THE TRAGEDY AT THE "DEAD OAK."
When the boat touched at the pier, the slight shock of its contact with
the steps seemed to shake the very soul of the culprit, who had already
been tried and condemned. Though he hoped to escape, the doubt was heavy
enough to weigh down his spirits, and make him feel sadder than he had
ever felt before in his life. It was not with him as it would have been
with one of the crew--with Cyd, for instance, who had been whipped half
a dozen times without taking it very sorely to heart. The Anglo-Saxon
blood in his veins boiled at the thought of such an indignity, and if he
had not entertained a reasonable hope that he should escape the terrible
shame and degradation which menaced him, he would certainly have taken
to the swamp, and ended his days among the alligators and herons.
There was no one on the pier when he landed; and leaving the crew to
dispose of the boat, he walked with a heavy heart towards the mansion of
the planter. He had accomplished but half the distance, when he was met
by one of the house servants, who directed him to repair to the "dead
oak" beyond the negro village. The boy who had delivered this order
hastened back to the house, affording him no opportunity to ask any
questions, even if he had been so disposed.
"Long Tom" and the "dead oak" were ominous phrases at Redlawn, for the
former was the whipper-general of the plantation, and the latter the
whipping-post. The trunk of the decaying tree had been adapted to the
purpose for which it was now used, and though Colonel Raybone was
considered a liberal and humane master, the "dead oak" had been the
scene of many a terrible tragedy.
Because his master was a just and fair man, Dandy hoped to escape the
doom for which all the preparations had already been made; but the
planter was only as humane, as just and fair, as the necessities of the
iniquitous system upon which he had lived and thrived would permit him
to be. If he had lived beyond the reach of the influence of this Upas
tree he might have been a true and noble man. Dandy believed that a true
statement of the facts in the case would move the heart of his master to
mercy--would at least save him from the indignity of being whipped.
With hope, and yet with some fearful misgivings, he went to the "dead
oak," where the group who had been summoned to witness the punishment
were already assembled. By the side of them stood Long Tom, with the
whip in his hand. The strap by which he was to be fastened to the trunk
was adjusted.
Dandy felt a cold chill creep through his frame, attended by a
convulsive shudder, as he beheld these terrible preparations. The hope
which had thus far animated him received a heavy shock, and he regretted
that he had not improved the opportunity to run away before it was too
late.
"Take off your coat!" said Colonel Raybone, sternly.
Dandy obeyed. His cheeks were white, and the color had deserted his
lips. He was then directed, in the same cold and determined tones, to
remove his shirt. His teeth chattered, and his knees smote each other;
and he did not at once obey the order.
"If you please, master, what am I to be whipped for?" said Dandy, in
trembling tones.
"What for, you young villain? How dare you ask such a question?" replied
Colonel Raybone, angrily. "You know what you are to be whipped for. Look
in Archy's face!"
He did look; it was, undoubtedly, a black eye which he had inflicted
upon his young master.
"If you please, sir, Master Archy will explain how it happened," added
Dandy, in soft and subdued tones, which contained a powerful appeal to
the magnanimity of the young lord of the manor.
"Archy has explained how it happened. Do you think I will let one of my
niggers strike my son such a blow as that? Off with your shirt!"
"I didn't want to strike him at all. I didn't want to take off the
gloves, sir. He made me do it."
"Did he make you give him a black eye?" roared the planter. "Do you
expect me to believe such a story as this?"
"Didn't you make me strike?" continued Dandy, turning to his young
master.
"I didn't ask you to get mad, and fly at me like a madman," replied
Archy, coldly, as he placed his handkerchief upon the injured eye.
"I didn't mean to strike him so hard, master. Forgive me this time, and
I never will strike him again."
"I wanted you to strike, but not to get mad," added Archy.
"Forgive me this time, master," pleaded Dandy.
"Forgive you, you villain! I'll forgive you. I'll teach you to strike my
son! Tear off his shirt, Tom!"
Long Tom was a slave. He had groaned and bled beneath the lash himself;
but the trifling favors he had received had debauched his soul, and he
was a willing servant, ready, for a smile from his master, to perform
with barbarous fidelity the diabolical duties of his office. Seizing
Dandy by the arm, he pulled off his shirt, and led him to the tree.
The last ray of hope had expired in the soul of Dandy. His blood
rebelled at the thought of being whipped. He was not stirred by the
emotions which disturb a free child with a whipping in prospect. He
cringed not at the pain, he rebelled not at proper and wholesome
punishment. This whipping was the scourging of the slave; it was the
emblem of his servitude. The blows were the stripes which the master
inflicts upon his bondman. His soul was free, while his body was in
chains; and it was his soul rather than his body that was to be
scourged.
The thought was madness. His blood boiled with indignation, with horror,
and with loathing. The tide of despair surged in upon his spirit, and
overwhelmed him. He resolved not to be whipped, and, when Long Tom
turned away to adjust the strap, he sprang like an antelope through the
group of spectators, and ran with all the speed he could command towards
the river.
Perhaps it was a mistake on the part of Dandy, but it was the noblest
impulse of his nature which prompted him to resist the unjust sentence
that had been passed upon him. He ran, and desperation gave him the
wings of the wind; but he had miscalculated his chances, if he had
considered them at all, for the swift horse of the planter was tied to
a stake near the dead oak. He had been riding over the estate when Archy
returned from Green Point with the story of the blows which had been
inflicted upon him.
Colonel Raybone leaped upon his horse the instant he realized the
purpose of the culprit, and, before Dandy had accomplished half the
distance to the river, the planter overtook him. He rode the horse
directly upon him, and if the intelligent beast had not been kinder than
his rider, the story of poor Dandy might have ended here. As it was, he
was simply thrown down, and before he could rise and recover himself the
planter had dismounted and seized him by the arm.
So deeply had the prejudices of his condition been implanted in his
mind, that the thought of bestowing blows upon the sacred person of his
master did not occur to him. If he had dared to fight, as he had the
strength and the energy to fight, he might still have escaped. Colonel
Raybone was an awful presence to him, and he yielded up his purpose
without a struggle to carry it out.
The planter swore at him with a fury which chilled his blood, and
struck him several smart blows with his riding-whip as the foretaste of
what he was still to undergo.
"Now, back to the tree," said Colonel Raybone, as he mounted his horse
again.
Dandy had given up all hope now, and he marched to the whipping-post, as
the condemned criminal walks to the scaffold. He had advanced but a
short distance before he met the other spectators to his doom, and Long
Tom seized him by the wrist, and held him with an iron gripe till they
reached the dead oak.
"Tie him up quick, Tom," said Colonel Raybone. "It has been more work to
flog this young cub than a dozen full-grown niggers."
Long Tom fastened the straps around Dandy's wrists, and passed them
through a band around the tree, about ten feet from the ground. He then
pulled the victim up till his toes scarcely touched the earth.
"Now, lay them on well," said the planter, vindictively.
"How many, Massa Raybone?" asked Tom, as he unrolled the long lash of
his whip.
[Illustration: THE TRAGEDY AT THE DEAD OAK. Page 58.]
"Lay on till I say stop."
Dandy's flesh quivered, but his spirit shrunk more than his body from
the contamination of the slave-master's scourge. The lash fell across
his back--his back, as white as that of any who read this page. The
blood gushed from the wound which the cruel lash inflicted, but not a
word or a groan escaped from the pallid lips of the sufferer. A dozen
blows fell, and though the flesh was terribly mangled, the laceration of
the soul was deeper and more severe.
"Stop!" said Colonel Raybone.
Long Tom promptly obeyed the mandate. He evidently had no feeling about
the brutal job, and there was no sign of joy or sorrow in his
countenance from first to last. If he felt at all, his experience had
effectually schooled him in the difficult art of concealing his
emotions.
"Take him down," added the planter, who, as he gazed upon the torn and
excoriated flesh of the victim, seemed to feel that the atonement had
washed away the offence.
During the punishment Master Archy had betrayed no small degree of
emotion, and before the driver had struck the sixth blow he had asked
his father, in a whisper, to stay the hand of the negro. He had several
times repeated the request; but Colonel Raybone was inflexible till the
crime had, in his opinion, been fully expiated.
Long Tom unloosed the straps, and the body of the culprit dropped to the
ground, as though the vital spark had for ever fled from its desecrated
tabernacle.
"De boy hab fainted, Massa Raybone," said the driver.
"I see he has," replied the planter, with some evidence of emotion in
his tones, as he bent over the prostrate form of the boy, to ascertain
if more was not done than had been intended.
He felt the pulse of Dandy, and satisfied himself that he was not dead.
We must do him the justice to say that he was sorry for what had
happened--sorry as a kind parent is when compelled to punish a dear
child. He did not believe that he had done wrong, even accepting as true
the statement of the culprit; for the safety of the master and his
family made it necessary for him to regard the striking even of a blow
justifiable under other circumstances as a great enormity. It was the
system, more than the man, that was at fault.
Dandy was not dead, and Colonel Raybone ordered two of the house
servants, who were present, to do every thing that his condition
required. He and Archy then walked towards the house, gloomy and sad,
both of them.