The Quadroon: Adventures in the Far West

by Mayne Reid

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

  "OLE ZIP."

  Scipio opened the dialogue:--

  "Gollies, young mass'r! Ole Zip 'joiced to see um well 'gain--daat hebe."

  "Scipio is it?"

  "Ye', mass'r--daat same ole nigger. Doctor told um to nuss de whitegenl'um. Won't young missa be glad haself!--white folks, black folks--all be glad, Wugh!"

  The finishing exclamation was one of those thoracic efforts peculiar tothe American negro, and bearing a strong resemblance to the snort of ahippopotamus. Its utterance signified that my companion had finishedhis sentence, and waited for me to speak.

  "And who is `young missa'?" I inquired.

  "Gorramighty! don't mass'r know? Why, de young lady you fotch from deboat, when twar all ober a blaze. Lor! what a swum you make--half crossde riber! Wugh!"

  "And am I in her house?"

  "Ob sartin, mass'r--daat ar in de summer-house--for de big house am onoder side ob de garden--all de same, mass'r."

  "And how did I get here?"

  "Golly! don't mass'r 'member how? Why, ole Zip carried 'im in yar indese berry arms. Mass'r an young missa come 'shore on de Lebee, downdar jes by de gate. Missa shout--black folks come out an find um--whitegenl'um all blood--he faint, an missa have him carried in yar."

  "And after?"

  "Zip he mount fastest hoss--ole White Fox--an gallop for de doctor--gallop like de debil, too. Ob course de doctor he come back along anddress up mass'r's arm.

  "But," continued Scipio, turning upon me an inquiring look, "how'd youngmass'r come by de big ugly cut? Dat's jes wha de Doc wanted to know, andat's jes wha young missa didn't know nuffin 'tall 'bout."

  For certain reasons I forbore satisfying the curiosity of my sablenurse, but lay for a moment reflecting. True, the lady knew nothing ofmy encounter with the bully. Ha! Antoine--then. Had he not comeashore? Was he--? Scipio anticipated the question I was about to put.His face became sad as he recommenced speaking.

  "Ah! young mass'r, Mamselle 'Genie be in great 'stress dis mornin--allde folks be in great 'stress. Mass'r Toney! Poor Mass'r Toney."

  "The steward, Antoine? What of him? Tell me, has he not come home?"

  "No, mass'r--I'se afeerd he nebber, nebber will--ebberybody 'feerd he bedrownded--folks a been to de village--up an down de Lebee--ebery wha.No Toney. Captain ob de boat blowed clar into de sky, an fiftypassengers gone to de bottom. Oder boat save some; some, like youngmass'r, swam 'shore: but no Toney--no Mass'r Toney!"

  "Do you know if he could swim?" I asked.

  "No, mass'r, ne'er a stroke. I knows daat, 'kase he once falled into debayou, and Ole Zip pull 'im out. No--he nebber swim--nebber."

  "Then I fear he is lost indeed."

  I remembered that the wreck went down before the Magnolia had got closealongside. I had noticed this on looking around. Those who could notswim, therefore, must have perished.

  "Poor Pierre, too. We hab lost Pierre."

  "Pierre? Who was he?"

  "De coachman, mass'r, he war."

  "Oh! I remember. You think he is drowned, also?"

  "I'se afeerd so, mass'r. Ole Zip sorry, too, for Pierre. A good niggerwar daat Pierre. But, Mass'r Toney, Mass'r Toney, ebberybody sorry forMass'r Toney."

  "He was a favourite among you?"

  "Ebberybody like 'im--black folks, white folks, all lub 'im. Missa'Genie lub 'im. He live wi' ole Mass'r Sancon all him life. I believewar one ob Missy 'Genie gardiums, or whatever you call 'em.Gorramighty! what will young Missa do now? She hab no friends leff; anddaat ole fox Gayarre--he no good--"

  Here the speaker suddenly interrupted himself, as if he feared that histongue was going too freely.

  The name he had pronounced and the expression by which it was qualified,at once awakened my curiosity--the name more than the qualification.

  "If it be the same," thought I, "Scipio has characterised him nototherwise than justly. Can it be the same?"

  "You mean Monsieur Dominique Gayarre, the _avocat_?" I asked, after apause.

  Scipio's great white eyeballs rolled about with an expression of mingledsurprise and apprehension, and rather stammeringly he replied:--

  "Daat am de genl'um's name. Know 'im, young mass'r?"

  "Only very slightly," I answered, and this answer seemed to set mycompanion at his ease again.

  The truth is, I had no _personal_ acquaintance with the individualmentioned; but during my stay in New Orleans, accident had brought me incontact with the name. A little adventure had befallen me, in which thebearer of it figured--not to advantage. On the contrary, I hadconceived a strong dislike for the man, who, as already stated, was alawyer, or _avocat_ of the New Orleans bar. Scipio's man was no doubtthe same. The name was too rare a one to be borne by two individuals;besides, I had heard that he was owner of a plantation somewhere up thecoast--at Bringiers, I remembered. The probabilities were it was he.If so, and Mademoiselle Besancon had no other friend, then, indeed, hadScipio spoken truly when he said, "She hab no friends leff."

  Scipio's observation had not only roused my curiosity, but had impartedto me a vague feeling of uneasiness. It is needless to say that I wasnow deeply interested in this young Creole. A man who has saved alife--the life of a beautiful woman--and under such peculiarcircumstances, could not well be indifferent to the after-fate of her hehas rescued.

  Was it a lover's interest that had been awakened within me?

  My heart answered, No! To my own astonishment, it gave this answer. Onthe boat I had fancied myself half in love with this young lady; andnow, after a romantic incident--one that might appear a very provocativeto the sublime passion--I lay on my couch contemplating the whole affairwith a coolness that surprised even myself! I felt that I had lost muchblood--had my incipient passion flowed out of my veins at the same time?

  I endeavoured to find some explanation for this rare psychological fact;but at that time I was but an indifferent student of the mind. The landof love was to me a _terre inconnue_.

  One thing was odd enough. Whenever I essayed to recall the features ofthe Creole, the dream-face rose up before me more palpable than ever!

  "Strange!" thought I, "this lovely vision! this dream of my diseasedbrain! Oh! what would I not give to embody this fair spectral form!"

  I had no longer a doubt about it. I was certain I did not loveMademoiselle Besancon, and yet I was far from feeling indifferenttowards her. Friendship was the feeling that now actuated me. Theinterest, I felt for her was that of a friend. Strong enough was it torender me anxious on her account--to make me desirous of knowing moreboth of herself and her affairs.

  Scipio was not of secretive habit; and in less than half an hour I wasthe confidant of all he knew.

  Eugenie Besancon was the daughter and only child of a Creole planter,who had died some two years before, as some thought wealthy, whileothers believed that his affairs were embarrassed. Monsieur DominiqueGayarre had been left joint-administrator of the estate with the stewardAntoine, both being "guardiums" (sic Scipio) of the young lady. Gayarrehad been the lawyer of Besancon, and Antoine his faithful servitor.Hence the trust reposed in the old steward, who in latter years stood inthe relation of friend and companion rather than of servant to Besanconhimself.

  In a few months mademoiselle would be of age; but whether herinheritance was large, Scipio could not tell. He only knew that sinceher father's death, Monsieur Dominique, the principal executor, hadfurnished her with ample funds whenever called upon; that she had notbeen restricted in any way; that she was generous; that she was profusein her expenditure, or, as Scipio described it, "berry wasteful, anflung about de shinin dollars as ef dey war _donicks_!"

  The black gave some glowing details of many a grand ball and _fetechampetre_ that had taken place on the plantation, and hinted at theexpensive life which "young missa" led while in the city, where sheusually resided during most part of the winter. All this I could easilycredit. From what had occurred on the boat, and
other circumstances, Iwas impressed with the belief that Eugenie Besancon was just the personto answer to the description of Scipio. Ardent of soul--full of warmimpulses--generous to a fault--reckless in expenditure--livingaltogether in the present--and not caring to make any calculation forthe future. Just such an heiress as would exactly suit the purposes ofan unprincipled administrator.

  I could see that poor Scipio had a great regard for his young mistress;but, even ignorant as he was, he had some suspicion that all thisprofuse outlay boded no good. He shook his head as he talked of thesematters, adding--

  "I'se afeerd, young mass'r, it'll nebber, nebber last. De Planters'bank hisseff would be broke by such a constant drawin ob money."

  When Scipio came to speak of Gayarre he shook his head still moresignificantly. He had evidently some strange suspicions about thisindividual, though he was unwilling, just then, to declare them.

  I learnt enough to identify Monsieur Dominique Gayarre with my _avocat_of the Rue --, New Orleans. No doubt remained on my mind that it wasthe same. A lawyer by profession, but more of a speculator in stocks--amoney-lender, in other words, usurer. In the country a planter, owningthe plantation adjoining that of Besancon, with more than a hundredslaves, whom he treats with the utmost severity. All this is incorrespondence with the calling and character of my Monsieur Dominique.They are the same.

  Scipio gives me some additional details of him. He was the law adviserand the companion of Monsieur Besancon--Scipio says, "Too often for olemass'r's good," and believes that the latter suffered much from hisacquaintance: or, as Scipio phrases it, "Mass'r Gayarre humbug olemass'r; he cheat 'im many an many a time, I'se certain."

  Furthermore, I learn from my attendant, that Gayarre resides upon hisplantation during the summer months; that he is a daily visitor at the"big house"--the residence of Mademoiselle Besancon--where he makeshimself quite at home; acting, says Scipio, "as ef de place 'longed tohim, and he war de boss ob de plantation."

  I fancied Scipio knew something more about this man--some definitematter that he did not like to talk about. It was natural enough,considering our recent acquaintance. I could see that he had a strongdislike towards Gayarre. Did he found it on some actual knowledge ofthe latter, or was it instinct--a principle strongly developed in thesepoor slaves, who are not permitted to _reason_?

  His information, however, comprised too many facts to be the product ofmere instinct: it savoured of actual knowledge. He must have learntthese things from some quarter. Where could he have gathered them?

  "Who told you all this, Scipio?"

  "Aurore, mass'r."

  "Aurore!"