“Much better, sir, much better,” replied Ralph. “Rachel, don’t you nor Jerry ever take any spirits?”
“No, Maus Rafe, not any,” replied the old woman.
“May be your friend there will take a little.”
“I don’t drink, sir,” said Henry.
Rising from the homely meal at the humble board of Aunt Rachel and Uncle Jerry, they emptied their pockets of crackers, cold biscuits and cheese, giving the old man a plug of honey-cured tobacco, to be divided between himself and wife, in lieu of what they had, without invitation, taken the liberty of eating. The patrol this evening were composed of the better class of persons, principally business men, two of whom, being lawyers who went out that evening for a mere “frolic among the Negroes.”
Receiving the parting hand, accompanied with a “good bye, honey!” and “God bless yeh, meh son!” from the old people, Henry left the hut to continue his course through the forest. Hearing persons approaching, he stepped aside from the road to conceal himself, when two parties at the junction of two roads met each other, coming to a stand.
“What’s up tonight, Colonel?” enquired one.
“Nothing but the raffle.”
“Are you going?”
“Yes, the whole party here; won’t you go?”
“I dun’o; what’s the chances?”
“Five dollars only.”
“Five dollars a chance! What the deuce is the prize!”
“Oh, there’s several for the same money.”
“What are they?”
“That fine horse and buggy of Colonel Sprout, a mare and colt, a little Negro girl ten years of age, and a trail of four of the finest Negro-dogs in the state.”
“Hallo! all them; why, how many chances, in the name of gracious, are there?”
“Only a hundred and fifty.”
“Seven hundred and fifty dollars for the whole; that’s cheap. But, then, all can’t win, and it must be a loss to somebody.”
“Will you go, Cap’n?”
“Well, I don’t care–go it is!” when the parties started in the direction of the sport, Henry following to reconnoiter them.
On approaching the tavern, the rafflers, who waited the rest of the company to gather, could be seen and heard through the uncurtained windows and the door, which was frequently opened, standing around a blazing hot fire, and in groups over the barroom floor, amusing themselves with jests and laughter. Henry stood in the verge of the forest in a position to view the whole of their proceedings.
Presently there was a rush out of doors with glee and merriment. Old Colonel Sprout was bringing out his dogs, to test their quality previous to the raffle.
“Now, gentlemen!” exclaimed he, “them is the best trained dogs in this part of the state. Be dad, they’s the bes’ dogs in the country. When you say ‘nigger,’ you needn’t fear they’ll ever go after anything but a nigger.”
“Come, Colonel, give them a trial; we must have something going on to kill time,” suggested one of the party.
“But what will he try ’em on?” said another; “there’s no niggers to hunt.”
“Send them out, and let them find one, be George; what else would you have them do?” replied a third.
“Where the deuce will they get one?” rejoined a fourth.
“Just as a hunting dog finds any other game,” answered a fifth; “where else?”
“O, by golly, gentlemen, you need’s give yourselves no uneasiness about the game. They’ll find a nigger, once started if they have to break into some Negro quarter and drag ’m out o’ bed. No mistake ’bout them, I tell you, gentlemen,” boasted Sprout.
“But won’t a nigger hurt ’em when he knows he’s not a runaway?” enquired Richard Rester Rutherford.
“What, a nigger hurt a bloodhound! By, gracious, they’re fearder of a bloodhound than they is of the devil himself! Them dogs is dogs, gentlemen, an’ no mistake; they is by gracious!” declared Sprout.
“Well, let them loose, Colonel, and let’s have a little sport, at any rate!” said Ralph Jordon, the patrol, who had just arrived; “we’re in for a spree tonight, anyhow.”
“Here, Caesar, Major, Jowler, here Pup! Niggers about! Seek out!” hissed the Colonel, with a snap of the fìnger, pointing toward the thicket, in the direction of which was Henry. With a yelp which sent a shudder through the crowd, the dogs started in full chase for the forest.
“By George, Colonel, that’s too bad! Call them back!” said Ralph Jordon, as the savage brutes bounded in search of a victim.
“By thunder, gentlemen, it’s too late! they’ll have a nigger before they stop. They’ll taste the blood of some poor black devil before they git back!” declared Sprout.
Having heard every word that passed between them, in breathless silence Henry waited the approach of the animals. The yelping now became more anxious and eager, until at last it was heard as a short, impatient, fretful whining, indicating a near approach to their prey, when growing less and less, they ceased entirely to be heard.
“What the Harry does it mean! the dogs has ceased to bay!” remarked Colonel Sprout.
“Maybe they caught a nigger,” replied John Spangler.
“It might be a Tartar!” rejoined Ralph Jordon.
“Maybe a nigger caught them!” said the Sheriff of the county, who was present to superintend the raffle, and receive the proceeds of the hazard.
“What!” exclaimed the old gentleman, to enhance the value of the prizes. “What! My Caesar, Major, Jowler, and Pup, the best dogs in all Arkansas!–A nigger kill them! No, gentlemen, once let loose an’ on their trail, an’ they’s not a gang o’ niggers to be found out at night they couldn’t devour! Them dogs! Hanged if they didn’t eat a nigger quicker as they’d swaller a piece o’ meat!”
“Then they’re the dogs for me!” replied the Sheriff.
“And me,” added Spangle, a noted agent for catching runaway slaves.
“The raffle, the raffle!” exclaimed several voices eager for a chance, estimating at once the value of the dogs above the aggregate amount of the stakes.
“But the dogs, the dogs, gentlemen! They’re not here! Give us the dogs first,” suggested an eager candidate for competition in the prizes.
“No matter, gentlemen; be sartin,” said the Colonel, “when they’s done they’ll come back agin.”
“But how will they be managed in attacking strange Negroes?” enquired Ralph Jordon.
“O, the command of any white man is sufficient to call ’em off, an’ they’s plenty o’ them all’as wherever you find niggers.”
“Then, Colonel, we’re to understand you to mean, that white men can’t live without niggers.”
“I’ll be hanged, gentlemen, if it don’t seem so, for wherever you find one you’ll all’as find tother, they’s so fully mixed up with us in all our relations!” peals of laughter following the explanation.
“Come, Colonel, I’ll be hanged if we stand that, except you stand treat!” said Ralph.
“Stand what? Let us understand you; what’d I say?”
“What did you say? why, by George, you tell us flatly that we are related to niggers!”
“Then, gentlemen, I’ll stand treat; for on that question I’ll be consarned if some of us don’t have to knock under!” at which there were deafening roars of laughter, the crowd rushing into the barroom, crying, “Treat! Treat!! That’s too good to be lost!”
Next day after the raffle, the winners having presented the prizes back to their former owner, it was whispered about that the dogs had been found dead in the woods, the mare and colt were astray, the little slave girl was in a pulmonary decline, the buggy had been upset and badly worsted the day before the raffle, and the horse had the distemper; upon which information the whole party met at a convenient place on a fixed day, going out to his house in a body, who ate, drank, and caroused at his expense during the day and evening.
“Sprout,” said Ralph Jordon, “with your uniform benevolence, g
enerosity and candor, how did you ever manage to depart so far from your old principles and rule of doing things? I can’t understand it.”
“How so? Explain yourself,” replied Sprout.
“Why you always give rather than take advantage, your house and means always being open to the needy, even those with whom you are unacquainted.”
“I’m sure I ain’t departed one whit from my old rule,” said Sprout; “I saw you was all strangers to the thing, an’ I took you in; I’m blamed if I didn’t!” the crowd shouting with laughter.
“One word, Sprout,” said Jordon. “When the dogs ceased baying, didn’t you suspect something wrong?”
“I know’d at once when they stopped that they was defeated; but I thought they’d pitched headlong into a old wellhole some sixty footdeep, where the walls has tumbled in, an’ made it some twenty foot wide at the top. I lis’ened every minute ’spectin’ to hear a devil of a whinin’ ’mong ’em’ but I was disapinted.”
“Well, its a blamed pity, anyhow, that such fine animals were killed; and no clue as yet, I believe, to the perpetration of the deed,” said the Sheriff.
“They was, indeed,” replied Sprout, “as good a breed o’ dogs as ever was, an’ if they’d a been trained right, nothin’ could a come up with them; but consarn their picters, it serves ’em right, as they wos the cussedest cowards I ever seed! ’Sarn them, if a nigger ony done so–jis’ made a pass at ’em, an’ I’ll be hanged if they didn’t yelp like wild cats, an almost kill ’emselves runin’ away!” at which explanation the peals of laughter were deafening.
“Let’s stay a week, stay a week, gentlemen!” exclaimed Ralph Jordon, in a convulsion of laughter.
“Be gracious, gentlemen!” concluded Sprout. “If you stay till eternity it won’t alter the case one whit; case, the mare an’ colt’s lost, the black gal’s no use to anybody, the buggy’s all smashed up, the hos’ is got the distemper, and the dogs is dead as thunder!”
With a boisterous roar, the party, already nearly exhausted with laughter, commenced gathering their hats and cloaks, and left the premises declaring never again to be caught at a raffling wherein was interested Colonel Joel Sprout.
The dogs were the best animals of the kind, and quickly trailed out their game; but Henry, with a well-aimed weapon, slew each ferocious beast as it approached him, leaving them weltering in their own blood instead of feasting on his, as would have been the case had he not overpowered them. The rest of the prizes were also valuable and in good order, and the story which found currency depreciating them, had its origin in the brain and interest of Colonel Sprout, which resulted, as designed, entirely in his favor.
Hastening on to the Fulton landing Henry reached it at half-past two o’clock in the morning, just in time to board a steamer on the downward trip, which barely touched the shore to pick up a package. Knowing him by reputation as a great horse master, the captain received him cheerfully, believing him to have been, from what he had learned, to the Texas races with horses for his master.
Being now at ease, and faring upon the best the vessel could afford, after a little delay along the cotton trading coast, Henry was safely landed in the portentous city of New Orleans.
CHAPTER 22
New Orleans
The season is the holidays, it is evening, and the night is beautiful. The moon, which in Louisiana is always an object of impressive interest, even to the slave as well as those of enlightened and scientific intelligence, the influence of whose soft and mellow light seems ever like the enchanting effect of some invisible being, to impart inspiration now being shed from the crescent of the first day of the last quarter, appeared more interesting and charming than ever.
Though the cannon at the old fort in the Lower Faubourg had fired the significant warning, admonishing the slaves as well as free blacks to limit their movement, still there were passing to and fro with seeming indifference Negroes, both free and slaves, as well as the whites and Creole quadroons, fearlessly along the public highways, in seeming defiance of the established usage of Negro limitation.
This was the evening of the day of Mardi Gras, and from longestablished and time-honored custom, the celebration which commenced in the morning was now being consummated by games, shows, exhibitions, theatrical performances, festivals, masquerade balls, and numerous entertainments and gatherings in the evening. It was on this account that the Negroes had been allowed such unlimited privileges this evening.
Nor were they remiss to the utmost extent of its advantages.
The city which always at this season of the year is lively, and Chartier street [10] gay and fashionable, at this time appeared more lively, gay and fashionable than usual. This fashionable thoroughfare, the pride of the city, was thronged with people, presenting complexions of every shade and color. Now could be seen and realized the expressive description in the popular song of the vocalist Cargill:
I suppose you’ve heard how New Orleans
Is famed for wealth and beauty;
There’s girls of every hue, it seems,
From snowy white to sooty.
The extensive shops and fancy stores presented the presence behind their counters as saleswomen in attendance of numerous females, black, white, mulatto and quadroon, politely bowing, curtsying, and rubbing their hands, in accents of broken English inviting to purchase all who enter the threshold, or even look in at the door:
“Wat fa you want something? Walk in, sire, I vill sell you one nice present fa one young lady.”
And so with many who stood or sat along the streets and at the store doors, curtsying and smiling they give the civil banter:
“Come, sire, I sell you one pretty ting.”
The fancy stores and toy shops on this occasion were crowded seemingly to their greatest capacity. Here might be seen the fashionable young white lady of French or American extraction, and there the handsome, and frequently beautiful maiden of African origin, mulatto, quadroon, or sterling black, all fondly interchanging civilities, and receiving some memento or keepsake from the hand of an acquaintance. Many lively jests and impressive flings of delicate civility noted the greetings of the passersby. Freedom seemed as though for once enshielded by her sacred robes and crowned with cap and wand in hand, to go forth untrammeled through the highways of the town.[11] Along the private streets, sitting under the verandas, in the doors with half-closed jalousies, or promenading unconcernedly the public ways, mournfully humming in solace or chanting in lively glee, could be seen and heard many a Creole, male or female, black, white or mixed race, sometimes in reverential praise of
Father, Son and Holy Ghost–
Madonna, and the Heavenly Host!
in sentimental reflection on some pleasant social relations, or the sad reminiscence of ill-treatment or loss by death of some loved one, or worse than death, the relentless and insatiable demands of slavery.
In the distance, on the levee or in the harbor among the steamers, the songs of the boatmen were incessant. Every few hours landing, loading and unloading, the glee of these men of sorrow was touchingly appropriate and impressive. Men of sorrow they are in reality; for if there be a class of men anywhere to be found, whose sentiments of song and words of lament are made to reach the sympathies of others, the black slave-boatmen of the Mississippi river is that class. Placed in positions the most favorable to witness the pleasures enjoyed by others, the tendency is only to augment their own wretchedness.[12]
Fastened by the unyielding links of the iron cable of despotism, reconciling themselves to a lifelong misery, they are seemingly contented by soothing their sorrows with songs and sentiments of apparently cheerful but in reality wailing lamentations. The most attracting lament of the evening was sung to words, a stanza of which is presented in pathos of delicate tenderness, which is but a spray from the stream which gushed out in insuppressible jets from the agitated fountains of their souls, as if in unison with the restless current of the great river upon which they were compelled to toil, thei
r troubled waters could not be quieted. In the capacity of leader, as is their custom, one poor fellow in pitiful tones led off the song of the evening:
Way down upon the Mobile river,
Close to Mobile bay;
There’s where my thoughts is running ever,
All through the livelong day:
There I’ve a good and fond old mother,
Though she is a slave;
There I’ve a sister and a brother,
Lying in their peaceful graves.
Then in chorus joined the whole company——
O, could I somehow a’nother,
Drive these tears way;
When I think about my poor old mother,
Down upon the Mobile bay.[13]
Standing in the midst of and contemplating such scenes as these, it was that Henry determined to finish his mission in the city and leave it by the earliest conveyance over Pontchartrain for Alabama–Mobile being the point at which he aimed. Swiftly as the current of the fleeting Mississippi was time passing by, and many states lay in expanse before him, all of which, by the admonishing impulses of the dearest relations, he was compelled to pass over as a messenger of light and destruction.
Light, of necessity, had to be imparted to the darkened region of the obscure intellects of the slaves, to arouse them from their benighted condition to one of moral responsibility, to make them sensible that liberty was legitimately and essentially theirs, without which there was no distinction between them and the brute. Following as a necessary consequence would be the destruction of oppression and ignorance.
Alone and friendless, without a home, a fugitive from slavery, a child of misfortune and outcast upon the world, floating on the cold surface of chance, now in the midst of a great city of opulence, surrounded by the most despotic restrictions upon his race, with renewed determination Henry declared that nothing short of an unforeseen Providence should impede his progress in the spread of secret organization among the slaves. So aroused, he immediately started for a house in the Lower Faubourg.
Blake or The Huts of America Page 14