"Well," I said at length, "what have you to tell me?"
"Sit down there," he said, in a calm and even commanding tone, "and
speak low; for there are more ears near than yours and mine. I do not
want to take you at a disadvantage. If we have to fight this thing
out, let us fight it out together; though still I am better off than
you are; for you love life, I hate it. You have hopes, I have none,
but to do the work upon which I am sent, how much soever I detest it,
and then to quit it for the grave."
As he spoke, he seated himself where he had before been lying, putting
his musket carelessly down beside him, as if he had no apprehension
that I would take advantage of any negligence on his part. I was more
careful; for what he had said of more ears being near than ours had
roused suspicions; and placing my gun close to my hand as I seated
myself, I drew the pistol from my pocket, and laid it within reach.
"There is no need of such care," he said, in a somewhat sarcastic
tone;--"the first loud call, the first gun-report, will bring plenty
of others hither."
"I have _your_ life, at all events, at my command," I replied. "You
cannot escape me; and I do not intend you shall, though my own life be
lost the moment after."
The man laughed till he showed all his white row of teeth.
"Why, then," demanded he, "should I tell you anything? But be not too
sure, Englishman. I would fain spare your life. You are not one of our
oppressors; you have never held a slave. Your countrymen, I hear, have
set my countrymen free, wherever they were in bondage; and we have no
quarrel with you."
"Then why," I exclaimed, thinking of the unhappy McGrubber, "did you
kill a man who was the advocate of your emancipation, the bold
denouncer of your masters? Why did you chop him to pieces with your
axes, in Mr. Stringer's house?"
"Because he did it all for his own selfish purposes," answered Turner;
"because he did it all for the political ends of himself, and his
party, not for any love of us, or of freedom, or of justice. Do you
think we are to be caught by such vain talk? Do you think we never
hear from our brethren who have fled to those Northern states? Do you
think they do not send us word that they are worse off there than they
are here? That they are treated like dogs by the very men who
pretended to be their friends? That they are excluded from their
churches? That to ride in the same carriage with them is an
abomination--to shake them by the hand--a defilement? Do you think
that we know all these things and then--although all that these
preachers and Abolitionists say is true, holy as the gospel, just as
God himself--do you think, I ask, we give them thanks for what they
say, when their acts do not accord with their words, and we know by
their deeds that they despise and hate us, although they profess to
regard us as brethren, and equal with themselves?"
"Well, well," I answered, "all these abstruse discussions are vain. I
know nothing of your parties in this land; I have nothing to do with
them. I act as I think right myself; and I try to keep my professions
and my deeds upon a par----"
"And so you do," interrupted the man.
"The question now is," I continued, "what have you to tell me
concerning Miss Davenport?"
"You shall hear presently," he answered. "Last night--a terrible night
it was--and nothing but the will of God and His command sustained me
in the dreadful work He had appointed me to do----"
"Forbear! forbear!" I cried, my blood boiling with indignation. "Do
not blaspheme the name of the Lord, by giving His word as a sanction
for the murder, the dark, silent assassination of innocent girls and
babes."
"He sent me forth to destroy," said the man, in a gloomy but still a
solemn tone. "He told me--He Himself, when, like him of old, I lay in
a trance, but having my eyes open--when His visible presence was
before me, and I heard His voice within my soul--He told me that
Christ had laid down the yoke He had borne so long for me, and that I
was to take it up--that Satan and the avenger were loosed, and that I
was to go forth and destroy, sparing neither age nor sex of the
oppressor. Even as He gave commands to the Israelites of old, so gave
He commandment unto me, and the command was to destroy. I have obeyed
it to the uttermost, although my heart often quivered when my hand
struck firmly. Yet, when we had smitten root and branch in Stringer's
house, last night, and I found that Bessy Davenport had escaped, I
rejoiced, while all the others were furious, and I said, 'This is
God's doing.' For she had been like an angel amongst the people--she
had comforted, she had befriended us all. She had sat by my own mother
on her death-bed, and had wiped the cold sweat from her brow, and held
the cool drink to her lips, and spoke the words of comfort in her
ears. She knew no difference between white and black then; and why
should I know any difference now? Yet if I had found her, I would have
killed her too, for it was God's command not to spare. But the Lord
delivered her. It was His doing, and I was grateful."
"Well, well," I cried, somewhat impatiently, "come to the point. It
matters little to me what were your motives; they will be judged by
yourself and others. All that I know is that you and your companions
have murdered in cold blood women and children who could not wrong
you."
"Does not he who kills the serpent tread upon her eggs?" said the man,
gloomily. "Do you suppose we would have another race of oppressors
grow up when we could nip them in the bud? Even worldly policy would
say 'No.' But what have I to do with worldly policy, when I Lave got
God's command in my heart? Did He not tell me to destroy, to smite
them hip and thigh, as soon as I saw the appointed sign in the
heavens? When the sun was darkened at noon-day, I was to commence the
work, and not to withdraw my hand until it was accomplished."
"Foolish man!" I exclaimed; "that was only an eclipse, a thing that
returns continually at fixed and certain periods by the mere movements
of the earth and the moon. But, without argument, what have you to
tell me? Give me the information you promised about Miss Davenport."
He mused for a moment with a very gloomy brow; and although I cannot
of course tell exactly what were his thoughts, I believe that the idea
of the sign in the heavens, on which he laid so much stress, being a
mere natural phenomenon, gave him much discomfort. At length he
murmured, as if speaking to himself,--
"An eclipse!--I have heard of such things. No, no; it was the sign--it
was the sign. Well, well," he continued, turning his face to me; "I
will tell you. Do you remember going out to walk with Bessy Davenport,
and sitting with her under an old tree, and a long conversation you
had with her, and how she wept and told you, though she loved you, she
could never be your wife?--I was very near you then, though you did
not know it."
"I did not, indeed," I replied. "But what of that?"
"Well," responded Turner, "I was sorry for you; for I am not without a
heart, though you may think so. There was something said about a
packet of old letters, and she would not tell you what they contained,
though in them lay the bar between you and her. Well, when the men had
dashed in the door, and we found that she was gone, the others ran
about like mad things seeking for her; but I stood still in the room,
and I saw a packet of old letters lie upon the table. I took it up. It
is the only thing, I have ever taken, except horses and arms; for I do
not rob or steal; but I said to myself--'If ever I see that young
Englishman again, he shall see this, and know the truth. Every man has
a right to know the truth regarding his own fate.' Here it is, you can
take it."
Without rising, he drew the papers from his pocket, and held them
forth to me.
I rose hastily, and incautiously approached him without my arms. He
gave me the paper; but at the same moment some evil spirit seemed to
come over him, for his eyes rolled wildly in his head, and he murmured
in a low, guttural tone--
"Now I could kill you."
"Do not be too sure of that," I answered, retreating.
"Fear not, fear not," he cried. "It is gone. It is a temptation, but
it is over. It is pleasant to see the red blood of our enemies, and
when we have seen it, we like to see more, and it becomes a thirst;
but it is over."
I seated myself by my arms again, and put the papers in my pocket.
"As to this packet," I said, "I thank you for it, and will give it to
Miss Davenport as soon as I find her. You mistake me, however, if you
imagine I will read a word of it before I give it to her. No man of
honour would do so, even if he knew his happiness for life depended on
it. Now, therefore, tell me where she is? What have you and your
people done with her? for I gather from your words that you have not
injured her."
He gazed at me for a moment with a fixed stare, and then asked--
"Do you not know where she is?"
"No," I answered; "but you must know; for you and your people passed
over the very spot where I left her, not five hundred yards from this
place."
He was silent for a moment or two, and then answered coldly,--
"If you do not know, neither do I."
There was something almost sneering in his tone; and starting up with
my weapons in my hand, I exclaimed,--
"Turner, you are telling me a lie."
"A lie!" he cried fiercely, rising likewise; "a lie! and that to me,
the destroying messenger of God, commissioned to bring down the high,
and to raise up the lowly;--to me, who never told anything but truth
in all my life!"
"Ay," I answered angrily, for I felt quite sure he was deceiving me.
"You are telling me a lie; and if you do not instantly let me know
what has become of Miss Davenport, I will send the charge of this gun
through your heart."
He gave a low whistle, and then a laugh; and I had hardly time to
raise the gun to my shoulder, before three stout negroes were by his
side, each with a musket in his hand.
These were somewhat fearful odds; but there was no escape, and I made
up my mind instantly. They might hit, or they might miss me; but I
felt very sure that before I fell, I would have two of their lives.
The right-hand barrel of my gun for Turner himself; the left-hand
barrel for the man next to him: such was the calculation; and then, if
I still survived, I had the sword and the pistol left.
Long deliberation under such circumstances is neither possible nor
necessary. Both hammers were up, my finger was on the trigger,
murderers were before, and the next instant I should have fired at any
risk, and at any odds.
But just at that moment I heard a rushing, rustling sort of sound,
close upon my right hand; and, afraid of being taken on the flank, I
paused and turned my head a little to see who was coming. At the same
moment, a tall, stalwart black man standing on the right of Nat Turner
fired his musket, and I felt the ball go through my hair, and slightly
graze my temple.
"That is one shot lost," I said to myself, drawing back towards the
great tree, and so covering my right side. "He shall not have time to
load again."
But before I could discharge my gun, the space between me and my
adversaries was occupied by two figures which I recognized, indeed,
but not quite distinctly in the excitement of the moment and the
somewhat waning light.