A FRIEND IN GRAY.
Marcy Gray had seldom thought of his mother's overseer since he learned
that he had been spirited away by armed and masked men, and, when he
did, it was to indulge in the hope that he would never see or hear of
him again. He did not believe that Hanson would dare disregard the
warning of the Union men, who had "turned him loose, with orders never
to show his face in the settlement again;" but here he was, riding along
the public road in broad daylight, without making the least effort at
concealment, and, to make the situation more alarming, he was riding one
of Captain Beardsley's horses. Acting upon the first thought that came
into his mind, Marcy urged his filly forward, intending to speak to the
man, and Hanson, nothing loath, turned his horse about to wait for him.
"I'm on hands agin, like a bad piece of money," he said, with a laugh.
"So I see," answered Marcy. "And I must say that I little expected to
meet you."
Hanson's response, and the way in which he acted, disheartened Marcy
Gray, for they gave him a clew to the course this enemy of his mother's
had marked out for himself. The first thing he did was to ride up and
offer Marcy his hand, and the boy took it, because he did not think it
would be policy to refuse. He wanted to find out what the man's plans
were, and he could not do that by making him angry the first thing he
did. Then Hanson went on to say:
"But I'm back agin, all the same, and safe and sound, too. I hope you
didn't think I would let them few Yankees scare me away from my home
altogether? I belong on your plantation, and there's right where I am
going before I am many hours older."
This was an astounding and terrifying statement, and it was a minute or
two before Marcy could collect his wits sufficiently to reply to it.
"We never expected you to come back, and so I took your place," said he
at length. "I am my mother's overseer now."
"You!" exclaimed Hanson, with a laugh. "What do you know about farming
and driving niggers? 'Taint gentleman's work, that aint, and you aint by
no means suited to it. I'll take it off your hands now. 'Cording to my
contract, I can't leave till next month, any way, and, besides, I've
lost right smart of time. I didn't leave the plantation of my own free
will; but that don't make no difference."
"We owe you a little money, and mother will give it to you any day you
call for it; but we don't ask you to make up any lost time," said Marcy,
who couldn't bear the thought of having this sneaking Hanson on the
plantation again.
"I know what my duty is," replied the overseer very decidedly, "and I
mean to do it. I bargained with your mother for so much a year. I want
every cent of that money, for I can't afford to do without it; but I
shan't ask for it till I have done twelve good solid months of work."
Marcy felt like yelling, and it was only by a great effort of will that
he controlled himself. He knew pretty nearly what was before him now. He
believed that Beardsley had kept track of Hanson; that he knew where he
had been all the while, and that he had brought him back to fill out his
unexpired term as overseer, because he had failed to induce Marcy and
his mother to employ Kelsey in his place. Hanson would make it his
business to get on the track of that money. He would not succeed, of
course; but Mrs. Gray would not see a moment's peace during her waking
hours, or enjoy a moment's refreshing sleep at night, as long as Hanson
remained on the place. Oh, why was not Aleck Webster on hand to tell him
what to do in a case like this?
"I knowed your maw would be looking for me to come back and finish out
my time," continued Hanson, "but I was most afraid to come till I heard
that the coast was clear, and I wouldn't be in no danger of being
pestered by them Union men."
"There are some of them about here yet," said Marcy.
"Not many, there aint," replied the overseer, who seemed to understand
the situation perfectly. "The wust of them have went into the Yankee
navy; and them that's left aint men to be afraid of. Besides, I've got a
body guard that won't put up with no nonsense from them or any other
Union men. You know all about the Home Guards?"
"I heard of them for the first time this morning," said Marcy
truthfully. "But then I have not been around much since I came home."
The last words slipped out before Marcy knew it; but Hanson seemed to
take them as a matter of course, for he said in reply:
"I don't know as I blame you for keeping clost to home for a few days.
You couldn't do no other way than you did do, but there's some
onreasonable folks about who stick to it that you had oughter run that
there gunboat on the ground. That's what Beardsley allowed to do, but
they didn't give him the chance. I wouldn't like to be one who had
anything to do with the burning of Beardsley's house. He's an officer in
the Home Guards, a leftenant or something, and he allows to hunt them
men down the first thing he does."
"Probably he knows where to look for them," said Marcy.
"If he don't he can guess pretty clost to the place," answered Hanson.
"But you're all right. Nobody in this settlement is going to let harm
come to you."
"When did you return, and how does it come that you are riding the
captain's horse?"
"Oh, him and me has always been friends, and when he got Miss Brown to
write to me in Newbern that it was safe for me to come back and work my
year out on your plantation, and that he knew you and your maw was
looking for me to do it, as any honest man should, I come right to his
house. I've been here three days, looking round and keeping sorter clost
in doors, and allow to go up to your place this afternoon."
So it seemed that there was no help for it, at least for the present.
The man had told him some things he was glad to know, and talked as
though he believed Marcy to be as good a rebel as he was himself.
Perhaps he would be willing to go further and tell him how he, Marcy,
stood in the estimation of the Home Guards.
"I suppose the object of that organization is to make Union men behave
themselves," he said, at a venture.
"You're mighty right," answered Hanson. "Likewise to see that all the
prisoners about here, who was paroled at the Island, go back to the army
where they belong. Some of 'em have been talking agin the 'Federacy in a
way we uns don't like to hear, and we're going to put a stop to all sich
work as that."
"No one asked me to join, and that is the reason I knew nothing about
it," continued Marcy. "When you see Beardsley, will you tell him that I
want to come in?"
If he expected the man to hesitate or raise objections he was
disappointed, for Hanson answered readily:
"I'll do it. You'll get in easy enough, and I know Beardsley will be
glad to have you. Some of our men aint got a thing in the way of guns,
and I know you wouldn't mind lending some of yours that you don't need.
Well, I must be piking along. I'll be up this afternoon, tell your
maw."
"And it will be the worst news she ever heard," thought Marcy, as the
two separated and rode away in different directions. "What he is up to
now I can't imagine; but he has strong backing, I know from the way he
talks. Mother has always been afraid that he would come back to trouble
her, and here he is. And here am I without a friend to advise or assist
me. I was almost sure that something like this would happen when Aleck
Webster and his friends deserted me."
But if Aleck was gone there was at least one man in the neighborhood who
was able and willing to take his place, and that was Ben Hawkins, the
paroled prisoner, whom he encountered before he left Beardsley's gate a
quarter of a mile behind. The man was sitting on his horse in the middle
of the road, and the first words he spoke seemed to indicate that he was
waiting for Marcy.
"Who was that onery looking chap I met along here a spell ago riding
Beardsley's old clay-bank?" said Hawkins. "I seen you talking to him up
there."
"Oh, Mr. Hawkins," exclaimed Marcy, who had suddenly resolved to put a
certain matter to the test then and there. "You saw and talked with a
Federal scouting party that came through here this morning, and the
officer in command told me that you are a good friend of mine. Is that
so or not?"
"What do you want me to do to prove it?" asked the rebel in reply.
"Ob, a hundred things," answered Marcy. "But in the first place, do you
know anything about the Home Guards?"
"Being one of 'em I oughter know all about 'em," was the reply. "But not
being pizen enough agin the Unionists to suit 'em, I have sorter got it
into my head that they are keeping some things from me. All the same, I
know enough to be sartin sure that they mean harm to you."
"That is what I thought; and I am certain of it too, now that this
Hanson has returned. He used to be my mother's overseer, and is the man
who was taken from his house and carried into the swamp."
"So that's the chap, is it?" exclaimed Hawkins. "I didn't know him, for
your mother hired him after I 'listed; but I've heard as much as I want
to know about him. Of course he is going back on the place to stay his
time out?"
"That is what he says; but the worst of it is that he wants to make up
the time he lost by being carried away. Now, is there any way in which I
can stop that?"
"You can shoot him, I reckon. That's what I'd do for any man who kept
shoving himself on me when he wasn't wanted, like this feller is shoving
himself on you and your maw."
Marcy made no reply, for nothing he could then think of would have
induced him to carry things as far as that. Hawkins understood this, and
after thinking a moment he added:
"You can give his name to the fust Yankee officer you meet scouting
around out here, or you can leave a note on Beardsley's gallery and
Shelby's, telling them that, if they don't get him off your place in a
little less than no time, some more of their buildings will go up in
smoke. Where's the schooner that Beardsley used to run the blockade in?
He'd ruther lose half his niggers than lose her."
"I know what you mean, but the trouble is I can't prove anything on him.
I can't bear the thought of destroying his property just because I think
he is persecuting me."
"If you should blame everything that has happened to you on him you
would not be fur wrong," said Hawkins earnestly. "He's mighty savage
agin you for not trying to make that gunboat cap'n quit putting him in
irons----"
"How in the name of common sense could I stop it?" cried Marcy. "I
didn't volunteer to go on that boat (I blame Jonas for that), and would
Captain Benton have paid any attention to me if I had interceded for
Beardsley? I might have brought myself into difficulty by it."
"Course," replied Hawkins. "A blind man could see that, but all the same
Beardsley means to even up with you 'cause he was ironed and you wasn't.
He is first leftenant of the Home Guards, Colonel Shelby being the
captain, and he's going to take you out'n your bed some night and send
you to Williamston."
"What for?" exclaimed Marcy.
"And put you in jail there," continued Hawkins. "The lock-up is jammed
full of Union men already, but they'll find room for one more. And mind
you, after you onct get in you'll not come out till you promise to 'list
in the Confederate army. That's the way they are doing now to put
patriotism into people who aint got any."
"Do you know when the Home Guards intend to come to our house?"
"No, I don't. I wisht I did, so't I could tell you when to be on the
watch for 'em; but that's one of the things they aint told me, and the
only way I can think of for you to beat 'em is to be on your guard night
and day, beginning now."
While this conversation was going on Marcy and his companion had been
riding slowly in the direction of Nashville. Just before they came
within sight of the town they met a man dressed in a ragged uniform, and
riding a mule that looked as though it had served through two or three
hard campaigns. Marcy recognized him as a poor white of the Kelsey
stamp, and Hawkins told him in a whisper that he was a paroled prisoner
like himself, a friend of his, a member of his company and mess, and
also a Home Guard whom the officers were not afraid to trust. If Marcy
would ride on and leave him alone with the man, he might be able to
obtain some information from him. Marcy was glad to agree to this
programme, and it was duly carried out. He went ahead and waited half an
hour in Nashville, and might have remained a still longer time had he
not seen Hawkins ride a short distance down the road from the first
turn, and then wheel his horse and ride back again out of sight. Taking
this for a signal, Marcy mounted his filly and set out for home; and, as
he expected, found Hawkins in the lonely place in the road where he had
held two interviews with Aleck Webster. He thought the man looked very
sober, but before he could speak of it Hawkins said, in a thrilling
whisper:
"Mister Marcy, you aint safe in this here settlement one hour longer. I
dunno but you had oughter be out of it now."
"What did that friend of yours tell you?" asked the boy, with a
desperate effort to appear calm, although he knew that his face was as
white as it could be.
"He said the Home Guards have got things fixed jest as they want 'em,
and that they are liable to begin operations any time," answered
Hawkins, who looked as uneasy as Marcy felt. "Beardsley won't hear to
nothing but that you must be got rid of the very fust thing. You know
too much to be let loose any longer."
"I know that Beardsley was a smuggler, and believe I could have made
trouble for him by saying that much to Captain Benton; but I did not do
it," replied Marcy. "I hadn't the heart to do it, and neither did I
think he would dare do anything to me so long as the Yankees are so
thick about here."
"There's where you made the biggest kind of a mistake," said the rebel,
in a tone of disgust. "I don't see why you were so easy on him when you
know that he is doing all he can to pester you. My advice to you is to
leave this very night."
"But where shall I go?" cried Marcy. "And how do I know but they will
take some sort of vengeance on my mother if they fail to find me?"
"Beardsley won't do the first thing to her, for mean as the Home Guards
are, there's some among 'em, and one of 'em is talking to you at this
minute, who won't by no means stand by and see him go as far as that.
But if she should see them snake you out'n the house and tote you off to
jail, don't you reckon that would worry her? Your best plan is to light
out while you can."
"But you have not yet told me where to go," Marcy reminded him.
"Put straight to the swamp and find those Union men," replied the rebel.
"There's some of 'em there now."
"But I don't know where to find them. The swamps along the coast cover a
good deal of ground----"
"I know where to find 'em," interrupted Hawkins. "Now, I'll tell you
what to do: you go straight home, pack up any little things you want to
take with you for comfort, and when night comes get into one of your
boats and put straight down the bayou for Middle River. Look out fur
yourself, fur it's likely that the Yankees have posted sentries all
along the river, and if they chuck you into the guard-house, there's no
telling when they will turn you loose. It might put you to some trouble
to prove that you aint a Confederate spy. And when you get into Middle
River t'other side of Plymouth, you will find a friend on the bank who
will tell you what to do."
"Who will he be? What shall I call him?" asked Marcy.
"He will be old man Webster, the father of that sailor who promised to
stand by you through thick and thin, and then went off and 'listed. He's
home now, and as soon as I leave you, I'll ride straight down to his
house and tell him what sort of 'rangement me and you have come to. Oh,
I am all right with the Union men, even if I do wear a gray jacket; and
if they aint afraid to trust me you needn't be."
"I am not afraid to trust you," Marcy hastened to say. "But I don't like
to leave mother. It looks cowardly."
"You want her to have some peace of mind, don't you?" demanded Hawkins,
almost angrily. "Well, she'll see a heap more of it if you will do as I
tell you and clear yourself, than she will if you stay to home. As long
as I am foot-loose, I'll make it my business to go to your house as
often as any of the Home Guards go there, and the first one who don't do
jest right will have to answer to me fur it."
"I thank you for the assurance," began Marcy.
"I aint got no time to hear you talk that a way," exclaimed the rebel.
"What I want to know is whether you are going to foller my advice or
not."
Marcy said very emphatically that he was.
"Cause, if you don't, you are liable to be started on the road to jail
before this time tomorrer," added Hawkins.
"I'll do just as you have told me, and there's my hand on it," replied
Marcy. "You will be sure to arrange matters so that Mr. Webster will
meet me on the river?"
The soldier assured him that he could be depended on to do as he had
agreed, and after another lingering hand-shake they separated, Hawkins
to carry out his part of the programme, and Marcy to take a budget of
most unwelcome news to his mother. But she bore up under it better than
he did. She declared that her heart would be much lighter if she knew
her son was in full possession of his liberty, even though he was
compelled to hide in the swamp for the time being, than it would be if
she were called upon to remember, every hour in the day, that he was
shut up in jail, with a fair prospect before him of being forced into
the Confederate army, and she urged him to carry out Hawkins's
instructions to the very letter. And in order to show him that she meant
he should do that very thing, she began at once to pack his valise. When
she left the room for a few minutes, Marcy, having become satisfied that
Hawkins's plan was the best, and in fact the only one that could be
followed under the circumstances, seated himself at the desk, pulled out
a sheet of foolscap paper, and began writing a short note upon it. While
thus engaged his face wore a most determined expression, and when the
note was finished he put it into his pocket. But he said nothing to his
mother about it.
The hours were a long time in dragging themselves away, but Marcy and
his mother had many small details to arrange and many things to talk
about, and only once was he out of her presence. That was when he made a
trip to the creek, in company with Julius, to select the boat that was
to take him down the river. He raised the black boy very high in his own
estimation by making a confidant of him and promising to take him along
as his servant, and in order to provide against the upsetting of his
plan by some awkward blunder on the part of Julius, he told him just
what he was going to do when darkness came to conceal his movements, and
how he intended to do it. It was well for him that he went to so much
trouble, as we shall presently see.
When the afternoon was about half spent Hanson and his trunk made their
appearance in one of Beardsley's wagons, and Mrs. Gray and Marcy
listened to his story in the kitchen--the only room about the house to
which the man had ever been admitted. And the kitchen wasn't in the
house, but a short distance away from it, and under its own roof. The
overseer made his statement to Mrs. Gray in much the same words that he
had made it to Marcy; and when the lady made a mistake by saying that,
after the experience he had already had with the Union men, she should
think he would be afraid to return to that plantation, the man answered
in tones so insolent and savage that Marcy felt inclined to resent them
on the spot.
"Them villains toted me off onct, Miss Gray, but they won't never do it
again. I know who they were, I've got friends enough around me to hang
every one of 'em, and I'm going to do it before I ever leave this place.
You hear me?"
Those were the words he used, but his manner seemed to say: "I am on
this plantation with the intention of remaining. I came for a purpose,
and you dare not turn me off." Marcy understood that to be his meaning,
and made up his mind that he and Hanson would have a settlement in a
very few days. Mrs. Gray understood him, but she did not give expression
to the fears that came upon her, for she knew that by so doing she would
dishearten her son who, just, then, needed all the encouragement she
could give him.
It began to grow dark about supper time, and Julius came slouching into
the sitting-room as if he had no particular business there, but in
reality to listen to the instructions that Marcy had promised to have
ready for him at that time.
"You will find the guns and things that you are to hide on the floor of
my room," said the boy. "My revolvers, fowling-piece, and a good supply
of ammunition are on my bed; but you must not touch them. They are to go
with us to the swamp. Be as sly as you can, for, if the Home Guards
catch you at the work, they will give you something you never had yet--a
striped shirt."
During the next hour Julius was in and out of the house several times,
and on each occasion he took something away with him; while Marcy and
his mother sat side by side on the sofa trying, as Marcy put it, "to do
talking enough to last them during the separation that was soon to
come." At last Julius moved silently along the hall and appeared at the
door of the sitting-room with a heavy valise in his hand, and a bundle
of quilts and blankets thrown over his shoulder.
"Dis all," he whispered, in his short, jerky way, "an' you best be
gettin' out'n dar. Good-by, missus. Julius gwine run now like ole
Mose."
"You haven't seen or heard anything suspicious, have you?"
"Oh, hursh, honey," was the reply. "If Julius hear sumfin, don't you
reckon he got sense 'nough to tell? You best be gettin' out'n dar 'fore
dey come. Good-by, missus."
"Go ahead with those things, and I will be at the boat by the time you
are," said Marcy.
Julius disappeared, but it was not so easy for his master to follow him
as it was to talk about it. He found it hard to tear himself away, and
lingered long over the parting so long, in fact, that Julius grew tired
of waiting for him. He placed the valise and blankets in the bow of the
boat, made sure for the twentieth time that the little craft was ready
for the start, and then sauntered back to the house to see why Marcy did
not come. But he did not find the coast clear this time. Just as he was
passing through the gate he heard a slight rustling in the bushes that
lined the carriageway on both sides. Without waiting a second to see
what made the noise, the quick-witted darky took to his heels; but,
before he had made half a dozen steps, a man stepped into the
carriage-way in front of him and seized him by the arm. Julius looked
up, and saw that he was in the grasp of Captain Beardsley.
"None of that, you little varmint," said the captain. "You stay here
with me."
As he spoke he tightened his grasp and began dragging his prisoner
toward the concealment from which he had just emerged; whereupon the
black boy set up a yell that could have been heard half a mile away. And
what was more, he kept on yelling until Beardsley clapped his big hand
over his mouth, and put a stop to the performance.