A SHORT CHAPTER AND A MISERABLE ONE--THE LESS THAT IS SAID OF IT THE
BETTER.
I had been living in the plantation nearly three months. My little
wife, for such I held her to be, had made much progress in her
education--more in my affection she could not. I had already put her
into joining hand; and I began to be as proud of her dawning intellect
as I was of her person and of her love. I had renounced my country,
and, in good faith, I had intended to have held by her for ever; and,
when I should find myself in a country where marriage with one born in
slavery was looked upon as no opprobrium, I had determined that the
indissoluble ceremony should be legally performed. To do all this I was
in earnest; but, events, or destiny, or by whatever high-sounding term
we may call those occurrences which force us on in a path we wish not to
tread, ruled it fearfully otherwise.
I religiously abstained from looking towards the ship, or even the sea;
yet, I plainly saw, by the alternations of hope, and joy, and fear, on
Josephine's sweet countenance, that something of the most vital
importance was about to take place. They could not conceal from me that
parties of men had been searching for me, because, for a few days, I had
been in actual hiding with Josephine, three or four miles up the woody
mountain. I must hurry over all this: for the recollection of it, even
at this great lapse of time, is agonising. The night before the _Eos_
sailed she would not sleep--her incessant tears, the tremulous energy
with which clasped me and held me for hours, all told the secret that I
wished not to know. All that night she watched, as a mother watches a
departing and first-born child--tearfully--anxiously--but, overcome with
fatigue, and the fierce contention of emotions, as the morning dawned,
her face drooped away from mine, her clasping arms gradually relaxed,
and, murmuring my name with a blessing, she slept. Did she ever sleep
again? May God pardon me, I know not!
I hung over her, and watched her, almost worshipping, until two hours
after sunrise. I blessed her as she lay there in all her tranquil
beauty, fervently, and, instead of my prayers, I repeated over and over
again my oath, that I would never desert her. But some devil, in order
to spread the ashes of bitterness through the long path of my
after-life, suggested to me that now, as the frigate had sailed for some
time, there could be no danger in taking one last look at her; indeed,
the thought of doing so took the shape of a duty.
I stole out of bed, and crept softly round to the front of the house.
The place where the gallant ship had rode at anchor for so many weeks
was vacant--all was still and lonely. I walked on to a higher spot;
and, far distant among the sinuosities of the romantic entrance to the
harbour, my eye caught, for a moment, her receding pennant. I,
therefore, concluded that everything was safe--that I was cut off and
for ever, from my country.
A little qualm of remorse passed through my bosom, and then I was
exceeding glad. The morning was fresh, and the air invigorating, and I
determined to walk down to the beautiful minutely-sanded beach, and
enjoy the refreshment of the sea-breeze just sweeping gently over the
bay. To do this, I had to pass over a shoulder of land to my left. I
gained the beach, and stood upon it for some minutes with folded arms.
This particular walk had been so long debarred to me, that I now enjoyed
it the more. I was upon the point of turning round, and seeking the
nest where I had left my dove sleeping in conscious security, when, to
my horror, I beheld the _Eos'_ pinnace, full-manned and double-banked,
the wave foaming up her cutwater, and roaring under her sixteen oars,
rapidly round the rocky hummock that formed the eastern horn of the
little bay. Her prow soon tore up the sand; and the third-lieutenant, a
master's mate, and the officer of marines, with four privates, leaped
ashore immediately.
For a few moments I was paralysed with terror, and then, suddenly
springing forward, I ran at the top of my speed. I need not say that my
pursuers gave chase heartily. I had no other choice but to run on
straight before me; and that, unfortunately, was up a rocky, rugged side
of a steep hill, that rose directly from the beach, covered with that
abominable vegetable, or shrub, the prickly pear. I was in full view;
and, being hailed and told that I should be fired upon if I did not
bring to, in the space of a short three minutes, before I was out of
breath, I was in the hands of my captors--a prisoner.
I prayed--I knelt--I wept. It was useless. I have scarcely the courage
to write what then took place, it was so fearful--it was so hideous.
Bounding down the hill, in her night-dress, her long black hair
streaming like a meteor behind her, and her naked feet, usually so
exquisitely white, covered with blood, came Josephine, shrieking "Ralph,
Ralph!" Her voice seemed to stab my bosom like an actual knife. Behind
her came running her father, and a number of negro men and women.
Before she could reach me, they had flung me into the stern-sheets of
the boat.
"Shove off! shove off!" shouted the lieutenant; and the boat was
immediately in motion. Like a convicted felon, or a murderer taken in
the fact, I buried my craven head in my knees, and shut my eyes. I
would not have looked back for kingdoms. But I could not, or did not,
think of preventing myself from hearing. The boat had not pulled ten
yards from the beach, when I heard a splash behind us, and simultaneous
cries of horror from the boat's crew and those on shore; among which the
agonised voice of the heartbroken father rose shrilly, as he exclaimed,
"Josephine, my child!" I looked up for a moment, but dared not look
round; and I saw every man in the boat dashing away the tears from his
eyes with one hand, as he reluctantly pulled his oar with the other.
"Give way! give way!" roared the lieutenant, stamping violently against
the grating at his feet. "Give way! or, by God, she'll overtake us!"
The poor girl was swimming after me.
"Rattlin," said Selby, stooping down and whispering in my ear--"Rattlin,
I can't stand it; if it was not as much as my life was worth, I would
put you on shore directly." I could answer him only by a long
convulsive shudder. The horrible torment of those moments!
Then ascended the loud howling curses of the negroes behind us. The
seamen rose up upon their oars, and, with a few violent jerks, the
pinnace shot round the next point of land, and the poor struggler in the
waters was seen no more. Tidings never after came to me of her. I left
her struggling in the waters of the ocean. My first love, and my last--
my only one.
I was taken on board stupefied. I was led up the side like a sick man.
No one reproached me; no one spoke to me. I became physically, as well
as mentally, ill. I went to my hammock with a stern feeling of joy,
hoping soon to be lashed up in it, and find my grave in the deep blue
sea. At first, my only consolation was enacting over and over again all
the happy scenes with Josephine; but, as they invariably terminated in
one dreadful point, this occupation became hateful. I then endeavoured
to blot the whole transaction from my memory--to persuade myself that
the events had not been real--that I had dreamed them--or read them long
ago in some old book. But the mind is not so easily cheated--remorse
not so soon blinded.