionist was sleeping. Shaking him briskly by the shoulder,
the Colonel called out: "Andy! Andy! wake up!"
"What--what the d----l is the matter?" stammered the sleeper, gradually
opening his eyes, and raising himself on one elbow, "Lord bless you,
Cunnel, is that you? what in ---- brought _you_ har?"
"Business, Andy. Come, get up, I want to see you, and I can't talk
here."
The North Carolinian slowly rose, and throwing his blanket over his
shoulders, followed us from the room. When we had reached the open air
the Colonel introduced me to his friend, who expressed surprise, and a
great deal of pleasure, at meeting a Northern Union man in the Colonel's
company.
"Look after our horses, now, Miles; Andy and I want to talk," said the
planter to the landlord, with about as little ceremony as he would have
shown to a negro.
I thought the white man did not exactly relish the Colonel's manner, but
saying, "All right, all right, sir," he took himself away.
The night was raw and cold, but as all the rooms of the hotel were
occupied, either by sleepers or carousers, we had no other alternative
than to hold our conference in the open air. Near the railway-track a
light-wood fire was blazing, and, obeying the promptings of the frosty
atmosphere, we made our way to it. Lying on the ground around it,
divested of all clothing except a pair of linsey trousers and a flannel
shirt, and with their naked feet close to its blaze--roasting at one
extremity, and freezing at the other--were several blacks, the
switch-tenders and woodmen of the Station--fast asleep. How human beings
could sleep in such circumstances seemed a marvel, but further
observation convinced me that the Southern negro has a natural aptitude
for that exercise, and will, indeed, bear more exposure than any other
living thing. Nature in giving him such powers of endurance, appears to
have specially fitted him for the life of hardship and privation to
which he is born.
The fire-light enabled me to scan the appearance of my new acquaintance.
He was rather above the medium height, squarely and somewhat stoutly
built, and had an easy and self-possessed, though rough and unpolished
manner. His face, or so much of it as was visible from underneath a
thick mass of reddish gray hair, denoted a firm, decided character; but
there was a manly, open, honest expression about it that gained one's
confidence in a moment. He wore a slouched hat and a suit of the
ordinary "sheep's-grey," cut in the "sack" fashion, and hanging loosely
about him. He seemed a man who had made his own way in the world, and I
subsequently learned that appearances did not belie him. The son of a
"poor white" man, with scarcely the first rudiments of book-education,
he had, by sterling worth, natural ability, and great force of
character, accumulated a handsome property, and acquired a leading
position in his district. Though on "the wrong side of politics," his
personal popularity was so great that for several successive years he
had been elected to represent the county in the state legislature. The
Colonel, though opposed to him in politics--and party feeling at the
South runs so high that political opponents are seldom personal
friends--had, in the early part of his career, aided him by his
endorsements; and Andy had not forgotten the service. It was easy to see
that while two men could not be more unlike in character and appearance
than my host and the North Carolinian, they were warm and intimate
friends.
"So, Moye has been raising h--ll gin'rally, Colonel," said my new
acquaintance after a time. "I'm not surprised. I never did b'lieve in
Yankee nigger-drivers--sumhow it's agin natur' for a Northern man to go
Southern principles quite so strong as Moye did."
"Which route do you think he has taken?" asked the Colonel.
"Wal, I reckon arter he tuk to the run, he made fur the mountings. He
know'd you'd head him on the travelled routes; so he's put, I think, fur
the Missussippe, where he'll sell the horse and make North."
"I'll follow him," said the Colonel, "to the ends of the earth. If it
costs me five thousand dollars, I'll see him hung."
"Wal," replied Andy, laughing, "if he's gone North you'll need a
extradition treaty to kotch him. South Car'lina, I b'lieve, has set up
fur a furrin country."
"That's true," said the Colonel, also laughing, "she's "furrin" to the
Yankees, but not to the old North State."
"D----d if she haint," replied the North Carolinian, "and now she's got
out on our company, I swear she must keep out. We'd as soon think of
goin' to h----ll in summer time, as of jining partnership with her.
Cunnel, you'r the only decent man in the State--d----d if you
haint--and _your_ politics are a'most bad 'nuff to spile a township. It
allers seemed sort o'queer to me, that a man with such a mighty good
heart as your'n, could be so short in the way of brains."
"Well, you're complimentary," replied the Colonel, with the utmost
good-nature, "but let's drop politics; we never could agree, you know.
What shall I do about Moye?"
"Go to Wilmington and telegraph all creation: wait a day to har, then if
you don't har, go home, hire a native overseer, and let Moye go to the
d----l. Ef it'll do you any good I'll go to Wilmington with you, though
I did mean to give you Secesherners a little h--har to-morrer."
"No, Andy, I'll go alone. 'Twouldn't be patriotic to take you away from
the barbacue. You'd 'spile' if you couldn't let off some gas soon."
"I do b'lieve I shud. Howsumdever, thar's nary a thing I wouldn't do for
you--you knows that."
"Yes, I do, and I wish you'd keep an eye on my Yankee friend here, and
see he don't get into trouble with any of the boys--there'll be a hard
set 'round, I reckon."
"Wal, I will," said Andy, "but all he's to do is to keep his mouth
shet."
"That seems easy enough," I replied, laughing.
A desultory conversation followed for about an hour, when the
steam-whistle sounded, and the up-train arrived. The Colonel got on
board and bidding us "good-night," went on to Wilmington. Andy then
proposed we should look up sleeping accommodations. It was useless to
seek quarters at the hotel, but an empty car was on the turn-out, and
bribing one of the negroes we got access to it, and were soon stretched
at full length on two of its hard-bottomed seats.