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Chapter Seventy Six
A Terrible Fate
I saw no more of Aurore. Neither was the black brought along. I could gather from the conversation of my captors, that they were to be taken in one of the skiffs that had stayed behind – that they were to be landed at a different point from that to which we were steering. I could gather, too, that the poor Bambarra was doomed to a terrible punishment – 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 had now to listen to. My betrothed and myself were reviled with a disgusting 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 of relict to me when the pirogue again passed in among the trunks of the cypress-trees, and their dark shadow half concealed my face from the view of my captors. I was brought back to the landing by the old tree-trunk.
On nearing this I saw that a crowd of men awaited us on the shore; and among them I recognised the ferocious Ruffin, with his arm slung in his red kerchief, bandaged and bloody. He was standing up with the rest.
“Thank Heaven! I have not killed him!” was my mental ejaculation. “So much the less have I to answer for.”
The canoes and skiffs – with the exception of that which carried Aurore and the black – had all arrived at this point, and my captors were landing. In all there were some thirty or forty men, with a proportion of half-grown boys. Most of them were armed with either pistols or rifles. Under the grey gloom of the trees, they presented a picturesque tableau; 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 and another immediately at my back, I was marched off through the woods. The crowd accompanied us, some in the advance, some behind, while others walked alongside. These were the boys and the more brutal of the men who occasionally taunted me with rude speech.
I might have lost patience and grown angry, had that served me; but I knew it would only give pleasure to my tormentors, without bettering my condition. I therefore observed silence, and kept my eyes averted or turned upon the ground.
We passed on rapidly – as fast as the crowd could make way through the bushes – and I was glad of this. I presumed I was about to be conducted before a magistrate, or “justice of the peace,” as there called. Well, thought I. Under legal authority, and in the keeping of the officers, I should be protected from the gibes and insults that were being showered upon me. Everything short of personal violence was offered; and there were some that seemed sufficiently disposed even for this.
I saw the forest opening in front. I supposed we had gone by some shorter way to the clearings. It was not so, for the next moment we emerged into the glade. Again the glade!
Here my captors came to a halt; and now in the open light I had an opportunity to know who they were. At a glance I saw that I was in the hands of a desperate crowd.
Gayarre himself was in their midst, and beside him his own overseer, and the negro-trader, and the brutal Larkin. With these were some half-dozen Creole-Frenchmen of the poorer class of proprietaires, weavers of cottonade, or small planters. The rest of the mob was composed of the very scum of the settlement – the drunken boatmen whom I had used to see gossiping in front of the “groceries,” and other dissipated rowdies of the place. Not one respectable planter appeared upon the ground – not one respectable man!
For what had they stopped in the glade? I was impatient to be taken before 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’ll find out soon enough, I reckon.”
“I protest against this,” I continued. “I insist upon being taken before the justice.”
“An’ so ye will, damn you! You ain’t got far to go. The justice is hyar.”
“Who? where?” I inquired, under the impression that a magistrate was upon the ground. I had heard of wood-choppers acting as justices of the peace – in fact, had met with one or two of them – and among the rude forms that surrounded me there might be one of these. “Where is the justice?” I demanded. “Oh, he’s about – never you fear!” replied one. “Whar’s the justice?” shouted another. “Ay, whar’s the justice? – whar are 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 wants to see you!”
I really thought the man was in earnest. I really believed there was such an individual in the mob. The only impression made upon me was astonishment at this rudeness towards the magisterial representative of the law.
My misconception was short-lived, for at this moment Ruffin – the bandaged and bloody Ruffin – came close up to me; and, after scowling upon me with his fierce, bloodshot eyes, bent forward until his lips almost 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 flashed before my mind that they were going to Lynch me!
Chapter Seventy Seven
The Sentence of Judge Lynch
An undefined suspicion of something of this sort had already crossed my thoughts. I remembered the reply made from the boats, “You shall answer to us. We are the law.” I had heard some mysterious innuendoes as we passed through the woods – I had noticed too, that on our arrival in the glade, we found those who had gone in the advance halted there, as if waiting for the others to come up; and I could not comprehend why we had stopped there at all.
I now saw that the men of the party were drawing to one side, and forming a sort of irregular ring, with that peculiar air of solemnity that bespeaks some serious business. It was only the boys, and some negroes – for these, too, had taken part in our capture – who remained near me. Ruffin had simply approached to gratify his revengeful feelings by tantalising me.
All these appearances had aroused wild suspicions within me, but up to that moment they had assumed no definite form. I had even endeavoured to keep back such a suspicion, under the vague belief, that by the very imagination of it, I might in some way aid in bringing it about!
It was no longer suspicion. It was now conviction. They were going to Lynch me!
The significant interrogatory, on account of the manner in which it was put, was hailed by the boys with a shout of laughter. Ruffin continued —
“No; I guess you han’t heerd ov that ar justice, since yur a stranger in these parts, an’ a Britisher. You han’t got sich a one among yur bigwigs, I reckin. He’s the fellar that ain’t a-goin’ to keep you long in Chancery. No, by God! he’ll do yur business in double-quick time. Hell and scissors! yu’ll see if he don’t.”
Throughout all this speech the brutal fellow taunted me with gestures as well as words – drawing from his auditory repeated bursts of laughter.
So provoked was I that, had I not been fast bound, I should have sprung upon him; but, bound as I was, and vulgar brute as was this adversary, I could not hold my tongue.
“Were I free, you ruffian, you would not dare taunt me thus. At all events you have come off but second best. I’ve crippled you for life; though it don’t matter much, seeing what a clumsy use you make of a rifle.”
This speech produced a terrible effect upon the brute – the more so that the boys now laughed at him. These boys were not all bad. They were incensed against me as an Abolitionist – or “nigger-stealer,” as they phrased it – and, under the countenance and guidance of their elders, their worst passions were now at play; but for all that, they were not essentially wicked. They were rough backwoods’ boys, and the spirit of my retort pleased them. After that they held back from jeering me.
Not so with Ruffin, who now broke forth into a string of vindictive oaths and menaces, and appeared as if about to grapple me with his one remaining hand. At this moment he was called off by the men, who needed him in the “caucus;” and, after shaking his fist in my face, and uttering a parting imprecation, he left me.
I was for some minutes kept in suspense. I could not tell what this dread council were debating, or what they meant to do with me – though I now felt quite certain that they did not intend taking me before any magistrate. From frequent phrases that reached my ears, such as, “flog the scoundrel,” “tar and feathers,” I began to conjecture that some such punishment awaited me. To my astonishment, however, I found, upon listening a while, that a number of my judges were actually opposed to these punishments as being too mild! Some declared openly, that nothing but my life could satisfy the outraged laws!
The majority took this view of the case; and it was to add to their strength that Ruffin had been summoned!
A feeling of terrible fear crept over me – say rather a feeling of horror – but it was only complete when the ring of men suddenly broke up, and I saw two of their number lay hold of a rope, and commence reeving it over the limb of a gum-tree that stood by the edge of the glade.
There had been a trial and a sentence too. Even Judge Lynch has his formality.
When the rope was adjusted, one of the men – the negro-trader it was – approached me; and in a sort of rude paraphrase of a judge, summed up and pronounced the sentence!
I had outraged the laws; I had committed two capital crimes. I had stolen slaves, and endeavoured to take away the life of a fellow-creature. A jury of twelve men had tried – and found me guilty; and sentenced me to death by hanging. Even this was not permitted to go forth in an informal manner. The very phraseology was adopted. I was to be hung by the neck until I should be dead – dead!
You will deem this relation exaggerated and improbable. You will think that I am sporting with you. You will not believe that such lawlessness can exist in a Christian – a civilised land. You will fancy that these men were sporting with me, and that in the end they did not seriously intend to hang me.
I cannot help it if you think so; but I solemnly declare that such was their design: and I felt as certain at that moment that they intended to have hanged me, as I now feel that I was not hanged!
Believe it or not, you must remember that I would not have been the first victim by many, and that thought was vividly before my mind at the time.
Along with it, there was the rope – there the tree – there stood my judges before me. Their looks alone might have produced conviction. There was not a ray of mercy to be seen.
At that awful moment I knew not what I said or how I acted.
I remember only that my fears were somewhat modified by my indignation. That I protested, menaced, swore – that my ruthless judges answered me with mockery.
They were actually proceeding to put the sentence into execution – and had already carried me across to the foot of the tree – when the sound of trampling hoofs fell upon our ears, and the next moment a party of horsemen galloped into the glade.
Chapter Seventy Eight
In the Hands of the Sheriff
At sight of these horsemen my heart leaped with joy, for among the foremost I beheld the calm, resolute face of Edward Reigart. Behind him rode the sheriff of the parish, followed by a “posse” of about a dozen men – among whom I recognised several of the most respectable planters of the neighbourhood. Every one of the party was armed either with a rifle or pistols; and the manner in which they rode forward upon the ground, showed that they had come in great haste, and with a determined purpose.
I say my heart leaped with joy. An actual criminal standing upon the platform of the gallows could not have been more joyed at sight of the messenger that brought him reprieve or pardon. In the new-comers I recognised friends: in their countenances I read rescue. I was not displeased, therefore, when the sheriff, dismounting, advanced to my side, and placing his hand upon my shoulder, told me I was his prisoner “in the name of the law.” Though brusquely done, and apparently with a degree of rudeness, I was not displeased either by the act or the manner. The latter was plainly assumed for a purpose; and in the act itself I hailed the salvation of my life. I felt like a rescued man.
The proceeding did not equally content my former judges, who loudly murmured their dissatisfaction. They alleged that I had already been tried by a jury of twelve free citizens– that I had been found guilty of nigger-stealing – that I had stolen two niggers– that I had resisted when pursued, and had “wownded” one of my pursuers; and that, as all this had been “clarly made out,” they couldn’t see what more was wanted to establish my guilt, and that I ought to be hung on the spot, without further loss of time.
The sheriff replied that such a course would be illegal; that the majesty of the law must be respected; that if I was guilty of the crimes alleged against me, the law would most certainly measure out full punishment to me; but that I must first be brought before a justice, and the charge legally and formally made out; and, finally, expressed his intention to take me before Justice Claiborne, the magistrate of the district.
An angry altercation ensued between the mob and the sheriffs party – in which but slight show of respect was paid to the high executive – and for some time I was actually in dread that the ruffians would carry their point. But an American sheriff is entirely a different sort of character from the idle gentleman who fills that office in an English county. The former is, in nine cases out of ten, a man of proved courage and action; and Sheriff Hickman, with whom my quasi judges had to deal, was no exception to this rule. His “posse,” moreover, hurriedly collected by my friend Reigart, chanced to have among their number several men of a similar stamp. Reigart himself, though a man of peace, was well-known to possess a cool and determined spirit; and there was the landlord of my hotel, and several of the planters who accompanied several of the young planters, behaved in a handsome manner; and the law prevailed.
Yes! thank Heaven and half-a-dozen noble men, the law prevailed – else I should never have gone out of that glade alive!
Justice Lynch had to give way to Justice Claiborne, and a respite was obtained from the cruel verdict of the former. The victorious sheriff and his party bore me off in their midst.
But though my ferocious judges had yielded for the present, it was not certain that they would not still attempt to rescue me from the hands of the law. To prevent this, the sheriff mounted me upon a horse – he himself riding upon one side, while an assistant of tried courage took the opposite. Reigart and the planters kept close to me before and behind; while the shouting, blaspheming mob followed both on horseback and afoot. In this way we passed through the woods, across the fields, along the road leading into Bringiers, and then to the residence of “Squire” Claiborne – Justice of the Peace for that district.
Attached to his dwelling was a large room or office where the Squire was used to administer the magisterial law of the land. It was entered by a separate door from the house itself, and had no particular marks about it to denote that it was a hall of justice, beyond the fact that it was furnished with a bench or two to serve as seats, and a small desk or rostrum in one corner.
At this desk the Squire was in the habit of settling petty disputes, administering affidavits at a quarter of a dollar each, and arranging other small civic matters. But oftener was his magisterial function employed in sentencing the mutinous “darkie” to his due the sheriff – sterling men, who were lovers of the law and lovers of fair play as well – and those, armed to the teeth, would have laid down their lives on the spot in defence of the sheriff and his demand. True, they were in the minority in point of numbers; but they had the law upon their side, and that gave them strength.
There was one point in my favour above all others, and that was, my accusers chanced to be unpopular men. Gayarre, as already stated, although professing a high standard of morality, was not esteemed by the neighbouring planters – particularly by those of American origin. The others most forward against me were known to be secretly instigated by the lawyer. As to Ruffin, whom I had “wounded,” those upon the ground had heard the crack of his rifle, and knew that he had fired first. In their calmer moments my resistance would have been deemed perfectly justifiable – so far as that individual was concerned.
Had the circumstances been different – had the “two niggers” I had stolen belonged to a popular planter, and not to Monsieur Dominique Gayarre – had Ruffin been a respectable citizen, instead of the dissipated half outlaw that he was – had there not been a suspicion in the minds of many present that it was not a case of ordinary nigger-stealing, then indeed might it have gone ill with me, in spite of the sheriff and his party.
Even as it was, a long and angry altercation ensued – loud words, oaths, and gestures of menace, were freely exchanged – and both rifles and pistols were cocked and firmly grasped before the discussion ended.
But the brave sheriff remained resolute; Reigart acted a most courageous part; my ci-devant host, and proportion of stripes on the complaint of a conscientious master – for, after all, such theoretical protection does the poor slave enjoy.
Into this room, then, was I hurried by the sheriff and his assistants – the mob rushing in after, until every available space was occupied.
Chapter Seventy Nine
The Crisis
No doubt a messenger had preceded us, for we found Squire Claiborne in his chair of office, ready to hear the case. In the tall, thin old man, with white hair and dignified aspect, I recognised a fit representative of justice – one of those venerable magistrates, who command respect not only by virtue of age and office, but from the dignity of their personal character. In spite of the noisy rabble that surrounded me, I read in the serene, firm look of the magistrate the determination to show fair play.
I was no longer uneasy. On the way, Reigart had told me to be of good cheer. He had whispered something about “strange developments to be made;” but I had not fully heard him, and was at a loss to comprehend what he meant. In the hurry and crush I had found no opportunity for an explanation.
“Keep up your spirits!” said he, as he pushed his horse alongside me. “Don’t have any fear about the result. It’s rather an odd affair, and will have an odd ending – rather unexpected for somebody, I should say – ha! ha! ha!”
Reigart actually laughed aloud, and appeared to be in high glee! What could such conduct mean?
I was not permitted to know, for at that moment the sheriff, in a high tone of authority, commanded that no one should “hold communication with the prisoner;” and my friend and I were abruptly separated. Strange, I did not dislike the sheriff for this! I had a secret belief that his manner – apparently somewhat hostile to me – was assumed for a purpose. The mob required conciliation; and all this brusquerie was a bit of management on the part of Sheriff Hickman.
On arriving before Justice Claiborne, it required all the authority of both sheriff and justice to obtain silence. A partial lull, however, enabled the latter to proceed with the case.
“Now, gentlemen!” said he, speaking in a firm, magisterial tone, “I am ready to hear the charge against this young man. Of what is he accused, Colonel Hickman?” inquired the justice, turning to the sheriff.
“Of negro-stealing, I believe,” replied the latter.
“Who prefers the charge?”
“Dominique Gayarre,” replied a voice from the crowd, which I recognised as that of Gayarre himself.
“Is Monsieur Gayarre present?” inquired the justice.
The voice again replied in the affirmative, and the fox-like face of the avocat now presented itself in front of the rostrum.
“Monsieur Dominique Gayarre,” said the magistrate, recognising him, “what is the charge you bring against the prisoner? State it in full and upon oath.”
Gayarre having gone through the formula of the oath, proceeded with his plaint in true lawyer style.
I need not follow the circumlocution of legal phraseology. Suffice it to say, that there were several counts in his indictment.
I was first accused of having endeavoured to instigate to mutiny and revolt the slaves of the plantation Besançon, by having interfered to prevent one of their number from receiving his just punishment! Secondly, I had caused another of these to strike down his overseer; and afterwards had induced him to run away to the woods, and aided him in so doing! This was the slave Gabriel, who had just that day been captured in my company. Thirdly and Gayarre now came to the cream of his accusation.
“Thirdly,” continued he, “I accuse this person of having entered my house on the night of October the 18th, and having stolen therefrom the female slave Aurore Besançon.”
“It is false!” cried a voice, interrupting him. “It is false! Aurore Besançon is not a slave!”
Gayarre started, as though some one had thrust a knife into him.
“Who says that?” he demanded, though with a voice that evidently faltered.
“I!” replied the voice; and at the same instant a young man leaped upon one of the benches, and stood with his head overtopping the crowd. It was D’Hauteville!
“I say it!” he repeated, in the same firm tone. “Aurore Besançon is no slave, but a free Quadroon! Here, Justice Claiborne,” continued D’Hauteville, “do me the favour to read this document!” At the same time the speaker handed a folded parchment across the room.
The sheriff passed it to the magistrate, who opened it and read aloud.
It proved to be the “free papers” of Aurore the Quadroon – the certificate of her manumission – regularly signed and attested by her master, Auguste Besançon, and left by him in his will.
The astonishment was extreme – so much so that the crowd seemed petrified, and preserved silence. Their feelings were on the turn.
The effect produced upon Gayarre was visible to all. He seemed covered with confusion. In his embarrassment he faltered out —
“I protest against this – that paper has been stolen from my bureau, and – ”
“So much the better, Monsieur Gayarre!” said D’Hauteville, again interrupting him; “so much the better! You confess to its being stolen, and therefore you confess to its being genuine. Now, sir, having this document in your possession, and knowing its contents, how could you claim Aurore Besançon as your slave?”
Gayarre was confounded. His cadaverous face became of a white, sickly hue; and his habitual look of malice rapidly gave way to an expression of terror. He appeared as if he wanted to be gone; and already crouched behind the taller men who stood around him.
“Stop, Monsieur Gayarre!” continued the inexorable D’Hauteville, “I have not done with you yet. Here, Justice Claiborne! I have another document that may interest you. Will you have the goodness to give it your attention?”
Saying this, the speaker held out a second folded parchment, which was handed to the magistrate – who, as before, opened the document and read it aloud.
This was a codicil to the will of Auguste Besançon, by which the sum of fifty thousand dollars in bank stock was bequeathed to his daughter, Eugénie Besançon, to be paid to her upon the day on which she should be of age by the joint executors of the estate – Monsieur Dominique Gayarre and Antoine Lereux – and these executors were instructed not to make known to the recipient the existence of this sum in her favour, until the very day of its payment.
“Now, Monsieur Dominique Gayarre!” continued D’Hauteville, as soon as the reading was finished, “I charge you with the embezzlement of this fifty thousand dollars, with various other sums – of which more hereafter. I charge you with having concealed the existence of this money – of having withheld it from the assets of the estate Besançon – of having appropriated it to your own use!”
“This is a serious charge,” said Justice Claiborne, evidently impressed with its truth, and prepared to entertain it. “Your name, sir, if you please?” continued he, interrogating D’Hauteville, in a mild tone of voice.
It was the first time I had seen D’Hauteville in the full light of day. All that had yet passed between us had taken place either in the darkness of night or by the light of lamps. That morning alone had we been together for a few minutes by daylight; but even then it was under the sombre shadow of the woods – where I could have but a faint view of his features.
Now that he stood in the light of the open window, I had a full, clear view of his face. The resemblance to some one I had seen before again impressed me. It grew stronger as I gazed; and before the magistrate’s interrogatory had received its reply, the shock of my astonishment had passed.
“Your name, sir, if you please?” repeated the justice.
“Eugénie Besançon!”
At the same instant the hat was pulled off – the black curls were drawn aside – and the fair, golden tresses of the beautiful Creole exhibited to the view.
A loud huzza broke out – in which all joined, excepting Gayarre and his two or three ruffian adherents. I felt that I was free.
The conditions had suddenly changed, and the plaintiff had taken the place of the defendant. Even before the excitement had quieted down, I saw the sheriff, at the instigation of Reigart and others, stride forward to Gayarre, and placing his hand upon the shoulder of the latter, arrest him as his prisoner.
“It is false!” cried Gayarre; “a plot – a damnable plot! These documents are forgeries! the signatures are false – false!”
“Not so, Monsieur Gayarre,” said the justice, interrupting him. “Those documents are not forgeries. This is the handwriting of Auguste Besançon. I knew him well. This is his signature – I could myself swear to it.”
“And I!” responded a voice, in a deep solemn tone, which drew the attention of all.
The transformation of Eugène D’Hauteville to Eugénie Besançon had astonished the crowd; but a greater surprise awaited them in the resurrection of the steward Antoine!
Reader! my story is ended. Here upon our little drama must the curtain drop. I might offer you other tableaux to illustrate the after history of our characters, but a slight summary must suffice. Your fancy will supply the details.
It will glad you to know, then, that Eugénie Besançon recovered the whole of her property – which was soon restored to its flourishing condition under the faithful stewardship of Antoine.
Alas! there was that that could never be restored – the young cheerful heart – the buoyant spirit – the virgin love!
But do not imagine that Eugénie Besançon yielded to despair – that she was ever after the victim of that unhappy passion. No – hers was a mighty will; and all its energies were employed to pluck the fatal arrow from her heart.
Time and a virtuous life have much power; but far more effective was that sympathy of the object beloved – that pity for love– which to her was fully accorded.
Her heart’s young hope was crushed – her gay spirit shrouded – but there are other joys in life besides the play of the passions; and, it may be, the path of love is not the true road to happiness. Oh! that I could believe this! Oh! that I could reason myself into the belief, that that calm and unruffled mien – that soft sweet smile were the tokens of a heart at rest. Alas! I cannot. Fate will have its victims. Poor Eugénie! God be merciful to thee! Oh, that I could steep thy heart in the waters of Lethe!
And Reigart? You, reader, will be glad to know that the good doctor prospered – prospered until he was enabled to lay aside his lancet, and become a grandee planter – nay more, a distinguished legislator, – one of those to whom belongs the credit of having modelled the present system of Louisiana law – the most advanced code in the civilised world.
You will be glad to learn that Scipio, with his Chloe and the “leetle Chloe,” were brought back to their old and now happy home – that the snake-charmer still retained his brawny arms, and never afterwards had occasion to seek refuge in his tree-cavern.
You will not be grieved to know, that Gayarre passed several years of his after-life in the palace-prison of Baton Rouge, and then disappeared altogether from the scene. It was said that under a changed name he returned to France, his native country. His conviction was easy. Antoine had long suspected him of a design to plunder their joint ward, and had determined to put him to the proof. The raft of chairs had floated after all; and by the help of these the faithful steward had gained the shore, far down the river. No one knew of his escape; and the idea occurred to this strange old man to remain for a while en perdu– a silent spectator of the conduct of Monsieur Dominique. No sooner did Gayarre believe him gone, than the latter advanced boldly upon his purpose, and hurried events to the described crisis. It was just what Antoine had expected; and acting himself as the accuser, the conviction of the avocat was easy and certain. A sentence of five years to the State Penitentiary wound up Gayarre’s connexion with the characters of our story.
It will scarce grieve you to know that “Bully Bill” experienced a somewhat similar fate – that Ruffin, the man-hunter, was drowned by a sudden rising of the swamp – and that the “nigger-trader” afterwards became a “nigger-stealer;” and for that crime was sentenced at the court of Judge Lynch to the punishment of “tar and feathers.”
The “sportsmen,” Chorley and Hatcher, I never saw again – though their future is not unknown to me. Chorley – the brave and accomplished, but wicked Chorley – was killed in a duel by a Creole of New Orleans, with whom he had quarrelled at play.
