I know no more anxious, more irritating, more painful occupation in
the world than that of seeking (when we are apprehensive and doubtful
of the fate of one we love) amongst a great, confused and pre-occupied
crowd, for some traces of the lost one. It has been my fate twice in
life to aid in the search for a strayed child; and the agony of the
father communicated itself, in part at least, to me, and gave me the
power of feeling a portion of all the torture which imagination
inflicted upon him at that moment. Every one we speak to seems so
selfish, so volatile, so obdurate, that we can hardly believe there is
anything like feeling or sympathy in the human breast; when, perhaps,
scanned accurately, our own sensations would be found to be selfish,
and our own accusations return upon our own head. Who could tell, in
that mixed crowd, what were the motives, what the feelings, what the
doubt and dread, which created the sort of fierce anxiety in my heart?
Who could see in my look, or detect in my voice, more than the most
minute portion of that anxiety? Yet, I felt a very unreasonable degree
of anger and irritation at the utter indifference of every one around
me to all that was going on within my breast.
I forced my way, however, onward towards the door of the inn; but
before I reached it, a fresh little party entered in the town, and cut
across my path, presenting that strange mixture of the ludicrous and
the horrible, which is, perhaps, more dreadful than the purely tragic.
Doctor Blunt, the whole of the party from his house, and two or three
mounted dragoons, who had joined them somewhere on the way, were
bringing the prisoners, now increased to three by the presence of one
of the wounded men, who had recovered sufficiently to walk into the
county capital. First came two or three horsemen, and some more armed
men brought up the rear; but between the two bodies of whites marched
the poor black fellows who had been taken, very much as they had
appeared when they attacked the house, except that their muskets had
been cast away. The first of the negroes (for they marched in single
file) was the man whom I had captured myself, with a gay scarf over
his shoulders, and a handsome regimental sword by his side, which I
had not thought it worth while to take away. He carried something in
his hands, which I could not distinguish clearly till he came into the
blaze of the torches; and then, to my disgust and horror, I saw that
it was the bloody head of one of his late companions--the very head
which had so strongly excited the scientific enthusiasm of the
phrenologist, who had doubtless cut it off, before he quitted the
scene of strife, to place the skull as a specimen in his collection.
The party halted directly opposite the inn door, and several of the
officers, who were gathered together there, advanced to take a look at
the prisoners. One of them seemed to recognize the man with the head,
but that attracted his professional eye but little. The scarf and the
sword were "matter more attractive;" and, giving a light touch to the
hilt of the latter, he said,--
"Why, Nelson, where did you get this?"
The negro instantly raised the swarthy head in his hands in the full
torchlight, and replied,--
"This here gentleman gave it me last night."
A loud burst of laughter, very horrible to hear, broke from the whole
party round at the idea of the man's calling a dead negro's head "this
here gentleman;" and I must say, the captive negroes themselves, with
the certainty of being hanged within a few days after, joined in the
laugh as heartily as any of the rest. I could not do so; and pushing
my way through the throng, I entered the inn.
The passage was crowded to suffocation; the bar, which lay on the
right hand, was surrounded by a mob, two-thirds of whom were drunk,
and the rest hardly sober; and before I had taken ten steps through
the mass, I had been invited to drink at least as many times by
persons I had never seen in my life before. I remarked that they did
not seem at all pleased when their invitation was declined; but I was
in no very polite mood, even if I had been at any time inclined to get
drunk for the pleasure of strangers; and I made my way straight for
the foot of a staircase, round the bottom of which the crowd was
reeling to and fro, not quite so densely packed together.
Four or five steps up, supported by two strapping mulatto wenches, was
a stout, well-fattened white woman, whom I judged, by her dress, to be
the mistress of the house. The moment I set my foot upon the stairs,
however, she screamed at me in a tone calculated to drown all the din
below.
"You can't go up, sir. The whole above-stairs is occupied by ladies;
and as some of them have nought but their night-dresses on, they don't
want no company."
"But, my good madam," I said, "I saw two or three gentlemen amongst
the ladies in the balcony."
"That's nothing here nor there," answered the Amazon. "Them gentlemen
have brought in friends, and have a right to stay with them."
"But I have a friend here, too," I answered, "and I want to see her. I
will see her, too. I think you mistake me for some of those people who
have been drinking at your bar; but there you are in error. My name is
Sir Richard Conway, and----"
"Sir Richard this, or Sir Richard that!" cried the woman, "is no
matter to me. You can't go up, so that's enough, and shouldn't if you
were Lord Dunmore."
"I want to speak with Miss Davenport," I replied; "to hear of her
safety, and to inquire if I can serve her in any way further."
"Miss Davenport!" cried the hostess, in a tone somewhat mollified.
"Why, I didn't know that Bessy Davenport was here--have you seen her,
Imoinda? Why, I thought she was killed in Stringer's house."
"That she certainly was not," I answered, hating the great, fat,
coarse woman from the bottom of my heart; "she and I escaped from Mr.
Stringer's house together--I am her near relation, you know."
"Oh, ay," cried the woman, still screaming at the top of her voice, in
order to be heard above the din; "you are her English cousin who shot
Bob Thornton. But you can't go up for all that."
I felt the greatest possible inclination to take her by the back of
the neck, and pitch her down amongst the mob below. But refraining
with an ill grace, I said--
"I have every reason to believe that Miss Davenport was escorted here
some short time ago by Colonel Halliday; but I am not sure of it, and
I am determined to ascertain whether she is safe or not. So now, good
woman, you shall either satisfy me on that point, or I will bring the
sheriff to make you."
"Good woman!" cried the hostess, with her face all in a blaze. "You
saucy coon! Why do you call me 'good woman?' My husband, the colonel,
shall 'good woman' you. Do you think that you English have got the
dominion in the land still? No, no! I think we taught you better, when
we whipped you all through the country. 'Good woman,' indeed!"
"Why, surely, you would not have me call you _bad_ woman, would you?"
I retorted, a good deal irritated. "But I see, I must bring some one
who will be able to persuade you better than I can."
And descending the two or three stairs which I had mounted, I once
more forced my way through the crowd in search of the sheriff.
That gentleman, however, was no longer to be seen in any of the
various groups immediately in front of the house. I just caught a
glance of Billy Byles as I passed out of the inn; but he was speaking
to some lady up in the balcony above, and I passed on without
interrupting him.
From one little knot of people to another I went; and perhaps at any
other moment, with a disembarrassed mind, the strange medley of men of
wealth and men of none; of men of education and men without; of men of
refined habits and men of the coarsest manners; and the perfect
familiarity which existed between them all--would have given occasion
for much speculation in my mind as an Englishman. But I was too much
occupied with the one predominant idea to think of anything else, and
I exhausted nearly half an hour in searching for the sheriff in vain.
I was just turning back to the inn, when some one called me.
"Sir Richard, Sir Richard," said a voice. And, looking round, I
perceived Mr. Byles coming up from the side of the marketplace I had
just left.
"I have been looking for you everywhere," he said. "Louisa Thornton
wishes to speak to you. They are all here, except Mr. Henry Thornton
himself. He determined, like Doctor Blunt, to stay in his own house
and stand it out, with some friends he has got there. Mrs. Thornton is
frightened out of her wits, and gone to bed, but Lou said she would
remain in the balcony till I brought you."
I explained to him briefly, as we walked along, the anxiety of my mind
in regard to Bessy Davenport, and the obstinate refusal of the
landlady to let me pass upstairs in search of her.
"Oh, the old jade!" said Billy Byles, "she's a perfect Turk. They
should call _her_ the colonel instead of her husband, who is as meek
as Moses, poor man! She would not let me pass either, though I coaxed
and bullied, and did all sorts of things. But it is about Bessy
Davenport that Louisa wants to speak to you. She says she is certainly
not in the inn."
My heart sank again; but I hurried on, and soon stood under the place
where Miss Thornton was leaning over the balcony.
"I wanted to tell you, Sir Richard," said Miss Thornton, after a few
words of ordinary courtesy, "that Bessy is certainly not here. Where
did you leave her?"
I explained to her all that had occurred, and the reasons I had for
supposing she might have been brought into the town by Colonel
Halliday and his party.
"Perhaps she may be in some of the other houses," said Miss Thornton,
"for they are all full; and everybody, all over the place, seems to be
searching for some one lost in the confusion of this terrible day. But
I hope and trust that no harm has happened to her, as you left old
Jenny with her."
While we had been speaking, a little crowd had gathered round Mr.
Byles and myself; for I must remark that nobody in the United States
appears to comprehend that any other person can have private business
with which he has nothing to do; and you must lock your door very
tight, if you would not have others come and listen to what you have
to say.
One of the gentlemen who was standing by here joined in our
conversation saying,--
"Colonel Halliday, I am sorry to tell you, did not bring in Miss
Davenport. I saw him just as he came in about an hour ago. He had with
him two negroes, whom he had captured, and three young ladies, whom he
had brought from houses along the road--Miss Corwin and the two Miss
Joneses; but I know Miss Davenport was not there, for I stopped and
talked to them for a minute."
Here at once was knocked away every frail prop and support on which I
had built my hopes and expectations. Hope was indeed not destroyed;
for hope is immortal, reaching to the grave and beyond the grave. Yet
there was no resting-place for her footsteps; a light, pale and faint
though not extinguished, flitted, wandering like an _ignis fatuus_,
over a wild, an insecure ground, where there was no path to guide, no
solid basis to support. Where was she? What had become of her? Who
could tell? The glimmering light rested principally upon one point
alone. No corpse had been found in the wood: no trace of the
sanguinary acts which had left terrible witnesses behind them wherever
they had been perpetrated. But a faint hope, though not so full of
temporary distress, is, perhaps, more agitating, more engrossing than
a painful certainty.
Billy Byles and the gentleman who had just spoken continued to
converse for some minutes, without my hearing or attending to anything
that passed between them. I believe that Louisa Thornton spoke to me
from the balcony above; but I fear I did not answer her. Standing with
my eyes fixed on the ground, and my thoughts bitterly preoccupied, I
saw, I heard nothing, and it was not till Mr. Byles touched my arm,
saying,--"That is a good thought; let us try it," that I woke from
this dreadful reverie.
"What is?" I asked; "I did not hear."
"Why," answered Billy Byles, "Captain Wilson proposes we should go
down to the old block-house, erected in revolutionary times to defend
the river, and where the prisoners are confined, and examine them as
to what became of Miss Bessy. Those we took at Doctor Blunt's must be
the same who passed over the ground where you left her; and the devils
will tell at the first question, for they have all got a looseness of
tongue which prevents them from having any concealments. That is the
difference between an Irishman and a negro; the one, pretending to
tell all, tells nothing, for fear he should hurt himself or his
hundred-and-fiftieth cousin; the other tells everything, without
caring whether he implicates his own life or that of a dozen more."
"Let us go," I cried, seizing upon the suggestion eagerly; for I was a
drowning man, and a straw seemed some support. "Which is the way to
this place?"
Billy Byles hade Miss Thornton adieu in tones which implied that his
suit had prospered, and then led me across the market-place towards
the banks of the little river which flowed past the town. Here we came
to a small stockaded house, which had served in former times to defend
the stream, and before which two sentinels, with muskets on their
shoulders, were sedately walking. Only another person was visible,
who, though he attracted but little of my attention, seemed
considerably to excite that of Billy Byles.
"Hang me," he said, "if I do not believe that is Colonel M----. What
can he be doing there, down by the side of the river with a spade in
his hand? Why, he has got a basket there too."
"Never mind," I answered; "we have something more important to think
of." And advancing towards the block-house, not without turning his
head several times, he demanded admission, which was immediately
granted. We had no light but the moon; and the black faces of the
handcuffed prisoners were not very easily distinguished, the one from
the other.
"Which is Nelson?" demanded Billy Byles.
"I'se he," answered one of the men, advancing.
"Well now, Nel," said my companion, "we have got a question or two to
ask you; and what you say, if you tell us the truth, shall not be used
against you, but rather in your favour. But if you tell us lies, hang
me if I don't cut your throat with my own hands."
"I tell de truth, Master Byles, be you sure of dat," answered the man
in a bold tone. "Everybody knows what I have done, and here I am; no
use of telling of lies now."
"Well, then, tell us exactly," answered Billy Byles, "all that
happened after five o'clock this evening, till the time when you
marched upon Doctor Blunt's house."
I cannot follow the negro's jargon through the long account he gave of
the events of those few hours. The substance was as follows:--The
party of Nat Turner, after having advanced towards Jerusalem, and
having been met by a severe fire from a party of white men on the
road, retreated in good order through the by-paths of the wood, known
to few but themselves. When they came to the meeting of the two paths
I have mentioned, they found they had been outflanked by a party of
horse in pursuit. They saw well enough, he said, a smoke rising up in
the wood, though they could not tell whether the fire had been lighted
by their own people or by an enemy. Knowing, however, that smoke would
attract the attention of the white men, they determined to leave it on
their left, and to take shelter amongst the bushes in the thicker part
of the wood, being certain that they could not outstrip their pursuers
before they came to the open ground. Signals were agreed upon; Nat
Turner, who, according to his account, was perfectly calm and
confident, laid himself down at the foot of the tree where I had found
him, and the rest concealed themselves in the thick bushes. There they
lay till after I came up. Nelson stoutly denied having seen any woman
in the whole course of their retreat. Nothing could make him swerve
from this assertion. When, remembering the two tracks I had seen, the
one to the right, the other to the left, at the thick laurel-brake, I
asked if his party had not divided into two. This he denied, stating
that they had pursued one undeviating course, and had merely scattered
themselves round their leader, when they found a sure place of
concealment.
At length, I put the questions to him straightforwardly, whether he
knew Miss Bessy Davenport? whether he had seen her during the
preceding day?
He answered he had known her ever since she was a child, and
positively asserted that they had seen nothing of her.
"We hunted for her at Mr. Stringer's," he said, "for we had heard that
she was there; and Will wanted to kill her, though Nat did not. But we
could not find her, and we never saw her at all."
After the pause of a moment or two, during which I and my companion
remained silent, the man looked up in my face, saying,--
"I dare say, if you want to find her, master, some of old Miss Bab's
servants can help you. Depend upon it, they know all about it."
Here was both a renewal of hope, and some clue to guide me; but the
light was faint, and the clue somewhat frail.