and was tying a thick woollen wrapper over his mouth, so that the last
remark was nearly lost in it. He then put on an oil-skin cap, not unlike
what is called by sailors a 'sou'-wester,' and stood watching the
proceedings of his comrade, which were by no means as expeditious as his
own; for that gentleman proceeded very leisurely to encase his feet in a
pair of thick woollen stockings, and a pair of shoes more capable of
resisting the wet than those which he then wore. After this, he put an
oil-cloth jacket over his other one, and surmounted the whole by a coat
similar to that worn by Craig.
'One would suppose you was a baby, from your tenderness to yourself,' said
Craig, impatiently. 'You ain't sugar, are you? Do you expect the rain to
melt you?'
'I'm a sweet fellow, I know that,' replied the other, carefully buttoning
his coat to the chin. 'I may be sugar for all I know, shouldn't be
surprised if I was. I've been told so afore this; let me tell you _that_,
my old feller. You ain't in kidney to-night. Take another pull at little
Job,' said he, handing him the bottle, 'and we'll be off.'
Whatever Craig's contempt of the rain might be, it did not seem to extend
to other liquids; for he took the bottle, and applying it to his lips, did
not remove it until the bottom of it was not a little inclined toward the
ceiling; perhaps its elevation might even have increased, had not Jones
reminded him that it being late at night, the vessel could not be
replenished, and that there was a 'small child' to be helped after him,
who hated above all things sucking at the neck of a dry bottle.
Craig permitted the bottle to be taken from his hand, and stood with his
eyes fixed on the floor in deep thought; nor did he arouse himself until
Jones took him by the arm, and said:
'Come on; all's ready.'
Craig started at the words. 'The pistols and the glim?'
'I've got 'em.'
'And the crow-bar?'
'All snug _here_,' said Jones, touching the pocket of his great-coat.
'Good! Follow me.' Craig strode across the room, and went out.
It was a dreadful night. The rain spouted furiously from the
water-conductors, and sped boiling and foaming through the streets. The
wind too caught it up as it fell, and swept it in long sheets through the
streets; and as the two men battled their way along, it seemed actually to
hiss around them, like the long lash of a whip. The tempest had a rare
frolic that night, and right merrily did it howl over the house-tops, and
through the narrow streets; and fast and furiously did the water bubble
and boil, as it dashed on like mad to the deep river, to take refuge in
her bosom from its tormentor the hurricane.
Not a thing was stirring; not a beast. Not a man, except the two felons. A
right glorious night it was for rapine and midnight murder. The house-dog
had slunk in his straw, and the watchman was dozing away, under some shed,
or stoop, or in some dark door-way. There was nothing to stand in the way
of these enterprising men, save the fierce storm, and what cared they for
that? It was the very night for them. If it came to blows, or if a life
was to be taken, the death-cry would be lost in the howling of the wind;
it was the night of all nights for _them_; and so thought Craig and his
comrade, as they toiled along, with their heads bent down to keep the rain
out of their faces.
'Is it far?' at last inquired Jones; 'we've come a mile.'
'Half a mile more,' replied Craig; and that was all that passed between
them, until they stood in front of Harson's house.
'This is it,' said Craig.
He lifted the latch of the gate opening into the door-yard, and approached
the house.
'Where are we to begin?' inquired Jones.
Craig pointed to a small window on a level with, or rather sunk somewhat
below, the surface of the ground, with a kind of area around it. '_There_;
there are iron gratings, but they are set in the wood, which is all
rotten. Quick! try them with the crow-bar; they'll give.'
Jones, with an alacrity and adroitness which showed a long experience in
such matters, after feeling his way to the place, and passing his hand
over the bars to discover their exact situation, inserted his crow-bar
between the stone-work and the wood, and at the very first application
forced the whole out. A wooden shutter which opened from within, being
merely secured by a wooden button, gave way before a strong pressure of
his hand, and left the entrance open.
'Go in quick!--don't keep a fellow in the rain all night,' said Craig, in
a sharp whisper. 'It's only three feet to the floor. Get in, will you?'
'Shut up! Cuss ye!' exclaimed Jones, savagely; 'let me take my own way.'
As he spoke, he inserted his feet, and gradually let himself down until he
touched the floor. In a moment Craig was at his side, and closed the
shutter.
'Now, quick! a light!' whispered he. In another minute, the dark lantern
was lighted, and Craig, taking it up and throwing back the slide, turned
it carefully around the place. It was a cellar, filled with empty barrels
and boxes; and seemed to be a sort of receptacle for rubbish of all
descriptions. At one end was a door leading to the upper part of the
house. It was partly open. Without a word, Craig went to it and ascended
the stairs, which were shut off from the kitchen by another door.
Craig opened this, and crossed the room with a quick yet stealthy step,
but with the air of one perfectly familiar with the precincts. Passing
through the entry, he went into Harson's sitting-room; from there into the
outer room, communicating with the street.
'We'll open the street door, Bill,' said he, 'in case we have to bolt
quick. There,' said he, as he drew back two bolts, and turned the key,
don't forget the road. Leave all the doors open. That'll do. We'll get the
girl first, and then we'll see what's to be done. First door at the head
of the stairs. Quiet, quiet; there's a dog in the next room.'
Stealing up the stairs, they opened the door, and the full light of the
lamp fell in the child's room. They could hear her low, regular breathing
as she slept. Craig handed the light to his companion.
'I'll take her,' whispered he. 'Bring the light so that I can see. There,
that will do.' He bent over her. As he did so, he accidentally stirred the
bed-clothes, and the child opened her eyes; and before he could prevent
it, a single wild cry escaped her as she caught sight of the wild faces
which were bending over her.
'Christ! how she yelps!' exclaimed Craig, in a fierce whisper. He clapped
his hand over her mouth. 'By G-d! there goes the dog too! we must be off.
My chicken,' said he, in a low tone, 'if you understand plain English, you
know what I mean when I say if you whisper loud enough to wake a cat,
you'll get a bullet through your head. Hist! Bill, was that a door
creaking? I can't hear for the d----d dog!' Both stopped and listened.
'It was only the door below,' said Jones. 'Quick! quick!'
Craig caught the child out of bed, wrapped a blanket about her to stifle
her cries, in case she should make any, and moved to the door.
'Turn the light on the door; I can't see. There, that will do. Now then,
it's open, and the game's ours.'
'_Not quite_!' said a stern voice; and the next instant Craig received a
blow from a fist which sent him reeling back into the room.
'Watch! watch! murder! thieves!' bellowed Harson from without, while from
the din, at least forty pug-dogs seemed to be barking in all parts of the
entry.
'Shoot him! shoot him down!' shouted Craig, springing to the door. 'By
G-d! the door's shut, and he's holding it from the outside!' exclaimed he,
pulling it with all his force. 'He's as strong as a bull. Quick! shoot
through the panel! He must stand behind the knob. Fire!'
Instead of obeying him, Bill Jones seized the child. 'Hark ye, old
fellow,' said he; 'shut up, or I'll dash this girl's brains out. If I
don't, d--n me!'
This appeal was heard, and operated upon Harson; but in a different manner
from what they expected, for he relaxed his hold of the door so suddenly,
that Craig fell backward, and bursting into the room, with a single blow
prostrated the burglar, who was bending over the child, and dashed the
light to the ground. His advantage was only momentary; for in a minute
Craig flung himself upon him. But the old man's blood was up. In his young
days he had been a powerful wrestler; and even now the robber found him no
easy conquest, for he said, in a husky tone: 'This won't do, Bill. Drop
the girl and come here. This blasted old fool will keep us all night.'
Instead of obeying him, Jones stole to the head of the stairs and
listened. In an instant he sprang back.
'We must be off, Tim! Some one is coming. Quick! Let loose the man.'
But there were two to that bargain; for Harson had heard the words as well
as the robber, and he held him with a grip like a vice.
'Let go your hold and we'll be off,' said Craig, in a husky voice.
'Never! You shall taste what you are so ready to give!' said Harson,
fiercely.
'Bill, there's no time to lose!' exclaimed Craig, in a stern tone. 'Shoot
him, and have done with it! There, now; I'll hold him.'
The report of a pistol followed; but as it did so, a deep groan came from
Craig. 'You've done for me, Bill. The old fellow dodged. Run! run!--my
rope's out.'
'Can't I help you, Tim?' exclaimed Jones.
'No, no; go! Get off; I'll not blow on you.'
Thus adjured, the robber paused no longer. But escape was now no easy
matter; for at the door he was saluted by a loud voice:
'Hallo! Harry; is this you?'
'No, no, a thief! Grab him, Frank!'
The next instant Jones was in the grip of a powerful man, but he was a
giant himself, and desperate. He flung himself with all his force upon his
adversary, and both went to the floor together; Jones' hand on the other's
throat.
There is something fearful in the grapple of a desperate man, even when
feeble in frame; and in the case of Jones, who knew that every thing
depended on his efforts, and whose fierce spirit was backed by muscles of
iron, the conflict was one of such fury that the very walls of the old
house shook. From step to step, from the landing to the hall, they fought;
tugging and tearing at each other like two dogs, while Harry Harson in
vain hung about them; the darkness and the rapidity of their motions
preventing him from distinguishing friend from foe.
'By G-d! he's an ox for strength,' at last said Frank; 'if you'd do any
thing, Harry, go to the door and sing out for the watch. I'll hold him.'
It might be that in order to utter these words the Doctor relaxed his
grip, or it might be that the knowledge of the increased risk that he
would run gave additional strength to the robber, for he made a single
desperate effort, tore himself from the iron grasp that held him down,
rose to his knee, and striking the Doctor a blow in the face that for a
moment bewildered him, sprang to his feet, dashed Harson from the door,
bounded across the room between the hall and the street-door, and darted
into the street at full speed.
'D--n me, Harry, he's off!' said the Doctor, assuming a sitting posture on
the floor. 'He deserves to escape, for he fought like a devil for it. D--n
him, he's a brave fellow! There's no use in chasing him, I suppose; you
and I ain't cut out for running. If that last crack had hit me on the
nose, it would have smashed it. Come, let's see after the other fellow;
perhaps he's playing possum, and may be off. If you don't stop the barking
of that d----d dog of yours, I'll kill him.' Groping their way back to the
upper floor, from which they caught sight of Spite, rapidly retreating as
they advanced, they found the house-keeper standing in the room which they
had just left, arrayed in a particularly large white night-gown and
wearing a particularly high cap, with a particularly fierce white ribbon
on the top of it, and bearing in her hand a dim rush-light.
'Quick! Martha; more lights, and some brandy!' said Harson, pushing past
her. 'Thank God! _you're_ not hurt, Annie! Come, Doctor, this poor devil
is human,' said he, pointing to Craig, who lay on the floor apparently
dead. 'Look to him; he breathes. I hear him.'
It needed no second appeal; for before he had finished, the Doctor had
turned the robber over, opened his vest, and displayed a wound in his
breast. He thrust his finger in it, and then looking up at Harry, shook
his head.
'He's a case; _must_ go!'
'Poor fellow! God only knows what may have driven him to this. Help me to
put him on the bed.'
Taking him in their arms, they placed him on the bed; and there they sat
and watched him until the dawn of day. The bright sunshine came cheerily
in at the window; the storm had passed, and the sky looked clear and blue,
as if it had never been unruffled. And at that hour, and in that room,
with the golden sunbeams streaming in, lay Tim Craig, his head pressed
heavily back upon the pillow, bound round with a cloth dabbled in blood.
His face was blackened and bruised, and his shirt and the bed-clothes
stained with blood. His breath was short and heavy, and at times, gasping;
his mouth half open, and his dull eye fixed with a heavy leaden stare at
the ceiling. His race was nearly run. He seemed utterly unconscious of the
presence of any one, until the door opened, and Harson, who had gone out,
came in.
He went to the bed, and leaned over the burglar. As he did so, his shadow
falling across the man's face, attracted his attention, and he turned his
heavy eye, and asked, in a husky voice:
'Will I go? What does he say?'
Harson shook his head. 'It's almost over with you, my poor fellow; God
help you!'
The man turned his head away and looked at the wall.
'Do you understand me?' said Harson, anxiously bending over him.
'Yes, yes,' replied the man in the same mumbling tone; 'yes, I'm come for;
my time's up. I was a strong man yesterday; and now! now----! It's very
strange! very strange!' He muttered a few inarticulate words, and then
resumed his old position, looking at the wall, with no sound escaping him
except the low panting of his breath. Suddenly he said, in a louder tone:
'It's all very strange _here_.' He pointed to his head. 'Were you ever at
sea? Yes; well, well--did you ever see a ship toss and swing to and
fro--to and fro--to and fro, and yet keep straight on? Well, my brain
reels and swims in that way. There are dim strange things; men, beasts,
birds, and ghosts hovering about it; but I see straight on, and they are
on all sides of the path; yes, I see it straight, straight, straight and
plain. I'm going on it. They can't make me swerve; but it's awful to have
such company about me on such a journey. Come close to me!'
Harson drew his chair close to the bed and sat down. 'I've sent for a
clergyman,' said he, in a low tone; 'He'll be here presently. You must
endeavor to chase away these thoughts; they are only dreams.'
Craig's thin lips contracted into a smile which was horrible, as without
moving his eyes from their fixed position, he whispered: 'No, no; he won't
do it--he'll not do it. No; I won't blow on you, Bill. Ha! how hot that
bullet was! Lift me up! _He's_ there! Yes, lift me up, so that I may be
above him; up! up! Ha! ha! that'll do. Bill, do you recollect the old
school-master? There! Up! up!'
Harson put his arm under him, and raised him. As he did so, Craig's head
fell against his shoulder, dabbling it with blood. The next instant he
stretched himself out at full length, gave a shudder; a long rattling
breath followed; and he fell back on the pillow--dead.
LINES TO DEATH.
How vain is human strength to flee,
Thou mighty ONE! from thee!
Thou hid'st the scenes that lie the grave beyond--
Thou hast the secrets of the world unseen;
Where the loved ones, the beautiful, the fond,
And all who tossed on life's wild sea have been,
Have gone in silence at thy dreadful call,
Great conqueror of all!
Empires are crumbled at thy dread command,
And nations rise and nourish but to fall;
Even earth is thine; and thou e'er long shalt stand,
And mark its wealth, and power, and beauty, all
Fade and depart as sunbeams in the heaven
Vanish and die at even!
The midnight storm, the tempest raging high,
The sweeping pestilence, and fell disease,
Rude winter's blast, and balmy summer's sigh,
Earth, and the sea whose murmurs never cease,
All are but agents of thy sovereign will,
Thy bidding to fulfil.
Couldst thou to man's earth-fettered soul reveal
The bliss thou bringest to the pure in heart,
Would sudden horror o'er his spirit steal,
When called at last with low-born joys to part?
Would he not rather sigh for that bless'd shore,
Where death is known no more?
Stern Power! though others shudder at thy tread,
And vainly seek thy arrow to evade,
Before thy stroke I fain would bow my head,
Nor grieve to see my transient pleasures fade:
In thy embrace my sorrows all shall cease,
For in the grave is peace!
H. C.
SKETCHES OF EAST-FLORIDA.
NUMBER FOUR.
ST. AUGUSTINE: THE LAST LOOK.
Our schooner was 'up' for Charleston by the first fair wind; but the
captain was fastidious, and the only fair wind was directly aft. A point
or two off would not do, unless it had been blowing for a day or two and
was likely to continue till the captain could land his passengers in
Charleston. Running in on the Georgia coast was always very delightful to
the passengers, but not at all so to Captain S----. We had taken berths in
the schooner about the middle of April, and when the first week in May had
passed by, we began to think it would be difficult to find the precise
article of air which the captain desired. During this time it seemed to
have become coquettish, giving us all kinds of northerly, all varieties of
east, and a preponderance of westerly wind, finishing off with a sirocco
from the south-west, ('a Boston east wind boiled,' and the only unpleasant
summer wind on the coast,) after which it stopped short; the sand and the
orange blossoms settled again, and every thing hung perpendicular. The
next morning a puff came up from the south in a very blustering manner, as
though it had an immense capital to back it, but proved very short-winded.
Our little craft thinking to beat us, shook its sails out right and left,
and dashed out of the harbor, rounding the point in a handsome manner; but
before reaching the bar it slacked away, till 'small by degrees and
beautifully less,' it came to a dead stand; and the same evening we dashed
back again with a no'th-east-by-east behind us, to the great delight of
promenaders on the sea-wall and the public in general. Ladies rode through
the streets at a hard-gallop; little niggers crept under balconies; and an
individual who shall be nameless performed a feat with a certain Di.
Vernon of that ilk, which resulted in a bill the next morning of some odd
dollars for extra motion, and a severe lesson upon the moralities of
fast-riding. The mid-day weather at this time was decidedly summerish, the
temperature having the _feel_ of about seventy in our latitude, but
ranging there from eighty to ninety degrees.
We were beginning the summer custom of gathering every morning to meet the
'doctor' (sea-breeze) on the square, only a short walk below, which I
prolonged on the sea-wall to the little schooner, examined the labels on
the berths, crushed an orange at the corner shop, and lounged up to the
nine-pin alley to close up the 'unfinished business.' After bowling, if it
was too warm to invent any thing that would not be forgotten before
dinner, the old routine was the order of the day; and back-gammon or
flirtation had it, according as we were nearer the Florida House or the
one 'round the corner.' The thirty or forty others who had helped make the
winter pleasant, had been gone for weeks, and our little parties for
bathing or riding, or any other trifling matter which might be better than
a cigar on the piazza, had that snug kind of personality which is so much
more pleasant than safe, that I half-wished the thirty or forty had gone
much sooner than they did.
I was sitting on the piazza one morning with a number of un-appropriated
blank hours before me, a little embarrassed whether to tease the big bear
in the yard or lean over and give up to it, with the old dog who was
snapping at flies on the floor, when it struck me as something very fresh,
that as the wind was still two points off, I could make one more sally
into the country. Before the thought had time to cool, my horse was
brought to the door, and looking about for a companion, I asked Miss
H----, who hesitated and declined; but I found one in Lieut. T----, who
was that morning going over to Picolata. The distance is eighteen miles,
through an unbroken pine-barren, (one opening only, at Fort Searle, twelve
miles out,) and an under-growth of palmettos of just sufficient height for
Indians to hide in. For a long time the travel over all that portion of
the territory lying south of a line fifty miles north of us, was with an
escort of fifteen or twenty men, who moved at a slow rate, a hundred yards
apart, so as not to present to the Indians more than one or two shots at a
time from any one point.
Notwithstanding the precaution of a strong escort every day, out or in, on
the Picolata road, there had been more downright murdering there than in
any other part of the territory, some having been shot down almost in
sight of Augustine. This was not escort-day, but if it had been, our
horses were not disposed to be six hours in the sun, in going so short a
distance. The little grey steed that I had been using for some weeks was
not by any means a lady's article, but he had been alongside of them in
many a ride on the beach, and so learned the trick of combining the
playful and gallant in a very pretty manner. His ambition was to be always
up to the mark, and a head more if his companion would allow it; but at
the least indication of rivalry his head went down, and nothing less than
iron muscles could keep him from his twelve-mile gait. If not well-matched
it was his delight to dash ahead for a hundred yards, and then stop and
look back, or perhaps return, make a short sweep around his companion, jog
on sociably for a little, and then repeat the manoeuvre; and in doing this
my arms were only sufficient to guide him a little in case he attempted
the barren, and keep him clear of the saw-palmetto. T----'s animal
belonged at Picolata. The quarter-master at the barracks had sent him up
to be taken over, and as we mounted at the Florida House, I could not help
smiling as I recognized the same fellow that the quarter-master had
politely sent me for a similar purpose some time previous. He was
long-bodied and very long-limbed, and having been brought up in camp, his
motion had all the stiffness of the marching step. His point, any two
points being given, was to make the straight line between them in the
shortest possible time, in an unbroken trot; but there was no danger of
his breaking it; he was not capable of a gallop; his limbs couldn't be
brought to it.
We passed out of town at an easy pace, talking over the last night's ball;
and while crossing the bridge the lieutenant called my attention to his
saddle, a cast-iron frame thinly covered with leather, leaving large
rib-spaces on the back, which he commended as being delightfully cool.
'But, my dear fellow,' said I, 'why didn't you get a blanket?' He replied
that after getting accustomed to it, it was much easier than the padded
saddle. 'Do you know,' said I, 'that that horse is a trotter?' 'I'm used
to trotters,' said he. 'You ease up a little in the stirrups?' 'No;
contrary to rules.'