THE HOME OF JUDGE BEAUCAIRE
The road we followed appeared to be endless, and so rough that I soon
climbed down from my seat, an unplaned board, uncomfortable enough
under any conditions, in the swaying, bumping cart, and stumbled
blindly along behind, tripping over stumps in the darkness, and
wrenching my ankles painfully in deep ruts. Progress was slow, not
only because of the difficulties of the passage, but equally on account
of the obstinacy of the mule. Indeed, it required no small diplomacy
on the part of the negro to induce the animal to proceed at all, and
finally, despairing of the efficiency of words, he drew a club,
evidently reserved for such emergencies, from the interior of the cart,
and gave utterance to an ultimatum. Following this display of force
our advance became a trifle more rapid.
I endeavored to think, to plan more definitely my course upon arriving
at the Beaucaire plantation, but discovered it quite impossible to
concentrate my mind upon anything. My entire attention had to be
riveted on the intricacies of the road, which wound in and out among
the bluffs, down one gully and up another, until I finally lost all
sense of direction, and merely stumbled on after the dark outlines of
the cart, through a black cave formed by the branches of over-arching
trees.
It was considerably after ten o'clock when we emerged upon an open
plateau, and a glimmer of stars overhead revealed to me afar off the
silver thread of the great river. Even in that dim light I could trace
its winding course along the valley, and the view by daylight from this
point must have been a delight to the eye. Pete stopped the straining
mule, a feat not at all difficult of accomplishment, the animal's sides
rising and falling as he wheezed for breath, and came back to where I
stood, staring about at the dimly perceived objects in the foreground.
"Out dar am de Beaucaire place," he announced, as soon as he could
distinguish my presence, waving his arm to indicate the direction.
"An' I reckon we bettah not ride no further, fer if Alick shud smell
corn, he'd nat'larly raise dis whol' neighborhood--he's got a powerful
voice, sah."
"Equal to his appetite no doubt."
"Yas, sah; that's mostly whut Alick am."
"How far away is the house?"
"Likely 'bout a hundred yards. Yer see dat light out yonder; well
dat's it, an' I reckon de ladies mus' be up yet, keepin' de lamp
burnin'. Here's de slave cabins 'long de edge ob de woods, but dey's
all dark. What's yer a goin' fer ter do now, Massa Knox?"
I was conscious that my heart was beating rapidly, and that my mind was
anything but clear. The problem fronting me did not appear so easily
solved, now that I was fairly up against it, and yet there seemed only
one natural method of procedure. I must go at my unpleasant task
boldly, and in this case only the truth would serve. I was an officer
in the United States Army, and had in my pocket papers to prove my
identity. These would vouch for me as a gentleman, and yield me a
measure of authority. And this fact, once established, ought to give
me sufficient standing in the eyes of those girls to compel from them a
respectful hearing. I would tell the story exactly as I knew it,
concealing nothing, and adding no unnecessary word, outline my plan of
action, and then leave them to decide what they thought best to do.
This was the simple, sensible way, and I had implicit faith that they
would accept my statement, and believe my offer of assistance an honest
one. I could not perceive how they could do otherwise. Strange,
unbelievable as the situation was, proof was not lacking. Delia could
be compelled to acknowledge that Rene was her child--she would scarcely
dare deny this truth in face of my positive knowledge--and she, at
least, must know that Judge Beaucaire had never during his lifetime
given her her freedom. This fact could be established beyond question,
and then they must surely all comprehend the necessity of immediate
flight--that there remained no other possible means of escape from
hopeless slavery. Desperate as the chance appeared, it was the only
one.
It was a disagreeable, heart-rending task which I had taken upon
myself, but it could be no longer avoided. It dawned upon me now with
more intense force than ever before the position in which I stood, and
I shrank from the ordeal. A perfect stranger, not even a chance
acquaintance of those directly involved in this tragedy, I would have
to drag out from the closet, where it had been hidden away for years,
this old Beaucaire skeleton, and rattle the dried bones of dishonor
before the horrified understanding of these two innocent, unsuspecting
girls. I knew nothing of their characters, or of how they would meet
such a revelation, and yet they must be made to see, and thoroughly
comprehend the situation; must be compelled to face the horror and
disgrace of their position, and aroused to action. I had little
thought then for the slave mother; doubtless she had been expecting
some such exposure for years, and was, at least, partially steeled to
meet it. But for the two girls, brought up as sisters, close
companions since infancy, having no previous suspicion of the dreadful
truth, this sudden revelation would be worse than death. Yet now
concealment would be no kindness; indeed, the tenderest mercy I could
show was to tell them in all frankness the whole miserable story of
crime and neglect; and then point out to them the only remaining means
of escape from the consequence of others' sins.
These thoughts, definite and compelling, flashed through my mind as I
stood there in the darkness, vainly seeking to distinguish the distant
outlines of the great house, from one window alone of which the glow of
light streamed. In that moment of decision the conviction came to me
that I had best do this alone; that the presence of the negro would
hinder, rather than help the solution of the problem. I must appeal
directly to the intelligence, the courage, of those so deeply involved,
and trust my own personality to win their confidence. In this the
negro would be useless.
"Pete," I said, measuring my words, my plan of action shaping itself
even as I spoke. "What lies in there between us and the house?"
"A truck patch mostly, wid a fence 'round it. Den thar comes som'
flower beds."
"No path?"
"Well, I done reckon as how thar might be a sorter path, sah, but you'd
hardly find it in de dark. De bes' way'd be ter sorter feel 'long de
fence, 'til yer git sight o' de front porch."
"All right, then. I am going to leave you here while I scout around.
Keep your eyes open, and have the mule ready to leave at any minute."
"'Bout how lon' yer be gone, sah?"
"I cannot tell you that. As short a time as possible. It may require
considerable explanation and urging to get those three women to trust
me. However, all you have to do is wait, and be sure that no one sees
you. If you should be needed for anything at the house, I'll get word
to you some way; and if I should send Delia and Rene out here alone,
without being able to come with them myself, load them into the cart at
once, and drive to the boat. I'll manage to join you somewhere, and
the important thing is to get them safely away. You understand all
this?"
"Yas, sah; leastways I reckon I does. I'se ter take keer ob dem all,
an' let yer take keer o' yerself."
"Exactly, because, you see, I haven't the slightest idea what I am
going to run up against. There may be others in the house, and I might
not dare to leave Miss Eloise behind alone without some protection. In
a way she is in almost as much danger as the others if she falls into
Kirby's hands. I shall endeavor to induce her to go to Haines at once."
Following some impulse I shook hands with him, and then plunged into
the darkness, my only guidance at first that single ray of light
streaming through the unshaded window. The ground underfoot was
roughly irregular, cleared forest land evidently, as I occasionally
stumbled over an unremoved stump, although there was nothing to
seriously obstruct my passage until I reached the fence surrounding the
garden. By this time the outlines of the house were plainly visible
against the skyline beyond, and I realized that it was indeed quite a
mansion for that country, a great square frame structure, two full
stories in height, appearing black and deserted, except for that single
window through which the light continued to stream. While this window
was upon the lower floor, directly opposite where I stood, and no great
distance away, it was still sufficiently elevated above the ground, and
obscured by a small outside balcony, so as to afford me no glimpse
within. All I could distinguish clearly was the ceiling of what
appeared to be a rather large apartment.
As I advanced cautiously along the fence, a low structure built of
rough rails, and thus approached more closely to the front of the main
building, other lights began to reveal themselves, enabling me to
perceive that the inner hallway was likewise illuminated, although not
brilliantly. These dim lights proved sufficient, however, to unable me
to trace the general form of the broad veranda in front, with its high
roof upheld by pillars of wood--doubtless giant forest trees--and also
the wide wooden steps leading down to a circling carriage drive. In
spite of previous descriptions I had scarcely anticipated encountering
so fine a home in this land which to me was wilderness. The contrast
of what life had undoubtedly been to its inmates, and what it would now
become through the medium of this unwelcome message I bore, struck me
with new force. My mission became instantly a hateful thing, yet I
only set my lips tighter, determined to end it as quickly as possible.
By groping about with my feet I succeeded in discovering the path of
which Pete had spoken, and managed with difficulty to follow it slowly.
Winding in and out amid shrubbery, and what may have been reserved for
flower beds, this ended at a side door, which was locked. Discovering
this fact, and that it resisted all efforts at opening, I turned once
more toward the front, and advanced in that direction, securely hidden
by the dense shadow of the house. All about me was silence, not even
the sound of a voice or the flap of a wing breaking the intense
stillness of the night. I almost imagined I heard the murmur of the
distant river, but this was probably the night breeze sighing through
the tree branches. I came below the veranda, still in the deep shadow,
utterly unconscious of any other presence, when suddenly, from just
above me, and certainly not six feet distant, a man spoke gruffly, the
unexpected sound of his strange voice interrupted by the sharp grate of
a chair's leg on the porch floor, and a half-smothered yawn.
"Say, Sheriff, how long are we all goin' ter set yere, do yer know?
This don't look much like Saint Louee afore daylight ter me."
I stopped still, crouching low, my heart leaping into my throat, and
every nerve tingling.
"No, it sure don't, Tim," replied another, and the fellow apparently
got down from off his perch on the porch rail. "Yer see Kirby is bound
he'll get hold o' them two missin' females furst, afore he'll let me
round up the niggers."
"But yer told him yer wouldn't round the niggers up, an' stow 'em away
in the boat."
"Not till I get service on the young lady. It wouldn't do no good."
"Whut's the idee?"
"Damned if I know exactly. All I know is whut I kin do accordin' ter
law, an' whut I can't. The papers is all straight 'nough, but they've
got ter be served afore we kin lay hands on a damned thing. The Jedge
tol' me fer ter do everything just as Kirby sed, an' I aim ter do it,
but just the same I got ter keep inside the law. I reckon thar's a
hitch sumwhar', but thet's none o' my business. Kirby is liberal
'nough with his money, an' I dunno as it makes much difference when we
strike the ol' town."
"'Tain't so much that, Sheriff. I kin stan' it fer ter be up all
night, but Bill wus tellin' me we might hav' som' trouble down ter the
Landin' unless we finished up our job yere afore mornin'."
"Oh, I reckon not; whut was it Bill said?"
"Quite a rigmarole frum furst ter last. Giv' me a light fer the pipe,
will yer?"
There was a flare above me, and then darkness once more, and then the
slow drawl of the man's voice as he resumed. "Some feller by the name
ov McAdoo, down ter Saint Louee, who's just com' down frum the lead
mines, tol' him thet Joe Kirby got all this yere property in a game o'
kyards on the boat, an' thet it wan't no square game either. I didn't
git it all straight, I reckon, but accordin' ter the deal handed me
thar wus two dead men mixed up in the affair--Beaucaire, an' a young
army offercer. Seems ter me his name wus Knox."
"I didn't hear that."
"Well, enyhow, that's the way Bill told it. Beaucaire he naturally
fell dead--heart, er som'thin'--an' the other feller, this yere army
man, he went out on deck fer ter see Kirby, an' he never cum' back.
McAdoo sorter reckoned as how likely he wus slugged, an' throwed
overboard. An' then, on top' all that, we're sent up yere in the night
like a passel o' thieves ter take these niggers down ter Saint Louee.
What do yer make ov it, Jake?"
"Wal," said the other slowly, his mouth evidently loaded with tobacco,
"I ain't never asked no questions since I wus made sheriff. I'm doin'
whut the court says. Hell! thar's trouble 'nough in this job without
my buttin' in on other people's business. But this is how it stacks up
ter me. Kirby's got the law on his side--no doubt 'bout that--but I
reckon as how he knows it wus a damn mean trick, and so he's sorter
skeered as ter how them fellers livin' down ter the Landin' might act.
Thar's a lawyer thar named Haines, as sharp as a steel trap, who tended
ter all the ol' Jedge's business, an' Joe he don't wanter run foul o'
him. Thet's why we tied up ter the shore below town, in the mouth o'
thet crick, an' then hed ter hoof it up yere in the dark. Of course we
got the law with us, but we wanter pull this job off an' not stir up no
fight--see?"
"Sure," disgustedly. "I reckon I know all that; I heerd the Jedge tell
yer how we wus ter do the job. But why's Kirby in such a sweat ter git
all these niggers down ter Saint Louee?"
"Ter sell 'em, an' git the cash. Onct they're outer the way there
won't be no row. He'll let the land yere lie idle fer a year or two,
an' by that time nobody'll care a whoop how he got it. But he's got
ter git rid o' them niggers right away."
"Well, who the hell's goin' ter prevent? They're his'n, ain't they?
Thar ain't no Black Abolitionists 'round yere, I reckon. I never
know'd yer had ter run off your own niggers in the night, so's ter sell
'em down South. My Gawd, is this yere Mussury!"
"Seems sorter queer ter me," admitted the sheriff, "but I did get a
little outer that feller Carver comin' up. He's a close-mouthed cuss,
an' didn't say much, but puttin' it with what yer just told me, I
reckon I kin sorter figger it out. Carver is som' sorter partner with
Kirby--a capper I reckon--an' enyhow he had a hand in that kayrd game.
'Tain't the niggers thet are makin' the trouble--leastways not the
black 'uns. Nobody's likely ter row over them. It seems that
Beaucaire kept a quadroon housekeeper, a slave, o' course, an' a while
back she giv' birth ter a child, the father o' the infant bein' Judge
Beaucaire's son. Then the son skipped out, an' ain't ever bin heard
frum since--dead most likely, fer all this wus twenty years ago.
'Course the child, which wus a girl, is as white as I am--maybe more
so. I ain't never set eyes on her, but Carver he says she's damn good
lookin'. Enyhow the Jedge he brought her up like his own daughter,
sent her ter school in Saint Louee, an' nobody 'round yere even
suspected she wus a nigger. I reckon she didn't know it herself."
"The hell you say."
"Yes, but that ain't all o' it. I don't know how it happened--maybe he
forgot, er put it off too long, er aimed ter git revenge--but, it
seems, he never executed no paper freein' either her or her mother."
"Yer mean the girl's still a slave?"
"Yer bet! That's the law, ain't it?"
"And Kirby knew about this?"
"I reckon he did. I sorter judge, Tim, frum whut Carver sed, that he
wus more anxious fer ter git thet girl than all the rest o' the stuff;
an' it's her he wants ter git away frum yere on the dead quiet, afore
Haines er any o' them others down at the Landin' kin catch on."
"They couldn't do nuthin'; if thar ain't no papers, then she's his,
accordin' ter law. I've seen that tried afore now."
"Of course; but what's the use o' runnin' eny risk? A smart lawyer
like Haines could make a hell ov a lot o' trouble just the same, if he
took a notion. That's Kirby's idee--ter cum' up yere in a boat,
unbeknownst to enybody, tie up down thar at Saunders', an' run the
whole bunch o' niggers off in the night. Then it's done an' over with
afore the Landin' even wakes up. I reckon the Jedge told him that wus
the best way."
There was a moment of silence, the first man evidently turning the
situation over in his mind. The sheriff bent across the rail, and spat
into the darkness below.
"The joke of it all is," he continued, with a short laugh, as he
straightened up, "this didn't exactly work out 'cordin' ter schedule.
When we dropped in yere we rounded up the niggers all right, an' we got
the girl whar there's no chance fer her ter git away--"
"Is that the one back in the house?"
"I reckon so; leastways she tol' Kirby her name was Rene Beaucaire, an'
that's how it reads in the papers. But thar ain't no trace ov her
mother, ner ov the Jedge's daughter. They ain't in the house, ner the
nigger cabins. Whar the hell they've gone, I don't know, an' the girl
won't tell. Leaves me in a deuce ov a fix, fer I can't serve no papers
less we find the daughter. Her name's Eloise; she's the heir et law,
an' I ain't got no legal right fer ter take them niggers away till I
do. Looks ter me like they'd skipped out."
"Maybe som'body blowed the whole thing."
"I dunno who it wud be. Then whut did they leave thet girl behind fer?
She'd most likely be the furst ter run--thar's Kirby an' Carver, a
comin' now, an' they're alone; ain't got no trace ov 'em, I reckon."
Where I crouched in the shadows I could gain no glimpse of the
approaching figures, but I heard the crunch of their boots on the
gravel of the driveway, and a moment later the sound of their feet as
they mounted the wooden steps. Kirby must have perceived the forms of
the other men as soon as he attained the porch level, and his naturally
disagreeable voice had a snarly ring.
"That you, Donaldson? Have either of those women come back?"
"No," and I thought the sheriff's answer was barely cordial. "We ain't
seen nobody. What did you learn down at the Landin'?"
"Nothing," savagely. "Haven't found a damn trace, except that Haines
hasn't been home since before dark; some nigger came for him then. Is
that girl safe inside?"
"Sure; just as you left her, but she won't talk. Tim tried her again,
but it's no use; she wudn't even answer him."
"Well, by God! I'll find a way to make her open her mouth. She knows
where those two are hiding. They haven't had no time to get far away,
and I'll bring her to her senses before I am through. Come on, Carver;
I'll show the wench who's master here, if I have to lick her like a
common nigger."
The front door opened, and closed, leaving the two without standing in
silence, the stillness between them finally broken by a muttered curse.