CHAPTER XIII.
THE RAILWAY STATION.
A large hotel, or station-house, and about a dozen log shanties made upthe village. Two of these structures were negro-cabins; two were smallgroceries, in which the vilest alcoholic compounds were sold at a bit(ten cents) a glass; one was a lawyer's office, in which was thepost-office, and a justice's court, where, once a month, the smalloffenders of the vicinity "settled up their accounts;" one was atailoring and clothing establishment, where breeches were patched at adime a stitch, and payment taken in tar and turpentine; and the restwere private dwellings of one apartment, occupied by the grocers, thetailor, the switch-tenders, the postmaster, and the negro _attaches_ ofthe railroad. The church and the school-house--the first buildings to goup in a Northern village--I have omitted to enumerate, because--theywere not there.
One of the natives told me that the lawyer was a "stuck-up critter;" "hedon't live; he don't--he puts-up at th' hotel." And the hotel! WouldShakspeare, had he have known it, have written of taking one's _ease_ athis inn? It was a long, framed building, two stories high, with apiazza extending across the side and a front door crowded as closelyinto one corner as the width of the joist would permit. Under thepiazza, ranged along the wall, was a low bench, occupied by about fortytin wash-basins and water-pails, and with coarse, dirty crash towelssuspended on rollers above it. By the side of each of these towels hunga comb and a brush, to which a lock of everybody's hair was clinging,forming in the total a stock sufficient to establish any barber in thewig business.
It was, as I have said, ten o'clock when we reached the Station.Throwing the bridles of our horses over the hitching-posts at the door,we at once made our way to the bar-room. That apartment, which was inthe rear of the building, and communicated with by a long, narrowpassage, was filled almost to suffocation, when we entered, by a cloudof tobacco smoke, the fumes of bad whiskey, and a crowd of drunkenchivalry, through whom the Colonel with great difficulty elbowed his wayto the counter, where "mine host" and two assistants were dispensing"liquid death," at the rate of ten cents a glass, and of ten glasses aminute.
"Hello, Cunnel, how ar' ye," cried the red-faced liquor-vender, as hecaught sight of my companion, and, relinquishing his lucrativeemployment for a moment, took the Colonel's hand, "how ar' ye?"
"Quite well, thank you, Miles," said the Colonel, with a certainpatronizing air, "have you seen my man, Moye?"
"Moye, no! What's up with him?"
"He's run away with my horse, Firefly--I thought he would have made forthis station. At what time does the next train go up?"
"Wal, it's due half arter 'leven, but 'taint gin'rally 'long till nighone."
The Colonel was turning to join me at the door, when a well-dressedyoung man of very unsteady movements, who was filling a glass at thecounter, and staring at him with a sort of dreamy amazement, stammeredout, "Moye--run--run a--way, zir! that--k--kant be--by G--. I know--him,zir--he's a--a friend of mine, and--I'm--I'm d----d if he ain'thon--honest."
"About as honest as the Yankees run," replied the Colonel, "he's ad----d thief, sir!"
"Look here--here, zir--don't--don't you--you zay any--thing 'gainst--theYankees. D----d if--if I aint--one of 'em mezelf--zir," said the fellowstaggering toward the Colonel.
"_I_ don't care _what_ you are; you're drunk."
"You lie--you--you d----d 'ris--'ristocrat," was the reply, as theinebriated gentleman aimed a blow, with all his unsteady might, at theColonel's face.
The South Carolinian stepped quickly aside, and dexterously threw hisfoot before the other, who--his blow not meeting the expectedresistance--was unable to recover himself, and fell headlong to thefloor. The planter turned on his heel, and was walking quietly away,when the sharp report of a pistol sounded through the apartment, and aball tore through the top of his boot, and lodged in the wall within twofeet of where I was standing. With a spring, quick and sure as thetiger's, the Colonel was on the drunken man. Wrenching away the weapon,he seized the fellow by the neck-tie, and drawing him up to nearly hisfull height, dashed him at one throw to the other end of the room. Thenraising the revolver he coolly levelled it to fire!
But a dozen strong men were on him. The pistol was out of his hand, andhis arms were pinioned in an instant; while cries of "Fair play, sir!""He's drunk!" "Don't hit a man when he's down," and other likeexclamations, came from all sides.
"Give _me_ fair play, you d----d North Carolina hounds," cried theColonel, struggling violently to get away, "and I'll fight the wholeposse of you."
"One's 'nuff for _you_, ye d----d fire-eatin' 'ristocrat;" said a long,lean, bushy-haired, be-whiskered individual, who was standing near thecounter: "ef ye want to fight, _I'll_ 'tend to yer case to onst. Let himgo, boys," he continued as he stepped toward the Colonel, and parted thecrowd that had gathered around him: "give him the shootin'-iron, andlet's see ef he'll take a man thet's sober."
I saw serious trouble was impending, and stepping forward, I said to thelast speaker, "My friend, you have no quarrel with this gentleman. Hehas treated that man only as you would have done."
"P'raps thet's so; but he's a d----d hound of a Secesherner thet'sdraggin' us all to h--ll; it'll du the country good to git quit of oneon 'em."
"Whatever his politics are, he's a gentleman, sir, and has done you noharm--let me beg of you to let him alone."
"Don't beg any thing for me, Mr. K----," growled the Colonel through hisbarred teeth, "I'll fight the d----d corn-cracker, and his whole race,at once."
"No you won't, my friend. For the sake of those at home you won't;" Isaid, taking him by the arm, and partly leading, partly forcing him,toward the door.
"And who in h--ll ar you?" asked the corn-cracker, planting himselfsquarely in my way.
"I'm on the same side of politics with you, Union to the core!" Ireplied.
"Ye ar! Union! Then give us yer fist," said he, grasping me by the hand;"by ---- it does a feller good to see a man dressed in yer cloes thethaint 'fraid to say he's Union, so close to South Car'lina, tu, as thisar! Come, hev a drink: come boys--all round--let's liquor!"
"Excuse me now, my dear fellow--some other time I'll be glad to joinyou."
"Jest as ye say, but thar's my fist, enyhow."
He gave me another hearty shake of the hand, and the crowd parting, Imade my way with the Colonel out of the room. We were followed by Miles,the landlord, who, when we had reached the front of the entrance-way,said, "I'm right sorry for this row, gentlemen; the boys will hev a timewhen they gets together."
"Oh, never mind;" said the Colonel, who had recovered his coolness; "butwhy are all these people here?"
"Thar's a barbacue cumin' off to-morrer on the camp-ground, and thehouse is cram full."
"Is that so?" said the Colonel, then turning to me he added, "Moye hastaken the railroad somewhere else; I must get to a telegraph office atonce, to head him off. The nearest one is Wilmington. With all theserowdies here, it will not do to leave the horses alone--will you stayand keep an eye on them over to-morrow?"
"Yes, I will, cheerfully."
"Thar's a mighty hard set, round har now, Cunnel," said the landlord;"and the most peaceable get enter scrapes ef they hain't no friends.Hadn't ye better show the gentleman some of your'n, 'fore you go?"
"Yes, yes, I didn't think of that. Who is here?"
"Wal, thar's Cunnel Taylor, Bill Barnes, Sam Heddleson, Jo Shackelford,Andy Jones, Rob Brown, and lots of others."
"Where's Andy Jones?"
"Reckon he's turned in; I'll see."
As the landlord opened a door which led from the hall, the Colonel saidto me, "Andy is a Union man; but he'd fight to the death for me."
"Sal!" called out the hotel keeper.
"Yas, massa, I'se har," was the answer from a slatternly woman, awfullyblack in the face, who soon thrust her head from the door-way.
"Is Andy Jones har?" asked Miles.
"Yas, massa, he'm turned in up thar on de table."
We followed the landlord into
the apartment. It was the dining-room ofthe hotel, and by the dim light which came from a smoky fire on thehearth, I saw it contained about a hundred people, who, wrapped inblankets, bed-quilts and travelling-shawls, were disposed in allconceivable attitudes, and scattered about on the hard floor and tables,sleeping soundly. The room was a long, low apartment--extending acrossthe entire front of the house--and had a wretched, squalid look. Thefire, which was tended by the negro-woman--(she had spread a blanket onthe floor, and was keeping a drowsy watch over it for the night)--hadbeen recently replenished with green wood, and was throwing out thickvolumes of black smoke, which, mixing with the effluvia from the lungsof a hundred sleepers, made up an atmosphere next to impossible tobreathe. Not a window was open, and not an aperture for ventilationcould be seen!
Carefully avoiding the arms and legs of the recumbent chivalry, wepicked our way, guided by the negro-girl, to the corner of the roomwhere the Unionist was sleeping. Shaking him briskly by the shoulder,the Colonel called out: "Andy! Andy! wake up!"
"What--what the d----l is the matter?" stammered the sleeper, graduallyopening his eyes, and raising himself on one elbow, "Lord bless you,Cunnel, is that you? what in ---- brought _you_ har?"
"Business, Andy. Come, get up, I want to see you, and I can't talkhere."
The North Carolinian slowly rose, and throwing his blanket over hisshoulders, followed us from the room. When we had reached the open airthe Colonel introduced me to his friend, who expressed surprise, and agreat deal of pleasure, at meeting a Northern Union man in the Colonel'scompany.
"Look after our horses, now, Miles; Andy and I want to talk," said theplanter to the landlord, with about as little ceremony as he would haveshown to a negro.
I thought the white man did not exactly relish the Colonel's manner, butsaying, "All right, all right, sir," he took himself away.
The night was raw and cold, but as all the rooms of the hotel wereoccupied, either by sleepers or carousers, we had no other alternativethan to hold our conference in the open air. Near the railway-track alight-wood fire was blazing, and, obeying the promptings of the frostyatmosphere, we made our way to it. Lying on the ground around it,divested of all clothing except a pair of linsey trousers and a flannelshirt, and with their naked feet close to its blaze--roasting at oneextremity, and freezing at the other--were several blacks, theswitch-tenders and woodmen of the Station--fast asleep. How human beingscould sleep in such circumstances seemed a marvel, but furtherobservation convinced me that the Southern negro has a natural aptitudefor that exercise, and will, indeed, bear more exposure than any otherliving thing. Nature in giving him such powers of endurance, appears tohave specially fitted him for the life of hardship and privation towhich he is born.
The fire-light enabled me to scan the appearance of my new acquaintance.He was rather above the medium height, squarely and somewhat stoutlybuilt, and had an easy and self-possessed, though rough and unpolishedmanner. His face, or so much of it as was visible from underneath athick mass of reddish gray hair, denoted a firm, decided character; butthere was a manly, open, honest expression about it that gained one'sconfidence in a moment. He wore a slouched hat and a suit of theordinary "sheep's-grey," cut in the "sack" fashion, and hanging looselyabout him. He seemed a man who had made his own way in the world, and Isubsequently learned that appearances did not belie him. The son of a"poor white" man, with scarcely the first rudiments of book-education,he had, by sterling worth, natural ability, and great force ofcharacter, accumulated a handsome property, and acquired a leadingposition in his district. Though on "the wrong side of politics," hispersonal popularity was so great that for several successive years hehad been elected to represent the county in the state legislature. TheColonel, though opposed to him in politics--and party feeling at theSouth runs so high that political opponents are seldom personalfriends--had, in the early part of his career, aided him by hisendorsements; and Andy had not forgotten the service. It was easy to seethat while two men could not be more unlike in character and appearancethan my host and the North Carolinian, they were warm and intimatefriends.
"So, Moye has been raising h--ll gin'rally, Colonel," said my newacquaintance after a time. "I'm not surprised. I never did b'lieve inYankee nigger-drivers--sumhow it's agin natur' for a Northern man to goSouthern principles quite so strong as Moye did."
"Which route do you think he has taken?" asked the Colonel.
"Wal, I reckon arter he tuk to the run, he made fur the mountings. Heknow'd you'd head him on the travelled routes; so he's put, I think, furthe Missussippe, where he'll sell the horse and make North."
"I'll follow him," said the Colonel, "to the ends of the earth. If itcosts me five thousand dollars, I'll see him hung."
"Wal," replied Andy, laughing, "if he's gone North you'll need aextradition treaty to kotch him. South Car'lina, I b'lieve, has set upfur a furrin country."
"That's true," said the Colonel, also laughing, "she's "furrin" to theYankees, but not to the old North State."
"D----d if she haint," replied the North Carolinian, "and now she's gotout on our company, I swear she must keep out. We'd as soon think ofgoin' to h----ll in summer time, as of jining partnership with her.Cunnel, you'r the only decent man in the State--d----d if youhaint--and _your_ politics are a'most bad 'nuff to spile a township. Itallers seemed sort o'queer to me, that a man with such a mighty goodheart as your'n, could be so short in the way of brains."
"Well, you're complimentary," replied the Colonel, with the utmostgood-nature, "but let's drop politics; we never could agree, you know.What shall I do about Moye?"
"Go to Wilmington and telegraph all creation: wait a day to har, then ifyou don't har, go home, hire a native overseer, and let Moye go to thed----l. Ef it'll do you any good I'll go to Wilmington with you, thoughI did mean to give you Secesherners a little h--har to-morrer."
"No, Andy, I'll go alone. 'Twouldn't be patriotic to take you away fromthe barbacue. You'd 'spile' if you couldn't let off some gas soon."
"I do b'lieve I shud. Howsumdever, thar's nary a thing I wouldn't do foryou--you knows that."
"Yes, I do, and I wish you'd keep an eye on my Yankee friend here, andsee he don't get into trouble with any of the boys--there'll be a hardset 'round, I reckon."
"Wal, I will," said Andy, "but all he's to do is to keep his mouthshet."
"That seems easy enough," I replied, laughing.
A desultory conversation followed for about an hour, when thesteam-whistle sounded, and the up-train arrived. The Colonel got onboard and bidding us "good-night," went on to Wilmington. Andy thenproposed we should look up sleeping accommodations. It was useless toseek quarters at the hotel, but an empty car was on the turn-out, andbribing one of the negroes we got access to it, and were soon stretchedat full length on two of its hard-bottomed seats.
Among the Pines; or, South in Secession Time Page 14