"Caught, caught
In thine own trap! Thou hast confessed it all,--
The means, the end, the motive,--laid all Bare!
O, thou poor knave!--and that convenient friend
Who swears or unswears, speaks or holds his peace,
At thy command,--you have conspired together!"
LOVELL.
On board the Chalmetta, Harwell discovered an old acquaintance in the
person of a notorious gambler,--a class of persons who congregate on
Mississippi steamers, and practise their arts upon the unwary traveller.
This person, who went by the name of Vernon, was well known at the faro
and roulette boards in New Orleans. He was an accomplished swindler. In
the winter season, when the city is crowded with the élite of the state,
and with strangers from all parts of the Union, Vernon found abundant
exercise for his professional ability at the hells of the city, in the
employment of their proprietors, acting the part of banker, or anything
else that offered him the means of gratifying his luxurious habits. A
twinge of conscience never prevented him from adopting any means of
emptying the pockets of his victims, even without the formality of dice
or cards.
In the summer season he beguiled his time on the river, or migrated with
the fashionables to Pascagoula, or a more northern watering-place,--in
fine, to any sphere which afforded him a theatre for the exercise of his
talents as a blackleg. Wherever he was, he never passed by an
opportunity to obtain possession of his neighbor's valuables. If the
monied man would accept a hand at euchre or poker, why, he was so much
the easier cleaned out; if not, false keys, pick-locks, or
sleight-of-hand, soon relieved the unfortunate victim of his superfluous
possessions.
Early in his career of fashionable dissipation, Maxwell had made the
acquaintance of this notorious individual. Indeed, he had sufficient
cause to remember him, for he had made a deep inroad into his patrimony.
Maxwell was too great a rascal himself to be long duped by a greater
one. A kind of business intimacy had grown up between them, and
continued to exist at the time of our story. This connection was not,
however, publicly acknowledged by Maxwell; it would have been the ruin
of his fine prospects: but he used him whenever a scheme of profit or
revenge required an unscrupulous confederate. Yet this Vernon was by no
means a dependent creature of Maxwell's, for he was bold, reckless, and
independent to the last degree. Whether acting as the paid devil of
another, or on his own responsibility, he bowed to no power but his own
will. His physical courage was well known to be of the most obstinate
character. When the coward dandy had an enemy to punish, Vernon, for a
hundred dollars, would first insult and then fight the luckless
individual. This had formerly been a lucrative part of his trade; but
latterly his claims to the distinction of _gentleman_ and _man of honor_
had been of such a questionable character, that the man who refused to
meet him did not lose caste among the bloods of the city.
Vernon was now on his way to a wider sphere of action than New Orleans,
with its yellow fever season at hand, afforded him. As usual, he
practised his arts on board the Chalmetta, which, however, afforded him
but a narrow field, the passengers being mostly officers, who had left
their pay in the _cabarets_ of Mexico.
By some means he had ascertained that Henry Carroll was in possession of
a considerable sum of money. By all the arts in his power he had
endeavored to lure him to the gambling-table, which was constantly
spread in the cabin, and surrounded by unfortunate victims, vainly
striving against the coolness and trickery of professional blacklegs, to
recruit their exhausted finances, or retrieve the ruin to which an
unlucky hour had enticed them. Henry obstinately refused to take a hand;
but Vernon's heart was set upon the bag of gold he knew was in Henry's
trunk, and he resolved to possess it,--a feat not easy to accomplish on
board a crowded steamer.
After Maxwell had recovered from the blow which had felled him to the
deck, and while Henry was soothing the distress of Emily, he met Vernon,
who was in the act of reconnoitring the young officer's state-room.
Vernon was just the person to serve him in this extremity. The protector
of Emily must be removed from his charge, as her uncle had been by De
Guy. He resolved upon a consultation with the blackleg. Accordingly he
expressed his desire, to which the gambler replied by requesting him to
give notice of the approach of any one, while he did a little business
in the state-room.
Maxwell vainly remonstrated, but was obliged to comply with the wishes
of the robber, or lose his services.
Vernon, thus protected from intrusion, entered the room, and by the aid
of a pick-lock soon succeeded in obtaining possession of all poor
Henry's earthly wealth. Beckoning Maxwell to follow, he descended to the
main deck, where, procuring a lantern, they proceeded aft.
We must return to Uncle Nathan and Pat Fegan, whom we left on their way
to the fugitive in the hold of the steamer.
"Whisht, now," said Pat, in a whisper, as they prepared to jump down the
hatchway; "whisht, now, and don't spake a loud word, for the life of
yous."
Uncle Nathan promised obedience, and followed Pat into the hold. All was
total darkness, and it was not without a feeling of superstitious dread
that Uncle Nathan heard his companion tap on the box which contained
the mulatto. He heard the whispered recognition of its inmate, and stood
like a statue while Hatchie freed himself from his confinement.
"Whisht, now," said Pat, in a low voice; "give me your hand, Mr. Binson.
Now, there yous are," and he placed Uncle Nathan's hand in that of
Hatchie.
Uncle Nathan found the hand was warm, and felt completely relieved of
the sensation of fear which had come over him.
"Glad to see you," said he, though an instant afterwards his conscience
asked him if he had not told a lie, inasmuch as it was so dark he could
not see anything.
"You are a _friend_, I trust," replied Hatchie, who, although he
implicitly relied on the _faith_ of the Irish ally, had not the fullest
confidence in his judgment. Nothing but what he deemed a stern necessity
would have compelled him to trust the secret with any one. So many
dangers encompassed him, that the duty he owed to his injured mistress
obliged him to look around for the means of preserving the valuable
document he possessed. An accident to the steamer, the continuous danger
of being restored to Jaspar, and a hundred other painful reflections,
brought him to the resolution of depositing the will in the hands of the
most trustworthy person he could find. In this extremity, he canvassed
the characters of all he knew on board. Henry Carroll, he feared, was
too impetuous, if not actually devoted to Jaspar. He knew nothing of the
interesting relation which the hearts of the lovers had
recognized,--pity he did not! Uncle Nathan, whom Pat had described in
glowing colors,--none are more highly esteemed than those who confer the
most solid benefits,--seemed to him the proper person, especially as Pat
had seen _her_ speak to him after the accident. An honest man is so
easily known, that the poor Irishman's instinctive knowledge of human
nature imparted the most correct information.
"I _am_ your friend, and I trust the Lord will always put it into my
heart to befriend the unfortunate," said Uncle Nathan, in answer to
Hatchie's remark.
"It is not on my own account that I need a friend," said Hatchie, in a
melancholy tone, for the responsibility which rested upon him had
solemnized his mind, and banished all reflections of self. "It matters
little what becomes of _me_. But, sir, you are a stranger to me, and I
know not that I may trust you."
"Nor I nuther, till I know what you want of me. If it is an honest
sarvice, one that I can do without goin' agin my conscience, why, I am
ready to do anything to help a feller-cretur."
"The service I am about to request," replied Hatchie, his doubts in a
great measure removed by the apparent sincerity of his auditor, "can be
done honestly; and, if your conscience approves any act, it will approve
this one."
"Very well, I will act for you to the best of my judgment, and use all
the discretion that natur gave me, and a little I larned by the
way-side. Partrick tells me you want to talk with the lady whose life
you saved last night."
"Not exactly to talk _with_ her, but about her. I feel that I can trust
you, even with her destiny. That lady is my mistress. She is an angel of
goodness. I am perfectly willing to be _her_ slave, so that it was not
to gain my freedom I escaped in this box. It was to save her from a
cruel wrong which her uncle would inflict upon her."
"That old gentleman who is with her?" interrupted Uncle Nathan.
"The same. He is the most hardened villain in the world,--so different
from my poor master, who was a good man, and loved even his slaves! This
man would make it appear that my mistress is not the legitimate child of
her father, but the daughter of a quadroon girl, whom he formerly owned.
He has forged a will to obtain his own purposes, and deprived poor
mistress of her natural rights. But, on the night when the villany was
perpetrated, I managed to obtain the true will, and to make my
escape,--and a very narrow escape it was, for I was shot at and obliged
to jump into the river to save my life. They think the shot killed me;
but I shall yet expose their villany--"
"Good gracious, I hope so!" exclaimed Uncle Nathan, whose sympathies
wore awakened by the brief narrative of the mulatto.
"Now, it is scarcely prudent for me to retain possession of this will. I
may be discovered, or drowned, or shot; and then my poor mistress would
never be restored."
"True," replied Uncle Nathan, appreciating his companion's reasoning,
and admiring his warm devotion to his mistress.
"I wish to place the will in the keeping of some trusty person, who will
guard it as his own life,--who will deem no sacrifice too great to
relieve the distressed, and foil the wicked," said Hatchie, earnestly.
"I will do the best I can."
"Before I intrust it to you, I must feel that you will not only be
discreet, but that you will labor to foil this wicked plot."
"I will do everything I can," replied Uncle Nathan, warmly, for his
heart was touched at the wrongs of Emily.
"Then here is the will," said Hatchie, handing him the packet, which he
had taken the precaution to envelop in oil-cloth. "Remember how much
depends upon your caution and fidelity. God forgive me, if I have done
wrong in giving it to you."
"You may depend upon me. I will take good care of the document. But
shan't I say anything to the lady about it?"
"Assure her, if you can without exposing yourself, that the will is
safe. It will give joy to her heart to know that she has the means of
restoration to her home and name."
"I will see everything done about right; and I hope soon to meet you in
the land of liberty."
"I shall never leave my mistress. I have been near her from her birth,
and, though only a slave, I feel that I was sent into the world for no
other purpose than to protect and serve her. Liberty away from her has
no charms for me."
"Goodness!" ejaculated Uncle Nathan; "I never should have thought it!"
Hatchie's devotion to his mistress, so eloquently expressed, jostled
rather rudely the Northerner's prejudices concerning the treatment of
slaves.
The conversation was here interrupted by three taps on the deck above
them, produced by the brogan of Pat Fegan.
Hatchie recognized the preconcerted signal, and, abruptly terminating
his remarks, he leaped into the box, drew on the lid, and left Uncle
Nathan to find his way out as best he could.
"Whisht, now," said Pat, whispering down the hatch. "Jump up, Mr.
Binson!"
Uncle Nathan approached the hatchway, and endeavored to leap out, an
effort which was assisted by Pat, who, rudely seizing him by the collar,
jerked him out with a violence that threatened his bones with
dissolution.
"How the divil did yous tumble in there?" screamed Pat, as two persons
approached. "Are yous hurted?"
"A little," replied Uncle Nathan, perceiving the ruse of his coadjutor.
"I fear yous are. Thry are your legs broke?" continued Pat, whose energy
of utterance gave a fair appearance to the deceit.
"Are you much hurt?" asked one of the persons who had by their presence
disturbed the conference.
"Very little," replied Uncle Nathan, who really felt the uncomfortable
effects of a knock on the knee he had received in his involuntary ascent
from the hold.
"Bad luck to 't, but 'twas a wicked fall!" said Pat, fearful that his
conscientious companion would expose the deceit.
"Can I render you any assistance?" asked one of the intruders, who were
none other than Maxwell and Vernon, whom we left on their way to the
main deck.
"Thank ye, I don't need any," replied Uncle Nathan, hobbling off,
accompanied by Pat.
"Now, is the coast clear?" said Vernon, who carried a lantern he had
borrowed from the mate.
"All clear; but put out that light,--the engineers will notice us,"
replied Maxwell.
"But I can't find my way into the hold without it. There is no danger of
the engineers. They are all asleep on the forward deck."
"What do you want in the hold?" asked Maxwell, in an irritable tone.
"I want to hide this bag of money," replied Vernon, in a whisper. "As
soon as the covey finds he has been picked, they will search the boat;
and my character is not likely to save me from the indignity of being
obliged to open my trunk, and turn out my pockets."
"It is bad business, and I wish you had not done this thing. As I told
you before, _I_ have nothing to do with it. I feel myself rather above
common robbery."
"Self-esteem! But you came down on your own business, not on mine. You
can return, and not trouble yourself any further," growled Vernon.
"I need your help, and will pay you for it."
"Very well, then, wait till _this_ job is finished."
"Go on! I will follow," replied Maxwell, finding remonstrance vain.
After a careful scrutiny of the premises, Vernon concealed his lantern
under his coat, and leaped into the hold, followed by Maxwell.
"Now," said Vernon, "I must put this bag into one of these boxes, to be
guarded by the spirits of the brave men whose bones repose in them."
"Are you mad, man? Would you open the coffins of the dead to hide your
ill-gotten gold?" exclaimed Maxwell, alarmed at the purpose of his
confederate.
"Why not? We need not disturb the bodies,--only open the outside box."
"Very well," said Maxwell, who felt how useless it was to oppose his
companion. "But remember, I have nothing to do with the robbery."
"Of course not, and nothing to do with sharing the proceeds; but sit
down, if you have anything to say to me. We are perfectly safe from
interruption here;" and Vernon seated himself on the box which was
occupied by the mulatto.
"My words need not be many. In the first place, I have been insulted,
and must have satisfaction; and, in the second, there is a girl in the
cabin to whom I am much attached, and she will not give me the smallest
sign of encouragement. Have her I must, by fair means or foul. I would
marry her. You understand?"
"Certainly; but what's the plan?" asked Vernon, indifferently.
"Rather a difficult one, and may require some nerve to execute it,"
replied Maxwell, who proceeded to develop his schemes, both in respect
to Henry Carroll and to Emily.
Although the conspirators spoke in a low tone, Hatchie heard and
understood the whole plot. The voice of Maxwell he recognized, and,
although the name of the lady against whom his designs were meditated
was not mentioned, he comprehended who she was.
The confederated scoundrels having finished their conference, Vernon
drew from his pocket a small screw-driver, and proceeded to remove the
screws from one of the boxes, which, to Hatchie's great relief, was not
the one occupied by himself. After much labor, for the boxes were
carefully constructed, to bear the rough usage of transportation, he
succeeded in removing the lid, and deposited the bag of money between
the coffin and the case which enclosed it.
Having effected the object which brought them to the hold, the two
ascended again, and made their way to the cabin.
In addition to the knowledge of the plot, Hatchie was made acquainted
with a fact which afforded him much pleasure--that Henry Carroll, in
defence of his mistress, had knocked Maxwell down. This was evidence in
his favor. He also heard something of the preference she had bestowed
upon him, and that on this account, more than for the blow, he was to be
the victim of Maxwell's vengeance. But he resolved to foil both schemes.