Bill Sikes.
Bill Sikes was a man who always looked ahead and wisely prepared for
declining years. Bill was a carpenter by trade, and by thrift and
industry saved money, bought land and built houses upon it, so that he
might leave comfortable homes for his many children. When the calamity
came which incapacitated him for further usefulness he had come into
possession of a whole block in the portion of the city known as "New
Town." His prosperity did not, however, lessen his activity; he forgot
that he was getting old, for his limbs were yet supple and his eyes
perfectly clear. He measured off his lumber and drove nails with the
strength and accuracy of a young man; yet, as death lurks in every
passing breeze, feeling well is no evidence of sound health or assurance
of long life. Bill Sikes seldom complained. Steady habits had made him
vigorous and confident; but one morning his fond wife stood in the door
and watched him as with head erect and firm step he strode away to his
work, only to be borne back to her at noon a helpless paralytic. "What's
the matter, William?" she asked tenderly, as loving hands lay him upon
the lounge before her. But the tongue which had bid her good-bye so
fondly that morning could not utter a word, and the eyes that had gazed
so sweetly into hers bespoke the bitter anguish of his soul as they
stared vacantly at her. "He's done fer," said one of the men, rubbing
his eye with the back of his hand. "The doctors seen him and says he
ain't fer long." "Speak to me, William," cried Mrs. Sikes, bending low
and pressing her cheeks against her husband's. He raised his arm to
caress her, but it fell again to his side.
But Bill Sikes did not die; he rallied; the lost strength gradually came
back to his palsied limbs sufficiently to enable him to hobble around,
and his tongue became light enough to utter words that could be
understood with difficulty. Full and complete recovery was impossible,
however; he was a child, helplessly clinging to his wife, whose burden
was increased tenfold with the larger children all away and management
of everything--the looking after their little store and other property
upon her shoulders; she felt that God had tried her as no other soul had
been tried. The property of Bill Sikes had for a long time been coveted
by his white neighbors, but even extortionate offers had been refused.
But the 10th of November offered a favorable opportunity for the
covetous to bulldoze black men who owned valuable real estate into
selling it at any price, and Mrs. Sikes was one of that number whose
experience had turned their love for the dear old home into hate. She
had witnessed the killing of a poor wretch right in front of her door,
within a stone's throw of his home; had heard the agonizing wails of his
wife and children--a sight which she had never expected to witness in
Wilmington. The roar of cannon and musketry, the yells of frightened
women and children kept her poor, helpless husband in constant terror,
hanging on to her skirts like a babe. And now, although weeks had passed
since that fatal day, the native white, emboldened by re-enforcement and
the demoralization of colored men, kept up the reign of terror. Colored
women of respectability who had not fled the city were compelled to
remain prisoners in their homes to escape ignominious treatment upon the
highways.
It was a few mornings after Thanksgiving Day when Mrs. West left her
cottage on Campbell street and ventured over to pay a visit to Mrs.
Sikes. "Well, Henrietta, how have you managed to live through it all?"
she asked, throwing her arms about the waist of Mrs. Sikes, who saw her
approaching, and had gone out upon the porch to greet her. "And poor
William! I've thought of you oh! so many times, Henrietta, knowing of
just how much you were in need of his protection during these days of
trial." "Yes," answered Mrs. Sikes, leading the visitor in and bolting
the door. "The burden upon his poor wife's shoulders is indeed heavy;
but, then, our men are unable to protect us, anyway, so great are the
odds against them." "Oh, Wilmington! Wilmington! who would have thought
that thou wouldst be the theatre for the tragedy enacted within thy
borders!" interrupted Mrs. West. "Some of us, at least, are too well
bred, have too much self-respect and pride to stand and endure this
state of things that exists now in our home. We could go to church and
worship unmolested in the days of slavery; now we have not been
permitted for weeks to hold public worship. They are determined to place
and keep North Carolina on a level with States further South. Would you
believe it? one of our white ladies sent her servant down to the bandit
Mayor to be whipped the other day." "Yes," said Mrs. Sikes, "another
went down to have a Negro woman driven out of her own house because she
lived in a white neighborhood and the children had had a little trouble
among themselves. And the poor black woman, to remain in her house, was
compelled to get down on her knees and beg the white one's pardon."
"Well," said Mrs. West, "we held a meeting the other night, and I told
the few who had the courage to venture out that I was going. Give me
liberty or give me death! I would rather be a beggar in a land of
liberty than a Croesus where my wealth will not purchase toleration. The
colored citizens who own property are the very ones who have been forced
to leave the city." "I have also made up my mind to do the same,"
answered Mrs. Sikes. "William is so disgusted that he wants to go even
if he has to sell our property for half its value. Then he thinks that
in New York he can go under treatment in one of the many great hospitals
there. He has improved so much that he believes final recovery possible.
To tell you the truth, I did not believe that I could become so
disgusted with my own home, in which I was born and loved so well." "It
may all be for the best," said Mrs. West. "Some one hath sinned--there
is an Achan in the camp, and when the sin is punished innocent and
guilty suffer alike. In our prosperity we have strayed away from Him who
hath redeemed us, and these broken down aristocrats and poor white
indentured slaves are the Philistines sent to scourge us. And, then, we
have been slaves to the idea that there is no place on earth for us to
live but here in our home. The eagle hath stirred up her nest that her
young may scatter abroad. Old as I am, I will leave Wilmington, trusting
in God and feeling that the world is mine, and if I can't live in peace
in one place I can go to another. But the most important thing is, Molly
has consented to go." "Brave girl!" said Mrs. Sikes. "I heard of her
wonderful deeds during the massacre; I didn't believe it was in her. In
her new surroundings, away from old associate, she will keep straight. I
have made up my mind to go finally to Cleveland, Ohio, my old home.
Colored women are not so much annoyed by white men in the North and West
as in the South, and Molly may there be enabled to quit her old habits.
We will see each other before we start away, as I shall take a steamer,
for we may stay a while in New York," concluded Mrs. West, rising to go.
"It matters not where on earth we may roam, there are twelve gates to
the City up there. There is no more parting, no more persecution, no
more separation, no tears. So long, till I see you again."
The usurping Mayor of Wilmington had just disposed of the last case upon
docket, dismissed the court and had settled back in his chair to enjoy
the morning paper, when Bill Sikes entered, and, with his hat in his
hand, humbly approached the railing behind which the Mayor sat. He
rested his palsied hand upon the rail and saluted. The Mayor arose, came
forward and extended his hand. "Well, Bill, how are you?" "Mornin',
Colonel," answered he. "I come down to tell yer I'm goin'." "Going?
Where?" "I think I'll try the North, Colonel." The Mayor's face relaxed.
"Why, Bill, you are all right; no one's troubled you. If all the Negroes
were like you we would have had no trouble." "Yes, I know I'm all
right," answered Bill, "but I can't stan' seein' men who was playmates
of mine shot down on the streets like dogs by their ol' 'sociates an'
neighbors. You know, Colonel, I'm one who b'lieved in the white people
of this town, an' was ready at any time to stake ma life on that belief;
but what has took place in Wilmington an' what is still goin' on has
converted me." "Now, Bill," said the Mayor, somewhat moved, "the white
people of Wilmington had to resort to this to restore the government to
those to whom it rightfully belonged. White people must rule, Bill." "I
ain't got no objection to your rulin', but drivin' out black citizens
who have stood by yer an' been always faithful to yer is er grave
mistake. The deal yer made with these po-bocra is goin' ter give yer
trouble, Colonel, mark ma words. You ain't got no more use fer po'
whites than I have, an' I know it." "But they were the means to the end,
Bill," answered the Mayor, with a smile. "A kingdom divided agin itself
is er goin' ter fall, Colonel." "Don't be a fool and leave your home
because of unpleasantness; remember you are getting old; the North is no
place for you; you are comfortably fixed here." "Yes, Colonel, I know
that, but I'm not goin' ter stay in er place where a d--n scoundrel can
insult ma wife an' I can't pertect her, an' you know there's been a time
when I could. Good-bye, Colonel." "Good-bye, Bill; you'll regret it I'm
afraid."
Bill Sikes went back home to prepare for his journey northward.