THE SLAVE HUNT.
Tom Gordon, for the next two or three days after his injury, was about
as comfortable to manage as a wounded hyena. He had a thousand varying
caprices every hour and moment; and now one and now another prevailed.
The miserable girls who were held by him as his particular attendants
were tormented by every species of annoyance which a restless and
passionate man, in his impatience, could devise.
The recent death of Milly's mistress by the cholera had reduced her
under Tom's authority; and she was summoned now from her work every hour
to give directions and advice, which, the minute they were given, were
repudiated with curses.
"I declare," said Aunt Katy, the housekeeper, "if Mas'r Tom isn't 'nough
to use a body off o' der feet. It's jist four times I's got gruel ready
for him dis last two hours--doing all I could to suit him; and he swars
at it, and flings it round real undecent. Why, he's got fever, and does
he spect to make things taste good to him, when he's got fever! Why,
course I can't, and no need of him calling me a devil, and all that!
That ar's very unnecessary, I think. I don't believe in no such! The
Gordons allers used to have some sense to 'em, even if they was cross;
but he an't got a grain. I should think he was 'sessed wid Old Sam, for
my part. Bringing 'sgrace on us all, the way he cuts up! We really don'
know how to hold up our head, none of us. The Gordons have allers been
sich a genteel family! Laws, we didn't know what privileges we had when
we had Miss Nina! Them new girls, dressed up in all their flounces and
ferbuloes! Guess they has to take it!"
In time, however, even in spite of his chafing, and fretfulness, and
contempt of physicians' prescriptions, Tom seemed to recover, by the
same kind of fatality which makes ill-weeds thrive apace. Meanwhile he
employed his leisure hours in laying plans of revenge, to be executed as
soon as he should be able to take to his horse again. Among other
things, he vowed deep vengeance on Abijah Skinflint, who, he said, he
knew _must_ have sold the powder and ammunition to the negroes in the
swamp. This may have been true, or may not; but, in cases of lynch law,
such questions are indifferent matter. A man is accused, condemned, and
judged, at the will of his more powerful neighbor. It was sufficient to
Tom that _he thought so_; and, being sick and cross, thought so just now
with more particular intensity.
Jim Stokes, he knew, cherished an animosity of long standing towards
Abijah, which he could make use of in enlisting him in the cause. One of
the first uses, therefore, which Tom made of his recovered liberty,
after he was able to ride out, was to head a raid on Abijah's shop. The
shop was without ceremony dismantled and plundered; and the mob, having
helped themselves to his whiskey, next amused themselves by tarring and
feathering him; and, having insulted and abused him to their
satisfaction, and exacted a promise from him to leave the state within
three days, they returned home glorious in their own eyes. And the next
week a brilliant account of the affair appeared in the _Trumpet of
Liberty_, headed,--
"SUMMARY JUSTICE."
Nobody pitied Abijah, of course; and, as he would probably have
been quite willing to join in the same sort of treatment for any
one else, we know not that we are particularly concerned for his
doom. The respectable people in the neighborhood first remarked
that they didn't approve of mobs in general, and then dilated, with
visible satisfaction, on this in particular, after a fashion of
that stupid class that are called respectable people, generally.
The foolish mob gloried and exulted, not considering that any day
the same weapons might be turned against them. The mob being now
somewhat drilled and animated, Tom proposed, while their spirit was
up, to get up a hunting in the swamp, which should more fully
satisfy his own private vengeance. There is a sleeping tiger in the
human breast that delights in violence and blood; and this tiger
Tom resolved to unchain.
The act of outlawry had already publicly set up Harry as a mark for
whatever cruelty drunken ingenuity might choose to perpetrate. As our
readers may have a curiosity in this kind of literature, we will indulge
them with a copy of this:--
"_State of North Carolina, Chowan County._
"Whereas, complaint upon oath hath this day been made to us, two of
the Justices of the Peace for the said county and state aforesaid,
by Thomas Gordon, that a certain male slave belonging to him, named
Harry, a carpenter by trade, about thirty-five years old, five feet
four inches high or thereabouts; dark complexion, stout built, blue
eyes, deep sunk in his head, forehead very square, tolerable loud
voice; hath absented himself from his master's service, and is
supposed to be lurking about in the swamp, committing acts of
felony or other misdeeds. These are, therefore, in the name of the
state aforesaid, to command said slave forthwith to surrender
himself, and return home to his said master. And we do hereby, by
virtue of the act of assembly, in such case made and provided,
intimate and declare that if the said slave Harry doth not
surrender himself, and return home immediately after the
publication of these presents, that any person or persons may kill
and destroy the said slave by such means as he or they may think
fit, without accusation or impeachment of any crime or offence for
so doing, and without incurring any penalty or forfeiture thereby.
"Given under our hands and seal,
"JAMES T. MULLER, { SEAL. }
"T. BUTTERCOURT."[3] { SEAL. }
One can scarcely contemplate without pity the condition of a population
which grows up under the influence of such laws and customs as these.
That the lowest brutality and the most fiendish cruelty should be
remorselessly practised by those whose ferocity thus receives the
sanction of the law, cannot be wondered at. Tom Gordon convened at his
house an assemblage of those whom he used as the tools and ministers of
his vengeance. Harry had been secretly hated by them all in his
prosperous days, because, though a slave, he was better dressed, better
educated, and, on the whole, treated with more consideration by the
Gordon family and their guests, than they were; and, at times, he had
had occasion to rebuke some of them for receiving from the slaves goods
taken from the plantation. To be sure, while he was prosperous they were
outwardly subservient to him, as the great man of a great family; but
now he was _down_, as the amiable fashion of the world generally is,
they resolved to make up for their former subservience by redoubled
insolence.
Jim Stokes, in particular, bore Harry a grudge, for having once
expressed himself with indignation concerning the meanness and brutality
of his calling; and he was therefore the more willing to be made use of
on the present occasion. Accordingly, on the morning we speak of, there
was gathered before the door of the mansion at Canema a confused
_mélange_ of men, of that general style of appearance which, in our
times, we call "Border Ruffians,"--half drunken, profane, obscene as the
harpies which descended on the feast of Æneas. Tom Gordon had only this
advantage among them, that superior education and position had given him
the power, when he chose, of assuming the appearance and using the
language of a gentleman. But he had enough of grossness within, to
enable him at will to become as one of them. Tom's arm was still worn in
a sling, but, as lack of energy never was one of his faults, he was
about to take the saddle with his troop. At present they were drawn up
before the door, laughing, swearing, and drinking whiskey, which flowed
in abundance. The dogs--the better-mannered brutes of the two, by all
odds--were struggling in their leashes with impatience and excitement.
Tom Gordon stood forth on the veranda, after the fashion of great
generals of old, who harangued their troops on the eve of battle. Any
one who has read the speeches of the leaders who presided over the
sacking of Lawrence will get an idea of some features in this style of
eloquence, which our pen cannot represent.
"Now, boys," said Tom, "you are getting your names up. You've done some
good work already. You've given that old, snivelling priest a taste of
true orthodox doctrine, that will enlighten him for the future. You've
given that long-nosed Skinflint light enough to see the error of _his_
ways."
A general laugh here arose, and voices repeated,--
"Ah, ah, that we did! Didn't we, though?"
"I reckon you did!" said Tom Gordon. "I reckon he didn't need candles to
see his sins by, that night! Didn't we make a candle of his old
dog-kennel? Didn't he have light to see his way out of the state by? and
didn't we give him a suit to keep him warm on the road? Ah, boys, that
was a warm suit--no mistake! It was a suit that will stick to him, too!
He won't trade that off for rum, in a hurry, I'm thinking! Will he,
boys?"
Bursts of crazy, half-drunken applause here interrupted the orator.
"Pity we hadn't put a match to it!" shouted one.
"Ah, well, boys, you did enough for that time! Wait till you catch these
sneaking varmins in the swamp; you shall do what you like with them.
Nobody shall hinder you, that's law and order. These foxes have troubled
us long enough, stealing at our hen-roosts while we were asleep. We
shall make it hot for them, if we catch them; and we are going to catch
them. There are no two ways about it. This old swamp is like Davy's
coon--it's got _to come down_! And it will come down, boys, when it sees
_us_ coming. No mistake about that! Now, boys, mind, catch him alive, if
you can; but shoot him, if you can't. Remember, I'll give a hundred and
fifty dollars for his head!"
A loud shout chorused this last announcement, and Tom descended in glory
to take his place in his saddle.
Once, we suppose, this history would not have been believed, had it been
told; but of late our own sons and brothers have been hounded and hunted
by just such men, with such means.
The fire which began in the dry tree has spread to the green!
Long live the _great Christianizing Institution_!!!
FOOTNOTE:
[3] The original document from which this is taken can be seen in the
Appendix. It appeared in the _Wilmington Journal_, December 18, 1850.