I saw no more of Aurore. Neither was the black brought along. I could
gather from the conversation of my captors, that they were to be taken
in one of the skiffs that had stayed behind--that they were to be landed
at a different point from that to which we were steering. I could
gather, too, that the poor Bambarra was doomed to a terrible
punishment--the same he already dreaded--the losing of an arm!
I was pained at such a thought, but still more by the rude jests I had
now to listen to. My betrothed and myself were reviled with a
disgusting coarseness, which I cannot repeat.
I made no attempt to defend either her or myself. I did not even reply.
I sat with my eyes bent gloomily upon the water; and it was a sort of
relict to me when the pirogue again passed in among the trunks of the
cypress-trees, and their dark shadow half concealed my face from the
view of my captors. I was brought back to the landing by the old
tree-trunk.
On nearing this I saw that a crowd of men awaited us on the shore; and
among them I recognised the ferocious Ruffin, with his arm slung in his
red kerchief, bandaged and bloody. He was standing up with the rest.
"Thank Heaven! I have not killed him!" was my mental ejaculation. "So
much the less have I to answer for."
The canoes and skiffs--with the exception of that which carried Aurore
and the black--had all arrived at this point, and my captors were
landing. In all there were some thirty or forty men, with a proportion
of half-grown boys. Most of them were armed with either pistols or
rifles. Under the grey gloom of the trees, they presented a picturesque
tableau; but at that moment my feelings were not attuned to enjoy it.
I was landed among the rest; and with two armed men, one before and
another immediately at my back, I was marched off through the woods.
The crowd accompanied us, some in the advance, some behind, while others
walked alongside. These were the boys and the more brutal of the men
who occasionally taunted me with rude speech.
I might have lost patience and grown angry, had that served me; but I
knew it would only give pleasure to my tormentors, without bettering my
condition. I therefore observed silence, and kept my eyes averted or
turned upon the ground.
We passed on rapidly--as fast as the crowd could make way through the
bushes--and I was glad of this. I presumed I was about to be conducted
before a magistrate, or "justice of the peace," as there called. Well,
thought I. Under legal authority, and in the keeping of the officers, I
should be protected from the gibes and insults that were being showered
upon me. Everything short of personal violence was offered; and there
were some that seemed sufficiently disposed even for this.
I saw the forest opening in front. I supposed we had gone by some
shorter way to the clearings. It was not so, for the next moment we
emerged into the glade. Again the glade!
Here my captors came to a halt; and now in the open light I had an
opportunity to know who they were. At a glance I saw that I was in the
hands of a desperate crowd.
Gayarre himself was in their midst, and beside him his own overseer, and
the negro-trader, and the brutal Larkin. With these were some
half-dozen Creole-Frenchmen of the poorer class of _proprietaires_,
weavers of cottonade, or small planters. The rest of the mob was
composed of the very scum of the settlement--the drunken boatmen whom I
had used to see gossiping in front of the "groceries," and other
dissipated rowdies of the place. Not one respectable planter appeared
upon the ground--not one respectable man!
For what had they stopped in the glade? I was impatient to be taken
before the justice, and chafed at the delay.
"Why am I detained here?" I asked in a tone of anger.
"Ho, mister!" replied one; "don't be in such a hell of a hurry! You'll
find out soon enough, I reckon."
"I protest against this," I continued. "I insist upon being taken
before the justice."
"An' so ye will, damn you! You ain't got far to go. _The justice is
hyar_."
"Who? where?" I inquired, under the impression that a magistrate was
upon the ground. I had heard of wood-choppers acting as justices of the
peace--in fact, had met with one or two of them--and among the rude
forms that surrounded me there might be one of these. "Where is the
justice?" I demanded. "Oh, he's about--never you fear!" replied one.
"Whar's the justice?" shouted another. "Ay, whar's the justice?--whar
are ye, judge?" cried a third, as if appealing to some one in the crowd.
"Come on hyar, judge!" he added. "Come along!--hyar's a fellar wants
to see you!"
I really thought the man was in earnest. I really believed there was
such an individual in the mob. The only impression made upon me was
astonishment at this rudeness towards the magisterial representative of
the law.
My misconception was short-lived, for at this moment Ruffin--the
bandaged and bloody Ruffin--came close up to me; and, after scowling
upon me with his fierce, bloodshot eyes, bent forward until his lips
almost touched my face, and then hissed out--
"Perhaps, Mister nigger-stealer, you've niver heerd ov _Justice Lynch_?"
A thrill of horror run through my veins. The fearful conviction flashed
before my mind that _they_ were _going to Lynch me_!