"Oh, a negro, of course," and the Judge picked up his fork and moved
back the wine glass.
"And such dreadful things happen, and such dreadful creatures are
going about," said the grandmother, raising her hand deprecatingly.
"How do you account for it, madam?" I asked. "It was quite different
before the war. I have often heard my father tell of the old days, and
how much the masters did for their slaves, and how loyal their
servants were. I remember one old servant whom we boys called Daddy
Billy, who was really one of the family--quite like your"--and I
nodded toward the Terrapin, who at the moment was pouring a thin
stream of brown sherry into an equally attenuated glass for the
special comfort and sustenance of the last arrival.
"Oh, you mean Mordecai," she interrupted, looking at the Terrapin. "He
has always been one of our family. How long do you think he has lived
with us?"--and she lowered her voice. "Forty-eight years--long before
the war--and we love him dearly. My father gave him to us. No, it is
not the old house servants,--it is these new negroes, born since the
war, that make all the trouble."
"You are right, madam. They are not like Mordecai," and the Judge held
up the thin glass between his eye and the light. "God bless the day
when Mordecai was born! I think this is the Amazon sherry, is it not,
my dear madam?"
"Yes, Mordecai's sherry, as we sometimes call it. It may interest you,
sir, to hear about it," and she turned to me again. "This wine that
the Judge praises so highly was once the pride of my husband's heart,
and when Sherman came through and burned our homes, among the few
things that were saved were sixty-two bottles of this old Amazon
sherry, named after the ship that brought it over. Mordecai buried
them in the woods and never told a single soul for two years
after--not even my husband. There are a few bottles left, and I always
bring one out when we have distinguished guests," and she bowed her
head to the Judge and to me. "Oh, yes, Mordecai has always been one of
our family, and so has his wife, who is almost as old as he is. She is
in the kitchen now, and cooked this luncheon. If these new negroes
would only behave like the old ones we would have no trouble," and a
faint sigh escaped her.
The Terrapin, who during the conversation had disappeared in search of
another hot course for the Judge, had now reappeared, and so the
conversation was carried on in tones too low for his ears.
"And has any effort been made to bring these modern negroes, as you
call them, into closer relation with you all, and"----
"It would be useless," interrupted the Judge. "The old negroes were
held in check by their cabin life and the influence of the 'great
house,' as the planter's home was called. All this has passed away.
This new product has no home and wants none. They live like animals,
and are ready for any crime. Sometimes I think they care neither for
wife, child, nor any family tie. The situation is deplorable, and is
getting worse every day. It is only the strong hand of the law that
now controls these people." His Honor spoke with some positiveness, I
thought, and with some warmth.
"But," I broke in, "if when things became more settled you had begun
by treating them as your friends"--I was getting into shoal water, but
I blundered on, peering into the fog--"and if you had not looked upon
them as an alien race who"----
Just here the siren with the pink waist who sat next me--bless her
sweet face!--blew her conch-shell--she had seen the rocks ahead--and
cried out:--
"Now, grandma, please stop talking about the war!" (The dear lady had
been silent for five minutes.) "We're tired and sick of it, aren't we,
girls? And don't you say another word, Judge. You've got to tell us
some stories."
A rattle of glasses from all the young people was the response, and
the Judge rose, with his hand on his heart and his eyes upraised like
those of a dying saint. He protested gallantly that he hadn't said a
word, and the grandmother insisted with a laugh that she had merely
told me about Mordecai hiding the sherry, while I vowed with much
solemnity that I had not once opened my lips since I sat down, and
called upon the siren in pink to confirm it. To my great surprise she
promptly did, with an arch look of mock reproof in her eye; whereupon,
with an atoning bow to her, I grasped the lever, rang "full speed,"
and thus steamed out into deep water again.
While all this was going on at our end of the table, a running fire of
fun had been kept at the other end, near the young man in the Prince
Albert coat, which soon developed into heavy practice, the Judge with
infinite zest joining in the merriment, exploding one story after
another, each followed by peals of laughter and each better than the
other, his Honor eating his luncheon all the while with great gusto as
he handled the battery.
During all this the Terrapin neglected no detail of his duty, but
served the fifth course to the ladies and the kept-hot courses to the
Judge with equal dexterity, and both at the same time, and all without
spilling a drop or clinking a plate.
When the ladies had withdrawn and we were seated on the veranda
fronting the sleepy old park, each man with a rose in his buttonhole,
the gift of the girl who had sat next him (the grandmother had pinned
the rose she wore at her throat on the lapel of the Judge's coat), and
when the Terrapin had produced a silver tray and was about to fill
some little egg-shell cups from a George-the-Third coffee-pot, the
Judge, who was lying back in a straw chair, a picture of perfect
repose and of peaceful digestion, turned his head slightly toward me
and said,--
"I am sorry, sir, but I shall be obliged to leave you in a few
minutes. I have to sentence a negro by the name of Sam Crouch. When
these ladies can spare you it will give me very great pleasure to have
you come into court and see how we administer justice to this
much-abused and much-misunderstood race," and he smiled significantly
at me.
"What was his crime, Judge?" asked the young man in the Prince Albert
coat, as he held out his cup for Mordecai to fill. "Stealing
chickens?" The gayety of the table was evidently still with him and
upon him.
"No," replied the Judge gravely, and he looked at me, the faintest
gleam of triumph in his eyes. "Murder."