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"_Princes shall come out of Egypt; Ethiopia shall
soon stretch out her hands unto God._"
THE
HINDERED HAND:
OR,
THE REIGN OF THE
REPRESSIONIST.
BY
SUTTON E. GRIGGS.
THIRD EDITION--REVISED.
AMS PRESS
NEW YORK
Reprinted from a copy in the New York Public Library
Schomburg Collection
From the edition of 1905, Nashville
First AMS EDITION published 1969
Manufactured in the United States of America
Library of Congress Catalogue Card Number: 77-100533
AMS PRESS, INC.
New York, N.Y. 10003
_DEDICATION._
_To a devoted father, of rugged strength of character,
and, withal, pre-eminently a man
of peace, and to a loving mother,
ever tender and serene of soul--
To these twin moulders of the hearthside, who
have ever been anxious that their children
should contribute naught but what is
good to the world, this volume is
most affectionately dedicated
by their son,_
_THE AUTHOR._
SOLEMNLY ATTESTED.
Upon a matter of such tremendous importance to the American people as is
the subject herein treated, it is perhaps due our readers to let them
know how much of fact disports itself through these pages in the garb of
fiction.
We beg to say that in no part of the book has the author consciously
done violence to conditions as he has been permitted to view them, amid
which conditions he has spent his whole life, up to the present hour, as
an intensely absorbed observer.
If in any of these pages the reader comes across that which puts him in
a mood to chide, may the author not hope that the wrath aroused be not
wasted upon the inconsequential painter, but directed toward the
landscape that forced the brush into his hand, stretched the canvas, and
shouted in irresistible tones: "Write!"
Very respectfully,
SUTTON E. GRIGGS.
Nashville, Tenn., May, 1905.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
BY ROBERT E. BELL.
Pages.
"The young woman looked into his face" 20-21
"Her pretty brown eyes nestling" 24-25
"Name me as I was named" 40-41
"The rock battle was now on" 54-55
"What do they take me to be" 86-87
"Yer air jes' a plain, orternary liah" 114-115
"Poor Bud, her helpless husband" 134-135
"To and fro the two men swayed" 164-165
"Is it a crime for me?" 174-175
"I have tellerphoned 'round the world" 184-185
"She made a flag of truce" 188-189
"Don't circumscribe the able, noble souls" 234-235
"We machine men in the South" 258-259
"Ensal bent forward and kissed Tiara" 290-291
CONTENTS.
PAGE.
CHAPTER I.
OCCURRENCES THAT PUZZLE 11
CHAPTER II.
HIS FACE WAS HER GUIDE 19
CHAPTER III.
WHEREIN FORESTA FIRST APPEARS 24
CHAPTER IV.
THE WAYS OF A SEEKER AFTER FAME 30
CHAPTER V.
RATHER LATE IN LIFE TO BE STILL NAMELESS 36
CHAPTER VI.
FRIENDLY ENEMIES 46
CHAPTER VII.
OFFICERS OF THE LAW 53
CHAPTER VIII.
A MESSENGER THAT HESITATES 62
CHAPTER IX.
A PLOTTER IS HE 67
CHAPTER X.
ARABELLE SEABRIGHT 72
CHAPTER XI.
UNUSUAL FOR A MAN 77
CHAPTER XII.
A HONEYMOON OUT OF THE USUAL ORDER 82
CHAPTER XIII.
SHREWD MRS. CRAWFORD 88
CHAPTER XIV.
ALENE AND RAMON 94
CHAPTER XV.
UNEXPECTED DEVELOPMENTS 99
CHAPTER XVI.
AN EAGER SEARCHER 108
CHAPTER XVII.
PECULIAR DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS 113
CHAPTER XVIII.
MISTS THAT VANISH 117
CHAPTER XIX.
THE FUGITIVES FLEE AGAIN 122
CHAPTER XX.
THE BLAZE 129
CHAPTER XXI.
PLANNING TO ACT 138
CHAPTER XXII.
THE TWO PATHWAYS 142
CHAPTER XXIII.
THEY GRAPPLE 162
CHAPTER XXIV.
OUT OF JOINT WITH HIS TIMES 167
CHAPTER XXV.
A JOYFUL FAREWELL 178
CHAPTER XXVI.
GUS MARTIN 182
CHAPTER XXVII.
TIARA MYSTIFIES US 187
CHAPTER XXVIII.
POOR FELLOW! 191
CHAPTER XXIX.
A REVELATION 195
CHAPTER XXX.
MR. A. HOSTILITY 201
CHAPTER XXXI.
TWO OF A KIND 206
CHAPTER XXXII.
WORKING AND WAITING 214
CHAPTER XXXIII.
BACK IN ALMAVILLE 220
CHAPTER XXXIV.
A GREAT DAY IN COURT 224
CHAPTER XXXV.
EUNICE! EUNICE! 240
CHAPTER XXXVI.
ENTHUSIASTIC JOHN BLUE 252
CHAPTER XXXVII.
POSTPONING HIS SHOUT OF TRIUMPH 265
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
HE CANNOT, BUT HE DOES! 269
CHAPTER XXXIX.
A SON OF THE NEW SOUTH 276
CHAPTER XL.
SORROW AND GLADNESS 289
TUNING THE LYRE.
In the long ago when the earth was in process of formation, it must have
been that those forces of nature most expert in the fashioning of the
beautiful were ordered to come together as collaborators and give to the
world Almaville!
Journeying toward the designated spot, they halted on the outskirts of
the site of the contemplated city, and tossed up a series of engirdling
hills, whose slopes and crests covered with verdure might afford in the
days to come a beautiful sight to the inhabitants when riding forth to
get a whiff of country air. These same forces of nature, evidently in
love with their work, arranged, it seems, for all the beautiful clouds
with their varying hues to pass in daily review over the head of the
city to be born.
In all that appertains to physical excellence Almaville was made
attractive, and somewhere, perhaps behind yon hills, the forces rested
until man set his foot upon the soil and prepared to build. They so
charged the air and all the environments with the spirit of the
beautiful, that the men who later wrought in building the city found
themselves the surprised and happy creators of a lovely habitation.
On an eminence crowning the center of the area whereon the city is
planted, the State has builded its capitol, and from the tower thereof
one can see the engaging network of streets, contemplate the splendid
architecture of the buildings, and gaze upon the noble trees that boldly
line the sidewalks, and thus testify that they are not afraid of
civilization.
Even in the matter of climate Almaville is highly favored, it would
seem. Her summers are not too hot nor her winters too cold, and many a
fevered brow finds solace in her balmy breezes.
The war gods saw and admired her, and decreed that one of the famous
battles of the Civil War should be fought within her environs, that
their memory might ever be cherished here.
Philanthropy, it seems, singled out Almaville for special attention,
granting unto her opportunities for learning that well might cause proud
Athens to touch her crown to see that it was still there and had not
been lifted by her modern rival.
A murky river runs through Almaville and a dark stream flows through the
lives of all of us who dwell upon its banks. But yonder! yonder! is the
ocean! Where?
THE AUTHOR.
THE HINDERED HAND.
CHAPTER I.
_Occurrences That Puzzle._
To the pagan yet remaining in man it would seem that yon railroad train
plunging toward the Southland is somehow conscious of the fact that it
is playing a part in events of tremendous import, for observe how it
pierces the darkness with its one wild eye, cleaves the air with its
steely front and causes wars and thunders to creep into the dreams of
the people by whose homes it makes its midnight rush.
Well, this train now moving toward Almaville, queen city of the South,
measured by the results that developed from that night's journey, is
fully entitled to all its fretting and fuming, brag and bluster of steam
and smoke, and to its wearisome jangle of clanging bell and shrieking
whistle and rumbling wheel.
It was summer time. A Negro porter passing through a coach set apart for
white passengers noted the fixedness with which a young woman with a
pretty face and a pair of beautiful blue eyes was regarding him. Her
head was inclined to one side, her hand so supporting her face that a
prettily shaped ear peeped out from between her fingers. In the look of
her eye there was a slight suggestion of immaturity, which, however, was
contradicted by the firm outlines of her face. As the porter drew near
her seat she significantly directed her look to a certain spot on the
car floor, thence to the eyes of the porter.
Having in mind the well understood dictum of the white man of the South
that the Negro man and the white woman are to be utterly oblivious of
the existence of each other, this Negro porter was loth to believe that
the young woman was trying surreptitiously to attract his attention, and
he passed out of the coach hurriedly. In a short while he returned and
again noted how intently the young woman regarded him. This time he
observed that she had evidently been weeping and that there was a look
of hopeless sorrow in her eyes. Again the young woman looked at him,
then upon the floor and up at him once more. The porter looked down upon
the spot indicated by her look, saw a note, stooped and picked it up. He
returned to the coach or rather to the end of a coach, set apart for
Negroes, took a rear seat and surveyed the car preparatory to reading
the note which the young woman plainly indicated was for him.
"I don't want white girls passing me notes," thought the Negro,
clutching the note tightly and continuing to glance about the coach in a
half-frightened manner. He arose to hoist the window by which he sat,
intending to utilize it to be rid of the note in case the occasion
should demand it. His fears had begun to suggest to him that perhaps
some white man had noticed his taking cognizance of the young woman's
efforts to attract his attention.
As the Negro section of the coach was the forward section and next to
the baggage car, any person coming from the section set apart for the
whites would be to the back of the Negro passengers. The porter
therefore changed his seat, going forward and taking a position where he
would be facing any one coming from the coach for whites. He raised the
window by which he sat and his eye wandered out into the darkness amid
the sombre trees that went speeding along, and there arose to haunt him
mental visions of a sea of angry white faces closing around some one
dark face, perhaps guilty and perhaps innocent; and as he thought
thereon he shuddered. He felt sorely tempted to toss the note out of the
window unread, but remembering the pleading look on the face of the
young woman he did not follow the promptings of his fear.
"In case of trouble, this crew in here couldn't help a fellow much,"
said the porter, moving his eyes about slowly again, taking note one by
one of those in the section with him. There was the conductor, who
though a white man, seemed always to prefer to sit in the section set
apart for the Negroes. There was the newsboy, also white, taking up two
seats with his wares.
"As well as they know me they would go with the other gang. A white man
is a white man, and don't you forget it," mused the porter.
There were two male passengers sitting together, Negroes, one of whom
was so light of complexion that he could easily have passed for white,
while the other was of a dark brown hue.
"A fine looking fellow," thought the porter concerning the dark young
man.
Across the aisle from the two young men mentioned, and a seat or so in
advance of them, sat a young woman whose face was covered with a very
thick veil. The perfect mould of her shoulders, the attractiveness of
her wealth of black hair massed at the back of her head--these things
were demanding, the porter noticed, many an admiring glance from the
darker of the two young men.
The porter seemed about to forget his note in observing with what
regularity the young man's eyes would wander off and straightway return
to rest upon the beautiful form of the young woman, but an incident
occurred that brought his mind back very forcibly to the note. The door
from the section for the whites opened and two white men entered.
The porter's hand in which the note was held cautiously crept toward the
open window, while he eyed the two white men whom he feared had come to
accuse him of an attempted flirtation with a young white woman. One of
the men reached behind to his hip pocket and the porter half arose in
his seat, throwing up his hands in alarm, expecting a pistol to appear
to cover him. The white man was simply drawing out a flask of whiskey to
offer his companion a drink.
Ensal Ellwood, the dark young man, looking around to see if the parties
who had entered had closed the door behind them (for the adjoining
section was the white people's smoking apartment, and care had to be
exercised to keep smoke and tobacco fumes out), saw the two white men
about to take a drink. He arose quickly and advancing to the two men,
said quietly, urbanely and yet with an air of firmness,
"Gentlemen, the law prescribes that this coach shall be used exclusively
by Negro passengers and we must ask that you do not make our first-class
apartment a drinking room for the whites."
The two men stared at Ensal and he looked them frankly in the face that
they might see that in a dignified manner he would insist to the last
upon the rights of the Negro passengers. The justness of Ensal's
request, his unostentatious, manly bearing had the desired effect. The
two men quietly turned about and left the car.
The porter who had been standing during this little scene now sat down,
opened the note and read as follows:
"MR. PORTER: When this train is within a fifteen minutes' run
of Almaville please pass through this coach and so announce.
Then stand on the platform leading from this coach to the
coach in which the Negroes have their section.
"FROM THE GIRL THAT LOOKED AT YOU."
The first part of this request the porter concluded to comply with, but
he registered all sorts of vows to the effect that he would never be
found waiting on any platform for any white girl. He murmered to
himself.
"My young lady, you may sign yourself, 'From the girl that looked at
you;' but with all due respect my signature is 'The boy that wasn't
there.'"
Again he looked out of the window at the same sombre trees and into the
gloom of their shadows, and he put his hand in his collar as though it
was already too tight.
"No, my God!" he said softly. Tearing the note to shreds, he fed it to
the winds, lowered the window and began to whistle.
When the train was in the designated distance of Almaville the porter
entered the coach for whites in which sat the young woman who wrote the
note. "Fifteen minutes and the train pulls into Almaville," he
exclaimed, as he walked the aisle in an opposite direction to that
desired by the young woman. She at once understood and saw that she must
depend upon herself.
The fragile, beautiful creature arose and by holding to the ends of the
various seats staggered to the door. She opened it and by tenacious
clinging to the iron railings on the platform managed to pull herself
across to the adjoining coach. Passing through the smoker for the white
men she entered the Negro section. With a half stifled sob she threw
herself into the lap of the Negro girl and nestled her face on her
shoulder.
The young woman from the coach for the whites now tossed back the veil
of the Negro girl and the two girls kissed, looking each other in the
eyes, pledging in that kiss and in that look, the unswerving, eternal
devotion of heart to heart whatever the future might bring. The young
woman now slowly turned away and went toward the coach whence she came,
assisted by the wondering conductor.
From large dark eyes whose great native beauty was heightened by that
tender look of the soul that they harbored, the Negro girl stood
watching her visitor depart. The grace of her form that was somewhat
taller and somewhat larger than that of the average girl, stamped her as
a creature that could be truthfully called sublimely beautiful, thought
Ensal. Whatever complexion on general principles Ensal thought to be the
most attractive, he was now ready to concede that the delicate light
brown color of this girl could not be surpassed in beauty.
If, incredulous as to the accuracy of the estimate of her beauty forced
upon one at the first glance, an effort was made to analyze that face
and study its parts separately, each feature was seen to have a beauty
all its own.
"So sweet and beautiful a face and so lovely a form could only have been
handed to a soul of whom _they_ are not even worthy," thought Ensal.
A sober look was in Ensal's eye and some kind of a mad gallop was in his
heart. There was more than soberness in the blue eyes of Earl Bluefield,
Ensal's companion. When Ensal looked around at his friend he was
astonished at the terribly bitter look on his face.
The train emptied a number of its passengers and rushed on and on and
on, as if fleeing from the results to be anticipated from its deposit of
new and strange forces into the life of Almaville.