THE WRIT OF EJECTMENT.
Shortly after the events narrated in the last chapter, the announcement
was made by Clarissa that a white man, "und dat biggety nigger Ellic,
was at de do to see ole marser." The interview occurred on the verandah.
Abram Laflin, the carpet-bagger, introduced the subject as follows:
"I observed" said he, "in passing the court house on yesterday, that you
had advertised my home to be sold to pay a debt of five thousand dollars
due you. Will you be kind enough to make the calculation and inform me
what is due you, principal and interest?"
"Certainly I will, with great pleasure," replied the Colonel. "Here is
the account accurately computed."
"Make your calculations, Mr. Wiggins, and see if the gentleman is
correct," he said to the negro.
Mr. Wiggins adjusted his gold rimmed eyeglasses, fingered a moment the
gold chain upon his immaculate shirt bosom, scratched his head a time or
two with the point of his gold pencil and passed the statement to his
lord and master.
"Ah, ha," exclaimed the carpet-bagger, "Four thousand three hundred and
fifty-seven dollars and thirty-three and one-third cents, and not five
thousand dollars as you have it, Mr. Seymour."
"Ah, very well" replied Mr. Seymour "You may settle by my calculation if
you wish, if not the sale shall go on."
"Give me the paper and pencil, Mr. Wiggins, I will make the calculation
for myself," said the carpet-bagger. "The result as you have it sir, is
correct. Here is your money sir."
"Now, sir, I will show you the gate," replied the Colonel with asperity.
"Good morning," and the two men locked arms and went away.
As the enraged man was entering the verandah, he was greeted
unexpectedly and obsequiously by Joshua, with "Compliments, ole Marser.
I have fotched you some long-necked gode seeds; spected yer would lak to
hab dem, mars Jon."
"Yes, Yes, I am glad you remembered me Joshua. I thought my old slave
had quite forgotten me," replied the Colonel.
"You mout hab spected dat ole masser, but I knowed all de time you wus
de onliest fren I had in de wurrell," answered the old negro.
"I am surprised to see you looking so badly, Joshua. Why your hair is as
white as cotton, and your clothes too are ragged and dirty, and there
are great hollows in your cheeks; what have you done with yourself old
man?"
The old negro dashed a great big tear from each eye as he replied
hesitatingly, "Better ax tother fokeses dat ar questun, ole marsa;
better ax de bosses at de kommissery; I'se been froo de froos sens I
seed you sar, mommucked up monstrus, dat I is. Dem dar pizen'd
carpet-baggers tole us cullud fokses ef we didn't do jess lak dey sed,
dat dey was agwine to put us bak in slavery, und dey skeert us jam ni to
def, dat dey did. Dey uprared a grate big sto in de town, und sakes
alive! de moest lasses und horg meat und flower und backer, und sich lak
yu nebber did see, mars Jon, und likker, too; und wun ob de bosses he
cum to de do und sez, sez he boys, fetch yer happysaks und jimmyjons
ebery Tuesday, und eberry Saddy nite de Lord sens und fill dem chok
full. I clar marser, I felt jess lak I wus in Paradise, wid de angels
er harpin pon golden harps und soppin lasses; und I took dat white man
at his word, und I'se been on de rode twixt my house und de sto fur
seben weeks, backards und forrards, a totin my ole jimmyjon un happy-sak;
I clar pon my Marser in Heben, I haint eben got de rappins ob my finger
from dat sto yit. De boss wud laf und say de rashuns had gin out fore I
got dere, und to cum agin nex Tuesday sho; und mars Jon, I'se jess
nachully a tired to def, widdout a moufful ob wittels in my house fur me
nur Hanner nudder, und we bof a perishin to def. Ole marsa, hain't yer
got nary ole ash tater, nur a leetle piece ob meat skin yer kin gib dis
ole darky jess to pacify his stummik, seems lak I jess hab to draw my
galluses rale tite roun it to keep it frum creepin fru my mouf."
The old soldier of fifty battles looked down upon the poor old negro in
his squalor and emaciation and wretchedness, and the tears came into his
eyes, too, as he said,
"If there is anything in this house to eat, Joshua, you shall have all
you want. I pity you from my heart, old negro. These people are not your
friends nor mine. The day will come when you will know them as they
are--enemies of every one who will not wash their dirty linen."
"Eber yu spoke de truf, Mars Jon, you spoke it den--hit's de God's
truf."
"Clarissa!" called the Colonel, "Clarissa!"
"Sar!" came Clarissa's voice from the kitchen. "I'se er cummin, ole
marsa, jes es fast es I ken."
As she saw Joshua she threw up her hands and impulsively exclaimed,
"Fur de Lawd's sake, Joshaway, whot do ail yer eny way? I faut yu wuz er
gostis er settin outen here wid ole marser. Po ole nigger! Duz sis
Hanner luk lak yu duz? De grabeyard is er yornin fer yu rite now." And
Clarissa placed her hand feelingly upon the old negro's white head,
saying the while, "Po Joshaway! Po nigger!" while Joshua covered his
face with his knotty hands and his feeble body shook as with a spasm.
In obedience to orders, Clarissa placed before Joshua a huge dish of
boiled ham, cabbage, potatoes--Irish and sweet--and the old negro in the
joy of his heart sprang nimbly to his aged and aching feet and "cut de
piggen whing jes ter sho ole marsa how spry und suple he wus."
"Bress Gawd!" he gratefully exclaimed, "I'se been happy two times in my
life--wun time when I jined de miluntary cumpny when de niggers wus
playin 'de jay bird' on der tootin horns (den I wus er fule), und tother
time wus dis here time."
After devouring like a starved brute the bulk of the food before him, he
considerately placed into his old beaver hat choice bits and fragments,
layer upon layer, with the observation,
"I wudn't er tasted a moufful o' dis good truck ef I hadn't er node
Hanner wuz ergwine ter git her shar. Jes er watchin me now lak a sparrer
hawk er settin on er lim! Tank yer a fousun times, ole marser! Tank yu,
too, sis Clarsy; tank eberybody in de whole wurld. Ole marsa," he
continued, "mout I hab jes wun wurd wid yer?"
"Why, certainly, Joshua; what more can I do for you?" asked the old man.
The old negro put his hand to his face as if he were shielding his eyes,
and asked sheepishly,
"Mars Jon, ef me und Hanner wus ter turn niggers ergin, jes lak slabery
times, wud yer tuck us home--yu und Miss Alice?"
"I would not have you do that, Joshua; but whenever you like, you and
Hannah can bring your belongings to the office and Alice and I will
always be your friends. You shall never suffer any more for something
to eat or wear as long as we live."
"Tank yer, ole marser, tank yu, a fousand times!" Joshua replied, as he
brushed away great liquid beads that were chasing each other down his
haggard cheeks. "Now I mus be ergwine, Mars Jon," and the old stiffened
joints bore homeward a filled body and a full heart, as he sang in an
untuned but sweet voice,
"Oh de way's so delightful when I sarves de Lord,
Oh de way's so delightful, journey on."
As the sun was going down the old Colonel looked across the field and
saw Joshua and Hannah with great bundles upon their heads coming toward
the mansion--coming back to the old home; coming back to be just as
humble, just as faithful, just as watchful as in the happy old days;
coming back to run errands if need be, with joints stiffened by
hardships and old age, but with hearts so light and trustful; coming
back like homing pigeons to roost under old master's wing in the dove
cote. Was there ever such a people before? The sweetest experience in
the domesticity of the South will vanish forever when the last old white
woolly head is laid low, when the ghostly smile is given to old mistress
from the death bed, and the last good-bye is said to "ole marser und ole
missis" as the death film overlays the eye. "Tak keer ob yosefs, ole
marser und ole missis, und meet me up yander." So thought the old master
as with liquid eyes he looked upward to the vaulted sky.
"Seben weeks" the old negro weighted down by the ever accumulating
burdens of life--its disappointments, its troubles--had with unsteady
gait and frequent halts stepped off each rod and furlong twixt "my house
und de sto, backards und forards, toting de jimmyjon und de happy-sak."
"Fur seben weeks" the torrid sun with its blistering heat had scorched
the old negro's head, and crisped the old negro's black skin until it
was spotted. For seven weeks a vacuum deep and broad lay between the
inner coatings of the famished stomach immeasurable and unfathomable.
For seven weeks "Old Glory" waved its welcome at one end of the
commissariat, and stark, pallid want walked out without a ration and
flaunted its rags at the other. Poor old negro, but what worth is
freedom without its pains and penalties; what worth is the huge
commissariat without the freedmen, and what worth is the freedmen
without the commissariat? Oh how happy the old negro in "de offis of ole
marser." By fits and starts old Joshua would awake throughout the nights
and call to Hannah, "Ole womun, duz yer kno whar yer is a roosting to
night? Aint agwine to de crick fur catfish in de mornin. I kno whar my
wittles is er cummin frum, bress de Lord. Cum rain ur shine, I haint
nebber agwine hongry agin, no mo. Old marsa dun und said, ole nigger yer
shall nebber want fur sumfing to eat und sumfing to ware no mo, und I
nebber cotched ole Mars Jon in a lie yit. Has yu, Hanner?"
"No, dat I haint, nur Miss Alice nudder," replied Hannah. "I haint got
no mo skeer erbout me, Joshaway, dan a billy gote. I kno's when Miss
Alice flings a dumplin in de pot for hersef, she is agwine to fling wun
in dare fur me too."
"Pears lak, Hanner, I kin heer my stummick ebery now und den nachully
singing de ole ship ob Zion, hit is so full ob ole marser's good
wittles."
Bright and early the next morning the old negro was standing in the wide
open door of the office, swinging his arms in exercise like a prize
fighter, and occasionally "cuttin de piggen whing out of doors," as he
said, "dat yung misses mout see how he could twist his foots erbout." As
he was skipping about the yard he discovered as it were, a moccasin
snake; a red, white, and blue stake about two feet long in the ground
near the office, and he knew what it was and called in a fit of rage to
Hannah. "Jess cum und see what dem dratted niggers has dun gon und dun.
Lord a massy! Duz dem pizened willians fink dey kin oberride dis here
plantashun wid me, und Ned, und ole marsa, und yung misses, und yu und
Claissy a fendin for deselvs? I'se agwine to lode up my muskit dis bery
nite, und de fust nigger dat cums pestering our white fokses on dis here
lan, I'se agwine to shoot two pounds of hot led into his karkas. Tak dis
ole streked striped stick, Hanner, und burn it up," and he jerked the
peg out of the ground as if it had been an aching molar in his gum, and
threw it violently into the fire-place.
"Who upon de yurth did fetch dese pizened stiks on dis lan? I'm ergwine
er roun dis yer plantashun, und maybe I'll fine sum mo ob de
ring-streeked-und-striped things, er painted jes like 'ole Glory' out
yander in de town, jes ter fool niggers und git dem sassinated lak er
passel o' polecats."
While Joshua was making the "grand rounds" over the plantation a
carriage with a pair of beautiful, high-stepping horses rolled up to the
door, and two "gemmen of culler" alighted and walked with unnatural
dignity to the door and rang the bell. Clarissa, of course, obeyed the
call, and in their presence was so bewildered that she asked them into
the library. Placing into her hands their cards _de visite_, upon which
were written the names of the "Hon. Alexander Wiggins" and the "Hon.
Ephraim Gillam," she carried them to Colonel Seymour.
Instantly the devil was aroused in the old man, and he told Clarissa to
tell them to get out of the house.
Clarissa, in executing the order, said, "Ole marser says how dat yu
niggers must go back out er doors. Jes tak yosef outen dis house
immegit." Then upon recognizing one of the negroes, she enquired, "Haint
dat yer Ellick, wid dem fine close und shoes, und gold specks, und bever
hat, comin into dis house lak yer was a king, or a gineral, or sumfing I
don't kno what? What is yer doing here in ole marser's house, anyhow? I
specks yer is up to sum devilment rate now."
"My name is not Ellic, replied the negro, und I am not up to devilment.
I am de prieter ob dis manshun house, und my stinguished friend, Mr.
Ephrum Gillum und me, hez cum to sarv a rit ob jectment upon Mr. Semo
fortwid."
"Lord hab marcy upon my soul!" exclaimed Clarissa in great excitement,
"Ef yer sarves dat dar fing on ole marsa, dares gwine to be a
ressurreckshun in dis grate house fortwid, yer haint agwine to lib to
git bak to town. You und dat udder nigger better tak yerselvs offen dis
lan fore marser sees yer; he spises yer worse den eny mocksin snake in
de crick, und yer nose it."
"Ah, well," the negro replied arrogantly, "Yu jess gib him dis writ ob
'jectment und tell him dat Mr. Wiggins und his lady will return
ter-morrer ebenin at ate o'clock und tak persesshun, und see dat yu
prepars a bed in de best chamber in dis mansion fur him."
"Jes yer fling dat pizen fing on de flo. I aint ergwine ter mess my hans
up wid no sich nasty trash, und yer tak yersefs offen here--don't I'm
agwine ter set Jube on yer, yer hateful creetur. Ugh! ef yer gits
anyfing pared on dis plantashun hit's ergwine ter be a ded-fall ter kill
yu cussed niggers. Dat's de bed yer is ergwine ter git ter morrer at ate
o'clock, 'member dat! Ugh! I specks when dat time cums yer will be ded
und gon rite strait ter torment."
Clarissa seized the tongs and prodded the document upon the floor as if
it had been a tarantula, then holding it at arm's length, muttering the
while like a savage, brought it to Colonel Seymour with the observation,
"Mars Jon, yer mout as well gib up dis grate house und de plantashun,
too, to de stinkin, outdashus niggers, don't dey is ergwine ter tarrify
de life outen yer, und me too."
To this the old man deigned no reply, but unfolding the paper and
reading it, he concluded there was but one thing to be done. For
one-third of a century he had been a highly respected communicant in the
Episcopal church; orthodox and consistent in his views and observances,
but upon reading the insulting document he swore like "our army in
Flanders."
"Clarissa," he exclaimed, "bring me my pistols. I will defend my own
with my life, and"--
"Mars Jon," interrupted Clarissa, "I'se skeert ob dem dar shootin iruns.
What is yer ergwine ter do, ole marser? Is yer ergwine ter hab a
resurreckshun in de grate house? Sposin yer und young missis gits
kilt--whot in de name ob Gawd is ergwine ter cum ob tother ones? Sarve
Ellick rite ef he gits masskreed; but sposin yer und Ned gits kilt, whot
is ergwine ter cum ob me und Miss Alice? Yer is too brash, ole marser."
The old soldier was quiet for a moment, and then he called Ned to him.
"Yes, Mars Jon, here I is, sar. Whot yer want now, Mars John?" Ned asked
humbly.
"Go and tell Mr. Jake Flowers to come here at once."
"Sartinly, Sar, mejitly, Mars Jon."
And in a short time Mr. Flowers, accompanied by Ned, saluted the Colonel
with,
"What are your orders for to-day, sir?"
Now, thought the Colonel, I shall marshal a force more terrible than an
army with banners. I shall recruit my regiment from the "Invincible
Empire," and I shall tear down and let them reconstruct if they can. "We
will march to victory under the flag of the 'White Camelia,' shall we
not, Mr. Flowers?" asked the Colonel.
"Well, when I wants to play demnation wid ther niggers, I don't fight
under no other," was the sententious answer of the regulator.
"Come into my library a moment, sir."
As the regulator was ambling along he put his two fingers to his mouth
and accidentally(?) expectorated "ambeer" in the eye of old Jupiter, the
fox hound, which set up a prolonged howl and caused Clarissa to exclaim
with great warmth;
"Mars Jon, did yer see dat ou'dashus white man a spettin dat dar backer
juce in ole Jube's tother eye? Wun ob dem is outen now, und I specks dat
fafefulest ole dorg will go plum blind. He is de fafefulest creetur on
dis hole plantashun. Po' ole Jube! Nebber mind, Clarsy is ergwine ter
set yer on dat speckled-face white man when he cums outen dat do, und is
ergwine ter give yu sum mo wittles ef yer chaws him good. Po' ole Jube!"
And Clarissa walked back into the kitchen with Jube following her, with
the further observation, "Twixt de niggers und de low-down white trash I
haint got no chusen--hit's a half duzzen wun way und a half duzzen
tother way, und de debbil tak de diffunce."
The Colonel drew a chair up to the table and asked the regulator to be
seated.
"Tomorrow night at eight o'clock sharp I will take possession of
Ingleside, peaceably if I can, forcibly if I must."
"When the Prince of the Thebaird sent this message to the queen of lower
Egypt, "Tomorrow I will knock at the door of your palace with the hilt
of my spear," she returned this warning, "And I will welcome you with
bloody hands, and the crocodiles of the Nile shall devour your carcass."
"What shall be our message, Mr. Flowers?"
The regulator thought a little dreamily for awhile, and then with the
usual squint in the right eye replied drowsily,
"Wall, thar is two ways to kill a nigger unbeknownst to him. I kin
ku-klux him, or I kin strike him with forked litenin; but I haint got
ammunition enuff to kill a hole passul at wunce."
The Colonel unfolded and laid upon the table a large sheet of paper,
such as engineers use in diagramming, and began in a perfunctory way to
mark off lines, angles, eccentric and concentric figures, until he fixed
the point of his pencil suspiciously at the upper abutment of a bridge
that spanned a rivulet, with this remark,
"Just here, sir, must be the point of attack. This is the only
defensible position upon the plantation. If the malicious negroes pass
this bridge, all is lost. Now, my friend," he continued, "heroic
diseases must be healed with heroic remedies. You and I are old
soldiers. Up and down the Chickahominy our army would have been tin
soldiers but for our sappers and miners. Now you may sap and mine to
your heart's content," he said jocularly. "Do you understand, Mr.
Flowers?"
"No, not eggzactly," replied Flowers. "Dos yer want ther cussed niggers
drounded?" he asked.
"No, only frightened so they will let me alone," replied the Colonel.
"Frightened!" ejaculated the regulator. "Wall, fokeses in gineral gits
frightened before they gits drounded, don't they? If I don't mistrust
you, Kernel, you wants the bridge upsot, and then you wants the kerridge
upsot, and then you wants the blamed niggers upsot, altogether in the
crick."
"If in your opinion my language bears that construction, you may
proceed," said the Colonel.
"Eggzactly so," replied the regulator. "I may percede with another
percession and a funeral at the tail eend of it. Eight o'clock, sharp!"
reiterated the regulator, and waving his hand backwards at the old man
in the verandah, cried back, "I will be thar or thar abouts," took his
leave.
Clarissa tried to sick "ole Jube" on the regulator as he passed through
the gate, but the old dog looked sheepishly into Clarissa's face and
wagged his tail, as much as to say, "Ef yer wants enybody sicked on dat
white man, jes sick yersef."
Nero never planned the destruction of Rome, nor Titus the destruction of
Jerusalem with a more implacable spirit then did the regulator the
destruction of the upper abutment of the wooden bridge on the Ingleside
plantation. As the bold man stood upon the bridge contemplating the work
to be done, and then upon the cold full orbed moon bathing its face in
light, cumulus clouds, and then on the cold waters, he said to himself;
"A soldier boy that can climb the elements in the Crater fight and butt
his head agin the stars, aint pestered by little diffikilties when it
comes to drownin niggers."
He threw off his coat, took up the crowbar and went to work. The apron
was then propped up upon skids too weak to bear the weight of a
carriage, but so skillfully as to ward off suspicion in case the
structure or any part of it should fall. At 7:30 sharp the work was done
and completely done, the pitfall was laid, and well laid, and at 7:40 a
black cavalcade, noisy and ruffianly, were galloping on the way to take
by force actual possession of Ingleside, against the emphatic protest of
its owner and against the law of the land. They were marching with their
trombones and their flags, flags striped and starred, just like the one
that laughed in the faces of the starved negroes that marched in
platoons, desperately hungry, out of the back doors of the Commissariat.
Just like the one ruffian Laflin wrapped about his beastly person when
he said to poor oppressed Seymour, "My freedmen may make reprisals
whenever they please in this accursed country." Just like the flag that
waved from the stern sheets of the batteau, that cold sleety night, when
Washington was cutting the ice out of his way upon the Delaware. Just
like the "Old Glory" that Ethan Allen wound around his head at
Ticonderoga. Just like the flag that thrilled every heart, that Philip
Barton Key immortalized in the first battle hymn of the Republic.
"Tis the Star Spangled Banner long may it wave,
Over the land of the free and the home of the brave."
"Ah, no," the Southern patriot would say "Our hot sun has tarnished its
bright stars, has made black and dingy the blue field, and see! it is
blushing ever so red, as it is made to accentuate the horrors of
reconstruction." But the flags were coming, so were the horses, and so
were the negroes, and so were the trombones, and so was death, each in a
vain attempt to bridge the chasm before 8 o'clock sharp. Ah, that crash,
that shriek, that doom! The affrightened horses break from the
descending carriage and scamper like zebras into the open fields of
Ingleside. The uniformed escort turn their horses heads and scamper
toward the town, even the trombones have ceased to sound now, but there
are echoing hoofs, and there are the wails of the dying, coming up from
the darkened abyss, and the moon is still bathing its face in the watery
clouds overhead. What! art thou a prophetess, Clarissa, that thou
shouldst have said "I specks when dat time cums yer will be ded and gone
rate strait to torment?"