Early at morning, just as the dawn began to pale the sandy bluffs along
the shore, and while the cypress bottoms still lay under the blackness
of night, there came the trampling of horses, the low tones of men, the
sharp, nervous voices of women, and the cries of children untimely
gathered from their trundle-beds. The Major and his wife were ready to
receive this overflow of company. A spliced table was stretched nearly
the full length of the long hall, and a great kettle of coffee was
blubbering on the fire. There were but three negroes on the place, one
man and two women--the others had answered a call at midnight and had
gone away. But the remaining ones were faithful; at a drowsy hour they
left their beds and with no word of complaint took it upon themselves to
execute a new and hurried task. "Bill," said the Major, "I want you and
your wife and Polly to understand that I never forget such faithfulness
as you are now showing, and when I come back--but now is the best time.
Here are ten dollars apiece for you and you must remember that as long
as I live you shall never want for anything."
Fifty men arrived before the east was flushed with the sun. It was
decided that ten of these, including Wash Sanders, should be left to
protect the women and children. The least active were chosen. All but
the younger ones had followed Lee through the dark days of his last
campaign. The Major took command and martial law prevailed. He buckled
on no sword but he looked like a soldier; and short, sharp sentences
that he had forgotten at the close of the war now came back to him.
"Make ready, men. Time passes. Mount."
There were pale faces in the hall and at the gate where the men sat
their horses, ready to ride, but there was bravery and no tears. The
command was drawn up; the Major, not yet mounted, stood talking to Wash
Sanders, when suddenly down the road a chant arose. All eyes were turned
that way, and strange to them was the sight they beheld--the Catholic
priest, with slow and solemn pace, treading the middle of the road,
holding high aloft a black crucifix; and behind him followed the negro
members of his church, men, women and children. He was leading his
people to the hills--out of danger. As the head of this weird procession
came opposite the gate, where now the Major stood with folded arms, the
priest gravely smiled and higher held his crucifix. And then, silently,
and looking neither to the right nor to the left, came out the three
negroes who had remained at home; and taking up the chant they joined
their brothers and sisters. They marched solemnly onward, turned into a
road that led to the hills, the wind hushing their chant, but the black
cross still seen high above their dusky, upturned faces. For full five
minutes the Major stood in silence, gazing, and then hastily mounting,
he shouted: "Forward!" and his troop swept down the road. He chose the
nearest course and it lay by the old house wherein Louise had lived; and
again he heard the wind moaning in the ragged plum thicket.
Along the road the scattered houses were deserted, and in many a cabin
the fire-place was cold, and many a door stood open. Not a negro was
seen--yes, one, an old man drawn with rheumatism, sitting on a bench,
waiting for the sun to warm his joints.
When the Major and his troop rode into the town they found it
quiet--under the weight of a heavy dread. They were looked upon from
windows, where men were posted, waiting; and obeying a shouted
instruction, the Major led his men to a long, low shed not far from the
scene of expected blood-flow, to stable their horses. Following them
came old Billy, the county clerk; and when the horses had been put away,
he came up and thus addressed the Major:
"You are to take command."
"All right. What has been done?"
"Not much of anything. Nothing could be done except to wait."
"How many men have we?"
"It is surprising how few," old Billy answered. "We didn't realize how
weak the white population was until danger came. We have about three
hundred, and more than a thousand negroes are marching on the town. We
held a sort of council this morning and agreed that we'd better post as
many as we can in the court-house. It commands all the streets and
besides we must save the records."
They were now marching toward the court-house. "Where are the women and
children?" the Major inquired.
"In the brick warehouse with a force of men near."
"Well, I suppose you've done all you can. It would be nonsense to engage
them in the open, but with our men posted about the square not more than
two-thirds of them can get action at once. Those poor devils are as well
armed as we and are wrought upon by fanaticism. It is going to be
desperate for a time. At first they'll be furious. Has any one heard of
Mayo?"
"He's at their head and the Frenchman is with him."
"How is the sheriff?"
"Dead."
They filed into the court-house, where a number of men were already
gathered, posted above and below. "Bring an axe and cut loop-holes," the
Major commanded. "When the fight begins you can't very well fire from
the windows. How are you, Uncle Parker?"
"Able to be about, Major. You wan't old enough for the Mexican War, was
you? No, of course not. But I was there and this here fightin' agin such
odds puts me in mind of it."
"Good morning, Major." It was the voice of the County Judge.
"Good morning, sir. I see you have a gun. Don't you think it impolitic?
But pardon me. This is no time for ill-humored banter."
The Judge bowed. "Now I recall John Cranceford, the soldier," said he.
"This is a great pity that has come upon us, Major," he added.
"Worse than that," the Major replied. "It is a curse. The first man who
landed a slave in America ought to have been hanged."
"And what about the men who freed them?"
"They were American soldiers, sir, as brave a body of men as ever trod
the face of the earth. Captain Batts, what are you trying to do there?"
"Thought I'd take a nap," old Gid answered. "You can wake me up when the
fight begins--don't want to miss it."
"If you go to sleep I will court-martial you, sir. Superintend the
cutting of the loop-holes."
"All right, don't believe I'm very sleepy anyway;" and as he shuffled
away the Englishman turned to the Major and asked:
"And is he game, sir?"
"As a lion," the Major answered.
"But he blows, you know," said the Englishman.
"And so does a lion roar, sir," the Major rejoined.
The Major inspected the other posts, to the right and left of the
square, and then took active command of the lower floor of the
court-house; and when the holes had been cut Gid was told to command the
floor above. Tom Cranceford was ordered to serve on the floor above. At
this he began to grumble, pouting that he couldn't be in the rush if one
should come; but the Major stormed at him. "It is more dangerous up
there if that's what you want, and I'll be with you now and then to see
that you are kept busy. March this instant or I'll drive you to home
duty under Wash Sanders."
From the windows and the loop-holes guns could be seen bristling
everywhere, and the minutes that passed were slow and weary with
waiting. Directly across from the court-house was a broad and low brick
store house, with but a single window above, facing the square; and the
Major looking at it for a time, turned to the old clerk and said: "That
building is the strongest one in town, but no men appear to be posted in
it. Why so?"
"The rear wall is torn out and the men would be unprotected from
behind," the clerk answered. "The wall was pulled down about a month
ago. Evans was going to have the house built deeper into the lot so he
could use it as a cotton shed, but hasn't."
"Bad that it was left that way. How long since the last scout came in?"
"About an hour and a half."
"And where was the enemy then?"
"In the neighborhood of Gum Springs."
"That's bad. The militia won't have time to get here."
The Major went above, where he found Gid's men posted at the windows and
the loop-holes. "How is everything?" he asked.
"Lovely, John."
"Don't call me John."
"All is well, Major."
"Good." And after a time he added: "The south road is so crooked that we
don't command it very far, therefore look sharp. Back to your post!" he
stormed as Perdue looked up from his loop-hole. "This is no time for
idleness."
"I wonder what time we eat," said Gid.
"You may never eat another bite," the Major answered.
"Then I don't reckon there's any use to worry about it, John, or Major,
I mean."
The Major returned to the floor below. "This is getting to be quite a
lark," said the Englishman. "It's beastly cruel to fight, but after all
it is rather jolly, you know."
"I'm glad you think so, sir; I can't," the Major replied. "I regard it
as one of the worst calamities that ever befell this country."
"Do you think there will be much pillage by the blacks--much burning of
houses?"
"Possibly, but to sustain their cause their commander will hold them in
some sort of check. He is looking out for the opinion of labor unions,
the scoundrel. He is too sharp to give his war a political cast."
"Ah, but to butcher is a beastly way to look after good opinion. What's
that?" the Englishman cried.
From afar, through the stillness that lay along the south road, came the
popping of rifles; and then all was still. Then came the sounds of
hoofs, and then a riderless horse dashed across the square.
"Steady, men, they are upon us!" the Major shouted, and then all again
was still. From the windows nothing could be seen down the road, and yet
the advance guard must be near, for a gun was fired much closer than
before. Now upon the square a rider dashed, and waving his hat he
cried: "They are coming through the fields!" He dismounted, struck his
horse with his hat to drive him out of danger and ran into the
court-house. The Major met him. "They will be here in no time," the man
said. "But how they got so close without my seeing them is a mystery to
me. But of course I expected to see them in the road and didn't look for
them in the fields. And that ain't all. They've got a cannon."
"What!" the Major exclaimed, and the men at the loop-holes looked back
at him.
"Yes," the scout went on, "and I know all about it. Just before the war
ended an enormous gun was spiked, dismantled and thrown into a well way
down on the Dinkler place. It was got out a good while afterward and the
spike drilled out, and since then it has been used for a Christmas gun.
Well, they've got that thing on an ox wagon, but they've got no way to
fire it for----"
The guns to the right and left of the square blurted out, then came a
roar and a yell, and in an instant the opposite side of the square was
black with negroes pouring out from behind the low brick building. With
a howl and a rush they came, but from three sides volley after volley
was poured into them, the white men using their shot guns. The effect
was terrible, and soon the square was cleared of all but the dead and
the wounded. A cessation fell, and Mayo's voice could be heard,
shouting at his men. He saw that to attempt to take the house by storm
was certain death, so to comparative safety behind the house and into a
deep-cut road a little farther back he withdrew his men. He had not
expected so early to find such opposition, and his aim was to crush with
the senseless weight of force, but the shot-guns were too deadly. Now he
was cool and cautious. The fire from the whites was straggling. Suddenly
out from behind the brick building rushed three black giants, torches in
hand, making desperately for the court-house. It was indeed a forlorn
hope, for one by one they fell, the last, so death-defying was he, that
he fell upon the steps and his torch flew from his hand into the hallway
and crackled on the floor. A man reached out to grasp it, but a
shattered arm was drawn back. "Not you, Major!" cried old Parker.
Outward he leaned, grabbing at the torch, but Mayo's guns swept the
hall. And when they drew the old man back, he brought the snapping pine,
but left his life. They laid him out upon the floor, stood for a moment
sadly to view him; and through a hole a bullet zipped and beside him
fell a neighbor.
"Back to your places!" the Major commanded. Now the guns on the opposite
side of the square were silent. "They are lying low and our men can't
reach them," said the Major. "What are they up to now? Preparing for
another charge?"
"Worse than that," said the man who had seen them in the fields. "They
have hoisted that cannon up into the brick building and are going to
poke it through the window. See there! See that big log up-ended? That's
to brace it. From where I lay I saw them just now breaking up an old
stove out in the lot and they are going to load with the fragments. I
killed two of them, but they got the stove away. Listen, don't you hear
them pounding it up?"
"And this house will afford no more protection that so much paper," said
the Major, speaking low. "We have badly planned our defense. We are ill
protected from bullets, and a cannon will blow us into the air." And
then, moving from one to another, he looked through the loop-holes.
"Train every gun on that window," he commanded, "and shoot if a finger
is seen." Up the stairs he bounded. Old Gid was walking up and down the
room, softly whistling. "Pretty peppery, Major," he said, pointing to
three bodies stretched upon the floor.
"Yes," the Major replied, "and it will be worse. We are doomed."
"How so? Keep on rushing till they wear us out? I reckon not. It would
take five thousand men. God, but look at them lying out there. They were
desperate, but they are toned down."
"They've got a cannon loaded with the fragments of a stove and will
fire it from that window," said the Major.
Gid whistled and resumed his walk. The firing about the square was slow
and steady. From across the way there came no gun shot. "Got a cannon,
eh?" old Gid mused. "I wondered why they were so still," and then to the
Major he said: "They'll shell us out and mow us down at their leisure.
Who built this infernal court-house?"
"I don't remember," the Major answered, "but he ought to be in here now.
Train your guns on that window."
The Major went below. Just as he reached the bottom of the stairway he
leaped forward with a cry. He saw Jim Taylor jump from a window out upon
the square. The Major ran to a loop-hole, pushed a man aside and looked
out. And now there was a belching of guns on the other side. Jim Taylor
caught up a child in his arms, and with bullets pecking up the dirt
about him and zipping against the wall, he dodged behind a corner of the
house. Then he ran across the protected side of the square. Near by, in
the door of a warehouse, a woman stood, shrieking. When she saw the
giant with her little boy in his arms she ran out to meet him, breaking
loose from the hands that strove to hold her, and snatching the little
fellow, she cried: "God bless you for this. I have so many little ones
to see to that he got out and went to look for his grandpa Parker. God
bless you, sir."
The giant had seen old Parker lying dead on the floor, but he said
nothing; he turned about, and entering the court-house from the
protected side, was soon at his post. The Major stormed at him. "You've
lost all your sense," he cried. "You are a bull-calf, sir. Now see that
you don't leave your post again. Did they hit you?" he anxiously asked.
"Don't believe they did," the giant grimly answered.
"Well, they will in a minute. Look there!"
The mouth of the cannon showed above the window, shoved through and now
rested on the ledge; and behind it arose an enormous log. From the
loop-holes in the court-house the gun was raked with buck-shot, but all
the work was done from below and no one stood exposed. Once a hand, like
a black bat, was seen upon the gun, but instantly it flew away, leaving
a blotch of blood. And now the old bell, so quiet all the morning, began
to strike--one, two, ten, thirty--slowly, with dread and solemn pauses.
"Look!" the Major cried. A red-hot poker glowed above the cannon.
Buckshot hailed from a hundred guns, and the poker fell, but soon it
came again and this time flat upon the gun. The hand that held it was
nervous and fumbling. Suddenly the breech of the gun slipped lower down
the upright log. Up went the muzzle, and then came a deafening boom.
There was a crash over-head. The cupola of the court-house was
shattered, and down came the bell upon the roof, and off it rolled and
fell upon the ground with a clang. Out surged Mayo's men, but a fearful
volley met them, and amid loud cries and with stumbling over the dead
and the dying, torn and bleeding, they were driven back. But they set up
a yell when they saw the damage their gun had wrought. They could
foresee the havoc of a better managed fire. Now the yells were hushed.
The Major's men could hear a black Vulcan hammering his iron; then a
lesser noise--they were driving the scraps into the gun.
"It will be worse this time," said the Major. "They have cut a deeper
niche in the log to hold the breech and there'll be no chance of its
slipping. These walls will be shattered like an eggshell. Steady, they
are at it."
Again the gun lay across the window ledge. The red-hot poker bobbed up,
glowing in the dim light, but there was a crash and a rain of shot and
it flew back out of sight; and it must have been hurled through the rear
opening of the wall, for they were a long time in getting it. But it
came again, this time sparkling with white heat. The guns about the
square kept up an incessant fire, but over the powder the poker bobbed,
and then--the whole town shook with the terrific jar, and windows
showered their glass upon the street, and through the smoke a thrilling
sight was seen--the roof of the brick building was blown into splinters
and in the air flew boots, hats and the fragments of men--the gun had
exploded.
"Out and charge!" the Major shouted. "Forward, Captain Batts!" he cried
at the foot of the stairs, and the men came leaping down. The cry was
taken up, and from every building about the square the men were pouring.
Mayo had no time to rally his force; indeed, it was beyond his power,
for his men were panic-smitten. Into the fields and toward the woods
they ran for their lives. It was now a chase. Bang, to right and the
left, and in the fields the fleeing blacks were falling, one by one.
Once or twice they strove to make a stand, but hell snorted in their
faces--and death barked at their heels. In their terror they were swift,
but from afar the rifles sucked their blood. The woods were gained and
now they were better protected in their flight, dodging from tree to
tree; some of them faced about and white men fell, and thus was caution
forced upon the pursuers. So much time was gained that Mayo rallied the
most of his men, but not to stand and fight. He had another plan. In a
small open space, once a cotton patch, stood a large church, built of
logs, and thither he hastened his men, and therein they found a
fortress. The Major called in his scattered forces. They gathered in the
woods about the church.
"Are you going to charge them?" old Gideon asked.
"No, sir, that would be certain death to many of us. Hemmed in as they
now are they'll be deadly desperate. We'll have to manage it some other
way." A shower of buck-shot flew from the church.
"I gad, Major, they've got buck-shot," said Gid. "And they could mow us
down before we could cross that place. They still outnumber us two to
one--packed in there like sardines. Don't you think we'd better scatter
about and peck at 'em when they show an eye? I'd like to know who built
that church. Confound him, he cut out too many windows to suit me."
"Dodge down, men!" cried the Major. "Mr. Low, get back there, sir!"
"Be so kind as to oblige me with the time," said Low. "The rascals have
smashed my watch. Punch a hole in my bath and then ruin my watch, you
know. Most extraordinary impudence, I assure you."
"It is half-past three," said the Major. "And what a day it has been and
it is not done yet."
Jim Taylor came forward. "Look out," said the Major. "They'll get you
the first thing you know. Why don't you pick up a few grains of sense
as you go along?"
"Why don't some one scatter a few grains?"
"Hush, sir. I want no back talk from you."
"But I've got an idea," said the giant, with a broad grin.
"Out with it."
"Why, right over yonder is the Nelson plantation store-house," said Jim,
"and at the front end is the biggest door I ever saw, double oak and so
thickly studded with wrought-iron nails that their broad heads touch.
And my idea is this: Take that door, cut a round hole in the center with
a cold-chisel, cut down a good-sized cypress tree, round off one end,
fit it in the hole, with about five feet sticking through; let a lot of
us strong fellows gather up the tree and, protected by the door, use it
for a battering ram and punch that house down. Then we can work them
freely, as the fellow says."
"Jim," the Major cried, "you are learning something. This day has
developed you. I believe that can be done. At least it is worth trying.
But, men, if it should be effective, let there be as little unnecessary
slaughter as possible. We are compelled to kill--well, we can't help it.
However, take Mayo alive if you possibly can. I want to see him hanged
on the public square. Now get the door. Here, Tom, you and Low cut down
a cypress tree. Here, Lacy, you help. Low doesn't know how to handle an
ax. We'd better begin operations over there on the left. There are fewer
windows on that side. We can batter down the door. No, there is a high
window above the door and they could shoot down upon us. That won't do.
We'll take the left side. See, there are but two windows, both close
together near the end. Look out, boys. Keep behind the trees. I wonder
how solid those logs are. When was that church built, Captain Batts?"
"Don't remember the exact time, but not so very long ago. I recollect
that there was talk of a probable extension, the time that new
revivalist was having the house built, and that must account for the few
windows toward this end on the left. They've got a first-rate place to
shoot from, but what astonishes me is that Mayo should want to make a
stand when he must know that we'll get him sooner or later."
"That's easily explained," said the scout who had dashed upon the public
square. "They are looking for a large body of reinforcements from the
south, and Mayo knows what to expect if he should run, panic-stricken,
into them. His only hope was in making a stand."
"Where is Perdue?" the Major asked, looking about, from one tree to
another.
"He fell back yonder in the field," old Gid answered. "I ran to him,
but he must have been dead by the time he hit the ground."
The Major said nothing. He stood leaning against a tree looking toward
Jim and four other men coming with the heavy door.
"And old Billy," said Gid, "is----"
The Major turned about. "Well," he broke in.
"You know," said Gid, "we used to say that he always had a blot of ink
on his head. But now he's lying back yonder with a spot of blood where
the ink was."
The Major called to Jim: "Put it down there." And then speaking to Gid
he added: "That scoundrel must pay for this. Don't shoot him--don't even
break his legs--I want to see them dangle in front of the court-house
door."
With a chisel and a hammer the giant worked, on his knees, and it was
almost like cutting through solid iron. The echo of his heavy blows
rumbled afar off throughout the timber-land.
The detail of men came with the log, the body of a cypress tree, one end
smoothly rounded. Jim took his measurements and proceeded with his work.
Once he had to drag the door to a better-sheltered spot. Bullets from
the church were pecking up the dirt about him. Three times the piece of
timber was tried, to find that the hole in the door was not quite large
enough, but at last it went through and the giant smiled at the neatness
of the work. And now the ram was ready. The firing from the church had
fallen and all was silent.
"It will take about eight men, four on a side--all strong young
fellows," said Taylor. "You old men stand back. Major, order Captain
Batts to let go the log."
"Captain Batts, turn loose," the Major commanded. "You are too old for
such work."
With a sigh old Gid stepped back, and sadly he looked upon the young men
as they took their places. "Yes, I'm getting old, John, but you needn't
keep telling me of it."
"Sir, didn't I tell you not to call me John?"
"Yes, but I thought you'd forgotten it."
Taylor and the Englishman were side by side, the log between them. Auger
holes had been bored in the shaft and strong oak pins had been driven in
to serve for handles.
"Remember to keep a tight grip on your handle," said Jim.
"I warrant that," the Briton replied. "Are we all ready? Really quite a
lark, you know."
A stable had stood at the left boundary of the field, and one wall, cut
down, was now a part of the fence. Circling about to avoid the
undergrowth and at the same time to keep out of Mayo's range, the men
with the ram came up behind the old wall; and here they were halted to
wait until the Major properly placed his marksmen. He made the circuit
of the field, and coming back, announced that all was ready. A score of
shot-guns were trained upon the two windows that looked out upon the
space between the stable wall and the church. Over the wall the door was
lifted, and the shot-guns roared, for the negroes had opened fire from
the windows, but necessary caution marred the effect of their aim.
Without a mishap the ram was lowered into the field. And now forward it
went, slowly at first, but faster and faster, the men on a run, the
lower edge of the door sweeping the old cotton stalks. Faster, with a
yell, and the men about the field stood ready to charge. Shot-guns
blazed from the windows, and shot like sharp sleet rattled off the heavy
nail-heads in the door. Faster, and with a stunning _bim_ the ram was
driven against the house. But the logs lay firm. Back again, thirty
feet, another run and a ram, but the logs were firm. From the windows,
almost directly in front, the buck-shot poured, and glancing about,
plucked up the dirt like raindrops in a dusty road. Once more, back
still further, and again they drove with head-long force. The house
shook, the roof trembled, but the logs were sound and stubbornly lay in
place. Back again, but this time not to stop. "To the fence," Jim
ordered. A shout came from the church. The Major stamped the ground.
"Keep your places and wait for me," said Jim to his men. He leaped the
stable wall. "Here, young fellow," he called, "run over to that
store-house and bring a can of coal-oil. I was a fool not to think of
this before. Why, even if we were to batter down the house they would
kill us before our men could get there. Where is that axe?"
He seized the axe and began to split a dry pine log. Every one
understood his plan; no one spoke. He split his kindling fine, whittled
off shavings with his knife, and gathering up his faggots waited for the
oil. The young fellow returned, running. Jim snatched the can and sprang
over the fence. The Englishman smiled when he took his place. "Really
you have quite an odd fancy, you know," he said.
"Once more and easy," Jim commanded. "And may the Lord have mercy on
them. But it has to be done."
Onward they went, leaning inward, treading slowly, and shot was sleeted
at them from the windows. But there was no quickening step as the house
was neared--it was a dead march. At a corner of the church they halted,
and Jim, putting down his oil can, close to the wall, piled his faggots
about it, and then, striking a match, set fire to the shavings.
"Back!" he commanded.
They reached the stable wall and stood there. The guns were silent.
Eagerly every one was gazing. Was the fire dying down? One long minute,
and then a dull explosion. A column of flame shot high into the air, a
rain of fire spattered down upon the church, and the roof was ablaze.
The white men, ready with their guns, heard a trampling and the
smothered cries of horror; and then the church door flew open and out
poured Mayo and his men. Three times they charged an opening in the line
about the fence, but unseen foes sprang up and mowed them down. But at
the last, fighting, desperate, yelling, they broke out of the
slaughter-pen and once more were in the woods. And now it was not even a
chase. It was a still-hunt.