_Officers Of The Law._
"Hold on, there!" said one of a group of white boys on their way to
school. The command was addressed to a Negro lad fourteen years of age.
"Where are you going?" asked the self-appointed spokesman of the white
boys. The Negro lad looked sullenly at the white boy.
"No need of clouding up; you can't rain," said the white boy. "Don't you
know the law? The school board said for you niggers to get to school a
half hour before we white children. What do you mean by hanging around
and going to school on our time?"
"It is none of your business," said the Negro.
"I guess you had better skip, Mr. Coon," said the white boy. The group
now sat down on the curbing, while the Negro walked away. The white boys
gathered stones preparatory for battle.
The race problem had at last reached the childhood of the two races. In
former days the children of the whites and the Negroes had played
together, and ties of friendship were formed that often survived the
changes of later years when one playmate became a master and his fellow
became his servant. But that friendly commingling of other days was
practically all gone now, and clashes between the white and Negro
children became so frequent that the school authorities had decreed
separate hours for the opening and closing of the schools of the two
races, so as to lessen the friction as much as possible.
"Fly, you black face nigger, you," shouted a white boy.
"My face ain't near as black as your heart," rejoined the Negro,
adroitly dodging the stones thrown by the white boys. The Negro threw
his books to the sidewalk and soon had a handful of missiles.
The rock battle was now on in earnest, the white boys feeling sure that
their superior numbers would soon put the lone warrior to flight. The
Negro entered into the battle with his whole soul, and was vigorous and
alert. It was his idea that the injuring of one or two of his opponents
would bring the battle to a close. A policeman rounded a corner leading
to the street in which the rock battle was raging. The Negro's back was
to the policeman, while the other boys were facing him. They dropped
their stones and assumed a pacific and frightened attitude in time to
impress the policeman that they were being needlessly assaulted by the
Negro.
[Illustration: "The rock battle was now on in earnest, the white boys
feeling sure that their superior numbers would soon put
the lone warrior to flight."
(54-55)]
The Negro who did not see the policeman, ascribed the capitulation of
his opponents to his own vigorous campaign, and now picked up his books,
a look of exultation on his face. When he turned he found himself in the
arms of the policeman. One of the boys, it developed, had been slightly
bruised by one of the Negro's rocks. The Negro was put under arrest and
locked up in the station house for the night.
The next morning as Tiara was perusing the paper, she noticed that a
Negro boy, Henry Crump, had been arrested on a charge of assault and
battery.
"Henry Crump--Henry Crump--Crump--Crump! That name is familiar to me,"
said Tiara, laying aside the paper to see if she could recall why the
name sounded so familiarly to her. "I have it," said she, springing to
her feet. "Why, I stayed with the Crumps the first night that I was in
Almaville. And it is their little Henry in trouble. I'll help the little
fellow out," said she.
Tiara observed that little Henry's case was set for ten o'clock that
morning and it was then nine. She dispatched a note to Ensal, who
immediately responded in person to accompany her to the place of the
trial.
"This," said Ensal, "is but a symptom of a growing disease. In the days
before the war the young master and the Negro boys played together and
there was undoubtedly a strong tie of personal friendship between the
slaveholding class and the Negroes on their plantation. But all is
changed now. Rarely do you find white and Negro children playing
together, and the feeling of estrangement grows apace with the years."
"What is pending?" earnestly asked Tiara, turning her large, anxious
eyes on Ensal.
"Heaven alone knows," replied Ensal. "Just think! In order to have peace
here between the children of the two races, the school authorities
provide that there shall be a difference of an half hour between the
respective hours of going to and coming from school," continued Ensal.
They were soon at the police station. Climbing the flight of stairs they
entered a room crowded with Negroes from the lower stratum. The great
majority of the women, it could be seen, had made some effort at
respectability in attire. Some of the occupants of the room were there
as witnesses in cases, others because of interest in parties to be
tried, while the majority were there to pass judgment on the judge and
learn as best they might the ways of the court and the law. Here and
there was a sprinkling of respectable people who had by means of some
mischance been caught in the drift.
One by one parties charged with offenses were called forward, fined and
ordered released or passed back. At length the case of Henry Crump was
called, and he came forward at a rather brisk pace, looking confidently
at his mother and Foresta who had come prepared to lift him out of his
trouble. On the same seat with Foresta and her mother sat Tiara and
Ensal and their presence somehow gave added assurance to Henry.
Henry made his statements, the witnesses were examined and in the
monotone with which the police judge went through with all of the cases,
he said, "Fined twenty dollars and costs."
Foresta half arose, shocked at the amount, and Mrs. Crump crouched back
in her seat in despair. Foresta had in her hand a crisp ten dollar bill
which the family had raised, not dreaming that the fine would go above
that amount.
"Pass him back," said the judge. Henry cast an inquiring look at Foresta
and his mother. Tears were in Foresta's eyes and Henry knew that they
were helpless. It simply meant that he was to have a pick on his leg and
work the streets of Almaville. He dropped his head disconsolately,
nervously fumbled his hat, and tears appeared in his eyes. The sting
went deep into his boyish soul as he walked away.
"Wait a minute!" rang out Tiara's voice, and going up to the judge's
desk, she put down a fifty-dollar-bill, saying, "Take the amount of the
fine and costs out of this."
The judge looked up somewhat surprised. Tiara's act, born purely out of
sympathy for the youthfulness of Henry and of sentimental regard for the
first family that harbored her in Almaville, was totally
misunderstood by the court officials. They fancied they scented a race
contest in the matter and felt that Tiara was simply trying to show
that it was all right for a Negro boy to stand up against white boys.
They now decided to punish Henry to the limit of the law.
"Release the prisoner," said the judge.
Henry was released and Foresta and her frail looking mother rushed to
Tiara to thank her. While they were doing this the deputy sheriff
stepped up and rearrested Henry.
"Pardon me," said Ensal, interrupting the felicitations of the ladies.
"We are not through yet. I see they are taking the boy over to the
County Court."
"That isn't right," cried Foresta, as she followed the group.
The Criminal Court was then in session, and Henry's case was not long in
being called. The deputy sheriff was seen to whisper a few words aside
to the judge. The jury brought in a verdict of guilty and the judge
assessed his punishment at ten months on the county farm.
Henry was now placed on the bench, where sat the row of convicted
prisoners awaiting the pleasure of the sheriff, whose duty it was to
deliver them to the places assigned them. As the boy took his seat on
this bench to await the issue of other trials, when the sheriff would
carry all the prisoners over together, there began to crowd to his mind
all that he knew of Negroes on the county farm. He had heard of the
indecent manner of whipping Negro women practiced out there. He saw one
woman whose eye had been knocked out by an overseer. He had seen a
petition emanating from the colored people containing sworn allegations
setting forth a multitude of horrors.
Henry remembered having seen one boy return whose foot was frost-bitten
and had to be amputated as the result of exposure at the farm. It was
summer now, but ten months would carry him fully through the winter at
the farm. The thoughts of a stay there was too much for him. Arising
quickly he sprang up into the court house window. An officer rushed
toward him to intercept him, but it was too late. Out of the window he
jumped, dropping to the pavement below. He dashed out of the side gate
of the court house yard and ran southward across the square, in the
center of which the court house stood. Coming to the street which led to
the bridge over the river that intersected the city, he turned eastward
and started across the bridge with all the speed at his command.
The court officials were now in hot pursuit of the fleeing lad, one
officer seizing a buggy, another jumping upon a street car and ordering
the motorman to proceed at his utmost speed.
Henry had almost covered the full length of the bridge when the cry of
the officers, caught up from one to another, had about come up with him.
When he had all but reached the farther end of the bridge, in order to
avoid an officer whom he saw standing awaiting him with a drawn pistol,
he leaped over the railing and dropped about twenty feet, striking the
embankment reared up for a resting place for the end of the bridge.
This officer of the law saw Henry leap and ran to the steps which were
not far from the spot whence he had jumped. The officer reached the
steps in time to see Henry sliding toward the water's edge. The officer
began running down the steps, shooting as he ran. The people on the
bridge crowded to the side over which Henry had leaped and witnessed the
race between Henry and the shooting officer. Henry fell and it was
thought that he was hit, but he arose and continued his running. He
turned under the bridge and ran along parallel with the waters of the
river. After passing fully under the bridge, Henry plunged into the
stream and ran somewhat diagonally toward the center of the river until
he was up to his neck in water.
"Move a step further out and I will kill you," said a bareheaded
officer, who had at last reached the river bank, brandishing his pistol
as he spoke.
By this time hundreds, perhaps a thousand or so, of people had gathered
on the bridge. Henry stood in the water tossing his arms up and down. He
feared to come ashore and was equally afraid to try to swim further out,
feeling that he would be killed in any event. Some one on the bridge
lifted a revolver to the railing, leveled it at Henry's head and fired.
"Shame! Shame! Shame!" was the word passed from lip to lip, as the noise
of the shot was heard. Henry threw up his hands and fell, his arms
upstretched above his head as he disappeared beneath the surface of the
water. No one of the thousands stirred. In breathless silence they
watched the spot where the lad had sunk out of sight. Some felt that
Henry had simply dived and in due time would rise. Second after second
passed, on the brief moments of time flew, while the eager eyes of the
multitude were fastened on the murky waters of the river. Henry did not
rise. He was dead. When it was known that life must be extinct, officers
of the law rowed out to where he was last seen and fished his body out.
Ensal who had followed the chase now returned to the court house. Tiara,
Foresta and Foresta's mother had heard the shooting and formed an
awe-struck group, fearing that something had happened and yet hoping
against hope. Ensal's sad countenance told them that their worst fears
were realized.
"Henry is dead, mama," moaned Foresta, as she threw her arms about her
frail mama's neck. "He is dead, mama; let's go home," wailed Foresta
again.
Ensal and Tiara returned to Mrs. Crawford's.