by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER SEVENTY SIX.
A TERRIBLE FATE.
I saw no more of Aurore. Neither was the black brought along. I couldgather from the conversation of my captors, that they were to be takenin one of the skiffs that had stayed behind--that they were to be landedat a different point from that to which we were steering. I couldgather, too, that the poor Bambarra was doomed to a terriblepunishment--the same he already dreaded--the losing of an arm!
I was pained at such a thought, but still more by the rude jests I hadnow to listen to. My betrothed and myself were reviled with adisgusting coarseness, which I cannot repeat.
I made no attempt to defend either her or myself. I did not even reply.I sat with my eyes bent gloomily upon the water; and it was a sort ofrelict to me when the pirogue again passed in among the trunks of thecypress-trees, and their dark shadow half concealed my face from theview of my captors. I was brought back to the landing by the oldtree-trunk.
On nearing this I saw that a crowd of men awaited us on the shore; andamong them I recognised the ferocious Ruffin, with his arm slung in hisred kerchief, bandaged and bloody. He was standing up with the rest.
"Thank Heaven! I have not killed him!" was my mental ejaculation. "Somuch the less have I to answer for."
The canoes and skiffs--with the exception of that which carried Auroreand the black--had all arrived at this point, and my captors werelanding. In all there were some thirty or forty men, with a proportionof half-grown boys. Most of them were armed with either pistols orrifles. Under the grey gloom of the trees, they presented a picturesquetableau; but at that moment my feelings were not attuned to enjoy it.
I was landed among the rest; and with two armed men, one before andanother immediately at my back, I was marched off through the woods.The crowd accompanied us, some in the advance, some behind, while otherswalked alongside. These were the boys and the more brutal of the menwho occasionally taunted me with rude speech.
I might have lost patience and grown angry, had that served me; but Iknew it would only give pleasure to my tormentors, without bettering mycondition. I therefore observed silence, and kept my eyes averted orturned upon the ground.
We passed on rapidly--as fast as the crowd could make way through thebushes--and I was glad of this. I presumed I was about to be conductedbefore a magistrate, or "justice of the peace," as there called. Well,thought I. Under legal authority, and in the keeping of the officers, Ishould be protected from the gibes and insults that were being showeredupon me. Everything short of personal violence was offered; and therewere some that seemed sufficiently disposed even for this.
I saw the forest opening in front. I supposed we had gone by someshorter way to the clearings. It was not so, for the next moment weemerged into the glade. Again the glade!
Here my captors came to a halt; and now in the open light I had anopportunity to know who they were. At a glance I saw that I was in thehands of a desperate crowd.
Gayarre himself was in their midst, and beside him his own overseer, andthe negro-trader, and the brutal Larkin. With these were somehalf-dozen Creole-Frenchmen of the poorer class of _proprietaires_,weavers of cottonade, or small planters. The rest of the mob wascomposed of the very scum of the settlement--the drunken boatmen whom Ihad used to see gossiping in front of the "groceries," and otherdissipated rowdies of the place. Not one respectable planter appearedupon the ground--not one respectable man!
For what had they stopped in the glade? I was impatient to be takenbefore the justice, and chafed at the delay.
"Why am I detained here?" I asked in a tone of anger.
"Ho, mister!" replied one; "don't be in such a hell of a hurry! You'llfind out soon enough, I reckon."
"I protest against this," I continued. "I insist upon being takenbefore the justice."
"An' so ye will, damn you! You ain't got far to go. _The justice ishyar_."
"Who? where?" I inquired, under the impression that a magistrate wasupon the ground. I had heard of wood-choppers acting as justices of thepeace--in fact, had met with one or two of them--and among the rudeforms that surrounded me there might be one of these. "Where is thejustice?" I demanded. "Oh, he's about--never you fear!" replied one."Whar's the justice?" shouted another. "Ay, whar's the justice?--wharare ye, judge?" cried a third, as if appealing to some one in the crowd."Come on hyar, judge!" he added. "Come along!--hyar's a fellar wantsto see you!"
I really thought the man was in earnest. I really believed there wassuch an individual in the mob. The only impression made upon me wasastonishment at this rudeness towards the magisterial representative ofthe law.
My misconception was short-lived, for at this moment Ruffin--thebandaged and bloody Ruffin--came close up to me; and, after scowlingupon me with his fierce, bloodshot eyes, bent forward until his lipsalmost touched my face, and then hissed out--
"Perhaps, Mister nigger-stealer, you've niver heerd ov _Justice Lynch_?"
A thrill of horror run through my veins. The fearful conviction flashedbefore my mind that _they_ were _going to Lynch me_!