The Entailed Hat; Or, Patty Cannon's Times

by George Alfred Townsend

  CHAPTER XXI.

  LONG SEPARATIONS.

  Vesta was awakened by Roxy, Virgie, and her mother all standing aroundher bed at once, exclaiming something unintelligible together. It waslate morning, the whole family having slept long, after the severalexperiences of two such days, and the sun was shining through the greattrees before Teackle Hall and burnishing the windows, so that Vestacould hardly see.

  "The kitchen servants have run away," Mrs. Custis shrieked, on Vesta'srequest that her mother only should talk. "Old Hominy is gone, and hastaken all her herbs and witcheries with her; and all the young childrenbred in the kitchen, Ned and Vince, the boys, and little Phillis, thebaby, they, too, are gone."

  "I heard a strange cry or howl last night, as I dropped to sleep," Vestaexclaimed, rubbing her eyes.

  "Dear missy," cried Virgie, falling upon the pillow, "it was your poordog Turk; his throat has been cut upon the lawn."

  "Yes, missy," Roxy blubbered, "poor Turk lies in his blood. There isnobody to get breakfast but Virgie and me. Indeed, we did not know aboutit."

  "That is not very likely," said the suspicious Mrs. Custis.

  "I know you did not, girls," Vesta said, "you have too much intelligenceand principle, I am sure; nor could Hominy have been so inhuman to mypoor dog."

  Vesta at once rose up and threw on her morning-gown.

  "The first thing to be done is to have breakfast. Roxy, do you go atonce to Mr. Milburn's and bring his man Samson here, and awake MissHolland to take Samson's place by her uncle. Tell Samson to make thefire, and you and he get the breakfast. No person is to speak of thisincident of the kitchen servants leaving us on any pretence."

  "Won't you give the alarm the first thing?" cried Mrs. Custis, not verywell pleased to see Vesta keep her temper. "They may be overtaken beforethey get far away, daughter. Those four negroes are worth twelve hundreddollars!"

  "They are not worth one dollar, mamma, if they have run away from us;because I should never either sell them or keep them again if they hadbehaved so treacherously."

  "I say, sell them and get the money," Mrs. Custis cried; "are they notours?"

  "No, mamma, they are mine. Mr. Milburn and papa are to be consultedbefore any steps are taken. Papa deeded them to me only last Saturday;why should they have deserted at the moment I had redeemed them? Virgie,can you guess?"

  Virgie hesitated, only a moment.

  "Miss Vesty, I think I can see what made Hominy go. She was afraid ofMeshach Milburn and his queer hat. She believed the devil give it tohim. She thought he had bought her by marrying you, and was going tochristen her to the Bad Man, or do something dreadful with her and thelittle children."

  "That's it, Miss Vessy," plump little Roxy added. "Hominy loved thelittle children dearly; she thought they was to become Meshach's, andshe must save them."

  "Poor, superstitious creature!" Vesta exclaimed.

  "More misery brought about by that fool's hat!" cried Mrs. Custis. "If Iever lay hands on it, it shall end in the fire."

  "No wonder," Vesta said, "that this poor, ignorant woman should doherself such an injury on account of an article of dress that disturbsliberal and enlightened minds! Now I recollect that Hominy saidsomething about having 'got Quaker.' What did it mean?"

  The two slave girls looked at each other significantly, and Virgieanswered,

  "Don't the Quakers help slaves to get off to a free state? Maybe shemeant that."

  "Do you suppose the abolitionists would tamper with a poor old womanlike that, whose liberty would neither be a credit to them nor a comfortto her? I cannot think so meanly of them," Vesta reflected. "Besides,could she have killed my dog?"

  "A gross, ignorant, fetich-worshipping negro would kill a dog, or achild, or anything, when she is possessed with a devil," Mrs. Custisinsisted.

  "I don't believe she killed Turk," Roxy remarked, as she left the room."There was a white man in the kitchen last Saturday night: I think heslept there; master gave him leave."

  "Yes, missy," Virgie continued, after Roxy had gone to obey her orders;"he was a dreadful man, and looked at me so coarse and familiar that Ihave dreamed of him since. It was the man Mr. Milburn knocked down formashing his hat; he was afraid Mr. Milburn would throw him into jail, sohe asked master to hide in the kitchen. But Hominy was almost crazy withfear of Mr. Milburn before that."

  Vesta held up her beautiful arms with a look of despair.

  "What has not that poor old hat brought upon every body?" she cried."Oh, who dares contest the sunshine with the tailor and hatter? They arethe despots that never will abdicate or die."

  "The idea of your father letting a tramp like that sleep in the kitchenamong the slaves!" cried Mrs. Custis. "What obligation had he incurredthere, too, I should like to know? Teackle Hall is become a cave of owlsand foxes; it is time for me to leave it. Here is my husband gone,riding fifty miles for his worst enemy, leaving us without a cook andwithout a man's assistance to discover where ours is gone. I know what Ishall do: I will start this day for Cambridge, to meet my brother, andvisit the Goldsboroughs there till some order is brought out of thisattempt to plant wheat and tares together."

  Vesta stopped a moment and kissed her mother: "That is just the thing,dear mother," she said. "Let me straighten out the difficulties here;go, and come back when all is done, and you can be yourself again."

  "I shall do it, Vesta. Brother Allan gets to Cambridge to-morrowafternoon; I will go as far as Salisbury this day, and either meet himon the road to-morrow or find him at Cambridge. Oh, what a house isTeackle Hall--full of male and female foresters, abolitionists,runaways, and radicals! All made crazy by the bog ores and the fool'shat!"

  Descending to the yard, Vesta found Turk lying in his blood, his mastiffjaws and shaggy sides clotted red, and, as it seemed, the howl in whichhe died still lingering in the air. The Virginia spirit rose in Vesta'seyes:

  "Whoever killed this dog only wanted the courage to kill men!" sheexclaimed. "James Phoebus, look here!"

  The pungy captain had been abroad for hours, and the masts of hisvessel were just visible across the marshy neck in the rear of TeackleHall. He touched his hat and came in.

  "Early mornin', Miss Vesty! Hallo! Turk dead? By smoke, yer'spangymonum!"

  "He's stabbed, Jimmy!" Samson Hat remarked, coming out of the kitchen;"see whar de dagger struck him right over de heart! Dat made him howland fall dead. His froat was not cut dat sudden; it's gashed as if widsomethin' blunt."

  "Right you are, nigger! The throat-cuttin' was a make believe; the stabwill tell the tale. But who's this yer, lurkin' aroun' the kitchen do';if it ain't Jack Wonnell, I hope I may die! Sic!"

  With this, active as the dog had been but yesterday, Jimmy rushed onJack Wonnell, chased him to the fence, and brought him back by the neck.Wonnell wore a bell-crown, and his hand was full of fall blossoms. AsWonnell observed the dead dog, pretty little Roxy came out of thekitchen, and stood blushing, yet frightened, to see him.

  "What yo' doin' with them rosy-posies?" Jimmy demanded. "Who're theyfur? What air you sneakin' aroun' Teackle Hall fur so bright of amornin', lazy as I know you is, Jack Wonnell?"

  "They are flowers he brings every morning for me," Roxy spoke up, comingforward with a pretty simper.

  "For you?" exclaimed Vesta. "You are not receiving the attentions ofwhite men, Roxy?"

  "He offered, himself, to get flowers for me, so I might give you aspretty ones as Virgie, missy. I let him bring them. He's a poor, kindman."

  "I jess got 'em, Jimmy," interjected Jack Wonnell, with his peculiarwink and leer, "caze Roxy's the belle of Prencess Anne, and I'm thebell-crown. She's my little queen, and I ain't ashamed of her."

  "Courtin' niggers, air you!" Jimmy exclaimed, collaring Jack again. "Nowwhar did you go all day Sunday with Levin Dennis and the nigger buyer?What hokey-pokey wair you up to?"

  "Mr. Wonnell," Roxy had the presence of mind to say, "take care you tellthe truth, for my sake! Aunt Hominy is gone, with all the kitchenchildren, and M
r. Phoebus suspects you!"

  "Great lightnin' bugs!" Jimmy Phoebus cried. "The niggers stole, an'the dog dead, too?"

  "I 'spect Jedge Custis sold 'em, Jimmy," Jack Wonnell pleaded, twistingout of the bay captain's hands. "He's gwyn to be sold out by MeshachMilburn. Maybe he jess sold 'em and skipped."

  "Where is Judge Custis, Miss Vesty?" Phoebus asked.

  "He has gone to Delaware, to be absent several days."

  "Is what this bell-crowned fool says, true, Miss Vesty?"

  "No. There was some fear among the kitchen servants of being sold; therewas no such necessity when they ran away, as it had been settled."

  "It is unfortunate that your father is gone. He has been seen with anegro trader. That trader and he disappear the same evening. The traderlives about Delaware, too, Miss Vesty."

  Vesta's countenance fell, as she thought of the suspicion that mightattach to her father. The great old trees around Teackle Hall seemedmoaning together in the air, as if to say, "Ancestors, this is strangeto hear!"

  "Who told you, Jack Wonnell," spoke the bay sailor, "that Judge Custiswas to be sold out?"

  "I won't tell you, Jimmy."

  "I told him," Roxy cried, after an instant's hesitation, while JimmyPhoebus was grinding the stiff bell-crown hat down on Wonnell'ssuffocating muzzle. "I did think we was all going to be sold, and hadnobody to pity me but that poor white man, and I told him as a friend."

  "And I never told anybody in the world but Levin Dennis yisterday," Jackcried out, when he was able to get his breath.

  "Whar did you go, Jack, wid the long man and Levin all day yisterday?"Samson asked.

  "Yes, whar was you?" Jimmy Phoebus shouted, with one of his Greekparoxysms of temper on, as his dark skin and black-cherry eyes flamedvolcanic. "Whar did you leave Ellenora's boy and that infernalsoul-buyer? Speak, or I'll throttle you like this dog!"

  "You let him alone, sir!" little Roxy cried, hotly, "he won't deceiveanybody; he's going to tell all he knows."

  "Let go, Jimmy," Samson said; "don't you see Miss Vesty heah?"

  "Don't scare the man, Mr. Phoebus," Vesta added; "but I command him totell all that he knows, or papa shall commit him to jail."

  Jack Wonnell, taking his place some steps away from Phoebus, andwiping his eyes on his sleeve, whimpering a few minutes, to Roxy's greatagitation, finally told his tale.

  "I'm sorry, Jimmy, you accused me before this beautiful lady an' mypurty leetle Roxy--bless her soul!--of stealing Jedge Custis's niggers.Thair's on'y one I ever looked sheep's eyes at, an' she's a-standin'here, listenin' to every true word I says. I'm pore trash, an' I reckonthe jail's as good as the pore-house for me, ef they want to send methair, fur it's in town, and Roxy kin come an' look through the bars atme every day."

  Roxy was so much affected that she threw her apron up to her face, andVesta and Phoebus had to smile, while Samson Hat, looking indulgentlyon, exclaimed,

  "Dar's love all froo de woods. Doves an' crows can't help it. It'sdeeper down dan fedders an' claws."

  "That nigger trader," continued Jack Wonnell, bell-crown in hand, "hiredme an' Levin to take him a tarrapinin'. He had a bag of gold thatbig"--measuring with his hand in the crown of the hat--"an' he giveLevin some of it, an' I took it to Levin's mother las' night, an' toldher Levin wouldn't be back fur a week, maybe. I thought Mr. Johnson wasgwyn to give me some gold too, so I could buy Roxy, but yer's all hegive me. Everybody disappints me, Jimmy!"

  Jack Wonnell showed an old silver fi'penny bit, and his countenance wasso lugubrious that the sailor exclaimed,

  "Jack, he paid you too well for all the sense you got. Now, whar hasLevin gone with the _Ellenora Dennis?_"

  "I don't know, Jimmy. He made Levin sail her up to the landin' down yerbelow town, whair Levin's father, Cap'n Dennis, launched the _Idy_fifteen year ago. I left Levin thar, and he said, 'Jack, I'm goin' offwith the nigger trader to git some of his money fur mother!'"

  "Poor miserable boy!" Phoebus exclaimed; "he's led off easy as hispore daddy. The man he's gone with, Miss Vesty, is black as hell. JoeJohnson is known to every thief on the bay, every gypsy on the shore. Hesteals free niggers when he can't buy slave ones, outen Delaware state.He sometimes runs away Maryland slaves to oblige their hypocriticalmasters that can't sell 'em publicly, an' Johnson and the bereaved ownerdivides the price. Go in the house, yaller gal!" Jimmy Phoebus turnedto Roxy, who obeyed instantly. "Jack Wonnell, you go too; I'm done withyou!" (Jack slipped around the house and made his peace with Roxy beforehe started.) "You needn't to go, Samson; I know you're true as steel!"

  "I must go an' git de breakfast, Jimmy," the negro said, going in.

  "Now, Miss Vesty"--Phoebus turned to the mistress of TeackleHall--"Joe Johnson has got old Hominy and the little niggers, by smoke!That part of this hokey pokey is purty sure! Did he steal them an'decoy them, or wair they sold to him by Judge Custis or by MeshachMilburn?"

  "By neither, I will risk my life. Mr. Milburn was taken to his bedSaturday evening, and on Sunday father went to Delaware on legalbusiness for my husband."

  "That is Meshach Milburn, I hear," the bay sailor remarked, with apenetrating look. "Shall I go and see him on this nigger business?"

  "No," Vesta replied; "he is too sick, and it is a delicate subject toname to him. My girls, Virgie and Roxy, think old Hominy ran away from asuperstitious fear she had of Mr. Milburn, who had become the master ofTeackle Hall by marriage."

  "Yes, by smoke! every nigger in town, big and little, is afraid ofMilburn's hat."

  "He has no ownership in those servants, nor has my father now. I willtell you, James--relying on your prudence--that Hominy belonged to me,and so did those three children, having passed from my father to myhusband and thence to me and back to my father, and from him to me againin the very hour of my marriage. I fear they have been persuaded away,to be abused and sold out of Maryland."

  Jimmy Phoebus looked up at the sighing trees and over the wide facadeof Teackle Hall, and exclaimed "by smoke!" several times before he madehis conclusions.

  "Miss Vesty," he said, finally, "send for your father to come homeimmediately. People will not understand how Joe Johnson, outlaw as heis, dared to rob a Maryland judge of his house servants, Johnson himselfbein' a Marylander, unless they had some understanding. Your suddenmarriage, an' your pappy's embarrassments, will be put together, bysmoke! an' thar is some blunt enough to say that when Jedge Custis ishard up, he'll git money anyhow!"

  The charge, made with an honest man's want of skill, battered down allexplanations.

  "I confess it," said Vesta. "Papa's going away on a Sunday, and thesepeople disappearing on Sunday night, might excite idle comment. It mightbe said that he endeavored to sell some of his property before hiscreditor could seize it."

  "I have seen you about yer since you was a baby, Vesty, an' Ellenorasays you're better game an' heart than these 'ristocrats, fur who Inever keered! That's why I take the liberty of calling you Vesty. Now,let me tell you about your niggers. If they was a-gwyn to freedom in awhite man's keer, I wouldn't stop 'em to be cap'n of a man-of-war. ButJoe Johnson, supposin' that he's got of 'em, is a demon. Do you see thestab on that dog? well, it's done with one of the bagnet pistols themkidnappers carries--hoss pistols, with a spring dagger on the muzzle;and, when they come to close quarters, they stab with 'em. Johnsonkilled your dog; I know his marks. He sails this whole bay, and maybehe's run them niggers to Washin'ton, or to Norfolk, an' sold 'em south.It ain' no use to foller him to either of them places, if he has, withthe wind an' start he's got, and your pappy's influence lost to us byhis absence. But thar is one chance to overhaul the thief."

  "What is that, James?" said Vesta, earnestly. "I do want to save thosepoor people from the abuse of a man who could kill my poor, fond dog."

  "Joe Johnson keeps a hell-trap--a reg'lar Pangymonum, up near the headof Nanticoke River. It's the headquarters of his band, and a black bandthey air. He has had good wind"--the pungy captain looked up and notedthe breeze--"to get him ou
t of Manokin last night, and into the Sound;but he must beat up the Nanticoke all day, and we kin head him off byland, if that's his destination, before he gits to Vienna, an' make himshow his cargo. Then, with a messenger to follow Jedge Custis an' turnhim back, we can swear these niggers on Johnson--and, you see, we can'tmake no such oath till we git the evidence--an' then, by smoke! we'llbring ole Hominy an' the pore chillen back to Teackle Hall."

  "Here is one you love to serve, James," said Vesta, as the Widow Denniscame in the gate.

  "I came to meet you at the landing, James," said the blue-eyed,sweet-voiced widow, with the timid step and ready blush. "Levin is gonefor a week with a negro trader; he sends me so much money, I fear he isunder an unusual temptation, and Wonnell says the trader is giving himliquor. What shall I do?"

  "Make me his father, Ellenory, and that'll give me an interest over him,and you will command me. You want a first mate in your crew. Levin kinmake a fool of me if I go chase him now, and I can't measure money witha nigger trader, by smoke!"

  "Oh! James," the widow spoke, "you know my heart would be yours if Icould control it. When my way is clear you will have but to ask. Do goand find Levin!"

  "Norah, we suspect the same trader of having taken off Hominy, our cook,and the kitchen children, in Levin's boat."

  The widow listened to Vesta, and burst into tears. "He will be accessoryto the crime," she sobbed. "Oh, this is what I have ever feared. JamesPhoebus, you have always had the best influence over Levin. If youlove me, arrest him before the law takes cognizance of this wild deed.Where has he gone?"

  Virgie appeared upon the lawn to say that Mrs. Custis wanted to know whoshould drive her as far as Salisbury, where she could get a slave of herson-in-law to continue on with her to Cambridge.

  "I have been thinking all the morning where I can find a reliable man togo and bring back papa," Vesta answered; "there are a few slaves at theFurnace, but time is precious."

  "Here is Samson," Virgie said, "and he has got a mule he rides all overthe county. Let him go."

  "Go whar, my love?" asked Samson.

  "To Dover, in Delaware," Vesta answered. "You can ride to Laurel bydark, Samson, and get to Dover to-morrow afternoon."

  "And I can ride with him as far as Salisbury," Jimmy Phoebus said,"and get out to the Nanticoke some way; fur I see Ellenora will cry tillI go."

  "You can do better than that, James," Vesta said, rapidly thinking."Samson can take you to Spring Hill Church or Barren Creek Springs, by alittle deviation, and at the Springs you will be only three miles fromthe Nanticoke. Even mamma might go on with the carriage to-night as faras the Springs, or to Vienna."

  "If two of them are going," Virgie exclaimed, "one can drive MissyCustis and the other ride the mule."

  Samson shook his head.

  "Dey say a free nigger man gits cotched up in dat ar Delawaw state.Merrylin's good enough fur me. I likes de Merrylin light gals de best,"looking at Virgie.

  "Go now, Samson, to oblige Miss Vesty," Virgie said, "and I'll try tolove you a little, black and bad as you are."

  "I'se afraid of Delawaw state," Samson repeated, laughing slowly. "JoeJohnson, dat I put dat head on, will git me whar he lives if I go dar,mebbe."

  "No," Phoebus put in, "I'll be a lookin' after him on the banks of theNanticoke, Samson, while you keep right in the high-road from Laurel toGeorgetown, and on to Dover. Joe Johnson's been whipped at the post, andbanished from Delaware for life, and dussn't go thar no more."

  "If you go, Samson," little Roxy put in, having reappeared, "Virgie'llfeel complimented. Anything that obliges Miss Vesty counts with Virgie."

  "If you are a free man," Virgie herself exclaimed, her slight, nervous,willowy figure expanding, "are you afraid to go into a freer state thanMaryland? If I was free I would want to go to the freest state of all.Behave like a free man, Samson Hat, or what is freedom worth to you?"

  "It's wuth so much, pretty gal, dat I don't want to be a-losin' of it,mind, I tell you, 'sept to my wife when she'll hab me."

  Samson watched the quadroon's delicate, high-bred features, her skinalmost paler than her young mistress's, her figure like the clove'safter a hard winter--the more active that a little meagre--her headsmall, and its tresses soft as the crow blackbird's plumage, and theloyalty that lay in her large eyes, like strong passion, for hermistress, was turned to pride, and nearly scorn, when they listened tohim.

  "A slave, Miss Vesty says"--Virgie spoke with almost fierceness--"is notone that's owned, half as much as one that sells himself--to hard drink,or to selfishness, or to fear. You're not a free man, Samson, if you'reafraid, and are like these low slave negroes who dare nothing if theycan only get a little low pleasure. All that can make a black man white,in my eyes, is a white man's enterprise."

  Vesta felt, as she often had done, the capable soul of her servant, anddid not resent her spirit as unbecoming a slave, but rather feltresponsive chords in her own nature, as if, indeed, Virgie was the moreimperious of the two. Coming now into full womanhood, her race elementsfinding their composition, her character unrestrained by any one inTeackle Hall, Virgie was her young mistress's shield-bearer, like Davidto the princely Jonathan.

  "Why, Virgie," Samson answered, with humility, "I never meant not to go,lady gal, after marster's wife asked me, I only wanted you to beg mehard, an' mebbe I'd git a kiss befo' I started."

  "Wait till you come back, and see if you do your errand well," Virgiespoke again. "I shall not kiss you now."

  "I will," cried little Roxy, to the amusement of them all, giving Samsona hearty smack from her little pouting mouth; "and now you've got it,think it's Virgie's kiss, and get your breakfast and start!"

  As they went to their abodes to make ready, Jimmy Phoebus found JackWonnell playing marbles with the boys at the court-house corner.

  "Jack," he said, "I'm a-going to find Levin an' that nigger trader. Imay git in a peck of trouble up yonder on the Nanticoke. Tell all thepungy men whair I'm a-goin', an' what fur."

  "Can't I do somethin' fur you, Jimmy? Can't I give you one o' mybell-crowns; thair's a-plenty of 'em left."

  "Take my advice, Jack, an' tie a stone to all them hats and sink' em inthe Manokin. Ole Meshach's hat has made more hokey-pokey than the Bankof Somerset. Pore an' foolish as you air, maybe your ole bell-crownswill ruin you."

  The road to Salisbury--laid out in 1667, when "Cecil, Lord of Marylandand Avalon," erected a county "in honor of our dear sister, the LadyMary Somerset"--followed the beaver-dams across the little river-heads,and pierced the flat pine-woods and open farms, and passed through twolittle hamlets, before our travellers saw the broad mill-ponds andpoplar and mulberry lined streets of the most active town--albeitwithout a court-house--in the lower peninsula. Jimmy Phoebus, drivingthe two horses and the family carriage, and Samson, following on hismule, descended into the hollow of Salisbury at the dinner-hour, andstopped at the hotel. The snore of grist-mills, the rasp of mill-saws,the flow of pine-colored breast-water into the gorge of the village, theforest cypress-trees impudently intruding into the obliquely-radiatingstreets, and humidity of ivy and creeper over many of the old,gable-chimneyed houses, the long lumber-yards reflected in the swampyharbor among the canoes, pungies, and sharpies moored there, the smallhouses sidewise to the sandy streets, the larger ones rising up thesandy hills, the old box-bush in the silvery gardens, the bridges closetogether, and the smell of tar and sawdust pleasantly inhaled upon thelungs, made a combination like a caravan around some pool in the Desertof the Nile.

  "If there is any chance to catch my negroes," Mrs. Custis said, "I willgo right on after dinner. Samson, send Dave, my daughter's boy, to meimmediately; he is working in this hotel."

  Samson found Dave to be none other than the black class-leader he hadfailed to overcome at the beginning of our narrative, but changes werevisible in that individual Samson had not expected. From having a clean,godly, modest countenance, becoming his professions, Dave now wore asour, evil look; his eyes were blood-shotten, and his
straight, manlyshoulders and chest, which had once exacted Samson's admiration andenvy, were stooped to conform with a cough he ever and anon made fromdeep in his frame.

  "Dave," said Samson, "your missis's modder wants you, boy, to drive herto Vienny. What ails you, Dave, sence I larned you to box?"

  "Is you de man?" Dave exclaimed, hoarsely; "den may de Lord forgive you,fur _I_ never kin. Dat lickin' I mos' give you, made me a po', wicked,backslidin' fool."

  "Why, Dave, I jess saw you was a _good_ man; I didn't mean you no harm,boy."

  "You ruined me, free nigger," repeated the huge slave, with a scowl,partly of revenge and partly remorse. "You set up my conceit dat I couldbox. I had never struck a chile till dat day; after dat I went aroun'pickin' quarrels wid bigger niggers, an' low white men backed me tofight. I was turned out o' my church; I turned my back on de Lord;whiskey tuk hold o' me, Samson. De debbil has entered into Class-leaderDave."

  "Oh, brudder, wake up an' do better. Yer, I give you a dollar, an' wantto be your friend, Davy, boy."

  "I'll git drink wid it," Dave muttered, going; and, as he passed out ofthe stable-door he looked back at Samson fiercely, and exclaimed, "MaySatan burn your body as he will burn my soul. I hate you, man, long asyou live!"

  Jimmy Phoebus remarked, a few moments afterwards, that Dave, dividinga pint of spirits with a lean little mulatto boy, put a piece of moneyin the boy's hands, who then rode rapidly out of the tavern-yard upon afleet Chincoteague pony.

  At two o'clock they again set forward, the man Dave driving the carriageand Jimmy Phoebus sitting beside him, while Samson easily keptalongside upon his old roan mule, the road becoming more sandy as theyascended the plateau between the Wicomico and Nanticoke, and thecarriage drawing hard.

  "If it is too late to keep on beyond Vienna to-night," said Mrs. Custis,"I will stop there with my friends, the Turpins, and start again, aftercoffee, in the morning, and reach Cambridge for breakfast."

  "I will turn off at Spring Hill," Samson spoke, "and I kin feed my muleat sundown in Laurel an' go to sleep."

  In an hour they came in sight of old Spring Hill church, a venerablerelic of the colonial Established Church, at the sources of a creekcalled Rewastico; and before they crossed the creek the driver, Dave,called "Ho, ho!" in such an unnecessarily loud voice that Mrs. Custisreproved him sharply. Dave jumped down from the seat and appeared to beexamining some part of the breeching, though Samson assured him that itwas all right. As Dave finished his examination, he raised both handsabove his head twice, and stretched to the height of his figure as hestood on the brow of a little hill.

  "Missy Custis," he apologized, as he turned back, "I is tired mighty baddis a'ternoon. Dat stable keeps me up half de night."

  "Liquor tires you more, David," Mrs. Custis spoke, sharply; "and thattavern is no place to hire you to with your appetite for drink, as Ishall tell your master."

  At this moment Jimmy Phoebus observed the lean little mulatto boy whohad left the hotel come up out of the swampy place in the road andexchange a look of intelligence with Dave as he rode past on the pony.

  "Boy," cried Samson, "is dat de road to Laurel?"

  The boy made no answer, but, looking back once, timidly, ground hisheels into the pony's flank and darted into the brush towards Salisbury.

  "Samson," spoke Dave, "you see dat ole woman in de cart yonder?"--hepointed to a figure ascending the rise in the ground beyond thebrook--"I know her, an' she's gwyn right to Laurel. She lives dar. It'sten miles from dis yer turn-off, an' she knows all dese yerwoods-roads."

  "Good-bye, den, an' may you find Aunt Hominy an' de little chillen,Jimmy, an' bring dem all home to Prencess Anne from dat ar Joe Johnson!"cried Samson, and trotted his mule through the swamp and away. JimmyPhoebus saw him overtake the old woman in the cart and begin to speakwith her as the scrubby woods swallowed them in.

  "What's dat he said about Joe Johnson?" observed Dave, after a badspell of coughing, as they cleared the old church and entered the sandypine-woods.

  Mrs. Custis spoke up more promptly than Jimmy Phoebus desired, andtold the negro about the escape of Hominy and the children, and the hopeof Mr. Phoebus to head the party off as they ascended the Nanticoketowards the Delaware state-line.

  "You don't want to git among Joe Johnson's men, boss?" said the red-eyednegro; "dey bosses all dis country heah, on boff sides o' de state-line.All dat ain't in wid dem is afraid o' dem."

  "How fur is it from this road to Delaware, Dave?" asked Phoebus.

  "We're right off de corner-stone o' Delawaw state dis very minute. It'shardly a mile from whar we air. De corner's squar as de stone dat sotson it, an' is cut wid a pictur o' de king's crown."

  "Mason and Dixon's line they call it," interpreted Mrs. Custis.

  "Do you know Joe Johnson, Dave?"

  "Yes, Marster Phoebus, you bet I does. He's at Salisbury, he's atVienna, he's up yer to Crotcher's Ferry, he's all ober de country, buthe don't go to Delawaw any more in de daylight. He was whipped dar, an'banished from de state on pain o' de gallows. But he lives jess on disside o' de Delawaw line, so dey can't git him in Delawaw. He calls hisplace Johnson's Cross-roads: ole Patty Cannon lives dar, too. She'safraid to stay in Delawaw now."

  "Why, what is the occupation of those terrible people at present?" askedMrs. Custis.

  No answer was made for a minute, and then Dave said, in a low,frightened voice, as he stole a glance at both of his companions out ofhis fiery, scarred eyes:

  "Kidnappin', I 'spect."

  "It's everything that makes Pangymonum," Jimmy Phoebus explained;"that old woman, Patty Cannon, has spent the whole of a wicked life, bysmoke!--or ever sence she came to Delaware from Cannady, as the bride ofpore Alonzo Cannon--a-makin' robbers an' bloodhounds out of the youngmen she could git hold of. Some of' em she sets to robbin' the mails,some to makin' an' passin' of counterfeit money, but most of 'em shesets at stealin' free niggers outen the State of Delaware; and, whenit's safe, they steal slaves too. She fust made a tool of EbenezerJohnson, the pirate of Broad Creek, an' he died in his tracks a-fightinfur her. Then she took hold of his sons, Joe Johnson an' young Ebenezer,an' made 'em both outlaws an' kidnappers, an' Joe she married to herdaughter, when Bruington, her first son-in-law, had been hanged. WhenSamson Hat, who is the whitest nigger I ever found, knocked Joe Johnsondown in Princess Anne, the night before last, he struck the worst man inour peninsula."

  Dave listened to this recital with such a deep interest that his breath,strong with apple whiskey, came short and hot, and his hands trembled ashe guided the horses. At the last words, he exclaimed:

  "Samson knocked Joe Johnson down? Den de debbil has got him, and meansto pay him back!"

  "What's that?" cried Jimmy Phoebus.

  The sweat stood on the big slave's forehead, as if his imagination wasterribly possessed, but before he could explain Mrs. Custis interrupted:

  "I think it was said that old Patty Cannon corrupted Jake Purnell, whocut his throat at Snow Hill five years ago. He was a free negro whoengaged slaves to steal other slaves and bring them to him, and hedelivered them up to the white kidnappers for money; and nobody couldaccount for his prosperity till a negro who had been beaten to death wasfound in the Pocomoke River, and three slaves who had been seen in hiscompany were arrested for the murder. They confessed that they hadstolen the dead negro and he had escaped from them, and was so beatenwith clubs, to make him tractable, that when they gave him to Purnellhis life was all gone. Then he was thrown in the river, but his bodycame up after sinking, and the confession of the wretched toolsexplained to the slave-owners where all their missing negroes had gone.They marched and surrounded Purnell's hut, and he was discoveredburrowed beneath it. They brought the dogs, and fire to drive him out,and as he came out he cut his throat with desperate slashes from ear toear."

  During this narrative the man Dave had listened with rising nervousexcitement, rolling his eyes as if in strong inward torment, till theconcluding words inspired such terror in him that he dropped
the reins,threw back his head, and shouted, with large beads of sweat all roundhis brow:

  "Mercy! mercy! Have mercy! Save me, oh, my Lord!"

  "He's got a fit, I reckon," cried Jimmy Phoebus, promptly grasping thereins as the horses started at the cry, and with his leg pinning Dave tothe carriage-seat. At that moment the road descended into the hollow ofBarren Creek, and, leaping down at the old Mineral Springs Hotel, ahealth resort of those days, Phoebus humanely procured water andfreshened up the gasping negro's face.

  "I declare, I am almost afraid to trust myself to this man," Mrs. Custisobserved, with more distaste than trepidation.

  "Every nigger in this region," exclaimed Jimmy Phoebus, "thinksPangymonum's comin' down at the dreaded name of Patty Cannon; an' thisnigger's gone most to ruin, any way."

  "Oh, marster," exclaimed the slave, recovering his speech and glaringwildly around, "I hain't been always the pore sinner rum an' fightin'has made of me. I served the Lord all my youth; I praised his name an'kept the road to heaven; an' thinkin' of the shipwreck I'se made of agood conscience, an' hearin' missis tell of the end of Jake Purnell, itmade me yell to de good Lord for mercy, mercy, oh, my soul!"

  His frightful agitation increased, and Jimmy Phoebus soothed him,good-naturedly saying:

  "Mrs. Custis, I reckon you'd better let him come in the tavern and takea little sperits; it'll strengthen his nerves an' make him drivebetter."

  As they drank at the old summer-resort bar, at that time in the heightof its celebrity, and the only _spa_ on the peninsula, south of theBrandywine Springs, Phoebus spoke low to the negro:

  "Dave, somethin' not squar and fair is a-workin' yer, by smoke! I've gotmy eye on you, nigger, an' sure as hokey-pokey thair it'll stay. Youknow my arrand yer, Dave: to save a pore, ignorant, deluded black womanfrom Joe Johnson's band. Now, you've been a-cryin 'Mercy!' I want you toshow mercy by a-tellin' of me whar I'm to overtake an' sarch LevinDennis's cat-boat if it comes up the Nanticoke to-night with them peopleand Joe Johnson aboard!"

  Having swallowed his liquor greedily, the colored man replied, with hisformer lowering countenance and evasive eyes:

  "You can't do nothin' as low down de river as Vienny, 'case de Nanticokeis too wide dar, and if you cross it at Vienny ferry, den you got deNorfwest Fork between you and Johnson's Cross-roads, wid one ferry overdat, at Crotcher's, an' Joe Johnson owns all dat place. But you kin keepup dis side o' de Nanticoke, Marster Phoebus, de same distance as fromyer to Vienny, to de pint whar de Norfwest Fork come in. Sometimes JoeJohnson sails up dat big fork to get to his cross-roads. In gineral hekeeps straight up de oder fork to Betty Twiford's wharf, right on deboundary line."

  "How far is that?"

  "It's five miles from yer to Vienny, and five miles from yer to alandin' opposite de Norfwest Fork. Four miles furder on you're atSharptown, an' dar you can see Betty Twiford's house on de bank twomiles acrost de Nanticoke."

  "Nine miles, then, to Sharptown! He's had the tide agin him since heentered the Nanticoke, and it's not turned yit. By smoke! I'll look fora conveyance!"

  "You can ride with me to the first landing," spoke up a noble-lookingman, whip in hand; "and after delaying a little there, I shall go on theSharptown ferry and cross the river."

  Phoebus accepted the invitation immediately, and cautioning Mrs.Custis to speak with less freedom in that part of the country, he badeher adieu, and took the vacant seat in the stranger's buggy.

  When Mrs. Custis came to Vienna ferry, and the horses and carriage wenton board the scow to be rowed to the little, old, shipping settlement ofthat name, the negro Dave, standing at the horses' heads, exchanged afew sentences with the ferry-keeper.

  "Dave," called Mrs. Custis, a little later on, "you have no love, I see,for old Samson."

  "He made a boxer outen me an' a bad man, missis."

  "Do you know the man he works for--Meshach Milburn?"

  "No, missis. I never see him."

  "He wears a peculiar hat--nothing like gentlemen's hats nowadays: it isa hat out of a thousand."

  "I never did see it, missis."

  "You cannot mistake it for any other hat in the world. Now, Samson isthe only servant and watchman at Mr. Milburn's store, and he attends tothat disgraceful hat. If you can ever get it from him, Dave, and destroyit, you will be doing a useful act, and I will reward you well."

  The moody negro looked up from his remorseful, brutalized orbs, andsaid:

  "Steal it?"

  "Oh, no, I do not advise a theft, David--though such a wretched hat canhave no legal value. It is an affliction to my daughter and Judge Custisand all of us, and you might find some way to destroy it--that is all."

  "I'll git it some day," the negro muttered; and drove into the oldtobacco-port of Vienna.