As the sheriff spoke, Mr. Henry Thornton, Billy Byles, and another
gentleman, whose face seemed familiar to me, rode up towards the
cabin, but checked their horses suddenly as they came upon the body of
Robert Thornton, which was still lying where he had fallen. They had
evidently not received full intelligence of what had occurred: for
surprise, as well as horror, was in the expression of their faces. All
three sprang to the ground and gazed at the corpse for a moment in
silence, while I and the sheriff advanced towards them.
"Why this is a terrible consummation!" said Mr. Henry Thornton,
shaking me warmly by the hand. "How did this happen?"
"Nat Turner's work again," said the sheriff, before I could reply;
"and the worst of it is, he has escaped us once more. He made his way
through, and got into the swamp in spite of all we could do, though we
came upon him before the smoke was out of his gun. Old William
Thornton is hard hit too, but he is still living, and would live, if
he were to keep himself quiet, and not curse, and swear, and abuse
everybody."
"I suppose I must be content then," said the stranger, who had some up
with the other two gentlemen; "for I was just going to call this
unfortunate fellow to an account, as I find he has brought suspicion
and discredit upon me, and my back is not sufficiently broad to bear
all that people are inclined to pile upon it already."
"Well, well," said Billy Byles, "there is no use of talking any more
about that, Halliday. All has been explained, and will be explained;
and there lies Bob Thornton, the maker of all the mischief in the
county, not likely to make any more mischief now, I fancy."
"Sir Richard Conway does not recollect me, I presume," said Colonel
Halliday, speaking in a somewhat stiff and formal manner.
"I did not at first, Colonel Halliday," I replied; "but I do now, and
am glad to see you."
"So am I to see you," he answered; "for I have much wished to explain
to you that these two men, though friends of mine from my youth up,
were neither aided nor countenanced by me in their late conduct
towards Miss Davenport. They, and two or three others who were with
them, promised me faithfully to see her safe to Jerusalem, while I
went on to rescue some other young ladies from a somewhat dangerous
position. Perhaps I ought not to have trusted to their word; for, I am
sorry to say, I had known it violated before; but I had no suspicion
at the time of anything like unfair play, and I gave orders to two men
to wait to let you know where Miss Davenport was. They, however, were
frightened away by the arrival of the negroes. I hope this explanation
will be satisfactory to you, sir; but, if it is not, all I can say is,
I am ready."
"Hush! hush! nonsense!" said Mr. Henry Thornton.
And I immediately replied,--
"It is perfectly satisfactory, Colonel Halliday, though it was
unnecessary. Miss Davenport has already done you full justice; and I
easily attributed the conduct which has been pursued to the right
parties, and to the true motives."
"Well, that is all right," said Billy Byles, in his easy, unconcerned
way. "It is as well to get things over one by one; and now that is
settled, what is to be done with this poor fellow's corpse, Mr.
Sheriff? It cannot remain lying here, you know. Had we not better take
it up to the old place?"
"We cannot carry it out of the state," replied the sheriff. "It will
be better to put it out of sight amongst these bushes, till the cart I
have sent for comes down to take the old man up to the house. We can
then remove it to the cabin, and let it await the coroner's inquest
there. In the meantime, Mr. Thornton, will it not be better for you
and Sir Richard to ride over with Miss Bessy to my house? You will
find my sister there, who will take care of the young lady; and if I
might advise, she would not go further to-day, for she must be worn
out with all she has gone through; and, indeed, she looks tired to
death."
"A very good plan," answered Mr. Thornton; "and, at all events, we
will wait at your house till you return, Mr. Sheriff."
An alteration of plan, however, was forced upon us. The horses which
had brought me and Bessy thither were not found for half-an-hour,
having hobbled away three-quarters of a mile into the swamp. And when
they were found and brought back, they had to be saddled for our
journey.
By this time, the cart which had been sent for had arrived, with a
mattress stretched in the bottom. Old Mr. Thornton was carefully
removed from the cabin and placed in the vehicle; and though a good
deal reduced by loss of blood, he still seemed in a highly irritable
and excited condition, cursing the men who moved him, for the pain
they could not avoid inflicting. Three of the men who were present
volunteered to accompany him to the old house; and the sheriff, after
having given directions for sending for a surgeon, prepared with all
the rest to set off together across the marsh.
"Where's old Jenny?" cried the sheriff as we were about to go,
"where's old Jenny? We must not go without her. She is really a good
creature, and tended that unhappy man quite kindly, notwithstanding
all his abuse."
"Here I am, mas'r," cried Jenny, coming out of the hut. "You go 'long,
I'll come after. Nobody hurt me, and I want to lay out Mas'r Robert."
"No, no, Jenny, come along," said the sheriff. "Let him alone; the
coroner must see him just as he is. One of you lads catch that
horse--or the other one there; I suppose they belong to William
Thornton; but we must press one to carry the old woman."
"No, no, I rather walk," said Jenny eagerly. "I'se not ride a
horseback. It bumps me shocking; I'se too fat. If Miss Bessy and Mas'r
Richard stay beside me, I'll walk along wid dem."
Mr. Thornton and several others, however, determined to bear us
company, and to keep at a walking pace across the swamp; but we took a
spare horse along with us in case Jenny, as I knew would happen,
should get tired out before we reached the sheriff's house.
I could have been well pleased if old Aunt Jenny's own plan had been
followed, for I longed for a quiet talk with dear Bessy; and the good
old lady would have afforded no interruption to our conversation. With
Mr. Thornton, however, talking to us the whole way, inquiring into all
that had occurred, and giving us little pieces of intelligence in
return--with Billy Byles whistling one air upon our right, and a young
farmer humming another behind us, anything like private conversation
between the dear girl and myself was of course totally out of the
question. Perhaps it was better as it was; for Bessy was certainly not
in a condition to bear any more agitation; and I, like most other men,
might not have been quite as considerate as I ought, had the
opportunity been afforded to me.
Our journey was, of course, very slow; but it afforded an opportunity
to Mr. Thornton to tell us all that had occurred since I had quitted
the county-town. The insurrection, he said, was now considered
completely at an end; the troops were returning to their several
stations, and but a small body remained at Jerusalem, more to act as
police in apprehending the fugitive malefactors, than to guard against
any renewal of violence. Just as he was setting out, he asked us to
conduct Mrs. Thornton and his family back to their own home, the
sheriff having come in, bringing William Thornton and his son as
prisoners. The outrage they had committed upon the poor unoffending
negroes excited the greatest indignation of the town. General Eppes
had published a vigorous proclamation on the subject, warning the
people to abstain from such barbarous acts; and it was with the
greatest difficulty they could obtain bail for their appearance. They
maintained sturdily that they knew not what had become of Miss
Davenport; and though they admitted that Colonel Halliday had placed
her under their charge, they declared she had quitted their house that
morning, and they knew nothing more. A consultation ensued between Mr.
Thornton and the sheriff, immediately after they had given bail and
left the town. The suspicions of both fixed at once upon the place to
which they had sent poor Bessy, and they arranged together to raise a
large party and pursue the search for her, even into North-Carolina.
They met early in the morning at the sheriff's house; and, somewhat to
the surprise both of Mr. Thornton and Billy Byles, they found Colonel
Halliday of the party. That gentleman, Mr. Thornton went on to say, on
returning from a long reconnoitering expedition, had been exceedingly
irritated to find that Mr. William Thornton had broken his word with
him, and that suspicions had been excited against himself, both in me
and others, in regard to Bessy's disappearance.
"So angry was he," continued Mr. Thornton, "that I thought it
necessary to exact a promise from him, before we suffered him to go
with us, that he would not proceed to any act of violence against
Robert Thornton, if we met with him; for he asserted, what was very
true, that Robert ruled his father completely."
Almost all that occurred after they set out we already knew; for we
had learned from the sheriff that neither he nor any of his party had
the slightest idea that there was a cabin in the neighbourhood of the
road they passed; and that it was only the sight of Matthew Leary
watching them, and the report of two or three guns, which had brought
them up to the spot where William Thornton and his son had fallen.
"I, Byles, and Halliday," resumed Mr. Thornton, "here quitted the
sheriff and the rest about a mile from the spot where we afterwards
found you, and rode on to the old place, which Mr. William Thornton
and his son had quitted but a few minutes before. An old negro, called
Samuel, on Halliday assuring him he would skin him alive if he did not
tell us the truth, informed us that you had been there the night
before, with five or six men, and carried Bessy away with you. His two
masters, he said, had gone to look for you; but it was with the
greatest difficulty that we got him to admit that one of the old women
about the place knew of a small hut, which had been built upon the
line, and had watched you go in that direction. We forced her to give
some explanation where the place lay; and soon after, passing the
sheriff's men on the road, got further directions.
"When we saw the body of Robert Thornton lying dead on the ground, we
very naturally concluded, my dear Sir Richard, that a conflict had
taken place, and you had shot him. I am indeed glad that it was not
so, for this has been a sad business altogether."
"It has indeed," said Bessy Davenport; "the saddest week that Virginia
has ever known."
"Well, my love, we must submit to what God appoints," responded Mr.
Thornton. "And the first thing you have to do, Madam Bessy, is to take
care of yourself, for you are looking quite haggard and old, and you
will never get a husband if you don't put on better looks than that."
Bessy gazed quietly up in my face, and a faint smile played about her
lips; but Mr. Henry Thornton went on without noticing it, saying,--
"You must come home to-morrow, Bessy; and, under your good aunt's
nursing, you will soon get as plump as a little partridge again."
"There, don't you take dat road, Mas'r Thornton," cried aunt Jenny,
who was toiling along after us. "T'other is not quarter of a mile out
of de way, and I do want to see what's become of poor 'Ercles."
"Well bethought, aunty," said Mr. Thornton; "you are a good, kind old
woman; but really we must contrive to get you upon the horse, or we
shall not reach home to-night. I must get to my own house this
evening, Jenny, or the mistress will think we were all lost together."
Poor Jenny, who was really tired by this time, was, with some
difficulty, seated upon the inconvenient saddle; and though, in
compassion to her, we did not perform our cavalry evolutions at very
quick time, we certainly proceeded more rapidly than when she was on
foot.
At the end of about an hour's march after Jenny was mounted, we
reached the dwelling of Mr. William Thornton; and here we found
another very curious exemplification of how rapidly news flies amongst
the negro race in this country. We knew of no one who had crossed the
Swamp in that direction but ourselves, since the fatal events had
occurred at the State-line, for the sheriff had taken the other road;
yet the negroes were now gathered together round the door of Mr.
Thornton's house, evidently agitated by some strong feelings.
"Look at those poor people," I said, addressing Mr. Henry Thornton;
"is it possible any rumour of what has befallen their master can have
reached them?"
"More than probable," answered my friend; "there is no accounting for
the rapid spread of intelligence amongst the negroes. I have been
sometimes really tempted to think that a bird of the air has carried
the tidings. See, here comes one of them to ask us some question."
As he spoke, the girl who the day before had given me the only
indication I could obtain of the direction in which Bessy had been
taken, ran up as we were passing at a little distance from the house,
and inquired, in a tremulous sort of tone,--
"Oh, can it be true, Mas'r Henry, that dere hab been a fight out dere,
and people killed?"
"No fight, my poor girl," answered Mr. Thornton; "but I am sorry to
tell you, Nat Turner and his gang have been at more mischief, and your
master has suffered."
The girl wrung her hands, and then said, in a low voice,--
"And Mas'r Robert?"
"One has been killed, and the other badly wounded," replied Mr.
Thornton. "You will, doubtless, hear more about it soon, and learn
more accurate particulars than I can give you. Who told you anything
of a serious nature had happened?"
On that point, however, as usual, we could obtain no satisfaction. One
negro--and several had now gathered round--had heard it from another,
also present, and he from a third, till it made a complete circle, and
then went round again. It was evident that some or all were lying;
and, giving the question up, Mr. Thornton inquired if they knew
anything of the state of poor Hercules.
"He war very bad dis morning," said one of the men; and the girl shook
her head and looked sad.
"Let us go on, uncle Henry," said Bessy. "I must see the poor fellow
myself. It was in trying to serve me he was injured; and I must see
him."
"Well, Bessy, I will not try to stop you," said her uncle; "although,
my dear child, I much fear you are over-exerting yourself, and must
suffer for all this. Let us go on, however."