ZEB.
MERWYN awoke early, and, as soon as he heard the German servant
coming down-stairs, wrote a line to Mr. Vosburgh saying that he
would call on his way to headquarters, and then hastened through the
almost deserted streets to his own home. To his great satisfaction
he found everything unchanged there. After luxuriating in a bath
and a bountiful breakfast he again instructed his man to be on the
watch, and to keep up a fire throughout the coming night, so that
a hot meal might be had speedily at any time.
More than once the thought had crossed his mind: "Unless we make
greater headway with the riot, that attack on Mr. Vosburgh's house
will be repeated. Vengeance alone would now prompt the act, and
besides he is undoubtedly a marked man. There's no telling what may
happen. Our best course is to fight, fight, knock the wretches on
the head. With the quelling of the mob comes safety;" and, remembering
the danger that threatened Marian, he was in a savage mood.
On this occasion, he went directly to Mr. Vosburgh's residence,
resolving to take no risks out of the line of duty. His first thought
now was the securing of Marian's safety. He had learned that there
was no longer any special need for personal effort on his part to
gain information, since the police authorities had wires stretching
to almost every part of the city. An account of the risks taken
to keep up this telegraphic communication would make a strange,
thrilling chapter in itself. Moreover, police detectives were busy
everywhere, and Mr. Vosburgh at headquarters and with the aid of his
own agents could now obtain all the knowledge essential. Therefore
the young fellow's plan was simple, and he indicated his course at
once after a cordial greeting from Mr. Vosburgh and Marian.
"Hard fighting appears to me to be the way to safety," said he. "I
can scarcely believe that the rioters will endure more than another
day of such punishment as they received yesterday. Indeed, I should
not be surprised if to-day was comparatively quiet."
"I agree with you," said Mr. Vosburgh, "unless the signals I saw
last night indicate a more general uprising than has yet taken
place. The best elements of the city are arming and organizing.
There is a deep and terrible anger rising against the mob and all
its abettors and sympathizers."
"I know it," cried Merwyn; "I feel it myself. When I think of the
danger which threatened your home and especially Miss Vosburgh, I
feel an almost ungovernable desire to be at the wretches."
"But that means greater peril for you," faltered the young girl.
"No, it means the shortest road to safety for us all. A mob is like
fire: it must be stamped out of existence as soon as possible."
"I think Merwyn is right," resumed Mr. Vosburgh. "Another day
of successful fighting will carry us to safety, for the general
government is moving rapidly in our behalf, and our militia regiments
are on their way home. I'll be ready to go to headquarters with
you in a minute."
"Oh, please do not be rash to-day. If you had fallen yesterday
think what might have happened," said Marian.
"Every blow I strike to-day, Miss Vosburgh, will be nerved by the
thought that you have one enemy, one danger, the less; and I shall
esteem it the greatest of privileges if I can remain here to-night
again as one of your protectors."
"I cannot tell you what a sense of security your presence gives
me," she replied. "You seem to know just what to do and how to do
it."
"Well," he answered, with a grim laugh, "one learns fast in these
times. A very stern necessity is the mother of invention."
"Yes," sighed the girl, "one learns fast. Now that I have seen war,
it is no longer a glorious thing, but full of unspeakable horrors."
"This is not war," said Merwyn, a little bitterly. "I pity, while
I detest, the poor wretches we knock on the head. Your friends,
who have fought the elite of the South will raise their eyebrows
if they hear us call this war."
"I have but one friend who has faced a mob alone," she replied,
with a swift, shy glance.
"A friend whom that privilege made the most fortunate of men," he
replied. "Had the rioters been Southern soldiers, they would have
shot me instantly, instead of running away."
"All my friends soon learn that I am stubborn in my opinions," was
her laughing reply, as her father joined them.
Mr. Erkmann on the next street north was a sturdy, loyal man, and
he permitted Mr. Vosburgh and Merwyn to pass out through his house,
so that to any one who was watching the impression would be given
that at least two men were in the house. Burdened with a sense of
danger, Mr. Vosburgh had resolved on brief absences, believing that
at headquarters and through his agents he could learn the general
drift of events.
Broadway wore the aspect of an early Sunday morning in quiet times.
Pedestrians were few, and the stages had ceased running. The iron
shutters of the great Fifth Avenue and other hotels were securely
fastened. No street cars jingled along the side avenues; shops
were closed; and the paralysis of business was almost complete in
its greatest centres. At police headquarters, however, the most
intense activity prevailed. Here were gathered the greater part
of the police force and of the military co-operating with it The
neighboring African church was turned into a barrack. Acton occupied
other buildings, with or without the consent of the owners.
The top floor of the police building was thronged with colored
refugees, thankful indeed to have found a place of safety, but many
were consumed with anxiety on account of absent ones.
The sanguine hopes for a more quiet day were not fulfilled, but the
severest fighting was done by the military, and cavalry now began
to take part in the conflict. On the west side, Seventh Avenue was
swept again and again with grape and canister before the mob gave
way. On the east side there were several battles, and in one of
them, fought just before night, the troops were compelled to retreat,
leaving some of their dead and wounded in the streets. General
Brown sent Captain Putnam with one hundred and fifty regulars
to the scene of disaster and continued violence, and a sanguinary
conflict ensued between ten and eleven o'clock at night. Putnam
swept the dimly lighted streets with his cannon, and when the
rioters fled into the houses he opened such a terrible fire upon
them as to subdue all resistance. The mob was at last learning that
the authorities would neither yield nor scruple to make use of any
means in the conflict.
In the great centres down town, things were comparatively quiet.
The New York Times took matters into its own hands. A glare of
light from the windows of its building was shed after night-fall
over Printing-House Square, and editors and reporters had their
rifles as readily within reach as their pens.
We shall not follow Merwyn's adventures, for that would involve
something like a repetition of scenes already described. As the
day was closing, however, he took part in an affair which explained
the mystery of Mammy Borden's disappearance.
During the first day of the riot the colored woman had seen enough
to realize her own danger and that of her son, and she was determined
to reach him and share his fate, whatever it might be. She had
no scruple in stealing away from Mr. Vosburgh's house, for by her
departure she removed a great peril from her employers and friends.
She was sufficiently composed, however, to put on a heavy veil and
gloves, and so reached her son in safety. Until the evening of the
third day of the riot, the dwelling in which they cowered escaped
the fury of the mob, although occupied by several colored families.
At last the hydra-headed monster fixed one of its baleful eyes
upon the spot. Just as the occupants of the house were beginning
to hope, the remorseless wretches came, and the spirit of Tophet
broke loose. The door was broken in with axes, and savage men streamed
into the dwelling. The poor victims tried to barricade themselves
in the basement, but their assailants cut the water-pipes and would
have drowned them. Driven out by this danger, the hunted creatures
sought to escape through the yard. As Zeb was lifting his mother
over the fence the rioters came upon her and dragged her back.
"Kill me, kill me," cried Zeb, "but spare my mother."
They seemed to take him at his word. Two of the fiends held his
arms, while another struck him senseless and apparently dead with
a crowbar. Then, not accepting this heroic self-sacrifice, they
began to beat the grief-frenzied mother. But retribution was at
hand. The cries of the victims and the absorption of the rioters
in their brutal work prevented them from hearing the swift, heavy
tread of the police. A moment later Merwyn and others rushed through
the hallway, and the ruffians received blows similar to the one
which had apparently bereft poor Zeb of life. The rioters were
either dispersed or left where they fell, a wagon was impressed,
and Zeb and his mother were brought to headquarters. Merwyn had soon
recognized Mrs. Borden, but she could not be comforted. Obtaining
leave of absence, the young man waited until the evening grew
dusky; then securing a hack from a stable near headquarters, the
proprietor of which was disposed to loyalty by reason of his numerous
blue-coated neighbors, he took the poor woman and the scarcely
breathing man to a hospital, and left money for their needs. The
curtains of the carriage had been closely drawn; but if the crowds
through which they sometimes passed had guessed its occupants,
they would have instantly met a tragic fate, while Merwyn's and
the driver's chances would have been scarcely better.