CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE ORDEAL.
When Levin Dennis awoke in the bottom of the old wagon it was beingrapidly driven, and Van Dorn's voice from the driver's seat was heard tosay, without its usual lisp and Spanish interjection:
"Whitecar, is your brother at Dover sure of his game?"
"Cock sure, Cap'n. Got 'em tree'd! Best domestic stock in the town thar,an' the purtiest yaller gals: I know that suits _you_, Cap'n!"
"Have they arms?"
"Not a trigger. We trap 'em at one of their 'festibals.' No, sir,niggers won't scrimmage."
"We assemble at Devil Jim Clark's," said Van Dorn, and passed by with acrack of his whip.
Levin, whom some friendly hand had wrapped in a bearskin coat--he hadseen one like it upon Van Dorn--next heard the slaver speak to anotherparty he had overtaken:
"Melson?"
"Ay yi!"
"Milman?"
"Ah! boy."
"You get your orders at Devil Jim Clark's!"
The stars were out, yet the night was rich in large, fleecy clouds,as if heaven were hurrying onward too. Levin lay on his back, jostledby the rough wagon, but, being perfectly sober now, he was morereasoning and courageous, and his new-found love impelled him toself-preservation. He might have rolled out of the vehicle and into thewoods, and at least saved himself from committing further crime, but howwould he see Hulda any more--Hulda, in danger, perhaps? Thus, even toignorance, love brings understanding, and Levin began to ask himself thecause of his own misery. He knew it was liquor, yet what made him drinkif not a disposition too easily led? Even now he was under almostvoluntary subjection to the bandit in the wagon, whose voice he heardblandly command again to some pair he had caught up to:
"Tindel?"
"Tackle 'em, Cap'n Van! Tackle 'em!"
"You are not to be in peril to-night, so keep your spirits. I expect youto look out for the cords, gags, and fastenings generally!"
"Tackle 'em, Captin; oh, tackle 'em!"
"You and Buck Ransom there--"
"Politely, Captain; politely, sir!" exclaimed an insinuating voice froma negro rider.
"Are to meet us all at Devil Jim's!"
"Tackle 'em, Captin!"
"Politely, Captain!"
As Van Dorn urged his way to the head of the line, Levin looked outsilently upon the flat country of forest and a few poor farms, drainedimperfectly by some ditches of the Choptank. He supposed it might bealmost midnight, from the position of those brilliant constellationswhich shone down equally upon his mother and himself--she in herinnocence and he in his anxiety--and shone, also, perhaps, upon his poorfather's grave in isle or ocean.
Within an hour blood was to be shed, no doubt, and rapine done, and heknew not the road to escape by nor the hole to hide in. Yet in that hourhe had to make his choice,--to fight for liberty, or go to the jail,the whipping-post, or, perhaps, the gallows.
Levin considered ruefully his vagrant past, and how little could be saidin extenuation of him in a court of justice, except by his mother'sfaith, which was no more evidence than a negro's oath.
Once it arose in his mind to surprise Van Dorn, overcome him, cast himout in a ditch, and drive to some one of the little farmhouses and rest,till day should give him his whereabouts and remedy.
Levin was not a coward, and his muscles were hard, and his feet couldcling to a smooth plank like a bird's to a bough; but his heart relentedto the fierce, soft man so unsuspectingly sitting with his back to him,when Levin reflected that he must, perhaps, put an end to Van Dorn'slife with his sailor's knife, if they grappled at all, and this dayexpiring Van Dorn had paid a debt for him to the widow whose son wasnext overtaken, and who cried, forwardly, without being addressed:
"Van Dorn, what you goin' to give me if I git a nigger?"
"This!" said Van Dorn, without a pause, reaching the boy a measured blowwith his whip-lash on the shoulder that made him literally fall from themule and grovel with pain.
"Discipline is what your mother failed to give you, _reprobo_. Manners Ishall teach you. Fall in the rear!"
Owen Daw crawled desperately on his mule and obeyed without parley, buthis audacity soon recovered enough to force his animal up to the wagontail and open whispered communications with Levin there.
Nothing had passed them for hours that Levin had seen, when suddenly ahorseman at a rapid lope stopped the wagon, and a hoarse negro voicemuttered:
"How de do, now? See me! see me!"
"Derrick Molleston?" spoke Van Dorn.
"See me! see me!"
"Get down and ride with me. Levin, are you awake?"
"Yes, Captain."
"Take this man's horse and ride him. John Sorden is ahead. It willstretch your chilled limbs."
"May I go with him?" asked Owen Daw, in his Celtic accent, quitecringing now.
"Not unless he wants you."
"Come, then," Levin obligingly said.
While the two youths were still lingering by the wagon they heard thesewords:
"Have you arranged everything with Whitecar and Devil Jim?"
"See me! see me!"--apparently meaning, "Rely upon me."
"Is Greenley ready to make the diversion if any attack be made upon us?"
"See me! see me! His gallus is up and he'd burn de world."
"This Lawyer Clayton?"
"See me! see me! He gives a big party, Aunt Braner tole me. A judge isdar from Prencess Anne, an' liquor a-plenty. See me! see me!"
"The white people absolutely gone from Cowgill House?"
"See me! It's nigh half a mile outen de town. Dar's forty tousanddollars, if dar's a cent, at dat festibal: gals more'n half white, mendat can read an' preach: de cream of Kent County. See me! see me!"
"And not a suspicion of our coming?"
"See me! O see me!" hoarsely said the negro; "innercent as de unborn.To-night's deir las' night!"
Levin trembled as these merciless words reached his ears, but Owen Dawseemed to forget his affront at the tidings, and chuckled to Levin asthey trotted away:
"Bet you I git a better nigger nor you!"
"Oh, shame, Owen Daw! Your mother was saved to-day from bein' turned outof doors by my pity. Think of robbin' these niggers of their freedom!What have they done?"
"Been niggers!" exclaimed Owen Daw. "That's enough!"
"What will you do, Owen, to help your poor mother?"
"Wait till I git big enough, bedad, an' kill ole Jake Cannon for thisday's work."
As they rode on they came to the man called Sorden, riding as the guideto the invading column, a person of more genteel address than anybeneath Van Dorn, and young, pliable, and frolicking.
"My skin!" he said. "Now, boys, Van Dorn oughtn't had to brung you.You're too sniptious for this rough work. I love the Captain better thanI ever loved A male, but he oughtn't to spile boys."
"Van Dorn told me to come," Owen Daw cried. "I'm big enough to buck anigger."
"I love him better than I ever loved A male," said Sorden,apologetically. "Who is t'other young offender?"
"I'm a stranger to your parts," Levin replied. "Mrs. Cannon made mecome. I didn't want to."
"Are you afear'd?"
"Yes," Levin said.
"Well, I love the Captain better than I ever loved A male. But boys isboys, and I hate to see 'em spiled. If you was nigger boys I wouldn'tkeer a cent; but white's my color, and I don't want to trade in it."
They halted at a small, sharp-gabled brick house, of one story and akitchen and garret, at the left of the road, to which the corner of apiece of oak and hickory woods came up shelteringly, while in the rearseveral small barns and cribs enclosed the triangle of a field. A doorin the middle, towards Maryland, seemed very high-silled, and lowgrated windows were at the cellar on each side of the steps.
The place had a suspicious appearance, and a pack of hounds in full cryrushed from the kitchen, and, while in the act of leaping the stile andpalings, were arrested almost in mid air by a chuffy voice crying fromwithin:<
br />
"Hya! Down! Spitch!"
The whole pack meekly sneaked back to the house, whining low, and a fewblows of a switch and short howls within completed the excitement.
"What place is this?" asked Owen Daw.
"Devil Jim Clark's," said Sorden.
The dwelling stood about forty yards back from the road, drawing nearlyinto the cover of the woods, and its little yard was made cavernous bythick-planted paper-mulberry and maple trees, while a line ofcherry-trees and an old pole-well rose along the road and hedge. As theyrode to the rear of the house a little dormer window, like a snail,crawled low along the roof, and a light was shining from it.
"Devil Jim's business-office," nodded Sorden.
"What's his business?" asked Levin, freshly.
"Niggers. He keeps 'em up thar between the garret and theroof--sometimes in the cellar."
"Does he want a business-office for that?"
"He's a contractor on the canawl, too, Jim is--raises race-horses, farmsit, gambles a little, but nigger-runnin' is his best game. My skin! Yercomes Captain Van Dorn. I love him as I never loved A male."
"Van Dorn," spoke a voice from the house, "remember my family isparticular. Your men must go to the barn. Come in!"
"Spiced brandy at the barn!"--a quiet remark from somewhere--wassufficient to lead the herd away, and, giving the order to "water andfodder," Van Dorn passed into the kitchen, thence through a bedroom tothe chief room of the house, and up a small winding-stair to a scrap ofhallway or corridor hardly two feet wide.
The man who led pointed to a trap above one end of this hall, andexclaimed, "Niggers there! family yonder!"--the last reference to a doorclosing the little passage.
He then opened a wicket at the side of the hall, admitting Van Dorn toan exceedingly small closet or garret room, barely large enough for themen to sit, and lighted by a lamp in the little dormer window seen frombelow.
"Drink!" said the man, uncorking a bottle of champagne; "I had it readyfor you."
He poured the foaming wine and set the bottle on a sort of secretary ordesk, and then looked anxiety and avarice together out of his liquidblack eyes and broad, heavy face.
"_Buena suerte, senor!_" Van Dorn lisped, as they drank together.
"Hya! spitch!" nervously muttered Clark, cutting his own top-boots witha dog-whip. "I wish I was out of the business: the risk is too great. Mywife is religious--praying, mebbe, now, in there. My daughters is at theseminaries, spendin' money like the Canawl Company on the lawyers.Nothin' pays like nigger-stealin', but it's beneath you and me, VanDorn."
"_A la verdad!_ This is my last incursion, Don Clark. Pleasure has keptme poor for life. To-day I did a little sacrifice, and it grows uponme."
"If they should ketch me and set me in the pillory, Van Dorn, for whatyou do to-night, hya! spitch!"--he slashed his knees--"it would breakMrs. Clark's heart."
"I want this money to-night," said Van Dorn, "to make two young peoplehappy. They shall take my portion, and take me with them out of theplains of Puckem."
"Oh, it is nervous business"--Clark's eyes of rich jelly made the palloron his large face like a winding-sheet--"hya! spitch! The Quakers area-watchin' me. Ole Zekiel Jinkins over yer, ole Warner Mifflin down tothe mill, these durned Hunns at the Wildcat--they look me through everytime they ketch me on the road. But the canawl contract don't pay likeniggers; my folks must hold their heads up in the world; Sam Ogg won'tlet me keep out of temptation."
"Do you fear me, Devil Jim?"
"Hya! spitch! No. If all in the trade was like you, I could sleep intrust. If you go out of it, so will I."
"Then to-night, _penitente!_ we make our few thousand and quit. Give upyour cards and I my _doncellitas_, and we can at least live."
They shook hands and drank another glass, and then Van Dorn said:
"Send up to me, _hermano!_ the lad who will reply to the name of Levin.With him I would speak while you give the directions! Poor coward!" VanDorn said, after his host had descended the stairs, "he can never beless than a thief with that irksomeness under such fair competence."
At that moment a beautiful maid or woman, in her white night-robe, stoodin the little doorway, with eyes so like the richness of his just gonethat it must have been his daughter. She fled as she recognized astranger, and Van Dorn pursued till a door was closed in his face.
"Poor fool!" he said, sinking into his chair again; "I will never bemore honest than any woman can make me!"
As Levin entered the little hallway Van Dorn smiled:
"Here is a glass of real wine to inspire you, _junco_."
"No, Captain. I would rather die than drink it."
"Do you repent coming with me?"
"Oh, bitterly, Captain. I don't want to steal poor, helpless people ifthey is black."
"Now, listen, lad!"--Van Dorn's face ceased to blush and the coarselook came into his blue eyes--"this night's excursion is for yourprofit. I like your gentle inclination for me, and the good acts youhave solicited from me, and the confidence you have shown me as to yourlove for pretty Hulda. Join me in this work willingly, and I will giveher, for your marriage settlement, all my share."
"Never," Levin exclaimed.
Van Dorn drew his knife and rose to his feet.
"Levin," he lisped, "I promised Patty Cannon that I would bring you backspotted with crime or dead. Now choose which it shall be."
"To die, then," cried Levin, with one hand drawing the long, silken hairfrom his eyes and with the other drawing his own knife; "but I willfight for my life."
Van Dorn seized Levin's wrist in a vise-like grip, but, as he did so,threw his own knife upon the floor.
"Oh! _huerfano_, waif," Van Dorn murmured, while his blush returned,"take heed thou ever sayest 'No' with courage like that, when cowardiceor weak acquiescence would extort thy 'Yes.' This moment, if thou hadstconsented, thy heart would be on my knife, young Levin!"
He drew the knife from Levin's hand and put it in his ragged coat again,and set the boy on his knee as if he had been a little child.
"Oh, God be thanked I did not kill you, sir," sobbed Levin, his tearsquickly following his courage; "twice I have thought of doin' itto-day."
"I never would have put you to that test, my poor lad, but that I sawyour conscience at work all this day under the stimulation of virtuouslove. Think nothing of me. Build your own character upon some goodexample, and, sweet as life is, fight for it on the very frontiers ofyour character. _Die_ young, but surrender only when you are old."
"Captain," Levin said, "how kin I git character? My father is dead.Everybody twists me around his fingers."
"Then think of some plain, strong, faithful man you may know and referevery act of your character to him. Ask yourself what he would do inyour predicament, then go and do the same."
"I do know such a man," Levin said, in another moment; "It is JimmyPhoebus, my poor, beautiful mother's beau."
"_El rayo ha caido!_" Van Dorn spoke, low and calm; "yes, Levin, any manworthy of your mother will do."
"Captain, turn back with me! Is it too late?"
"Too late these many years, young _senor_. I shall lead the war onAfrica to-night again at Cowgill House."
He rose and finished the wine.
"Clark shall give you a horse, Levin. I present it to you. Ride on withSorden at the lead, and a mile from here, at Camden town, take your ownway. Good-night!"
Taking a single look at the miserable band of whites and blackscollected in the barn, and revealed by a lantern's light in theexcitement of drink and avarice, or the familiarity of fear andvice--some inspecting gags of corn-cob and bucks of hickory, otherstrimming clubs of blackjack with the roots attached; others loadingtheir horse-pistols and greasing the dagger-slides thereon; somewhetting their hog-killing knives upon harness, others cutting rope andcord into the lengths to bind men's feet--Levin was set on the lopinghorse he had been already riding, by Clark, the host, and soon metSorden on the road.
"Where is Van Dorn?" Sorden ask
ed; "I love him as I never loved A male."
"He sends me to Camden of an errand," Levin answered; "is it far?"
"About a mile. Three miles, then, to Dover. My skin! how fresh yourcritter is; ain't it Dirck Molleston's? I thought so. Then he'll bewantin' to turn in at Cooper's Corners."
"Does Derrick live there?"
"Yes. That's whar he holds the Forks of both roads from below, andwatches the law in Dover. I hope Van Dorn will git away with the lootand not git ketched, fur I love him as I never loved A male."
Levin's horse, at his easy gait, soon left Sorden far behind, and thestrange events of the night, and his wonder what to do next, keptLevin's brain whirling till he saw the form of a few houses rise amongthe trees, and a line of arborage indicate a main road from north tosouth. The scent as of cold, wide waters and marshes filled the night.
"Here is Camden," Levin thought; "where shall I go? If I turn south Ishall get no bed nor food all night, and be picked up in the mornin' fura kidnapper. I can't go back. The big river or the ocean, I reckon, isbefore me. What would Jimmy Phoebus do?"
He held the animal in as he asked this question, and paused at thecrossing of the great State road.
The idea slowly spread upon his whole existence that James Phoebuswould, in Levin's place, ride instantly to Dover and give the alarm.
Levin tried to construct Phoebus in a mood to give some other advice,but, as the resolute pungy captain's form seemed to bestride the youngman's mind, it rose more and more stalwart, and appeared to lead towardsDover, where so many poor souls, in the joys of intercourse and freedom,were like little birds unconscious of the hawks above them, and no manin the world but Levin Dennis could save them from death or bondage.
Would James Phoebus, with his lion nature, ever hesitate in the dutyof a citizen and a Christian under such circumstances, or forgiveanother man for withholding information that might be life and libertyand mercy?
Yet there was Van Dorn to be betrayed. What would Van Dorn do in Levin'splace?
The words of Van Dorn, not a quarter of an hour old, spoke aloud inLevin's echoing consciousness: "Think nothing of me. Refer every act tosome faithful man and go and do the same!"
Levin looked up, and the very clouds, now swollen dark in spite ofstarshine, seemed hurrying on Dover. The night-birds were crying "Mercy!mercy!" the lizards and tree-frogs seemed to cross each other's voices,piping "Time! time! time!"
"_Huldy!_" Levin whispered, and let the reins fall loose, and his animaldarted through Camden town to the north.
He had gone by the small frame houses, the Quaker meeting, the stores,the outskirt residences, when suddenly his horse turned out to pass alarge, dark object in the road ahead, and a horseman rode right acrossLevin's course, forcing his animal back on its haunches.
"High doings, friend!" a man's voice raspingly spoke; "I'm concerned forthee!"
"Git out of my way or I'll stab you!" Levin cried, between his new ardorto do his duty and the idea that he had already been intercepted byPatty Cannon's band.
"Ha, friend! I'm less concerned for myself than thee. Thou wilt not staba citizen of Camden town at his own door?"
"For Heaven's sake, let me go, then!" Levin pleaded. "The kidnappers iscoming to Dover in a few minutes. I want to tell Lawyer Clayton!"
Immediately the other person, a tall, lean man, wheeled and dashed afterthe dark object ahead, which Levin, following also hard, found to be alarge covered wagon--something between the dearborn or farmer's and thefamily carriage.
"Bill," the Quaker called to the driver, "spare not thy whip till Doverbe well past. Here is one who says kidnappers are raiding even thecapital of Delaware. I'm concerned for thee!"
The driver began to whip his horses into a gallop, and cries, as ofseveral persons, came out of the close-curtained vehicle.
"What's in there?" Levin asked the Quaker, who had rejoined him;"niggers?"
"No, friend," the Quaker crisply answered, "only Christians."
They crossed a mill-stream, and soon afterwards a smaller run, withoutspeaking, and came to a little log-and-frame cabin in a fork of theroad, where Levin's horse tried to run in.
"Ha, friend! Is it not Derrick Molleston's loper thee has--the same thathe gets from Devil Jim Clark? What art thou, then? I feel concerned forthee."
"A Christian, too, I hope," answered Levin, forcing his nag up the road.
"Then thee is better than a youth in this dwelling we next pass," theQuaker said, pointing to a brick house on the left; "for there lived ajudge whose son bucked a poor negro fiddler in his father's cellar, anddelivered him to Derrick Molleston to be sold in slavery. I hear thepoor man tells it in his distant house of bondage."
"What's this?" Levin inquired, seeing a strange structure of beams on acape or swell to the right, in sight of the dark forms of a town on thenext crest beyond.
"A gallows," said the Quaker, "on which a horse-thief will be hangedto-morrow. To steal a horse is death; to steal a fellow-man is nothing."
As he spoke, the mysterious carriage turned down a cross street of Doverand stole into the obscurity of the town.
"Ha! ha!" exclaimed the Quaker; "if Joe Johnson had not stopped to feedat Devil Jim's, he might have overtaken my brother's wagon full ofescaping slaves. I tell thee, friend, because I'm scarce concerned forthee now."