THE summer of 1867! Will ever a Southern man or woman who saw it forget
its scenes? A group of oath-bound secret societies, The Union League,
The Heroes of America, and The Red Strings dominating society, and
marauding bands of negroes armed to the teeth terrorising the country,
stealing, burning and murdering.
Labour was not only demoralised, it had ceased to exist Depression
was universal, farming paralysed, investments dead, and all property
insecure. Moral obligations were dropping away from conduct, and a gulf
as deep as hell and high as heaven opening between the two races.
The negro preachers openly instructed their flocks to take what they
needed from their white neighbours. If any man dared prosecute a thief,
the answer was a burned barn or a home in ashes.
The wildest passions held riot at Washington. The Congress of the United
States as a deliberative body under constitutional forms of government
no longer existed. The Speaker of the House shook his fist at the
President and threatened openly to hang him, and he was arraigned for
impeachment for daring to exercise the constitutional functions of his
office!
The division agents of the Freedman’s Bureau in the South sent to
Washington the most alarming reports, declaring a famine imminent. In
reply the vindictive leaders levied a tax of fifteen dollars a bale on
cotton, plunging thousands of Southern farmers into immediate bankruptcy
and giving to India and Egypt the mastery of the cotton markets of the
world!
Congress became to the desolate South what Attila, the “_Scourge of
God_” was to civilised Europe.
The Abolitionists of the North, whose conscience was the fire that
kindled the Civil War, rose in solemn protest against this insanity.
Their protest was drowned in the roar of multitudes maddened by
demagogues who were preparing for a political campaign.
Late in August Hambright and Campbell county were thrilled with horror
at the report of a terrible crime. A whole white family had been
murdered in their home, the father, mother and three children in one
night, and no clue to the murderers could be found.
Two days later the rumour spread over the country that a horde of
negroes heavily armed were approaching Hambright burning, pillaging and
murdering.
All day terrified women, some walking with babes in their arms, some
riding in old wagons and carrying what household goods they could load
on them, were hurrying with blanched faces into the town.
By night five hundred determined white men had answered an alarm bell
and assembled in the court house. Every negro save a few faithful
servants had disappeared. A strange stillness fell over the village.
Mrs. Gaston sat in her house without a light, looking anxiously out
of the window, overwhelmed with the sense of helplessness. Charlie,
frightened by the wild stories he had heard, was trying in spite of his
fears to comfort her.
“Don’t cry, Mama!”
“I’m not crying because I’m afraid, darling, I’m only crying because
your father is not here to-night. I can’t get used to living without him
to protect us.”
“I’ll take care of you, Mama--Nelse and me.”
“Where is Nelse?”
“He’s cleaning up the shot gun.”
“Tell him to come here.”
When Nelse approached his Mistress asked, “Nelse, do you really think
this tale is true?”
“No, Missy, I doan believe nary word uf it. Same time I’se gettin’ ready
fur ’em. Ef er nigger come foolin’ roun’ dis house ter night, he’ll
t’ink he’s run ergin er whole regiment! I hain’t been ter wah fur
nuttin’.”
“Nelse, you have always been faithful. I trust you implicitly.”
“De Lawd, Missy, dat you kin do! I fight fur you en dat boy till I drap
dead in my tracks!”
“I believe you would.”
“Yessum, cose I would. En I wants dat swo’de er Marse Charles to-night,
Missy, en Charlie ter help me sharpen ’im on de grine stone.”
She took the sword from its place and handed it to Nelse. Was there just
a shade of doubt in her heart as she saw his black hand close over its
hilt as he drew it from the scabbard and felt its edge! If so she gave
no sign.
Charlie turned the grindstone while Nelse proceeded to violate the laws
of nations by putting a keen edge on the blade.
“Nebber seed no sense in dese dull swodes nohow!”
“Why ain’t they sharp, Nelse?”
“Doan know, honey. Marse Charles tell me de law doan ’low it, but dey
sho hain’t no law now!”
“We’ll sharpen it, won’t we, Nelse?” whispered the boy as he turned
faster.
“Dat us will, honey. En den you des watch me mow niggers ef dey come er
prowlin’ round dis house!”
“Did you kill many Yankees in the war, Nelse?”
“Doan know, honey, spec I did.”
“Are you going to take the gun or the sword?”
“Bofe um ’em chile. I’se gwine ter shoot er pair er niggers fust, en
den charge de whole gang wid dis swode. Hain’t nuttin’ er nigger’s feard
uf lak er keen edge. Wish ter God I had a razer long es dis swode! I’d
des walk clean froo er whole army er niggers wid guns. Man, hit ’ud
des natchelly be er sight! Day’d slam dem guns down en bust demselves
open gittin’ outen my way!”
When the sun rose next morning the bodies of ten negroes lay dead and
wounded in the road about a mile outside of town. The pickets thrown out
in every direction had discovered their approach about eleven o’clock.
They were allowed to advance within a mile. There were not more than two
hundred in the gang, dozens of them were drunk, and like the Sepoys of
India, they were under the command of a white Scalawag. At the first
volley they broke and fled in wild disorder. Their leader managed to
escape.
This event cleared the atmosphere for a few weeks; and the people
breathed more freely when another company of army regulars marched into
the town and camped in the school grounds of the old academy.