MARCY'S RASH WISH.
"I know mighty well that Kelsey is trifling and lazy when he ain't got
nothing much to occupy his mind," said Beardsley, who was not slow to
catch the meaning of the frightened glances which mother and son so
quickly exchanged, "but when he was working on my place and bossing my
hands, I found him----"
"Are you in earnest in proposing him for my mother's overseer?" cried
Marcy, as soon as he could speak. "Our fields can grow up to briars
first."
"But really, he wants work," began the colonel.
"Then let him go down to the Island and work in the trenches," replied
Marcy. "He can't come here."
"But Kelsey is the only support of his family," the colonel remarked.
"He is loyal to our cause, and would enlist in a minute if he had enough
ahead to support his wife and children during his absence; but he hasn't
got it."
"They will fare just as well without him as they do with him. If they
get hungry, my mother will no doubt feed them as she has done a hundred
times before; but Kelsey can't come on this place to work. There isn't
money enough in the State to induce us to agree to that."
"But what you uns going to do for an overseer?" said Beardsley again.
"You'll need one if you intend to run the place."
"Not until the hands return from the Island," replied Marcy, "and then I
shall take hold myself."
Having done all they intended to do when they came there the visitors
were ready to leave, and Colonel Shelby gave the signal by arising from
his chair and pulling his collar up about his ears.
"I still think, Mrs. Gray, that Marcy ought to take this money," said
he. "The captain does not offer it to him as a gift but as his due."
"We perfectly understand the object he had in mind," answered the lady;
whereupon the colonel opened his eyes and looked at her very hard. "But
if Marcy thinks he ought not to receive it I have nothing to say."
"I hope you will not regret it," said the colonel. "Some people seem to
think that we are about entering upon a long conflict, and that money
will be a necessary thing to have after a while."
"But if you get hard up, which I hope you won't, don't forget that this
thousand dollars is all yourn, Marcy," exclaimed the captain.
Marcy assured him that he would bear it in mind. If Beardsley hoped to
hear him declare that his mother had more money in the house than she
was likely to need, he was disappointed.
"And don't forget either, that if at any time you stand in need of such
assistance as the captain and I can give, you must not hesitate to say
so," continued the colonel, as he bowed to Mrs. Gray and followed Marcy
to the door. "Our little settlement, I am sorry to say, is full of the
meanest of traitors, and it may comfort you to know that there are a few
persons in it to whom you can speak freely."
"We know that, and it certainly is a very great comfort to us," replied
Marcy, thinking of Aleck Webster. "It will take more than a thousand
dollars to keep roofs over your heads if anything comes of this day's
work," was what he added to himself when he had seen the men ride out of
the yard. "I saw through your little game from the first, and yet I went
and gave myself away. That was about the biggest piece of foolishness I
was ever guilty of; but I suppose it was to be so. I was all in the dark
before, but I know what I am going to do now."
In order that we may know whether or not Marcy's fears were well
founded, let us ride with Beardsley and his companion long enough to
overhear a few words of their conversation. The moment they rode out of
the gate, and were concealed from the house by the thick shrubbery and
trees that surrounded it, Beardsley threw back the collar of his coat,
giving the cold rain and sleet a fair chance at him, and almost reeled
in his saddle, so convulsed was he with the merriment that could no
longer be restrained.
"I done it, by gum!" he exclaimed, shaking his head and flourishing his
riding-whip in the air. "I done it, didn't I?"
"You did not purchase his good-will, if that is what you mean," answered
his companion. "He wouldn't touch your gold. He knew why you offered it
as well as I did, and I was satisfied from the start that you would not
catch him that way. He will put those Union men on you if you so much as
crook your finger."
"But I aint a-going to crook no fingers," said Beardsley, with a hoarse
laugh. "Let him sick 'em on if he wants to, but he'd best watch out that
I don't get there first. Say, colonel, that there money is in the house
all right, just as we uns thought it was."
"How do you know?" exclaimed his companion. The colonel had not noticed
the frightened glances that Marcy and his mother exchanged when Kelsey's
name was mentioned, and he was surprised to hear Beardsley speak so
positively.
"Say!" answered the captain. "You aint forgot how you sent Kelsey up to
Mrs. Gray's, while I was at sea, to make some inquiries about the money
she was thought to have stowed away, have you? Well, Marcy and his
mother aint forgot it nuther; and when I spoke Kelsey's name, and said
mebbe he would be a good one to take Hanson's place, Marcy jumped like I
had stuck a pin in him."
"Well, what of it?"
"What of it? Marcy knowed in a minute that I wanted to have that man
took on the plantation for to snoop around of nights and find out all
about that money. But I aint a caring. I know the money is there, and
that's all I wanted to find out. The ways I have talked and schemed and
planned to make that there boy say that him and his maw had as much as
they wanted to tide them through the war that's coming, is just amazing,
now that I think of it; but not a word could I get out of him. He was
too smart to be ketched; but all on a sudden he gives out the secret as
easy as falling off a log. The money is there, I tell you."
"And you intend to get it, I suppose?" added the colonel. "Well, now,
look here, Beardsley; don't say a word to me about it."
"All right, Colonel," said Beardsley, who could scarcely have been
happier if he had had the whole of Mrs. Gray's thirty thousand dollars
where he could put his hand upon it at any time he pleased. "I know what
you mean by them words. Of course you are too big a man and too rich to
go into business with me, but I know some who aint. I'll show them Grays
that they aint so great as they think for."
"Have you so soon forgotten what that letter said?" inquired the
colonel. "If anything happens to Marcy's mother or her property some of
us will be sure to suffer for it, unless you are sharp enough to lay the
blame upon some one else."
"Say!" replied Beardsley, in a whisper. "That's what I'm thinking of
doing. Your time's your own, I reckon, aint it? and you don't mind a
little mite of rain, do you? Then come with me and see how I am going to
work it."
So saying the captain urged his horse into a lope, and Colonel Shelby
followed his example. After a while they turned into one of the narrow
lanes that ran through Beardsley's cultivated fields to the woods that
lay behind them, galloped past Mrs. Brown's cheerless cabin, and at last
drew rein before the door of one that was still more cheerless and
dilapidated. It stood in one corner of a little patch of ground that had
been planted to corn and potatoes, and which had received such slight
care and attention of late years that the blackberry briars were
beginning to take possession of it. A small pack of lean and hungry coon
dogs greeted the visitors as they stopped in front of the cabin, and
their yelping soon brought their master to the door. He was the same
lazy Kelsey we once saw sitting on the front porch of Mrs. Gray's house,
only his hair was longer, his whiskers more tangled and matted, and his
clothes worse for wear.
"Alight and hitch," was the way in which he welcomed Captain Beardsley
and his companion. "Git out, ye whelps!"
"Can't stop so long," replied the captain. "Been over to Mrs. Gray's to
see how my pilot was getting on, and tried to scare up a job for you at
overseering, in the place of that chap who was took off in the night
time."
"I dunno's I am a-caring for a job of that sort," answered Kelsey. "I've
got a sight of work of my own that had oughter be did."
"That's so," said Beardsley, glancing at the broken fences, the bare
wood-yard and the briars that were encroaching upon the borders of the
little field. "But there's no ready money in your work, while there is a
sight of it up to the Grays."
"I won't work for no sich," declared Kelsey. "They think too much of
their niggers."
"They set a heap more store by them nor they do by such poor folks as
you be. But you needn't bother. They won't take you and give you a
chance to keep your head above water, and put a bite of grub into the
mouths of your family and a few duds on their backs. They allowed that
they wouldn't have no such trifling hound as you on their place."
"Did Mrs. Gray use them words about me?" exclaimed Kelsey, growing
excited on the instant.
"I heard somebody say them very words, but I aint naming no names; nor I
aint been nowheres except up to Mrs. Gray's to-day. One of 'em allowed
that if you wasn't too doggone useless to live, you'd go and 'list on
the Island."
"I'm jest as good as they be," said the man, who by this time was
looking as though he felt very ugly.
"That's so. And some of 'em likewise said that a man who was too lazy to
keep a tight roof over his own head, when he could have nails and boards
by asking for 'em, wouldn't do no good as an overseer," added Beardsley,
counting the holes in the top of the cabin through which the rafters
could be seen, and glancing at the stick chimney, which leaned away from
the wall as if it were about to topple over. "But that aint what I come
here for, to carry tales about my neighbors. I want to say I'm glad to
see you doing so well, and that if you are needing a small side of meat
and a little meal, you know where to get 'em."
"Sarvant, sah," replied Kelsey. "That there is more neighbor-like than
demeaning a man for a trifling hound because he is pore, and I'll bear
it in mind, I bet you. As for my roof, it's a heap better'n the one them
Grays will have to cover them in a week from now; you hear me? That big
house of theirn will burn like a bresh-heap."
"Well, take care of yourself," answered the captain. "But if I'd
suspicioned you was going to fly mad about it, I wouldn't 'a' spoke a
word to you."
"Kelsey will never carry out his threat," said Colonel Shelby, as the
two rode away from the cabin. "He is too big a coward."
"I know that mighty well, but you can say that you heard him speak them
very words, can't you?"
Captain Beardsley was very lively and talkative after that, and plumed
himself on having done a neat stroke of work that would turn suspicion
from himself, when the results of a certain other plan he had in his
head should become known in the settlement. But perhaps we shall see
that he forgot one very important thing. As to the colonel, although he
approved the work that was to be done, he had the profoundest contempt
for the man who could deliberately plan and carry it out. He had little
to say, and was glad when his horse brought him to a bridle-path that
would take him away from Beardsley and toward his own home.
Meanwhile Marcy Gray was in a most uncomfortable frame of mind. When he
saw the visitors ride out of the gate, he closed the door and went back
to his mother. "The captain never spoke of meeting you and Jack at
Crooked Inlet," were the first words she uttered.
"Of course not," replied Marcy. "You did not expect him to, did you? But
I rather looked for him to give some reason for coming home, and to hear
him say that he would have no further occasion for my services; but he
was so disappointed because I would not take that hush-money----"
"O Marcy!" exclaimed his mother. "I was afraid that that was what the
money was intended for."
"That was just it, and how the colonel stared when you said you
understood the object Beardsley had in view in offering it. Those men
think we can destroy their buildings or protect them, just as we
please."
"But, Marcy, we cannot do it."
"Let them keep on thinking so if they want to. And another reason
Beardsley didn't say all he meant to was because I was foolish enough to
give him something else to think about. I was frightened when he
mentioned Kelsey's name, for I knew in an instant what he wanted the man
on the place for, and I showed that I was frightened."
"So did I, Marcy," groaned Mrs. Gray. "So did I."
"Well, it can't be expected that a woman will be on the watch all the
time, but I ought to have had better sense. I gave Beardsley good reason
for thinking that there is something on or about the place that we don't
want a stranger to know anything about, and of course he believes it is
money. But don't you worry. We'll come out all right in the end."
So saying Marcy put on his coat and cap, kissed his mother, and left the
house to tell one of the hands to put the saddle on his horse. At the
door he met old Morris, who was just coming in with the mail. He saw at
a glance that the darky was frightened.
"Marse Marcy, dere's going be great doings 'bout dis place," he began.
"Never mind. I can't stop to hear about it now, for I am in a hurry.
Give those papers and letters to one of the girls, and let her carry
them in. I wouldn't have you go into my mother's presence with that face
of yours for anything. Say nothing to nobody, and I will see you again
as I can go to the quarter and back."
From his earliest boyhood Marcy had always been glad to go among the
field hands when he was troubled, for they were so full of fun, and had
so many quaint and amusing things to say to him that gloomy thoughts
could not long keep his company in their presence; but it was not so
this time. He silenced all their laughter by the very first words he
spoke to them. All the able-bodied men among them (and Marcy designated
them by name) were to start for Plymouth before daylight the next
morning, to work on the Confederate fortifications. Some of them
rebelled at once, and declared that they wouldn't stir a step, but
thought better of it when Marcy told them that, if they did not go
willingly, they would be marched down by a squad of soldiers, who would
not hesitate to help them along by a prod from a bayonet if they showed
the least disposition to lag behind. It took him longer to get through
with this disagreeable duty than he thought it would, for the blacks
hung around him, and clung to his hands as though they never expected to
see him again; but it was accomplished at last, and then Marcy turned
about, and rode back to the house to interview the coachman. He found
him wandering disconsolately about among the horses, too dispirited to
work. The two went out in the rain together, taking care to keep out of
sight of the sitting-room windows, and the faithful old darky astonished
the white boy by describing, almost word for word, as we have told it,
what had been said and done in Mrs. Brown's cabin that morning while Tom
Allison and Mark Goodwin were there. He said not a word until Morris
finished his story, and then he inquired:
"Where did you hear all this?"
"Marse Beardsley's niggah gal, Nancy, was dar, and heared and seen it
all wid her own eyes and ears," replied Morris. "She met me on de road
when I was coming home wid de mule and de mail, and done told me. Is dat
a fac' 'bout de money, Marse Marcy?"
The boy did not in the least doubt the truthfulness of the story. He
knew that the girl Nancy looked out for Mrs. Brown's comfort in a
shiftless sort of way; that long association with the old gossip had
made her a tolerable gossip herself; and that, although she was often
sent to the overseer on account of it, she kept on talking just the
same. Besides, Nancy could not have known about the money unless she had
heard somebody speak of it. And Mark Goodwin was sure it was concealed
in the cellar wall! That was the worst piece of news Marcy Gray had ever
listened to. He stood for some minutes looking down at the ground in
deep study, and then he seized the black man's arm and drew him closer
to him. He gave him some rapid whispered instructions, old Morris now
and then nodding, as if to show that he understood them perfectly, and
then they shook hands, as two brothers might have done, and separated.
At daylight the next morning there was not a single able-bodied black
man to be seen on Mrs. Gray's plantation, if we except the few who found
employment about the house, the working party having left hours before.
Marcy saw them from his window as they marched out of the gate with
their bundles on their backs, but he did not go down to speak to them.
He had taken leave of them once, and had no desire to go through the
same ordeal again. He rode into Nashville that morning, as he did every
other morning for the next two weeks, but the only news he heard related
to the fortifications at Roanoke Island, which grew in size and strength
every day, and were to be held at all hazards. He thought it strange
that he did not see Aleck Webster, but, of course, he dared not ask
after him. He saw Allison, and Goodwin, and others of that stamp, who
went out of their way to profess friendship for him; but Marcy never
lingered long in their company until one day when they followed him to
the hitching-rack, after he had secured his mail, to warn him that he
had better have an eye on that man Kelsey, who meant harm to him.
"What does he think he has against me?" was the first question Marcy
asked. "Doesn't he want me to feed him any more?"
"He doesn't want grub so much as he wants work," replied Goodwin. "And
you wouldn't hire him to take Hanson's place."
"Hadn't we a right to say who shall work for us and who shall not?"
demanded Marcy. "But we don't need anybody. I am going to act as my
mother's overseer; that is, if I ever have any hands to oversee."
"But Kelsey doesn't like to be called a lazy, trifling hound; and you
wouldn't like it either," said Allison.
"I never called him that. I simply said that I would let the fields grow
up to briars before I would have him on the place, and I say so yet. Let
him enlist, if he wants something to do."
"But he can't enlist. The doctors wouldn't pass him."
"Has he tried them?"
"What would be the use? Can't you see for yourself how he is bent almost
double with rheumatism?"
"I can see how he bends over because he is too lazy to straighten up,
but I never heard that he had rheumatism. What is he going to do to
me?"
"He has threatened to burn you out."
"I expect to be burned out, but not by that man Kelsey. Now mind what I
say, you two. When that thing happens you will see some disappointed men
and boys right here in this settlement, and our house will be in good
company when it burns. Good-morning."
"Hold on!" exclaimed Mark. "Don't go off mad. What do you mean?"
"I mean what I say," answered Marcy, who wanted to say more, but thought
it would not be prudent. "And there is no need that I should enter into
explanations with you and Tom Allison."
Marcy rode away, wondering if he had done wrong in letting those young
rebels see that he was so well posted. If he had made a mistake in
speaking so plainly it was too late to mourn over it now. He wished he
might have opportunity to exchange a few words with Aleck Webster, and
sometimes, during the week that followed, he was strongly tempted to
ride by his house in the hope of seeing him there; but prudence always
interposed in time to keep him from doing anything so rash. Then he
waited and hoped for a sign from some of the other members of the band;
but, although he was sure that he met and spoke to them every day in the
post-office, they said no word to him that could not have been uttered
in the presence of a third party, nor did they give him a chance to
speak to them in private. Marcy told himself that it was little short of
maddening to live in this way to know that there were enemies all about
him and not a single old-time friend of his family to whom he could go
for advice or comfort. The state of suspense he was in day and night was
hard to bear, and Marcy was almost ready to do some desperate deed to
bring it to an end.
A few days more passed and once more Colonel Shelby and Captain
Beardsley came to visit the family. This was nothing unusual, for they
and others often came now to keep up an appearance of friendship, and to
inquire if there was any way in which they could be of assistance to
Mrs. Gray. They stayed an hour, and when they went away, and Marcy and
his mother reviewed the conversation that had taken place during the
visit, to see if they had been entrapped into saying anything they ought
not to have said, the only news they remembered to have heard was that
Shelby and Beardsley, and some others whose names they mentioned, were
going down to the Island to inspect the works, and see how their hands
were getting along under their military overseers. They would probably
be gone three or four days, and if Marcy or his mother desired to send a
word of remembrance to any faithful old servant, they should be pleased
to take it.
"I am getting heartily tired of visits of this sort," said Marcy. "I
wish they would keep away, and let us alone, for I don't care to talk to
men I have to watch all the time. I am afraid there is something back of
these friendly calls."
There was something back of this one at any rate--something that was
very like a tragedy; and the first act was performed that night a little
after dark. Marcy was just rising from a late supper, when the sound of
hoofs was heard on the carriage-way, and Bose challenged with all his
might. When Marcy opened the door he saw the horseman bending down from
his saddle, and waving his hand at the dog as if he were trying to quiet
him. He was so far away that Marcy could not see who he was, although
the light from the hall lamp streamed brightly out into the darkness.
When he heard the boy's step upon the porch the man straightened up, but
did not offer to come any nearer.
"What is wanted?" demanded Marcy.
"Does this yere road lead to Nashville?" asked a hoarse, gruff voice
that Marcy had never heard before.
"The one outside the gate leads to Nashville, but the one you are on
leads up to this door," answered the boy, who, for some reason or other,
began to feel uneasy.
"You aint overly civil to strangers in these parts, seems like," said
the man. "I've been out lookin' for niggers to work on the forts, an'
got lost, if it will do you any good to know it." And, with the words,
he turned his horse about, and galloped out of the yard.
It was a very simple incident--one that was likely to happen at any
time--but all that evening Marcy could not get it out of his mind. He
could not read, either, and did not want to talk, so he went to bed at
an early hour; but before he did so, he made the rounds of the house
with a lighted lantern in his hand. Bose was in his usual place on the
rug in front of the door, and so fast asleep that he did not move when
his master stepped over him, and the doors and windows in the lower part
of the house, as well as those in the cellar, were closed and fastened,
and, having satisfied himself on these points, Marcy bade his mother
good-night, and went to his room. But he did not close his door. He took
pains to leave it wide open, and called himself foolish for doing it.
"I am getting to be afraid of the dark," was what he thought, as he
turned down his lamp and tumbled into bed. "There isn't a darky on the
plantation who hates to have night come as bad as I do, and I don't know
that there is anything surprising in it. If there is danger hanging over
this house, I wish it would drop, and have done with it."
Marcy went to sleep with this rash wish half formed in his mind.