As the afternoon had worn away, and whilst the two principals in the
affair were arranging their matters, the Major had been taking every
precaution to carry out the plan for the meeting. The effect of the
approaching duel upon the old gentleman was somewhat remarkable. He was
in unusually high spirits; his rosy countenance wore an expression of
humorous content; and, from time to time as he bustled about, a smile
flitted across his face, or a chuckle sounded from the depths of his
satin stock. He fell in with Miss Jemima, and related to her a series
of anecdotes respecting duelling and homicide generally, so lurid in
their character that she groaned over the depravity of a region where
such barbarity was practised; but when he solemnly informed her that he
felt satisfied from the signs of the time that some one would be shot
in the neighborhood before twenty-four hours were over, the old lady
determined to return home next day.
It was not difficult to secure secrecy, as the Major had given
directions that no one should be admitted to the garden.
For at least an hour before sunset he had been giving directions to
George Washington which that dignitary would have found some difficulty
in executing, even had he remained sober; but which, in his existing
condition, was as impossible as for him to change the kinks in his
hair. The Major had solemnly assured him that if he got drunk he would
shoot him on the spot, and George Washington had as solemnly consented
that he would gladly die if he should be found in this unprecedented
condition. Immediately succeeding which, however, under the weight
of the momentous matters submitted to him, he had, after his habit,
sought aid and comfort of his old friends, the Major's decanters, and
he was shortly in that condition when he felt that the entire universe
depended upon him. He blacked his shoes at least twenty times, and
marched back and forth in the yard with such portentous importance that
the servants instinctively shrunk away from his august presence. One
of the children, in their frolics, ran against him; George Washington
simply said, "Git out my way," and without pausing in his gait or
deigning to look at him, slapped him completely over.
A maid ventured to accost him jocularly to know why he was so finely
dressed. George Washington overwhelmed her with a look of such infinite
contempt and such withering scorn that all the other servants forthwith
fell upon her for "interferin' in Unc' George Wash'n'ton's business."
At last the Major entered the garden and bade George Washington follow
him; and George Washington having paid his twentieth visit to the
dining-room, and had a final interview with the liquor-case, and having
polished up his old beaver anew, left the office by the side door,
carrying under his arm a mahogany box about two feet long and one foot
wide, partially covered with a large linen cloth. His beaver hat was
cocked on the side of his head, with an air supposed to be impressive.
He wore the Major's coat and flowered velvet waistcoat respecting
which he had won so signal a victory in the morning, and he flaunted a
large bandanna handkerchief, the ownership of which he had transferred
still more recently. The Major's orders to George Washington were to
convey the box to the garden in a secret manner, but George Washington
was far too much impressed with the importance of the part he bore in
the affair to lose the opportunity of impressing the other servants.
Instead, therefore, of taking a by-path, he marched ostentatiously
through the yard with a manner which effected his object, if not
his master's, and which struck the entire circle of servants with
inexpressible awe. However, after he gained the garden and reached a
spot where he was no longer in danger of being observed by any one,
he adopted a manner of the greatest secrecy, and proceeded to the
place selected for the meeting with a degree of caution which could
not have been greater had he been covertly stealing his way through a
band of hostile Indians. The spot chosen for the meeting was a grass
plot bounded on three sides by shrubbery and on the fourth by the wall
of the little square within which had been laid to rest the mortal
remains of some half dozen generations of the Burwells. Though the
grass was green and the sky above was of the deep steely hue which the
late afternoon brings; yet the thick shrubbery which secluded the place
gave it an air of wildness, and the tops of the tall monuments gleaming
white over the old wall against the dark cedars, added an impression
of ghostliness which had long caused the locality to be generally
avoided by the negroes from the time that the afternoon shadows began
to lengthen.
George Washington, indeed, as he made his way stealthily down towards
the rendezvous glanced behind him once or twice as if he were not at
all certain that some impalpable pursuer were not following him, and he
almost jumped out of his shoes when the Major, who had for ten minutes
been pacing up and down the grass-plat in a fume of impatience, caught
sight of him and suddenly shouted, "Why don't you come on, you--rascal?"
As soon as George Washington recognized that the voice was not
supernatural, he recovered his courage and at once disarmed the Major,
who, watch in hand, was demanding if he supposed he had nothing else
to do than to wait for him all night, by falling into his vein and
acquiescing in all that he said in abuse of the yet absent duellists,
or at least of one of them.
He spoke in terms of the severest reprobation of Mr. Lawrence,
declaring that he had never had a high opinion of his courage, or,
indeed, of any quality which he possessed. He was, perhaps, not quite
prepared to join in an attack on Jeff, of whose frequent benefactions
he entertained a lively recollection amounting to gratitude, at least
in the accepted French idea of that virtue, and as he had constituted
himself Jeff's especial representative for this "solemn recasion," he
felt a personal interest in defending him to some extent.
At last the Major ordered him to take out the weapons and some little
time was spent in handling them, George Washington examining them with
the air of a connoisseur. The Major asserted that he had never seen a
prettier spot, and George Washington, immediately striking an attitude,
echoed the sentiment. He was, indeed, so transported with its beauty
that he declared it reminded him of the duel he and the Major fought
with Judge Carrington, which he positively declared, was "a jewel like
you been read about," and he ended with the emphatic assertion, "Ef
dese gent'mens jes plump each urr like we did de Judge dat evelin!----"
A wave of the hand completed the period.
The Major turned on him with a positive denial that he had ever even
shot at the Judge, but George Washington unblushingly insisted that
they had, and in fact had shot him twice. "We hit him fyah an' squar'."
He levelled a pistol at a tree a few yards distant, and striking an
attitude, squinted along the barrel with the air of an old hand at the
weapon.
The Major reiterated his statement and recalled the fact that, as he
had told him and others a thousand times, they had shaken hands on the
spot, which George Washington with easy adaptability admitted, but
claimed that "ef he hadn't 'a'shook hands we'd 'a'shot him, sho! Dis
here gent'man ain' gwine git off quite so easy," he declared, having
already decided that Lawrence was to experience the deadly accuracy
of his and Jeff's aim. He ended with an unexpected "Hic!" and gave a
little lurch, which betrayed his condition, but immediately gathered
himself together again.
The Major looked at him quizzically as he stood pistols in hand in all
the grandeur of his assumed character. The shadow of disappointment at
the non-appearance of the duellists which had rested on his round face,
passed away, and he suddenly asked him which way he thought they had
better stand. George Washington twisted his head on one side and, after
striking a deliberative attitude and looking the plat well over, gave
his judgment.
"Ah--so," said the Major, and bade him step off ten paces.
George Washington cocked his hat considerably more to the side, and
with a wave of his hand, caught from the Major, took ten little
mincing steps; and without turning, glanced back over his shoulder and
inquired, "Ain' dat mighty fur apart?"
The Major stated that it was necessary to give them some chance. And
this appeared to satisfy him, for he admitted, "Yas, suh, dat's so, dee
'bleeged to have a chance," and immediately marked a point a yard or
more short of that to which he had stepped.
The Major then announced that he would load the pistols without waiting
for the advent of the other gentlemen, as he "represented both of them."
This was too much for so accomplished an adept at the Code as George
Washington, and he immediately asserted that such a thing was
preposterous, asking with some scorn, as he strutted up and down, "Who
ever heah o' one gent'man ripresentin' two in a jewel, Marse Nat?"
The Major bowed politely. "I was afraid it was a little incompatible,"
he said.
"Of cose it's incomfatible," said George Washington. "I ripresents one
and you de t'urr. Dat's de way! I ripresents _Marse Jeff_. I know _he_
ain' gwine fly de track. I done know him from a little lad. Dat urr
gent'man I ain' know nuttin tall about. You ripresents him." He waved
his hand in scorn.
"Ah!" said the Major, as he set laboriously about loading the pistols,
handling the balls somewhat ostentatiously.
George Washington asserted, "I b'lieve I know mo' 'bout the Code 'n you
does, Marse Nat."
The Major looked at him quizzically as he rammed the ball down hard. He
was so skilful that George at length added condescendingly, "But I see
you ain' forgit how to handle dese things."
The Major modestly admitted, as he put on a cap, that he used to be a
pretty fair shot, and George Washington in an attitude as declarative
of his pride in the occasion as his inebriated state admitted, was
looking on with an expression of supreme complacency, when the Major
levelled the weapon and sighted along its barrel. George Washington
gave a jump which sent his cherished beaver bouncing twenty feet.
"Look out, Marse Nat! Don' handle dat thing so keerless, please, suh."
The Major explained that he was just trying its weight, and declared
that it "came up beautifully;" to which George Washington after he had
regained his damaged helmet assented with a somewhat unsteady voice.
The Major looked at his watch and up at the trees, the tops of which
were still brightened with the reflection from the sunset sky, and
muttered an objurgation at the failure of the principals to appear,
vowing that he never before knew of a similar case, and that at least
he had not expected Jeff to fail to come to time. George Washington
again proudly announced that he represented Jeff and that it was "that
urr gent'man what had done fly de track, that urr gent'man what you
ripresents, Marse Nat." He spoke with unveiled contempt.
The Major suddenly turned on him.
"George Washington!"
"Suh!" He faced him.
"If my principal fails to appear, I must take his place. The rule is,
the second takes the place of his non-appearing principal."
"In cose dat's de rule," declared George Washington as if it were
his own suggestion; "de secon' tecks de place o' de non-repearin'
sprinciple, and dat's what mecks me say what I does, dat man is done
run away, suh, dat's what's de motter wid him. He's jes' natchelly
skeered. He couldn' face dem things, suh." He nodded towards the
pistols, his thumbs stuck in the armholes of his flowered velvet vest.
As the Major bowed George Washington continued with a hiccough, "He
ain' like we gent'mens whar's ust to 'em an' don' mine 'em no mo' 'n
pop-crackers."
"George Washington," said the Major, solemnly, with his eyes set on
George Washington's velvet waistcoat, "take your choice of these
pistols."
The old duellist made his choice with due deliberation. The Major
indicated with a wave of his hand one of the spots which George had
marked for the expected duellists. "Take your stand there, sir." George
Washington marched grandly up and planted himself with overwhelming
dignity, whilst the Major, with the other pistol in his hand, quietly
took his stand at the other position, facing him.
"George," he said, "George Washington."
"Suh." George Washington was never so imposing.
"My principal, Mr. Pickering Lawrence, having failed to appear at the
designated time and place to meet his engagement with Mr. Jefferson
Lewis, I, as his second and representative, offer myself to take his
place and assume any and all of his obligations."
George Washington bowed grandly.
"Yes, suh, of cose,--dat is accordin' to de Code," he said with
solemnity befitting the occasion.
The Major proceeded.
"And your principal, Mr. Jefferson Lewis, having likewise failed to
appear at the proper time, you take his place."
"Suh," ejaculated George Washington, in sudden astonishment, turning
his head slightly as if he were not certain he had heard correctly,
"Marse Nat, jis say dat agin, please, suh?"
The Major elevated his voice and advanced his pistol slightly.
"I say, your principal, Mr. Jefferson Lewis, having in like manner
failed to put in his appearance at the time and place agreed on for the
meeting, you as his representative take his place and assume all his
obligations."
"Oh! nor, suh, I don't!" exclaimed George Washington, shaking his head
so violently that the demoralized beaver fell off again and rolled
around unheeded. "I ain' bargain for no sich thing as dat. Nor, suh!"
But the Major was obdurate.
"Yes, sir, you do. When you accept the position of second, you assume
all the obligations attaching to that position, and----" the Major
advanced his pistol--"I shall shoot at you."
George Washington took a step towards him. "Oh! goodness! Marse Nat,
you ain' gwine do nuttin like dat, is you!" His jaw had fallen, and
when the Major bowed with deep solemnity and replied, "Yes, sir, and
you can shoot at me," he burst out.
"Marse Nat, I don' warn' shoot at you. What I warn' shoot at you for?
I ain' got nuttin 'ginst you on de fatal uth. You been good master to
me all my days an'----" The Major cut short this sincere tribute to his
virtues, by saying: "Very well, you can shoot or not as you please. I
shall aim at that waistcoat." He raised his pistol and partially closed
one eye. George Washington dropped on his knees.
"Oh, Marse Nat, please, suh. What you want to shoot me for? Po' ole
good-fornuttin George Washington, whar ain' nuver done you no harm"
(the Major's eye glanced over his blue coat and flowered vest; George
saw it), "but jes steal you' whiskey an' you' clo'es an'--Marse Nat,
ef you le' me off dis time I oon nuver steal no mo' o' you' clo'es,
er you' whiskey, er nuttin. Marse Nat, you wouldn' shoot po' ole
good-for-nuttin George Washington, whar fotch' up wid you?"
"Yes, sir, I would," declared the Major, sternly. "I am going to give
the word, and--" he raised the pistol once more.
George Washington began to creep toward him. "Oh, Lordy! Marse Nat,
please, suh, don' pint dat thing at me dat away--hit's loaded! Oh,
Lordy!" he shouted. The Major brandished his weapon fiercely.
"Stand up, sir, and stop that noise--one--two--three," he counted, but
George Washington was flat on the ground.
"Oh, Marse Nat, please, suh, don't. I'se feared o' dem things." A
sudden idea struck him. "Marse Nat, you is about to loss a mighty
valuable nigger," he pleaded; but the Major simply shouted to him
to stand up and not disgrace the gentleman he represented. George
Washington seized on the word; it was his final hope.
"Marse Nat, I don't ripresent nobody, suh, nobody at all, suh. I ain'
nuttin but a good-for-nuttin, wuthless nigger, whar brung de box down
heah cuz you tole me to, suh, dat's all. An' I'll teck off you' coat
an' weskit dis minit ef you'll jis le' me git up off de groun', suh."
Jeff suddenly appeared. George lay spraddled out on the ground as flat
as a field lark, but at Jeff's appearance, he sprang behind him. Jeff,
in amazement, was inquiring the meaning of all the noise he had heard,
when Lawrence appeared on the scene. The Major explained briefly.
"It was that redoubtable champion bellowing. As our principals failed
to appear on time, he being an upholder of the Code, suggested that we
were bound to take the places respectively of those we represented----"
"Nor, suh, I don' ripresent nobody," interrupted George Washington; but
at a look from the Major he dodged again behind Jeff. The Major, with
his eye on Lawrence, said:
"Well, gentlemen, let's to business. We have but a few minutes of
daylight left. I presume you are ready?"
Both gentlemen bowed, and the Major proceeded to explain that he had
loaded both pistols himself with precisely similar charges, and that
they were identical in trigger, sight, drift, and weight, and had been
tested on a number of occasions, when they had proved to be "excellent
weapons and remarkably accurate in their fire." The young men bowed
silently; but when he turned suddenly and called "George Washington,"
that individual nearly jumped out of his coat. The Major ordered him
to measure ten paces, which, after first giving notice that he "didn't
ripresent nobody," he proceeded to do, taking a dozen or more gigantic
strides, and hastily retired again behind the safe bulwark of Jeff's
back. As he stood there in his shrunken condition, he about as much
resembled the pompous and arrogant duellist of a half-hour previous
as a wet and bedraggled turkey does the strutting, gobbling cock of
the flock. The Major, with an objurgation at him for stepping "as
if he had on seven league boots," stepped off the distance himself,
explaining to Lawrence that ten paces was about the best distance, as
it was sufficiently distant to "avoid the unpleasantness of letting a
gentleman feel that he was within touching distance," and yet "near
enough to avoid useless mutilation."
Taking out a coin, he announced that he would toss up for the choice
of position, or rather would make a "disinterested person" do so, and,
holding out his hand, he called George Washington to toss it up. There
was no response until the Major shouted, "George Washington, where are
you--you rascal!"
"Heah me, suh," said George Washington, in a quavering voice, rising
from the ground, where he had thrown himself to avoid any stray
bullets, and coming slowly forward, with a pitiful, "Please, suh, don'
p'int dat thing dis away."
The Major gave him the coin, with an order to toss it up, in a tone so
sharp that it made him jump; and he began to turn it over nervously
in his hand, which was raised a little above his shoulder. In his
manipulation it slipped out of his hand and disappeared. George
Washington in a dazed way looked in his hand, and then on the ground.
"Hi! whar' hit?" he muttered, getting down on his knees and searching
in the grass. "Dis heah place is evil-sperited."
The Major called to him to hurry up, but he was too intent on solving
the problem of the mysterious disappearance of the quarter.
"I ain' nuver like dis graveyard bein' right heah," he murmured. "Marse
Nat, don' you have no mo' to do wid dis thing."
The Major's patience was giving out. "George Washington, you rascal!"
he shouted, "do you think I can wait all night for you to pull up all
the grass in the garden? Take the quarter out of your pocket, sir!"
"'Tain' in my pocket, suh," quavered George Washington, feeling there
instinctively, however, when the coin slipped down his sleeve into
his hand again. This was too much for him. "Hi! befo' de king," he
exclaimed, "how it git in my pocket? Oh, Marster! de devil is 'bout
heah, sho'! Marse Nat, you fling it up, suh. I ain' nuttin but a po'
sinful nigger. Oh, Lordy!" And handing over the quarter tremulously,
George Washington flung himself flat on the ground and, as a sort of
religious incantation, began to chant in a wild, quavering tone the
funeral hymn:
"Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound."
The Major tossed up and posted the duellists, and with much solemnity
handed them the pistols, which both the two young men received
quietly. They were pale, but perfectly steady. The Major then asked
them, "Gentlemen, are you ready?" whilst at the ominous sound George
Washington's voice in tremulous falsetto, struck in,
"Ye-ee--so-ons off meenn co-ome view-ew the-ee groun',
Wher-ere you-ou m--uss' shor-ort-ly lie."
They announced themselves ready just as George Washington, looking up
from the ground, where he, like the "so-ons off meenn," was lying,
discovered that he was not more than thirty yards out of the line of
aim, and with a muttered "Lordy!" began to crawl away.
There was a confused murmur from the direction of the path which led to
the house, and the Major shouted, "Fire--one--two--three."
Both young men, facing each other and looking steadily in each other's
eyes, with simultaneous action fired their pistols into the air.
At the report a series of shrieks rang out from the shrubbery towards
the house, whilst George Washington gave a wild yell and began to kick
like a wounded bull, bellowing that he was "killed--killed."
The Major had just walked up to the duellists, and, relieving them of
their weapons, had with a comprehensive wave of the hand congratulated
them on their courage and urged them to shake hands, which they were
in the act of doing, when the shrubbery parted and Margaret, followed
closely by Rose and by Miss Jemima panting behind, rushed in upon them,
crying at the tops of their voices, "Stop! Stop!"
The two young ladies addressed themselves respectively to Jeff and
Lawrence, and both were employing all their eloquence when Miss Jemima
appeared. Her eye caught the prostrate form of George Washington, who
lay flat on his face kicking and groaning at intervals. She pounced
upon the Major with so much vehemence that he was almost carried away
by the sudden onset.
"Oh! You wretch! What have you done?" she panted, scarcely able to
articulate.
"Done, madam?" asked the Major, gravely.
"Yes; what have you done to _that_ poor miserable creature--_there!_"
She actually seized the Major and whirled him around with one hand,
whilst with the other she pointed at the prostrate and now motionless
George Washington.
"What have I been doing with him?"
"Yes, with _him_. Have you been carrying out your barbarous rite on his
inoffensive person!" she gasped.
The Major's eye lit up.
"Yes, madam," he said, taking up one of the pistols, "and I rejoice
that you are here to witness its successful termination. George
Washington has been selected as the victim this year; his monstrous
lies, his habitual drunken worthlessness, his roguery, culminating
in the open theft to-day of my best coat and waistcoat, marked him
naturally as the proper sacrifice. I had not the heart to cheat any
one by selling him to him. I was therefore constrained to shoot him.
He was, with his usual triflingness, not killed at the first fire,
although he appears to be dead. I will now finish him by putting a ball
into his back; observe the shot." He advanced, and cocking the pistol,
"click--click," stuck it carefully in the middle of George Washington's
fat back. Miss Jemima gave a piercing shriek and flung herself on the
Major to seize the pistol; but she might have spared herself; for
George Washington suddenly bounded from the ground and, with one glance
at the levelled weapon, rushed crashing through the shrubbery, followed
by the laughter of the young people, the shrieks of Miss Jemima, and
the shouts of the Major for him to come back and let him kill him.
* * * * *
That evening, when Margaret, seated on the Major's knee, was rummaging
in his vest pockets for any loose change which might be there (which
by immemorial custom belonged to her), she suddenly pulled out two
large, round bullets. The Major seized them; but it was too late. When,
however, he finally obtained possession of them he presented them to
Miss Jemima, and solemnly requested her to preserve them as mementoes
of George Washington's miraculous escape.