EMORY UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY
HATCHIE,
THE GUARDIAN SLAVE;
OB,
THE HEIRESS OF BELLEVUE.
% €mk nf tjiB unit tjjt fotiffi-ttiat
BY WARREN T. ASHTON.
"Here is a man, setting his fate aside,
Of comely virtues.''
Shakspeare.
" Is this the daughter of a slave ?"
Knowi.es.
BOSTON:
B.*B. MUSSEY AND COMPANY,
A NB
R. B. FITTS AND COMPANY.
18 5 3.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by
R. B. FITTS,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of Massachusetts.
Stereotyped by
HOBART & BOBBINS,
BOSTON.
INTRODUCTION.
In the summer of 1848 the author of the following tale
was a passenger on board a steamboat from New Orleans to
Cincinnati. During the passage — one of the most pro¬
longed and uncomfortable in the .annals of western river
navigation—the plot of this story was' arranged. Many of
its incidents, and all its descriptions of steamboat life, will
be recognized by the voyager of the Mississippi.
The tale was written before the appearance of "Uncle
Tom's Cabin," — before negro literature had become a
mania in the community. It was not designed to illustrate
the evils or the blessings of slavery. It is, as its title-page
imports, a tale ; and the author has not stepped out of his
path to moralize upon Southern institutions, or any other
extraneous topic. But, as its locale is the South, and its
principal character a slave, the story incidentally portrays
some features of slavery.
With these explanations, the author submits the tale to
the public, hoping the reader will derive some portion of the
pleasure from its perusal which he experienced in its prep¬
aration.
Boston, November 18, 1852.
hatchie:
THE GUARDIAN SLAVE.
CHAPTER I.
" Antony. You grow presumptuous.
Ventidius. I take the privilege of plain love to speak.
Antony. Plain love ! — Plain arrogance ! plain insolence ! "
Dryden.
On the second floor of a lofty building in street,
New Orleans, was situated the office of Anthony Maxwell,
Esq,, Attorney and Counsellor at Law, Commissioner for
Georgia, Alabama, and a dozen other states. His office had
not the usual dusty, business-like aspect of such places, but
presented more the appearance of a gentleman's drawing-
room ; and, but for the ponderous cases of books bound in
law-sheep, and a table covered with tin boxes and bundles <jf
papers secured with red tape, the visitor would easily have
mistaken it for such. The space on the walls not occupied
by book-cases was hung with rich paintings, whose artistic
beauty and elevated themes betokened a refined taste. The
floor of the room was covered by a magnificent tapestry car¬
pet. The chairs, lounges and tables, were of the most costly
and elegant description. The windows were hung with
graceful and brilliant draperies. Every arrangement of the
office betokened luxury and indolence, rather than the severe
toil and privation to which the aspirant for legal honors must
so often submit. The costly appurtenances of the apartment
seemed to indicate that the young lawyer's path to fame was
over a velvet lawn, bedecked with beautiful flowers, rather
8
HATCIIIE: A TALE OX1 THE
than the rough "road, steep and crooked, over which the
greatest statesmen and most eminent jurists have trodden.
The occupant of this chamber was Stretched at full length
upon one of the luxurious lounges, puffing, with an abstracted
air, a fragrant regalia. He was a young man, not more than
five-and-twenty years of age, and what ladies of taste would
have styled decidedly handsome. His face was pale, with a
certain haggard appearance, which indicates the earlier stages
of dissipation. His complexion was of a delicate white,
unbrowned by the southern sun, and the skin was so transpa¬
rent that the roots of his black beard were visible beneath its
surface. His jet-black hair hung in rich, wavy curls, which
seemed to be the especial care of some renowned tonsorial
artist, so gracefully and accurately were they arranged.
Ilis black eye was sharp and expressive when his mind was
excited in manly thought; but now it was a little unsteady,
— disposed to droop, and wander, as though ashamed to
express the emotions which agitated his soul. Altogether,
his features were classic; but there was something about
them which the moralist would not like — a sort of lascivious
softness mingling with the nobler intellectual expression, that
warned him to beware of the Siren, while he admired the
Apollo.
The marks of vice were visible in his countenance. They
had not yet become canker-spots on the surface, but they
rankled and festered beneath that fair field of physical and
intellectual grandeur.
The young attorney was dressed in the extreme of fashion,
yet in good taste. Though he wore all the fashion demand¬
ed. he did not court ridicule by overstepping its flickering
lines. He was not the over-dressed dandy, but the full-
dressed gentleman of refined taste, in his external appear¬
ance.
Anthony Maxwell had been educated at a northern institu¬
tion. A year before his introduction to the reader, he had
entered his father's office in the capacity of a partner, where,
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTII-TVEST.
9
by an assumed devotion to business, he had effectually
deceived his father and his clients into the belief that he was
a steady, industrious young man. His talents were of a very
respectable order, which, superadded to a native eloquence
and an engaging demeanor, had enabled him to acquit him¬
self with much credit in the cases intrusted to his manage¬
ment. A few months after his professional debut, his father's
decease had placed him in possession of a very lucrative
practice and a moderate fortune, thus enabling him in some
degree to follow the bent of his own inclinations. To those
whose habits and desires were similar to his own, he was not
long in unfolding his true character, though not to a sufficient
extent to destroy at once his professional prospects. The
irresponsible life of the man of leisure had more charms to
him than an honorable distinction in his profession. To labor
in any form he had an intolerable repugnance. His fortune
was not sufficient to allow an entire neglect of business ;
therefore he determined to practise law in an easy manner,
until a rich wife, or the " tricks" of his craft, would permit
an entire devotion to the pleasures of affluence. '
In accordance with this idea, his first step, after the death
of his father, had been to locate himself in the magnificent
apartments we have described. He gave up the house in
which his father had dwelt, and, fitting up a sleeping-room in
the rear of the office with oriental splendor, his life and
habits were free from the scrutinizing gaze of friend and foe,
and he found himself situated as nearly to his mind as his
income would permit. These indications of a dissolute life
were viewed with distrust by the more respectable of his
clients. His subsequent actions were not calculated to in¬
crease their confidence ; yet, for the respect they bore to the
father's memory, they were slow in casting off the son.
Mr. Maxwell smoked his cigar, and occasionally uttered an
impatient exclamation, as though some scheme he was turn¬
ing in his mind refused to accommodate itself to his means.
He was evidently engaged in the consideration of some com-
10
HATCHIE: A TALE OP THE
•plicated affair ; and the more he thought, the more impatient
he grew. He finished his cigar, and lit another; still the
knotty point was not conquered. His haggard countenance
at one moment was lighted up, as though success had dawned
upon his mental contest; but at the next moment it darkened
into disappointment, which he vented in an audible oath.
While thus laboring in his perplexity, the door communi¬
cating with the ante-chamber was opened, and the boy in
attendance very formally announced " Miss Dumont."
This announcement seemed to dissipate the vexatious
clouds which had environed the attorney, and a light and
cheerful smile came, as if by magic, upon his care-worn
features, as he apologized to the lady for the smoky atmos¬
phere of the room.
" I trust your honored father is well," said he, after dis¬
posing of the usual commonplace introductions of conver¬
sation.
" I regret to say that his failing health is the occasion of
this visit," replied the lady, in a cold and even serious tone.
" I have called to request your immediate attendance at Bel-
levue. My father has some business matters upon which he
requires your professional advice."
"Col. Dumont, I trust, is not seriously ill," returned
Maxwell, with an appearance of sympathy.
"He is confined to his.room, but not entirely to his bed.
When shall I say you will come? " said the lady.
" I will be there within an hour after your own arrival, if
you go direct."
" Yery well, sirand she turned to depart.
This intention on the part of the lady did not seem to meet
the approbation of the attorney.
" Stay a moment, Miss Dumont," said Jfre, in an embar¬
rassed manner; " pray, honor me with a moment's conver¬
sation."
"Nay, sir. I know too well your object in this request,
and cannot accede to it," replied the lady, in a firm and
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
11
dignified manner, while a rich crimson shade suffused her
beautiful countenance.
" Be not so unkind, —a moment is all I ask," said Max¬
well, with pleading earnestness.
" No, sir; not a moment. Your unopened letter, which I
yesterday returned, should be enough to convince you that
my mind, is not changed," replied she, moving to the door.
The lawyer was vexed. The letter alluded to by the lady
he had received, and it had troubled him exceedingly. He
had a great purpose in view, — a purpose which, accom¬
plished, would enable him to realize the cherished object of
his life, — would enable him to revel in the ease and affluence
he so much coveted. Something must be done. Here was
an opportunity afforded by the providential visit of Miss
Dumont which might never occur again, and he resolved to
improve it. Determined to detain her, he adopted the first
expedient which presented itself.
"Pardon me," said he, "I have not received the letter,
and was not aware that you intended to return it."
" Indeed! " replied the lady, with evident astonishment, as
she relinquished her hold of the door-handle, and returned to
the table by the side of which the attorney stood.
" I regret that I did not, as it would have saved you from
further annoyance, and me from a few of the hours of anguish
with which I have awaited your reply," returned the lawyer,
in accents of humility, which were too well feigned to permit
the lady to suspect them. " The bitterness of a blighted
hope were better than the agony of suspense."
A smile of pity and contempt rested upon the fair face of
the lady, as she turned her glance from him to the papers on
the table. There lay Maxwell's letter, with the envelope in
which she had returned it! She only pointed to it, and
looked into his face to read the shame and confusion her dis¬
covery must create.
Maxwell's pallid cheek reddened, as he perceived that his
12
hatchie: a tale of the
deceit was exposed; but he instantly recovered his self-pos¬
session, and said,
"Pardon this little subterfuge. I permitted myself to
descend to it, that I might gain a moment's time to plead
with you for the heart which is wasting away beneath your
coldness. You do not, you cannot, know the misery I have
endured in possessing the love upon which you so cruelly
frown."
The passionate eloquence of Maxwell might have melted
a heart less firm than that of Emily Dumont. As it was,
the cold expression of contempt left her features, and, if not
disposed to listen with favor to his suit, she was softened into
pity for his assumed misery. Under any other circumstances,
the lie he had a moment before uttered would have forever
condemned him in her sight. But her charitable disposition
compelled her to believe that it was the last resort of a mind
on the verge of despair.
" Mr. Maxwell," said she, " I am deeply grieved that you
should have suffered any unhappiness on my account.''
"I will bless you for even those words," returned Max¬
well, hastily, feeling that he had gained the first point.
"But I do not intend to encourage your suit," promptly
returned the lady.
" Be not again unkind ! Veil not that heavenly sympathy
in the coldness of indifference again! "
" I wish not to be harsh, or unkind. You have before
given me an index of your sentiments, and I have endeav¬
ored, by all courteous means, to discountenance them."
" Yet I have always found something upon which to base a
flickering hope."
" If you have, I regret it all the more."
"Do not say so! Changed as has been your demeanor
towards me, I have dared to fan the flame in my heart, till
now it is a raging fire, and beyond my control."
" I cannot give my hand where my heart is uninterested,"
replied the lady, feelingly. " I love you not I am candid,
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
13
and plain, and I trust this unequivocal declaration will for¬
ever terminate any hope you have cherished in relation to
this matter. Painful as I now feel it must be for you to
hear, and painful as it is to me, on that account, to declare
it, I repeat — I can never reciprocate the affection you pro¬
fess. And now let this interview terminate. It is too
painful to be prolonged;" — and she again moved towards
the door.
" Do not leave me to despair!" pleaded Maxwell, earnestly,
as he followed her toward the door. " At least, bid me wait,
bid me prove myself worthy, — anything, but do not forever
extinguish the little star I have permitted to blaze in the
firmament 6f my heart — the star I have dared to worship.
Do not veil me in utter darkness !"
" I can offer no hope — not the slightest, even to rid myself
of an annoyance," replied Miss Dumont, with the return of
Bome portion of her former dignity ; for the perseverance of
the attorney perplexed and troubled her exceedingly.
" You know not to what a fate you doom me," said Max¬
well, heedless of the lady's rebuke.
"There is no remedy;" and Miss Dumont grasped the
door-knob.
"There is a remedy. Bid me wait a month, a year, any
time, till you examine more closely your own heart. Give
me any respite from hopeless misery."
" You have my answer ; and now I trust to your honor as
a gentleman to save me from further annoyance," said Miss
Dumont, with spirit, for her patience was fast ebbing out.
" I will not annoy you," replied Maxwell, with emphasis,
as he assumed an air of more self-possession. '11 have been
pleading for exemption from the direst of human miseries.
But I will not annoy you, even to save myself from endless
woe." '
" Forget this misplaced affection; for be assured my senti¬
ments will continue unchanged."
" I can never forget it; but I will strive to endure it with
2
hatchie: a tale of the
resignation. «»
-dus hope that yon will, yet tlie hoI,e ma8t be a Ta!ll
" Destroy not youi own peace , i. j v. r .1
one. Good-afternoon;" and the lady departed before the
attorney had time to add another hyperbolical profession of
a passion which, however well acted, was not half so deeply
grounded as he had led the unsuspecting object of it to
believe. That he really loved her was to some extent true.
That his love was earnest and pure, such as the blight of
coldness and inconstancy would render painful, was not true,
— far from it. He had sought her hand, not to lay at her
feet the offering of a hallowed affection, but'to realize the
object we have before mentioned,—to enable him, by the
possession of her vast wealth, to live a life of ease and
pleasure.
He had commenced his attack upon her affections with some
prospect of success. To the occasional professional visit he
paid her father he had added frequent social calls, in which he
had used all his eloquence to enlist the sympathies of the
fair daughter. She had regarded him as an agreeable vis¬
itor; and, indeed, his natural abilities, the unceasing wit
and liveliness of his conversation, had well earned him this
distinction. Flattering himself that he should be able to win
her affections, he had gradually emerged from the indifference
of the mere formalist to the incipient attentions of the
devoted lover. These overtures were not well received, and, if
she had before treated him with the favor which the agreeable
visitor always receives, she now extended to him only the
stately courtesy of entire indifference. The visible change in
the cordiality of her receptions had opened his eyes, and
diIpLftlnhLn8attorh°f hIS Un?r°mising P°sition- Bu? his
allow him to despa yant' character too energetic, to
itself, in the person' of °^stac^e to ^is suit had presented
ambitious wishes ar,neatPT+1'v P°K whom the obJecfc of llis
to bestow unusual favor. This
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
15
individual was a young officer in the army, a sort of protege
of the lady's father, who had been spending a furlough at
Bellevue. In the matter of fortune Maxwell's rival was not
to be dreaded, for he knew the lady was not mercenary in
her views. The young captain was penniless ; but his family
was good, and he had the advantage of being a favorite with
the father. He had won for himself a name on the fields of
Mexico, which went far to enlist a lady's favor. He was a uni¬
versal favorite both with the public and in the private circle.
Maxwell considered this young officer a formidable rival,
and he resolved to retrieve himself at once. Upon his per¬
sonal attractions he relied to overcome the lady's disfavor;
and, notwithstanding the unequivocal intention of discoun¬
tenancing his suit she had manifested, he resolved to open his
campaign by addressing her, eloquently and tenderly, through
the medium of a letter. He felt that he could in this man¬
ner gain her attention to his suit, — a point which his vanity
assured him was equivalent to a victory. But his philosophy
and his vanity were both sorely tried by the return of the
letter unopened. His point was lost, and he was harassing
his fertile brain with vain attempts to suggest any scheme
short of honest, straight-forward wooing, — which the cir¬
cumstances seemed to interdict, — when the visit of the lady
herself rendered further efforts useless.
His position, resting, as it did, on the purpose of marrying
the heiress, — a purpose too deeply incorporated with his
future prospects to be resigned, — was now a desperate one.
Through the long vista of struggles and difficulties he saw
his end, and the fact that he had to some extent compro¬
mised his heart stimulated him still more to meet and over¬
come the barriers that environed him.
For an hour after the lady's departure the young lawyer
pondered the obstacles which beset him. With the aspect
of an angry rather than a disappointed man, he paced the
office with rapid and irregular strides. He could devise no
expedient. A lady's will is absolute, and he must bend in
16
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
submission. He blamed his own tardiness one moment, and
his precipitancy the next; then he cursed his ill luck, and
vented his anger and disappointment in a volley of oaths.
His meditations were again interrupted, by his attendant's
announcement of " Mr. Dumont."
" Ah, good-morning, sir ! I was just on the point of going
to Bellevue. Nothing serious has happened, I trust," said
Maxwell, laying aside, with no apparent effort, his troubled
visage, and assuming his usual bland demeanor.
" Nothing," replied the visitor, gruffly.
" Your niece left the office an hour since," continued
Maxwell. " She requested me immediately to visit your
brother."
" Which you have not done," returned the visitor, whom
we will style Jaspar, to distinguish him from his brother,
Colonel Dumont.
" But which I intend to do at once, a little matter having
detained me longer than I supposed it would."
" I will save you the trouble. The business upon which
my brother wished to see you was concerning his will."
"Indeed, sir! I hope he is not dangerously ill," said
Maxwell, in apparent alarm.
" Not at all. The doctor says he will be out in a week ;
but he thinks otherwise, and is now engaged in putting his
house in order," replied Jaspar, with a sickly smile.
" I am glad he is no worse, though it is better at all times
to be prepared for the final event."
" Pprhaps it is," said Jaspar, coldly. "Here is a rough
draught of the will, which he wishes reduced to the usual
form with all possible haste. Will it take you long?"
" An hour or two."
" I will wait, then, as he requested me to bring you with
me on my return."
"It shall be done with all possible haste. There are
cigars, and the morning papers. Pray make yourself com¬
fortable."
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
17
Jaspar seated himself, and lit a cigar, without acknowl¬
edging his host's courtesy, while Maxwell applied himself
to the task before him. The first part of the will was speed¬
ily written; but those parts which alluded to the testator's
daughter, foreshadowing the opulence that awaited her, he
could not so easily pass over. They were so strdhgly sug¬
gestive of the fortunate lot of him who should wed her, that
he could scarcely proceed with the work. An hour before,
she had veiled his prospects in darkness; now he was pre¬
paring a will which would, at no distant day, place her in
possession of a princely fortune. His mind was so firmly
fixed upon the attainment of this treasure that it refused to
bend itself to the task before him.
Jaspar had finished his cigar, and began to be a little
impatient. Thrice he rose from his chair, and looked over
the lawyer's shoulder.
" This is an important paper," said Maxwell, noticing
Jaspar's impatience, " and must be executed with great care."
" So it is; but the colonel may die before you get it done,"
observed Jaspar, coarsely, and with a crafty smile, which
was not unnoticed by the attorney.
" 0, no! I hope not," replied Maxwell, exhibiting the
prototype of Jaspar's smile.
A smile ! What is it 1 "What volumes are conveyed in a
single smile ! It is the magnetic telegraph by which sympa
thetic hearts convey their untold and unmentionable purposes.
To the anxious lover it is the bearer of the first tidings of
joy. Long before the heart dare resort to coarse, material
words, the smile carries the messages of affection. To the
villain it reveals the sympathetic purposes of his according
fiend. What the lead and line are to the pilot, the smile, the
cunning, dissembling smile, is to the base mind. By means
of it he feels his way into the heart and soul of his supposed
prototype.
Maxwell knew enough of human character to read correctly
the meaning of Jaspar's crafty smile. The attorney had long
2*
18
nATCIIIE: A TALE OP THE
known that he was cold and unfeeling, a bear in his deport¬
ment, and sadly lacking in common integrity; but that he was
capable of bold and daring villany he had had no occasion
to suspect. As he turned to the document again, the base
character of the uncle came up for consideration in connection
with his suit to the niece. Might not this circumstance open
the way to the attainment of his grand purpose 1
But, while he considers, let us turn our attention to the
development of the history and circumstances of the Dumont
family.
r
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
19
CHAPTER II.
" Lorenzo. You loved, and lie did love 1
Mariana. To say he did
Were to affirm what oft his eyes avouched,
What many an action testified — and yet,
What wanted confirmation of his tongue."
Knowles.
On the right bank of the Mississippi river, a few miles
above New Orleans, was situated the plantation of Colonel
Dumont, which he had chosen to designate by the expressive
appellation of " Bellevuethough, it would seem, from the
level nature of the country, it could not have been chosen
on account of any fitness in the term.
In territorial extent, in the number of slaves employed, and
in the quantity of sugar annually produced, the plantation of
Colonel Dumont was one of the most important on the river.
This fact, added to the possession of immense estates in the
city, rendered its owner a man of no small consequence in
the vicinity. But, more than this, Colonel Dumont was
beloved and respected for his many good qualities of mind
and heart. In the late war with England he had served in
the army, and as an officer had won an enviable distinction
by his courage and his talents. Coming unexpectedly into
the possession of this estate by the death of an uncle, he
retired, at the close of the war, from a profession to which a
genuine patriotism alone had invited him, and devoted him¬
self entirely to the improvement of his lands.
Colonel Dumont had been married; but, after a single year
of happiness in the conjugal state, his wife died, leaving him
an only daughter in remembrance of her. This child, at the
20
hatchie: a tale of the
opening of the tale, was within a few years of maturity, —
the image of her father's only love, — not less fair, not less
pure and good.
Emily Dumont was a beautiful girl, fair as the lily, gentle
as the dove. She was of a medium height, and of slender
and graceful form. Her step was light and elastic, and, if
there was any poetry in her light, elegant form, there was
more in her easy, fairy-like motion. Her features were as
daintily moulded as her form. Her eye was light blue, soft,
and beautifully expressive of a pure heart. She was a little
paler than the connoisseur in female loveliness would demand
in his ideal, and her expression was a little inclined to sad¬
ness; but it was a sadness — or rather a sweet dignity—
more winning than repulsive to the gazer. t
Emily Dumont, highly as fortune had favored her in the
bestowal of worldly goods and personal beauty, was still
more blessed in the gifts of an expansive mind and a gentle
heart; and mind and heart had both been faithfully culti¬
vated by the assiduous care of her devoted father. She was a
true woman, — not a mere plaything to while away a dandy's
idle hours, not a piece of tinsel to adorn the parlor of a
nabob, but a true woman, —one fitted by nature and educa¬
tion to adorn all the varied scenes of life. Although brought
up in unclouded prosperity, amid luxury, and affluence, she
was still prepared for the day of adversity, if it should ever
come.
As the heiress of immense wealth, her hand was eagerly
sought in the aristocratic circle around her; but thus far she
had resisted all these attacks upon her heart, and upon her
prospective riches. In the crowd of suitors who gathered
around her was Anthony Maxwell. In the item of wealth
his fortune was comparatively small; and in that of a noble
character, smaller still. Emily could have forgiven him the
want of the former, but the latter was imperatively demand¬
ed. At the young lawyer's return from the North, and on
his first appearance at the bar, Emily had regarded him with
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
21
more than ordinary attention. But, after the death of his
father, the reports which reached her ears of his dissolute
habits and inclinations caused her to regard him with dis¬
trust. His wit, accomplishments and native suavity, had
procured him admission into the circle of her more favored
friends. But the report of his vices had as promptly pro¬
duced his expulsion.
The return of the army from Mexico brought with it the
young officer whom we have before mentioned. The father
of this young man had been a companion-in-arms of Colonel
Dumont, and a strong friendship had grown up between the
veterans. The tie was severed only by the death of the
former, after a life of mercantile misfortunes, and finally of
utter ruin. At the period of the father's insolvency and
death, Henry Carroll, the son, was a cadet at West Point,
and was about abandoning his chosen profession for the want
of means, when Colonel Dumont wrote him an affectionate
letter, offering all that he required to complete his studies.
This offer, coming from one who had been a heavy loser by
his father's bankruptcy, was highly appreciated, and the
young student had allowed no false delicacy to prevent his
acceptance of the generous proposal, though with a stipula¬
tion to repay all sums, with interest. Colonel Dumont, in his
regular summer tour to the North, never failed to visit his
young friend, whose noble bearing and lofty principle entirely
won his heart, and he charged himself with a father's duty
towards him. A regular correspondence was kept up between
the self-constituted guardian and his protege ; and the more
the former read the heart of the young man, the more did he
rejoice that he had befriended him. He read with mingled
pride and affection the repeated instances of his daring
courage and matchless skill which found their way into the
newspapers; while the record of his humanity to a fallen
foe contributed to swell the tide of the old gentleman's affec¬
tion.
On his return from Mexico, Henry's first care was to see
2?
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
his devoted friend and guardian, and he accepted his pressing
invitation, to spend a month at Bellevue.
As an inmate of her father's family, he was, of course, a
constant companion of Emily. Her radiant beauty had
captivated his heart long ere the month had expired ; and he
saw, or thought he saw, in the heart of the fair girl, indica¬
tions of a sympathetic sentipient. In the rashness of his warm
blood he had allowed himself to cherish a lively hope that his
dawning love was not entirely unrequited. He had seen that
his bouquet was more fondly cherished than the offerings of
others ; that his hand, as she alighted from the carriage,
was more gladly received than any other; that his conver¬
sation never wearied her ; in 'short, there was in all their
intercourse an unmistakable exponent of feelings deeper
than those of common friendship.
In the midst of this delighted existence,—while yet he
revelled in the pleasure of loving and being loved, — there
came to him, like a dark cloud over a clear sky, the unwel¬
come thought that it was wrong for him to entangle the
affections of his benefactor's daughter. He was a beggar, —
the object of her father's charity. Her prospects were bril¬
liant and certain, and he felt that he had no right to mar or
destroy them. He knew that she would love him none the
less for his poverty; but, probably, her father had already
anticipated something better than a beggar for his future
son-in-law.
Poor Captain Carroll! The modesty of true greatness of
soul had left unconsidered the genuine nobility of the man.
He thought not of the name he had won on the field of battle,
— of the honorable wounds he bore as testimonials of his
devotion to his country. He was poor, and, in the despond¬
ency which his position induced, he attributed to wealth a
value which to the truly good it never possesses.
He loved Emily, and his poverty seemed to shut him out
from the hallowed field to which his heart fondly sought
admission.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
23
Henry Carroll was a high-minded man; he felt that to
love the daughter while the father's views were unknown to
him would be rank ingratitude; and ingratitude towards so
good a man, so kind a benefactor, was repugnant to every
principle of his nature. There ,was but one path open to
him. If he could not help loving her, he could strive to pre¬
vent the loved one from squandering her affections where
pain and sorrow might ensue. They had often met; but he
strove to believe, in his unwilling zeal, that their intimacy
had not yet resulted in an incurable passion. She had as yet
shown jiothing that could not have resulted, from simple
friendship. And yet she had, — the warm glow that adorned
her cheek when she received his flower, the expressive glance
of her soft eye as he assisted her to the carriage, the sweet
smile with which she had always greeted him, — ah, no,
these were not friendship! He could not believe that his
affection was unreturned ^ it was too precious to remain
unacknowledged. The will and the heart would not conform
to each other. But his duty seemed plain, and he did not
hesitate to obey its call, though it demanded a great sacri¬
fice.
The month to which he had limited his visit at Bellevue
expired about the period at which our tale begins. Inclina¬
tion prompted him to accept the pressing invitation of Colonel
Dumont to prolong his stay; but, bitter as was the thought
of parting from her he loved, his nice sense of honor com¬
pelled him to be firm in his purpose.
The announcement of his intended departure to Emily, as
they w6re seated in the' drawing-room on the designated day,
afforded him another evidence that her heart was not un¬
touched. Her pale cheek grew paler, and the playful smile
was instantly dismissed.
" So soon?" said she, scarcely able fo conceal the tremu¬
lous emotion which agitated her.
"So soon! I have finished the month allotted to me,"
24
HATCHIE: A TALE OP THE
replied Henry Carroll, with a weak effort to appear gayer
than he felt.
" Allotted to you! And pray are you stinted in the length
of your visit?"
" My orders will not permit a longer stay, happy as I
should be to remain ; and I have already trespassed long on
your hospitality."
" Indeed, Henry, you have grown sensitive! You were not
wont to consider your visits a trespass. Pray, have you not
been regarded as one of the family?"
" True, I have. I can never repay the debt of gratitude
for the many kindnesses I have received at your good father's
hands."
" He has been a thousand times repaid by the honorable
life you have led, — by feeling that the talents he has encour¬
aged you to foster are now blessing the world," replied
Emily, warmly; "so no more|pf your gratitude, if you
please."
" However lightly you, or your father, may regard my
obligations to him, I cannot view them coldly."
" Well, then, your presence here will give him more pleas¬
ure than any other token of respect you can bestow ; and, I
am sure, I should be rejoiced—that is to say — that is — I
should be glad to have you stay longer, if you can be con¬
tented," stammered Emily, as her mantling blushes betrayed
her confusion. Deception was not in her nature, and, strive
as hard as she might, she must reveal her feelings.
" I should be happier than it is possible for me to express
in remaining at Bellevue. My month has passed away like a
dream of pleasure, — so short it seemed that time had staid
his wheels,—so joyous that earth seemed shorn of sorrow.
You know not how np.tich I have enjoyed the society of your
father, and, pardon me, of yourself," returned Henry, scarcely
less confused than Emily.
" I am glad to hear you say so," she replied, with some
hesitation, and fearful of exposing the sentiment she was
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
25
conscious of cherishing. " I have thought that, accustomed
as you are to the stirring life of the camp, you had grown
tired of our quiet home."
" You wrong me, Emily. I should never weary here; but
I was fearful that I had already staid too long," said Henry,
in a sad tone, for he felt it most deeply, though not in the
sense that Emily understood him.
" Too long ! Then you are weary of us, and I will not
chide you for bidding us adieu," said Emily, with a glance of
anxiety at Henry.
" Nay, Miss Dumont, do not misinterpret my words. I
am not weary, I cannot be weary, of Bellevue and its fair
and good inmates."
" Then what mean you by saying you have staid too long?"
" Pardon me, I cannot tell why I said it; but I feel that
I should do wrong to prolong my stay, however congenial to
my feelings to do so," replied Henry, with the most evident
embarrassment.
" How strange you talk, Henry! What mystery is this V'
said Emily, to whom prudential motives were unknown.
" If it be a mystery, pray do not press me to unravel it,
for I cannot."
His resolution was fast giving way before the strength of"
his love. He was sorely tempted to throw himself at her
feet and pour forth the acknowledgment of his affection,
which, he felt, would be kindly received. It was a difficult
position for a man of sensitive feelings to be placed in, and
he felt it keenly. But the duty he owed to his benefactor
seemed imperative. -
Emily, on her part, was sadly bewildered by the strange¬
ness of Henry's words; but she had no suspicion of the
truth. If she had, perhaps, with a woman's ingenuity, she
had devised some plan to extricate him from the dilemma.
She was conscious of the strong interest she felt in the man
before her; but the fact that she loved him was yet unrecog¬
nized. How should it be? She was unskilled in the subtle-
3
26
hatchie: a tale of the
ties even of her own heart. She knew not the meaning
of love yet. She was conscious of a grateful sensation in
her heart; but she had yet to learn that this sensation was
that ealled love in the great world. She began to fear, in
her inability to account for Henry's strangeness in any other
way, that some secret sorrow weighed heavily upon him.
" I will not press you," said she, in a tone of affectionate
sympathy; "but, if you have any sorrow which oppresses
you, reveal it to my father, and take counsel against it. My
father's house is your home, — at least, we have always
endeavored to make it so. Father has always regarded you
with the affection of a parent, and taught me to consider you
as a brother — "
" A brother!" interrupted Henry, feeling that the relation
of brother and sister was too cold for the warmth of his
affection ? but, instantly banishing the unworthy thought, he
continued,
" And so, my pretty sister, you are for the first time enter¬
ing upon your sisterly relations ?"
" The first time ! Have I not always given you evidence
of a sister's esteem?"
" Pardon me. I only jested," said Henry, as the playful
smile left his countenance.
"Do not jest upon serious things, Henry," replied Emily.
" But, brother, something troubles you. You cannot deny it.
You look so gloomy and sad, and must leave us so suddenly."
" Nay, my sweet sister, — since sister I am permitted to
call you, — you must forgive me if I am obstinate just this
once."
" I will forgive your obstinacy because you desire it, and not
because I am satisfied. Do you know, brother," said she,
with a playful smile, " that I suspect you are in love?"
. This raillery was intended to have been uttered with a
pert archness ; but the crimson cheek and tremulous lips
entirely defeated the intention.
"Fie, sister! You are jesting now, yourself," replied
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
27
Henry, with what was intended for a smile, but which, like
his assailant's archness, was a signal failure. "
Both parties were now in the most unfortunate position .
imaginable. Neither dared to speak, for fear of disclosing their
emotions. Both felt the awkwardness of the silence, and
both felt the danger of breaking it. Henry twirled the tas¬
sel of the window drapery, and Emily twisted her pocket-
handkerchief into every conceivable shape. Henry was the
first to gather fortitude enough to venture a remark.
" I must leave you, sister, now that, for the first time, the
relation is acknowledged. I assure you, however, that I
appreciate the sisterly kindness you have always lavished
upon me. And I shall always remember this visit as the
happiest period of my life."
" Then I may hope you will often repeat it," replied Emily,
sadly.
" However pleasant it would be for me to do so, I fear my
duty will be a barrier to my inclination. My future post,
you are aware, is Newport."
" And you depart so suddenly, and then seem inclined to
make your absence perpetual! But we shall see you where-
ever you are. We go to Newport this season, if father's
health will permit," returned Emily, with a playful pout.
" I would stay by you, — that is, I would stay at Bellevue
forever, — if my duty to your father — I mean to my country
— would permit," stammered Henry, much agitated, as he
rose to depart.
" I must go and bid farewell to your father," continued
he, taking her hand, which he perceived trembled violently,
in his own; " and I trust you will remember your absent
brother—" kindly, he was about to say, but Emily,attempt¬
ing to rise, was overpowered by the emotions which she had
vainly striven to suppress, and sunk back in a swoon.
Henry summoned assistance, and applied the usual restor¬
atives, but he did not again venture to address her ; and, as
28
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
her pale features exhibited signs of returning consciousness,
he hurried"from the room.
As the hour of his departure drew near, he bade an affec¬
tionate farewell to Colonel Dumont, who was confined to his
room by illness. His kind friend used many entreaties for
him to prolong his stay, but Henry pleaded his duty, and that
the dying request of a brother officer required him to take
a journey into Georgia, which would consume some three or
four weeks' time. He intended to go to his future station by
the way of the Mississippi, and promised that, if any time
were left him on his return, he would again visit Bellevue.
This, however, he thought was improbable.
Colonel Dumont gave his protege much good advice, and, as
his failing health had infected his usually cheerful spirits, he
said that they would probably meet no more in this world.
He frankly told him that he should remember him in his
will, and wished him ever to regard Emily in the relation of
a sister.
This last wish seemed like a positive prohibition of the
fond hope he had cherished, of regarding her in a nearer and
more tender relation. He congratulated himself on the deci¬
sion with which he had resisted the temptation to avow his
love.
This injunction of Emily's father could be interpreted
in two ways, -— as a requirement to preserve the present
friendly relations, or as a prohibition against his ever making
her his wife. The latter method of rendering his meaning
seemed to him the most in accordance with their relative
positions, and he was compelled to adopt it.
After renewing his thanks to his benefactor, he took his
leave with a sad heart, and departed from the mansion which
contained his newly-found yet now rejected love.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
29
CHAPTER III.
" Macbeth. — What is't ye do 1
Witches. — A deed without a name."
Shakspeare.
In the management of his estates, Colonel Dumont had, for
many years, been assisted by an only brother. This brother
was directly the opposite of himself in character, in aims,
in everything. Even in his childhood this brother had dis¬
played a waywardness of disposition which gave the prom¬
ise of much evil in his future years. As the seed sown so
was the harvest. Parental instruction, counsel and rebuke,
were alike unavailing, and he attained the years of manhood
morose and unsympathizing in his disposition, avaricious and
hard with his equals, and cruel and unjust towards his infe¬
riors. His selfish mind, his low aims, and his tyrannical
character, had long been preparing him for deeds of villany
and injustice.
In the earlier years of his life he had been a merchant in
New Orleans; but, being universally detested for his mean¬
ness and duplicity, in a season of general panic in the finan¬
cial world he was completely ruined, by the want of those
kind offices which are so freely interchanged in the mercan¬
tile community. In this dilemma, he asked his brother's
assistance. Colonel Dumont examined his "aflairs, and, con¬
sidering his position in the community, with'the almost hope¬
less embarrassment of his concerns, concluded that success
under these circumstances was impossible. He frankly and
kindly informed his brother of his conclusion, and offered him
a share in his planting operations. His brother — Jaspar
3*
30
HATCHIE. A TALE OF TIIE
was sorely wounded in his pride by this reply. It generated
in him a sentiment, if not of malignity, at least of hatred,
and from that day he was his brother's enemy. Jaspar'a
business was gone, and he never allowed his spirit of revenge
even to interfere with his interest; so he availed himself of
his brother's offer.
Colonel Dumont trusted much to the gentle influence of his
family circle to soften Jaspar's moroseness, and infuse some
principle of charity and love. But these anticipations proved
vain. He was cold and taciturn. Business alone could call
forth the display of his energy, of which he was possessed of
a liberal share. The society of Emily and other ladies ho
seemed to shim. The gentle influence of domestic life seemed
entirely wasted upon him. Colonel Dumont was forced to
believe his brother a misanthrope, and no longer strove to
soften his character. Emily regarded his coldness as his
natural manner, and left him to the full enjoyment of his
eccentricity. Between persons of such opposite dispositions
there could be, of course, but little sympathy, and that little
was entirely upon one side.
The demon of Jaspar's nature displayed itself in the cane-
field and in the sugar-house, which Colonel Dumont rarely
visited, having intrusted the entire management of the estate
to him, his own attention being occupied by the exterior
business of the plantation, and by his city possessions. The
poor negro, who was compelled to submit to cruel usage and
short fare, knew Jaspar's nature better than uncle or niece.
His advent among them had been the era from which they
dated the life of misery they led—a life so different from that
they had been accustomed to under the superintendence of
the more Christian brother.
Jaspar Dumont managed the " negro stock" in the true
spirit of a demon, and as such the "hands" learned to
regard him. Runaways, which, under the mild management
of his brother, were rarely known, were common now ; and
SIISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
31
almost the only amusement Jaspar knew was to hunt them,
down with rifle and bloodhound.
This state of things Colonel Dumont saw, but he did not
appreciate the reason of it. Himself a rigid disciplinarian,
he wished not to interfere, though the cruelty of Jaspar
pained his heart. Ilis failing health had latterly withdrawn
his attention still more from the plantation, and Jaspar drew
the reins the tighter when he saw that the humane eye was
removed from him.
Such was Jaspar Dumont, whom we left in Maxwell's
office at the close of our first chapter.
On the day succeeding the departure of Henry Carroll, Colo¬
nel Dumont felt himself much weaker in body, and was fully
impressed with the conviction that his final sickness had laid
its hand upon him. To Emily he had not communicated these
gloomy forebodings, and she had discovered no alarming
symptoms in his illness. She had no suspicion of the na¬
ture of her father's business with Maxwell, and had borne
his message to the attorney, as she had often done before, in
her frequent visits to New Orleans, though on this occasion,
as may be supposed, she felt much delicacy in doing so.
In her absence Colonel Dumont had become more and more
impressed with the omens of a speedy dissolution, and in his
uneasiness had despatched Jaspar with a draft of his inten¬
tions, wishing the attorney to write the will in his office
(whex-e he could have his authorities at hand), and return
with his brother.
Maxwell considered the will and his own position, while
Jaspar lit another cigar. Each was striving to penetrate
the thoughts of the other, but neither had the boldness to
enter upon the subject which occupied his mind. The lawyer
wanted the lady and the fortune, and he had an undefined
purpose of obtaining them through the agency of Jaspar, who
wanted only the fortune, and had a decided anticipation of
being able to retain the attorney in his service. Neither knew
32
hatchie: a tale op the
the purposes of the other; but each wanted the assistance of
the other.
Maxwell, with an absent mind, perused and reperused the
first page of Colonel Dumont's instructions. Without a pur¬
pose he turned the leaf, and his attention was attracted by
the name of his formidable rival, Henry Carroll. He "read,
with astonishment, a bequest to him of fifty thousand dollars.
If it needed anything to complete his discomfiture, this was
sufficient. He began to think Colonel Dumont was in his
dotage. He had scarcely heard of Captain Carroll until his
return from Mexico, and now he was a legatee in the will of
a millionaire. With much anxiety he completed the reading
of the instructions, fearful that he should find the young offi¬
cer's name in connection with Emily's. To his great relief he
found no such allusion, and again he applied himself to the
task of writing out the will.
Jaspar smoked his cigar, glanced occasionally at the news¬
paper, and stared ouj of the window. He was evidently lost
to all around him, in the workings of his own mind. Now
his thoughts seemed to excite him, for his eye glared with an
unusual lustre, and his thin lips moved, as if they would dis¬
close the operations of his mind. " Will he do it?" mut¬
tered he. " He shall do it, or by he shall suffer ! I
have the means of compelling him. I will use them."
Apparently satisfied with his conclusion, he rose hastily
and approached the attorney. A smooth smile — an un¬
wonted expression on his features — seemed to come on
demand. Again he looked over the lawyer's shoulder. He
saw the name of Henry Carroll, and his former severe expres¬
sion returned, and his frame was stirred by angry emotions.
A half-suppressed oath did not escape the quick ear of the
attorney, and he turned to observe the face of his companion.
He read at a glance the dissatisfaction which the will occa¬
sioned. The reason was plain ; and, with the intention of
drawing out Jaspar's views, he addressed him.
" This Carroll is a lucky fellow," said he.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
33
" The devil is always the luckiest fellow in the crowd,"
growled Jaspar, with an oath.
" You are right, sir," returned Maxwell, pleased to see no
better feeling between his rival and the uncle.
" But who is this Carroll ?" said he.
" A hungry cub, whom the colonel has helped along in the
world."
"Well, he has proved himself a brave and skilful officer,
and reflects credit on your brother's judgment in the selection
of a protege.,^ returned Maxwell, adroitly.
" The fellow is all well enough, for aught I know, but he
has wheedled the colonel out of fifty thousand dollars, and
I can never forgive him for that," said Jaspar, in what
was intended for a playful tone, but which was designed as a
"feeler" of the attorney's conscience.
" But there is still an immense property left, even after
deducting the liberal charitable donations," said Maxwell.
" There is, but where does it go to? That whining young
cub has divided a hundred thousand-with me, and the silly
girl has the rest."
" Which will eventually go into the hands of Captain Car¬
roll,— lucky dog, he !" returned Maxwell, striving to pro¬
voke Jaspar still more.
"What! what mean you, man'?" said Jaspar, with a
scowl, as he caught a glimpse of the attorney's meaning.
" Is it possible, my dear sir," said Maxwell, laying down
his pen, and turning half round, " is it possible you have
not observed the intimacy which has grown up between this
Carroll and your niece1?"
"Intimacy! what do you mean? Speak out! no equivo¬
cation !" said Jaspar, almost fiercely.
" Do you not see that she will yet be the wife of Captain
Carroll ?"
Jaspar scowled, but said nothing. He had seen nothing
from which he could draw such an inference, but he doubted
not the information was correct.
34
hatchik: a tale op the
« Well well, it matters not. He may aa well have it as
\v eu, w , ^ wU1 guitg me not; and must be
she," muttered ne.
Tsroken or altered •
« It is hard upon you," said Maxwell, who had overheard
Jaspar's mutterings.
"It is rather hard to be placed upon the same level
with a comparative stranger," replied Jaspar, thoughtfully,
after a long pause. He had not intended the lawyer should
hear his previous remarks, and had reflected whether he
should disown them, or pursue the subject as thus opened.
" Of course you will not mention the idle remark I made,"
continued Jaspar, in a vein of prudence. " My brother has
an undoubted right to dispose of his property as he pleases."
" 0, certainly. What transpires in my office is always
regarded with -the strictest confidence, whatever its nature,
and however it affects any individual," replied Maxwell, lav¬
ing peculiar emphasis on the latter clause.
" That's right, always be secret," said Jaspar, without
any of the appearance of obligation for the favor which the
attorney expected to see.
" I have secrets in my possession which would ruin some
of the best families in the State of Louisiana."
" Without doubt," replied Jaspar, coldly.
The attorney resumed his writing, and pronounced in an
audible tone each sentence as he committed it to the paper.
" To my beloved brother — Jaspar Dumont—I give and
bequeath the sum of fifty thousand dollars."
These words, as intended, again fired Jaspar's passions.
" Is there no remedy for this V asked he, hastily.
"No legal remedy," replied Maxwell, indifferently, as he
continued his task.
" Is there any, legal or illegal ?"
" None that an honest man would be willing to resort to."
" That any man would resort to ?" and Jaspar was not a
little provoked at the attorney's moral inferences.
" I know of none."
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
35
" I do."
" Then why do you not put it into operation before it is
too late ? The will is now nearly written."
" Pshaw! man; you do not understand me. A bolder step
than you are thinking of."
"Well, what do you wait for
" I need assistance."
" If I can afford you any aid, honorably, I shall be most
happy."
" Honorably! What the devil do you mean by honor¬
ably?" said Jaspar, exasperated by this unexpected display
of morality.
'' What do I mean by honorably ? Why, anything which
does not affect the legal or moral rights of others," replied
Maxwell, a little touched by the seeming reflection of Jaspar.
"Fudge! how long have you been so conscientious?"
sneered Jaspar.
" When a man has a reputation to make or break, it
'becomes him to handle it with care."
"Out upon you, man! Your reputation is not so fair,
that you need be so tender of it," replied Jaspar, with some
severity.
" Sir! "
" 0, you needn't' sir' me! You have led me to commit
myself, and now assume a virtue you possess not."
" Sir, I value my reputation, and "
" Of course you do, but you would not sacrifice a fortune
for it," interrupted Jaspar, easily changing the tenor of the
conversation.
" I certainly would not stain it unnecessarily," replied
Maxwell, with a meaning smile, for he saw the folly of
attempting the " high flight" with Jaspar.
" Now you talk sensibly," said Jaspar.
" Mr. Dumont, it is useless to beat about the bush any
longer ; if you have any proposition to make, out with it at
36
hatchie: a tale of the
once ; and if I cannot aid you, I will, at least, keep your
secret."
" Will you swear never to reveal what I shall propose ]"
" Yes, if paid for it," said Maxwell, frankly.
" It is well. Now, I will put you in the way of making
ten thousand dollars, if you so will," said Jaspar, slapping
the attorney on the back with a familiarity which was likely
to breed contempt.
This was a tempting offer, and Maxwell prepared to listen
to the proposition. He was aware that it was some design
upon the estate of Colonel Dumont, and he inwardly resolved
to be a gainer by the operation, whether he joined in it or
not.
Jaspar Dumont laid aside his sternness, and disclosed his
plot to Maxwell. It was, as may be supposed, a nefarious
scheme, and hot only intended to deprive Henry Carroll of his
legacy, but also to disinherit the heiress, and cast a stigma
upon the character of his brother.
The plot we will not here disclose.
Maxwell listened attentively, occasionally interrupting the
speaker, by asking for details, or pointing out dangers. But
the foul wrong intended towards her for whom he entertained
warmer sentiments than those of friendship shocked even his
hardened sensibilities, and he strongly objected to its con¬
summation. It would also, by stripping her of her broad
lands, and stigmatizing her birth, render her undesirable as a
wife. But Jaspar was firm in his purpose, and refused to
listen to any other scheme. This one, he contended, was
the safest and surest.
" But it is a diabolical transaction," suggested Maxwell.
" Call it what you will, it is the only one that will work
well."
Maxwell remained silent. He was studying to make this
scheme subservient to his own purpose. He was obliged to
confess to himself that his hopes with the heiress were worse
than folly, and he judged that the execution of Jaspar's
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
37
scheme would remove his rival. He looked forward years,
and saw his own purpose gained by means of Jaspar's plan.
It was true that he and Jaspar both could not have her
estates ; but then Jaspar was a villain, and it would be a
good service, at a convenient season, to be a traitor to him.
His plans were arranged, and he determined to encourage his
companion to proceed, though, at the same time, to seem
unwilling, and to keep his own hands clean from all partici¬
pation in it.
After this long interval of silence, which Jaspar had
endured with patience, for he recognized the' truth of the
saying, that " He who deliberates is damned," Maxwell
said,
" I cannot consent to stain my hands with such gross
injustice."
" You cannot!" sneered Jaspar.
" It would ruin me."
" It was part of my intention to keep the transaction a
secret," said Jaspar, sarcastically.
"Of course, and your confidence in me shall not be
misplaced."
Jaspar's fists were clenched, and a demoniacal expression
rested on his countenance, as he said, savagely,
" You know your own interest too well to do otherwise."
" I am not to be intimidated," replied Maxwell, who de¬
spised his companion most heartily, and did not relish his
tyrannical manner. " Your confidence, I repeat, is safe.
Honor will keep your secret, — threats will not compel me
to do so."
" Honor! ha, ha, ha!" chuckled Jaspar. " Do you know,
Maxwell, that you are a fool, to talk to me of your
honor V
" Would you insult me, sir?" said Maxwell, with vehe¬
mence.
"0, no, my fine fellow! Your honor! — ha, ha!"
returned Jaspar, taking from his pocket a little slip of
4
38
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
paper. " Look here, my honorable worthy, do you know this
check?"
Maxwell's face assumed a livid hue, and a convulsive
tremor passed through his frame, as he read the check.
In a moment of temporary embarrassment he had been
tempted to forge the name of Colonel Dumont to this check,
for five hundred dollars, to liquidate a debt of honor, not
doubting that he should be able to obtain it again before the
day of settlement at the bank, by means of a dissolute teller,
a boon companion at the gaming-table. But Colonel Du¬
mont, in arranging his affairs for their final settlement, had
sent Jaspar for a statement of his bank account at an unu¬
sual time. Jaspar, who, in the illness of his brother, had
managed all his business, immediately discovered the forgery.
Without disputing its genuineness, he ascertained who had
presented it, and traced the deed to the attorney, and thus
obtained a hold upon him which was peculiarly favorable to
the execution of his great purpose.
" You see I have not laid myself open to your fire with¬
out fortifying my position," said Jaspar, enjoying, with
hearty relish, the discomfiture of the lawyer. " Now, no more
of honor to me. I have kept your secret for my own interest,
and now you will keep mine from the same motive."
" But I dare not do this thing," replied Maxwell, keenly
sensitive to the weakness of his position ; "I lack the
ability."
" You have signed the colonel's name once very well; per¬
haps you can do it again," sneered Jaspar, who had no
mercy for an unwilling servant.
" It will not be for your interest or mine that I should do
it," returned Maxwell, determined, if possible, to avoid com¬
mitting himself.
" Why not?" said Jaspar.
" My frequent visits to Bellevue would subject me to sus¬
picion. I am known. Another would not be suspected. If
MISSISSIPPI AND THE "SOUTH-WEST.
39
I clear myself, I shall clear you at the same time. I can
procure a person who will accomplish all in safety."
" Think you I will trust another man with the possession
of the secret ?"
" I shall compromise my own safety by writing the will,
as you propose."
" True, — who is this person?"
"His name is " and Maxwell hesitated; then a
severe fit of coughing apparently prevented his uttering the
name — " his name is Antoine De Guy."
" Do I know him?"
" You do, I think, — a kind of street lawyer, —you must
have met him i&t the Exchange."
" What looking man is he ?"
" About fifty years of age," replied Maxwell, more thought¬
ful than the simple description of a person would seem to
require, — " rather corpulent, black hair and whiskers, inter¬
mixed with gray, — dresses old-fashioned, and always looks
rusty."
" I do not remember him,—De Guy — De Guy," said
Jaspar, musing; " no, I do not know him. Are you confi¬
dent he can be trusted?"
" Perfectly confident. I pledge my own safety on his
fidelity," replied Maxwell, not a little satisfied at gaining his
point, —for he had a point, and a strong one, as the reader
may yet have occasion to know.
" Very good, — I will inquire about him."
" And expose us both!" replied Maxwell, in much
alarm.
" True, — on reflection, it would not be wise, and it would
be best for you and I not to be seen together. But finish the
will; the colonel will not relish my long absence. A word
more : do not eay anything about this will. The colonel has
a fancy to keep it secret, and this fancy will be the salvation
of our scheme."
But we will not follow the conversation any further. The
40
HATCHIE : A TALE OP THE
reader has obtained a sufficient knowledge of these worthies
from their own mouths, to believe them capable of any yil-
lany they may be called upon to perpetrate.
The plot was further arranged in all its details. A meet¬
ing with De Guy was fixed for the next day, when all parties
were to be prepared to act their parts.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
41
CHAPTER IV.
" He is a man, setting his fate aside,
Of comely virtues;
Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice,
But with a noble fury and a fair spirit
He did oppose his foe."
Shakspeare.
Colonel Dumont's melancholy forebodings proved to be too
well grounded, for in ten days after the departure of Henry Car¬
roll he breathed his last, not fully ripe in years, but mature in
the stature of a good man. His worldly afiairs had all been
arranged, and with his mind at peace with God and man he
bade a final adieu to his weeping daughter and dissembling
brother, and calmly resigned his spirit to its. Author.
The mansion of Colonel Dumont had been the abode of
happiness. Cheerfulness and contentment — rare visitors
at the home of opulence — dwelt gracefully amid the luxu¬
rious splendor of this house. But now a heavy stroke of
affliction had come upon the devoted Emily. The ruthless
hand of death had struck down her father in the midst of
prosperity and happiness. She felt that she was alone in the
world. Her unsympathizing uncle seemed not to feel th
loss, but appeared even more cold and churlish than evei.
She could not expect from him the offices of kindness and
sympathy. She was an orphan, but not till she was pre
pared to combat with the trials of life. Recognizing th
hand of Providence in this visitation of the Angel of Death
she bowed meekly and submissively to the Master Will, anr
was even cheerful and happy in her tears.
It was about ten o'clock on the night succeeding the fune-
4.#
42
hatchie: a tale of the
ral of Colonel Dumont that a small canoe, containing a
single individual, touched at the bank of the river near the
now gloomy mansion. Leaping from the canoe, which was
nearly swamped by the act, the person it had contained drew
the frail bark beyond the reach of the rapid current, and
ascended the steep bank. Following the smooth shell road
through the long vista of negro huts, he reached the little
grove of tropical trees which, surrounded' the proprietary
mansion. Casting an anxious glance around him, to satisfy
himself that he was not watched, he cautiously approached
the only illuminated window on that side of the house, upon
which, after a close scrutiny of the interior of the room, he
Vgave several light taps. This signal was answered by Jaspar
Dumont, who, with a word of caution, opened the window.
The stranger, with a light spring which belied his apparent
years, gained the interior of the room, which was the library
of the late owner.
The person who had thus obtained admission was the law¬
yer, Antoine De Guy, whom Maxwell had suggested as a fit
agent for the execution of Jaspar's scheme. He was cer¬
tainly an odd-looking man. His face was of a very dark red
color, much like that which is produced by the united effects
of exposure and intemperance, and was encircled by a pair
of black whiskers, intermixed with gray. His cranium was
ornamented with a huge mass of the same parti-colored hair.
His fiery red nose was placed in strange contrast with a pair
of green spectacles, which entirely concealed the color and
expression of his eyes. His clothes were of a most primitive
cut, and had probably been black once, but were now rusty
and white from long service. His form was portly, a little
inclined to corpulency. His hands were most unprofession-
ally dirty; but this might have been occasioned by contact
with the canoe in his passage. ^On one of his fingers glittered
a diamond ring, which, considering the lack of ornaments
in other respects, but ill accorded with the apparent parsi¬
mony of the man. It might, however, have been obtained in
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
43
the way of trade, for Maxwell had hinted that he did busi¬
ness under the sign of the "three golden balls." He was
apparently in the neighborhood of five-and-forty, and looked
like the debauchee in the face, while his dress indicated the
penurious man of business.
" Did any one see you1?" asked Jaspar, whose teeth were
chattering with apprehension, notwithstanding his natural
boldness.
" Not that I am aware of," replied De Guy, in a silky
tone, which, proceeding from such a form, would have aston¬
ished the listener. >
" You met no one I" interrogated the anxious Jaspar.
" Not a soul! Everything was still."
" Let us be sure of it. Step into this room for a moment.
I will see that all the servants have retired," said Jaspar,
pushing his confederate into an adjoining apartment.
A light pull at the boll-rope brought to the library the
body-servant of the late planter.
This " boy," who was known by the name of Hatchte, was
a mulatto. He was about forty years of age, and, having
never been reduced to labor in the cane-fields, bore his age
remarkably well. He was about six feet in height, very stout
built, and was endowed with immense physical strength.
His brow was a little wrinkled, and his head was a little bald
upon the top, — and these were the only evidences of his
years. His expression was that of great intelligence. In
his countenance there was a kind of humility, to which his
demeanor corresponded, that might have resulted from his
condition, or have been inherent in his nature. He was a
man who, even in a land of slavery, would be instinctively
respected.
He had been a great favorite with his late master, in whose
family he had spent- the greater part of his life. By being
constantly in attendance upon' him and his guests, he had
acquired a much greater amount of information than is often
found in those of his condition. He could read and write,
44
hatchie: a tale of the
and by his intelligence and singular fidelity had proved a
valuable addition to his master's household. Possessing his
confidence, and regarded more as a friend than a slave by
Emily, he was a privileged person in the house, — a confi¬
dence which in no instance did he abuse, and which in no
degree abated his affection or his fidelity.
Hatchie was not a phrenologist, but he had long ago
acquired a perfect knowledge of Jaspar's character, — a
knowledge which his master or Emily had never obtained.
Hatchie considered Emily, now that her father was dead,
as his own especial charge, and he watched over her, in the
disparity of their stations; very much as a faithful dog
watches over a child intrusted to its keeping. Towards her
he entertained a sentiment of the profoundest respect as his
mistress, and of parental affection as one who had grown up
under his eye.
" Hatchie," said Jaspar, as the mulatto entered the libra¬
ry, " are the hands all in?"
"Yes, sir," replied Hatchie, whose penetrating mind
detected the tremulous quiver of Jaspar's lip ; " all in two
hours ago, according to regulations."
" All right, then. You can go to bed now."
" Yes, sir," replied Hatchie, with his customary obeisance,
as he turned to depart.
" Stay a moment. Go to Miss Emily, and get the keys of
the secretary," said Jaspar, with assumed carelessness.
Hatchie obeyed; and, suspecting something before, he was
confirmed in the opinion now, and determined to watch. His
suspicions of something — he knew not what — had been
excited by seeing Maxwell in earnest consultation with Jas¬
par on the day of the funeral. He had, of course, no idea
of the plots of the latter; but, in common with all the
" boys," he hated Jaspar, and was willing to know more of
his transactions.
Giving the keys to Jaspar, he left the room, and heard the
creaking of the bolt which fastened the door.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
45
As soon as the servant had departed, Jaspar called his
confederate from his concealment.
" Are you ready for business V' said he.
" I am," replied De Guy, " as soon as you pay me the first
instalment. I can't take a single step in the dark."
" Here it is," and Jaspar took from his pocket the money.
" Have you the document!"
"I have," replied De Guy, producing the fictitious will,
which Maxwell had drawn up in conformity with the instruc¬
tions of Jaspar.
" And you are ready to affix the signature?" said Jaspar,
who appeared not to be in the possession of his usual confir
dence. Few villains ever become so hardened as never to
tremble.
"Iam. I came for that purpose. Give me the genuine
will, and I will soon make this one so near like it that the
witnesses themselves shall not discover the cheat," replied
De Guy, with an air of confidence.
" You shall have it.; but first read this to me. I do noth¬
ing blindly."
The attorney, in his silky tones, read the paper through,
and Jaspar pronounced it correct in every particular.
" I see nothing in the way of entire success," said Jaspar,
rubbing his hands with delight at his prospective fortune.
" Nor I," replied De Guy, " except that these witnesses
will deny the substance of it."
" How can they, when they know it not? The colonel, for
some reason or other, would not let them read it or know its
purport. Maxwell and myself are pledged to secrecy. It is
upon this fact that I based the scheme."
" But the will would not be worth a tittle in the law with
such witnesses."
" Bah! the colonel knew no one would contest it. He did
it at his own risk."
" But will they not contest your will V
" If they do, I shall find the means of proving what the
46
HATCIIIE : A TALE OF T1IE
document affirms, and my case will then stand just as well.
As a kind of assurance for the witnesses my brother affixed
a character, — a kind of cabalistic design, — upon the will,
assuring them it was placed on the will alone. You have
a copy of this design?"
" I have. Maxwell gave it to me, and I have practised
till I can do it to perfection. Tour brother had an odd way
of doing business."
" He had; but his oddity in this instance is a God-send."
"But the other document, Mr. Dumont! My stay is
already too long!"
Jaspar, taking the keys from the table, opened the secre¬
tary, and took from a small iron safe in the lower part of it a
large packet, on which were several large masses of wax
bearing the impress of Colonel Dumont's seal.
" Now, De Guy," said he, " do your best."
" Do not fear! I never yet saw a name I could not imi¬
tate."
"So much the better; but be careful, I entreat you!
Think how much depends upon care !"
"0,1 can do it so nicely that your brother himself would
not deny it, if he should step out of his grave!"
"Silence, man!" said Jaspar, angrily,' as a superstitious
thrill of terror crept through his veins.
Jaspar took up the packet, and was about to snap the seals,
when, quicker than thought, the window through which De
Guy had entered flew open, and Hatchie leaped into the
room. Without giving Jaspar or his accomplice time to
recover from the surprise of his sudden entrance, he levelled
a blow at the lawyer, and another at the perfidious brother,
which placed both in a rather awkward position on the floor.
Hatchie then seized the envelope containing the will, and
made his escape in the manner he had entered, well knowing
that Jaspar would not hesitate to take his life rather than be
foiled in his purpose.
The mulatto's blows produced no serious effect upon the
Uatchie knocking clown De Guy and Jasper, and stealing the will. Page 46.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
47
heads of the two villains, and, recovering from the surprise
and shock the act had occasioned, they lost not a moment in
pursuing their assailant. Hatchie directed his course to the
river, and scarcely a moment had elapsed before he heard the
steps of his pursuers. Leaping down the bank, he ran along
by the edge of the water, with the intention of reaching a
boat which he knew was moored a few rods further down.
In his flight, however, he discovered the canoe in which De
Guy had arrived, and, casting it off, he paddled with aston¬
ishing rapidity towards the opposite shore.
His pursuers reached the bank, and perceiving the canoe
through the darkness, Jaspar discharged his rifle at it. A
heavy splash followed the discharge. The canoe appeared to
float at the mercy of the current. Jaspar and De Guy, satis¬
fied that the rifle-ball had done its work, hastened down
stream to a small point of land which projected into the
river, with the hope of securing the canoe and the body of
the slave, upon which they expected to find the will. The
canoe was driven ashore, as they had anticipated ; but it con¬
tained not the objects for which they sought. The corpse of
Hatchie was nowhere to be found, though they paddled
about the river an hour in search of it, — not that the body
of the mulatto was of any consequence, but in the hope of
obtaining the precious will.
Here was a contingency for which Jaspar was wholly
unprepared. - The original signature of the will was not now
available, and they must trust to luck for accuracy in sign¬
ing the false one. There was little difficulty in this, as the
will was known to have been signed in the usual* manner,
and the private character they had in their possession. Still
Jaspar felt that' the original paper afforded the surer means
of deceiving the witnesses. They had before intended to
produce a fac-simile, mechanically, of the original, — a pur¬
pose which could not now be accomplished. The witnesses
were all friends of Colonel Dumont, and they had various
papers.signed by them from which to copy their signatures.
48
hatchie: a tale op the
* The worst, and to Jaspar's daring mind the only difficulty
which now presented itself, was the fear that the body of
Hatchie might be found, and the genuine wUl thus brought
to light. After much reflection and consultation with De
Guy, he determined to risk all, to watch for the body, and be
prepared to overcome any obstacle which might be presented.
With this conclusion they returned to the library. By the
aid of old notes, checks, and other papers, the fictitious will
was duly signed, the significant character affixed, and the
document enveloped so as to exactly resemble the original
packet.
The whole transaction was so well performed that Jaspar
retired to his pillow confident of success, to await the result
on the morrow, when the will was to be read.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
49
CHAPTER V.
" Is this the daughter of a slave 1 I know
'T is not with men as shrubs and trees, that by
The shoot you know the rank and order of
The stem. Tet who from such a stem would look
For such a shoot 1" Knowles.
The morrow came. Emily was summoned to thedibrary,
to hear the reading of her father's will. "With her no
worldly consideration could mitigate the deep grief that per¬
vaded her heart. She derived her only consolation from a
purer, higher source. She was a true mourner, and the
acquisition of the immense fortune of which she was the
heiress was not an event which could heal the wound in her
heart. She looked not forward to the bright scenes of tri¬
umph and of conquest that awaited her. She was not dazzled
by the brilliancy of the position to which wealth and an
honorable name entitled her. Such thoughts never occurred
to her. She did think of Henry Carroll; but not in the proud
situation to which her wealth might elevate him, but as a
pure heart that would beat in unison with her own, that
would sympathize with her in her hour of sorrow; as one
who would mingle his tears with hers, over the bier of a
common parent. She was not sentimental in her love, nor in
her grief. Sighs and tears with her were not a sentimental
commodity, — an offering which the boarding-school miss
makes alike at the altar of her love, or at the shrine of a
dead parent's memory. The desolation of heart and home
was not a trial which wealth and honors could adorn with
tinsel, and thus render it desirable, or even tolerable!
5
50
hatchie: a tale ob the
Emily Dumont entered the library. The occasion was
repugnant to her feelings. The unceremonious blending of
dollars and cents with the revered name of her father was
extremely painful to her sensibility. It seemed like a profa¬
nation of his memory.
Her uncle, Maxwell, the witnesses of the will, and several
others, — intimate friends of the family, —were already there.
On Jaspar's countenance were no tell-tale traces of the last
night's villany. He looked gloomy and sorrowful. So thor¬
oughly had he schooled himself in hypocrisy for this occasion,
that the scene he knew would, in a few minutes, transpire,
had no prophetic indications in his features. Like the trage¬
dian who is tranquil and unaffected in the scene in which he
knows Jus own death or triumph occurs, Jaspar was calm,
and his aspect even sanctimonious.
As Emily entered Maxwell tendered his sympathies in his
usual elegant manner, and so touchingly did he allude to the
death of her father that with much difficulty she restrained a
flood of tears. The scene in the office, and the disfavor with
which she had lately regarded him, were forgotten in his elo¬
quence.
After this courtesy to the daughter of his former patron,
Maxwell again seated himself, and after briefly and formally
stating the reasons of their meeting, to which he added a short
but apparently very feeling eulogy of the deceased, he took
the packet from the safe, and proceeded to break the seals.
In his full and musical tones the attorney read the prelim¬
inary parts of the instrument, and then commenced upon the
principal items of the will. First came several legacies to
charitable institutions and to personal friends; after which
was a legacy of ten thousand dollars to Emily Dumont, to be
paid in Cincinnati by his brother. The testator further
declared that the said Emily was manumitted, and should pro¬
ceed under the guidance of his brother to the place desig¬
nated for the payment of the legacy?
Emily, who had scarcely heeded the provisions of the will
MISSISSIPPI AND TIIE SOUTH-WEST.
51
until the mention of her name attracted her attention, was,
as may be supposed, somewhat astonished to hear her own
name in connection with a legacy. She raised her sad eyes
from the floor, and heard the other stipulations in regard to
her. So utterly unexpected, so terribly revolting, was the
clause which pronounced her a slave, that for a time she did
not realize its awful import. But the blank dismay of her
friends, the well-counterfeited surprise of Jaspar and Max¬
well, brought her to a painful sense of her position. She
attempted to rise, but in the act the color forsook her face,
and she sunk back insensible. In this condition she was
conveyed to her room.
The attorney completed the reading of the will, though,
after the extraordinary incident which had just occurred, but
little attention was given him. The witnesses at once recog¬
nized the strange character, and acknowledged the signatures
to be genuine. Here, then, thought they, was the reason
why the provisions of the will had been concealed from them.
So impressed were they with the apparent purpose of ColonQl
Dumont in throwing the veil of secrecy over the contents of
his will, that the very strangeness of it seemed to confirm its
genuineness ; and they did not scrutinize it so closely as
under other circumstances they probably would have done.
How often may a good motive be tortured, by the appear¬
ance of evil, into the most despicable criminality! Colonel
Dumont in this will had devised large sums of money to vari¬
ous charitable institutions, and in the event of his life being
prolonged, did not wish to be pointed at and lauded for this
act. True charity is modest, and Colonel Dumont did not
desire to see his name blazoned forth to the world for doing
that which he honestly and religiously deemed his duty.
This modesty had favored Jaspar's plans. No one could
now gainsay the will he had invented; and he felt strong in
his position, especially after the witnesses had assented to
their signatures.
Among the persons who had been present in the library
52
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
was Mr. Faxon, an aged and worthy clergyman. He had for
many years been an intimate friend of Colonel Dumont, and
was a legatee in his will to a liberal amount. A constant
visitor in the family, its spiritual adviser and comforter, he
had possessed the unlimited confidence of the late planter
and his daughter. To him the whole clause relating to Em¬
ily seemed like a falsehood. Pure and holy in his own char¬
acter, it was beyond his conception that a man of Colonel
Dumont's lofty and Christian views could have lived so
many years in the practice of this deception. He had no
means of disproving the illegitimacy of Emily. The family
had been unknown to him at the period of her birth. The
house-servants, with the exception of Hatchie, were all
younger than Emily. Then, the statement was made in the
will, and was, therefore, the statement of Colonel Dumont
himself, — for the genuineness of the will he did not call in
question. In accordance with his general character, her
father had manumitted her, and left her a competence. From
this clause he inferred that her father intended to place her
beyond the reach of harm, and beyond the possibility of ever
being reduced to the degraded condition so often the lot of
the quadroon at the South. He had not only given her free¬
dom, but had provided for her conveyance beyond the pale
of slavery. With these intentions, if she were in reality a
slave, Mr. Faxon could find no fault. They were liberal in
the extreme. But why had he, at this late period, men¬
tioned the stain upon her birth ? Why not let her live as he
had educated her J These queries were so easily answered
that the good clergyman could not condemn the dead on
account of them. If the daughter, then she was the heiress ;
if not, legitimately, it would be injustice to the brother.
Mr. Faxon reasoned in this manner. He could not believe,
even with all the evidence before him. There was a reason¬
able answer, apparently, to every objection he could think
of, and he resolved to apply to Jaspar and Hatchie for more
information. All that Jaspar could say, or would say, in
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
53
answer to his interrogatories, was that his brother's wife had
died in giving birth to a dead child ; and that Emily, who
was the child of a house-servant by him, had so engaged his
attention by her singular beauty that he had substituted her
for his own child. This story, Jaspar said, his brother had
told him in the strictest confidence, many years before. Mr.
Faxon, appreciating the disappointment of a father with such
a sensitive nature as Colonel Dumont, was willing to believe
that Emily had been substituted to supply in his affections
-the place of the lost child; but that he should educate
her as his own child, and then cast her out from the pale
of society, was incredible !
The evidence was so strong, he could see no escape from
the terrible conclusion that the gentle being, to whom he had
ministered in joy and in sorrow, was a slave! It required a
hard struggle in his mind before he could reconcile himself
to the revolting truth. Her beautiful character, built up
mostly under his own supervision, he regarded with peculiar
pride. He was not so bigoted, however, as to believe his
labors lost, or even less worthy, because bestowed, as it now
appeared, upon a slave. In heaven his labors would be just
as apparent in the quadroon as in the noble-bom lady.
After the departure of the friends who had been summoned
to the reading of the will, and whose stay had been prolonged
by the melancholy interest they felt in the unfortunate
Emily, Mr. Faxon requested to see her, and was shown to
her room. She had just been restored to consciousness, by
the assiduous efforts of her maids, as the good man entered.
" O, Mr. Faxon !" sobbed Emily, but she could articulate
no more. The terrible reality of her situation had entirely
overcome her.
" Be comforted, my dear child," said Mr. Faxon, affec¬
tionately, taking her hand. " The ways of Providence are
mysterious, and we must bend humbly to our lot."
" I will try to be resigned to my fate, terrible as it is,"
replied Emily, looking at the minister with a subdued expres-
'*5*
54
hatchie: a tale of the
sion, while hot tears poured down her cheeks. " You will
not forsake me, if all others do!"
" No, no, my dear child ; it is my duty to wrestle with
sorrow. I have come to direct your thoughts to that better
world, where the distinctions of caste do not exist."
" O, that I could die!" murmured Emily, as a feeling of
despair crept to her mind.
" Nay, child, you must not repine at the will of Heaven.
In God's own good time He will call you hence."
" I will not repine; but what a terrible life is before me!"
" The future is wisely concealed from us. It is in the
keeping of the Almighty. He may have many years of hap¬
piness and usefulness in store for you."
" But I am an outcast now, — one whom all my former'
friends will despise, — a slave !" replied Emily, covering her
face with her hands, and sobbing convulsively.
" Nay, be calm ; do not give way to such bitter thoughts.
This may be a deception, though, to be candid, I .can
scarcely see any reason to think so."
•Emily caught at the slight hope thus extended to her ; her
eyes brightened, and a little color returned to her pallid
cheek.
" Heaven send that it may prove so !" said she ; " for I
cannot believe that he who taught me to call him by the
endearing name of father ; who watched so tenderly over my
infancy, and guided my youthful heart so faithfully ; who,
an hour before he died, called me daughter, and blessed me
with his dying breath, — I cannot believe he has been so
cruel to me!"
" It seems scarcely possible ; but, my child, the ways of
Providence are inscrutable. Whatever afflictions visit us,
they are ordered for our good. Trust in God, my dear one,
and all will yet be well."
" I will, I will! My father's and your good instructions
shall not be lost upon me, slave though I am. Dear father,"
said she, and the tears blinded her, — "I love his memory
Mrssrssippi and the south-west.
55
still, though every word of this hated will were true. I
ought not to repine, whatever be my future lot. That he
loved me as a daughter, I can never doubt; that he never told
me I am a slave, I will forgive, for he meant it well."
" I am glad to witness your Christian faith and patience
in this painful event. But, Emily, had you no intimation or
suspicion of this trial before V'
" No, never, not the slightest," said Emily, wiping away
the tears which had gathered on her cheeks.
" See if you cannot call to mind some slight circumstance,
which you can now recognize as such."
Emily reflected a few moments, and then replied that she
could not.
" And your house-servants are all too young to remember
as long ago as your birth f''
" All but Hatchie."
" Perhaps you had better send for him, and I will question
him.
" I will, and I pray that his knowledge may favor me."
Emily sent one of the maids for Hatchie ; but she returned
in a few moments, accompanied by Jaspar, who, hearing her
inquiries for the man his rifle-ball had sent to the other world,
had come to prevent any injurious surmises.
This man, Hatchie, had not escaped Jaspar's attention, in
the maturing of his plot; but, as in some other of the par¬
ticulars, he had trusted to the facilities of the moment for the
means of silencing him. Being a man, it was not probable
he could know much of the events attending the birth of
Emily to his prejudice. If it should prove that he did, why,
it was an easy thing to get rid of him. His rifle-ball or the
slave-market were always available. But Jaspar's good for¬
tune had smiled upon him, and he felt peculiarly happy, at
this moment, in the reflection that he was out of the way,
for he doubted not the object of Emily in sending for him.
" Miss Emily," said Jaspar, in a tone of unwonted soft¬
ness, " I am sorry to say that your father's favorite servant
56
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
met with a sad.mishap last night, of which I intended to
have informed you before, but have not had an opportunity."
Emily's cheek again blanched, as she saw all hope in this
quarter cut off.
" Poor Hatchie!" said she, as calmly as her excited feel¬
ings would permit. " What was it, Uncle Jaspar ?"
Jaspar's lip curled a little at the weakness which could
feel for a slave, and he commenced the narrative he had con.
coctedto account for the disappearance of Hatehie.
"About eleven o'clock last night," said he, " as I was
about to retire, I heard a slight noise, which appeared to
proceed from the library. . Knowing that you would not be
there at that hour, I at once suspected that the river-thieves,
who have grown so bold of late, had broken into the house.
I seized my rifle, and when I opened the door the thief sprung
out at the open window. I pursued him down the shell-road
to the river ; upon reaching which I perceived him paddling
a canoe towards the opposite shore. I fired. A splash in
the water followed the discharge. The canoe came ashore a
short distance below, but the man was either killed by the
ball or drowned. In the canoe I found a bundle of valuables,
which had been stolen from the library, — among them your
father's watch."
"But was this Hatchie? Are you quite sure it was
Hatchie?" asked Emily, with much anxiety; for she felt
keenly the loss of her slave-friend.
" My investigations this morning proved it to be so. He
is missing, and the appearance of the thief corresponded to
his size and form. I am now satisfied, though I did not sus¬
pect it at the time, that he was the man upon whom I fired."
"But Hatchie was always honest and faithful," said
Emily.
" So he was, and I must share your surprise," returned
Jaspar.
" There is a possibility that it was not he," suggested Mr.
Faxon.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
57
" There can be no doubt," said Jaspar, sharply. " The
evidence is conclusive."
"No doubt!" repeated Mr. Faxon, with a penetrating
glance into the eye of Jaspar, whose apparent anxiety to
settle the question had roused his first suspicion. " He was,
if 1 mistake not, the only servant of your household who was
on the estate at the time of Miss Dumont's birth?"
" He was,*! believe," replied Jaspar, with a coolness that
belied the anxiety within him.
"Were you alone when you shot him, Mr. Dumont?"
asked the clergyman, sternly.
" I was alone. But allow me to ask, sir, by what right
you question me. I am not your pupil or your servant,"
replied Jaspar, rather warmly, his natural testiness getting
the better of his discretion.
" Pardon me, sir," replied the minister, in a tone of mock
humility. " Do not let my curiosity affront you."
" But it does affront me," said Jaspar, losing his temper
at the sarcastic manner of the other. "Now, allow me to
inquire your business with this girl."
" I came in the discharge of my duty as a Christian min¬
ister, to impart the consolations of religion to this afflicted
child of the church. Of course, my business could not be
with you in that capacity."
" You seem to have departed very widely from your ob¬
ject," replied Jaspar, with a sneer which he always bestowed
upon religious topics.
" True, I have. This last blow upon poor Emily was so
sudden and so severe as to call forth a remark, and even a
question of the validity of the will."
"Indeed!" replied Jaspar, with a nervous start; "you
have the will as her father left it."
" Uncle, you said my father's watch was stolen ? "Was it
not in the iron safe, with the other articles?" asked Emily,
timidly.
" It was," replied Jaspar, coldly.
58
IIATCniE : A TALE OF THJB
" How did he open it1?" interrogated Mr. Faxon, taking up
the suggestion of Einily.
" Did Hatchie return the keys to you last night?" asked
Jaspar of Emily, promptly.
•' He did not," replied she.
" I sent for them to put a note in its place, and sent them
back by him immediately. The fellow stood by when I
opened the safe, and must have witnessed its contents. You
can judge how he opened it now," returned Jaspar, with a
sneer, well pleased that he had foiled their inquiries.
" You say that the canoe in which he was making his
escape came ashore. Where is it now ] No canoe belongs
to the estate."
" There is not," said Jaspar, uneasily.
" Perhaps an examination of it will disclose something of
the robber, if not of the will."
" So I thought this morning, and for this purpose went to
the river, but the canoe was not to be found. I did not
secure it last night, and probably it broke adrift and went
down," replied Jaspar, whose ingenuity never deserted him.
" Very likely," said the minister, with a kind of solemn
sarcasm. " This whole affair seems more like romance than
reality."
" I cannot believe my father was so cruel," cried Emily,
the tears again coming to the relief of her full heart.
" Do you doubt the word of the witnesses, and the mark
and signature of your father?" said Jaspar, fiercely, with the
intention of intimidating her.
" No, no! but, Uncle "
" Call me not uncle again! I am no longer the uncle of
the progeny of my brother's slaves. This cheat has already
been continued too long." *
" I will not call you uncle, but hear me," replied Emily,
frightened at Jaspar's violence.
" I will hear nothing more. You will prepare to leave
for Cincinnati next week. I will no longer endure the pres-
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTII-"WEST.
59
ence of one upon whom my brother's bounty has been wasted.
Have you no gratitude, girl? Remember what you are !"
With these cruel words Jaspar hurried out of the room,
satisfied that he had established his position, and, at least,
silenced Emily. The minister he regarded, as he did all of
his profession, with contempt.
Mr. Faxon and Emily had a long consultation upon the
embarrassing position of her who had so lately been the
envied heiress. The murder of the mulatto, the conduct of
Jaspar, and some other circumstances, afforded ground to
believe that the will was a forgery. If such was the fact,
the minister was compelled to acknowledge that it was a deep-
laid plot. Everything seemed to aid the conspirators ; for
he was satisfied, both from the wording and the chirography
of the will, that Jaspar, whatever part he played, was assisted
by others. There was not the slightest clue by which the
mystery could be unravelled. If there was hope that the
will was a forgery, there was no immediate prospect of prov¬
ing it such.
Under these circumstances, Mr. Faxon felt compelled to
advise obedience to the instructions of the will. The journey
to the North could do no harm, and was, perhaps, advisable,
under the state of feeling which would follow the publicity
of the will. Emily, painful as it was to leave the home of
her childhood at such a time, acquiesced in the decision of
her clerical friend. But there was a feeling in her heart that
she was wronged, — that she should go forth an exile from
her own Bellevue.
On the following week, Jaspar and Emily proceeded to
New Orleans, in the family carriage, to take a steamer for
Cincinnati.
60
HATCI1IE: A TALE OF THE
CHAPTER VI.
" Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, — nor breath, nor motion, -•
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean."
Ancient Mariner.
It was about the time of the events related in the preced¬
ing chapters, at the close of a variable day, in which the storm
and sunshine seemed to struggle for the ascendency, that a
plain-looking, home-made sort of man might have been seen
attempting to effect a safe transit of the steamboat levee at
New Orleans. This personage was no other than Mr. Nathan
Benson, commonly called at home "Uncle Nathan." He
was one of the better class of New England farmers, an old
bachelor, well to do in the world, and was now engaged in
the laudable enterprise of seeing the country.
Uncle Nathan, though he laid no claims to gentility in the
popular signification of the term, was, nevertheless, a gentle¬
man, — one of Nature's noblemen. He was dressed scrupu¬
lously neat in every particular, though a little too rustic to
suit the meridian of fashionable society. He presented a
very respectable figure, in spite of the fact that the prevail¬
ing " mode" had not been consulted in the fashioning of his
garments. His coat was, without doubt, made by some vil¬
lage tailoress, for many of the graces with which the mascu¬
line artist adorns his garments were entirely wanting in
those of our worthy farmer. His hat was two inches too low
in the crown, and two inches too broad in the brim, for the
style ; still it was a good-looking and a well-meaning hat, for
it preserved the owner's phiz from the burning rays of the
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
61
sun much better than the " mode" would have done. His
boots, though round-toed and very wide, were nicely polished
when he commenced the passage of the levee, but were now
encased in a thick coating of yellow clay.
Uncle Nathan was a medium-sized man, and preserved as
much of nature's grace as a man can who has labored for
five-and thirty years at the stubborn soil of New England.
His hair was sandy, and his full, good-natured physiognomy
Avas surrounded by a huge pair of reddish whiskers.
The superficial, worldly-minded man would have deemed
Uncle Nathan's principles rather too ultra for common, every¬
day use; but he, good soul, found no difficulty in applying
them to every action he performed. He was, to use a com¬
mon phrase, a " professor of religion but, less technically,
he was more than a professor, and strove to live out the spirit
of truth and righteousness.
After much difficulty, Uncle Nathan succeeded in effecting
a safe passage to the planking which formed the landing for
the boats. After a glance of vexation at the soiled condition
of his boots (Uncle Nathan was a bachelor !), he commenced
his search for an upward-bound steamer, for he was about to
begin his homeward tour. Two columns of dense black
smoke, the hissing noise of escaping steam, and the splash¬
ing paddles of a boat a short distance down the stream,
attracted his attention, and towards her he directed his steps.
Approaching near enough to read her name, he was not a lit¬
tle surprised to find the boat he had seen advertised to start
a week before. Concluding, in his innocence, that some
accident had detained her, he hastened on board. Entering
the cabin, the scene which was there presented did not exactly
coincide with his ideas of neatness or morality. Uncle
Nathan had read descriptions of the magnificence of Missis¬
sippi steamers ; but the Chalmetta (for this was the name
of the boat) fell far below them. Even the best boats on
the river he considered vastly inferior to the North River and
Sound steamers.
6
62
hatchie: a tale of the
After a hasty survey of the Chalmetta's capability of mak¬
ing him comfortable for a week or more, he concluded to take
passage in her for Cincinnati, and accordingly he sought for
the captain. To his inquiries for that personage a thin,
cadaverous-looking man presented himself, and drawled out a
civil salutation.
" How long afore you start, cap'n V inquired Uncle Nathan.
" We shall get off in about ten minutes," replied Captain
Drawler. " John," continued he, turning to a waiter near
him, with a wink, " tell the pilot to be all ready, and ring
the bell."
"Why, gracious!" said Uncle Nathan, hastily, as the
waiter dodged into the pantry, " 1 shan't have time to get
my trunk down."
" How far up do you go?" inquired Captain Drawler.
" To Cincinnati, if you can carry me about right," replied
Uncle Nathan, with an eye to business.
" Well, as you are going clear through, I will wait a few
minutes for you," suggested the captain.
Uncle Nathan thought him very obliging, and after some
little " dickering" (for he had heard that Western steamboats
were not particularly uniform in their charges), he engaged a
passage, applying to the bargain the trite principle that " no
berth is secured till paid for," which had been reduced to
writing, and occupied a conspicuous place in the cabin.
Without waiting to see the berth he had paid for, he has¬
tened to the hotel for the large hair trunk, which contained
his travelling wardrobe.
Our worthy farmer made it a point never to cause any one
an unnecessary inconvenience; never to read the morning
paper more than half an hour when an impatient crowd was
waiting to see it; and never in his life stopped his five-cattle
team in the middle of a narrow, much-frequented road, to the
annoyance of others. So the captain did not have to wait
more than five minutes beyond the stated time. Depositing
his trunk upon a heap of baggage in the cabin, and turning
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
63
with pious horror from the gaming-tables there, Uncle
Nathan seated himself in an arm-chair on the boiler deck, to
await the departure of the boat, and, in anticipation, to feast
his vision with the wonders of the Father of Waters. He
waited very long and very patiently, for Uncle Nathan con¬
sidered patience a cardinal virtue, and strove manfully
against every feeling of uneasiness. The tongue of the huge
bell over him at intervals banged forth its stunning cadence,
the hissing steam let loose from its pent-up cells, the water
which the wheels sent surging far up upon the levee, all were
indications, to his unsophisticated mind, of a speedy depart¬
ure.
Two hours he waited, with the same exemplary patience;
but still the Chalmetta was a fixture.
Night came, and the music of the bell, and the steam, and
the surging water, ceased. Uncle Nathan, thinking patience
no longer a virtue, cardinal or secondary, hastened to the
captain, with some appearance of indignation on his hon¬
est features. The worthy officer very coolly informed him
that, owing to the non-arrival of the mail, he should be unable
to get off till the next morning.
Uncle Nathan uttered a very peculiar " 0 !" and, seemingly
perfectly satisfied with this explanation, asked to be shown
his berth. The captain consulted the clerk, and the clerk
consulted the berth-book, which conveyed the astounding
intelligence that the berths were all taken !
" All taken !" exclaimed Uncle Nathan, aghast. " Have
n't I paid for one?"
The gentlemanly clerk acknowledged that he had paid for
one, and kindly offered him a mattress on the floor, assuring
him that there would be plenty of berths after the boat got off.
Uncle Nathan did not see how this could be, and was
informed that many berths taken were not claimed.*
* Western steamers seldom start at the time they advertise, but wait
until they are full of freight and passengers. The latter are boarded
HATCHIE: A TALE OF THE
Contenting himself with this explanation, Uncle Nathan
sought the boiler deck again, to obtain the only possible obliv¬
ion for his uneasiness in the society of mongrel gentlemen
and monstrous mosquitos. Those who have been subjected
to these steamboat impositions will readily perceive that
Uncle Nathan was in no very agreeable state of mind. He
was, to a certain extent, home-sick. There was something in
his expectant state, and something in the gloomy aspect of
the low city with its cheerless lights, in the damp atmo¬
sphere and the clouds of mosquitos, to produce a sigh for
home and its joys. If any one had hummed " Sweet Home"
in his ears, it would have brought the tears to his eyes. He
thought of everything connected with his hallowed home : of
the good-natured spinster who was his housekeeper, and of
the ten-acre lots upon his farm ; of the red steers and the
gray mare ; of the shaggy watch-dog and the tabby-cat; of
home in all its minutiae. Its familiar scenes visited him with
a vividness which added ten-fold to their influence. He was
as far abstracted as the mosquitos, which gathered in
swarms upon every tenable spot of his flesh, would permit,
when his meditations were disturbed by the gentleman who
occupied the next chair. He wore the uniform of the army,
and was battling the mosquitos with the smoke of a planta¬
tion cigar, which bore a very striking resemblance to those
rolls of the weed vulgarly denominated " long nines."
This gentleman was Henry Carroll, who had been in wait¬
ing three days for the sailing of the Chalmetta. On his
return from Georgia he had not deemed it prudent to visit
Bellevue. Of the startling events which had transpired
there since his departure he was in entire ignorance.
" No prospect of getting off to-night, is there?" said he to
Uncle Nathan.
on them from the time they take passage, if they wish, — often a week
or ten days. Berths are often engaged by " loafers," who eat and
sleep on board, and grumble at the detention, but who suddenly decamp
when the boat starts.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
65
" Not the least," replied the latter. " The cap'n jaet told
me the mail had n't come, so he should have to wait till
mornin'."
Henry turned to Uncle Nathan rather sharply, to discover
any mischief which might lurk in his expression. Perceiving
that he looked perfectly sincere, and was innocent of any
intention to quiz him, he merely uttered, in the most con¬
temptuous tone, the single word " Humbug !"
" You seem a leetle out o' sorts," returned Uncle Nathan,
piqued at the coldness with which his intelligence was
received.
" Well, sir, I think I have very good reason to be so,"
returned Henry; "for I have lain about this boat, like a
dead dragoon, for three days, in suspense."
" You don't say so !" responded Uncle Nathan, with inter¬
est. " When did they tell you they should start1?"
" The captain said in about ten minutes," answered
Henry, with a smile.
" Good gracious ! he told me the same thing !" said Uncle
Nathan, astonished at the coincidence.
" But I knew he lied, when he said so ; yet the boat
seemed full of passengers, and I did not expect to wait so
long."
" Don't you think they will get started to-morrow ?"
" I cannot venture an opinion, having been so often de¬
ceived. The captain is trying to get a freight of soldiers
on deck. The city is full of them now, returning to their
respective states."
" Then he has taken me in most outrageously," said the
New Englander, with emphasis.
" A very common occurrence, sir," replied Henry, who
now explained to his companion some of the tricks of West¬
ern steamboat captains.
" Is there no remedy?" asked Uncle Nathan, anxiously.
" Certainly ; you can go in the next boat, if you choose. I
6hall take the ' Belle of the West,' which I am pretty well
6*
66
hatchie: a tale of the
assured will sail to-morrow, if this one does not. But I
prefer this, as many of my friends go in her."
" But will they give you back your passage-money again?"
asked the economical Yankee.
" I have not paid it yet," replied Henry, now understand¬
ing the position of his fellow-traveller.
" Then how did you secure a berth 1 The sign in the cabin
says ' No berth secured till paid for.' "
" I see how it is. You have been dealing with these fel¬
lows as though they were honest men." He then explained
that there is no security against imposition for travellers
who pay their passage in advance, in case the boat gets
aground, or the captain pleases to detain them an unreason¬
able time; that the " old stagers" never show their money
till the trip is up; and much more useful information for the
voyager on the Western rivers.
" And I have no berth yet! The fellow promised me one
when we got off," said Uncle Nathan, chopfallen ; for, if any
one is keenly sensitive to an imposition, the Yankee is the
man.
" There you are lame again," replied Heniy. " You may
get one, and you may not. As you have paid your fare, you
had better keep quiet, and to-morrow I will assist you in
securing your rights."
" Thank ye," replied Uncle Nathan, truly grateful for the
kind sympathy of the officer. " I had no sort of idee that
they played such tricks upon travellers."
" Fact, sir ; this New Orleans is said to be a very naughty
place," returned Henry, amused at the simplicity of his
companion.
" True as gospel!" ejaculated Uncle Nathan, fervently.
'' Have you been here long ?"
" Only about ten days ; but I have seen more iniquity in
that time than I supposed the whole airth contained."
Henry smiled at the fervid utterance of his companion.
" You are from the North, I perceive," said he.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
67
" Yes, sir, I am from Brookville, State of Massq^jgjisetts,
which, thank the Lord, is a long way from New Orleans !"
" Still, there are some excellent people here," suggested
Henry, who had known and appreciated Southern kindness
and hospitality.
" Well —yes — I suppose there is ; but their morals and
religion are shockin'. It made my blood run cold, and my hair
stand on eend, to see a company of soldiers marchin' through
the streets last Sabba' day, to the tune of ' Hail Columby
and then to think of balls and theatres on the Lord's day
night, really it's terrible. • I would n't live in sich a place
for all the world !"
"Very different from New England, certainly," replied
Henry, good-naturedly, for it must be confessed he was not
so much shocked at these desecrations.
Uncle Nathan discoursed long and eloquently on Sabbath-
breaking, gambling and intemperance, whicli prevail to such
an extent in the luxurious metropolis of the South, — as long,
at least, as the patience of his new-found military friend
would permit. At his suggestion they retired to a hotel for
the night, for the mosquitos were in undisturbed possession
of the Chalmetta.
68
hatchie: a tale of the
CHAPTER VII.
« And deep the waves beneath them bending glide.
The youth, who seemed to watch a time to sin,
Approached the careless guide, and thrust him in."
Paknell.
" Accoutred as I was, I plunged in."
Selakspeare. .
Early on the following morning, Henry Carroll and Uncle
Nathan were on board the Chalmetta, ready and eager for a
start. But they were doomed to more disappointment.
Nearly all day the bell banged and the steam hissed; the
captain told a hundred lies, but the boat did not budge an
inch from her berth. Still there were certain signs that the
hour of departure could not be far distant. Fresh provisions
and ice in unusually large quantities were received on board
about noon, and these are unfailing prognostics of "agood
time coming."
At about five o'clock in the afternoon, the captain's ten
minutes, with which he had secured an occasional fresh pas¬
senger, seemed actually to have expired. Our two friends on
board, however, had been so often disappointed that they did
not allow a single bright anticipation to enliven their hearts,
till they actually heard the order given " to cast off the fasts
and haul in the planks." And even then their hopes were
instantly dampened by the sudden reversion of the order.
This unexpected change had been produced in the mind of
the captain by seeing a splendid equipage dashing at a
furious pace across the levee, the driver of which had, by
his gestures, made it appear that his vehicle contained
passengers.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
69
The carriage drew up opposite the boat, and Emily Dumont
and Jaspar alighted from it. Picking their way through the
crowd of dealers in cigars, shells, and obscene books, who had
just been ejected from the boat, they were soon on board. A
few moments' delay in getting up the baggage of the new
comers, and the welcome "cast off the fasts and haul in the
plank'' was again heard. The rapid jingling of the engi¬
neer's bell succeeded, and, to the joy of some three hundred
souls on board, she backed out into, the stream and commenced
her voyage. Uncle Nathan breathed freely; the load of anx¬
iety which had oppressed him was removed. But his joy
was short-lived, for Henry Carroll informed him that the
boat was headed down river!
"What in all natur' can be the meanin' of this?" ex
claimed our Northerner, wofully perplexed.
" I cannot tell," replied Henry ; " but I -am much afraid
we shall yet have to stay over Sunday in New Orleans."
''The Lord deliver me!" ejaculated Uncle Nathan. "I
will #go into the swamp back of the city, afore I will look
upon the iniquities of that Sodom again."
" Rather a hard penance ; but let us first see what this
movement will amount to."
At this moment Captain Drawler descended from the
wheel-house, and was immediately besieged by a dozen angry
passengers, who had resolved to lynch him, or leave the
boat, — which he dreaded more, — if satisfaction was not
given.
The stoical captain, with perfect coolness, heard their com¬
plaints and their threats. He waited with commendable
patience till they had vented their indignation, and then
informed them that he only intended to receive a little freight
at the lower city, which would not detain him " ten
minutes."
The captain's assertion, with the exception of the ten min¬
utes, was soon verified by the boat touching at a sort of depot
for naval and military stores. The " freight" which the Chal-
70
HATCIIIE: A TALE OF THE
metta was to take consisted of several long boxes, which
lay near the landing. These boxes contained coffins, in
which were the remains of some sixteen officers, who had
paid the debt of nature in the discharge of their duties in.
Mexico.
Henry Carroll, with a melancholy heart, witnessed the
process of conveying these boxes to the deck of the steamer.
In them was all that remained of many stout hearts, with
whom, side by side, he had marched to glory and victory.
There were the forms with whom he had triumphantly
mounted the battlements at Vera Cruz, and raised the stars
and stripes over the city of Mexico. There, before him, for¬
ever silent, were the dead heroes of Chepultepec and Perote.
Those with whom he had endured toils and hardships of no
common nature, — with whom he had contended against a
treacherous foe, and a more treacherous climate, — were there
encoffined before him. They died in. defence of their country's
honor; and he almost envied them the death which wrote
their names, subject to no future stain, upon the roll of
fame !
The sight of these boxes, and a knowledge of their contents,
also awakened sad reflections in the mind of Uncle Nathan.
But his reflections were of a different character from those
of the soldier. War he regarded as an unnecessary evil, —
one which men had no more right to countenance than they
had the deeds of the midnight assassin. The honor of a na¬
tion were better sacrificed than that the blood of innocent
men should flow in its support. He was a thorough disciple
of the peace movement. "With such views as these, his sym¬
pathies naturally reverted to the dwelling of the departed
hero; to the home rendered desolate by the untimely death
of a father ; to the circle which gathered in tears around the
fire-side, to deplore the loss of an affectionate brother and
son; to the widow and the orphan, whom war's desolating
hand cast into the world to tread alone its dreary path. To
Uncle Nathan victory and defeat were alike the messengers
MISSISSIPPI AND TIIE SOUTH-WEST.
71
of woe. Both were the death-knell of human beings ; both
carried weeping and wailing to women and children.
After the last box of the pile had been conveyed on board,
and preparations were making to cast off, the reflections of
hero and moralist were disturbed by several long, loud vocif¬
erations, in a strong Hibernian accent. They proceeded from
a man,- dressed in the tattered remnants of the blue army
uniform, who was industriously propelling a wheel-barrow
towards the landing, on which was a box of similar descrip¬
tion to those just embarked.
" Hould on!" shouted he; " hould on, will yous, and
take on this bit of ii box 1 "
" Does it belong with the others?" asked the captain.
" To be sure it does," replied Pat. " What the divil else
does it belong to? Arn't it the body of Captain Farrell, long
life to his honor ! going home to see his frinds?"
" Take it aboard," said Captain Drawler to the deck
hands, after examining the direction.
The men lifted the box rather rudely, in a manner which
seemed to hurt poor Pat's feelings.
. " Bad luck to yous ! where were you born, to handle the
body of a dead man the like o' that ?" said he. " Have yous
no rispict for the mim'ry of a haro, that yous trate his
ramains so ongintlemanly ? Hould up your ind, darlint, and
walk aisy wid it!"
" Lively there," cried Captain Drawler, " lively, men !"
"Bad luck to your soul for a blackguard, as ye are!"
shouted Pat. " Where did you lave your pathriotism ?"
The box was by this time on deck, and the captain, to do
him justice, made all haste to proceed on his voyage.
The cases containing the remains of the officers were de¬
posited in the after part of the hold, to which access was had
by means of a hatch near the stern. Pat's peculiar charge
was placed on top of the others, and he maintained a most
vigilant watch over it.
There was now a fair prospect of commencing the voyage,
72
IIATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
and our two passengers were in high spirits. Henry was not
a little fearful that the boat would resume her long-occupied
position at the levee; the very thought of such a calamity
was painful in the extreme. But this fear was not realized;
the Chalmetta gave the levee a wide berth. The Rubicon was
passed; the shades of doubt and anxiety were supplanted
by thfe clear sunshine of a bright prospect.
" We are at last fairly started," said Henry, seating him¬
self by the side of Uncle Nathan, on the boiler deck.
" Thank fortin, we are !" responded the farmer, heartily.
"We are fast getting away from that den of sin."
" And you may preserve your morals yet," said Henry,
with a pleasant laugh.
" My morals are safe enough, thank the Lord !" answered
Uncle Nathan, a little touched at this reflection upon his
firmness ; " but I don't like the place, to say nothing of its
morals."
" Yery likely. But see that Irishman — the fellow who
had charge of the box. He looks poorly enough, as far as
this world's goods are concerned, but happy and full of mirth,
for all that."
" He looks as though he had seen hard times," added
Uncle Nathan, indifferently.
" He does, indeed, like many other of the poor soldiers ;
but, I warrant me, he has a stout will, and an honest heart.
I say, my fm§ fellow," said Henry, addressing Pat, " come
up here."
" Troth I will, then, for I see yous wear the colors of Uncle
Sam," replied the Irishman, making his way to the boiler
deck.
" Long life to your honor !" continued Pat, as he reached
the deck, and making a low bow, as he doffed his slouched
hat, — " but I wish I had the money to trate your honor."
" Which means," replied Henry, " as you have not, I
should treat you ?"
MISSISSIPPI AND TIIE SOUTH-WEST.
73
" That's jist it, your honor. I persave your honor is col-
lege-larnt by the way yous see into my heart."
Henry laughed heartily, and so did Uncle Nathan; though,
to tell the truth, our moralist of the North was sorry to see
his companion hand the man a " bit" to drink with, for he
was a member of the temperance society.
Pat got the " smile," and with a grateful heart returned to
his patron.
" Thank your honor, kindly," said Pat.
"Now tell me, Pat, what regiment you served in," said
Henry.
"In the first Pennsylvanians,— Captain Farrell's com¬
pany."
" Captain Farrell's! I knew him well, — a fine fellow and
a gallant officer ! Many were the tears shed when the vom-
ito carried him off," said Henry, with much feeling. " And
you were one of his company'?"
" Troth, I was, thin. He was every inch a sodger and a»
gintleman."
" And the box you brought on board contains his remains ?"
'' Upon me sowl it contains the body of as good a man as
iver breathed the breath o' life," replied Palfc, very emphati¬
cally.
" Very true. You speak well of your captain, and he de¬
served all he will ever get of praise. Here, Pat, is a dollar
for you ; and if you want anything, come to me."
" Thank your honor," replied Pat, uncovering, with a bow
and a scrape of the foot. "You are as near like poor Cap¬
tain Farrell as one pay is like another. Long life to your
honor, — may you live forever, and then die like a haro !"
" A genuine Irishman !" said Henry, as Pat descended to
the main deck ; " one in whom gratitude and faithfulness are
as strong as life itself!''
" He seems a good sort of man," returned Uncle Nathan,
who had but little appreciation of the Irish heart.
The conversation was interrupted by the ringing of the
7
74
hatches: a' tale of the
supper-bell. An eager multitude rushed to the cabin; but
every seat was already occupied. On a crowded boat on the
Mississippi there is often much selfishness displayed. On
the Chalmetta half an hour before tea-time the most knowing
of the passengers had stationed themselves in a line around
the table, ready to charge upon the plates, like a file of sol¬
diers, the moment the bell rang. Those who did not under¬
stand the necessity of this precaution, on entering the cabin
were much surprised to find every place occupied, and were
comforted with the assurance of a second table.
Uncle Nathan and Henry secured seats which had been
reserved for ladies who did not appear to claim them. Oppo¬
site them were seated Emily and her uncle. She was dressed
in deep mourning, and her countenance was saddened by the
gloom of affliction. Her eyes were reddened by weeping, in
which she had indulged freely in the quiet of her state-room.
By intense effort she had subdued her violent agitation, and a
sad calmness rested upon her face, that belied her feelings.
Henry Carroll, who had not before been^iware of her pres¬
ence, was, as may be supposed, astonished at this meeting.
In her sable dress and melancholy aspect ho read the sad
affliction whiclThad befallen her in the death of her father.
Their eyes met, and exchanged warmer greetings than their
words could have done. A sad smile — the smile of pleas¬
ure— rested upon her beautiful features, as they interchanged
salutations. Her pale cheek was slightly crimsoned with a
tell-tale blush. Her fluttering heart refused to retain its
secret.
Henry expressed his grief at the melancholy event which
had shrouded her in the weeds of mourning, — not in words
alone, but his sorrow for the death of a kind friend was more
eloquently told in his countenance.
Jaspar was chagrined at this meeting, and his awkward
attempts to he civil to Henry were entire failures. This was
an event for which he was not prepared, — the consequences
of which filled him with anxiety. He knew that in Henry
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
75
his wronged niece would have a zealous advocate;—not a
superannuated priest, but a young man whose blood was
warm, and whose soul was full of energy. True, he rea¬
soned, the young officer was powerless as a diplomatist. Ho
as yet knew nothing of the will, or of Emily's degraded posi¬
tion. Henry knew the feelings and character of his brother,
and would be the last one to believe the infamous statement
of the will. What the father might have said to him in
regard to her he knew not. As guilt always does, he imag¬
ined a thousand dangers, and saw with a clear vision the real
ones besides.
At the tea-table there was little conversation beside the
ordinary, courtesies of the occasion. Jaspar said but little.
The guilty never feel any security in the enjoyment of ill-
gotten wealth. The murderer is haunted by the ghost of his
victim. The cries of the widow and the orphan continually
ring in the ear of the avaricious. The fear of disc'overy
haunted Jaspar. Although he saw no probability of his vil-
lany being exposed, the fear of discovery troubled him day
and night. Revengeful and cruel, datmtless and bold, as he
had ever been, the present seemed a crisis in his life. He
had accomplished the climax of villany, and asThe had racked
his powers of invention for the means of attaining his purpose,
he now taxed them for the means of concealing it. The
insecurity of his position was so tedious, that he sought, as
the tempest-tost mariner seeks the quiet haven, to fortify it,
so that he might be at rest from the tormenting doubts which
assailed him. Vain hope! there is no rest for the wicked.
Plots and schemes ran through his mind ; but they afforded
no satisfaction. There was only one event which promised
the least mitigation of his mental sufferings, and this was
the death of his niece. Black as he was at heart, he shrank
from her murder, — not at the deed, but at the terrible con¬
sequences to him which might follow it.
Emily was conducted to the ladies' cabin by Jaspar, who,
by a dogged adherence to her side, seemed determined to
76
HATCHIE: A TALE OF THE
prevent any further conversation between her and Henry.
But the black chambermaid, with an official dignity which is
oftentimes necessary in her position, politely requested him
to retire. Jaspar left, satisfied she would be sale from
intrusion for the present.
Jaspar's disposition to prevent further conversation be¬
tween Emily and Henry was not unperceived by the latter.
He was satisfied that her uncle's close attendance at her side
— so foreign to his former manner — was not without its
purpose. Love, which he had in vain attempted to stifle,
pressed more vigorously at his heart. In her recognition of
him he had read that the sentiment in her heart was not
abated by his absence. Her melancholy aspect had awakened
a new interest in him. Disappointed in obtaining the inter¬
view he desired, he sought the hurricane deck to think of her,
and to cherish the warm feeling in his heart. But what was
his surprise, on reaching it, to find Emily there, and alone!
After the departure of Jaspar she had retired to the gal¬
lery which surrounds the cabin, to enjoy the freshness of the
evening air. The gallery was somewhat crowded, and, with
a lady and ggntleman, she had ascended to the hurricane
deck. Her companions, more gay and happy than she, soon
left her to the gloom and comparative silence which usually
reigns on the upper deck. There were no other passengers
there, and, fearing not the darkness or the loneliness, she
was there venting the sadness which pervaded her heart.
She was about to descend, when she recognized Henry.
Emily related to him the circumstances of her father's
death, and of the reading of the will.
"Impossible!" exclaimed Henry, in astonishment.
"It is strange; but I cannot see any reason to disbelieve
it, except that my father's character assures me it is not so."
" Which would be a very good reason for disbelieving it.
And you are now on your way to Cincinnati ?"
i' I am; and it is the most melancholy journey I ever at-
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
77
tempted. But I ought to be thankful for all that comes, —
if I am a slave, for the freedom that awaits me."
" Good Heavens ! Emily, do not talk so ! You freeze the
Blood in my veins!"
" Nay, I feel somewhat reconciled to the terrible reality
now, for it little matters what I really am, since the will —
true or false — condemns me to the odium of having been
a slave. You will not wish now to own your sister!" said
Emily, with a sad smile.
" Yes, were you ten times a slave, it would not obliterate
the mark of the omniscient God! It could not alter the
beauty of the features or the character. I should be proud
of such a sister, even did she wear the shackles. But you!
No, no, there is no stain upon your birth !"
"And can you regard me as you once did? A—"
" An angel. Yes, truly, as an angel of the higher order."
" Nay, nay, this sounds not like the Henry Carroll of a
month since. You are a flatterer," said Emily, with a smile.
"I did but say what 1 would have gladly said then,"
replied Henry.
The fear of ingratitude to a father no longer chained his
heart to the narrow limit of friendship. He saw her before
him trodden down by misfortune, in the power of subtlety
and villany, and as a child of misfortune his heart even more
strongly inclined to her. He loved her more tenderly than
before.
" Then, when sorrow was a stranger, you were subdued and
distant to your sister," said Emily, her heart fluttering with
the storm of emotion within it.
"I am as I was then; but you were a child of affluence,
and I feared to — to —''
"Why did you fear1?" asked Emily, not waiting to hear
the word Henry was stammering to enunciate. " Had you
no confidence in your sister?"
" I did have confidence in the sister. But I fear it was not
a sister's confidence I sought."
7*
78
HATCIIIE : A TALE OP THE
" Indeed!" said Emily, her emotions destroying the appear¬
ance of surprise the word was intended to convey.
" Emily, I will not now attempt to conceal the feelings
which have torn my heart," said Henry, in a low tone, as he
tiook her willing hand. 4' When I bade you farewell, — alas!
what misfortunes have come since! —when I left you for I
dared not think how long, you know not what violence I did
to the warmest feeling of my heart. You know not what
misery the struggle between that feeling and duty has caused
me. I have striven to conquer it; but Heaven has now put
you in my path, thus bidding me resist no more the impulse
of my heart. I love you, Emily, and I have tried, for your
sake and your father's, to conquer my love. Say, Emily,
may I venture to hope my love is not unvalued?"
A slight pressure of the hand he held was all the answer
he received — was, indeed, all he asked. -
" You forget what I am," murmured Emily.
" I will always forget what this will has said you are.
But Heaven will not let the innocent be wronged, nor the
guilty remain unpunished. A month since, how I wished you
were not the heiress of a millionaire !"
" Why did you wish it ? Did you think that gold would
blacken my heart?"
" No, dear Emily, but it would have been ingratitude
in me to win your love, and thus destroy any other plan
your father might have cherished."
" My father never had an avaricious disposition," replied
Emily, warmly.
"Far from it; but he might have had some views, in
regard to his daughter, with which I might have interfered."
" But you were a rebel against his views, notwithstand¬
ing," said Emily, with a smile, and a deep blush, which the
darkness concealed from Henry.
" I should have been sorry to have heard you say so, then ;
but now, Heaven bless you for the words !" replied Henry,
with a warm pressure of the hand.
</v- ' ~~
llatchie and Henry rescuing Emily from the Mississippi. Page 79.
51; SSI SSI P PI AND THE SOUTII-WEST.
79
" Madam," said Jaspar, who had stealthily approached,
without the knowledge of the lovers, " to your state-room !
Captain Carroll, as the guardian of this lady, I request your
entire withdrawal, in future, from her society."
" A request," replied Henry, proudly, " which I shall
entirely disregard."
" Then, by you will receive the penalty of your obsti¬
nacy!" said Jaspar, in a passion.
" I am not to be intimidated by threats." m
" Do not provoke him, Henry!" said Emily, fearfutltor the
safety of him whom the last hour had doubly endeared to
her.
" Mr. Dumont, her request I will obey," and Carroll
walked forward.
He paused by the side of the wheel-house, to hear the report
of the leadsman, who was sounding the depth of water, in
obedience to the command of the pilot, expressed in a single
clang of the heavy bell. Mechanically he had stopped, and
with no interest in the matter he listened to the monotonous
reply, " Quarter less three," &c. He was about to descend
to the boiler deck, when a shrill shriek startled him from his.
revery. There was no mistaking the sound of that voice !
"Without an instant's hesitation, he called to the pilot to stop
the boat, and, with a few bounds, was by the side of Jaspar,
who was calling lustily for help. Henry, careless of his own
safety, slid down to the gallery abaft the ladies' cabin, and
then sprang to the single pole upon which was suspended the
small boat. Before he could unloose the tackle, and lower
himself down, he heaid a splash, and saw a man swimming
towards the spot where Emily had disappeared. Henry plied
a single oar in the stern of the boat, and reached the place in
season to take in Ahe noble fellow who had preceded him,
together with his lifeless burden, as he rose. The steamer
backed down, and in a few moments more the party was
safely on board again.
80
hatchie: a tale of the
11 Where is the man who saved her?" said the disappointed
Jaspar, after assisting Emily to her state-room.
Emily's fall had not been accidental, as the reader will at
once infer. Jaspar's passion, and the danger which he
thought the young officer's presence menaced, had prompted
him to an act which was not attended with his usual pru¬
dence, and the failure was likely to place him in a more
uncomfortable position than his former one. "With the
instinct of deception, he immediately offered a liberal
reward to the man who had rescued her.
" Where is he 1 Who is he V' shouted Jaspar, eagerly.
'£ Here!'' cried a voice from the crowd.
Jaspar started and turned pale, for the voice was a familiar
one.
" Where is he?" called Jaspar again, concluding that he
must have mistaken the voice.
" Here !" again came forth from the crowd, and Hatchie
stepped forward.
" Hell!" exclaimed Jaspar, staggering back as he recog¬
nized the man whom he supposed his rifle-ball had sent to
furnish food for the fishes. But he recovered his courage
instantly, feeling the danger of betraying himself.
" Here is the reward," stammered he, holding out the
money.
"Never!" said Hatchie; and, before the crowd could
clearly understand the nature of the case, he had vanished
behind a heap of freight.
At Jaspar's suggestion, a diligent search was made in
every part of the boat, but the mulatto was nowhere to be
found. Jaspar, as usual, invented a story to account for the
strangeness of the incident which had occurred. A liberal
reward offered by him failed to produce the preserver of
Emily.
mississippi and the south-west.
81
CHAPTER VIII.
" 'T is much he dares ;
And to that dauntless temper of his mind
He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valor
To act in safety." Siiakspeare.
Although the general condition of the negro slaves at the
South is the most degraded in which humanity can exist,
there are some exceptions to the rule ; and among them may
well be placed the body-servant of Colonel Dumont, Hatchie,
whose sudden and mysterious reappearance upon the deck of
the Chalmetta must be accounted for.
With an intelligence far superior to his condition, Hatchie
discovered the villany that lurked in the eye of Jaspar, on the
night of the forgery of the will. As we have before said, no
one better than he knew the character of Jaspar; no one
better than he knew of what villany he was capable. When
he had been sent for the keys, an undefined sense of duty
prompted him to watch, and, if possible, to prevent the mis¬
chief which he foresaw was gathering. When ordered to
retire, he had pretended to obey; but he placed himself
beneath the window through which De. Guy had entered, a
small crack of which had been accidentally left open. In
this position he saw Jaspar take out the packet which he
knew contained the will. He heard De Guy read the ficti¬
tious will, and at once discerned enough of the plot to com¬
prehend the danger that hovered over his mistress. He
understood that the real will was to be destroyed ; and his
82
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
first impulse was to save it, which he had adroitly accom¬
plished as before related.
WhenHatchie reached the open air, he was sensible of the
dangerous position in which his bold act had placed him. So
sudden and unpremeditated had been his action that no
thought of future consequences had accompanied it. But,
undismayed, he ran at his fleetest speed towards the river.
He heard the footsteps of his pursuers, and every step he
advanced he expected to receive the bullet of Jaspar. Trust¬
ing for safety to the darkness of the night, he quickened his
speed, till he gained the steep bank of the river. Leaping
into the canoe which he discovered in his flight, he pushed
out into the stream, and was several rods advanced towards
the opposite shore when his pursuers reached the bank.
Plying the canoe with all the strength and skill of which
he was master, his progress was suddenly interrupted by a
log, upon which liis frail bark struck with much violence.
The collision checked his progress, and swung the canoe
round by the side of the log. Satisfied that Jaspar would
fire as soon as he saw the canoe, his ready ingenuity sup¬
plied him with the means of avoiding the ball, and of escap¬
ing further pursuit. Taking the will in his mouth, he grasped
the canoe with one hand, and paddled silently with the
other and with his feet. He had turned the canoe adrift,
and Jaspar, without waiting to examine it, had fired.
Hatchie then jumped up in the water, and produced the
splash which had deceived his pursuers.
With much difficulty the mulatto had propelled the log
beyond the reach of the current into comparatively still
water. Here he remained quietly on the log, using only suf¬
ficient exertion to avoid the current, until he was satisfied
that Jaspar and his companion had departed from the bank.
He then returned to the shore, using the greatest precaution
to avoid his enemies ; but all was still.
Immediate danger being at an end, he bethought him of
securing his future safety, — a matter of extreme difficulty
MISSISSIPPI AND TIIE SOUTH-WEST.
83
for one in his position. He was satisfied that Jaspar would
invent some story to account for his disappearance"; and just
as well satisfied that he would shoot him, if he again showed
himself on the plantation. He congratulated himself on the
happy scheme he had adopted to deceive Jaspar; for he had
now a reasonable security from being advertised and pur¬
sued as a runaway slave.
After much reflection, he concluded his wisest plan would
be to seek safety in New Orleans, where, in the crowd, he
might escape recognition. The cane-brake and the cotton-
grove would not protect him. He might be seen, and the
blood-hound and the rifle bring him in a prisoner, and even
Miss Emily would now be unable to save him from the pen¬
alty. How could he live in New Orleans, or how escape from
there ? He was without money, and he had sense enough to
know that money is a desideratum, especially to the traveller.
Of this useful commodity, however, he had a supply in the
mansion house, which he had saved from the presents made
him by Colonel Dumont and his guests. Recognizing the
necessity of obtaining it, as well as some more clothing, he
resolved to enter the house and procure them, after the light
he saw in the library-window was removed.
While waiting, he pondered more fully his position. What
should be his future conduct in regard to the will ? He car¬
ried with him, he felt, the future destiny of his gentle, much-
loved mistress. He felt that on his action during the next
hour depended the happiness for a lifetime of one whom he
had been taught to revere, and whose gentleness and beauty
had almost lured him to worship. If the morrow's sun found
him in the vicinity of the estate, he would probably fall a
victim to Jaspar's policy. What should he do with the will?
Should he show himself at the hour appointed for the read¬
ing of it 1 He might fall into Jaspar's hands in the attempt,
the precious document be wrested from him, and thus all his
exertions be in vain. Without the will itself he could do
nothing, — his word or his evidence in court would be of no
84
hatchie: a tale of the
avail. No one would believe the former against Jaspar, and
the latter was inadmissible.
Should he carry it to Mr. Faxon, or even to Miss Emily
herself, Jaspar might obtain possession of it by some means..
His deliberations could suggest no method by which imme¬
diate justice could be done his mistress ; and the conclusion
of his reflections was, that he must place himself in a safe
position before he attempted to expose the villany of others.
Ilis mistress, he knew by the will which he had heard De
Guy read, was to be conveyed to Cincinnati. He must go to
Cincinnati — but liow ? This was a hard question for the
faithful Hatchie to answer; but answer it he must. He
would ga to New Orleans, and there form his plan.
After waiting till the lights were extinguished in the
library, he entered the house, and obtained his money and
clothing.
By the exercise of much caution, he reached New Orleans in
safety, where, by the disbursement of a small sum of money,
he obtained a secure retreat in the house of a free man, with
whom he had formerly been acquainted. His object was now
to obtain a passage to Cincinnati,—a matter not easy to
accomplish, as the law against conveying blacks, unprovided
with the necessary permit, was very stringent. He could not
hope, with his limited means, to offer an acceptable bribe for
this service. To attain his object, therefore, he must resort
to stratagem, for the chances of obtaining a passage by direct
means were too remote and too perilous to be hoped for.
But accident soon afforded him the means of attaining his
end.
The negro with whom he had obtained a shelter kept a
small shop, and by the grace of the authorities and his neigh¬
bors was permitted to sell liquor, tobacco and cigars, to the
steamboat cooks, stewards, sailors, and the soldiers who
thronged the city on their return from Mexico. In the rear
of this shop, and connected with it, was a small room in
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
85
•which the negro lived. This room afforded a safe retreat,
and in it Hatchie had his hiding-place.
One day a little knot of men, in the faded, dilapidated
garments of the army, entered the tap-room of Hatchie's pro¬
tector. They drank deeply, and, as was their constant prac¬
tice, they seated themselves at the broken table, and com¬
menced gambling with the negro's dirty cards for the few
dollars which remained in their possession. This amusement
terminated, as such amusements frequently do, in a fight,
in which one of the number seemed to be singled out as an
object of vengeance for the others. This individual was an
Irishman ; and, for a time, he held way manfully against his
assailants. But, at last, in spite of the exertions of the
" proprietor" to protect him, he was likely to get the worst
of it, when Hatchie, no longer able to control his indignation
at the unfairness displayed in the encounter, suddenly inter¬
fered in favor of the now fallen man. His enormous strength
and skill soon cleared the room of the rioters. Hatchie drew
the defeated Irishman into his hiding-place, and locked the
door. This man was Pat Fegan, who has been introduced to
the reader.
Pat was filled with gratitude to his protector, and swore
he would stick by him till his dying day, if he was a
" naiger." A mutual friendship was thus established, which
resulted in the disclosure of their future prospects. The fact
that both were seeking the same destination seemed to
strengthen the bond thus formed. Hatchie, shrewd by
nature, read the true heart of the Irishman. He felt that he
could trust him with his life; but his ability was quite
another thing.
Pat Fegan was without means, and readily accepted the
hospitality which Hatchie offered to pay for. In the course
of the long conversations with which the two friends beguiled
the weary day, Pat related his adventures in Mexico, at the
close of which he casually mentioned that the remains of
several officers, who died there, were to be conveyed up the
. 8
86
HATCHIE: A TALE OF THE
river. Hatchie's curiosity prompted many inquiries, which
drew from the talkative Hibernian a full description of the
boxes that contained the coffins, and many particulars relative
to the transportation of them.
Pat's description of the boxes suggested to Hatchie the
means of getting to Cincinnati.
" Could you get me a box like those which contain these
coffins'?" asked he.
" Faix, I can, thin, if I only had the matther of two
or three dollars. But what the divil makes yous ax sich a
question?"
" I will give you ten dollars, and pay your passage to Cin¬
cinnati besides, if you will get me the box," said Hatchie,
disregarding Pat's query.
" By me sowl, I '11 get yous the box, and ax yous only the
price meself pays for't," replied Pat, touched at the idea of
a reward, which between friends seemed base even to his
rude mind.
" And I shall want your help, too."
"Yous may well count on that, for whin did a Fegan
desart his frind? But tell me, honey, what yous mane to do
wid it."
" I intend to get to Cincinnati in it."
"Is it in the box?" exclaimed Pat, astonished beyond
measure. " Sure you will smodther !"
" But, my friend, I want you to look out for that, and give
me something to eat and drink. You can pretend that the
box contains the body of your captain, who, you said, died in
Mexico.''
" Arrah, me darlint, I see it all!" and Pat shook his sides
with laughter at the idea of the mulatto's "travelling-car¬
riage," as he styled it.
Pat had procured the box, and conveyed it to Hatchie's asy¬
lum. It was sufficiently large to furnish quite a roomy
apartment. The covering consisted of short boards, matched,
and screwed on crossways. To facilitate the introduction of
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
87
food and air, and to afford the means of a speedy exit in case
of need, he had taken off half these boards, and fastened
them together with cleats on the inner side. The ends of
the screws were then filed off, so that this portion of the lid
exactly corresponded with the other portion. A number of
hooks were then procured, so as to fasten it upon the inner
side. By this arrangement, the occupant of the box would
not be dependent upon exterior aid for egress. When once
on board the steamer, lie expected he should be able to leave
his hiding-place in the night, and perhaps at other times.
Upon the outside the box was similar to the others, and
was duly marked and consigned.
Hatchie's quarters were near the depot from which the cof¬
fins were to be shipped, and Pat, watching his time, had
wheeled his own charge down in season to be shipped with
the others. In the haste of embarking, the clerk had not
noticed that one box more had been brought on board than
his manifest indicated.
Hatchie was not aware that Emily and her uncle were pas¬
sengers on the same boat till the moment of the accident.
He had before released himself from his prison-box, and was
enjoying the fresh air, which the closeness of his box rendered
particularly desirable, when he heard the scream of his
mistress. Her voice was familiar, and even in the scream
of terror he recognized it. It needed not a second thought
to convince him of his duty. He had saved her Jife, and, for¬
getful of the danger of thus exposing his person, he stood by
and saw her conveyed to her state-room. He heard Jaspar
call for her deliverer, and offer a reward. This he knew, if
no one else did, was gross hypocrisy, and in the indignation
of his honest heart he had stepped forward to confront him.
The sight of Jaspar, and the thought of his own responsibil¬
ity, recalled his prudence ; and.he hastened to retrieve his
error by escaping to his hiding-place in the box, in which no
one thought of searching for a living man.
In the excitement and exertion attendant upon the incident,
88
hatchie: a tale of the
Henry Carroll had not recognized Hatchie ; and, while Jaspar
inquired for her deliverer, he had been seeking the surgeon.
Henry thought of nothing but her safety.
Hatchie at once knew the voice of Henry, but, knowing
nothing of the relation between him and his mistress, he
feared to trust him with his secret.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
89
CHAPTEK IX.
" But as thou art a man
Whom I have picked and chosen from the world,
Swear that thou wilt be true to what I utter ;
And when I've told thee that which only gods,
And men like gods, are privy to, then swear
No chance, or change, shall wrest it from thy bosom.""
Otway.
Emily Dumont, while yet insensible, was conveyed to her
state-room, where, by the assiduous attention of the steward¬
ess and the lady passengers, she was soon restored to con¬
sciousness. An army surgeon, who was fortunately on board,
prescribed a course of treatment which prevented all evil
consequences, so that on the following morning she appeared
at breakfast as well as usual bodily, though the terrible fact
that her uncle had attempted her life so agitated her that
sleep had been a stranger to her eyelids. By whom she had
been rescued was yet unknown to her.
Henry Carroll again took his place opposite her at the
morning meal, — a place he had secured by the exercise of
a full hour's patience in occupying it. At the first conven¬
ient opportunity, he congratulated her upon her safe recovery,
and for the first time she heard the particulars of her rescue.
Jaspar, with an ill grace, expressed his obligations to him,
though at the same time he wished him at the bottom of the
river.
Henry failed not to notice the blush which came to her
cheek, as she modestly but fervently expressed her gratitude
for the noble service he had rendered her. Although her
accepted lover, there had been but little intercourse of a ten-
8*
90
HATCHIE: A TALE OF THE
der nature between them, —not enough to prevent her heart
from fluttering when he spoke, and sending its warm blood
to her cheek.
With what indescribable pleasure does the lover recognize
the blush which a word or an act of his own calls to the face
of his new-found love! Like the breaking clouds which
disclose to the worn mariner the faint outline of the distant
land, he hails it as the omen of future bliss! It is part of
the mystical language of the heart. It is part of the mechan¬
ism of the affections, which the will cannot conceal. The
gentle look, the warm pressure of the hand, the eloquent
language of love, which modesty at first forbids, are supplied
by the timid, uncalled, beautiful blush! Prudence and deli¬
cacy cannot chain it in the veins.
Henry read in her blush the warm current of pure love
which flowed from her heart. It told him how willingly her
gratitude coalesced with her love. Their position at table did
not afford the opportunity of interchanging those feelings of
the heart which each felt swelling within. The present, so
fjill of joy and hope, it seemed cruel to surround with circum¬
stances which forbade them to enjoy it. A crowded steamer
is the most uncomfortable place in the world for a pair of
lovers, and Henry and Emily felt the inconvenience of it.
But, if the position of the lovers was uncomfortable, Jas-
par's was painful. They had the consolation of loving and
being loved ; but he was now writhing under the weight of
an additional torture. The appearance of Hatchie was the
knell of all his hopes, the precursor of ruin. To him it was
a mystery, and all his endeavors to solve it were unavailing.
About noon the Chalmetta arrived at Baton Rouge, where,
according to previous arrangement, and much to the joy of
the perplexed uncle, De Guy came on board. Jaspar greeted
him with more than usual courtesy, and felt, to as great a
degree as gui]t cab. feel it, a relief from the embarrassments
which surrounded him. The first step of the red-faced
attorney, on finding no state-room unoccupied, was to dis-
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
91
possess two flat-boatmen of theirs, by the payment of a round
bonus. Jaspar thought this a rather extravagant move for one
apparently so parsimonious; but his mind was too deeply
engrossed with the difficulties which environed him to com¬
ment on extraneous subjects.
To this state-room Jaspar and his confidant retired, to
consider the condition of their operations; and while they
deliberate we will return to another character.
Uncle Nathan was in the full enjoyment of all the satis-,
faction which seeing the world affords to the observing man.
He gazed with unceasing wonder upon the Father of Waters,
on whose mighty bosom he was borne towards the loved
scenes of home. He was edified and amused with the ever-
varying succession of objects which presented themselves, as
the Chalmetta progressed. Flat-boats and steamers, planta¬
tions and cotton-wood groves, islands and cut-offs, were all
objects of interest. And, when he was tired of these, " Bun-
yan's Pilgrim's Progress," which was his constant travelling
companion, afforded him all the excitement his contented
disposition required. The time promised to be easily disposed
of, even if the passage should be unusually prolonged.
Besides, the number and variety of dispositions on board
afforded him some study, and some instruction. There were
men of all grades of society, and all degrees of moral worth,
— beginning, of course, at a very moderate standard, and
descending to the vilest of the vile, which last were in a large
majority. There were tipplers, and gamblers, and profane
swearers, in abundance ; and Uncle Nathan felt, at the bottom
of his philanthropic heart, a desire to lead them from their
sins. Not that he was officious and meddlesome, for he
believed in " a time for everything." In his modest, inoffen¬
sive way, no doubt, he sowed the seeds of future reformation
in some wayward heart.
Pat Fegan proved an apt disciple, and already had Uncle
Nathan given him the first lesson in the form of a temper¬
ance lecture, which probably had its effect, as he left the
92
hatchte: a tale of the
boiler deck without the dram for which he was supposed to
have come up.
" Now, Partrick," said Uncle Nathan, on the evening after
Emily's rescue, " rum never did any one any good."
" 'Pon my soul it did, thin, — it makes me happy whin
sorra thing else in the wide world will comfort me," replied
Pat.
" But that an't nateral happiness ; it an't the sort that
comes of doin' good to your feller-creturs."
" It sinds throuble away — what else is happiness V
" But how do you feel arterwards ? That's the pint."
" Arrah ! bad enough, sure. Yous have the betther of me
there."
" Then leave it off, Partrick," responded Uncle Nathan,
drawing the pledge from his pocket. . " Sign the pledge, and
you are safe."
But we need not follow Uncle Nathan in his reforma¬
tory lucubrations. Pat signed the pledge ; but whether he
had an appreciating sense of the restraint he imposed upon
his appetite we cannot say. Uncle Nathan thought him
saved from his cups, and rejoiced accordingly. Perhaps, if he
had looked a little closer, he might have suspected an inter¬
ested motive on the part of Pat. He saw none, and, feeling
secure in the present victory, he admonished his disciple " to
stick to it as long as he lived."
" 'Pon me word, I will, thin," replied Pat. " I see yous
are a gintleman, if yous don't look jist like one. Now, do you
see, Mr. Binson, you are jist the man I am looking for, this
last six hours."
"Why so(> Partrick — what do you mean?" said Uncle
Nathan, mystified by the sudden change of manner in the
new convert.
" Hould aisy a bit, for I'd like to hould a private corre¬
spondence wid yous. Will ye jist come to the hurricane deck,
till I tells yous all about it V
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
93
" Sartain," replied Uncle Nathan, his curiosity fully
excited.
As soon as they reached a deserted portion of the prome¬
nade deck, Pat, after satisfying himself there were no lis¬
teners near, commenced, with an air of grave importance, his
story.
" Whisht now, and draw near," said he. " Can youskeep
a sacret ?"
" "Well, I think I could, if it was an honest one."
" Faix, thin, it is an honest one. Sure.yous come from
the North, and don't belave in keeping the naigers in
bondage?"
" To be sure not."
" Well, then, would yous help a naiger out of throuble, if
yous could as well as not ?"
" I sartainly wish 'em well; but the Scripture says ' Honor
the king,' which means nothin'more nor less than ' obey the
laws.' Arter all, though, perhaps we ought not to mind
wicked laws."
" Musha bad luck to your raysoning ! Sure I'm no doc-
thor, to blarney over the matther. Will yous kape the sa¬
cret?" asked Pat, a little excited, and somewhat disappointed
to find his auditor lukewarm in " the cause."
" Sartain ; tell your story, and, if I can't do you any good,
I won't do you any harm."
" That's the mon for me !" replied Pat, slapping Uncle
Nathan familiarly on the back. " Now, do you see, there's a
naiger on this boat, that wants a frind."
" A friend !" said Uncle Nathan, with some doubt, as he
reflected on the conflict between the claims of humanity and
the stringent laws of the slave states.
" To be sure, a frind! " replied Pat, with emphasis.
<< I will befriend him," replied Uncle Nathan, his natural
inclination triumphing over his fear of the law.
"Spoken like a Christian! Sure, that's jist what St.
Patrick would say, if the saint — long life to him ! —were
94
HATC'HIE : A TALE OF THE
here," replied Pat, rejoicing that the difficulty was over¬
come.
" Now, dhraw near till I tells yous all about it; and, if
iver you mintion a word of it, may your sowl never lave pur¬
gatory till it is burnt to a cindther! Now, do you mind,
there's a naiger concayled in the hould of the boat, that
wants to correspond with a faymale in the cabin."
" But he will expose himself, and she may deliver him
up." ^
" Divil a bit! Did n't he save her from dhrowning, last
night?" exclaimed Pat, warmly, for this act of Hatchie
excited all his admiration.
" Good gracious! you don't say so!" and Uncle Nathan
understood the mystery of the previous night.
" Sorra a word o' lie in it."
" But where in natur is the feller?" asked the wonder-
struck Yankee, his curiosity getting the better of every other
consideration.
" Whisht, now," whispered Pat; " he is in one of those
boxes, with the dead men ! Do yous mind ?"
" Good gracious ! how you talk ! In a coffin?"
" Divil a coffin at all. Sure as nate a bit of a box as iver
held a Christian."
" But why does he wish to speak with the lady?"
" Sorra know I know," replied Pat, to whom Hatchie had
communicated no more than was necessary.
" Does he wish to see her in person ?"
" Not a bit of it. Now, do you mind, I saw you speaking
to the lady, and I tould him of it. Then the naiger axed me
could he trust yous. I tould him yes ; and he tould me to
bring yous down to him, and that's the whole of it. Now,
will yous go down the night and spake to him ?"
Uncle Nathan reflected a little ; for, though no craven, he
was very prudent, and had no romance in his composition.
After deliberating some time, much to the detriment of Pat'a
patience, he replied in the affirmative.
MISSISSIPPI AND TUB SOUTH-WEST.
95
Pat then instructed him in relation to certain precautions
to be observed in order to avoid notice, and left him to pon¬
der the strangeness of the adventure. He had well consid¬
ered his course, and, having decided upon it, he was earnest
in pursuing it. He had chosen, he felt, a dangerous, but his
conscience assured him a right path, and nothing could now
deter him from proceeding in it. He was not fickle, and
invoked many ^blessing on the effort he might make for the
salvation of the poor negro. True, his prudence had magni¬
fied the undertaking, which was a trivial affair, into a great
adventure. Imagination often makes bold men.
96
hatchie: a tale of the
CHAPTER X.
" jDuke. — How's this 1
The treason's
Already at the doors."
Venice Preserved.
" Amelia. — I thought I heard a step.
Charles. — 'T is your tyrant coming."
Proctor.
Jaspar and De Guy were for a long time closeted in the
state-room. On their reappearance Jaspar felt much easier.
The silky-toned attorney had used a variety of arguments to
convince him that their schemes were working excellently
well, and that everything, notwithstanding the resurrection
of the negro, would terminate to his entire satisfaction.
The process of " wooding-up" on a Mississippi steamer,
inasmuch as it affords the passengers an opportunity to
exercise their locomotive powers on shore, is regarded as an
interesting incident. This was particularly true on board the
Chalmetta, for she was crowded to nearly double her comple¬
ment of cabin-passengers, and the space usually devoted to
exercise was too much crowded to render it very pleasant.
When, therefore, the Chalmetta touched at a wood-yard,
after leaving Baton Rouge, the passengers hurried on shore,
to enjoy the novelty of an unconfined promenade. De Guy,
on pretence of further private conversation, induced Jaspar to
forsake his post as sentinel over Emily, and join him in a
walk. For half an hour the attorney in his silky tones
regaled the ears of Jaspar with various strange schemes,
until the bell of the steamer announced her near departure.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
97
Even then De Guy seemed in no haste, and assured his com¬
panion the boal; would not start without them. But the sec¬
ond bell admonished them that the steamer was already
getting under way. The passengers were all on board, and,
as they heard in the distance the tinkling of the engineer's
bell, -they started at a run to reach her. By some accident,
De Guy's foot got between Jaspar's legs, and he fell. The
attorney stooped, as if to assist him up, but, in reality,
struck the fallen man a blow, which rendered him insensible.
De Guy hurried towards the boat, leaving the watchful uncle
to shift for himself. He reached the landing in season to
jump upon the stern of the boat as it swung in shore. Push¬
ing through the crowd which had gathered to witness his
exploit of getting on board, he retreated to his state-room,
and locked the door.
Jaspar was not immediately missed by Emily, and his
absence was too desirable to be the cause of any solicitude.
As the tea-hour approached, and the ladies were requested to
take their places at table, she was very much surprised to
see Mr. Maocwell present himself as her escort to the table.
Since the unhappy disclosure of his love in the office, she
had regarded him with pity, rather than with the contempt
he merited. She could not but feel that he loved her.
His eloquent language and forlorn aspect had not been in
vain, for they had saved him from her utter contempt. A
true woman cannot be conscious of possessing a portion
of. the love, even of a dissolute man, without feeling some
respect for him. To love truly and devotedly is an element of
the angelic character; and such love will purify and ennoble
even the grossest of human beings. Emily unconsciously
arrived at this conclusion; and, discerning some indications of
pure love towards her in his gross and earthly mind, she felt
that he was entitled to her sympathy. She cherished no
affection for him; all that her gentle heart could contain was
bestowed upon another. A suspicion had more than once
entered her mind that Maxwell was, in some manner, con-
9
98
hatciiie: a tale of the
nected with the foul plot which had drawn her into its toils.
But, she reasoned, if he loved her, he would, not injure her,
— no, not. even in revenge for her refusal. She could not, and
her beautiful nature would not allow her to believe it, even
of a man as gross as her better judgment told her Maxwell
was.
To her inquiry for her uncle, Maxwell informed her that
he had some conversation with him since he came on board
at Baton Rouge, and that he had requested him to attend her
at tea. He had not seen him since, but supposed he was
forward, or in his state-room.
Emily readily accepted his arm, for anything was a relief
from the hateful presence of Jaspar. Maxwell used all the
art whifch politeness could lend to render himself agreeable.
His ready wit, and the adaptation of his conversation to the
unhappy circumstances of her position, in some measure dis¬
pelled the misery of the hour. Besides, it was plain the
attorney did not believe the statement of the will; for a
high-born Southern gentleman would never associate in public
with a slave girl. She had, too, a presentiment that he came
on some errand to her. Perhaps the good minister, Mr.
Faxon, had sent him with good news to her. Perhaps
through him the will had been proved false. Such reflections
as these imparted more interest to his society than she would
otherwise have felt.
During the tea-hour his assiduous courtesy left scarcely a
particular in which Henry Carroll, who, as before, occupied
a seat opposite to him, could render himself of use. He
could hardly address a word to her without interrupting her
companion. An introduction, which had before placed the
young captain and the attorney on speaking terms, did not
prevent the latter from mixing excessively good with excess¬
ively bad breeding. He was apparently unwilling that
Henry should be heard by Emily. Maxwell had some idea
of the relation which subsisted between his two companions ;
but, of course, knew nothing of the previous night's interview}
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
99
which had indissolubly bound their hearts together. He
seemed determined to keep their sympathies as far apart as
possible.
Henry Carroll wondered at the absence of Jaspar and at
the sudden appearance of Maxwell, for he had not before
seen .him. His attentions to her he loved created no jeal¬
ousy. Emily had satisfactorily acknowledged her affection
for him, and to believe her pure nature, especially under the
present circumstances, susceptible of coquetry, were infidelity.
A single look beaming with love had assured him that his
star was still in the ascendant.
At the conclusion, Maxwell, with the same elegant courtesy,
conducted her back to the ladies' cabin. Emily repeated her
acknowledgments for the attentions, and was about to enter
her state-room, when he addressed her.
" May I beg the favor of a few moments' private conversa¬
tion, Miss Dumonf?" said he, in a more business-like manner
than that he had assumed at the tea-table.
Emily hesitated. Her supposition concerning his mission
was partly verified in this request; but the remembrance of
her last interview with him at his office in New Orleans came
like a cloud over the bright sky of her hopes. Curiosity and
a painful interest prompted her to risk the interview. If this
interview was likely to be of an unpleasant nature, she could
retire; and, if the worst she apprehended was likely to be
realized, she knew that Henry Carroll hovered near her, at all
times, like a guardian angel.
" In your legal capacity, I presume?" said she, with a smile
and a crimson face.
" Certainly, certainly," replied Maxwell, not a little dis¬
concerted to discover this troublesome caution.
" Will you take a seat, then 1 I think no one will feel an
interest in our conversation beside ourselves."
Excuse me," replied Maxwell, in his blandest tones, " a
few words of our conversation overheard might expose per¬
sons we wish not to injure."
100
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
" Perhaps it had better be deferred to a more convenient
opportunity."
" Delays are dangerous, Miss Dumont. Justice to your¬
self requires that my communication be made at once. Allow
me to attend you to the promenade deck, where we shall be
secure from interruption."
Emily, with many doubts, accepted his arm, and they
proceeded to the promenade deck.
" Now, Mr. Maxwell," said Emily, in a very serious tone,
for she wished to awe the profligate into the most business¬
like reserve, "be as speedy as possible, for I am fearful of
the effects of the night-air upon my health."
Maxwell was disconcerted at this change in the manner of
his companion, and vexed to account for it. The remem¬
brance of past events came to his aid, but afforded no
satisfactory solution. He could not see why Emily should
studiously reject his overtures. His experience of female
society had been of the most flattering character. He was
perfectly aware of his popularity. His personal attractions
always had been a strong recommendation, and he could not
see why they should not be in this instance. His family was
good, his fortune supposed to be respectable, — everybody
did not know the inroads he had made upon it; his business
was a pastime — the gate of honor and fame. It was true
his character was dissolute, but she did not know this.
Unfortunately for him and his prospects, she did know it,
and the fact had all the weight which a virtuous mind
attaches to such a circumstance.
" I have been fortunate enough to obtain some information
which may be of great value to you, or I should not thus
have intruded upon you," said Maxwell, with the air of a
man upon whom suspicion rested unjustly.
"Indeed, Mr. Maxwell!" replied Emily, forgetting both
the night-air and the character of the man who stood beside
her ; " pray, tell me all at once!"
" Pardon me," replied he, cpldly, " as the story is some-
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
101
what lengthy, perhaps it might be deferred till to-morrow, if
your health is likely to suffer from exposure at this hour.''
Emily was confused; but she could not stoop to the weak¬
ness of deception to smooth over her former coldness. She
was burning with impatience to be restored, even in imagina¬
tion, to the position from which she had been degraded by
the cruel will. Her companion's language was not calculated
to remove her doubts of his intentions. If the communica¬
tion was of a business character, why should he be offended
at her haste to terminate the interview? This reflection
strengthened her resolution not to conciliate him. She would
trust to Providence and the justice of her cause, rather than
make an intimate of a man whom she despised.
" Miss Dumont," said Maxwell, growing desperate at the
lady's silence, " perhaps I have offended in some manner.
If I have, it was unintentional, and I trust you will forgive
me."
" 0, no, sir, not at all!" exclaimed Emily, mollified, in
spite of herself, by the humility of the attorney. " There
is no offence, and no apology is necessary."
"Iam greatly relieved by this assurance, and, with your
leave, will proceed with my narrative."
Maxwell now entered into a relation of the history of the
will, but studiously avoided imparting a single fact with
which she was not already acquainted. All this he had related
with a lawyer's skill, to awaken her curiosity and interest,
and to remove by distance any unpleasant suspicions which
might have been awakened in her mind in regard to his
motives.
To all he said Emily listened with profound attention,
momentarily expecting the development of the foul plot. But
thus far Jaspar Dumont is as pure as an angel, — nothing is
disclosed. In this manner half an hour passed away, and
Emily was no wiser than at first.
Maxwell has now, with an adroitness peculiar to the suc¬
cessful lawyer, made himself the subject of his remarks. He is
9*
102
IIATCHIE : A TALE OF TIIJS
careful that she shall know how sagacious he has been in
discovering the facts he has not jet revealed. He tells her
how many weary days and nights he has spent in searching
out the truth; what wonderful intelligence of his had
converted the shadow of a suspicion into the reality of an
incontrovertible conviction; how a single word he casually
overheard has been followed through weary days and dismal
nights, till he has arrived, with all the evidence in his hands,
at the truth !
Emily was certainly grateful for the deep interest he had
manifested in her behalf, and she expressed her gratitude
with modest earnestness.
" But, Miss Dumont," continued Maxwell, " I could not
thus have sacrificed myself for every client. My health and
strength, under ordinary circumstances, would have given
way, and the case have been lost."
" Indeed, sir, you may rely on the fullest and most sub¬
stantial acknowledgment for the service you have rendered.
My purse shall be entirely at your disposal," responded
Emily, warmly and innocently.
" Money, Miss Dumont, would not <Jiave tempted me to
make the sacrifice of health and comfort which this exertion
has required of me. I have done all my humble talents
would permit from a higher motive. I look for my reward in
the consciousness of having done my duty."
"I trust, Mr. Maxwell, you will receive the great reward
which is sure to follow every noble and true action."
Emily was sadly perplexed to understand this new and
singular phenomenon.
" The act itself is its own reward," said Maxwell, with an
attempt to counterfeit humility, which was very awkward,
but which deceived Emily, agitated as she was by hopes and
fears.
" But, as I said," continued he, " I would not have done
this for every client, and I trust you will pardon me when
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
103
I say the only reward I look forward to is your smile of
approval."
" I certainly cannot but approve of the motives which have
actuated you, and your actions perhaps I could better appre¬
ciate if my knowledge of them was more extensive," re¬
sponded Emily, disappointed and displeased, as her suspicions
were reawakened.
But a faint smile rested upon her beautiful features, as if
to soften the reproof she had administered, and to conceal
her rising emotions. She felt that Maxwell could assist her,
but she feared every moment that some allusion to the
prohibited subject would compel her to banish him from her
presence.
'' A smile from you were an ample reward for all my
trouble and exertion," said Maxwell, deceived by the smile
of Emily. "To be as sincere as your generous nature
demands, I cannot conquer the love I have before expressed.
I—"
" Excuse me, sir," indignantly interrupted Emily, " I must
retire."
" Nay, nay, Miss Dumont! I meant no offence. Hear me
but for a moment!"
" Not another instant, sir! You have deceived me."
'' Upon my honor, I have not. I possess the evidence by
which your birthright and possessions maybe restored."
" No more ! I had rather die in poverty, with the stain
clinging to me, than owe the restoration of my rights to you.
You have taken advantage of my unprotected condition to
impose upon me."
"You wrong me, Miss Dumont; as, if you will remain
but a moment, I will prove to you," said Maxwell, pleading
like an injured man.
Maxwell's peculiar tone and penitent air made Emily
pause, and perhaps think she had spoken too hastily. All
the wrong of which she could accuse him was, that he loved
her. She felt that this was not a crime. The remembrance
104
hatchie: a tale of the
of wrongs she knew he had inflicted upon others, perhaps
weak and unprotected like herself, nerved her resolution,
and to a word of love from him she could not listen. She
wished to conciliate him, if possible, but not at the expense
of her self-respect.
•' Why have you detained me all this time to listen to a
story with which I was before as familiar as yourself ? Why
have you used the language of love, which a refusal to hear
now renders insolent1?"
" I have offended you, Miss Dumont," said he, in the hum¬
blest tones ; " can I hope to be forgiven VI
" Your future conduct alone can secure my forgiveness."
" Then I solemnly promise never again to allude to the ad¬
miration with which I have regarded your matchless beauty,
or to mention the love which now consumes my heart."
"I trust you are sincere," said Emily, not knowing
whether to smile or frown upon this making and breaking the
promise in the same breath. The deep anxiety she felt for her
future fate made her disposed to forget the «past, and in a
gentler tone she expressed her forgiveness.
Maxwell imagined that, at last, his star was in the ascend¬
ant. His experience of woman-kind only indicated that he
had been too precipitate, and that the reserve, even the refusal
he had received, were only the accidents of the moment, not
the natural expression of an indifferent heart. His assurance
increased as he reflected. He was led to believe that he
might, now that the ice-barrier was removed, be more unre¬
served in his wooing. His perseverance had now overcome
all obstacles, and the prize was in his grasp.
" I have a plan to propose," said he, " which will imme¬
diately secure to you all your rights."
" Pray what is it?" asked Emily, eagerly.
" As you have forbidden me to speak of love, I am placed
in a very unfortunate position. In short, you can obtain
possession of your estate by returning'as my wife."
This last sentence was said in a whisper, and in a tone of
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
105
assurance, as though he felt she would gladly accept the
alternative.
"Sir!" exclaimed Emily, aghast with astonishment and
indignation, for the abruptness of the degrading proposition
nearly deprived her of the power of speech.
" Even so, Emily. I have the power to restore your rights,
and will do so on this condition. The ceremony may be per¬
formed at Natchez, where we shall arrive to-night; or, if you
fear I promise more than I can perform, I will draw up
an agreement, which you shall sign, to the effect that you
will accept my hand on the restoration of your rights. I will
give you two hours to think of it; and if, at the end of that
time, you accept the proposal, I will at once take the neces¬
sary steps to regain your fortune, and remove the stigma
which rests on your name."
" Never, sir, never ! I will die a beggar before I will owe
my prosperity to such a contract!" exclaimed Emily, whose
indignation now found utterance.
" I beg madam will reflect before she decides," said Max¬
well, in a satirical tone.
" Sir, I will die upon the rack, before the hand of a villain
shall lead me to the altar !" answered Emily, unable to con¬
trol her feelings.
" Softly, lady, softly !"
" Leave me, sir ! leave me, or I will call upon my uncle to
protect me from further insult!"
" Your uncle, I fear, was left at the last wood-yard ; so I
heard my friend De Guy say."
Emily felt herself the victim of a plot, and, rousing all her
energies, she said,
"Isee it all. The machinations of a villain — for such
you are — shall be foiled."
" Miss Dumont," said Maxwell, his passions roused by the
severity of her epithet, "do you forget your condition?
You are a slave! Your supposed uncle is not here. You
106
HATCHIE: A TALE OF THE
have no free papers, and are liable to be committed to the
next jail."
" But I am not without a friend who is able to protect me,"
said Emily, with spirit, as she saw Henry Carroll ascend to
the deck upon which they stood.
" Your friend is helpless. Another word, and I will pro¬
claim your condition," and he rudely seized her by the arm.
" Your friend cannot help you. He has not your free
papers."
" But he has a strong arm!" shouted Henry Carroll, as
with a single blow he struck the attorney to the deck.
" This way, Emily," said he to the weeping girl, who
clung tremblingly to him ; " you are safe now."
Emily was conducted by the gallant arm which had pro¬
tected her from we know not what indignity. She felt
secure in his presence from further molestation, and his sooth¬
ing words and hopeful promises did much to restore her.
Maxwell soon recovered from the effects of the blow .he had
received, and, boiling with passion, swore vengeance upon the
man who had interrupted him. But his passion was of short
duration, and was succeeded by sober reflections upon the
" position of his case." Emily Dumont was not of that
class of women with whom he was accustomed to deal. He
had found in her an element with which he had not before
been conversant, — of which, indeed, he had read in books of
poetry, but did not believe it existed in the material world.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST, 107
CHAPTER XI.
" Caught, caught
In thine own trap ! Thou hast confessed it all,—
The means, the end, the motive, — laid all bare !
0, thou poor knave ! —and that convenient friend
Who swears or unswears, speaks or holds his peace,
At thy command, — you have conspired together ! "
Lovell.
On- board the Chalmetta, Maxwell discovered an old
acquaintance in the person of a notorious gambler, — a class
of persons who congregate on Mississippi steamers, and prac¬
tise their arts upon the unwary traveller. This person, who
went by the name of Yernon, was well known at the faro and
roulette boards in New Orleans. He was an accomplished
swindler. In the winter season, when the city is crowded
with the elite of the state, and with strangers from all parts
of the Union, Yernon found abundant exercise for his profes¬
sional ability at the hells of the city, in the employment of
their proprietors, acting the part of banker,-or anything else
that offered him the means of gratifying his luxurious habits.
A twinge of conscience never prevented him from adopting
any means of emptying the pockets of his victims, even
without the formality of dice or cards.
In the summer season he beguiled his time on the river, or
migrated with the fashionables to Pascagoula, or a more
northern watering-place, — in fine, to any sphere which
afforded him a theatre for the exercise of his talents as a
blackleg. Wherever he was, he never passed by an op¬
portunity to obtain possession of his neighbor's valuables.
108
iiatchie: a tale , of the
If the monied man would accept a hand at euchre or poker,
why, he was so much the easier cleaned out; if not, false
keys, pick-locks, or sleight-of-hand, soon relieved the unfor¬
tunate victim of his superfluous possessions.
Early in his career of fashionable dissipation, Maxwell
had made the acquaintance of this notorious individual.
Indeed, he had sufficient cause to remember him, for he had
made a deep inroad into his patrimony. Maxwell was too
great a rascal himself to be long duped by a greater one. A
kind of business intimacy had grown up between them, and
continued to exist at the time of our story. This connection
was not, however, publicly acknowledged by Maxwell ; it
would have been the ruin of his fine prospects : but he used
him whenever a scheme of profit or revenge required an un¬
scrupulous confederate. Yet this Vernon was by no means a
dependent creature of Maxwell's, for he was bold, reckless,
and independent to the last degree. Whether acting as the
paid devil of another, or on his own responsibility, he bowed
to no power but his own will. His physical courage was
well known to be of the most obstinate character. "When
the coward dandy had an enemy to punish, Vernon, for a
hundred dollars, would first insult and then fight the luck¬
less individual. This had formerly been a lucrative part of
his trade ; but latterly his claims to the distinction of gen¬
tleman and man of honor had been of such a questionable
character, that the man who refused to meet him did not
lose caste among the bloods of the city.
Vernon was now on his way to a wider sphere of action
than New Orleans, with its yellow fever season at hand,
afforded him. As usual, he. practised his arts on board the
Chalmetta, which, however, afforded him but a narrow field,
the passengers being mostly officers, who had left their pay
in the cabarets of Mexico.
By some means he had ascertained that Henry Carroll was
in possession of a considerable sum of money. By all the
arts in his power he had endeavored to lure him to the
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
109
gambling-table, which was constantly spread in the cabin,
and surrounded by unfortunate victims, vainly striving
against the coolness and trickery of professional blacklegs, to
recruit their exhausted finances, or retrieve the ruin to which
an unlucky hour had enticed them. Henry obstinately
refused to take a hand; but Vernon's heart was set upon the
bag of gold he knew was in Henry's trunk, and he resolved
to possess it, — a feat not easy to accomplish on board a
crowded steamer.
After Maxwell had recovered from the blow which had
felled him to the deck, and while Henry was soothing the
distress of Emily, he met Yernon, who was in the act of
reconnoitring the young officer's state-room. Vernon was
just the person to serve him in this extremity. The pro¬
tector of Emily must be removed from his charge, as her uncle
had been by De Guy. He resolved upon a consultation with
the blackleg. Accordingly he expressed his desire, to which
the gambler replied by requesting him to give notice of the
approach of any one, while he did a little business in the
state-room.
Maxwell vainly remonstrated, but was obliged to comply
with the wishes of the robber, or lose his services.
Vernon, thus protected from intrusion, entered the room,
and by the aid of a pick-lock soon succeeded in obtaining pos¬
session of all poor Henry's earthly wealth. Beckoning Max¬
well to follow, he descended to the main deck, where, procur¬
ing a lantern, they proceeded aft.
We must return to Uncle Nathan and Pat Fegan, whom
we left on their way to the fugitive in the hold of the
steamer.
" Whisht, now," said Pat, in a whisper, as they prepared
to jump down the hatchway ; " whisht, now, and don't spake
a loud word, for the life of yous."
Uncle Nathan promised obedience, and followed Pat into
the hold. All was total darkness, and it was not without a
feeling of superstitious dread that Uncle Nathan heard his
10
110
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
companion tap on the box which contained the mulatto. He
heard the whispered recognition of its inmate, and stood lika
a statue while Hatehie freed himself from his confinement.
" Whisht, now," said Pat, in a low voice ; " give me your
hand, Mr. Binson. Now, there yoiis are," and he placed
Uncle Nathan's hand in that of Hatehie.
Uncle Nathan found the hand was warm, and felt com¬
pletely relieved of the sensation of fear which had come over
him.
" Glad to see you," said he, though an instant afterwards
his conscience asked him if he had not-told a lie, inasmuch
as it was so dark he could not see anything.
"You are a friend, I trust," replied Hatehie, who, al¬
though he implicitly relied on the faith of the Irish ally, had
not the fullest confidence in his judgment. Nothing but what
he deemed a stern necessity would have compelled him to
trust the secret with any one. So many dangers encompassed
him, that the duty he owed to his injured mistress obliged
him to look around for the means of preserving the valuable
document he possessed. An accident to the steamer, the con¬
tinuous danger of being restored to Jaspar, and a hundred
other painful reflections, brought him to the resolution of
depositing the will in the hands of the most trustworthy per¬
son he could find. In this extremity, he canvassed the char¬
acters of all he knew on board. Henry Carroll, he feared,
was too impetuous, if not actually devoted to Jaspar. He
knew nothing of the interesting relation which the hearts of
the lovers had recognized, — pity he did not! Uncle Nathan,
whom Pat had described in glowing colors, —none are more
highly esteemed than those who confer the most solid bene¬
fits, — seemed to him the proper person, especially as Pat
had seen her speak to him after the accident. An honest
man is so easily known, that the poor Irishman's instinctive
knowledge of human nature imparted the most correct
information.
"I am your friend, and I trust the Lord will always put
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST. Ill
it into my heart to befriend the unfortunate," said Uncle
Nathan, in answer to Hatchie's remark.
" It is not on my own account that I need a friend," said
Hatchie, in a melancholy tone, for the responsibility which
rested upon him had solemnized his mind, and banished all
reflections of self. '' It matters little what becomes of me.
But, sir, you are a stranger to me, and I know not that I
may trust you."
" Nor I nuther, till I know what you want of me. If it is
an honest sarvice, one that I can do without goin' agin my
conscience, why, I am ready to do anything to help a feller-
cretur."
" The service I am about to request," replied Hatchie, his
doubts in a great measure removed by the apparent sincerity
of his auditor," can be done honestly; and, if your conscience
approves any act, it will approve this one.''
" Very well, I will act for you to the best of my judgment,
and use all the discretion that natur gave me, and a little I
larned by the way-side. Partrick tells me you want to talk
with the lady whose life you saved last night."
" Not exactly to talk with her, but about her. I feel that
I can "trust you, even with her destiny. That lady is my
mistress. She is an angel of goodness. I am perfectly wil¬
ling to be her slave, so that it was not to gain my freedom
I escaped in this box. It was to save her from a cruel wrong
which her uncle would inflict upon her."
" That old gentleman who is with her V interrupted Uncle
Nathan.
" The same. He is the most hardened villain in the
world, — so different from my poor master, who was a good
man, and loved even his slaves ! This man would make it
appear that my mistress is not the legitimate child of her
father, but the daughter of a quadroon girl, whom he formerly
owned. He has forged a will to obtain his own purposes
and deprived poor mistress of her natural rights. But, on the
night when the villany was perpetrated, I managed to obtain
112
HATCH IE : A TALE OF THE
the true will, and to make my escape, —and a very narrow
escape it was, for I was shot at and obliged to jump into the
river to save my life. They think the shot killed me; but I
shall yet expose their villany—"
"Good gracious, I hope so!" exclaimed Uncle Nathan,
whose sympathies were awakened by the brief narrative of
the mulatto.
" Now, it is scarcely prudent for me to retain possession of
this will. I may be discovered, or drowned, or sh'ot; and
then my poor mistress would never be restored."
" True," replied Uncle Nathan, appreciating his compan¬
ion's reasoning, and admiring his warm devotion to his
mistress.
" I wish to place the will in the keeping of some trusty
person, who will guard it as his own life, — who will deem no
sacrifice too great to relieve the distressed, and foil the
wicked," said Hatchie, earnestly.
" I will do the best I can."
" Before I intrust it to you, I must feel that you will not
only be discreet, but that you will labor to foil this wicked
plot."
"I will do everything I can," replied Uncle Nathan,
warmly, for his heart was touched at the wrongs of Emily.
"Then here is the will," said Hatchie, handing him the
packet, which he had taken the precaution to envelop in
oil-cloth. " Remember how much depends upon your caution
and fidelity. God forgive me, if I have done wrong in giving
it to you!"
" You may depend upon me. I will take good care of the
document. But shan't I say anything to the lady about it?"
" Assure her, if you can without exposing yourself, that
the will is safe. It will give joy to her heart to know that
she has the means of restoration to her home and name."
" I will see everything done about right; and I hope soon
to meet you in the land of liberty."
" I shall never leave my mistress. I have been near her
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTII-WEST.
113
from her birth, and, though only a slave, I feel that I was
sent into the world for no other purpose than to protect and
serve her. Liberty away from her has no charms for me."
" Goodness !" ejaculated Uncle Nathan ; "I never should
have thought it!"
Hatchie's devotion to his mistress, so eloquently expressed,
jostled rather rudely the Northerner's prejudices concerning
the treatment of slaves.
The conversation was here interrupted by three taps on the
deck above them, produced by the brogan of Pat Fegan.
Hatchie recognized the preconcerted signal, and, abruptly
terminating his remarks, he leaped into the box, drew on
the lid, and left,Uncle Nathan to find "his way out as best he
could.
" Whisht, now," said Pat, whispering down the hatch.
"Jump up, Mr. Binson!"
Uncle Nathan approached the hatchway, and endeavored
to leap out, an effort which was assisted by Pat, who, rudely
seizing him by the collar, jerked him out with a violence
that threatened his bones with dissolution.
" How the divil did yous tumble in there?" screamed Pat,
as two persons approached. " Are yous hurted ?"
" A little," replied Uncle Nathan, perceiving the ruse of
his coadjutor.
" I fear yous are. Thry are your legs broke?" continued
Pat, whose energy of utterance gave a fair appearance to the
deceit.
" Are you much hurt?" asked one of the persons who had
by their presence disturbed the conference.
" Very little," replied Uncle Nathan, who really felt the
uncomfortable effects of a knock on the knee he had received
in his involuntary ascent from the hold.
" Bad luck to't, but't was a wicked fall!" said Pat, fear¬
ful that his conscientious companion would expose the deceit.
" Can I render you any assistance?" asked one of the
10*
114
hatchie: a tale of the
intruders, who were none other than Maxwell and Vernon,
whom we left on their way to the main deck.
" Thank ye, I don't need any," replied Uncle Nathan,
hobbling off, accompanied by Pat.
"Now, is the coast clear?" said Vernon, who carried a
lantern he had borrowed from the mate.
"All clear; but put out that light, — the engineers will
notice us," replied Maxwell.
" But I can't find my way into the hold without it. There
is no danger of the engineers. They are all asleep on the
forward deck."
" What do you want in the hold?" asked Maxwell, in an
irritable tone.
"I want to hide this bag of money," replied Vernon, in a
whisper. "As soon as the covey finds he has been picked,
they will search the boat; and my character is not likely to
save me from the indignity of being obliged to open my trunk,
and turn out my pockets."
" It is bad business, and I wish you had not done this
thing. As I told you before, / have nothing to do with it. I
feel myself rather above common robbery."
" Self-esteem ! But you came down on your own business,
not on mine. You can return, and not trouble yourself any
further," growled Vernon.
" I need your help, and will pay you for it."
" Very well, then, wait till this job is finished."
" Go on ! I will follow," replied Maxwell, finding remon¬
strance vain.
After a careful scrutiny of the premises, Vernon concealed
his lantern under his coat, and leaped into the hold, followed
by Maxwell.
" Now," said Vernon, " I must put this bag into one of
these boxes, to be guarded by the spirits of the brave men
whose bones repose in them."
" Are you mad, man 1 "Would you open the coffins of the
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTII-WEST.
115
dead to hide your ill-gotten gold?" exclaimed Maxwell,
alarmed at the purpose of his confederate.
" Why not 1 "We need not disturb the bodies, — only open
the outside box."
" "Very well," said Maxwell, who felt how useless it was
to oppose his companion. " But remember, I have nothing
to do with the robbery."
" Of course not, and nothing to do with sharing the pro¬
ceeds ; but sit down, if you have anything to say to me. We
are perfectly safe from interruption here and Yernon seated
himself on the box which was occupied by the mulatto.
" My words need'not be many. In the first place, I have
been insulted, and must have satisfaction ; and, in the second,
there is a girl in the cabin to whom I am much attached, and
she will not give me the smallest sign of encouragement.
Have her I must, by fair means or foul. I would marry her.
You understand1?"
"Certainly; but what's the plan1?" asked Yernon, indif¬
ferently.
"Rather a difficult one, and may require some nerve to
execute it," replied Maxwell, who proceeded to develop his
schemes, both in respect to Henry Carroll and to Emily.
Although the conspirators spoke in a low tone, Hatchie
heard and understood the whole plot. The voice of Maxwell
he recognized, and, although the name of the lady against
whom his designs were meditated was not mentioned, he
comprehended who she was.
The confederated scoundrels having finished their confer¬
ence, Yernon drew from his pocket a small screw-driver, and
proceeded to remove the screws from one of the boxes, which,
to Hatchie's great relief, was not the one occupied by him¬
self. After much labor, for the boxes were carefully con¬
structed, to bear the rough usage of transportation, he
succeeded in removing the lid, and deposited the bag of
money between the coffin and the case which enclosed it.
116
IIATCniE : A TALK OF THE
Haying effected the object which brought them to the hold,
the two ascended again, and made their way to the cabin.
In addition to the knowledge of the plot, Ilatchie was made
acquainted with a fact which afforded him much pleasure —
that Henry Carroll, in defence of his mistress, had knocked
Maxwell down. This was evidence in his favor. He also
heard something of the preference she had bestowed upon
him, and that on this account, mote than for the blow, he
was to be the victim of Maxwell's vengeance. But he
resolved to foil both schemes.
mississippi and the south-west.
117
CHAPTER XII.
" He must be taught to know he has presumed
To stand in competition with the.
— You will not kill him 1 " Shirley.
" Wherefore com 'st thou 1
— To comfort you, and bring you joyful news."
Marlow.
On the second night of the Chalmetta's voyage, as Henry
was about to retire, the steward handed him a note. An
hour before he had struck a "fashionable" man a severe
blow, and he conjectured at once that it had called forth this
note. On opening the billet, his supposition proved to be
correct. It was a challenge from Maxwell.
We are very much opposed to duels and duelling, and we
regret that faithfulness to the facts of history compels us to
record that Captain Carroll accepted the challenge. He had
moral courage enough to resist the promptings of that artifi¬
cial spirit of honor which encourages duels; but there was
'' a lady in the case,"'— a lady whom he fondly loved. He felt
that the insult which she had received was not sufficiently
punished. Besides, there was an audacity about the man
which deserved to be punished, and he resolved to punish it.
Poor human nature ! Henry never reflected that he might be
shot himself, and the persecutor of innocence escape un¬
harmed. No; he felt that the blow he had struck in defence
of innocence was a just retribution, as far as it went; and
that he should fall, he who had espoused the cause of inno¬
cence, why it was simply impossible!
He accepted the challenge, and requested a brother officer
to act as his " friend." The two seconds — Major Brunn on
US
ii.vtoiik: a tale ot? tiie
the part of Henry, and Yernon on the part of Maxwell —
arranged the preliminaries.
The boat would arrive at Natchez about daylight, and
would remain there long enough to allow the meeting to take
place. ^
Henry Carroll, though his chivalrous spirit was gratified at
the opportunity to revenge the insult offered to Emily, was ill
at ease. To meet a man of no character (for such he sup¬
posed Maxwell to be) was not a very ornamental accompani¬
ment to ari affair of honor. He had a hundred times braved
death on the field of battle, but to die in a duel with such a
man seemed to his now tranquillized mind anything but honor¬
able. Emily had retired, and he could not bid her farewell.
Perhaps he had seen her for the last time oh earth, for the
possibility of being killed himself tardily came to his mind.
He wrote a long letter to Emily, and another to Uncle Nathan.
The worthy Northerner had produced a very favorable
impression upon his mind. He knew his liberal soul, and the
design of the letter was to interest him in her favor, — to
induce him to conduct her to his Northern home.
Henry returned to his couch with many painful doubts as
to the morality, and even the expediency, of his course. But
the feeling of honor — of false honor — comforted him, and,
animated by its spirit, he even looked forward with pleasure
upon his revenge, — upon the death of his opponent. This
would be in accordance with the justice of the case, and he
flattered himself that justice, if it did not always prevail,
would triumph in this instance. With such reflections he
closed his eyes, and sunk to his slumbers.
The Chalmetta moved lazily on her course. Her lights had
all been extinguished, and the idlers, who a few hours before
had paced the decks, were now slumbering in their berths, or
on the cabin floor. The clock over the clerk's office indicated
the hour of twelve. On the main deck forward the sleepy
firemen were languidly supplying the furnaces; the engi-
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-VEST.
119
neers, less actively employed, had fallen asleep by the cylin¬
ders.
On the after quarter, laying flat upon the deck, were two
men earnestly engaged in conversation, in which the whis¬
pered brogue of Pat Pegan might have been detected. After
the conversation had continued some time, one of them
cautiously raised his head, as if to penetrate the gloom that
enshrouded them. Satisfied that they were alone, the two
rose, and, without noise, climbed up one of the posts to the
gallery which surrounded the cabin, Then, with a light
step, they passed on, and stopped before the state-room occu¬
pied by Vernon.
"Are you sure this is his room?" asked Hatchie, in a
smothered whisper.
" Troth, I am, thin," responded his companion ; " but be
aisy, or you '11 wake him."
" The worse for him," replied Hatchie, as his teeth ground
together.
Hatchie placed his hand upon the door, and softly openeo
it. The sleeper heard him not. The negro groped about the
room until his hand rested upon some pistols which lay on
a trunk by the side of the berth. These he took, and, hand¬
ing two of them to Pat, retained the third in his hand.
Closing the door, they proceeded, as they had come, to the
main deck.
Seating himself behind a heap of merchandise, Hatchie
proceeded to examine the pistols by the light of a lantern
which Pat had borrowed from the sleeping engineers. The
pistols were of the common pattern used in duelling. Two
of the three were mates; and Hatchie discovered, on exami¬
nation, that neither of them were loaded with ball. The
third pistol, which contained two balls, was very similar in
form and size to the pair. Hatchie extracted the balls from
this one, and loaded the pair with one ball each, leaving the
unmatched one blank. They then carefully conveyed them
120
hatcihe: a tale of tjie
to Vernon's state-room, and placed them on the trunk pre¬
cisely as they had found them.
As had been premised, the Chalmetta arrived at Natchez
about daylight. Vernon, well acquainted with all its localities,
led the parties of the duel to a retired place in the vicinity.
The distance was measured off, and the principals took the
stations assigned them.,
" Now be careful they do not see you do it," said Vernon,
in a low, careless tone.
The pistols were handed to the principals, the signal was
given, and both fired nearly at the same instant.
" Confound it!" exclaimed Maxwell, dropping his pistol,
and grasping the left arm, which had been hit by Henry's
ball. " How does this happen ?"
But Vernon was as much confounded by this unexpected
result of the duel as his principal. He had only time to pro¬
test that he had prepared the pistols as agreed upon, when
Major Brunn arrived at the spot.
On examining the wounded man, it was found that the ball
had struck the fleshy part of the arm. The injury was very
trifling. Maxwell was much astonished at receiving a ball
from his opponent's pistol, — a circumstance which was
owing entirely to Hatchie's precaution on the previous night.
He had overheard the plan by which Maxwell was to fire a
ball at Henry, with no danger of receiving one in return.
Vernon had loaded the pair without ball, and the single jiis-
tol with two balls. Henry was to select from the pair; the
third was to be concealed upon the person of Maxwell, who
was to use it instead of the blank. Major Brunn, supposing
Vernon to be a in an of honor, had not insisted upon examin¬
ing the charge in presence of both seconds, and thus every¬
thing had worked to the satisfaction of the confederates up
to the time of the firing. By Hatchie's precaution, Henry held"
one of the two which were loaded with ball, while Maxwell
had fired the blank.
Maxwell was, as may be supposed, vexed and disconcerted
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
121
at the result of the duel; and, with an ill grace, he resolved
to postpone his revenge to another time, inasmuch as he
could not hope again to shoot at his foe in perfect safety.
The party returned to the steamer just in season for her
departure. Maxwell's wound was examined by the surgeon,
and pronounced very slight. Henry was rejoiced at this
intelligence, for the cold-blooded thoughts which had found
a place in his heart had departed, and his naturally kind
disposition resumed its sway. He was glad that the affair
had terminated without the loss of life ; glad that his con¬
science was not burdened, with the blood of a fellow-creature ;
glad, too, that he had escaped unhurt. This last consid¬
eration was not a selfish one. He felt that all the energy he
possessed he should require in the restoration of her he so
tenderly loved.
His first step, on returning to the steamer, was to destroy
the letters he had written to meet the worst calamity which
might befall him. Having occasion to open his trunk, he
discovered, to his surprise, that it was unlocked. Further
examination showed that he had been robbed of all his
earthly possessions. This was a severe blow. The money
was the accumulation of two years' service, and he was now
penniless, — without even a sufficient sum to pay his passage.
He immediately informed the captain of his loss, who gave
him the comfortable assurance that the robber had probably
gone ashore at Natchez. However, he caused a thorough
search of the boat to be made ; but, as may be supposed, the
search was vain.
Uncle Nathan sympathized with him in his loss, —not with
words alone, but voluntarily proposed to lend him any
amount he required; an offer which Henry accepted with
gratitude.
" I see you are acquainted with that lady you saved from
drowning," said the worthy farmer, after he had passed the
loan to Henry. The duel had before been discussed and
11
122
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
roundly condemned. The cause of the quarrel had introduced
the fact to which the farmer had alluded.
" I am. Her father was my best friend. I spent a few
weeks with him a short time before his death."
"0, ho!" thought Uncle Nathan, "I guess the black
feller didn't know that, or he would have given the papers
to himand he resolved to inform Hatchie of Henry's
presence.
Descending, he soon discovered Pat Fegan, and, by his
help, was enabled to hold a conference with Hatchie, who,
now that it was daylight, talked through a crevice in his box.
Hatchie was anxious to know the result of the duel, which
Uncle Nathan imparted, to whom, in return, the mulatto
related the means he had used to foil the attorney's purpose,
which was nothing less than murder. He also disclosed the
particulars of the second plot, which was to be put in execu¬
tion that night.
The information the faithful slave had gained in relation
to the character of Henry's efforts for his mistress made him
quite willing to have him admitted into the confidence of her
secret protectors.
Uncle Nathan returned to the cabin, delighted with the
idea of sharing his responsibility with Henry. But his first
wish was to relieve the distress of Emily, who, he rightly
judged, was in continued suffering, on account of the painful
uncertainty which shrouded her destiny.
Emily rose on the morqing of the duel in blissful ignorance
of the danger which Henry had incurred on her account.
She had passed a sleepless night, in the most intense agony.
Her eyes were red and swollen with weeping, and her heart
yet beat with the violence of her emotions. She felt in the
most intense degree the misery of her situation, to which she
failed not to give all its weight. She had a friend — a brother
— more than brother — near, in the person of Henry. That-
love which she allowed her fond heart to cherish was like
an oasis in the desert of her misery. She loved him, and in
MISSISSIPPI AND TIIE SOUTH-WEST.
123
this thought — in the delightful sensation which accompa
nied it — she found her only solace.
At breakfast she saw him again ; again his speaking eyes
told how fondly his heart clung to her; again his smile
fanned her fevered brain, like the zephyr of summer, into a
dream of bliss. Her heart led her back to the days when
they had wandered together over her father's plantation.
Then, restrained by the coyness of unrevealed love, each
enjoyed a happiness to which the other was supposed to be
a stranger.
But the anguish of he^ painful position would come to
destroy the dream of bliss, and dissipate the bright halo her
imagination had cast before her. She retired to her state¬
room, to ponder again her unhappy lot. " Thy will be done,''
murmured she, as, throwing herself into a chair, she resigned
herself to the terrible reflection that she was a slave and an
outcast. The bright dream of love was only a chimera, to
make her feel more deeply the terrible reality.
Whilst she was thus venting her anguish, she was roused
from her lethargy of grief by the chambermaid, who had
entered by the inner door.
" Please, ma'am, a gentleman out in the cabin says he
wants to speak to you."
" A gentleman wishes to speak to me? Did he send his
name ?''
" No, ma'am. He said you would n't know him, if he did;
so it was no use to send it."
" Pray, what looking gentleman is he V' — her mind revert¬
ing to Maxwell.
" Well, ma'am, he's a very respectable looking gentleman,"
answered the girl, to whom Uncle Nathan (for he was the
person alluded to) had given half a dollar. " I think he is a
Yankee, by his talk."
" Pray, ask him to send his name."
" Yes, ma'am," said the chambermaid, retiring. .
Emily was puzzled by the request, and, judging from the
124
hatchie: a tale of the
girl's description that it could not be Maxwell, began to dread
a new enemy.
The chambermaid presently returned, and said the gentle¬
man's name was Benson.
Emily's perplexity was not diminished, but she resolved to
see the applicant at the door of the room, so that, if his
errand was from Maxwell, she could easily retire from his
presence. Accordingly she instructed the girl to show him
to the door on the gallery.
" I beg your pardon, ma'am," said Uncle Nathan, as soon
as he reached the position assigned him; " you are Miss
Dumont, I believe V
" The same," said she, as calmly as her fluttering heart
would permit. 4' May I beg to know your business with
me ?"
" Yes, ma'am," said Uncle, Nathan, bluntly; " but don't
be scart. I know something of your trials ; and I trust the
Lord will give you strength to endure them with patience."
" Really, sir, you astonish me! May I be allowed to ask
how you became acquainted with my affairs V
" All in good time, ma'am; I have in my possession a
document, which, I'm told, will set matters all right with
you."
" What is it, sir V — and Emily was still more astonished
at the singularity of the adventure.
" It is your father's will, ma'am," replied Uncle Nathan,
disdaining all preface and preliminary to this important
remark.
" My father's will, sir ! Impossible!"
" Fact, ma'am. I will tell you all about it;" and Uncle
Nathan proceeded, in his own blunt way, to relate his adven¬
tures in the hold.
Emily listened with surprise and joy to the honest farm¬
er's story. When he had concluded, although she did not
give way to the joy of her heart, a change from the depth of
despair to the pinnacle of happiness took place in her silent
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
125
heart. How devoutly she thanked the great Father who had
watched over her in her anguish, and now shed a halo of
joy across her darkened path ! How earnest was the silent
prayer which arose from the depths of her heart, for the
safety of the faithful slave, who had perilled his life for her
happiness ! How deeply laden with the incense of gratitude
was the song of thanksgiving which rose from her soul to the
Giver of all good!
And when Uncle Nathan told the story of the duel, a new
song of thanksgiving arose for Henry's safety. The joy she
felt in his preservation would not be entirely confined to her
heart, and Uncle Nathan — unromantic bachelor as he was
— could not but discern the deep interest she felt in him.
The interview was concluded, and the worthy farmer left
the gallery more rejoiced than if he had himself been
declared heir of Colonel Dumont's millions ; and he looked
around, as excited as a school-boy on the first day of vacation,
to find Henry, and relate the good news.
11*
126
hatciiie: a tale op the
CHAPTER XIII.
" Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash
Of echoing thunder." Byron.
The day of the duel was a day of happiness to Emily
Dumont. The restraint which Jaspar's presence imposed
was removed. Maxwell, from prudence or some other motive,
did not intrude upon her. Her heart was rejoiced by the
glad tidings which Uncle Nathan had conveyed to her.
Henry Carroll was permitted to enjoy her society. It was
a day of bliss to both ; and, though a crowded steamer could
ill afford the privacy which new-born love ever seeks, yet
opportunities of giving expression to their feelings were not
wanting. All day long they revelled in the delightful
emotions which warmed their hearts. Their intercourse
was now burdened by no painful reflections on the misery
which had so lately environed Emily. The means of her re¬
storation to home and society were at hand. The only difficulty
now was to discover the best method of establishing her
rights. Against Jaspar and Maxwell they cherished no
ill-will, — they had no desire to punish them for their wicked
designs.
Uncle Nathan, too, was in the " full enjoyment of his
mind." The relief he had "providentially" been able to
afford to Emily's mind was the medium of an abundant satis¬
faction. As the darkness began to gather, he found an oppor¬
tunity of conversing with Henry, whose entire devotion to
Emily during the day had rendered him a stranger in-the gen¬
tlemen's cabin. The plot which Hatchie had revealed to him
had caused him but little anxiety. Maxwell's wounded arm,
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
127
he concluded, would delay its execution. But he gave the
particulars to Henry, who was not at all satisfied that it
would not be undertaken.
" We must watch to-night," said he.
" Sartain, we '11 keep a good look-out; but the scamp
can't do anything while he is wounded.''
" But he had confederates."
" Perhaps he has. But here is another friend," said
Uncle Nathan, as he perceived Pat Fegan, who had for some
time been watching an opportunity to speak to him.
" Sure, the naiger would like to spake wid yous," said
Pat, in a whisper.
" What's the matter, Pat ?" asked Henry.
" Nothin', your honor," replied Pat, promptly; "I was
only tellin' this gintleman that a poor divil was dhrunk on.
the lower deck, and he'd betther go and prayeh timperance
to him."
"No, no, Partrick, that's too bad," interrupted Uncle
Nathan, reprovingly ; " I must teach you to tell the truth."
Pat opened his eyes with astonishment when he heard
Uncle Nathan explain to Henry the part he had borne in the
drama, and was about to utter in plain Irish his opinion of a
man who would thus betray a confidence, when Henry
explained that he was an old friend of Hatchie and the lady.
" Long life to your honor, if that be true !" exclaimed
Pat; " and you won't blow on the naiger V'
" I have too strong an interest in him to do anything to
his injury," replied Henry. " But show me the way to
him, Pat."
" One at a time, if yous plaze," said Pat, as he perceived
Uncle Nathan about to follow them.
Pat led the way to the after part of the lowgr deck, to
which Hatchie had ascended, as on the night of the rescue,
to inhale the fresh air. This step was a safe one in the
night, as, if any one approached (which was seldom), he
could easily and speedily regain his hiding-place.
128
HATCH TE : A TALE OF THE
" Hould aisy," said Pat, as they approached the fugitive ;
" don't be afraid, — I have brought yous a frind."
I hope you will not bring me too many friends," replied
Hatchie, a little disconcerted.
" Don't you know me1?" said Henry, as he grasped the
hand of Hatchie ; " I have just come from your mistress, and
know your whole story.''
" Not all," replied Hatchie; " you cannot know how much
anxiety I have endured. Miss Emily is not yet safe."
" But we can easily foil the villain's future designs."
" We will, at least, endeavor to do so."
" I believe I have seen you before; we were companions in
the rescue."
" We were, and God bless you for the noble service you
rendered my mistress !"
" That service was all your own, my gallant fellow."
" You undervalue your own efforts. He who gets into the
Mississippi seldom gets out alive. Without your timely assist¬
ance, I tremble to think of what might have been the end.
My experience of the river enabled me to bring her up ; but
without your aid at the moment it came I do not think I
could have saved her. But this is all past. Thank God, she
is yet safe, though another danger hovers over her."
" This foul conspiracy, — will they put it in execution
to-night V'
" I heard the villain they call Vernon, an hour ago, engage
a deck hand to help him row the boat."
" Then there is indeed danger. I had thought Maxwell's
wound would have prevented it for a season."
" A mere scratch. I would your ball had found the vil¬
lain's heart, if he has one. But Vernon is the most danger¬
ous man — a more accomplished villain."
" Vernon," said Henry, musing; " he was Maxwell's
second."
" Yes. That duel was a plot to murder you."
" How so ?"
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
129
Hatchie explained the plan of Yernon, which had been
rendered futile by his precaution.
"The scoundrel! but how knew you this, and how hap¬
pens it that I escaped while he is wounded ?" said Henry.
" I overheard the plot when I did the other. Yernon is a
common robber. He came into the hold to conceal a bag of
money he had stolen."
"A bag of money!" interrupted Henry, his thoughts
diverted from the subject.
" Ay, a bag of money."
" Do you know where they hid it ?"
" I do; but why do you ask?" and Hatchie was much
pained to discover in Henry what he mistook for a feeling of
rapacity. He wanted and expected the perfection of an angel
in the man who sustained the relation of lover and protector
to his mistress.
" Because I have been robbed of all I had in the world,"
replied Henry, seeing the shade upon Hatchie's brow.
"Indeed!" exclaimed the mulatto, his doubts removed,
and pleased in being able to restore his money.
" The money is undoubtedly mine. Your noble devotion
to your mistress has thus proved a fortunate thing for me.
But about the pistols ?''
Hatchie related the means he had used to derange Max¬
well's plan.
" I shall never be able to repay the debt I owe you," said
Henry, warmly, as the mulatto finished his story.
" I did it for my mistress' sake. I learned that you were
her friend."
" And she will bless you for the act."
'' Now, what shall be done to insure her safety to night ?
for they will attempt her abduction, I doubt not."
It was arranged that Henry should watch in the vicinity
of Emily's state-room, while Uncle Nathan, Hatchie and Pat
Fegan, should occupy the lower deck. Emily was not to be
informed of the danger ; it would distress her to no purpose.
130
hatchie: a tale of the
They had no doubt of their ability to protect her. Accustomed
as Henry was to danger, perhaps he did not fully appreciate
that which was now gathering around Emily. He felt that,
in knowing the particulars of the nefarious scheme, he was
abundantly able, even single-handed, to prevent its success.
Obtaining a screw-driver and a lantern from one of the
engineers, he succeeded in obtaining possession of his stolen
bag of gold. On his return to the cabin, he observed Vernon
standing at the bar, and the temptation to give his moral
faculties a start could not be resisted. Purchasing a dozen
cigars, he remarked that he had no change, and coolly pulled
the bag of gold from his pocket. Vernon's astonishment and
consternation could not be entirely concealed, as he recognized
the bag he had securely deposited in the box with the dead.
Henry took no notice of him, though he heard him say, in a
suppressed tone, " The devil is in this boat!"
Henry sought his state-room, where he found Uncle Nathan
impatiently waiting to hear the result of the interview.
" There is danger," said Henry, " and we must be ready
to do our duty manfully."
"Good gracious! you don't say so!" exclaimed Uncle
Nathan.
" We must watch to-night, and, if need be, fight!"
" How you talk ! You don't think the feller with the sore
arm will try to do anything to-night?"
" I fear he willand Henry opened his trunk, and took
therefrom a pair of revolvers.
" Gracious! will there be any need of pistols? Could n't
you reason with them1?" exclaimed Uncle Nathan, who,
as before hinted, had a great repugnance to the use of deadly
weapons.
" I am afraid they will not listen to reason," said Henry,
smiling, in spite of his anxiety. " If action is necessary, it
must be prompt. I know your heart, my good friend, and I
trust your non-resistant notions will not interfere with your
duty. I must rely on your aid in this affair."
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
131
" Sartain. I will do all I can, if I die for it. But I t.hink
I can get along very well without one of them 'ere things,"
said Uncle Nathan, eying the pistols with distrust.
" Very well, I shall not urge you, though I think it would
be prudent for you to have one. As you go to your station,
you will oblige me by giving this one to the mulatto boy."
" Sartain, cap'n," replied Uncle Nathan, taking the pistol;
" I an't exactly a non-resistance man, only I hate to use pis¬
tols ; —not that I 'in afeered on 'em ; but to take a feller-
cretur's life is a dreadful thing. You know the New Testa¬
ment says, ' Resist not evil,' and "
" Yes, I remember ; but now is the time to act, and not to
preach. I shall place myself near Miss Dumont's state-room,
and your party will see that the stern-boat is not disturbed."
" All right, cap'n, but do be careful about spilling blood !"
said Uncle Nathan, who did not like the cool, determined air
with which Henry handled his pistols.
" Be assured I will not wantonly take the life of even the
most hardened villain ; but in defence of Miss Dumont I shall
consider that the end will justify the means."
Uncle Nathan went to his post, and Henry, muffling him¬
self in a large camp-cloak, seated himself near- Emily's door.
Accustomed as he was to the perils and privations of the
camp, the duty before him did not seem difficult or irksome.
To his chivalrous spirit there was a pleasure in thus watch¬
ing over an innocent being, while she slept, unconscious of
the danger that menaced her. Lighting his cigar, he
resigned himself to the dream of blissful anticipations,
which relieved the monotony of the scene.
Maxwell, in the seclusion of his state-room, had thor¬
oughly digested the plan for the abduction of Emily. Vernon
had arranged the details, and the lawyer's reflections suggested
no material alteration. His wounded arm was a hindrance,
but time was too precious to admit of delay. The Chalmetta
was so tardy in her movements that Jaspar must soon over¬
take them, and then the opportunity would be lost.
132
hatciiie: a talis of tiie
If he could get Emily into his power, and away from, the
influences which now surrounded her, he doubted not he
could induce her, by threats or persuasion, to become his wife;
then he would spring the trap upon Jaspar, and the coveted
object of his existence would be gained. He had already
forged a bill of sale of her person, and, thus provided with an
implement of coercion, he doubted not that success would
crown his efforts.
As the evening advanced, and the passengers had mostly
retired for the night, Maxwell and Yernon left the state-room,
and went aft to examine more particularly the means of
descent to the lower deck. As they approached Emily's
state-room, they perceived Henry puffing away at his second
cigar. Had it been any other person, Maxwell would not
have devoted a thought to him. It was he with -whom he
had fought the duel, — whom a mysterious providence seemed
to protect. Was he there by accident or design ?
The two confederates passed round the gallery, and returned
to the cabin. A long hour they waited, and the cabin clock
pointed to the hour of twelve ; still Henry had not changed
his position. His cigar was consumed, but there he sat like
a statue, obstinately obstructing the completion of Maxwell's
designs. The confederates began to fear he had some knowl¬
edge of their contemplated project. Yet how could this be 1
The plan had been arranged in the hold of the steamer. It
was impossible that any one, even the men they had hired
to row the boat, could know their intentions. Yernon, who
had seen the stolen bag of money miraculously restored to its
owner, who had seen two balls pass harmlessly through
him, was perfectly willing to believe that Henry Carroll
was the devil! But, devil or not, it was all the same to him.
It was already time to commence operations. Vernon was
impatient to begin; for, as he averred, he did not like to
lose a whole night's sleep in so small an affair. But nothing
could be done while Henry retained his present position,
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
183
unless they silenced him by force ; and he seemed an ugly
customer.
The Chalmetta pursued her way, stemming with difficulty,
as it would seem by her lazy pace, the current of the mighty
river. She had just passed Yicksburg. The night was dark
and gloomy. Those bright, beautiful moons, with which the
panorama-mongers are wont to gild the eddying current, and
solemnize the scenery with a pale loveliness, were not in the
ascendant. Even the bright stars were hid by the thick
clouds. The darkness cast a sad gloom over the scene, which
a few hours before had been " leaping in light, and alive with
its own beauty." The yellow bank rose high on either side
of the river, and formed a sombre wall, which seemed to keep
the sojourner on the tide a prisoner from the world above.
Yet, deep as was the darkness, and perilous as was "the
navigation of the river, the Chalmetta sluggishly pursued her
upward course, shunning sand-bars and snags which the
eye could not see, and which the stranger knew not of. Now
she crept, like a thief at night, so closely beneath the high
bank that her tall chimneys almost swept the overhanging
branches ; then, stealing from the treacherous shoal, she
sped her way through the middle of the vast waters, as if
ashamed of her former timidity. Here she shot through the
•narrow cut-off, and there left her foaming surge in the
centre of the broad expanse.
On board all was still, save the puffing blasts of steam,
which, at each stroke of the pistons, echoed through the
woods and over the plains. The cabin lights had long
been extinguished, and, from a distance, nothing could be
seen of her but the huge blazing furnaces, and the red signal
lantern, which was suspended over the boiler deck. The
firemen, just roused from their dream of comfort, no more
passed round the coarse jest, no more whistled "Boatman,
dance," but, like automata, threw the fuel into the roaring
furnaces. Occasionally, the startling note of the great bell
roused the deck-watch from his slumber, and he sang over
12
134
hatchie: a tale of the
again the monotonous song that told the pilot how far his
keel was from the sands below. Again the bell pealed a
heavy stroke, which indicated that the steamer was in free
water, and the leadsman settled himself for another nap.
The passengers, save those whom we have before noted,
were deep in the arms of Morpheus, rejoicing, no doubt, in
their dreams, over the many tedious hours they thus annihi¬
lated.
Wakeful and watchful, Henry Carroll still kept his post.
Ever present to his mind was the fair being over whose
safety his vigil was kept. Her image, clothed in all the
gorgeous fancies which the love-sick brain conjures up, spoke
in silver tones to his heart, and the melody of her voice
thrilled his soul. Descending from the dignity of the man, he
built childish air-castles, wherein he throned his idol, and
in a few fleeting moments squandered years of happiness by
her side. The perils of the past, the sternness of the present,
the responsibilities of the future, all faded away, and from
their ashes rose the bright empress of his soul.
This, we know, was all very foolish of him; but then it
must be remembered he was in lave, and men in love can
scarcely be called accountable beings.
Thus he dreamed, and thus he trod the fairy ground of
imagination, nor heeded the creaking timbers and the increas-'
ing rapidity of the puffs from the escape-pipe. To a man not
iatoxicated by the dream of young love these facts would
have indicated a great increase in the speed of the boat; but
he noticed them»not.
By the motions of the Chalmetta it was plain that, though
incapable of accomplishing any wonderful feat in the attain¬
ment of speed, she had a considerable amount of that com¬
modity somewhat vulgarly termed " spunk." As she passed
the mouth of the Yazoo river, another steamer, apparently
of her own calibre, rounded gracefully into the channel, from
a wood-yard. This boat — the Flatfoot, No. 3 — seemed, by
her straining and puffing, to throw the gauntlet to the Chal-
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
135
metta; a challenge, real or imaginary, which the latter
made haste to accept, — or, rather, her sleepy firemen did,
for, without leave or license, they crammed her furnaces to
their utmost capacity. The effects of this movement were
soon perceptible in every part of the boat, for she creaked
and groaned like a ship in a gale. But the Flatfoot, No. 3,
had the lead, and seemed to gain upon her rival, — a circum¬
stance which seemed to rouse the lethargic firemen of the
Chalmetta to the highest pitch of excitement, for they packed
the furnaces more closely still.
Maxwell saw, with much satisfaction, the prospect of a
race; not that he expected in this instance to enjoy the
excitement which, with " fast men," is consequent upon such
an occasion. He hoped it might distract the attention of the
person who, by accident or design, opposed the execution of
his purpose. He had sent Vernon to the cabin to watch the
movements of Henry, while he remained upon the main deck,
forward of the furnaces, to encourage the firemen in their
ambitious project of passing the other boat. Several barrels
of hams which lay upon the deck the apparently excited attor¬
ney ordered the firemen to throw into the furnaces, promising
to screen them from blame by paying the owner double their
value. The firemen, not blessed with an undue amount of
caution, willingly obeyed the order, and soon the boilers
hissed and groaned under the extraordinary pressure. The
engineers, roused from their slumbers, and entering at once
into the sport, secured the safety-valve in its place by attach¬
ing to the lever double the usual weight.
Still the person whom Maxwell wished to lure from his
post remained immovable. A few pitch-barrels were now
split up, and cast into the furnaces, which so increased the
pressure that the faithful safety-valve refused longer to
endure the curb placed upon the discharge of its function. It
was again secured, and the reckless firemen, urged on by
Maxwell and the engineers, still pressed the boat to its
destruction.
136
hatchie: a tale of the
The boilers, notwithstanding the tremendous pressure to
which they were subjected, still realized the expectations of
the confident engineers, and refused to be the agents of an
"awful calamity." But all exertion was of no avail; the
Flatfoot, No. 3, whose tall chimneys vomited forth a long
trail of flame, showing that she, too, was hard pressed, was
rapidly increasing her distance. Still the firemen plied the
furnaces, and again the engineers added more weight to the
lever of the safety-valve. The boilers were evidently pressed
to their utmost, the decks were hot, and her timbers creaked
and snapped as though they would drop out of her.
Hatchie had placed his party in the hold, one of which
was on the look-out at the hatchway. He saw the danger of
the steamer ; but all his friends were in the safest places the
boat afforded. It was an anxious hour for him ; but every¬
body was in peril, and there was no remedy.
Maxwell, whose excitement in the race was feigned, per¬
ceived that the boat was in imminent, danger. He had not
intended to carry the excitement quite so far. An explosion
was not exactly the thing he desired. It would not be suffi¬
ciently discriminating in its choice of victims. But the
firemen were too much excited to listen to reason; therefore
he proceeded, with Yernon, towards the extreme after part
of the boat. Passing round the gallery of the ladies' cabin,
they perceived that Henry had, at last, left his post. Such
was indeed the case. Boused from his abstraction by the
terrible anticipation of an explosion, he had gone forward to
reason with the pilots on the recklessness of their course in
allowing the boat to be so hard pressed.
" Now is our time," said Maxwell, in a whisper.
" Here goes, then!" replied "Vernon.
" Be careful that you do not injure her, — and bring her
clothes."
"Ay, ay! Have the boat ready quick, for, if I mistake
not, the sooner we are out of this boat the better."
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
137
The ruffian approached the door of Emily's state-room,
and was about to open it, when," with a noise louder than
the crashing of the thunderbolt, the starboard boiler ex¬
ploded, and the Chalmetta lay a shapeless wreck upon the
waters!
12*
138
hatchie: a tale of the
CHAPTER XIY.
" False world, thou ly'st; thou canst not lend
The least delight;
Thy favors cannot gain a friend,
They are so slight." Francis Quakles.
The traveller on the Mississippi observes with interest the
innumerable islands which dot the river, and relieve the mo¬
notony of the scenery. These islands are, for the most part,
covered with a luxurious growth of cotton-wood trees. They
have generally been formed by what are technically called
cut-offs, or new channels, from the main land. The mighty
torrent, scorning its own well-beaten track, ploughs a way
through the country, and returns to its channel miles below,
opening at once a new path for the voyager upon its tide.
The portion of land thus separated from the main shore is
often subdivided by the action of the waters into several smaller
islands. These islets are, however, oftener seen in isolated
positions, varying in area from a few square rods to several
acres. A remarkable feature of these islands is their
locomotive powers, — for, strange as it may seem, they annu¬
ally take a step down stream! Observation has shown a
change of position almost incredible.
The river, continually wearing upon the up-river side
of the island, washes the sands and soil to the lower side.
Thus, the situation of the island is actually changed. The
fact is clearly shown by the singular configuration of the
mass of trees growing upon them. The wood on the up¬
stream side of the island is of the largest size ; while that on
the down-stream side begins at the mere shrub, and, by a
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
139
regular gradation in height, like a pair of stairs, increases to
the altitude of the full-grown tree. Each successive year
places a new layer of soil upon the lower side, in which the
young tree takes root; and the growth of each year is dis¬
tinctly visible to the traveller as he ascends the river.
On one of these islands, above Yicksburg, was located a
neat cottage. The island differed in many respects from
others. Its area might have been eight or ten acres. On
one side of it was a narrow, but deep stream, which, enter¬
ing from the broad river, described a semi circle, and returned
its waters on the same side. On three sides, except at the
mouths of the little stream, the island was rendered inacces¬
sible by the high banks, while on the fourth side the shrubs
grew so luxuriantly as to be impervious, save to the most
resolute visitor. From the high banks which walled it in
the surface of the island sloped gradually towards a common
centre, through which rushed the little stream.
This little island had probably been a part of the main
land ; the river had forced its way through a valley, and, by
degrees, had worn down the high land on either side, till
they formed the precipices which now frowned on the visitor.
The little stream had, perhaps, once been a meandering rivu¬
let,— part of one which emptied into the river on the
opposite side.
On one of the sloping sides of the interior was situated the
cottage. It was small in size, containing but four rooms and
an attic, and was neatly painted white. Its location in the
valley concealed it from the main land, and from the travel¬
ler upon the river. It was accessible only by means of the
stream, which rolled by within a few rods of the door. A cow
♦ •
grazed in the woods, which had been partly cleared of under¬
brush,and had the appearance of a park grove. Near the
house a plot of land had been reduced to a state of cultiva¬
tion, upon which an old negro servant managed to raise veg¬
etables sufficient for the use of the family.
The interior of the cottage was neatly furnished, though
140
hatchie: a tale op the
with none of the gaudy trappings of fashion. Everything
was plain and useful. On the side fronting the stream,
which served the inmates as a highway, were two rooms, — a
library, which was also the sitting-room, and a sleeping
apartment. The library was far the most substantial and
comfortable-looking room in the house, inasmuch as it was
abundantly supplied with modern and classical lore. In the
middle was a large writing-desk, upon which lay sundry man¬
uscripts, apparently the last labor of the occupant. The books
and papers were all arranged with scrupulous neatness and
method.
The two rooms in the rear were the dining-room and
another sleeping apartment, while the attic was occupied by
the old negro and his wife, — the property of the proprietor,
and his only attendants upon the island. Back of the house,
as is the custom of the South, was a small building used as a
kitchen. Near it was another building, appropriated to the
use of the cow aforesaid.
In the stream in front of the cottage, fastened to a tree on
the bank, was a beautifully-modelled sail-boat, which was
worthy to rank with the miniature yachts of our large cities.
She was schooner-rigged, with a small cabin forward. Her
masts, by an ingenious contrivance, could be lowered down
aft, and, by means of a rope attached to the fore-top, and
running through a block on the bowsprit, could be instantly
restored to their original upright position. This arrangement
"the owner found necessary, on account of the overhanging
trees, which nearly concealed the two openings of the stream
into the river.
On the night of the Chalmetta's terrible disaster, a man
wrapped in a camlet cloak left the cottage, and approached
the landing-place. In one hand he carried a glass lantern,
and in the other a double-barrelled gun. Descending the
steps to the rude pier of logs, he drew the boat in-shore and
seated himself in the stern-sheets. Unloosing the stern-line,
which alone held her, the boat was borne on by the rapid
MISSISSIPPI AND TIIE SOUTH-WEST.
141
stream. The helm the occupant handled with a masterly
skill, and in a moment the little bark swept through the
half-hid opening into the broad river. Placing the helm
amid-ships, the man went forward, and, pulling the proper
line, brought the masts to their upright position. He then
inserted the iron keys which kept them in their place, and
hoisted the sails. By this time the boat had drifted to the
lower extremity of the island; so, bracing her sharp up, he
stood away across the river. Tacking before he reached the
swift channel, which flowed close in shore, he laid the boat's
course up the stream. The wind was blowing fresh, and,
notwithstanding the contending force of the current, the boat
careened to her task, and made very good progress through
the water. While the gallant little bark pursues her way, we
will introduce her skipper to the l-eader.
Dr. Yaudelier was about fifty years of age. He was
descended from one of the old French families of Louisiana:
and had been, for nearly thirty years, a practising physician
in the city of New Orleans, during which time he had accu¬
mulated a very handsome fortune. At the age of twenty-five
he had been married to a lady, whose only recommendations
were her personal beauty and her fashionable accomplish¬
ments. Her vanity had disgusted him, and her uncontrollable
temper had embittered to its very dregs the cup of his exist¬
ence. Being naturally of a gloomy and melancholy temper¬
ament, this unfortunate union had rendered his life almost
insupportable. Domestic happiness, to which he had looked
forward with high-wrought anticipations, proved, in his case,
to have no foundation.
He was disappointed. His dream of home and its blessings
faded away, and was supplanted by a terrible reality. He
grew more and more melancholy. But there was a solace,
which saved him from absolute misery. Two children —
a boy and a girl — blessed his otherwise unhallowed union.
The education of these children was the only joy his home
142
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
afforded ; but even this to his misanthropic mind could not
compensate for his matrimonial disappointment.
Years passed away; the son was sent to college, from
which, to the anguish of his father, he was expelled for
gross misconduct. The young man returned to New Orleans,
and became one of th£ most dissolute and abandoned charac¬
ters of the city. Dr. Yaudelier disowned him, and sunk
the deeper in his melancholy.
The death of his wife left him alone with his daughter;
and if the fatal influence of past years could have been re¬
moved, perhaps he might have been a happy man. The
daughter was a beautiful girl, and promised to realize all the
fond expectations of her father. Her daily education and
method of life, as directed by her father, were better calcu¬
lated to fit her for the occupancy of a nun's cell than for
rational society.
About five years previous to the time of our story, the
solemn quiet of Dr. Yaudelier's dwelling was disturbed by
the arrival of a young French gentleman, bearing letters of
introduction to the misanthropic physician. This gentleman
was delighted with the daughter of his host, and she expe¬
rienced a before unknown pleasure in his society. The doctor
was, to some extent, obliged to abandon the " pleasures of
melancholy," and accompany the young couple into the
world.
This intimacy between the young persons rapidly ripened
into love. ^£)r. Yaudelier's inquiries into the character and
circumstances of the young gentleman were not satisfac¬
tory, and he refused to sanction the union. Perhaps he was
influenced more in this decision by the dread of parting with
his daughter than by any other motive. The father's refusal
was followed by the elopement of the young couple, — an act
which blasted the only remaining hope of the misanthrope.
His heart was too sensitive to endure the shock.
Keduced to the depths of despair, suicide presented itself
as the only effectual remedy for his misfortunes. But the
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOTJTH-WEST.
143
church, to whose rites and promises he yielded the most
devoted reverence, doomed the suicide to eternal woe !
Society, into which for a brief period he had allowed him¬
self to be enticed, was ten-fold more distasteful to him than
before. He could not endure even that which the practice of
his profession demanded. The great city seemed a pandemo¬
nium, and he resolved to escape from its hated scenes.
He travelled up the river in search of seclusion, and acci¬
dentally had noticed the island upon which he afterwards
fixed his residence.
His abode upon the island was not entirely unknown to the
inhabitants of his vicinity; yet they seldom troubled him
with their presence. Steamers and flat-boats continually
passed his little domain; yet the traveller knew not that it
was occupied by human beings.
Dr. Vaudelier's pursuits were of the most simple nature.
He read and wrote nearly the whole day, and in the evening,
— often at the dead of night, — he would unmoor his yacht,
and stem the tide of the mighty river. His chief happiness
was in communion with nature. His solitary habits had
completely estranged him from society; and he chose the
night for his lonely excursions oh the river, to avoid the
presence of man.
Dr. Yaudelier was a benevolent man ; and his benevolence
was still his friend. It kept his heart from corroding, or be¬
coming entirely cold. His professional services he freely
gave to the poor " squatter," woodman and boatman, when¬
ever he could learn that they were needed. The old negro
made frequent visits to the shore to procure provisions and
other necessaries, and informed his master if any of his
indigent neighbors needed his aid. Dr. Yaudelier, as far as
he was known, was regarded with profound respect and affec¬
tion, and none were disposed to disturb his privacy when it
was understood that entire seclusion was his desire.
Dr. Yaudelier reclined on the cushions in the stern-sheets
of his boat. With an abstracted mind he gazed upon the
144
hatchie: a tale of tiie
gloomy outlines of the shore. Nature in this sombre dress
seemed in unison with the gloom of his own soul. Scarcely
conscious of his actions, he managed the boat with the most
consummate skill, avoiding the unseen shoal and the unfa¬
vorable current, but still never allowing the sails to shiver.
Far ahead of him he descried the blazing chimneys of a
steamer. It was night, and he was secure from the prying
gaze or the rude hail of the voyagers.
His reflections were gloomy. He reviewed his earlier
years. He thought of his affectionate daughter, who had
promised to be the stay of his declining years, perhaps at that
moment a wanderer and an outcast. He had heard nothing
of her since her departure. He had made no effort to ascer¬
tain her fate. He considered his whole coursejaf conduct to
her, the nature of the education he had imparted to her, the
example he had set for her imitation. His reflections were
not altogether satisfactory, and kindled a few compunctious
thoughts. The blame had not been all on the side of the
daughter. His misanthropic character was the origin of
some part of it.
Thus he mused, and thus dawned upon his mind the first
gleams of repentance. "His melancholy temperament had
caused the loss of his daughter; and, for the time, it grew
repugnant. He felt that he was not living the life his Maker
intended he should live.
His meditations were suddenly interrupted by a tremen¬
dous explosion, and he was at once satisfied that it proceeded
from the steamer he had before observed. His supposition
was soon verified by the flames he saw rising from the spot
where he had last seen her. She was, he judged, at least
three miles distant. His benevolent disposition, stimulated
by the reflection, and, perhaps, by some unconscious resolu¬
tion of the previous hour, prompted him to hasten to her
relief. Leaving the helm, he took from the little cabin a
stay-sail, and by the light of the lantern attached it to the
lines and hoisted it. The lively little craft, feeling the addi-
MISSISSIPPI AND TIIE SOUTH-WEST.
145
tional impulse, careened till her gunnel was nearly sub¬
merged, and cut her way with increased velocity through the
unfavorable current. Half an hour elapsed before he ap¬
proached near enough to make out the condition of the shat¬
tered steamer. Another steamer lay as near to her as the
flames, which had apparently been partly subdued, would
permit. Men were busily engaged in throwing on water, and
their efforts promised to be crowned with success, for the vol¬
ume of flame was rapidly decreasing. A line was passed
from the bow of the Chalmetta to the Flatfoot, No. 3 (for
these were the steamers), which enabled the latter to control
the drift of the former. Dr. Yaudelier was too far off, how¬
ever, to form a very correct idea of the casualty.
Portions of the wreck were floating by him, and occasion¬
ally his boat struck against a timber or cask. While anx¬
iously straining his vision, to ascertain further particulars of
the disaster, he heard a faint cry close ahead of him. By
the light of his lantern, which he had hung up by the fore¬
mast, to attract the eye of any sufferer who might need aid,
he saw a man clinging to a barrel floating by him. Hastily
letting go the halyards, the fore and main sails came down,
the boat was put about, and Dr. Yaudelier, with much exer¬
tion, succeeded in saving the almost dying sufferer. Convey¬
ing him to the cabin, which was of sufficient size to contain
two berths, he placed him upon one of them, and proceeded
to ascertain his ailments. These, as far as he could discover
them, consisted of a broken arm, a severe contusion of the
head, and several severe scalds. The wounded man's
endeavors to aid in his own rescue had been too violent, and
on being placed in the berth he had fainted. After adminis¬
tering such rfelief as he was able, he returned to the stern-
sheets, hoisted the sails, and the boat, which had been drift¬
ing down-stream, again approached the wreck.
The flames of the Chalmetta were now extinguished. Be¬
fore the benevolent physician could reach her, the Flatfoot
had taken her in tow, and both were rapidly leaving him.
13
146
hatchie: a tale of the
further pursuit was useless ; so, taking in the stay-sail, he
put the boat about, and again turned his attention to the
sufferer.
The boat's progress, assisted by the current, was very
rapid, -and she soon reached the island. The experienced eye
of her manager discerned through the darkness the narrow
opening of the little stream. Taking in the sails and lower¬
ing the masts, the little craft glided through the rivulet, and
in less time than is taken to relate it was securely moored
in front of the cottage. The old negro, bewildered by the
unseasonable summons, assisted in conveying the wounded
stranger to the cottage.
Dr. Yaudelier, after a more thorough examination of his
patient than he had been able to make before, was pleased
to find that his wounds, though serious, were not of a dan¬
gerous character. He set the broken arm, and, by the exer¬
cise of the great skill for which he had been distinguished,
restored him to consciousness, and made sure his future
recovery.
" Where is she ? Is she safe ?" murmured the sufferer, as
his returning consciousness afforded a partial knowledge of
his condition. " Where am I ?"
" You are among friends, sir, — among friends. Do not
distress yourself," replied the doctor, in a soothing tone.
" Where is she ? Great God ! what has become of her?"
exclaimed the wounded man, with startling energy.
" You must be quiet, sir, or you will injure your arm,"
said Dr. Yaudelier, mildly restraining the excited man.
" 0, Emily, Emily !" groaned the sufferer. " Why did I
leave you 1 Why did we not perish together ?"
" Be calm, sir, — be calm ! You have lost a friend in this
terrible disaster V'
" I have. O that I could have died with her!"
" Are you sure she has perished ?"
" She could scarcely have survived the explosion."
"Was she not in the ladies' cabin?"
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
147
" She -was."
" Then probably she is safe. The ladies' cabin was
thrown from its position; but it appeared to be compara¬
tively but little shattered. The forward cabin was blown
entirely in pieces."
"Thank God for this intelligence!" ejaculated Henry
Carroll, — for the reader has already discovered that it was
he whom the doctor had rescued.
" Another steamer was close at hand, so that probably
most of the ladies were saved, unless, as is often the case,
they jumped overboard in their fright."
" Heaven protect her !" exclaimed Henry.
<£ But, sir, I must insist on perfect quiet. Your con¬
dition imperatively demands it. To-morrow everything shall
be done to relieve your anxiety. We shall then receive
Vicksburg papers, which will contain the names of all who
are lost."
" I will try to be quiet, but I cannot but be anxious till I
know the whole truth."
Dr. Vaudelier again applied a soothing balm to the scalded
portions of. his body, and gave him a powerful narcotic, the
effects of which were soon visible in a deep, troubled slumber.
148
HATCHIE : A TALE 01? THE
CHAPTER XV.
" But thou, a wretched, base, false, worthless coward !
All eyes must shun thee, and all hearts detest thee.
Prythee avoid, nor longer cling thus round me,
Like something baneful, that my nature's chilled at."
Oxway.
In a small log-cabin, a few miles above " Cottage Island,"
reposing upon a rude bed, on the morning of the Chalmetta's
disaster, was a young and beautiful female. She was pale
and in tears, evidently suffering the most excruciating mental
agony. An old woman, from whose bosom her half-civilized
mode of life had not entirely banished those refined sympa¬
thies which belong by intuition to her sex, was vainly striv¬
ing to impart comfort.
" You ought to be thankful, ma'am, that you wan't blowed
up, with the rest of the poor people," said she, kindly,
attempting to turn the lady's attention from her absorbing
misery.
" I had rather a thousand times have perished than fallen
into the hands of the villain who rescued me," replied Emily,
— it was she, —with a shudder.
" 0, ma'am, they shan't hurt a hair of your head. My old
man would n't see such a good cretur as you hurt, for all the
world."
" Alas ! I fear his power will not avail against this hard¬
ened villain."
" Never you fear, ma'am ! Two sich popinjays as them
couldn't skeer my Jerry, nohow. Besides, my son, Jim,
will be back in an hour or two."
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
149
" I fear they cannot aid me."
"Yes, they can. My Jerry alone would turn 'em inside
out, if they are sarcy."
" I can scarcely hope the villains—"
"Softly, lady, softly! do not be harsh!" said Maxwell,
entering the apartment in which Emily was, and which was
the only one the cabin contained.
"Mr. Maxwell," said Emily, rising, "if you have any
mercy, or pity for my misfortunes, let me be left alone."
" I would not injure you, Miss Dumont," replied Maxwell,
in a gentle tone. " I would see you in safety at your desti¬
nation. Mr. Yernon has been two hours absent, in search of
a carriage."
'' A carriage ! For what 1''
" To convey you to a steamboat-landing."
" Bless your heart, sir! you need n't go a step for that.
My Jerry will hail the very next one that passes the wood-
yard," suggested the old lady.
"Silence, old woman!" said Maxwell, sternly, for he
feared the dame would increase Emily's distrust of him.
"Don't old-woman me, you puppy! I know what's
what!" responded the dame, sharply, for her temper was
not exactly angelic ; " it's my opinion you don't mean this
lady any good. Let me tell you, aforehand, you can't cut
any of your didoes here !"
" Silence, woman ! when I need your help I will ask it. I
propose, Miss Dumont, to convey you to Yicksburg, where
you can be comfortably accommodated until a steamer arrives
which will take you to Cincinnati. It may be several days,
you are aware."
"Several days!" exclaimed the mistress of the cabin;
" who ever heerd of such a thing! There '11 be one along
afore the day is out.'"
" For Cincinnati?" sneered Maxwell, who found the old
woman's tongue a very formidable weapon.
" I dare say there will," responded the dame.
13*
150
HATCHIE : A TALE OP THE
" It is extremely uncertain, Miss JDumont. We came in
the last one, and it is scarcely possible, at this season,
another followed immediately. But here is the carriage."
"Mr. Maxwell, I shall positively refuse to accompany
you," said Emily, in a most decided tone. "This good
woman, I doubt not, will accommodate me."
" That I will," promptly responded the dame.
" I am sorry, Miss Dumont, I cannot, in this instance,
yield to your wishes. I must insist on your company to
Vicksburg," said Maxwell, striving, by a supercilious man¬
ner, to keep down his angry passions.
" By what right, sir, do you insist upon it? I was not
aware that you were invested with any legal control over
me."
" Then you are mistaken. I act upon undoubted author¬
ity."
" Indeed, sir, are you my guardian?" said Emily, shudder¬
ing at the thought of the will.
" Not technically a guardian. My authority is a little
more definite."
" I do not understand you, sir."
"It is immaterial. Perhaps you had better go with me
peaceably, however," said Maxwell, with a carelessness for¬
eign to his feelings.
" That, sir, I never will do alive !" replied Emily, surmis¬
ing the nature of the attorney's assumed authority. " Mr.
Maxwell, you have taught me to believe that you are a hard¬
ened villain, and I command you, leave my presence!"
The indignation of Emily was roused, and she spoke with
a flashing eye, and with an imperativeness which her wrongs
alone could have called to her aid,
" That was very prettily done, lady; but I cannot obey.
It is useless to multiply words. You must go with me and
Maxwell extended his hand.
Emily recoiled from the proffered hand; her brow lowered,
and her lips compressed. She regarded him with a look of
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
151
ineffable scorn, — a look before which even Maxwell, pene¬
trated, as he was, with evil purposes, quailed.
" Go along, now, about your business, and don't bother
the lady any more!" said the old woman, taking advantage
of the momentary silence.
m" Miss Dumont, I once more ask you to go with me peace¬
ably," said Maxwell, not heeding the dame's remark.
" And once more I answer, I will not!"
" I should be sorry to use compulsion. Do you forget your
condition?"
" I do not," replied Emily, with a tremor, but without
the loss of her self-possession. "Iam of the best blood of
Louisiana."
" But still a slave! "
" Good gracious !" exclaimed the hostess.
" I am not a slave ! You know this is the plot of a villain
like yourself. The true will has been found."
"Indeed! Is it here1?" said Maxwell, with a sneer, for
while he had Emily in his power he feared nothing.
" No ; but it shall be brought forth in due season."
" Until which time you are a slave ; and not only a slave,
but my slave," replied Maxwell, with perfect coolness, as he
drew from his pocket-book the forged bill of sale.
" Great God, desert me not in this hour of my afflictions !"
groaned Emily. This last revelation entirely unnerved her,
and exposed in a more terrible light her appalling^ position.
She doubted not the paper she saw in Maxwell's hands was a
Mil of sale of her person, and that it would establish his
claim; for his present purposes seemed too flagrant to be pur¬
sued without good authority. Her features, dress and lan¬
guage, she felt, would be no safeguards. She had seen slave-
girls as fair and white as herself. She had heard of those
who, with scarcely a drop of negro blood in their veins, were
educated to pander to the appetite of depravity. She had
seen them in the streets of New Orleans, in no manner differ-
152
HATCHLE .* A TALE OP TUB
ing in appearance from the best-born ladies. Her situation,
then, was an awful one.
"Will you read this paper?" continued Maxwell.
"No; like the will, it is a forgery!" replied Emily,
determined to die rather than yield herself to the guidance
of the attorney.
" It gives me an undeniable right to your person, and you
must obey me. The carriage waits in the road."
" Mr. Maxwell, if you have a particle of honor left, or if
even a shadow of pity rests in your heart, leave me, and
finish your despicable persecution !" said Emily, in a plead¬
ing tone.
" I have both honor and pity; but I cannot abandon my
purpose. You refused to trust to my honor, refused to re¬
ceive the offered hand, which would lead you back to the
home you have left. I would fain have averted the calamity
you are madly courting; but you would not. I humbly
prayed to be allowed to step between you and your uncle's
avarice; but you would not. I would willingly have pre¬
vented the accomplishment of your uncle's plans ; but —"
" Then you own that it is a plot V
" I acknowledge nothing."
" But you know it is a base trick V
"It is not for me to say. The law will be satisfied. I
have offered to do all I could for you, and you have refused.
You appeal to my pity. Pity! did you pity me when I would
have been your willing slave, — when I pleaded for the hope
you have ruthlessly crushed?"
" I did pity you; but I could not help you. I could not
then, and I cannot now, give my hand where my heart is unin¬
terested. I feared you then, as I despise you now. Report
said your character was not entirely free from stain, and you
are now striving to demonstrate the truth of the rumors,"
said Emily, whose contempt would not be concealed.
"Report may have belied me," replied Maxwell, strug¬
gling with his violent passions. " But we are wasting time.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
153
Proceed with me to Vicksburg, and I pledge you my honor
you shall not be injured or insulted."
" Your honor!" said Emily, bitterly. "It is but a poor
dependence for an unprotected female."
" Gently, Miss Dumont! Do not rouse the demon within
me by such taunts."
" I fear the worst demon of your nature is already in the
ascendency."
" Enough! Will you go, or will you not?" said Maxwell,
impatiently.
" I will not!"
" Then I must claim you as my slave, — do not start! —
and compel you."
" Bond or free, I will not stir from beneath this roof with
you," replied Emily, with calm resolution. All hope, if she
had cherished any, was gone. Silently she breathed a
prayer for strength and meekness to endure all; for fortitude
to enable her to struggle till death with the oppression of her
enemy; and for courage to meet any emergency in which
her lot might be cast.
It must be done! I will hesitate no longer !" said Max¬
well, seizing Emily by the arm.
" Look here, you varmint, that won't do here !" exclaimed
the mistress of the house, who, much against her inclina¬
tion, had remained silent during the past fifteen minutes.
" It shan't be said that Jerry Swinger's ruff could n't protect
a stranger.''
" But, woman, she is my property," answered Maxwell,
not a little intimidated by the ferocious aspect of the matron.
" Do not believe him, good woman, do not believe him!"
exclaimed Emily, as she saw the woman was a little staggered
by the attorney's claim.
" No, ma'am, I won't believe him," responded Mrs. Swing¬
er, as her heart triumphed over the argument of the lawyer.
" It matters little whether you believe me or not. Here is
154
HATCHIE : A TALE OP THE
the bill of sale, and, in the name of the law, I take what is
mine."
The hostess was not a little perplexed by the document,
and Emily observed, with terror, that she wavered in her
purpose.
"It is a gross forgery!" exclaimed Emily, with a glance
of earnest pleading, which the rough but kind-hearted woman
could not resist.
" I don't care nothin' about your bill of sale! The gal is
safe," said Mrs. Swinger, with emphasis.
Maxwell, resolving to execute his design, again seized
Emily by the arm, and was on the point of hurrying her out
of the cabin.
Mrs. Swinger was a stout, masculine woman, brought up
in the woods, and never fainted in her life, even in presence
of an alligator or a panther. So she had no scruples in seizing
Mr. Maxwell by the nape of the neck, and giving him a kind
of double twist, which sent him reeling into the corner of the
cabin.
"I '11 teach you to put your hands upon an onprotected
female, you varmint, you !" said she, and, going to the door,
she screamed " Jerry " three times, with a voice that would
have done honor to a Stentor.
" Now, stranger," said she, elevating her tall form to its
full height, and, with a gesture like a queen of the Amazons,
pointing to the door, " take yourself off, or my Jerry will tote
you down to the river, and drown you like a kitten !"
Mrs. Swinger's arm fell like a tragic heroine's, and she
stood proudly contemplating the object of her wrath, perhaps
hoping the attorney would await the arrival of " her Jerry,"
in whose prowess she. seemed to place unlimited confidence.
Vernon, who was waiting near the vehicle he had procured,
heard the loud and angry-words of the excited dame, and
now approached the house to ascertain the cause of the con¬
fusion. This redoubtable worthy had received the reward of
his villany, and considered the deed accomplished; but he
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
155
had no objection to a little excitement. A fight was his
element, and he never let slip an opportunity to join in one.
• The worthy Jerry Swinger, the good woman's beau ideal
of a man, reached the cabin at the moment Yernon entered.
Maxwell had now the alternative of abandoning his cov¬
eted prize, or of fighting for it. The first he would not do;
and the second, with the wound he had received in the duel,
was not an easy matter. The latter, however, he determined
upon. Drawing from his pocket a revolver, he again ap¬
proached Emily.
" "What's all this about?" said Jerry, as he entered the
cabin.
" Save me, sir, — save me from these villains !" exclaimed
Emily, whose piteous accents penetrated the heart of the
honest woodman.
" That I will, ma'am. Why, you infarnal, sneakin' whelp
of an alligator, whar "s your conscience'? But you've run
agin a snag, and you shan't make another bend, this trip ; so
sheer off! Suke, jest fotch out my rifle, thar."
Mrs. Swinger, before the assailants could prevent it, un¬
hung the rifle, and was about to present it to her husband,
when Maxwell pointed his pistol at her, and said, " Move
another inch, woman, and I will fire!"
" Look here, stranger," said Jerry, approaching the attor¬
ney, " if you touch that trigger, I '11 pull your heart out!"
Yernon saw that his time had come, and, grappling with
the woodman, they both fell upon the mud floor of the
cabin.
Maxwell, his pistol still pointed at the woman, advanced
a step, with the intention of taking the rifle from her. Mrs.
Swinger, perceiving his purpose, elevated the rifle_ to her
shoulder as gracefully as the most accomplished Kentuckian
would have done, and fired. But her aim was bad; the ball
passed through the attorney's hat. It came near enough,
however, to rouse his passion, and, without a moment's delib¬
eration, which might have saved him the reproach of shooting
156
hatchie: a tale of tiie
a woman, he fired. His aim, better than his feminine oppo¬
nent's had been, sent the ball through her side, and she fell.
Emily, filled with horror by the sanguinary scene, sprung to
Mrs. Swinger's aid, as she fell.
" Look here, you cussed villain," said Jerry Swinger, who,
in the struggle, had got his antagonist under him, and had
drawn from his pocket a long clasp-knife," if you stir an inch,
I '11 put this blood-sucker through your shrivelled-up giz¬
zard !''
Vernon attempted to rise, bowie-knife in hand, to the
conflict. Jerry Swinger was about to put his threat in execu¬
tion, when Maxwell, released, by the fall of the woman, from
danger in that quarter, struck him a heavy blow upon the
head with the pistol in his hand. The woodman sunk back,
with a groan, and Vernon, rising from his fallen posture, was
about to plunge the knife to his heart, when a new actor
appeared upon the stage. The blade of Vernon was arrested
in its deadly descent, and a single blow from the fist of the
new-comer laid the black-leg prostrate by the side of the
woodman. Maxwell was thrown off his guard by the sudden¬
ness of the new assailant's movements, and, before he could
raise his pistol, — his only dependence, — it was wrested from
him. The new-comer threw the pistol down, and, seizing
the attorney by the neck, and applying a smart blow with
the knee upon his back, he brought him to the floor. Taking
a cord which hung on the cabin wall, he bound the fallen
man hand and foot, and dragged him out of the cabin. Plac¬
ing his back against a tree, he lashed him firmly to its trunk.
Leaving the chop-fallen attorney to mature his plans, the
conqueror returned to the hut.
"0, Hatchie, Hatchie! you have again saved me!" ex¬
claimed Emily, as she saw her deliverer reenter. " Thank
God ! I am safe, though at what a terrible sacrifice!"
She had, in her terror, obtained but a very imperfect idea of
the exciting scene which had transpired before her. When she
saw Vernon fall, and then Maxwell, she realized that she was
MISSISSIPPI AND TIIE SOUTH-WEST.
157
safe. "With an effort, — for her excited nerves had taken away
her strength, — she rose from her position on the floor, by the
side of her lifeless hostess. At this moment Hatchie entered,
and, with a heart full of gratitude, she grasped his hand.
"0, Hatchie ! what do I not owe you for this service!"
"I am so happy to serve you, Miss Emily!" replied
Hatchie, rejoiced to hear again his mistress' voice.
" You have been my best friend in this season of adversity.
Without you, I had been lost forever. But let us do what
we may for these poor people, who have, I fear, sacrificed
their lives in my defence."
The inanimate form of Mrs. Swinger was placed upon the
bed by Hatchie, and, while Emily endeavored to ascertain the
nature of her wound, the mulatto examined into Jerry's
condition. The'worthy woodman had^>nly been stunned by
the blow, and Hatchie's vigorous application soon restored
him to consciousness. "With the assistance of the mulatto,
he rose. Looking wildly around him, he discovered the form
of Vernon upon the floor. This seemed to recall his recollec¬
tion of the events of the hour.
" "Whar's Suke V said he.
Then perceiving her outstretched form upon the bed, he
calmly, but very sorrowfully, asked, " Is she dead?"
" No, thank God ! she is not dead ; but I fear she is badly
injured," replied Emily, who was still bending over the suf¬
ferer.
The woodman approached the bed-side, and, oberving the
faint breathing which gently heaved her chest, he seemed
comforted.
" "Whar 's the wound?" asked he, in a melancholy tone.
" In her side," replied Emily; " the bullet seems to have
penetrated the region below the heart."
" Poor gal! I'm feered it's all up with her. She has been
a good woman to me."
"Iam afraid my visit to your house will prove a sad day
to you, even if she recovers," said Emily, in a sad tone.
14
158
hatchie: a tale of thk
" No, stranger, no ! Suke would have died any day to save
a neighbor from miseryand the woodman's eyes filled with
tears at the remembrance of his humble companion's virtues.
" But let us hope for the best. Is there a physician in the
vicinity 1''
" Ay, stranger, there is one that sometimes helps the poor
folks about here."
" Then, Hatchie, you can go for him."
" Stop a little! The doctor is an oncommon strange man,
and lives on an island down the bend."
" I will go for him," said Hatchie.
'' I dar say; but whar you gwine 1 that's the pint. No¬
body can find the way that warn't there before. My son,
Jim, will soon be here."
" But we must be as speedy as possible," suggested Emily.
The arrival of the woodman's son terminated the difficulty.
It was arranged that Hatchie should go with him, to assist
in rowing back.
As they were about to depart, Vernon showed signs of
returning life, and Hatchie conveyed him to an out-building
till a more convenient season, and then dismissed the negro
and his vehicle, which had been brought to convey Emily to
Yicksburg.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
159
CHAPTER XVI.
" Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell;
Then shrieked the timid, and stood still the brave ;
Then some leaped overboard with dreadful yell,
As eager to anticipate their grave." Byron.
"We left the Chalmetta in a situation which demands expla¬
nation.
Emily retired to her state-room on that dreadful night
entirely relieved from the distressing anticipations which had
before oppressed her. Her name and her home were virtually
restored to her. The foul stain upon the honor of her father
had been removed. Doubt and fear scarcely disturbed her ;
the battle yet to be fought seemed but a trifle. Maxwell had
said her uncle was left at a wood-yard. This was strange.
It looked not like an accident, but the doing of the wily
attorney ; and perhaps Jaspar had voluntarily withdrawn;
perhaps her uncle had made her the reward of Maxwell's
silence. But these reflections were now robbed of their bit¬
terness. She felt that in Henry Carroll she had a sufficient
protection.
She retired to her state-room with a light heart, and even
Maxwell's villanous designs were forgotten as she revelled
in the bright hopes before her. She knew nothing of the foul
plot which had been concocted for her abduction. She knew
not that Henry Carroll was then watching over her. In bliss¬
ful ignorance of the danger that hovered near her, she sunk
into the quiet sleep of innocence.
After midnight her slumbers were disturbed by the unusual
creaking of the boat, and the hasty puffs of steam from the
160
iiatchie: a tale of the
escape-pipes. She awoke, and was at once sensible of the
immense pressure to which the boilers were subjected.
Awhile she lay and listened to the ominous sounds which
indicated the danger of the boat; then, much alarmed, she
rose and dressed herself. For nearly an hour she sat in the
darkness of the room, during which time the danger seemed
momentarily to increase, until, no longer able to endure such
agonizing suspense, she was about to leave the room. At this
moment Yernon was about to enter, when the explosion took
place.
The forward part of the Chalmetta was completely torn in
pieces. The gentlemen's cabin was lifted from its supports,
and torn into fragments. The unfortunate occupants of berths
in this part of the boat were either instantly killed or
severely wounded. The ladies' cabin, being at a greater dis¬
tance from the immediate scene of the explosion, had not
suffered so severely. Although torri^from its position, and
shattered by the shock, it had provecf'futal to but a few of its
occupants, who had been crushed by falling timbers. The
hull of the boat was not injured by the explosion, but before
those who had escaped a sudden death could recover their
disordered faculties, the flames began to ascend from the
wreck of the cabin, which had been precipitated upon the
furnaces.
The scene surpassed description. The groans of the
wounded and scalded, the shrieks of those who were on the
boat, expecting every moment to be carried down in her,
mingled in wild confusion on the midnight air. Fortunately
the passengers were mostly soldiers, accustomed to scenes of
horror, who immediately turned their attention to the extin¬
guishing of the flames. The Flatfoot, No. 3, approached
within a short distance of the wreck, and a line was passed
from -her to the bow of the Chalmetta. Her passengers and
crew were humanely assisting in rescuing those who had
jumped or been thrown overboard in the disaster.
By the aid of a fire-engine on board of the Flatfoot, which
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
161
had approached near enough to render it available, the flames
were extinguished.- It was ascertained that the Chalmetta
had received no serious damage in her hull; and as all the
survivors had been picked up, the Flatfoot took her in tow,
and proceeded up the river.
Emily had been stunned by the explosion, and ere she
could recover, Vernon, with a strong artn, bore her to the
main deck. The boat was lowered into the water, and,
before the passengers, or the petrified watch in the hold,
could regain their self-possession, it was impelled by the
strong arm of Yernon, and the ruffian who had been hired
for the purpose, far astern of the wreck.
The main deck was enveloped in clouds of steam, so that,
when Yernon had handed Emily down, the movement could
not be seen by Hatchie and his friends in the hold. In
another instant the wreck of the cabins came tumbling
down.
Hatchie, understanding at once the nature of the calamity,
made his way, as well as he was able, through the shattered
ruins to the stern, where he discovered that the boat was gone.
The flames from the forward part of the boat now enabled
him to discover the abductors of Emily rowing down the
river. Leaping into the water, he seized a door, which was
floating near him, and thus enabled to sustain himself with
tolerable ease, he swam after them.
Emily, on recovering from the shock, found herself reclin¬
ing on the shoulder of a man in an open boat. The first
impulse of her pious heart was to return thanks to the Al¬
mighty preserver that she had been rescued from a ter¬
rible death. Her thoughts then turned to her deliverer, for
such she supposed was the person in the boat with her.
Who was he? Was it Henry Carroll 1 She hoped it was.
She raised her head from the position in which Maxwell had
placed it, and endeavored to distinguish his features; but
the darkness defeated her wish.
" Fear nothing, lady ; you are safe," said Maxwell.
14*
1G2
hatchie: a tale op the
The voice was like the knell of doom. It grated harshly
upon her ears, and gave rise to a thousand fears in her timid
heart.
" Thank God, I am safe !" said she, after a pause.
" And I thank God I have been the means of preserving
you," replied Maxwell, willing to render the terrible calam¬
ity an accessory t<5 his crime.
" But why do you go this way ?" asked Emily, as she saw
the Flatfoot approach the wreck.
" I only wish to convey you from the scene of danger."
" Then why not go to that steamer V'
" Probably she is by this time converted into a hospital
for the sufferers. I would not shock your delicate nerves
with such a scene of woe and misery as will be on board of
her."
" May we not render some assistance?"
"No doubt there are more assistants than can labor to
advantage now."
Emily was silent, but not satisfied. Her fears in some
measure subsided, when, about two miles below the scene of
the disaster, Maxwell ordered the boat to be put in at a wood-
yard. The attorney was all gentleness, and assisted her to
the cabin of Jerry Swinger, the owner of the wood-yard.
Hatchie had been able, by severe exertion, to keep within
hearing of the splashing oars. The current fortunately car¬
ried him near the wood-yard, and, aided by the sounds he
heard at the cabin, and by the boat which he saw, he con¬
cluded the party had landed there. Letting go the door, a
few vigorous strokes brought him to the shore. Approach¬
ing the cabin, he satisfied himself that his mistress had taken
shelter there. Concealing himself in the woods, he awaited
with much anxiety the next movement of the attorney. In
the morning he heard the noise at the cabin, and had been
the rfteans of saving his mistress from a calamity far more
dreadful than death itself.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
163
On the evening of the day of the explosion, an elderly gen¬
tleman sat in a private apartment of one of the principal
hotels in Vicksburg, attentively reading an " Extra," in
which the particulars of the disaster were detailed. He
read, with little apparent interest, the account, until he came
to the names of " Saved, Killed, "Wounded and Missing." An
expression of the deepest anxiety settled upon his counte¬
nance. He finished reading the list of survivors, and a tran¬
sient feeling of satisfaction was visible on his face. When
in the list of the " missing" he read the name of " Miss
Dumont, Antoine De Guy and Henry Carroll," a smile as of
glutted revenge and malignant hatred dispelled the cloud of
anxiety which had before brooded over his features. Throw¬
ing down the sheet, he drank off a glass of brandy, which had
been waiting his pleasure on the table. The potion was not
insignificant in quantity or strength, and the wry face he
made did not add to the amiability of his expression. As the
dose permeated his brain, and produced that agreeable light¬
ness which is the first phase of intoxication, he rubbed his
hands with childish delight, and half muttered an expres¬
sion of pleasure.
Suddenly his countenance assumed its former lowering'
aspect, his brows knit, and his lips compressed.
" Missing !" muttered he. " What the devil does missing
mean? What can it mean but dead, defunct, gone to a bet¬
ter world, as the canting hypocrites say ?"
But we will not attempt to record the muttered soliloquy
of the gentleman, — Jaspar Dumont, who had reached Vicks¬
burg that day, from the wood-yard where we left him. It
was too profane, too sacrilegious, to stain our page.
Grasping the bell-rope with a sudden energy, as though a
new thought had struck him, he gave it a violent pull, which
brought to his presence a black waiter.
"Has the Dragon returned?" asked Jaspar.
" Yes, sar, jus got in, Massa."
" Is there any person in the house who went up in her V
164
HATCHIE: A TALE OP THE
"Yes, massa, one gemman in de office."
" Who is he?"
" Massa — massa—" and the darkey scratched his head,
to stimulate his memory, which act instantly brought the
name to his mind.
" Massa Lousey
" Mister what, you black scoundrel!"
" Yes, sar, — Massa Lousey; dat's de name."
" Lousey?" repeated Jaspar.
" Stop bit," said the waiter, a new idea penetrating his
cranium. " Dar Lousey, dat's de name, for sartin."
" Dalhousie," responded Jaspar. " Give my compliments
to Mr. Dalhousie, and ask him to oblige me with a few
moments' conversation in this room."
• "Yes, sar;" and the waiter retired, muttering, "Dar
Lousey."
The Dragon was a small steamer, which had been sent,
on the intelligence of a " blow up," to obtain the particulars
for the press, and render assistance to the survivors. Dal¬
housie was a transient visitor at the hotel, and, with many
others, had gone in the Dragon to gratify his curiosity.
" Sorry to trouble you, sir," said Jaspar, as the gentleman
entfered the apartment; " but I am much interested in the
fate of several persons who were passengers on board the
Ohalmetta."
" No trouble, Mr. Dumont, I am extremely happy to serve
you," replied Dalhousie, whose obsequious manners were
ample evidence of his sincerity.
" My niece was on board of her," continued Jaspar, " and
I see her name in the list of missing."
" Your niece!" replied Dalhousie, emphasizing the latter
word. He had a few days before come from New Orleans,
and had there heard of the startling developments in the
Dumont family.
" No matter,^' returned Jaspar, sharply ; " she went by
the name of Dumont. Did you find any bodies ?"
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
165
"We picked up the remains of six men and two females."
" Can you describe the females? How were they dressed?"
asked Jaspar, in an -excited manner.
" One was dressed in black. The other had on a common
calico."
" But the one in black, — describe her, — her hair, — was
she tall or short?" interrupted Jaspar, hurriedly.
" Her hair was in curie. She was apparently about twenty-
six or seven, and rather short in stature."
" Curls," muttered Jaspar ; " she has not worn curls since
the colonel died. She may have put them on again to please
that infernal Captain Carroll. Twenty-six years old, you
think?"
" She may have been younger. Her features were terribly
mangled," and Mr. Dalhousie cast a penetrating glance at
Jaspar, as though he would read out the beatings of his
black heart.
Jaspar considered again the description, and, though it
did not correspond to his niece's, his anxiety had contributed
to warp his judgment. He was very willing to believe the
Chalmetta's fatal disaster had forever removed the only
obstacle to the gratification of his ambition, and the only
source of future insecurity. He paced the room, muttering, in
his abstraction, sundry broken phrases.
Dalhousie watched him, and endeavored to obtain the pur¬
port of his disjointed soliloquy. A stranger, without some
strong motive, could scarcely have had so much interest in
him as he appeared to have.
" Had she any jewels — ornaments of any kind ?" asked
Dalhousie, after the silence had grown disagreeable to him.
" She had," replied Jaspar, stopping suddenly in his per¬
ambulation of the room, and speaking with an eagerness
which betrayed his anxiety to obtain more evidence. "Were
any found upon her person?"
" You are a man of honor, Mr. Dumont, and, if I disclose
to you a thoughtless indiscretion of my own, you will not, of
166
IIATCHIE: A TALE OF THE
course, expose me ?" said Dalhousie, with hesitation, and
apparent want of confidence.
" Of course not," replied Jaspar, impatiently. *' What has
this to do with the matter?"
" Did your niece wear a ring ?"
" Yes, a mourning ring."
" Do you know the ring? Could you identify it?"
" Certainly," replied Jaspar, who remembered haying seen
an ornament of this description on the finger of Emily.
" Will you describe it to me, if you please ?"
But Jaspar had reckoned without his host. The details of
a piece of jewelry were matters entirely foreign to his taste.
However, he succeeded in giving a description, which, from
its general terms, might have applied to one mourning ring
as well as another.
"Is this the one?" asked Dalhousie, with an anxiety
which he could scarcely conceal, as he produced a ring.
" That is it," replied Jaspar, confidently ; and the jewel
did bear some resemblance to that worn by Emily.
" But where did you obtain this ?"
" I must insist on the most inviolable secrecy."
" Certainly, certainly," said Jaspar, eagerly.
" I will disclose the particulars only on the condition that
you pledge yourself never to reveal my agency in the mat¬
ter ; for it would compromise my character."
" Very well. I pledge you my honor," replied Jaspar,
impatiently. " You took it from the corpse of the lady in
black."
" I did, and you must be aware that such an act would sub¬
ject me to inconvenience, if known."
" Don't be alarmed ; your secret is safe."
" But are you sure this is the ring worn by your niece?"
" It looks like itbut Jaspar was perplexed with a doubt.
He bethought himself that it was only in a casual glance he
had observed Emily's ring. He had never examined it, and,
after all, this might not be the one. There was certainly
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
167
nothing strange in any lady dressed in black wearing a
mourning ring. Again he turned the ring over and over, add
scrutinized it closely. His finger touched a spring, and the
plate flew up, disclosing a small lock of gray hair, twined
around the single letter D.
" I will swear to it now," exclaimed Jaspar, in a tone
which betrayed the malicious joy he felt at the discovery.
He was perfectly satisfied now of the identity of the ring.
It never occurred to him that D stood for any other name
than Dumont.
" This appears to be decisive evidence," replied Dalhousie.
" Your niece, then, must be the person brought down by the
Dragon."
" Without doubt."
" As this matter, then, is settled to your satisfaction—"
" Sir!" exclaimed Jaspar.
" I beg your pardon," resumed Dalhousie, with a super¬
cilious air ; "I only meant that your mind was satisfied —
relieved from a painful anxiety."
u A very painful anxiety," replied Jaspar.
" I understand, sir, you own a large plantation."
"WeH."
" Perhaps you need an overseer?"
Jaspar acknowledged that he did need an overseer.
" I should be happy to make an engagement with you,"
said the other, in complaisant tones.
" I don't think you would suit me. You are too genteel, by
half," returned Jaspar, bluntly.
" I have been in a better position, it is true. I was born
in France, but I understand the business."
" Did you ever manage a gang of niggers ?"
After a little hesitation, Dalhousie replied that he had.
" We will talk of it some other time," said Jaspar, satis¬
fied, from the air and manner of the other, that his statement
was false.
168
hatciiie: a tale of the
Dalhousie put on his hat, and, taking the mourning ring
from the table, was about to enfold it in a bit of paper.
" What are you about, sir?" exclaimed Jaspar, as he wit¬
nessed the act.
" The ring is my property, is it not?" said Dalhousie.
" Put it down, or, by heavens, I will expose your rascality
in taking it!"
"Do not be hasty, sir. I have not studied your looks, the
last hour, without profiting by them."
"What do you mean by that?" said Jaspar, a little
startled.
" I mean that the death of your niece does not seem to be
received with that degree of sorrow -which an uncle would
naturally feel."
" Fool! she was not my niece !"
" Why are you so anxious to establish her decease?"
" Was I anxious?" said Jaspar, not knowing how far he
might have betrayed himself.
'' Quite enough so to convince even the most indifferent
observer that you were extremely rejoiced at the event,"
replied Dalhousie, willing to make out a strong case.
Jaspar did not reply, and it was plain Dalhousie's remarks
had had their effect.
" But, Mr. Dumont, I flatter myself I am a man of discre¬
tion. As you were saying, you need an overseer," said Dal¬
housie, with a glance at Jaspar, which conveyed more mean¬
ing than his words.
The glance was irresistible, and Jaspar engaged him at a
liberal salary, as well as his wife, who was to be the house¬
keeper at Bellevue. Dalhousie was a needy man. His for¬
tunes were on the descending scale. Born in France, he had
emigrated to this country, with the chimerical hope of speed¬
ily making a fortune. He could not build up the coveted
temple stone by stone, but wished it to rise like a fairy castle.
With such views, he had wandered about the country with
his .wife (whom he had married since his arrival), in search
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
169
of the philosopher's stone. He had several times engaged in
subordinate capacities, but his impatient hopes would not
brook the distance between him and the goal. He had been
to New Orleans, but the city was almost deserted. On his
arrival at Vicksburg, Jaspar had been pointed out to him as
a person who could probably favor his wishes, and he had
obtained an introduction to him.
Jaspar's thoughts and feelings he read. He discovered
the nature of the relations between the uncle and niece, —
which required but little sagacity, under the circumstances.
Determined to profit by the knowledge he had obtained, his
first step was to satisfy Jaspar of the death of Emily, of
whom, in reality, he knew nothing. The initial letter of his
wife's name in the ring had suggested the means, and he
had convinced Jaspar as related. How Dalhousie's sense of
moral rectitude would allow him to use the deception, we will
not say; but he seemed to tolerate the idea that the great
purpose he had in view would justifyany little peccadilloes he
might commit in obtaining it.
He had gained his end, and taken the first step in the great
road to fortune ; and he doubted .not his future relations with
Jaspar would suggest a second.
The body of the deceased lady was claimed by Dalhousie, *
in behalf of Jaspar, and interred in Yicksburg.
In company with the new overseer and his wife, Jaspar
returned the next day to Bellevue.
15
170
hatchie: a tale of the
CHAPTER XVII.
" Say quick ! quoth he ; I bid thee say,
What manner of man art thou 1
" Forthwith, this frame of mine was wrenched
With a woful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale ;
And then it left me free." Ancient Mariner.
The morning advanced, and Henry Carroll, under the influ¬
ence of the powerful opiate, still slept. By his side sat the
misanthropic physician, who seemed to have learned a lesson
of the dealing of the Creator with the creature such as he
had never before acquired. He had rescued a fellow-creature
from sure death, and the act seemed a part of the great
duties of life which he had .so long neglected. He reflected
upon the numerous opportunities of doing good to his fellow-
men from which his hermit-life debarred him. Again he
thought of his daughter. Her image rose before him in the
darkened chamber of the sick man, and seemed to reproach
him for his want of faithfulness to her. The incident and
reflections of the previous night had strangely influenced his
mind, and changed the whole current of his impulses and
hopes. The solitude of his lonely island no longer seemed
desirable. The world, with all its vanities and vexations,
was the true sphere of life.
The arrival of Jim now summoned him to the relief of Mrs.
Swinger. Calling in the old negro, he gave him some direc¬
tions in case the patient should awake, and, taking his case
of surgical instruments, he proceeded to the landing. Un¬
mooring the sail-boat, he took the two messengers on board,
MISSISSIPPI AND TIIK SOUTII-WKST.
171
with their boat in tow. The wind was still fresh, and
the yacht, with all her sails spread, bore the doctor rap¬
idly on his errand of mercy. A strange impulse seemed to
animate him, — an impulse of genuine, heart-felt sympathy
towards the whole human family, — a feeling to which
he had before been a stranger. His profession seemed
to him now a boon of mercy to the suffering, and he saw how
poorly he had performed his mission to the world. He felt
a pleasure he had never before experienced, in being able to
relieve the distressed, to heal the wounded heart, as well as
the bruised limb.
Under the skilful pilotage of Dr. Vaudelier the more rapid
currents were avoided, the boat pressed to her utmost speed ;
and in a short time the party landed at the wood-yard of
Jerry Swinger.
During the absence of the messengers Emily, by the most
assiduous attentions, had succeeded in restoring the wounded
woman to a state of partial consciousness. The arrival of
the doctor increased her hopes of a speedy restoration. The
rough woodman, who had patiently watched Emily as she
labored over his beloved partner, was melted into tears of joy
when he heard her faintly articulate his name.
After a thorough examination of the wound, the doctor
announced the gratifying intelligence that the woman was
' not dangerously wounded. The severe operation of extracting
the ball was performed, and the patient left to the quiet her
situation demanded.
On the passage from Cottage Island Hatchie had related
the particulars of the affray, so that on his arrival Dr. Vau¬
delier was in possession of all the facts.
" You have had a severe fight here, madam," said he to
Emily, who had followed him out to inquire more particu¬
larly into the situation of her hostess.
"We have, indeed; but I trust no lives will be lost,"
replied Emily.
" No; the woman will do very well. The wound is a.
172
HATCHIE: A TALE OP THE
severe one, but not dangerous. Her strong constitution will
resist all fatal consequences."
" I trust it may, for this has been a day of disaster, with¬
out the loss of more life."
" You were a passenger in the Chalmetta?"
" I was."
" Then you have had a narrow escape."
" But a more narrow one since the explosion. Thank
Heaven, I have been preserved from both calamities !*
" Had you no friends on board?"
" I had — one friendand she hesitated. " I fear he has
perished."
*' Hope for the best!'' replied the doctor, kindly.
The blush, and then the change to the paleness of death,
as Emily thought of Henry, first as the lover, and then as a
mangled"corse, had not escaped the notice of Dr. Yaudelier.
He read in her varying color the relation they had sustained
to each other.
"I have no alternative but hope," said Emily; "but it
seems like hoping against the certainty of evil."
" I saved the life of a gentleman this morning who must
shortly have perished without aid. He, too, had lost a dear
friend."
f Indeed !" said Emily, with interest.
" Yes; but he Was much injured, and will require the most
diligent care."
. "I trUst your merciful endeavors will be crowned.with
success! Do you know the gentleman?"
" I do not. He has not yet been able to converse much.
He was dressed in the uniform of an officer."
" An officer! Perhaps it is he!" exclaimed Emily.
Dr. Yaudelier was much interested in the adventure, and
the pale, anxious features of Emily excited his sympathy for
her.
"As I dressed his wounds," said he, "I noticed the ini¬
tials upon his linen. Perhaps these may afford some clue."
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
173
"What were they?" exclaimed Emily, scarcely able to
articulate, in the intensity of her feelings.
"H. 0."
" It is he ! It is he! And you say he is wounded?"
" I am sorry to say he is."
" Can I go to him ?" said Emily, grasping the doctor's arm.
" I fear your presence will excite him. Are you a rela¬
tive?"
" No, not a relative," replied Emily, blushing; " but I
know he would like to see me."
" I do not doubt it,''said the doctor, with a smile, — a
Juxury in which he rarely indulged. " I am afraid your pres¬
ence will agitate him."
" Let me watch over him while he sleeps. He need not
know I am near."
" Kather difficult to manage, but you shall see him. Will
you return with me ?"
"Thank you, I will. But poor Mrs. Swinger!" and a
shade of anxiety crossed her features, as she thought of leav¬
ing her kind hostess in affliction.
"Her husband is a good nurse, and understands her case
better than you do. If I mistake not, your services will be
full as acceptable at my cottage."
Dr. Vaudelier tried to smile at this sally; but the effort
was too much for him, and he sank under it.
Emily, though sorry to leave her protectress, was drawn
by the irresistible magnetism of affection to Cottage Island.
She compromised between the opposing demands of duty
by promising herself tha't she would again visit the wood-
yard.
She embarked with Dr. Vaudelier, and they were soon
gliding down the mighty river on their way to Cottage Island.
Emily had wished Hatchie to accompany her, as much for
his safety as for her own; but the faithful fellow desired to
stay at the wood-yard. They had before had an interview in
relation to the will. Uncle Nathan, who had been made the
15*
174
IIATCIIIE: A TALE OF THE
custodian of it, had not been seen or heard from, and her
ease again seemed to be desperate. Hatchie assured her of his
safety, and of his good faith. He had left him in the hold,
and, with common prudence, the worthy farmer might have
mstde his escape unharmed. Emily, who now regarded her
devoted servant in the light of a guardian angel, had entire
confidence in his reasoning and conclusions. Of Hatchie's
motive in remaining at the wood-yard she had no conception.
If she had had, she would probably have insisted on his
attendance.
After the departure of Dr. Yaudelier and Emily, Hatchie
went to the cabin, and took therefrom a carpet-bag belonging
to Maxwell, — an article which, even in the ljurry of his exit
from the steamer, he had not omitted to take. With this in
his hand, he proceeded to the out-building, to satisfy himself
of the security of his prisoners; but Vernon had fled, — the
wooden door of the shed had not Been proof against his art.
Hatchie was not disconcerted by this incident. Vernon, he
was aware, was only a subordinate,' who did his evil deeds
for hire, and against him he bore no ill will. But it imme¬
diately occurred to him that the ruffian might have liberated
Maxwell, and this would have utterly deranged his present
plans. Taking from the shed a long rope, he proceeded
to the other side of the cabin, where he had secured the
attorney to the tree. To his great satisfaction he found
the prisoner secure. Vernon did not see him, or was too
intent on his own safety to bestow a thought upon his late
employer.
Hatchie reached the scene of 'Maxwell's humiliation.
Coolly seating himself on a log near the discomfited lawyer,
and regarding him with a look of contempt, he proceeded to
examine the fastenings of the carpet-bag. Maxwell spoke
not; his pride was still " above par," and he returned
Hatchie's contemptuous glances with a scowl of scorn and
hatred. The attorney was in sore tribulation at the unex¬
pected turn affairs had taken, and the future did not present
MISSISSIPPI AND .THE SOUTH-WEST.
175
a very encouraging aspect. Of the mulatto's present inten¬
tions he could gain no idea. The long rope he had brought
with him looked ominous, and a shudder passed through his
frame as he considered the uses to which it might be applied.
As he regarded the cool proceedings of his jailer, the worst
anticipations crowded upon him. The mulatto looked like a
demon of the inquisition to his guilty soul. But, tortured
as he was by the most terrible forebodings, he still preserved
his dignified scowl, and watched the operations of Hatchie
with apparent coolness.
Hatchie examined the lock upon the carpet-bag, and found
that it entirely secured the contents from observation.
"I will trouble you for the key of this bag," said he,
politely, as he rose and approached the attorney.
'' What mean you, fellow ? W ould you rob me!" exclaimed
Maxwell.
" Not at all, sir ; do not alarm yourself. The key, if you
please. In which pocket is it ?"
Hatchie approached, with the intention of searching his
prisoner.
" Stand off, villain !" cried Maxwell, as he gave the mulatto
a hearty kick in the neighborhood of the knee.
" Very well, sir," said Hatchie, not at all disconcerted by
the blow.
Taking the rope he had brought, he dexterously passed
it round the legs of the attorney, and made it fast to the
tree.
" Now, sir, if you will tell which pocket contains the key,
you will save yourself the indignity of being searched."
" Miserable villain! if you wish to commit violence upon
me, you must do it without my consent."
" Sorry to disoblige you, sir," said Hatchie, with an affect¬
ation of civility ; " but I must have the key."
" I have not the key; it is lost. If I had, you should
struggle for it."
176.
HATCHIE : A TALE OF TI1E
"You will pardon me for doubting your word I must
satisfy myself."
"Help! help!" shouted the attorney, as his tormentor
proceeded to put his threat in execution.
This was a contingency for which Hatch ie was not pre¬
pared. To the little operation he was about to perform he
desired no witnesses at present, and a slight rustling in ,the
bushes near him not a little disconcerted him. Stuffing a
handkerchief into the attorney's mouth, he waited for the
intruder upon his pastime ; but no one came, and he pro¬
ceeded to search the pockets of the lawyer. To his great
disappointment, the key could not be found.
Hatchie was persuaded that this carpet-bag must contain
some evidence which would be of service to his mistress, in
case Uncle Nathan and the will should not come to light.
There were two acts to the drama he intended to perform on
the present occasion ; the first, alone with the attorney,— and
the last, in the presence of witnesses. Deferring, therefore,
the opening of the bag to the second act, he proceeded with
the first.
"Now, Mr. Maxwell," said he, "as you have given me
encouragement that you can tell the truth, I have a few ques¬
tions to put to-you."
" I will answer no questions," replied Maxwell, sullenly.
He saw that the mulatto would have it all his own way ;
and he felt a desire to conciliate him, but his pride forbade.
He felt very much as a lion would feel in the power of a
mouse, if such a thing could be.
" Please to consider, sir. You are entirely in my power."
" No matter ; do with me as you please,—I will answer
no questions."
" Think of it; and be assured I will do my best to compel
an answer. If I do not succeed, you will be food for the
buzzards before yonder sun sets."
" What, fellow ! would you murder me V exclaimed Max¬
well, in alarm.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST. 177
" I would not; if you compel me to use violence, the
consequences be upon your own head. Will you answer
me ?"
Maxwell hesitated. The dreadful thought of being mur¬
dered in cold blood presented itself on the one hand, and
the scarcely less disagreeable thought of exposing his crimes,
on the other. The loss of reputation, his prospective fall
in society, were not less terrible than death itself. Resolv¬
ing to trust in his good fortune for the result, he firmly
refused to answer.
Hatchie now took the rope, and having cut off a portion
from one end, with which he fastened together the legs of
his prisoner, he ascended the tree with an end in his hand.
Passing the rope over a smooth branch about fifteen feet from
the ground, he descended and made a slip-noose in one end.
Heedless of the remonstrances of the victim, he fastened it
securely to his neck.
Seating himself again on the log, with the other end of
the rope in his hand, he looked sternly upon the attorney,
and said,
"Now, sir, I put the question again. Will you answer
me ?"
*" Never !" said Maxwell, in desperation. .
" Very well, then; if you have any prayers to say, say
them now ; your time is short.''
" Fool! villain ! murderer ! I have no prayers to say. I
am not a drivelling idiot, or fanatic ; I can die like a
man."
1' You had better reconsider your determination."
" No, craven ! woolly-headed coward ! I will not flinch.
Do you think to drive a gentleman into submission?"
" Be calm, Mr. Maxwell; do not waste your last moments
in idle invectives. The time were better spent in penitence
and prayer."
" Pshaw ! go on, if you dare, with your murderous work!"
Hatchie now unloosed the cords which secured the attorney
178
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
to the tree, and he. stood bound hand and foot beneath the
branch over which the line was passed. Seizing the end of
the rope, the mulatto pulled, it gently at first, but gradually
increasing the pressure upon the prisoner's throat, as if to
give him a satisfactory foretaste of the hanging sensation.
This slow torture was too much for the attorney's fortitude ;
and, aed his respiration grew painful, he called to his execu¬
tioner to stop. Hatchie promptly loosened the rope.
After giving the victim time to recover from the choking
sensation, the mulatto repeated his question.
The fear of an ignominious death, of dying under such
revolting circumstances, had a cooling effect upon the bra¬
vado spirit of the lawyer. His pride had received a most
salutary shock, and he felt disposed to treat Tor his life, even
with the despised slave of Miss Dumont. Had his tormentor
been any other than one of that detested race, he could easily
have regarded him as a man, and conceded something for the
boon of life. Eeduced to the last extremity by the relentless
energy of his victor, he had no choice but to yield the point
or die.
"Will you answer my questions?" repeated Hatchie,
sternly.
"What would you have me answeri"J"replied Maxwell,
doggedly.
" Did you forge the will by which my mistress is deprived
of her rights ?''
" No."
" Do you know who did ?"
Maxwell hesitated, and Hatchie again pulled the rope till
his face was crimson.
" Who forged the will V repeated Hatchie, slackening the
rope.
" I did not," replied Maxwell, as soon as he could regain
breath enough to speak.
" Who did?"
" I know not."
Ilatchie forcing secrets from Maxwell. Page 178.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTII-WEST.
179
Hatchie pulled the rope again.
" Your master "
" I have no master. Miss Emily is my mistress."
" I have been told his name was De Guy."
" Who is De Guy?"
" A lawyer of New Orleans."
" And what agency had you in the affair?"
" None whatever."
" Then Mr. Dumont and De Guy are the only persons con¬
cerned in the transaction ?"
" Yes."
" You are positive ?"
" Yes."
" Then, how comes it, Mr. Maxwell, that they have in¬
trusted you with their secret? How came you by this
knowledge?" said Hatchie, fiercely, as he prepared, appa¬
rently, to swing up the attorney.
Maxwell was staggered by this question, and Hatchie per¬
ceived his discomfiture. That Maxwell had any agency in
the transaction he only suspected ; certainly it was not he
whom he had seen with Jaspar on the night of his escape
from Bellevue. There was much evidence for and much
against him.
Maxwell, unwilling to criminate himself, was in a sad
dilemma; his ready wits alone could save him. But his
hesitation procured him another instant of suffocation.
" I obtained the knowledge from De Guy," said he, at
last.
" How! did he voluntarily betray the confidence of his
employer?"
" No, from his inquiries concerning the affairs of the fam¬
ily, I suspected something; when the will was read my
impressions were confirmed. I charged him with the crime."
;£ Did he acknowledge it?"
"He did."
" Then why did you not expose the plot?"
180
HATCIIIE: A TALE OF THE
"It did not suit my purpose."
" What was your purpose?"
" To marry Miss Dumont."
The attorney's-answers seemed plausible. His actions
were in conformity with his avowed purpose. If lie wished
to marry his mistress, he would not have joined in the plot.
But the bill of sale, which Emily had mentioned to him, was
against him. Poor Hatchie was no lawyer, and was sadly
perplexed by the conflicting testimony.
" Where did you get that bill of sale ?"• said he.
Again the attorney hesitated, and again Hatchie pulled
the rope till he was ready to answer.
" Is it a forgery?" said Hatchie, slackening the rope.
" Probably it is," replied Maxwell.
" Who wrote it?"
" De Guy."
" This De Guy is a most consummate villain, and shall yet
be brought to justice. But how came it in your possession ?"
" I received it from De Guy, as the agent of Mr. Dumont.
In fine, I bought the girl," said Maxwell, maliciously.
Hatchie's temper had nearly got the better of him, for he
made a spring on the rope, which threatened death to the
attorney. But his judgment overcame his passion, and he
again turned his attention to the great object before him.'
" Now, Mr. Maxwell, as you are a lawyer," said Hatchie,
" you are aware of the disadvantages I shall labor under in
making the evidence you have furnished me available."
" I am," replied the attorney. " Do you think I would
have yielded to you, if I had not known it?"
" Have you told me the truth in these statements?" asked
Hatchie.
The attorney hesitated ; but a sharp twinge at the neck
compelled him to say that he had.
" Then I shall be obliged to trouble you to repeat some of
your revelations. Now, mark me, Mr. Maxwell; I am going
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
181
to procure the woodman and his son, to witness your
statements."
" Fool! what avail will they be, extorted with a rope
about my neck 1''
" Perhaps we may be able to show you some law such as
you never read hi your books. If, as I suspect, this carpet¬
bag contains papers, I doubt not we shall find something to
confirm your evidence."
The face of the lawyer grew a shade paler; but he spoke
not.
" Before I go, let me charge you, at your peril, not to be
obstinate ; for here I solemnly assure you that you shall
swing by the branch above you, if you refuse to answer," said
Hatchie, going towards the cabin.
The scene of this exploit was at some distance from the log-
cabin of the woodman, and the mulatto had scarcely got out
of sight before Vernon appeared. He had been at a little
distance from the parties during the whole scene, but he
had too much respect for the prowess of his late conqueror to
venture on a rescue. He had once been tempted to do so, and
had made the noise which had disturbed Hatchie. The black¬
leg, without much sympathy for his confederate, had rather
regarded the whole scene as a good joke than as a serious
affair; and, as he approached the lawyer, his merriment and
keen satire were not relished by the victim.
"But how is it, Maxwell, about this will? You have
never told me about it," said Vernon, who, ruffian as he was,
believed in fair play.
" I will tell you another time ; cut these ropes, and let us
be off."
" But let me tell you, my fine fellow, that though I can
rob a man who has enough, I would not be concerned in such
a dirty game as this," said Vernon, as he severed the ropes
which bound the attorney. '' If you have been helping old
Dumont to wrong his niece, may I be hanged, as that nigger
would have served you, if I don't blow the whole affair !"
16
182
hatchie: a tale op the
" You know nothing about it; but, let me tell you, I am
not concerned in the affair. The girl, I have no doubt, is a
slave."
The confederates now made all haste to depart from their
proximity to such dangers as both had incurred,,and, by a
circuitous way, reached the river, where, taking a boat, they
rowed under the banks down stream.
Hatchie was disappointed, on his return, to find his prisoner
had escaped. A diligent search, by the precaution of the
confederates, was rendered fruitless.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
183
CHAPTER XVIII.
" Why should my curiosity excite me
To search and pry into the affairs of others,
Who have to employ my thoughts so many cares
And sorrows of my own! " Lillo.*
Jaspar Dumont sat in the library at Bellevue. It was
the evening after his return from Vicksburg. Near him,
engaged in examining a heap of papers, was his new overseer,
Dalhousie.
Jaspar was musing over the late turn his affairs had taken;
and, while he congratulated himself , on his present triumph¬
ant position, he could but regard with apprehension the
future, which seemed to smile only to lure him on to certain
destruction. The trite saying, "There is no"peace for the
wicked," is literally and universally true. The lowering
brow, the threatening scowl, the suspicious glance, of the
wicked uncle, were as reliable evidences of his misery as his
naked soul, torn with doubt and anguish, could have been.
Every new paper the overseer turned over produced a start of
apprehension, lest it might contain evidence of his villany.
His nerves had suffered terribly beneath the vision of guilt
and punishment that constantly haunted him. His new over¬
seer, whom he had partially admitted to his bosom as a con¬
fidant, had secured a strong hold upon his fears. His pres¬
ence seemed necessary to cheer him in his lonely hours, to
chase away the phantoms of vengeance that-pursued him.
Harassed by doubts and fears, his constitution was, in some
184
hatchie: a tale of the
degree, impaired, and his mind, losing the pillar upon which
it rested, was prone to yield also.
Dalhousie examined with minuteness the papers to which
his attention had been directed. Before him was a heap of
documents of various kinds, all in confusion, — bills and
bonds, letters and deeds, were thrown promiscuously together.
His purpose was to sort and file them away for future refer¬
ence. This confusion among the papers was not the work of
Colonel Dumont; he had been strictly methodical and accu¬
rate in all his business affairs. This fact was attested by the
occasional strips of pasteboard, on which were marked vari¬
ous descriptions of papers, as well as by bits of red tape that
had secured the bundles.
Dalhousie perceived that the labyrinth he was engaged in
exploring had not been the labor of the former owner of Belle-
vue, and he was perplexed to understand why Jaspar had
taken such apparent pains to disarrange them. But Jaspar
did have a motive ; he had produced the disorder in his care¬
less search for any paper which might be evidence against him.
So heedlessly, however, had he ransacked the drawers, that,
if any such were there, they must have escaped his notice.
He was too much excited to do the work with the attention
his own safety demanded.
Dalhousie continued to examine the papers, and Jaspar
still trembled lest something might turn up which would give
the overseer a confirmation of the opinions he had expressed
at Yicksburg. Still Jaspar had not the courage to undertake
the task himself. He allowed the overseer to perform it, in
the very face of the danger he wished to escape.
The overseer seemed to Jaspar's troubled vision perfectly
indifferent. He could discover no anxiety in his features, to
indicate that he had any other purpose than to do his em¬
ployer's bidding. A more close inspection would have devel¬
oped a slight twinkle, as of anticipation, in the marble face
of Dalhousie.
As he turned paper after paper, his eye rested upon a
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
185
packet enclosed in a blank envelope. His curiosity was
aroused, and, glancing indifferently at Jaspar, he saw that
his piercing eye regarded him with intense scrutiny. Con¬
tinuing his labor without disturbing the mysterious packet,
he waited until the sharp eye of his companion was removed
from him.
On the table by the side of Jaspar was a bottle of brandy,
at which, at short intervals, the miserable man paid his
devoir. Dalhousie did not, therefore, have to wait long
before the keen watcher left his chair, and, with his back to
him, took a long draught of the exciting beverage. The,
overseer, seizing the favorable opportunity, slipped the packet
into his pocket. As indifferently as before, he completed the
task, and Jaspar was relieved when he saw the papers again
filed away.
Dalhousie sought his room, and, scarcely heeding the sal¬
utation of his wife, he seated himself, and drew forth the
packet. Removing the blank envelope, he found it was a
letter, directed to " Emily Dumont," with a request to Mr.
Faxon that it might be delivered to her after the writer's
decease. This seemed to imply that the writer had intended
the clergyman as the keeper of the letter; but with this sur¬
mise the overseer did not trouble himself. He turned the
letter over and over, examined the seal of Colonel Dumont,
which was upon it, and, at last, as though he had satisfied
the warning voice of conscience, he snapped the wax, and
opened it. The letter was quite a lengthy one, yet, without
raising his eyes, he completed the reading of it. A faint
smile of satisfaction played upon his lips, as he re-folded the
paper, and returned it to the envelope.
"You have a letter, Francois?" said his wife, who had
watched him in silence as he read, and who noticed the com¬
placent smile its contents had produced.
"Yes, Delia, and our fortune is at last come," replied
Dalhousie, rising, and bestowing a kiss upon the fair cheek
of the lady.
16#
186
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
" Is it from France?"
"No, dear; it is from the land of spirits!" answered
Dalhousie, with a good-natured laugh.
" Indeed ! I was not aware that you had a correspondent
there."
" But I have; and I am exceedingly obliged to him for
putting me in possession of such useful information as this
letter contains."
"Pray, who is your ghostly correspondent?"
"Colonel Dumont, — a deceased brother of the worthy
Jaspar, in whose employ we now are."
" Do not jest, Francois!" said the lady, as a feeling akin
to superstition rose in her mind.
"Jest or not, the letter was written by him," continued
her husband, still retaining his playful smile.
"To you?"
"Not exactly; but I presume he meant it for me, or it
would not have slipped so easily through Mr, Dumont's
fingers into mine."
" To whom is it directed, Francois ?"
" You grow inquisitive, Delia. I will tell you all about it
in a few days. I must go now and sea that the hands are
all in their quarters ;" and Dalhousie, to avoid unpleasant
interrogatories, left the room.
The overseer went the rounds of the quarters, more as a
matter of form than of any interest he felt in his occupation.
A gentleman by birth and education, these duties were ex¬
tremely distasteful to him, — embraced because necessity
compelled him. His mind seemed far away from his busi¬
ness, for a party of negroes passed him on his return, upon
whom he did not bestow the usual benediction the boys
receive when found out after hou^s.
" Strike while the iron is hot," muttered he, as he entered
the house, and gave his lantern to a servant. "If I don't
do it to-night, it maybe too late another time. The letter is
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
187
in safe hands ; and, as to the other traps, I must get them if
I can. At any rate, I will try."
Approaching the door of the library, he knocked, and was
requested to enter. Under pretence of receiving directions
for his next day's operations upon the plantation, he entered",
and opened a conversation with Jaspar. Walking carelessly
up and down the room while his employer issued his com¬
mands, he occasionally cast a furtive glance at the secretary.
Then, narrowing down his walk, he approached nearer and
nearer to it, until his swinging arm could touch it as he
passed. Finally he stopped, and leaned against the secretary,
with his hands behind him He appeared very thoughtful
and attentive, while Jaspar, glad to find a theme he could
converse upon, expatiated upon his favorite methods of man¬
aging stock and crops. The overseer listened patiently to all
he said, occasionally interrupting with a word of approba¬
tion. The enthusiastic planter, suspecting nothing of the
overseer, labored diligently in his argument, and did not
notice that, when the attentive listener carelessly put his
hands into his pockets, he conveyed with them the key of one
of the drawers.
Dalhousie, having effected the object which brought him
to the library, soon grew tired of the planter's arguments,
and edged towards the door, through which he rather rudely
made his exit.
Jaspar again relapsed into the moody melancholy from
which the presence of the overseer had roused him. Sinking
back into his chair, he again was a prey to the armed fears
that continually goaded him. Occasionally he roused from
his stupor, and, driven by the startling apparition of future
retribution, paced the room in the most intense nervous
excitement. Frequent were the stops he made at the brandy-
bottle on the table; but, for a time, even the brandy-fiend
refused to comfort him, — refused to excite his brain, or pour
a healing balm upon his consuming misery. Again he sunk
into his chair, overcome by the torture of his emotions, and
188
hatchie : a, tale of the
again the gnawing worm forced him to the bottle, until, at
last, nearly stupefied by the liquor, he slumbered uneasily
in his chair. But the terrible apparition, which seldom left
him when awake, was constant in his dreams; and, just as
he was about to plunge into the awful abyss that always
yawned before him, he awoke, and staggered to the bottle
again. A gleam of consciousness now visited his inebriated
mind, and he bethought himself of retiring. With a dim
sense of his usual precaution, he reeled to the secretary, and
attempted to lock the drawers. He discovered that one key
was missing; but, too much intoxicated to reason upon the
circumstance, he took another draught of brandy, and ambled
towards his sleeping-room. He was too far gone to effect a
landing at the head of the stairs, and fell full-length upon
the floor when he released his hold of the banister.
Dalhousie was still up, and his knowledge of Jaspar's
habits enabled him to judge the occasion of the noise he
heard, and he immediately hastened to the rescue. " Lucky!"
muttered he, as he lifted the fallen man. "He must have
been intoxicated when he examined those papers, or he would
have seen that letter."
Jaspar, who had not entirely lost his senses, muttered
something about an accident, and clung closely to his com¬
panion, who soon deposited him on his bed.
The overseer, instead of returning to his room, descended
to the library, where the light was still burning. Locking
the door, he seated himself in the large stuffed chair, and
drew from his pocket the letter he had purloined from the
secretary. Opening it, he proceeded to a re-perusal of it.
The letter was as follows :
" Mr Dear Child :—When you read this letter, your father
will be no more. The last act of affection will have been
performed, and the ground closed over your only earthly pro¬
tector. I am aware that you will be exposed to many trials
and temptations. The latter you are, I trust, prepared to
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
189
resist; the former must come to all. I feel that I have done
my duty to you, not only in bestowing an abundance of this
world's goods, but that I have not entirely failed to implant
in your mind the treasure ' which neither moth nor rust
can corrupt.' I have done all that I could do, and in a
short time I must lay my body in the grave, and leave you an
orphan. But you are in the hands, and under the protec¬
tion, of a Father who is infinitely more able to take care of
you than I have been. Into His hands, with my ransomed
spirit, I undoubtingly commit you.
'' As I write this letter, I feel the hand of death upon me.
In a few short days, it may be only hours, I must go. I am
the less ready to bid you the everlasting adieu when I think
of the dangers that may surround you. In my last hours I
am doomed to the torments of suspicion. I pray God they
may be groundless. Perhaps they are only idle fancies,
the dotings of an over-anxious father. I feel, as the sands
of life are fast ebbing out, that some great calamity is lower¬
ing over you. I know not that a remark I accidentally over¬
heard should thus haunt me ; but it has roused my suspicions,
and the presage of calamity will not depart from me. I can¬
not, with the warning voice ever ringing in my mind, help
taking steps to guard you against the worst that may befall
you.
* " My dear child, if I should disclose my suspicions, and they
should prove unreasonable, I shall have done a grievous
wrong to him I suspect. Although you .cannot save me from
the misery of doubting in my last hour, you can save me
from injuring another in your good opinion. If I have
wronged him, let the injury die with me. If my suspicions
are not groundless, I offer you the means of saving yourself
from the calamity that impends.
" Should any event occur after my death which deprives you
of any of your inheritance, follow the directions I now give
you.
" In the back of the lower drawer of the secretary you will
190
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
find a secret aperture. The back of the drawer is a thick
board, upon which is screwed, on the lower side, a thin slat.
Take out the screws and remove the piece they secure, and
the aperture will be seen. It contains a sealed packet, the
contents of which require no explanation.
" If nothing happens after my decease, and you peaceably
obtain all your rights, burn the packet without opening it.
My unjust suspicions, then, cannot influence you, or injure the
person to whom they refer.
" This letter you will receive from Mr. Faxon, to whom I
recommend you for counsel and consolation in every trial.
" And now, my child, I must bid you farewell. I feel my
end approaching. May God forever bless and preserve you !
" Your dying father,
" Edgar Dumont."
Dalhousie perused and re-perused this letter, until its con¬
tents were fixed in his mind. He had many doubts and scru¬
ples, both prudential and conscientious, in regard to the step
he was about to take : but the chimera of fortune prompted
him to risk all in the great project he had matured. Taking
from his pocket a small screw-driver, with which he had pre¬
pared himself, he opened the drawer designated in the letter,
the key of which he had secured. Emptying the drawer o^
its contents, he turned it over, and, to his great delight, per¬
ceived the slat as described in the letter. Removing the
screws, he soon had the satisfaction of holding in his hand'
the packet which, he doubted not, would restore the heiress
of Bellevue to her home and her estates, if she were still
alive; or which would give him a hold upon Jaspar, by means
of which he could make his fortune.
Dalhousie was not a natural-born villain. It was the
pressure of necessity, the almost unconscions yielding of a
weak resolution, which had led him thus far in his present
illegal and dishonorable course. Of the heiress he knew
nothing ; and the thought of restoring her had never entered
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
191
his head, much more his heart. The great purpose of his
life was to make his fortune, and it was this idea alone
which influenced him in the present instance. He had
entered upon his duties at Bellevue only the day before;
but so impatient was he to realize the hope which had
brought him there, that every hour seemed burdened with
the weight of weeks.
Carefully depositing its contents as he had found them, he
locked the drawer, and put the key upon the floor.
192
hatchie : a tale of the
CHAPTER XIX.
<* •>
" The accursed plot lie overheard,
Its every point portrayed ;
Yet ere the villain's words were cold,
"The counter-plot was made."
Hatchie was chagrined at the loss of his prisoner. His
diligent search was of no avail. The Chalmetta's boat, which
lay at the wood-yard in the morning, was gone; so he had no
doubt Maxwell had made his escape in it. Having no further
motive in remaining at the wood-yard, he procured a small
canoe, with the intention of joining his mistress at Cottage
Island.
Seated in the stern of the canoe, Hatchie propelled it with
only sufficient force to avoid the eddies which would have
whirled his frail bark in every direction. His thoughts wan¬
dered over the events of the past few days. He moralized
upon the conduct of the attorney and the uncle, and nursed
his indignation over them. Hatchie was a moralist in his
own way, but not a moralist only. The great virtue of his
philosophy, unlike much of a more scholastic origin, was its
practical utility. From the past, with its conquered trials,
he turned to the future, to inquire for its dangers, to ask
what snares it had spread to entangle the fair being whom
he worshipped with all a lover's fondness, without the lover's
sentiment.
We will not follow him in his peregrinations through the
mazes of the misty future, for they were interrupted by the
appearance on the water of a distant object, which excited
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
193
his attention. A searching and anxious scrutiny convinced
him that it was the boat in which Maxwell had made his
escape. Though at a great distance from him, he could see
that it contained two men. Guardian as he was of his mis¬
tress' honor and safety, the sight awakened all his fears and
called up all his energy. Did they know that his mistress
had gone to Cottage Island ? It was possible that Vernon
had obtained a knowledge of her movements. The faithful
fellow was almost maddened at the.tK ught.
The boat approached Cottage Island, and Hatchie observed
them pull in under the high bank. This movement was
ominous of evil, and all the mulatto's fears were confirmed,
when, as they passed the mouth of the little stream, he saw
one of them rise in the boat and point it out. Satisfied that
his canoe was yet unnoticed by his enemies, and dreading no
immediate danger, he paddled across the river so as to bring
the island between them. When he had gained a position
which hid him from their view, he used all his immense
strength in propelling the canoe towards the island. A few
minutes sufficed to bring him up with the western shore of
the islet, his enemies being upon the opposite side. Keeping
close to the high bank, he paddled down-stream to the lower
extremity of the island, where the sound of voices caused him
suddenly to check his progress, and gain a landing. Draw¬
ing the canoe out of reach of the current, he climbed up the
bank, which, being near the down-stream end of the island,
sloped gradually down, till it terminated in the low, sandy
beach.
He reached the high bank without attracting the attention
of the party of whose motions he wished to obtain a knowl¬
edge. He could now distinctly hear their conversation,
though they were still at a considerable distance from him.
Cautiously he climbed a thick cotton-wood tree, whose foliage
completely screened him from observation, and there awaited
the nearer approach of Maxwell and his confederate.
17
194
IIATCIIIE : A TALE OF THE
"Are you sure this is the island?" said Maxwell, wheD
they had come within hearing of Hatchie.
" This must be the one," replied Yernon. "We shall soon
see whether it is inhabited or not."
" With whom did the girl leave the wood-yard1?"
" With a doctor who lives like a hermit on this island. I
gaw them from a distance get into the sail-boat, and I asked
a boatman for the particulars."
'' Who is the doctor 1''
" Don't know. The boatman said it was an outlandish
name, and he had forgotten it. You mean to have the^ girl,
do you?"
" I do, if possible."
"0, it's quite possible — nothing easier. You say the
girl belongs to you 1''
" I do ; did I not show you the bill of sale V
" That might be a trick of your own, you know. It's a
devilish queer story."
"Pshaw! man, are you crazy1? This thing has startled
your conscience more than all the crimes of a lifetime. What
has gotten into you, Yernon ? I never -knew you to moralize
before."
"Look here, my boy, I can do almost anything; but I
would not wrong a woman, — no, not a ivoman, — I am above
that," said Vernon, with much emphasis.
" But, man, she is my slave — a quadroon."
'' Property's property ; but since I met the girl in the
boat, I am half inclined to believe she is no quadroon. Max¬
well, I had a sister once, and may my body be rent into a
thousand pieces but I would tear out the heart of the man
who would serve her as you do this girl. If she is your
property, why, that alters the case."
" Certainly it does; so, end your sermon, and tell me how
to gain possession of my property.'"
"We can storm the island."
" What! two of us ?"
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
195
" I can get plenty of soldiers, if you will pay them."
" I will give a thousand dollars for her ; and, if I get her
again, by heavens, she shall not escape me! I will put a pair
of ruffles on her wrists such as the dainty girl never got of
her milliner. How many persons are on the island ?"
" That I don't know — perhaps half a dozen. Your hang¬
man will be there," and Yernon chuckled at the thought of
the scene he had witnessed near the wood-yard.
Maxwell's teeth grated, and Hatchie distinctly heard the
malediction he bestowed upon him. Fears for his personal
safety did not, for a moment, disturb him. Prudence alone
prevented him from rushing upon the villains, and thwarting
in its embryo stage their design upon his mistress.
" You mean," said Maxwell, " to take the girl from the
house by force V'
" There is no other way."
" Then we had better examine the island, or it will not be
an easy matter to land in a dark night."
" How does the owner land V
" Probably by the little stream we saw above."
" Rather difficult navigation for a stranger. We had better
land in this part of the island. Let us walk through the
thicket and find the house."
Hatchie saw them attempt to pass through the thick
brush ; but the task was not an easy one. By the aid of
a bowie-knife, with which they cut away some of the bushes,
they penetrated to the larger growth of trees, where the
under-brush no longer impeded their progress. They passed
beyond the hearing of the mulatto, though from his elevated
position he occasionally obtained a view of them, as they
approached the cottage. Anxiously he waited their return,
in the hope of getting more definite ideas of the time and
method of the proposed attack upon the island.
After a careful survey of the premises, Maxwell and Ver¬
non returned to their former position.
" Quite an easy job," said Yernon ; " the only difficulty is
196
hatchie: a tale of the
this thick brush, which can be easily removed. I M'ill cut
away a part now."
" Very well," responded Maxwell, as his associate pro¬
ceeded to cut away the bushes, and form a pathway through
the thicket. " When shall the thing be done?"
" As to that I can hardly say. When we get to Yicksburg
we can decide. Better let the girl rest a week or so ; for it
may take that time to get things ready. You can't hire men
to do such work as easily as you ean to cut wood and dig
ditches. It takes skill and caution."
" Very well, I sun in no haste."
For nearly an hour Vernon labored at his task, and com¬
pleted a path through which the party could easily pass to
the cottage.
The object of their visit accomplished, Hatchie saw them
return to their boat, and row down the river. After they had
disappeared round a bend, he descended from the tree, and
examined the labors of Vernon. He found the bushes which
had been cut down were nicely placed at each end of the
path in an upright position, so as to conceal it from the eyes
of the passer. For a long time the mulatto reflected upon
the conversation he had heard, and considered the means of
defeating the diabolical plot. Against a band of ruffians,
such as Vernon would enlist for the service, he could not con¬
tend single-handed. To remove his mistress^ from the island,
while Henry Carroll lay helpless there, would not be an
acceptable proposition to her. Resolving to lay the inform¬
ation he had gained before Dr. Vaudelier, he returned to
his canoe, and, having rounded the island, reached the cot¬
tage by the usual passage.
Henry Carroll still slept. For six hours he had Iain under
the influence of the powerful opiate. Emily entered his
chamber in company with the doctor, on their return from the
wood-yard. The sight of Hqpry, pale and worn as he ap-
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
197
peared, excited all her sympathy. His right arm, which was
uninjured, lay extended on the bed; she gently grasped it,
and, bending over him, imprinted upon his pallid lips a kiss,
that was unknown and unappreciated by its recipient. Only
a few days before she had listened to the eloquent confession
of him who now lay insensible of her presence. She was a
true woman, and "the presence of Dr. Yaudelier did not re¬
strain the expression of her woman's heart. It was visible in
her pale cheek, in her heaving breast, and in her sparkling
eye, from which oozed the gentle tear of affectionate sym¬
pathy.
She held his hand; unconsciously, at the silent bidding of
her warm heart, she gently pressed it. As though the mag¬
netism of. love had communicated itself to the sleeper, he
sighed heavily, and uttered a groan of half-subdued anguish.
His eyelids fluttered ; he was apparently shaking off the heav¬
iness of slumber. His lips quivered, and Emily heard them
faintly articulate her name.
At the request of the good physician, she reluctantly with¬
drew from the apartment.
The sufferer endeavored to turn in the bed ; the effort drew
from him a groan of agony, which, in a more.wakeful state,
a proud superiority over every weakness would not have per¬
mitted him to utter. His eyes opened, and he stared vacantly
about the darkened chamber. The doctor took his hand, and
examined his pulse.
"How do you feel, captain? Does your head ache?"
asked he.
"Slightly; I am better, I think," replied the invalid,
faintly.
" And you are better," said the doctor, with evident satis¬
faction. " The scalds are doing very well, and the wound on
your head is not at all serious."
" Now, sir, will you tell me where I am V
Dr. Vaudelier imparted the information.
"Emily! Emily! Won but lost again'" murmured
17*
198
hatchie: a tale of the
Henry. " "Would that we had sunk together beneath the
dark tide !"
" Do not distress yourself, my dear captain. We must be
careful of this fever."
"Distress myself!" returned Henry, not a little provoked
at the coolness of the doctor. " You know not the loss I have
sustained."'
" But you must keep calm."
" Doctor, did you ever love1?" asked Henry, abruptly, as
he gazed rather wildly at his host.
This was a severe question to a man whose matrimonial
experience was of such a disagreeable nature. But he remem¬
bered the day before marriage, — the sunny dreams which
had beguiled many a weary hour,—and he sympathized with
the unhappy man.
" I have," replied the doctor, solemnly, so solemnly that it
chilled the ardent blood of the listener. " I have loved,
and can understand your present state of feeling."
" Then you know, if I do not regain her whom I have lost,
I had better die now than endure the misery before me."
The doctor was not quite so sure of this, but he did not
express the thought.
" You will regain her," said he.
" Alas ! I fear not. The boat was almost a total wreck.
I saw scores of dead and dying as I clung to my frail
support."
"Pear not. Believe me, captain, I am a prophet; she
shall be restored to your arms again."
'' I thank you for the assurance ; but I fear you are not an
infallible prophet."
" In this instance, I am."
Henry looked at the doctor, and saw the smile of satisfac¬
tion that played upon his usually stern features. It augured
hope — more than hope ; and, as the wrecked mariner
clings to the disjointed spar, his mind fastened upon that
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
199
smile as the forerunner of a blissful reunion with her his soul
cherished.
" Be calm, sir, be calm; she is safe," continued Dr.
Vaudelier.
" Do you know it?" almost shouted Henry, attempting to
rise.
" Be quiet, sir," said the doctor, in a voice approaching
to sternness ; " be quiet, or I shall regret that I gave you
reason to hope."
" Where is she?" asked Henry, sinking back at the doc¬
tor's reproof, and heeding not the darting pain his attempt
to rise had" produced.
" She is safe ; let this suffice. I see you cannot bear more
now."
" lean bear anything, sir, anything. I will be as gentle
as a lamb, if you will tell me all you know of her."
" If you keep entirely quiet, we will, in a few days, let
her speak for herself."
" Then she is safe : she has escaped every danger?"
" She has."
" And was not injured ?"
" No; she was taken, it seems, from the wreck by a
villain. Thank God, she has escaped his wiles !"
Henry's indignation could scarcely be controlled, even by
the reflection that Maxwell's wicked intentions had been
turned, by an overruling Providence, into the means of her
safety. -
Dr. Vaudelier related to his patient the incident of the
wood-yard; not, however, without the necessity of frequently
reproving his auditor, whose exasperation threatened serious
consequences. When, at the conclusion of the narration, he
told Henry that the loved one was at that moment beneath his
roof, he could scarcely restrain his immoderate joy within
the bounds of that quiet which his physician demanded.
" May I not see her?" said he.
" That must depend entirely upon your own behavior.
200
hatchie: a tale op the
You have not shown yourself a very tractable patient thus
far."
" I will be perfectly docile," pleaded Henry.
" I fear I cannot trust you. You are so excitable, that you
explode like a magazine of gunpowder."
" No, no ; I solemnly promise to keep perfectly quiet. She
will, I know, be glad to see me, wounded and stricken though
I am."
" She has already seen you."
" Indeed!"
" Yes ; and not content with seeing you merely, your lips
are not yet cold from the kiss she imprinted upon them
and a smile, not altogether stoical, lit up the doctor's cold
expression. " You shall see her, but the instant I perceive
that the interview is prejudicial to your nerves, I shall
remove her."
" Thank you, doctor !" said Henry, fervently.
" 0, it is part of my treatment. It may do you more good
than all my physic. I have known such cases."
" I am sure it will," returned the patient.
Dr. Yaudelier retired, and after a serious charge to Emily,
he reentered, leading the Hygeia who was to restore the sick
man.
" Be careful," was the doctor's monition, as he elevated
his fore-finger, in the attitude of caution ; "be careful."
"0, Emily!" exclaimed Henry, more gently than the
nature of the interview would seem to allow, as he extended
his hand to her.
Emily silently took the hand, and while a tell-tale tear
started from her eye, she pressed it gently ; but the pressure
startled the sick man's blood, and sent it thrilling with joy
through its lazy channels. The invalid, as much as the
pressure of tfce hand warmed his heart, seemed not to be sat¬
isfied with the hand alone ; for he continued to draw her tow¬
ards himself, until her form bent over him, and their lips
met. It was the first time when both were conscious of the
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
201
act. "We will not go into ecstasies over the unutterable bliss
of that moment. We will not deck our page with any un¬
seemly extravagances. If the experience of the reader has
led him through the hallowed mystery of the first kiss of
love, he needs not another's fancy to revive the beatific
vision. If not, why, thousands of coy and blushing damsels,
equally in the dark, are waiting, from whom he may select
one to assist him in solving the mystery. Besides, it is not
always wise to penetrate the secrets of the heart, even in a
novel; for there is a sacredness about them, a kind of nat¬
ural free-masonry, which must not be made too common.
Dr. Yaudelier, when he saw that the patient was disposed
to behave himself in a reasonable Aanner, withdrew from
the room, and left them to the undisturbed enjoyment of their
happy reunion. In an hour he returned, and peremptorily
forbade all further conversation. He permitted Emily to
remain in the room, however, on the promise to allow the
invalid to use no further exertion in talking.
All day, like a ministering angel, she moved about his
couch, and laved his fevered brow. All his art could not
lure her into any conversation beyond the necessary replies
to his questions concerning his physical condition. Henry
was too thankful for being permitted to enjoy her presence to
forfeit the boon by any untractableness, and, for one of his
excitable temperament, he was exceedingly docile.
202
IIATCHIE I A TALE OF THE
CHAPTER XX.
" Appius. Well, Claudius, are the forces
At hand 1
Claudius. They are, and timely, too ; the people
Are in unwonted ferment." Knowles.
It was midnight at Cottage Island, — the third night after
the events of the preceding chapter. Henry Carroll, by the
skilful treatment of his host, was in a great degree relieved
from his severe pain, and had now sunk into a natural and
quiet slumber. By his bedside sat Dr. Yaudelier. Emily
had, an hour before, retired to the rest which her exhausted
frame demanded. For the past three days she had watched
patiently and lovingly by the invalid. And now she had
only been induced to retire by the promise of the doctor to
call her, if any unfavorable symptom appeared.
The threatened assault upon the island had been thoroughly
considered, and for the past two nights the island wore the
appearance of a garrisoned fortress, rather than the secluded
abode of a hermit. Emily knew of the peril which now
menaced her, but the ample means at hand for protection
rendered it insignificant. All thought, even of her own
security, was merged in her generous interest in the comfort
of the sufferer.
The good physician was uneasy and disturbed, as he sat
by the bedside of his patient. The circumstances which
surrounded him were novel in the extreme. Accustomed as
he had been to the quiet which always reigned in his do¬
main, to find himself, as it were, the inmate of a fortress, in
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTII-WEST.
203
momentary expectation of an attack, was so singularly odd,
that his natural indifference deserted him. He had collected
quite a large force of his humble neighbors to assist him in
his present emergency, and they were now making their finn.l
arrangements to meet the assault.
The doctor was restless.; but it was not on account of any
fear of his personal safety, — he was above that. The lonely
and innocent being whom he had undertaken to protect had
filled his mind with a^ense of responsibility. A single day
had been long enough for Emily to win a way to his affec¬
tions, and he had grown to regard her with the tender care
of a father. Occasionally he left his place at the bedside,
and went to the window, as if to assure himself that the
attack had not already commenced.
In front of the cottage a different sentiment prevailed
among the motley group there assembled. There were twenty
men, including Ha-tchie, all armed with rifle and bowie-knife,
and every one anxious for the fight to commence. Besides
their arms, each man was provided with a small cord, and a
torch of pitch-wood, the end of which had been plentifully
besprinkled with turpentine.
The party was composed mostly of woodmen and boatmen,
who had promptly and willingly obeyed the doctor's sum¬
mons. Like most men of their class in that locality, they
were hardy and reckless ; they had not that healthy horror
of a mortal combat which the moralist would gladly see.
Dr. Yaudelier had always been their friend; had always
promptly and kindly aided them in their necessities, whether
moral, physical, or pecuniary. As he had laved the fevered
brows of their wives and children, so had he said prayers
over their dead, in the absence of a clergyman. He had
exhorted the intemperate and the dishonest, and with his
purse relieved the needy in their distress. They were not
ungrateful; they appreciated his many kindnesses, and re¬
joiced in an opportunity to serve him. These men, notwith¬
standing their rude speech, their rough exteriors, and their
204
HATCHIE : A TALE OF TflE
reckless dispositions, were true-hearted men. They recip¬
rocated the offering, of a true friendship, not by smooth
speeches and unmeaning smiles, but by actions of manly
kindness. The philosopher in ethics may say what he
pleases of the refinements of sympathy; we would not give a
single such heart as those gathered on Cottage Island for a
whole army of puling, sentimental, hair-splitting moralizers.
They were men of action, not of words; and, though they
hesitated not, in what they deemed a g^od cause, to close with
their man in deadly combat-, they were true as steel to a
friend in the hour of his need.
With these men the exploits of Hatchie, which had been
related, and perhaps exaggerated, by Jerry Swinger, who was
a leading spirit of the party, had been much applauded, and
he had, in spite of the odium of his social position, obtained
a powerful influence over them. They heard him with atten¬
tion, and deferred to his skill and judgment. By his advice,
and to remove the confusion of the- affray from the vicinity
of the cottage, it was determined to receive the invaders near
the beach where he had overheard Vernon propose to land.
Jerry Swinger, whom natural talent and the .wish of the
party seemed to indicate as leader, marched the expedition
towards the avenue which had been made in the bushes by
the ruffians.
For so many men, excited as they were by the anticipa¬
tion of a conflict, they were remarkably quiet and orderly.
Dr. Yaudelier had cautioned them to avoid all noise, and not
to fire a rifle unless absolutely necessary. He had also
instructed them to make prisoners of the assailants, if possi¬
ble, without injuring them.
Jerry Swinger stationed his party near the avenue, ready
to spring upon and overpower. the foe, when the favorable
moment should arrive.
An hour passed by, aiyl the impatience of the ambushed
woodmen seemed likely to give their faithful leader some
trouble, when the careful dip of oars near the shore saluted
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
205
their ears. In a whisper Jerry gave the oft-repeated caution
for silence, and charged them to be prompt when the moment
came.
The assaulting party approached the shore. There were
two boats, the foremost of which contained eight men, under
the direction of" Maxwell, and the other six, led by Vernon.
The latter had reconnoitred the island several times, and had
somewhat modified the plan of the attack, on discovering that
the cottage, for the past two nights, had been occupied by
more than its usual occupants. Several men had been seen to
land there ; but, as his preparations on the lower part of the
island were undisturbed, it never occurred to him that his
purpose would be anticipated.
Vernon had procured the services of fourteen men, chicken-
thieves, and others of desperate fortunes, to engage in the
enterprise, by holding out to them the hope of plunder, of
which the cottage, he assured them, would afford an abun¬
dant harvest. The real purpose of the expedition was, there¬
fore, unknown to any of the party, except the leaders. The
prospect of a sharp fight had not in the least dampened the
ardor of their hopes. With men of their craft it was a dull
season, and the prospect of "cracking a crib" plentifully
stored with valuables was quite a pleasant anticipation.
It was arranged that Maxwell, with the larger portion of
the desperadoes, should land at the lower part of the island,
and, if any defenders appeared, commence hostilities, and
draw them away from the house, while Vernon, with the
most experienced of the " cracks-men," should assault the
house, and effect the purpose of the enterprise. In the per¬
son of one of the chicken-thieves a pilot for the creek was
discovered; and, to make assurance doubly sure, it was
decided that Vernon should approach the cottage by the usual
channel.
Maxwell's boat was beached, while that of Vernon pro¬
ceeded up the river to the littler stream. The skill of his
pilot, of whom Vernon had felt many doubts, soon brought
18
206
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
him to the creek. The current, he found, was quite rapid,
and he feared it would carry him into the midst of the " ene¬
my's camp " before Maxwell should have made his demonstra¬
tion. As the boat was whirled along towards the centre of
the island, for the oars could not be used, on account of their
noise, his position seemed to grow desperate. Yernon was
on the point of risking the noise, and taking to the oars, when
he discovered an overhanging branch, which he seized as
the boat passed under it. Fortunately for him, a bend in the
stream turned the current from the middle of the creek, or
its violence would have drawn him into the water. By the
aid of his companions, he succeeded in making the boat fast
to the branch. He listened; but all was still. There were
no indications of the approach of the other party.
Seating himself in the stern-sheets of the boat, he again
considered the operations in which he was soon to engage ;
but, as these were necessarily to be directed by the circum¬
stances of the moment, his deliberations soon gave way to
that impatience which the perpetrator of crime experiences
at an unexpected delay. His eager spirit was, however, soon
gratified by sounds of conflict, which proceeded from the part
of the island where Maxwell had landed. Awhile he lis¬
tened, and the sounds grew more and more distinct. Loosing
the boat from its aerial moorings, it was again driven by the
current towards the landing in front of the cottage. Prepa¬
rations were now made to effect the grand object, and, land¬
ing by the side of the doctor's yacht, Yernon found no one to
oppose his progress, though the sounds from the lower ex¬
tremity of the island indicated that the affray was growing
hotter and more violent. At the head of his party, Vernon
was about to enter the house, when the approach of a body
of men from the scene of action caused him to pause, and
await their approach.
Maxwell had landed on the beach, and, not suspecting the
proximity of the ambush which waited to receive him, had
proceeded towards the avenue made at his first visit to the
MISSISSIPPI AND UJHE SOUTH-WEST.
207
island. Removing the loose bushes, they attempted to pass
through; but no sooner were they fairly involved among the
young trees than Jerry Swinger shouted his first order, to
light the torches, and, in an instant, the woods were illumin¬
ated, and the position of both parties disclosed. This was,
undoubtedly, a masterly stroke of preparation on the part of
Jerry. The torches, on the application of the match, emitted
a broad sheet of flame, which glared upon the invaders like a
"sudden flash of lightning, and utterly confounded them. It
seemed like the bolt of Omnipotence thrown across their
path in the hour of their great transgression.
Maxwell was unprepared for an immediate attack. He
had calculated on effecting a junction with Vernon in the
vicinity of the cottage. Before his party had time to recover
from the panic, they were surrounded by the resolute wood¬
men. The attorney, who was as brave and active as he was
unprincipled and cunning, was not a man to be defeated
without a stout resistance. "Encouraging his party by shouts,
and by his own example, a general engagement ensued.
Hatchie no sooner saw the foe of his mistress' peace, than,
stepping between him and Jerry Swinger, who also had an
account to settle with him, he knocked down the pistol which
was levelled at his head, and grasped him by. the throat. In
the hands of Hatchie the attorney was as nothing. The stal¬
wart mulatto cast him upon the ground, and, with his cord,
bound him hand and foot. The leader vanquished, it was
the work of but a few moments to secure the rest of the
assailants.
Jerry Swinger learned, from sundry exclamations of the
defeated party, that another portion of the expedition was to
land at the creek. Leaving a few of his men in charge of the
prisoners, he made all haste, with the remainder, towards
the cottage.
The affray had occupied but a few moments. The sturdy
woodmen, accustomed to such scenes, and animated by a high
motive, had done their duty promptly and efficiently, as the
208
hatchie: a-tale op the
woful appearance of the disconcerted ruffians testified. Some
hard blows had been dealt; some few upon both sides were
severely Grounded ; but, considering the desperate character
of the invaders, the masterly tact of Jerry Swinger had evi¬
dently saved much bloodshed.
Hatchie, as soon as he had secured his prisoner, has¬
tened, somewhat in advance of Jerry's party, towards the
cottage.
Vernon waited the approach of the party in front of the
cottage. While it was yet at some distance, he discovered
Hatchie, whom he recognized by the light of his torch, run¬
ning in front of it. The appearance of the mulatto, alone,
he interpreted as the signal of victory to the party in con¬
junction with him, who, he imagined, were pursuing him.
Resolving, therefore, to lose no rhore time, he advanced
towards the house, ordering two of his followers to secure
Hatchie.
Dr. Vaudelier had heard the sounds of the distant encoun¬
ter, and occasionally sought the window to assure himself
the invaders did not approach the cottage. The glaring
torch of Hatchie, who was running towards the house, gave
him some misgivings, and, seizing the pistols which lay upon
the table, he went to the door, on opening which he was
'confronted by Vernon.
"Come on, boys! come on!" shouted the ruffian, as he
pushed by the doctor. '' The way is clear; let us make quick
work."
The pistol of Dr. Vaudelier had been raised to shoot down
the assailant; but his hand dropped at the sound of his voice,
he staggered back and let the. weapon fall from his hand, and
uttered an exclamation of intense feeling.
"This way, men! this way!" shouted Vernon, as he
pressed on.
Entering the room at the right of the entry, in which a
bed had been temporarily placed for the use of Emily, he
found the affrighted girl, who had been aroused from her
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
209
transient slumber by the noise of the attack. Rising from
the .bed upon which she had merely thrown herself, she was
confounded by the appearance of her former persecutor.
" Ah, my pretty bird, you are again in my power, and I
shall take care that no weak indulgence again deprives me
of your society," said Vernon, as he seized her arm, and
attempted to hurry her from the room.
" Unhand me, villain !" exclaimed she, roused to despera¬
tion by the sudden and painful change which had overtaken
her.
"Do not pout, my pretty dove ! there is no chance to
escape this time. Your valuable assistant, that bull-headed
nigger, cannot help you; so I advise you to come quietly with
me."
" Never, villain ! I i^ever will leave this house alive !" —
and she struggled to free herself from the ruffian's grasp.
" Nay, nay, lady ! do jiot be unreasonable."
"Help! help!" shouted Emily, with the energy of des¬
peration.
"No use, my pretty quadroon ; I put your man, Hatchie,
into the hands of two stout fellows ; he cannot come, even at
your bidding."
The ruffian had hardly finished the sentence before a heavy
blow on the back of the head laid him prostrate upon the
floor.
" You are a false prophet," said Hatchie, quietly, as he
assisted his mistress to a sofa, while Jerry Swinger, who
had followed him, examined the condition of the fallen
man.
"Thank God!" continued Hatchie, "we have beaten
them off."
" Heaven is kinder to me than I deserve," murmured
Emily, bursting into tears, as the terrible scene through
which she had just passed was fully realized. " But where
is Henry—Captain Carroll — is he safe ?"
" All safe, ma'am ; the catamounts have not been in his
18*
210
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
room," replied Jerry Swinger. " Cheer up, ma'am ; it mought
have been worse."
" Let us carry this carrion from the house," said Hatchie,
seizing the prostrate Yernon in no gentle gripe. " Let us
fasten him to a tree, and I will not take my eye from him or
the lawyer till both are hung."
"Stay, stay, Hatchie!" exclaimed Dr. Vaudelier, who at
that moment entered. 11 He is my son
" Good heavens !" said Emily, rising from her recumbent
posture on the sofa.
" It is indeed true," replied the doctor, in a melancholy
tone. "-I would that he had died in the innocency of his
childhood. I recognized him as he entered the house, and
had nearly lost my consciousness, as the terrible reality
stared me in the face, that my so*, he whose childhood I
had watched over, who once called me by the endearing name
of father, is a common midnight assassin !
"Is he your persecutor ?" continued the doctor, relieved
by an abundant shower of tears which the terrible truth had
called to his eyes. " Is he the person who has caused you
so much trouble ?"
" No, no, sir!" responded Emily, eager to afford the slight¬
est comfort to the bereaved heart of the father; "he only
acted for Maxwell."
" A hired villain! without even the paltry excuse of an
interested motive to palliate the offence. 0 God! that I
should be brought so low!" — and the doctor wrung his hands
in anguish.
"Perhaps, sir," said Emily, "he is not so bad as you
think ; let us hear before we condemn him."
Her resentment, if her gentle nature had for a moment
harbored such a feeling, had all given way to the abundant
sympathy she felt for the doctor in his deep distress. For¬
giving as the spirit of mercy, she now applied restoratives to
the man who had so lately attempted to wrong her; and
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
211
•Dr. Vaudelier, with-a sad heart, assisted her in her merciful
duty.
Hatchie, on his approach to the cottage, had been assailed
by the men whom Vemon had sent to secure him. A severe
encounter had ensued, and although Hatchie's great muscular
power and skill had enabled him to keep his assailants at
bay, he woilld eventually have had the worst of it; but Jerry
Swinger came to his aid in season for him to save his mis¬
tress from injury. Vernon's party, like that of Maxwell,
were all secured.
The noise caused by the entrance of Vernon had awakened
Henry Carroll from his slumbers. He listened, but could not
make out the occasion of it: for, in consideration of his feeble
condition, he had not been informed of the meditated attack.
The cry for help uttered by Emily convinced him of the nature
of the disturbance. His first impulse was to rise and rush to
her assistance ; but of his inability to do this he was pain¬
fully reminded in his attempt to rise. The heavy fall of
Vernon on the floor, and the voice of Hatchie, assured him
that, whatever the affair might be, it had assumed a new
phase. His painful apprehensions were quieted by the ap¬
pearance of Hatchie, who in a concise manner related the
events of the night.
The last lingering doubt of the suspicious invalid was
removed by the entrance of Emily herself.
"You are safe, dear Emily !" exclaimed he.
" I am, thank God !"
" And I could not assist in your defence !"
" Heaven will protect me, Henry. It seems as if a verita¬
ble angel hovered over my path to shield me from the thou¬
sand perils that assail me."
" The angels do hover around you, Emily; you are so pure,
and good, and true, that they are ever near you, even in your
own heart. Angels always minister to the good, — to those
who resist the temptations of the world."
212
IIATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
"You speak too well of me. But you have been excited
by this tumult, Henry."
"I was a little disturbed; but, unable to help myself, I
could do nothing for others, — not even for you, dearest."
" I know what you would have done, if you had been able.
I know your heart, and I feel just as grateful as though your
strong arm had rescued me."
Dr. Vaudelier, who had succeeded in restoring Vernon —
or, by his true name, Jerome Vaudelier — to consciousness,
now entered the room. He appeared more melancholy and
harassed in mind than Emily had before seen him. His
soul seemed to be crushed by the terrible realization that
his son was a common felon — worse than felon, the perse¬
cutor of innocence. A soul as sensitive as his to the distinc¬
tions of right and wrong could hardly endure the misery of
that hour.
With an absent manner, he inquired into the condition of
the patient, and took the necessary steps to soothe him to
slumber again.
Hatchie, having satisfied himself that the prisoners were
all safe, left them under guard of the woodmen, and returned
to the chamber of the sick man ; and, at the doctor's urgent
request, Emily left Henry to his care.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
213
CHAPTER XXI.
" Friar Can you forgive 1
Elmore. As I would be forgiven."
Lovell.
On the morning following the defeat of Maxwell and Ver¬
non, it became necessary to make some disposition of the
prisoners, so that the conquerors could attend to their daily
duties. Their number was too large to be left upon the
island in the absence of its defenders. A consultation be¬
tween Dr. Vaudelier and the principals of the party took
place. There were so many difficulties in the way of bringing
the invaders to justice, that it was finally decided to release
them all. The burden of the evidence was against the phy¬
sician's son. The doctor, however much he deprecated the
deed, was anxious to save his son from the publicity of a
trial. His friends, seeing the melancholy truth, relieved his
mind by suggesting that all of them be released, which was
accordingly done.
Vernon had entirely recovered from the effects of Hatchie's
blow, and was seated at the window of his apartfaent, con¬
templating the means of escape. At his father's request,
two men had sat by him during the night, as much to prevent
his escape as to minister to his wants. The watchers were
still in the room. Vernon was not yet informed of' the rela¬
tion he sustained to the proprietor of the mansion in which
he now involuntarily abode. He thought that, considering
the unequivocal circumstances under which he had beexi
made a prisoner, he was treated with a great deal of gentle¬
ness ; but to him the reason was not apparent. He had been
214
HATCHIE : A TALE OF 'THE
an alien from his father's house for a long period, and was not
acquainted with the history of the past three or four years
of the doctor's life.
His mind was now occupied in devising the means of
escape ; and just as he had struck upon a feasible project, he
was interrupted by the entrance of Jerry Swinger, who had
been sent by Dr. Vaudelier to ascertain the present frame of
his son's mind,'and broach to him the tidings that he was
beneath his father's roof, — a circumstance of which his
watchers were also ignorant.
"Well, stranger, how do you feel yourself, this morning ?"
asked Jerry.
" Better. That was a cursed hard rap which some one
gave me, last night," replied Vernon, — as, from the force of
habit, we must still call him.
" That are a fack', stranger; the man that gin you that
blow has a moughty hard fist; and I advoise you to keep clear
of him, or he will beat you into mince-meat."
" I will try to do so."
" You will larn to, if he mought have one more chance at
that head of yours."
" Who is he?"
'' He's an oncomnjon fine fellow, and made your cake
dough once before."
"Ah, was it Miss Dumont's — that is, the quadroon's
servant."
" Quadroon, man!—that's all humbug. But he's the
boy, and is bound to fotch his missus out straight, in the
end."
" Well, if she is his mistress, I hope he may. I wish her
no harm, however much appearances belie me."
" Is that a fack, stranger?"
" Certainly; she never did me any harm."
" Then what mought be the reason you were so onmerciful
to her?"
I never used her hardly. My friend said she was his
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
215
slave, and all I wished was to have him obtain his own. In
short, I was paid for my services."
" No doubt of it, stranger. But I can't see how the tenth
part of a man could hunt down such a gal as that, — it's
onnateral. Besides, you did n't believe she was a slave."
" 'Pon my honor I did, or I would not have lifted a finger.
But I see you have released the rest of your prisoners, — I
hope you will be as generous towards me."
" Don't flatter yourself, stranger!"
" I have a mortal aversion to courts of justice."
" Quite likely," returned Jerry, pleased with the man's
frankness.
" Besides, I belong to a respectable family, who will not
mind paying something handsome to avoid exposure."
" Can't be bought, stranger ; besides, respectable villains
arn't any better nor others."
" True ; but, you know, their friends, who are educated,
are more sensitive in such matters than others."
" That mought be true, for's aught I know; but it's mighty
strange you never thought of that sarcumstance before."
" Never was in limbo before."
" That's the go, is't? Look-a-here, stranger, is it the dar¬
bies, or the crime, which brings the disgrace upon the family "?
Accordin' to my notion, — and I believe I've got something
besides nits and lice in my head, — it's the deed, and not
the punishment, that fotches the disgrace. But wliar does
your family live?"
" In New Orleans," replied Vernon, who knew nothing to
the contrary, though we are not sure that, if he had, it would
have made any difference in his reply.
" And your name is Vernon ?"
It is."
" Is that your family name, or only a borried one ?"
" It is my real name," replied Vernon, not a little per¬
plexed by the coolness and method of the woodman's queries.
" I rather guess not," suggested Jerry, mildly.
21G
iiatchie : a tale of tele
" 'Pon my honor —"
" Think again, — maybe you mought fotch the real one to
your mind."
Yernon, whose temper was not particularly gentle under
contradiction, was nettled, and disposed to be angry.
u Perhaps you know best," said he, conquering his pas¬
sion, and assuming one of those peculiarly convincing smiles,
which must be an hereditary possession in the family of the
4' father of lies."
" Perhaps I do," replied Jerry. " If you don't know any
better than that, why, then, I do know best. It arn't
Yernon."
" It is not manly, captain, to insult a prisoner," replied
Vernon, with an air of dignity, which came from the same
source as the liar's smile.
" I don't mean to insult you, stranger ; but facts is facts,
all over the world," said Jerry, untouched by the other's
rebuke.
" What mean you V
" Nothin', stranger, only I know you. Your mother
arn't livin'."
"No," returned Vernon, with a start; for, with all his
"vices and his crimes, a sense of respect for the name and
honor of his family had outlived the good principles imbibed
upon a mother's knee. Although a villain in almost every
sense of the word, there were many redeeming traits in his
character, which the reader will be willing to believe, on
recalling his expressions of conscientiousness uttered to Max¬
well. Family pride is often hereditary, and the reverses and
degradations of a lifetime cannot extinguish it. It was so
with Vernon. His real name was unknown, even among his
most intimate associates. He had early taken the precaution
— not in deference to the feelings of his father — to assume
a name ; it was from pride of birth, which shuddered more
at the thought of a stain upon the family escutcheon than
at all the crimes which may canker and corrode the heart.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
217
. "My mother is not living," continued he; "but how
know you this ?"
" It don't matter, stranger. Have you seen your father
lately?"
" Not for many years. I am an outcast from his pres¬
ence," replied Vernon, with some appearance of feeling.
" That's onfortunate ; does he know what sort of a lark
you are ?"
" I hope not," replied Vernon, with a sickly smile.
" But he does ; he knows all about this ongodly scrape you
got into last night.''
" What mean you?" said the ruffian, sternly.
"Mean? Why, just exactly what I say, Mr. Vaudelier!
Don't start! I know you as well as you know yourself."
Vernon bit his lips; he was confounded at hearing his name
uttered, — a name which had not greeted his ears for many
years. His passion was disarmed before the rude but cut¬
ting speech of the woodman, whose knowledge of human
nature, bred in the woods as he had been, was remarkable.
There are men in the world, supposed to be entirely intract¬
able, who, when rightly approached, prove as gentle as
lambs. There is no evil without its antidote, however
deeply it may be hid from the knowledge of man ; and there is
no man so vile that he cannot be reformed. The image of
God, marred and disfigured as it may be, exists in every man,
as the faultless statue exists in the rough block of marble ;
from which, when the fashioning hand, aided by the magic of
genius, touches it, the image of beauty shall come forth. So,
when man, in whom always exists the elements of the highest
character, shall be approached by the true reformer, — the
highest and truest genius, — the bright ideal shall assume the
actual form.
The woodman had touched a chord in the heart of the
gambler which vibrated at his touch. It was not the
words, but the genuine sympathy with which they were
laden, that overcame the indifference of the vicious man.
19
218
IIATCIIIE : A TALE OF TUB
Perceiving his advantage, the woodman followed it up,
repeatedly disarming the bolt of passion, which was poised
in the mind of his auditor.
"Your father," said Jerry, "is a good man, and you
mought go round the world without finding a better."
" Very true!" replied Yernon, moved to a degree he was
unwilling to acknowledge.
" Now, if you jest turn over a new leaf in the book of life,
and try to fotch out right in the end, I believe the old man
would cry quits on the old score."
" Send those men away, captain ! I will not attempt to
escape."
Jerry complied, and the watchers took their departure.
" Where is my father?"
" Close by, stranger. May be you'd like to see him?"
" On no account!"
"That's a good sign, anyhow," muttered Jerry. "You
will have to see him, I am afraid. You are under his ruff."
Yernon, completely overcome, staggered to a chair, and
covered his face with his hands.
" Not so bad a boy as one mought suppose," soliloquized
Jerry, as he went to the door, and requested the servant to
summon Dr. Vaudelier. " The fellow has fed on husks long
enough, and, as the scripter says, he is goin' to rise and go to
his dad."
"Do not let my ^father see me, — anything, rather than
that!" exclaimed Yernon, rising, and grasping the woodman's
arm. " I am a great villain!"
" That's very true, stranger; but you have got into the
scrape, and the best thing you can do is to get out on't."
" How can I ?"
" Be an henest man."
" I fear I never can be that."
" Try it "t There is something left of you."
At this moment Dr. Vaudelier entered the room. His
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
219
aspect was stern and forbidding, and the son buried his face
in his hands after the first glance at him.
" Jerome," said he, " you will bring my gray hairs with
sorrow down to the grave."
" Easy with him, doctor, easy! He is a little touched,
and, if you manage him right, you can fotch him over. He
is under conviction now. Don't let on yet!"
" Jerome, this is a sorry visit you have made me," con¬
tinued the doctor. " Are you entirely lost to all shame, that
you could thus enter my house with a band of ruffians behind
you?"
" Father," said the convicted Vernon, " I did not know it
was your house, or I could never have done it."
" Alas, that a son of mine should have become a midnight
assassin!'' and Dr. Vaudelier covered his face with his hands,
and sobbed like a child.
"Forgive me, father!" exclaimed the repentant son.
"Forgive me!"
" God and your country alone can forgive crimes like
yours!"
" Easy with him, doctor!" interposed Jerry, fearful lest
the son's repentance should be dissipated before the father's
sternness.
" I will atone for all, to the best of my ability."
" Would that you might do so !"
" I will! Heaven witness my sincerity !"
" Your first act of atonement must be to the lady you have
so deeply injured."
" I would be her slave for life!"
" If you are sincere, you will disclose all you know of the
wrongs which have been inflicted upon her."
" I fear, for her sake, that my knowledge is too limited to
avail anything to her. Maxwell assured me she was his
slave, and showed me the bill of sale. I believed him, or he
could never have had my help."
220
HATCHEB: A TALE OF THE
. " You were too willing to believe "him," said the doctor,
sternly.
" I told him, at the outset, that I would expose all I knew
(which is but little), if I discovered she was not a slave, f
will tell you all."
" Let Miss Dumont be called, Jerry."
Emily came at the summons, and Dr.-Yaudelier informed
her of the position of the matter.
" Cazi you forgive me, Miss Dumont, for the wrong I have
done?"
" Freely, sir; and may God enable you to persevere in the
course you have taken!" ,
" Thank you ! With an angel's prayer, I shall begin the
new life with the strength your good wishes impart.''
Yernon now related all he knew of the machinations of the
attorney, concealing no part of his own or his confederate's
villany. Of the will he knew nothing, his operations having
been confined to the attempts to obtain possession of her
person.
Dr. Yaudelier was satisfied that his son had told the whole
truth. It was a source of much satisfaction to him tha't he
had chosen the better part. - His fervent prayer ascended
that the penitent might be faithful to his good resolutions.
All the.circumstances relating to the will were unknown
to Vernon, which was the occasion of much congratulation
both to his father and to Emily. It seemed to relieve him
from some portion of the guilt which the subsequent transac¬
tions fastened upon him; and, when these circumstances were
related to him, a burst of generous indignation testified that
he, the blackleg, the robber, was above such villany. How¬
ever depraved in some respects, that vice which is commonly
called meanness had no place within him. He was, or rather
had been, of that class of operators who " rob the i*ich to pay
the poor who have no innate love of vice,, only a desire to
be free from wholesome restraint, and have at hand, without
toil or sacrifice, the means of enjoying life to the utmost.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
221
"Jerome," said Dr. Vaudelier, " this Maxwell must be
■watched, and, if you are true to yourself, no one can do this
duty as well as you."
" Trust me, sir! I am strong in this lady's service."
" I shall not doubt you, my son, until I have occasion to
do so. I am satisfied, if Miss Dumont is."
" I feel perfectly confident in the good faith of your son,
and am indebted to him for the zeal he manifests in my
cause."
" Thank you, Miss Dumont," said Vernon. " You are too
generous; but, be assured, your confidence shall not be
abused."
It was determined that Vernon should immediately depart
for Vicksburg, whither Maxwell had gone.
19*
222
hatcihe: a tale of tije
CHAPTER XXII.
" He gives me leave to attend you,
And is impatient till he sees you."
Shakspeare.
It was the afternoon of the same day, as Dr. Vaudelier
was reclining upon a rustic seat near the landing, he was
surprised by the appearance of a canoe coming down the
creek. The canoe contained an elderly gentleman, and a
negro, who, after several unsuccessful attempts, succeeded in
landing the passenger upon the little pier. He was about
fifty years of age, apparently. His hair and whiskers were
a mixture of gray and black; his countenance was full, and
his complexion florid, which contrasted oddly with the green
spectacles that rested upon his nose.
" Do I have the honor of addressing Dr. Yaudelier?" said
the stranger, in a tone so soft and silky that the doctor could
hardly persuade himself it did not proceed from a woman.,
" That is my name, sir; and to whom am I indebted for
this unexpected pleasure?"
"De Guy, sir, — Antoine De Guy, at your service,"
squeaked the visitor, with whom the reader is already ac¬
quainted.
"Well, sir, may I inquire the object of your visit 1"
" Certainly, sir. I am informed there is a lady at present
residing with you, one of the unfortunate persons who were
on board the Chalmetta at the time of her late disaster. A
Miss Dumont."
" Who informed you, sir?"
De Guy hesitated a little, and then said he heard a number
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
223
of gentlemen discuss the late disaster at the hotel in Vicks--
burg ; that one of them had mentioned this fact — he really
could not tell the gentleman's name.
" What is your business with the lady asked the doctor,
to whom the idea of a new enemy of Emily had already pre¬
sented itself.
" That, sir, I can best disclose to the lady in person,"
squeaked the street-lawyer, with a low bow.
" This way then," and the doctor led him to the library,
into which he soon after conducted Emily.
" Miss Dumont ]" said De Guy, rising and making a pro¬
found obeisance as she entered. " My name is De Guy."
Emily bowed slightly, but made no reply.
" May I beg that our interview may be private?" said the
attorney, glancing at Dr. Yaudelier.
" This gentleman is my friend and confidant; it is not
necessary that he should retire," replied Emily, as Dr. Vau-
delier was moving towards the door.
" Very well, madam ; though I think, from the nature of
my business, you would*wish it to be confidential."
"Perhaps I had better withdraw," suggested the physi¬
cian.
"By no means, my dear sir; if this gentleman's visit
relates to business matters, I must beg the favor of your
counsel."
" As you please, Miss Dumont; I come charged with a
message from your uncle, my respected client, Mr. Dumont."
"Indeed, sir!" replied Emily, a slight tremor creeping
through her frame ; " pray deliver it at once."
" It is simply to say your immediate presence at your late
residence is necessary."
" Where did you see toy uncle ?" asked she.
" At Bellevue, madam, yesterday morning. I arrived at
eleven o'clock to-day."
" When did JVfr. Dumont return from his journey up the
river?" asked Dr. Vaudelier.
224
HATCHIE : A TALE OF Tllli
" De Gay reflected a moment; from the shade of displeasure
on his countenance, it was evident he disliked the •interfer¬
ence of the doctor.
" About four days ago."
" When did you last see your uncle, Miss Dumont ?" asked
the doctor.
" I have not seen him since the second day of our journey,"
— which was the time that Jaspar had been left at the
wood-yard.
" Probably, then, he has returned to Bellevue. It is singu¬
lar that, under the instructions of the will, he should leave
you in this unceremonious manner."
" Not at all," interrupted De Guy.
" You speak as though you were familiar with his mo¬
tions," said Dr. Yaudelier, with a penetrating glance at the
attorney.
" To some extent, I am," replied the silky-toned lawyer,
with a smile which was intended to declare his own inno¬
cence in any'-of the plots of Jaspar. " He has voluntarily
acquainted me with some of the particulars of this unfortu¬
nate affair.'^
" Indeed, sir !"
" Such is the fact," continued the attorney, with profes¬
sional ease; " he has sent for Miss Dumont in order to effect
a compromise."
" A compromise !" exclaimed Emily, with disdain ; " there
can be no compromise, short of. restoring, absolutely, my
rights!"
" It is very probable he is quite ready to do so," replied
the accommodating attorney.
" May I ask what has produced this singular and sudden
change in the purpose of my uncle ?" *
" Well, madam, it would be difficult to explain the precise
reasons. His mind seemed troubled; I advised him to un¬
burden to me, which he did. The conclusion of the whole
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
225
matter is, he has taken this step by my advice," said De
Guy, with an air of the deepest humility.
Emily was somewhat moved; by the revelation of the
attorney, from the stern reserve she had manifested, and
said,
" I am grateful for your interest in my behalf."
" Do not mention it, madam. There is a pleasure in
doing one's duty, which is superior to every other gratifi¬
cation."
"May I ask what prompted you to give such advice?"
asked Dr. Vaudelier, incredulously.
" The consciousness that my duty to this lady demanded
it. It was not exactly in keeping with the profession, I am
aware ; but I felt obliged to sacrifice professional consistency
to the call of justice," said the attorney, in such a way as to
leave it doubtful whether he was perpetrating a jest or a
moral axiom.
" Humph !" said the doctor, with a doubtful sneer.
" Principle before professional advantage,* is my motto,
sir," continued De Guy.
" Pray, what gave you the first intimation that all was not
right between this lady and her uncle V *
" The voluntary confession of Mr. Dumont," replied De
Guy, readily.
" You do not believe Mr. Dumont would have abandoned
his purpose, just as it was in the very act of being consum¬
mated, without a strong motive."
" True ; I understand that the body-servant of the late
Colonel Dumont is upon this island. He must have informed
the lady, by this time, of his share in the transaction."
" Well."
" And Mr. Dumont saw the boy the night before he left the
steamer."
" True."
" Was not the reappearance, the rising from the dead,
226
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
of this man, quite enough to convince him that all his plans
had failed?"
" Why eo ?"
. " The boy had the will!"
" It is all plain to me," said Emily, more disposed to trust
De Guy than Dr. Vaudelier was.
" Perfectly plain, madam; it is not at all strange that
he should adopt this course. He must trust to his niece's
good-nature to save him from exposure."
" Perhaps this is only a plan to get the lady into his power
again," suggested Dr. Vaudelier.
" I assure you it is not. He is sorely troubled in mind,
even now, at the guilt which is fastened upon him. His con¬
science is awakened."
" And well it might be," said the doctor.
" True," responded the silky attorney, with an appearance
of honest indignation ; " but when we see a man disposed to
repent, we should be ready to assist him."
Dr. Vaudelier involuntarily turned his thoughts to the
incidents of the morning, — called to mind the feelings which
had been awfkened in the presence of his penitent son, and he
felt the full force of De Guy's argument.
" If Mr. Dumont is disposed to repent of the injury he has
done his niece, and make atonement for it, I should, by all
means, advise her to follow the course which, I am sure,
her gentle nature suggests. ' To err is human ; to forgive,
divine.' The lady is a Christian, and will act in the true
spirit of Christianity."
" I trust she will," responded De Guy, meekly ; " I trust
she will, and, with all convenient haste, try to mitigate his
distress."
" I will! I will!" exclaimed Emily.
" Perhaps you will accompany me, as your uncle sug¬
gests," insinuated De Guy.
** " There is certainly no need of such haste as this," said
the doctor.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
22 T
" Her uncle may change his mind."
" Then his penitence is not sincere, and he cannot be
trusted."
" I should scarcely call it penitence, sir, since it is only
the fear of discovery which has driven him to this step," said
the attorney, branching off into a new school of ethics.
" I can go in a few days," said Emily. " Captain Carroll,
you think, is out of danger now ?"
De Guy started, and a scowl of the deepest malignity
overshadowed his countenance, which had before been that
of a meek and truthful man. The change was so sudden
that he seemed to be a man within a man, and the two crea¬
tures of an opposite character. Neither the doctor nor
Emily noticed the start, or the sudden change of expression ;
and the attorney, seemingly aware of the danger of wearing
two faces, restored the former aspect.
" I think he is entirely out of danger," replied Dr. Vaude-'
lier, in reply to Emily's question. " Perhaps he will be able
to accompany you in a few days."
Emily blushed, but made no reply, other than a sweet
smile, betokening the happiness such an event would give
her.
" I fear, madam, the delay will be dangerous," suggested
De Guy, who did not relish the proposition of the doctor.
" Why dangerous 1 If Mr. Dumont changes his mind, we
have the means of proving that that miserable will is false."
" You forget, sir, that Mr. Benson may be lost, and with
him the will," interposed Emily, whose love of truth did not
enable her to conceal the weakness of her case.
" Indeed! Is the will in the hands of a third party?" said
the attorney, with apparent indifference, while, in reality, he
was inwardly chuckling with delight.
" It matters not," replied the doctor ; " the lady's case is
safe. You can inform Mr. Dumont that his niece will pre¬
sent herself in a week or ten days."
228
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THIS
" But, my dear sir, the delay will be fatal, both to the
lady and her uncle," said the attorney, with alarm.
" It cannot be helped,'' said the doctor.
" Mr. Dumont's health, I fear, will render it unsafe to
wait so long. Miss Dumont does not wish her uncle to die
unforgiven."
" I will go, sir ; I will go at once," exclaimed Emily,
shocked at the condition of Jaspar, and anxious, as was her
nature, to relieve the sufferings he must endure in her ab¬
sence. She forgot how basely he had wronged her— how he
had attempted her life; the divine sentiment, "Love your
enemies," prevailed over every other consideration.
" Die unforgiven," muttered the doctor. " Is he sick?"
" He is, sir, and near his end."
" Why have you not mentioned this circumstance before?
It seems of sufficient importance to merit a passing word."
" I wished not to distress the lady. I think I hinted that
he was in great distress."
" I fear some evil, Miss Dumont."
" Be assured, sir, if Mr. Dumont meditates any further
wrong, he has not the power of putting it into effect. He is
prostrate upon his bed, and if his niece does not see him
soon, it will be too late, if it is not so already. The
stricken man must soon stand for judgment in another world,"
said De Guy, solemnly.
" This alters the case," said the doctor, musing.
" But, sir," continued the attorney, " I was aware that,
after what has happened, my mission would be attended with
many difficulties, and I have not come unprepared to over¬
come them. I do not wonder that you have no confidence, —
I confess I should not have, under like circumstances. You
know Dr. Le Verier ?" and the attorney drew from his pocket
a bundle of papers, and opening one, he glanced at the signa¬
ture upon it, as he pronounced the name.
" I do, very well," replied the doctor.
" Our family physician !" exclaimed Emily.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
229
" Here, madam, is his certificate of your uncle's physical
condition," said De Guy, handing her the paper.
Emily read the paper, and handed it to the doctor.
" Very satisfactory," said he; "you will pardon me for
doubting your word —"
"Don't mention it, sir," replied De Guy, blandly. "I
fully appreciate your motive, and honor you for it. And you
know Mr. Faxon'?"
" O, yes ; what of him," said Emily, eagerly.
" A letter from him," replied De Guy, giving her the
missive.
Emily hastily broke the seal, and, as she examined its con¬
tents, the attorney appeared uneasy, and watched her with a
solicitude such as attorneys seldom manifest in their clients,
especially if the pockets of the latter be empty.
" I will go immediately!" exclaimed Emily, as she fin¬
ished reading the letter. " Mr. Faxon says my Uncle Jaspar
is quite a different man, and is ready to restore all my rights."
" Finally," said De Guy, " here is your uncle's own sig¬
nature. This letter I wrote by his dictation, but he, with
much difficulty, signed his name."
Emily perused the paper, which was a promise that Jaspar
would restore all, and conclude^ with an earnest request for
her to return to Bellevue with all possible haste. Emily recog¬
nized the signature, though it was apparently written by the
trembling hand of si dying man.
" The papers are quite satisfactory," said Dr. Yaudelier,
as he completed the reading of the note from Jaspar. " If
you had presented them at first, I should have been spared
my uncourteous suspicions. But you will pardon them, and
consider that the lady's case requires the utmost caution."
" It was only in deference to the lady's nerves that I broke
the- intelligence gradually. I was quite willing to sacrifice
myself, for the moment, in your good opinion, for her sake.
I trust you will appreciate and regard my motives, as I do
yours."
230
Henry Carroll, as may be supposed, was much against the
plan of Emily's returning to Bellevue with De Guy. But a
death-bed scene was a difficult thing to reason against, and
he was obliged to yield the point before the earnest eloquence
of Emily, and more calm persuasions of Dr. Vaudelier.
It was arranged that Hatchie should accompany her, and
that the party should take the morning boat from Vicksburg.
Hatchie was immediately summoned to receive instruc¬
tions in relation to their departure.
At the mention of Hatchie's name, the attorney grew mar¬
vellously, uneasy, and suddenly recollected that the negro
who had conveyed him to the island was waiting for him.
He therefore proposed that Dr. Vaudelier should escort Em¬
ily to Vicksburg in the morning, which was readily agreed
to, and De Guy made a precipitate retreat, without confront¬
ing the mulatto.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
231
CHAPTER XXIII.
" Jaffier. 0, Belvidera !
Belvidera. Why was I last night delivered to a villain 1
Jaffier. Ha ! a villain 1
Belvidera. Yes, to a villain ! " Otway.
Agreeably to the arrangement of the previous night, Emily
was on board of the " Montezuma," prepared to commence
her journey to Bellevue. While De Guy conducted Emily to
the ladies' cabin, Hatchie was getting her few articles of
baggage on board, and the boat was fairly under weigh with¬
out the faithful mulatto's having had a sight of the new pro¬
tector of Emily. The attorney congratulated himself on this
circumstance; his mind had thus been released from the
pressure of a most painful anxiety. His plan was now
accomplished.
But the meeting could not be much longer deferred. De
Guy, however, now that they were free from the friends of
Emily, no longer dreaded it.
The dinner hour arrived, and Hatchie Avas standing by the
side of his mistress on the gallery, when De Guy appjjpached
and announced the fact. His voice startled Hatchie. It was
the same squeaking tone he had heard at Bellevue on the
night of his escape. He turned to look upon the speaker,
and was confounded to behold the very person who had
plotted with Jaspar on that memorable night! With a
presence of mind which never deserted him, he held his
peace, resolved not to frighten his mistress by exposing the
fact.
232
hatchie: a tale of the.
Hatch ie stood lost in thought on the gallery long after De
Guy had conducted his mistress to the dinner-table. The
mulatto was in a quandary, — a worse quandary than the
congressional hero of Kentucky has described in any of his
thousand relations of hair-breadth escapes. His mistress
was fairly committed to her new destiny, and how could he
extricate her 1
He resolved to do the only thing he possibly could do, — to
.watch unceasingly, to be ever ready to defend his mistress in
case of necessity. The papers which De Guy had brought
from Bellevue, and which he heard described by the doctor,
did much to assure him that no evil was intended towards
her ; but the man who had been a villain once was, in his
opinion, exceedingly apt to be so again.
Emily was ill at ease during the passage; not that she
felt unsafe, or dreaded treachery, but something seemed to
whisper that evil might be near her. An undefined sensa¬
tion of doubt seemed to beset her path, and urge upon her
the unpleasant necessity of extreme caution. She was con¬
scious of being engaged in a good work. She had forgiven
her great enemy, and was now on her way to smooth his
dying pillow. There was something lofty and beautiful in
•the thought, and she derived much consolation from it.
De Guy rarely intruded himself upon her notice during the
passage. At meal-hours he was scrupulously polite and
attentive, but he was as cold and formal as she could desire.
She never ventured upon the promenade deck, unless her
faithful Hatchie was near.
The mulatto, with all his watchfulness, was unable to dis¬
cover any indications of treachery on the part of De Guy,
though an apparently confidential conversation with the cap¬
tain of the steamer, on the night before their arrival at New
Orleans, had rather an unfavorable appearance.
It was late at night when the Montezuma arrived at New
Orleans. The steamer quietly took her berth at the levee,
so that few of the passengers took any notice of their arrival,
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
233
and contentedly turned over in their berths to wait the advent
of the coming day.
Hatchie, who occupied a room near the boiler deck, had
been awakened by the confusion of making fast the steamer.
His watchful vigil over the safety of his mistress did not
permit him to slumber while the possibility of danger ex¬
isted. He had, therefore, risen ; but scarcely had he com¬
pleted his dress, when the door of his room was suddenly
opened, and himself violently seized by two stout men. The
attack had been so sudden, and the movements of the assail¬
ants so well directed, that resistance was hopeless. Before
he fully realized the presence of his foes, his hands were
pinioned behind him. In this condition, without knowing
why or by whom he was assailed, he was hurried away to
the calaboose.
At an early hour in the morning carriages and drays began
to assemble on the levee, and all the noise and bustle of land¬
ing passengers, baggage and freight, commenced.
Emily Dumont, as soon as it was fairly light, rose from
her couch, and made her preparations to leave the steamer.
Fully equipped for her journey to Bellevue, she entered the
cabin, where De Guy soon presented himself.
"Where is Hatchie?" was the first question she askecU;
for Hatchie had always been on the spot whenever and
wherever she needed his services.
" I have taken the liberty to send him up to the St. Charles
with your luggage. You will, of course, breakfast there,"
said the attorney, blandly.
" Such was not my intention," replied she, as a cold
tremor — she knew not why—"agitated her.
4' I am sorry to have mistaken your purpose ; the ride to
Bellevue is a long one to take without any refreshment."
" I mind it not; my haste is too great to admit of any
delay."
" I sent by your servant to order an early breakfast, and a
carriage at seven o'clock."
20*
234
hatchie: a tale of the
" Very well, I 'will conform to the arrangement you have
made," replied Emily, with a dissatisfied air.
, A carriage was called from the mass which had congre¬
gated, whose drivers were not a whit behind those of the
metropolitan city in earnest perseverance; and De Guy
assisted her into it, seating himself at a respectful distance
oh the forward seat.
Now, the act of engaging a cab or a carriage is of itself
quite an easy matter ; but we question whether passengers
are generally as well suited as in the present instance. With¬
out troubling the worthy Mr. De Guy with any foolish queries
as to where he should drive them, the Jehu mounted his box,
and conducted his team apparently to the entire satisfaction
of his fare. It may be that the intelligent driver had a way
of divining the wishes of his customers ; or it may be that De
Guy, in deference to any supposed repugnance to business
matters on the part of his companion, had previously dis¬
cussed this topic. Without any design of prejudicing the
reader's mind in favor of the latter supposition, we confess
our inclination to accept it as correct.
Emily vainly attempted to assure herself that her com¬
panion was conducting her in good faith to the home of her
early years. An undefined feeling of insecurity was pain¬
fully besetting her, whichever way she turned. She consid¬
ered and reconsidered the evidences he had brought to Cot¬
tage Island of the truth of his own statements, and of his
own trustworthiness. It was all in vain. Could those papers
have been forgeries ? It was a terrible thought to her.
The carriage stopped, and the attorney invited her to
alight. Change — anything, was a relief to the painful sen¬
sations which had almost overpowered her, and without
reflection she did so. Her faculties were so confused she
did not notice^that it was not the private entrance of the St.
Charles. She took everything for granted, and accepted the
offered arm of De Guy. She crossed the broad side-walk,
and, raising her eyes, was overwhelmed by seeing at the side
MISSISSIPPI AND TIIE SOU'III-WKST.
235
of the door she was about to enter the sign of '' Anthony
Maxwell, Attorney and Counsellor at Law.''''
" Please to walk up stairs," squeaked the attorney, draw¬
ing her after him to the inside of the door, which he imme-
dately closed and bolted.
" Not a step further, sir !" said she, with as much firm¬
ness as she could command. "What means this? Ami
again betrayed ?"
" Nay, nay, madam, walk up quietly," said De Guy, in a
soothing tone, as he applied a little gentle force to the arm
he held.
" Unhand me, sir !" screamed Emily, as loud as her agi¬
tated condition would permit.
But De Guy Reeded her not; and, without condescending
to utter another word, he took her up like a child, and bore
her up the stairs to Maxwell's office. Turning the key to
prevent interruption, he opened the lawyer's private apart¬
ment in the rear, and placed the fainting girl upon the bed,
and retired.
Unlocking the office door, he was confronted by an old
negress, who had charge of the sweeping and cleaning depart¬
ment of the building.
" Sar! what's all dis about?" screamed she, in no gentle
tone ; for the colored lady had witnessed De Guy's achieve¬
ment from the stair-case above.
" Hush, Dido "
" Sar ! who are you dat come inter Massa Maxwell's room
widout no leave ?"
" Never mind who I am, Dido. There is a lady in the bed¬
room, by whom Mr. Maxwell sets his life — do you hear ? —
sets his life. She has fainted, and you must take care of
her," — and De Guy slipped a half-eagle into the negress'
hands.
" Dat alters de case," said the black lady, eying the money
with much satisfaction. " Massa Maxwell's a sly dog. I
take good care ob de lady —not de fus time, nuder."
236
hatchie: a tale of the
" Don't let her get away ; take good care of her, and you
shall have half a dozen just such pieces."
" Never fear, Massa, I's use to de business."
De Guy left the building, satisfied, it would seem, of the
negress' fidelity.
mississippi and tiie south-west.
237
CHAPTEE XXIV.
" Lieut. Forgive me, sir, what I'm compelled t' obey :
An order for your close confinement.
King H. Whence comes it, good lieutenant 1
Lieut. Sir, from the Duke of Gloster.
King H. Good-night to all, then ! " Shakspeare.
Connected with the estate at Bellevue, of which Jaspar
Dumont was now in actual possession, was a small slave jail.
It had been constructed under the immediate direction of
Jaspar, to afford a place of confinement for the runaway or
refractory negroes of the plantation. It was located at some
distance from the proprietary mansion, and from the quarters
of the negroes. Jaspar's taste in matters of this kind was of
the most refined character, and he had caused it to be con¬
structed on a plan and in a manner that would seem to bid
defiance to the skill of a Baron Trenck, or a Stephen Bur¬
roughs. The material was granite, brought at no trifling
expense from the North. There were no windows upon the
sides, and only one entrance, which was secured by double
iron doors. Light and air were supplied, in meagre quanti¬
ties, by means of a skylight in the roof, which was regulated
by a cord passing down upon the outside.
This jail, either by accident or design, was so constructed
that any noise inside was not transmitted to the outside.
"Whether this was because of the reflecting properties of
the walls, which might have sent the sound echoing out at
238
IIATCUIE : A TALE OF TIII5
the skylight on the apex of the four-sided roof, or because of
some other natural causes, we shall not take up the reader's
time in discussing. Its inmates might startle Heaven with
their cries, but certainly every ear on earth below must be
deaf to their wail. This circumstance seemed typical of the
actual fact of oppression; but we are sure that Jaspar never
meant to typify the groans, by man unheeded, of the victims
of tyranny ascending to be heard above.
It was the day after the events related in the last chapter,
and the negro jail was tenanted; but not by a refractory or a
runaway slave. It was now devoted to a more dignified pur¬
pose, being occupied by a white man and his wife, the
victims of Jaspar Dumont's hatred and fears. They had
already been prisoners for the past forty-eight hours. No
sound from the wide, wide world without had reached them ;
and, though the man had shouted himself hoarse in endeavors
to arrest the attention of any casual passer-by, the sound of
his voice had risen to Heaven, but had not been heard by any
mortal ear.
On a heap of dirty straw, in one corner, lay a female. She
was feeble and helpless. By her side, gazing sadly upon her,
was her companion, pale and haggard, and apparently con¬
quered in spirit. The sufferings of the frail being by his
side seemed to pierce him to the soul. He felt not for him¬
self ; his thoughts, his feelings, all were devoted to her, whom
he had loved and respected through many vicissitudes, whose
kindly sympathy had cheered his heart in many of the sever¬
est of earth's trials. They had passed through peril and
poverty together, and now the cup of tribulation seemed full
to the brim. They were doomed to death, — not to the death
of the malefactor, but as victims of private interest. No
friendly jailer had been near, to bring them even a cup of
cold water to assuage their consuming thirst. Not a morsel
of food had they tasted since their incarceration ! The terri¬
ble doom to which they were consigned was too apparent;
there was nothing to foreshadow even the slightest hope of
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
239
redemption. A few days' intercourse with their inhuman
persecutor had demonstrated too plainly that he was equal
to any crime which his own safety demanded.
The female turned uneasily upon her rude and filthy bed.
Her companion bent over her, and, as a flood of tears poured
from his sunken eyes, he imprinted a kiss upon her pale
cheek.
"Do you feel no better, Delia?" asked he, tenderly.
" Alas, no! The sands of life are fast ebbing out. 0, for
a single drop of cold water!''
" God in heaven! must I see her die, with no power to
save ?" exclaimed Dalhousie, — for it was he, — striking his
hands violently upon his forehead.
" Do not let me distress you, Francois! Let me die! — I
am ready to die," said she, faintly.
Dalhousie could make no reply. His emotions were too pow¬
erful to permit his utterance. Maddened by despair, into which
the terrible situation of his cherished wife had plunged him,
he paced the jail with long strides, gazing about him, as if to
seek some desperate remedy for his woes. Escape had
scarcely presented itself to hia mind. He had not the energy
of character which rises superior to every ill, and had bent
himself supinely to the fate which awaited him. To work
through the solid walls of the jail seemed to him an impossi¬
bility, even if provided with the necessary implements. The
scheme was too vast for his mind, unaccustomed, as it was,
to contend with great difficulties.
Despair seemed to create, at this moment, a new man
within him, armed with energy to break through every obsta¬
cle which might oppose him. His feeble, suffering companion
demanded an effort for her relief, and such a demand even his
supine nature could not resist.
Near one side of the jail was a shallow pit, which had,
apparently, been quite recently excavated. In it lay the
shovel with which the earth had been thrown out.
Dalhousie fixed his eyes upon the pit. A new thought
240
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
animated him. "I began to dig that-pit for gold; I will
continue it for water," muttered he, as he seized the shovel,
and commenced digging. Awhile he labored with the energy
of desperation; but, enfeebled by long fasting, and unused
to such severe toil, he soon felt his strength give way. It
appeared to be his only hope, the only ministration of com¬
fort to the loved one beside him, and he strove manfully
against the weakness which beset him. An hour he labored;
but not a drop of moisture rewarded his toil. Overcome by
his exertions, he seated himself upon the brink of the pit,
and gave way to the agonizing emotions which filled his soul.
A sigh from his wife roused him to a new effort, and, par¬
tially invigorated by the few moments' rest, he again applied
himself to his task. The ground was of a moist, character,
and he had every encouragement of soon finding the coveted
treasure. Animated by this hope, he redoubled his efforts,
and for another hour despair nerved his arm, and strength¬
ened his sinking frame. Still the buried treasure eluded his
search. Exhausted by his exertions, he sunk heavily upon
the side of the pit, and the big tears coursed down his hollow
cheeks. Deserted by man, he felt that there was no God in
heaven; and no divinely-born sentiment came to cheer him
in the hour of his despondency. He felt that the hand of
death must soon take him and his loved wife into its cold
embrace. With much effort he drew himself to her side, and
endeavored to compose his mind for the struggle with the
destroyer.
Two hours he lay by her side ; but his time had not yet
come. Rested from the severe fatigue he had undergone, he
felt a new vigor stealing through his frame. Something like
hope again flitted before his desponding mind, and, partially
raising himself from his recumbent posture, he gazed about
the apartment. The pit he had dug was yawning near him.
A. shudder convulsed his frame, as it reminded him of the open
grave that gaped to receive him. Had he not dug this grave
for himself?
MISSISSIPPI AND TIIE SOUTH-WEST.
241
The instinct of self-preservation drew him to his feet.
Seizing the shovel, he advanced to the pit, when, to his
unspeakable delight, he perceived that the bottom of it was
covered with black, dirty water. The sight roused his dor¬
mant energies, and he saw before him years of life and
happiness. Leaping into the pit, he drank from the putrid
pool, using the palms of his hands for a drinking vessel.
Tearing off the top of his glazed cap, he succeeded in mak¬
ing a very tolerabjp cup of it, with which he conveyed some
of the precious liquid to the parched lips of his sinking wife.
The act roused her from the absent mood to which she had
abandoned herself. She took a long draught of the discol¬
ored beverage, and, had it been the pure mountain spring, its
effect could scarcely have been more magical. It not only
refreshed the body, but inspired the mind. With this dawn¬
ing hope the poor prisoners built the flimsy fabric of future
joy and safety.
Dalhousie had lived years in the hours of his confinement.
Experience, the stern mentor of humanity, had ministered to
him, and imparted the strength and resolution which often
require years to mature. Thoughts, and feelings, and ener¬
gies, to which he had before been a stranger, came bounding
through his mind, as the mighty river, which, having broken
away the feeble barrier man had set in its course, roars and
thunders down its before forsaken path. The powerful
impulse of hope, stimulated by this successful act, made him
curse his gupineness in calmly yielding to the awful fate
which awaited him. His best hours — his hours of unim¬
paired strength — had now passed away ; there was no foun¬
tain at which he could renew it. But energy now burned
within him, and, like an invisible power, seemed to drive
him on to some great act. The impulse was irresistible ;
hopeless as his case had before appeared, he determined to
escape. But how? This question had not yet presented
itself. Escape from the jail! — from death ! — himself, —
more than himself, his wife ! Stone walls lost their appalling
21
242
hatchie: a tale op the
firmness, and were no more than downy masses, which his
breath could blow away.
Animated by this irresistible impulse, he took the shovel,
and sounded upon the walls ; but they were everywhere firm
and solid beneath his blow. It seemed useless to his usually
inert mind, and he was about to abandon himself again to
the jaws of despair, when a new thought suggested itself.
Fired with the inspiration of the new idea, he impulsively
proceeded to carry it into execution. By the side of the
wall, with vigorous strokes, he commenced digging, with the
intention of undermining it. Without a thought of his
enfeebled body, he plied the shovel with the energy of
desperation. Instead of making a calm calculation, and
proceeding with such an economy of strength as would
enable him to complete the work, he labored as though
the task before him could be easily and quickly accom¬
plished.
His wife, somewhat revived by the draught she had taken,
penetrated the purpose of her husband; but she saw that his
strength must entirely fail him ere the work could be accom¬
plished.
"You must husband your strength, Francois," said she;
" rest a little."
" The hope of deliverance is too strong to let me sacrifice
another moment in idleness," replied Dalhousie, without
ceasing from his'labors.
"But, Francois, you will kill yourself, if you work so
hard."
" That would be an honorable death, at least/'
" And leave me to linger here 1 —No, let us die together,
if die we must. Perhaps I can help you," — and she strove
to rise.
" Do not rise, Delia, —keep quiet; I am strong, and will
yet deliver you from this dungeon. Lay quiet, dear ; do not
add to my distress."
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
243
" I fear I must lay still,—I cannot rise," said she, sinking
back with the exhaustion of the effort.
Dalhousie threw down his shovel, and hastened to her
side.
" Do not attempt to rise again, dear," said he. " Let me
get you some more water."
He again filled the rude cup at the pit, and, after she had
taken a long draught of it, he laved her head, an operation
which appeared to refresh her.
" Do you feel better V
11 Much better."
" Now keep perfectly quiet, and I will resume my task."
" I will; but pray, Francois, do not work so hard ; tem¬
per your enthusiasm with reason. You cannot succeed, unless
you are careful."
" I will, dear ; I will rest every little while."
Dalhousie resumed his labor, and, convinced by his wife's
reasoning, he labored more moderately. "While he toils at
this apparently hopelessly task, we will return to the night
when we left him in the library, after having obtained posses¬
sion of the secret packet.
The overseer, after leaving the library, was perplexed to
determine his future course. He was in possession of a
mighty secret, a secret which involved his employer's very
existence. The realization of a thousand golden dreams was
at hand, and he was resolved, without an over-nice balancing
of conscientious scruples, to make the most of the informa¬
tion he had obtained. There were two methods of proced¬
ure open to him, and his perplexity was occasioned by this
fact. In this instance his resolution was not at fault, for
the reins were in his own hands. It was not like hewing a
path through the granite barriers of difficulty, against the
very frown of destiny. He imagined that some overruling
power had made the path, and invited him to walk in it.
Should he make his fortune by means of the uncle or the
niece ? The question of his existence had narrowed itself
244
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
down to this point. It was sure, he felt, from one or the
other.
Being of a naturally generous disposition, with strong
affections, and having not a little of the natural sense of
justice in his composition, he was decidedly in favor of per¬
mitting the niece to enrich him. This was his personal
preference ; but he was sensible of the truth of the axiom,
that individual preferences must sometimes be sacrificed to
the success of the main object ; and, if the circumstances
demanded it, he felt able to make the sacrifice.
If he forwarded the packet to its proper destination, the
lady would, without doubt, be soon restored to her posses¬
sions. This was the course he preferred, as well as the
course which justice and morality demanded, feut, alas! his
moral sentiment was not sufficiently developed to make him
pause before taking the opposite course, if his present and
temporary interest should seem to demand it. A departure
from the strict injunction of conscience is sure to bring mis¬
ery ; and this was doubly true in his case.
The uncle wasr in actual possession, and he called to mind
the old maxim, that " possession is nine points in the law."
He was unwilling to risk the bright prospects, which had so
suddenly opened upon him, on the tenth point. Fearing that
Jaspar's unscrupulous character would enable him to defeat
the heiress, he had not the courage to do his duty and trust
Heaven for the reward.
With this view of his position, he reluctantly — we will
do him the justice to say reluctantly — abandoned the pro¬
ject of restoring the niece to her birthright. Thus was the
great purpose of his life narrowed down to one point, and he
retired to his pillow to consider in what manner he should
approach Jaspar.
Simple as this single point had before appeared, he found,
on reflection, that it was environed with difficulties and dan¬
gers. Jaspar was intrenched in his own castle, and it would
require some address even to approach near enough to huld a
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST. 245
parley. Conclusive as were the evidences in his possession of
Jaspar's perfidy, they might, by the aid of cunning and gold,
be made to appear as forgeries, gotten up for the purpose of
extorting money. The stake was a great one, and he deter¬
mined with a bold hand to play the game.
21*
246
HATCHIE: A TALE OP THE
CHAPTER XXV.
" Cassim. At such a time as this, it is not meet
That every nice offence should bear its comment.
—You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus ! "
Shakspeare.
Jaspar Dumont, on the morning after the abstraction of the
papers by Dalhousie, rose from his inebriated slumbers; but
his rest was a misnomer. The strong excitement, which a
few weeks before had served to keep his mind occupied, had
now passed away. His villahy was accomplished; but it
had not purchased the satisfaction be coveted—it had cost
too much sacrifice of soul. Brandy was his only solace ; and
even this only conjured up demons of torture in his fevered
imagination.
He was conscious that on the previous night he had drank
too much. There seemed to "be a chasm in his recollection
which all his efforts could not fill. He might, while in a
measure unconscious of his actions, have betrayed some of his
momentous secrets. The overseer, of whose presence he had
an indistinct remembrance, might have obtained some further
clue to the great mystery. These were annoying reflections,
and while he resolved to be more temperate in future, how
fervently he adjured his patron demon to ward off any danger
he might have courted in his inebriation !
After his accustomed ride through the cane-fields, he
retired to the library. The decanter had been replenished
with brandy, and his late resolutions did not deter him from
freely imbibing of its contents. The equilibrium was restored.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
247
His mind, stimulated by the fumes of the liquor, resumed its
usual buoyancy. He paced the room, and drank frequent
draughts of the fiery beverage.
Suddenly he stopped in his perambulation, as a faint recol¬
lection of the lost key came to his mind. He searched his
pockets; but it could not be found. The drawer was locked.
Suspicious as he was fearful, he trembled lest in his oblivious
moments he had compromised his secret. He sent for the
overseer, determined to know and provide for the worst.
After the messenger left, his reflections assumed a new
direction. He tried to laugh away his suspicions, applied
epithets to himself which it would not have been safe for
another to have applied, and in good round oaths cursed his
own stupidity. In his privacy he was a pattern of candor,
and bestowed upon himself such a rating as, to another,
would have given fair promise of good results.
He satisfied himself that the drawer could contain nothing
to implicate him; and, even if it did, why, he was safe enough
in the hands of Dalhousie. The overseer he regarded as a
kind of thing, who, while he retained him in his service,
would never injure him. Jaspar, for some reason or other,
had formed no very elevated opinion of Dalhousie's acute-
ness. He had bought him off cheaply once, and could do so
again. If he refused to be bought off cheaply, — and Jaspar
grated his teeth at the reflection, — why, a method could be
devised to get rid of him.
While engaged in these musings, a knock at the door star¬
tled him to his feet. It was not the overseer's knock.
A servant announced a strange gentleman, who declined to
give his name.
"Show him in," said Jaspar, re-seating himself, and
striving to assume a tranquillity which did not pervade his
mind. Since the consummation of his base scheme he had
been a prey to nervous starts, and the announcement of a
stranger stirred the blood in its channels, and sent his heart
into his throat. This nervous excitement had been increasing
248
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
upon him every day, and his devotion to the bottle by no
means tended to allay it. Such are the consequences of
guilt. If the victim, before he yields to temptation, could
anticipate the terrible state of suspense into which his guilt
would plunge him,—if he could see only a faint reflection
of himself, starting at every sound in nervous terror, as
before the appearance of some grim spirit of darkness,—he
would never have the courage to commit a crime.
The stranger entered the library. It was De Guy. At his
appearance Jaspar's fears gave way to a most uncontrollable
fit of passion. *
" Villain!" exclaimed he, " how dare you enter my house,
after what has passed ?"
"Gently,my dear sir! You forget that we have been
friends, and that our mutual safety requires us to remain so
still," said De Guy, in his silky tone sind compromising
manner.
Jaspar compressed his lips, and grated his teeth, while a
smothered oath escaped him. But his rage soon found a
more audible expression.
" Friends !" By , I should think we had been friends!"
said he, fiercely.
" Certainly, my dear sir,—friends.''''
" Then save me from my friends!"
'' Better say your enemies! I fear you have a great many.''
" Save me from both! May I ask to what fortunate cir¬
cumstance I am indebted for the honor of this visit 1'' said
Jaspar, sarcastically mimicking the silky tones of the attor¬
ney.
" I came to forward our mutual interest."
" Then, by , you can take yourself off! You and I will
part company."
" Indeed, sir, this is ungenerous, after I have assisted you
into your present position, to treat me in this manner,"
replied the attorney, smilingly shaking his head.
"I am not indebted to you for my lifo, or my position!
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-W.EST.
249
Y,ou have been a traitor, sir! — a traitor ! and, tear out my
heart, but I will swing, before I have anything further to do
with you!" roared Jaspar, with compound emphasis, as he
rose from his chair, and advanced to the brandy-bottle.
" Gently, Mr. Dumont, gently! Do not get into a passion!
May I ask what you mean by traitor ? Have I not served you
faithfully?" interrogated the attorney, with a smile of assur¬
ance.
"Served me faithfully!" sneered Jaspar. "You served
me a cursed shabby trick above Baton Rouge, at the wood-
yard."
" My dear sir, you wrong me !' I did not injure you bodily,
I trust?"
" No, sir ! You have not that satisfaction."
" I rejoice to hear it. All that I did was for your benefit,"
returned the attorney, complacently.
" Do you take me for an idiot?"
" By no means ! You have shown your shrewdness too
often to permit such a supposition."
"What do you mean, then?" said Jaspar, a little molli¬
fied, in spite of himself, by the conciliatory assurance of De
Guy.
" Simply that your interest demanded your absence. I had
not the time, then, to convince you of the fact; and, I trust,
you will pardon the little subterfuge I adopted to promote
your own views."
Jaspar opened his eyes, and fixed them in a broad stare
upon his companion.
" Explain yourself," said he.
" Everything has come out right, — has it not?"
" Yes."
" You are in quiet possession?"
" Yes."
" Then, sir, you may thank me for that little plan of mine
at the wood-yard. If I had not prevented you'from continuing
your journey, all your hopes would have been blasted."
250
^HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
"I do not understand you."
"Where is your niece now?" asked the attorney, as a
shade of anxiety beclouded his brow.
"She was lost in the explosion," replied Jaspar, with a
calmness with which few persons can speak of the loss • of
near friends.
The attorney was particularly glad at this particular mo¬
ment to' ascertain that this, as he had before suspected, was
Jaspar's belief, and that this belief had lulled him into secu¬
rity. He was not, however, so candid as to give expression
to his sentiments on the subject.
"Precisely so!" exclaimed the attorney, as though no
shade of doubt or anxiety had crossed him. " The Chalmetta
exploded her boiler."
" Well!"
" Both Miss Dumont and her troublesome lover were lost,
— were they not ?"
"Yes."
" And, if you had continued on board, you would probably
have shared their fate."
"Yes; but do you mean to say you blowed the steamer
up ?" asked Jaspar, with a sneer.
" Exactly so!"
" Fool! do you expect me to believe such a miserable rig¬
marole as this?"
" I hope you will, for it is strictly true," returned the
attorney, convincingly.
Jaspar looked incredulous, and resorted to the brandy-
bottle, which seemed to bear the same relation to him that the
oracle of Delphi did to the ancient Greeks.
" You do not think me capable of inventing such a story,
I trust," said De Guy, seriously.
" Ha! ha ! ha! you have joined the church, have n't you,
since we met last?"
" I see, sir, you think, because I assisted you in your
plans, that I have no honor, no conscience, no hunlanity.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
251
Why, sir, what I have done for you waa only a duty which
my religion demanded of me."
"Your creed must be an original one!" replied Jaspar,
with a sickly laugh.
" It is an original one. You thought yourself better enti¬
tled to your brother's property than this giddy girl. So did
I; and it was my duty to see justice done. A matter of
conscience with me, upon my honor."
"Enough of this!" said Jaspar, sternly, for a joke soon
grew stale with him. v
" Be it so; but remember the story is true."
"And you did me the favor to blow up the steamer!"
sneered Jaspar.
" At the risk of my own life, I did. I bribed the firemen
to crowd on the steam, and the engineers to keep down the
safety-valve, — all under the excitement of a race, though
with special reference to your interest."
" "Was this part of your creed, too?"
" Certainly," and the attorney launched out into a disser¬
tation of theology and kindred topics, with which we will not
trouble the reader.
Jaspar heard it not, for he was busy in considerations of a
less metaphysical character. He was thinking of his present
position, and of the overseer, whose step he heard on the
veranda.
" I see," said he, interrupting De Guy, " you have been
my friend."
This remark was the result of his deliberations. He might
need the services of the attorney.
"I expect my overseer on business in a moment," contin¬
ued he, " and I should like to see you again, after he has
gone. May I trouble you to step into this room for a few
moments'?"
"Certainly," replied De Guy, who was congratulating
himself on his success in conciliating the " bear of Bellevue,"
as- he styled him among his boon companions.
252
hatchie: a tale of the
Jaspar closed the door upon the attorney, and was in the
act of lighting a cigar, when Dalhousie entered. The over¬
seer endeavored to discover in the countenance of his em¬
ployer some indications of his motive in sending for him; but
Jaspar maintained a perfect indifference, which defeated his
object, Neither spoke for several moments ; but at last the
overseer, embarrassed by the silence, said,
" You sent for me, Mr. Duruont V
"I did," said Jaspar, suddenly, as though the words had
roused him from his profound abstraction ; " I did ; one of
my keys is missing, so that I cannot open the drawer.
You arranged its contents, I believe."
" Yes," said Dalhousie, flustered, for he was not so
deeply skilled in the arts of deception as to carry them on
without some compunction; " but I left the key in the
drawer."
" You see it is not there," said Jaspar, fixing his sharp
gray eye upon the overseer.
" It is not," said Dalhousie, advancing to the secretary.
" Probably it has fallen upon the floor—" and he stooped
down to look for it.
Jaspar watched him in silence, as he felt about the floor.
The overseer was in no haste to find it, though his eyes were
fixed on it all the time.
" Didn't you put it into your pocket, by mistake ?" sug¬
gested Jaspar.
" Certainly not." replied Dalhousie ; " here it is and,
picking up the key, ho handed it to Jaspar. " I was certain
I left it here."
Jaspar felt much relieved.
" Sorry to have troubled you," said he, " but I wanted a
paper —'' and he rose and opened the drawer, as if in quest
of it.
" No trouble at all," returned the overseer. " Now that I
am here, a few words with you would be particularly agree¬
able to me."
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
253
Jaspar's curiosity was instantly excited, and, forgetting
the paper and De Guy, lie requested him to proceed imme¬
diately with his business.
"It is a matter of much interest to both of us," con¬
tinued Da,lhousie, embarrassed by the difficulties of his
position.
" Well, sir, go on," said Jaspar, impatiently, for the over¬
seer's hesitation had rather a bad odor.
" I may as well speak bluntly and to the point," stammered
Dalhousie, still reluctant to state his business.
" Why don't you? I am not a sentimental girl, that you
need make a long preface to your oration."
" I will, sir. Every man is in duty bound to consider his
own interest —"
" Certainly, by all means. Go on."
" In regard to your relations with your niece —" and Dal¬
housie paused again. ,
Jaspar's reddening face and the curl upon his lip indicated
the volcano of passion which would soon burst within him.
" Proceed, sir," said he, struggling to be calm.
" In regard to your relations with your niece, you are
aware that I am somewhat acquainted with them."
" I am ; 1 hope you do not know too much for your own
good. You know I am not to be trifled with."
"Iam not concerned for my own safety," replied Dal¬
housie, a little stung by the implied threat of Jaspar ; "but I
wish to provide for your safety. I intend to go to France."
" I do not prevent you."
" I lack the means."
" And you wish me to furnish them V
" I do."
" And how large a sum do you need?"
" A pretty round sum. I will keep entirely away from this
part of the country, so that you need not fear me."
" Fear you!" sneered Jaspar, rising and draining a glass
of brandy. " I fear no man, no devil, no angel !"
22
254
hatchie: a tale of tiie
" Perhaps you are not aware that your reputation is in my
hands."
" Not at all, sir," said Jaspar, coldly.
" Know, then, that I have a copy of the genuine will, and
the means of attesting it!"
Jaspar was prepared for almost anything, but this was too
much. He paced the room with redoubled energy. His bra¬
vado had vanished, and he was as near pale as his bloated
visage could approach to that hue. He strode up and down
the room in silence, while his heart beat the reveille of fear.
For a time his wonted firmness forsook him, and he felt as
weak as a child, and sunk back into a chair.
By degrees he grew calmer. The case was a desperate
one. Again he swallowed a long draught of brandy, which
seemed to reduce his nerves to a state of subjection. Grad¬
ually he rallied the dissipated powers of his mind, and was
ready to meet the emergency before him.
Dalhousie, after making his appalling announcement, had
thrown himself into a chair, to await the effect of his words.
He seemed in no harry to continue the subject. Thus far
the effect warranted his most sanguine hopes of the realiza¬
tion of his great schemes.
Jaspar, after recovering some portion of his former calm¬
ness, said,
" May I ask how you obtained possession of the docu¬
ment V
" That question, sir, I must decline answering."
" You will, at least, 4fOw me the paper?"
" That also I must decline."
Jaspar bit his lip.
" How shall I know, then, that you are not deceiving
me?"
" I assure you that I have the document, and you must
trust to my honor for the rest."
"Honor!" exclaimed Jaspar, giving way to his passion.
" No one but a scoundrel ever talks of his honor ! By ,
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOTJTH-WEST.
255
I only want to hear that word, to know that the man is a
rascal!"
" Very well, sir, I shall be under the necessity of seeking
out your niece."
"My niece!" roared Jaspar, terror-stricken. "Did you
not see her buried at Yicksburg V'
" It might have been she, but it is scarcely possible."
" Hell!" shouted Jaspar, unable to govern his fury. With
long strides he paced the room, his teeth grating like a
madman's, and his eyes bloodshot and glaring like those of
a demon. His fears seemed to arm him with desperate fury.
" Where is the ring 1 — the ring !" said he, stopping in
front of the overseer. " Did n't you give me her ring ?"
" I gave you a ring," said Dalhousie, calmly.
" Was it not her ring? Did it not have her initial, and
her father's hair in it?" and Jaspar flew to the secretary,
where he had deposited the evidence of his niece's supposed
death.
" There is no longer any need of continuing the decep¬
tion—"
" Deception ! Here is the ring, and here is the letter D.
Doesn't it stand for Dumont ?"
" Not at all. It stands for Delia, my wife's name, in this
instance."
" Your wife's name !" exclaimed Jaspar, striking his fore¬
head furiously.
" It does, sir, and for her mother's name also, whose
memory it was intended to commemorate."
Jaspar's emotions were so violent, that the overseer began
to fear some fatal consequences might ensue.
" Calm yourself, Mr. Dumont. Do not let your passions
overcome you. I have no intention of making an evil use of
this information," said he, in a soothing tone.
This seemed to calm the violence of Jaspar's feelings, and
with a strong effort he recovered his command of himself.
256
hatchie: a tale of the
" My niece is yet alive, is Bhe?" said Jaspar, looking anx¬
iously at the overseer.
" Perhaps not; but probably she is."
" And it was not she that was buried1?"
" As to that, I cannot say ; I never saw the lady alive."
" And what are your plans!" asked Jaspar, with a glance
of doubt at the overseer.
" I will go to France, if you provide the means."
" Suppose I will not?"
" Perhaps your niece will."
" What if she is dead?"
" I can better tell when I know that she is dead."
" How much money do you require?"
" Twenty thousand."
" A large sum."
" From millions your niece would gladly give more."
" I will think of your proposition. Come in again in two
hours, and you shall have my answer."
" Better give me an answer now."
" I wish to consider."
4 You have only to choose between twenty thousand dol¬
lars and the whole fortune. With your means at command,
much reflection is not needed."
" Show me the papers, and I will decide at once."
" No."
" Then I must consider whether your pretensions are well
founded."
" I will not be over nice; but any attempt to play me
false shall rest heavily on your own head.''
" Honor!" said Jaspar, with something like a smile, but
more like a sneer.
With compressed lips, and the scowl of a demon, Jaspar
witnessed the departure of the overseer. His case looked des¬
perate, and he felt something like the gloominess of despair.
Balhousie could be disposed of, but the niece ! —the niece,
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
257
if she yet lived, would be the destruction of all his avaricious
schemes.
As usual when agitated, he paced the' room; and, as he
reflected upon the danger, and the desperate remedies which
suggested themselves, his manner grew more and more demo¬
niacal. He resolved to trust no man. This was a dark
thought, and could proceed only from the darkest mind.
The twenty thousand dollars he could pay; but the man
who had such a hold upon him would never be satisfied while
a dollar remained. And revenge was sweet! No ! Dalhousie
must not be bought off I It was a feast to his mind to antici¬
pate the torture of the overseer !
An exclamation of satisfaction escaped him, as he suddenly
decided upon the means of torture. In imagination he could
see before him the thing, who had dared to threaten him,
lingering out the moments of a hated life in slow agony. The
vision was one of pleasure, and he rubbed his hands with
delight.
The means of accomplishing his dark purpose then came
up for consideration, and in this connection he happened to
think of De Guy. He must be the minister of his vengeance,
and the herald of his future safety; and he summoned him
again to his presence.
22#
HATCHIE : A TALE OP THE
CHAPTER XXVI.
" Thou hast stepped in between me and my hopes,
And ravished from me all my soul held dear." Howe.
De Guy returned to the library at Jaspar's summons. The
shrewd attorney at once perceived the conflict which agitated
the mind' of his patron. He had come to Bellevue with a
purpose, and, as Jaspar's disturbed mind seemed to favor
that purpose, he hailed it as an omen of success. But what
had so agitated him 1 Jaspar was not a man to be depressed
by any trivial circumstance.
The attorney did not have to wait long in suspense, for
Jaspar related the particulars of his interview with Dal-
housie, and mentioned the price he had named to insure his
silence. It was now De Guy's turn to be disturbed. The
purpose for which he had come was likely to be thwarted by
this new aspirant for a share in the Dumont estates.
" What is to be done?" said Jaspar, in a tone which be¬
trayed his deep anxiety.
"Get rid of him! His story is a fabrication," returned
De Guy.
" Not entirely. He knows too much for our safety."
" So much the worse for him!"
" Why ? What would you do?"
" Shut his mouth ! It matters not how. You do not want
to " and the attorney drew his under lip beneath his upper
teeth, and produced an explosive sound, very much like the
crack of a pistol, or a champagne-cork, but which Jaspar did
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
259
not mistake for the latter. " You do not want to —f-h-t —
him, if you can help it."
" It would be the safest way," returned the other, not at
all embarrassed by the attorney's ambiguous method of ex¬
pressing himself. '
" Perhaps not; though 'dead men tell no tales,' it is also
true that' murder will out.' Besides, I have conscientious
scruples."
Jaspar sneered at this last remark ; but the attorney was
too useful an adviser at that moment to be lightly provoked,
and he suppressed the angry exclamation which rose to his
lips.
"How would the slave jail do?" said he, with a fiendish
smile.
"Too public. Our object is to save the man's life, — an
a^t of humanity ; but we must not endanger our own safety."
" No mortal man can ever know that he is confined there.
The jail was built under my own direction, and, owing to
its peculiar construction, not even the hands on the estate will
know that it is occupied. I always keep the keys myself."
" If you are satisfied, it is enough. But how can you get
him in?"
" I can manage that, with your assistance," said Jaspar,
who had already arranged every particular. " But his wife V
" His wife ! Has he a wife V
" Ay ; and one who, if I mistake not, will give us more
trouble than the fellow himself."
" She must be caged with him."
" You say well, Mr. De Guy. But can you reconcile this
advice with your dainty humanity ]" said Jaspar, with a sneer.
" Certainly, I can! It were cruelty to separate man and
wife, even in death. If I had a wife, I should be sorry to
part with her under any circumstances."
Jaspar grinned a sickly smile.
"But the plan!" continued the attorney. "This loving
couple will not willingly occupy your fancy apartment."
260
HATCHIE: A TALE OF THE
" Leave that to me. Go to the jail. Here are the keys.
I will send them to you. When they are in, lock the doors !"
De Guy smiled.
" You do not understand me?"
The attorney confessed that he did not.
" Nevertheless, go to the jail, and wait their coming. Un¬
lock the doors, and get out of sight. They will enter, like
lambs."
Jaspar explained a little further, and the attorney took his
departure to obey his instructions.
At the time appointed, Dalhousie returned to receive Jas-
par's reply.
" You are punctual," said the latter.
"I am," replied Dalhousie, cavalierly. "This business
admits of no delay. Are you prepared to give me an
answer?"
"Yes," returned Jaspar, endeavoring to assume a crest¬
fallen air.
" Well, sir, do you accept my terms?"
" I do, on one condition."
" Name it."
"It is, that you sign this bond never again to land in
America, and to preserve entire silence in regard to the inform¬
ation you have obtained;" and Jaspar read an instrument
he had drawn up, to blind the eyes of the overseer.
" I agree to it."
" It is well. But a further difficulty presents itself. I
have not so much money in the world. The estate, perhaps
you know, consists mostly of real estate, stocks, negroes, &c.
I have not five thousand dollars by me."
The overseer looked at Jaspar with a keen, contemptuous
glance, as if to read any attempt on his part to dupe him ;
but the wily planter moved not a muscle.
" Then you cannot, if you would, consummate the bar¬
gain?" said he.
MISSISSIPPI ANIt THE SOUTH-WEST.
261
" I said not so," returned Jaspar. " I only remarked that
a difficulty had presented itself."
" Pray explain yourself."
" The difficulty can be removed." t
"Well, how ? What new risk must I run?"
"No risk. To tell you all in a few words, I Have the
money in gold buried on the estate."
" That will suit me better. I prefer gold."
"It is buried three feet under ground, in the slave jail.
I selected that place to bury it, because I could dig without
attracting attention."
" It can easily be brought to light. An hour's work with
the spade will unearth it."
" True; but I have not the strength to dig. Besides, I am
engaged with a friend in the next room."
Dalhousie accepted the excuse, for he had seen De Guy, as
he was walking in the garden, half an hour before.
" I can dig it up myself. Show me the spot."
"Very well; but sign the bond first."
" Of course, if you keep not your faith with me, the bond
is nothing," said Dalhousie, as he affixed his signature to
the paper, which Jaspar folded carefully, and put in his
pocket.
" Here are directions which will enable you to find it
without the necessity of my attending you and he handed
him a slip of paper, upon which were written minute direc¬
tions to the supposed locality of the treasure.
" But, suppose," said Dalhousie, after he had read the
directions, " while I am digging, you should close the doors
upon me?"
" Honor!" said Jaspar, laying his hand upon the pla'ce
where the heart belonged, with an amusing contortion of the
facial muscles.
" I have not the highest confidence in your honor."
'' Perhaps not; but I can Higgest a better protection. Have
you any person at hand upon whose faith you can rely?"
262
hatchie: a tale of the
"None but my wife," replied Dalhousie, carelessly, for
the mortifying fact seemed laden with nothing of bitterness.
" So much the better. She will be true. Station her at
the door, and, if she sees me approach, you can be sure to
be on the outside when I close the door."
Jasper's air of sincerity did as much to assure him as the
fitness of the plan suggested, and the overseer determined to
adopt it.
Briefly he narrated to his wife — though with some vari¬
ations and concealments, for he knew she would not endorse
all his operations — the history of the affair, and the good
fortune that awaited him ; and requested her attendance at
the jail, to stand sentry over the gloomy den, while he dug
up the treasure.
De Guy's patience was nearly exhausted when the over¬
seer and his wife made their appearance. He had only time
to conceal himself in a cane-field, when the doomed couple
reached the jail. Dalhousie walked twice round it, before
he ventured to "enter the building. Stationing his wife at the
door, he proceeded to measure out the locality of the supposed
treasure.
De Guy watched them. For half an hour he remained
quiet, when the vigilance of the lady-sentinel began to abate,
and, by the exercise of extreme caution, he succeeded in reach¬
ing, undiscovered, the rear of the jail. Cat-like, he crept
to the corner, and listened. He could hear their conversa¬
tion. Carefully he stole round to the corner nearest to the
door. For an instant the wife had left her station, to observe
the progress of her husband's labor. The time had come,
and the attorney was not the man to let the favorable mo¬
ment pass unimproved. With a rapidity which seemed
utterly incompatible with his rotund corporation, he flew to
the door, and sprung the trap upon the hapless pair, in the
midst of their vision of wealth and happiness.
Carefully locking the doors of^he dungeon, he walked back
to the mansion as coolly as though he had only impounded
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
263
his neighbor's cow. Entering the library, he found Jaspar
impatiently waiting his return.
" Are they safe ?" said he.
"As safe as your jail-walls can make them. Your plan
was a clumsy one, but I forced it to succeed."
"Did they not enter without scruple?"
" Yes, but the sentinel."
' Pshaw ! did you not know she would desert her post ?
If she saw not danger, she would fear none in the day-time,
— it is woman-like."
" Not always ; but it matters not; they are safe. Now to
business."
"Business!" exclaimed Jaspar, with a start, and a wild
stare at th8 attorney. " The business is done."
" Not all of it. There are other enemies in the field."
" What mean you ?" said Jaspar, alarmed. " Are we not
safe yet?"
" Not quite," replied the smooth attorney, with a quiet
smile. "The game you played was a deep one, and you
must needs persevere to the end."
" Explain yourself, man ; don't trifle with me," said Jas¬
par, roused by the smooth smile of the attorney; for that
smile seemed to him full of meaning.
" All in good time, my dear sir. Let me beg of you not to
be discomposed by anything I may say to you."
Jaspar sneered, but ventured no reply. _
" I have served you faithfully, you must acknowledge."
" I will acknowledge nothing," said Jaspar, testily.
" The steamer exploded, you remember," returned De
Guy, with an expression of sly humor, which Jaspar did not
appreciate.
"I do remember it, by Heaven! But this villanous
Dalhousie says my niece was not known to have been killed."
" Exactly so."
" Sir ! Do you mean to say that you know she was not
lost?"
264
HATCHIE : A TALE OP THE
" Precisely so."
" By ! Sir, yon have been making a merit of this
very thing."
" True, but policy, policy ! You will recollect you were
not in a particularly amiable mood when I had the honor to
introduce myself this morning. It was necessary to con¬
ciliate you, and my plan succeeded admirably. Besides, I
blowed up the steamer with the intention of serving you, and
I ought to have the credit of my good intentions t"
" And a pretty mess you have made of it I"
" Did the best that could be done, under the circum¬
stances."
" The game is up ! I may as well hang myself, at once."
" The very worst thing you could possibly do. 'A long life
of happiness and usefulness is yet before you, provided you
follow my advice."
" Your advice !" sneered Jaspar.
1' I shall have the pleasure of convincing you that my
advice will be the best that could possibly be given to a man
in your condition."
" The girl is alive, is she ?" muttered Jaspar, heedless of
the smooth words of his companion.
" Alive and well; and, moreover, is close at hand."
" The devil, she is ! And you have been dallying around
me all day without opening your mouth."
'' But remember, sir, you had another affair on your hands.''
" What avail to get that miserable overseer out of the way,
when the girl herself is at hand V
" One thing at a time. That excellent old man, Dr. Frank¬
lin, always advised this method. The overseer is safe ; now
turn we to other matters."
" Well, what shall be done ?" said Jaspar, rising suddenly
and paying his devoir to the brandy-bottle.
" I will tell you," replied the attorney, rising from his
chair and coolly imitating Jaspar's example at the bottle.
Then throwing himself lazily upon the sofa — "I will tell
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
265
you. The case is not desperate yet. How much is the
amount of the old colonel's property ?"
" How, sir! What mean you ?"
"Favor me with an answer," replied the attorney, with
admirable sang-froid, as he drew from his pocket a cigar-
case, and, taking therefrom a cigar, proceeded to light it
with a patent vesuvian. Politely tendering the case to Jas-
par, who rudely declined the courtesy, he continued, " It
is necessary to our further progress that I have this inform¬
ation."
" Well, perhaps he was worth four or five hundred thou¬
sand. What then ?" replied Jaspar, doggedly.
"No more? Surely, you forget. His city property was
worth more than double that sum."
" No more, by Heavens !" said Jaspar.
•' Then, my dear sir, I fear you are a ruined man."
" Sir !" and Jaspar started bolt upright.
" See if you cannot think of something more," said De
Guy, calmly.
" He might possibly have left more."
" Have n't you the schedule ? Pray allow me to look at
itand the attorney rose and approached the secretary.
With the ease of one perfectly at home, and acquainted with
every locality, he opened, the drawer which contained the
business papers of the estate.
" What are you about, sir ? You are impudent!"
" Not at all, sir. I wish to satisfy myself that the prop¬
erty is worth more," — and he commenced fumbling over the
contents of the drawer.
" Take your hands out of that drawer, or I will blow your
brains out!" said Jaspar, fiercely, as he seized a pistol from
the table.
"Very well," replied the attorney, closing the drawer ;
" you shall have it as you will. I shall bid you a good-
day,"— and he prepared to depart.
"Stay!" said Jaspar, replacing the pistol; "perhaps I
23
266
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
can satisfy you, though I cannot see what bearing it has
upon the subject."
" A very decided bearing, I should say," replied the attor¬
ney, not at all disconcerted by what had happened.
"Perhaps if I had said a million, it.were nearer the
truth." f
" Not a bit. You are still half a million out of the way,
at least. Is it not a million and a half?"
" It may be," said Jaspar, hesitating.
" Perhaps two millions."
" No," said Jaspar, decidedly.
" I suspected two was about the figure, but we will call it
a million and a half."
" Well, what then ?" said Jaspar, impatiently.
" One-half of it would be a very pretty fortune," solilo¬
quized De Guy, loud enough to be heard by his companion.
" No doubt of it," replied Jaspar, with a ghastly smile,
which betrayed but little of the terrible agitation that racked
him, as he heard these words.
" But, Mr. Dumont,.you are not a married man, you know,
and one-third of it would be very handsome for you."
" Very comfortable, indeed ; and, no doubt, I ought to be
very grateful to you for allowing me so much."
'' Exactly so. Gratitude is a sentiment worthy of cherish¬
ing. The fact is, Mr. Dumont, I intend to marry ; and, for a
man of my expensive habits, one-half is hardly an adequate
share. You are a single man, and not likely to change your
condition at present, so that you can have no possible use,
either for yourself or for your heirs, for any more than one-
third."
"Your calculations are excellent!" said Jaspar, with a
withering sneer. " But suppose I should grumble at your
taking the lion's share V'
"0, but, my dear sir, you will not grumble ! Your sense
of justice will enable you to perceive the equity of this
division."
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
267
" Enough of this ! I am in no humor for jesting," said
Jaspar, with a frown.
"Jesting!" exclaimed the attorney, with a well-made
gesture of astonishment; " I was never more in earnest in
my life."
"May I be allowed to inquire the name of your intended
bride ?" sneered Jaspar.
"Avery proper question; and, considering our intimate
friendship, a very natural one. Although my intention is a
profound secret, and one I should not like to have go abroad
at present, especially as her nearest of kin might possibly
object, still I shall venture to inform you, since you are to
have the honor of providing the means of carrying my matri¬
monial designs into effect."
" I am certainly under obligations for your favorable con¬
sideration. But the lady's name V
"Miss Emily Dumont! a beautiful creature — high-spir¬
ited — every way worthy "
"Damnation ! this is too much," growled Jaspar, fiercely,
as he seized the pistol which lay near him, and levelled it
at De Guy. "You cursed villain! You and I must cry
quits !"
"Do not miss your aim!" coolly returned the attorney,
drawing from his pocket a revolver. " Miss not your aim,
or the fortune is all mine."
Jaspar was overcome by the coolness of De Guy, and,
throwing down the pistol, he sank back into his chair, over¬
powered by the violence of his emotions.
"De Guy!" said he; "fiend! devil! you were born to
torment me. There is no hotter hell than thine ! Do thy
work. I must bear all," — and Jaspar felt that he was sold
to the fiend before him.
" My dear sir, do not distress yourself," replied the attor¬
ney, resuming his supercilious manner, which he had laid
aside in the moment of peril. " I offer you the means of
safety. You will escape all the dangers that lower over you
268
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
by my plan, which, I am glad to see, you perfectly under¬
stand."
" And lose the price for which I sold my soul 1 Even
Judas had his forty pieces of silver — the more fool he, to
throw them away! I could not do this thing, if I would.
My soul is bound to my money."
"Pshaw! do not let avarice be your besetting sin. It is
a vice too mean for your noble nature."
Jaspar tried to sneer again, but the muscles refused to per¬
form their office. He stood like a convicted demon before
his sulphurous master.
" It must be done," said De Guy; " there is no other way."
Jaspar heard the words, and struggled to avoid the conclu¬
sion towards which they pointed. The demon bade him
yield, and the command was imperative. He could not
resist — his will was gone.
" What are the details of your plan ?" gasped he, faintly.
" Marry the lady, and take up my abode in this mansion,"
replied the attorney, promptly.
" And turn me out of doors ! "Well, be it so. I must do
as you will."
" Nay, nay, my dear sir; you wrong me. You shall still
be the honored inmate of our dwelling, — the affectionate
uncle of your Emily, as of old," said the attorney, with infi¬
nite good humor.
Jaspar had well-nigh recovered his self-possession under
the stroke of this, to him, severe satire; but De Guy gave
him no time.
"We must proceed in some haste," continued the attor¬
ney, seizing a pen, and writing as he spoke. " My time is
short, and I have already been somewhat lavish of it.
Here, sign this paper ; it is your consent to my union with
your niece. Call some one to witness it."
Jaspar signed the certificate, without reading it. A wit¬
ness was called, and the paper in due form was deposited in
De Guy's pocket.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
269
" Now, sir, the lady is not altogether willing to consent
to this arrangement; but you must persuade her, and, if need
be, compel her, to consent. She will be here in a few
days. After the marriage, it will only remain for me to
make over to you one-third of the property, which, as her
husband, I can then legally do. Be firm, and behave like a
man, and your troubles are ended. Everything will be
hushed up, and you can spend the evening of your days in
peace and quiet. I bid you good-day."
The attorney formally and politely ushered himself out of
the library, and took his departure for New Orleans.
23*
270
HATCIIIE: A TALE OF THE
CHAPTER XXVII.
Jaffier, you 're free; but these must wait for judgment."
Otwat.
We left Dalhousie engaged in the seemingly hopeless task
of undermining the wall of the slave jail, at which he labored
for several hours, resting at intervals, as his exhausted frame
demanded. The prospect of realizing his hope encouraged
him, and lent an artificial strength to his arm. He had
already excavated a pit several feet in depth, but had not
reached the bottom of the foundation wall. The quantity of
earth piled upon the brink of the pit required extra exertion
to remove it, but he toiled on with the energy of despair.
After laboring several hours more, he discovered, to his
great joy, the bottom of the foundation. Again he plied the
spade, and, by almost superhuman exertions, he succeeded in
excavating a hole under the stones, which, below the sur¬
face of the ground, were not laid in mortar. After loosening
all the small stones around a larger one, he found that he
could pry it out, which, with much labor, he accomplished.
The removal of the other stones was comparatively an easy
task, and a little time sufficed to clear a space up to the
solid masonry.
But here a new difficulty presented itself. The hole he
had dug was already half filled with the stones he had tum¬
bled from their positions. His strength was not sufficient to
remove them, and he was compelled to dig again, in order to
prosecute his labors.
The wall removed, he commenced digging outside of the
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
271
foundation wall. Patiently he dug down to obtain sufficient
room for the deposit of earth from the outside. Slowly and
laboriously he undermined the ground, till the surface above
him caved in, and —joy to his panting soul! — the air, the
pure air of heaven, rushed in through the aperture ! Hastily
enlarging the cavity, and removing the earth to the inside,
he ascended to the surface of the ground. A feeling of grati¬
tude thrilled through his frame, as he once more inhaled the
free air of heaven, that he had escaped the terrible fate
which a few hours before had seemed inevitable.
With faltering step, — for now that his Herculean task
was accomplished, the reality of his weakened physical con¬
dition was painfully apparent, — he walked round the jail, to
satisfy himself that no one was in the vicinity. The sun was
set, and the shades of night were gathering upon the earth.
The time was favorable for his escape. Having satisfied
himself that he was unobserved, he hastened to the garden,
which was close at hand, to procure the means of invigorat¬
ing his own body, and restoring to life and animation the
partner of his captivity. Fruit of various kinds — melons,
figs — rewarded his anxious search. Filling his handker¬
chief with cantelopes and figs, he hastened back to the jail,
with all the speed his weary limbs would permit. His
thoughts were fixed upon his wife, whose suffering had
pierced his soul more deeply than all the anxiety and doubt
he had experienced on his own account. As he tottered
along, he asked himself if he should eat of the fruit he car¬
ried ere she had tasted of the banquet. He drew one of the
rosy-cheeked, juicy figs from the handkerchief. It was no
loss of time — no deferring of the succor she needed — to
eat as he walked ; run he could not, though he fain would
have quickened his tardy pace. It would restore his
strength, and enable him the better to protect and rescue
her. It was not wrong, though, from the deep well of his
affection, came up something like a reproach for his selfish¬
ness. He ate the fruit. The effect was, or seemed to be,
272
HATCHIE: A TALE OF THE
magical. He thought he could feel it imparting strength to
his exhausted form. Again he ate, and in the pleasant sen¬
sation to his unsated palate, his imagination, as much as
the fruit, nerved his muscles, and he walked with a firmer
step.
He had not completed one-half the distance back, when he
discovered two men in the vicinity of the jail. A cold shud¬
der nearly paralyzed him. Was his labor all in vain ? Had
he with so much trial and suffering effected his escape, only
to be incarcerated again? The thought was maddening,
and he resolved to die rather than be returned to the dun¬
geon.
Drawing a revolver from his pocket, with which he had
prudently prepared himself before his interview with Jaspar,
he proceeded on his way.
On a nearer approach, the men appeared to be strangers to
him. They might, however, be in the employ of Jaspar.
They might be engaged in watching over his captivity.
He approached nearer. He had never seen either of them
before. They did not look like men whom Jaspar would
have been likely to select for such a purpose as he appre¬
hended. Still, he took the precaution to examine the caps
upon his pistol, and have his bowie-knife in a convenient
place for immediate use.
Dalhousie was the first to speak.
"Your business here?" demanded he, regardless of the
courtesy to which he had been all his life accustomed.
" The fact on't is," replied one of the strangers, a little
startled by the rude manner of Dalhousie, " the fact on't
is, we are lookin' arter the mansion of a Mr. Dumont. Per¬
haps you will oblige us by tellin' us which way to go."
" He lives in yonder house," replied Dalhousie, pointing
it out.
The simplicity of the speaker dissipated his apprehensions,
and his curiosity was excited.
" You know hirfl, do you ?" continued he.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
273
"Well, no — I can't say I do."
" But you have business with him V
" Not particularly with him, — the Lord forbid !" replied
the stranger, devoutly.
" Devil a bit with him, at all," added his companion.
" Since no one else resides under the same roof with him,
may I ask the reason of your visit there, if I am not too
bold V' said Dalhousie.
" Sure, it's only to see the counthry, about here, we 'vo
come," replied the Irish stranger.
" No, Partrick, you know that is not the truth. Never tell
a lie for anything, Partrick. Our business an't with him,
but it consarns him. We don't care about mentioning it to
everybody." ^
" I do not mean to be impertinent," said Dalhousie ; " but
perhaps "I may be able to serve you. The man you seek is a
villain!"
" Good gracious!" exclaimed Uncle Nathan, — for we pre¬
sume it is unnecessary to tell the reader that it was he, — " I
know that."
" Indeed, then you have some knowledge of him V
" Sartain! but do you know a minister in these parts by
the name of Faxon ?"
" I do ; he lives close by."
"Do you belong in this part of this country, Mister?"
asked Uncle Nathan, who seemed to make the question a pre¬
lude to other inquiries.
" I do. But I must leave you now. I am the bearer of
life to one whom I love dearer than myself. I have been
foully wronged by the man you visit."
" Heavens and airth ! you don't say so V exclaimed Uncle
Nathan.
" Doomed to a death by starvation, with my wife, in yonder
jail, by his malice, I have just effected my escape. My wife
is nearly dead, but I hope to restore her with these fruits."
274
hatchie: a tale of the
" Good Heavens ! who would have thought there was such
a monster upon the airth V*
" By the powers !" ejaculated Pat Fegan.
" Can't we help you V asked Uncle Nathan.
" Perhaps you can. I thank you, and, if it is'not too late,
she also will thank you. My strength is nearly gone."
Dalhousie, followed by Uncle Nathan and Pat Fegan, pro¬
ceeded towards the jail, the former relating, as they went, the
terrible incidents of their captivity, and the means by which
he had effected their happy deliverance.
On the night of the explosion of the Chalmetta's boiler,
Uncle Nathan and Pat Fegan had saved their lives by jump¬
ing overboard, and had been picked up by the Flatfoot. The
true-hearted New Englander had made a diligent search for
the parties who had intrusted the will in his keeping, but
without success. He had been enabled to gain no tidings of
any of them, and was now continuing his search to the man¬
sion of the Dumont family.
The party reached the jail, and Dalhousie leaped into the
pit, followed by his companions. The poor wife seemed to
have no realization of the event which had set them free, and
gazed with a wild stare upon her husband and those who
accompanied him.
" We are safe, Delia ! we are safe !" said Dalhousie, as he
proceeded to untie the bundle of fruit.
" Safe ! no, it cannot be — only a dream ! But who are
these persons ?"
" They are friends, Delia — friends who have come to help
me in saving you. Take one of these figs, dear. They will
restore you."
" Figs !" replied Delia, with a vacant look.
" Yes, dearest; taste it," — and he placed the fruit, which
he had divested of its rind, to her lips.
The act seemed to restore her wandering mind to its equi¬
librium, and she painfully lifted herself on the pallet of
straw, and took the fruit in her hand. She gazed upon it
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
275
with a kind of silent rapture, while a faint smile rested upon
her pallid lips.
" We are indeed safe, if you have found food," — and she
tasted the fig.
" Eat it all, dear; here are plenty more, and melons,
too."
" Let me see you eat, Francois ; it will do me more good
than to eat myself. You have labored hard. Can we get
out of this place ? Are not these Mr. Dumont's friends ?
Have they come to fill up the pit you have dug f"
" No, dearest, they are our friends," said Dalhousie, pained
by the wandering, wild state of her mind, and fearful that it
might end in insanity. ""We will leave this place as soon
as you have eaten some of these figs and melons. I am almost
restored by the joy of this moment, dearest; and you must
strive to be "of good cheer."
Dalhousie and his wife ate freely of the fruit, while Uncle
Nathan and Pat gazed in silence upon the scene. But Delia
was not so easily restored. Her mental and physical suffer¬
ings appeared to have given her constitution a shock from
which it would take time to recover.
A conference took place between the parties, to decide upon
the best means of removing the lady, who was utterly incapa¬
ble of moving a step, and scarcely of lifting her form on her
rude couch. Uncle Nathan was not long in devising a
method; and, directing Pat to enlarge the aperture through
which the captives were to escape, he went in search of some
canes, with which to construct a litter. Pat applied himself
vigorously to his task, tumbling over the huge stones like
playthings, and handling the shovel with all that dexterity
for which the Celtic race is so distinguished.
A rude litter was constructed, on which were laid the coats
of the party, so as to render it as comfortable as possible to
the sufferer. Uncle Nathan and Dalhousie, with much ten¬
derness, though not without pain to the invalid, succeeded in
276
hatchie: a tale of the
getting her through the aperture into the open air, where she
was placed upon the litter.
It was decided to carry her to the house of Mr. Faxon, upon
whose active sympathies they relied for shelter and assist¬
ance; and they Went with the more confidence, because Uncle
Nathan had heard from Emily the interest he took in her
affairs. The litter was borne by Uncle Nathan and Pat,
while Dalhousie walked by its side, to cheer the heart of his
wife by promises of future joy, which the uncertain future
might never redeem.
Mr. Faxon received the party with scarcely an inquiry as
to the nature of the misfortune which brought them to his
door. . There was a person in distress, and this was all his
great, sympathetic heart needed to bid him open wide his
doors.
Delia Dalhousie was placed upon a bed, a negro was de¬
spatched for a physician, and every effort used to alleviate
her physical and mental sufferings.
After the wants of the sufferers had been supplied, Mr.
Faxon listened with horror and indignation to the tale of
Dalhousie's confinement, and the causes which led to it; for
the overseer was so candid as to relate all, not even omitting
the bribe he had agreed to take of Jaspar.
" It is thus, Mr. Dalhousie, that our plans are defeated,
when they are unworthy," said he. "Let this be a lesson
to you for the future. Never do or countenance a wrong
action, and, whatever befalls you in this changing world,
you will have an approving conscience to smile upon you,
and lighten the darkest hour of adversity. But your tale
brings me consolation. There is yet hope that Miss Dumont
is alive. The cruel story of her death has darkened the abode
of many a warm heart, even in spite of the reflection that she
was a slave. She was a true woman, and I pray that God
may spare her yet many years to bless the needy and the
unfortunate."
Dalhousie felt the full weight of Mr. Faxon's rebuke, and
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH.-WEST. 277
acknowledged the justice of the punishment he had received.
Uncle Nathan heard -with astonishment the wickedness of
which the uncle of Emily had been guilty, and his simple
New England heart was sorely perplexed by it. He had no
" idea " of such depravity, and he was tempted, even in spite
of the Scripture injunction to the contrary, to "thank God
that he was not like other men."
In the course of the conversation to which the incidents of
the evening had given rise, the honest farmer found an oppor¬
tunity to broach the subject of his mission; and the time was
occupied, until a late hour, in discussing the means of doing
justice to the injured, in restoring to Bellevue its rightful
mistress.
24
278
HATCHIIi: A TALE OF THE
CHAPTER XXV III.
" To do a great right, do a little wrong."
Shakspeare.
Emily Dumont remained a close prisoner in the rear apart¬
ment of Maxwell's office. Dido, the old negress, was her only
attendant during her incarceration ; for, though the room was
supplied with every luxury the most pampered appetite could
desire, her confinement deserved no better name. She recog¬
nized the place, and doubted not she should be again sub¬
jected to the infamous persecution of her old enemy. She
wondered that he had not already presented himself, and
concluded he could not yet have returned from his up-river
journey, or he would have done so. No one visited her but
the negress, whose conversation, in her eagerness to serve the
liberal proprietor of the office, was disgusting to her refined"1
sensibilities. Not even De Guy came, to give her any inti¬
mation of the nature of the fate which awaited her.
Maxwell's mind, she was satisfied, was fixed upon the
possession of her estates. She could not now entertain the
belief which once, in her weak pity, she had' countenanced,
that the attorney could love her. 0, no ! God forbid that
even the human heart can love, and, at the same time, perse¬
cute the object of its affections ! It was her estates ; and she
half resolved to compromise with her tormentor by yielding
him one-half of her property, on the condition of his restoring
the other half, for she doubted not that he was able to do so.
But there was something so debasing to her sentiment of
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
279
truth and justice in the fact of bargaining with so base a
man, that she could not conquer her prejudice, and finally
determined to suffer everything rather than succumb to the
villain.
Hope had not yet abandoned her. She had too much con¬
fidence in the omnipresent justice of an overruling Providence
to doubt that all would yet end well.
Dido was her jailer, and she scarcely left the office, through
which alone egress was had from the apartment of Emily.
There she dozed away the day and night, freely indulging in
the fashionable habit of " imbibing," to chase away the
ennui of the heavy hours. Her liberal perquisites enabled
lier to gratify her appetite without stint or measure, though a
sort of demi-consciousness of her responsibility deterred her
from an entire abandonment to the pleasures of the cup.
The apartment in which Emily was confined was lighted
by windows of stained glass, opening into the main office, so
that there was no immediate connection with the open air.
This fact rendered the room so secure that Dido rested per-
. fectly easy from the fear of interruption, save from the front
of the building.
The colored guardian, having imbibed rather inordinately
one day, was disposed to court the favor of the sleepy god,
and stretched herself at full length upon one of the easy
lounges of the office. Her eyelids opened and closed lan¬
guidly, as though she was about to sink away into dreamy
unconsciousness, when she was startled by a loud knocking
at the door.
" Who's dar?" shouted Dido, springing to her feet; for a
visit to the office, at this season of the year, was of rare occur¬
rence.
« Open the door, Max," responded a voice from the out¬
side.
" Mr. Maxwell not here, sar," said the colored lady, partly
opening the door.
"Not here!" returned the visitor, pushing into the office
280
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
in spite of the negress, who was disposed to prevent his
entrance. " Is n't Max in town?"
" No sar; he went away to de Norf ah out a monf ago.
" Look here, you black imp," said the stranger, in a severe
tone, " do you mean to say that Max is not in town
" I do, for sartin, sar."
" And he has left you to practise law for him in his
absence V' returned the visitor, with a grin.
" No sar, I takes care ob de buildin."
"Fudge! Maxwell always shuts up his room when he
leaves town;" and the stranger walked round the room
towards the private apartment, much to the consternation
of Dido.
" No, Massa, he tell me, monf ago, to keep de room in
order."
"No doubt he did," returned the stranger, placing his
hand on the handle of the door, and attempting to open it,
which, by Dido's precaution, was ineffectual.
" Is there no one in this room V asked the gentleman.
"No sar, de room is locked, and Massa Maxwell hab carry
off de key."
The stranger walked several times round the room, and
thoroughly scrutinized everything; after which, to the entire
satisfaction of the colored lady, he took his departure. Pass¬
ing out of the building, he crossed the street and entered a
coffee-room, at the front window of which he seated himself,
as if with the intention of watching Maxwell's office.
This person was the reader's old acquaintance, Vernon,—
or, more properly, Jerome Vaudelier, whose intervening his¬
tory we are now called upon to relate. It will be remem¬
bered that, at the request of his father, and at the earnest
desire of Henry Carroll, as well as by the promptings of his
own wish to do justice to the heiress, he had gone to Vicks-
burg, for the purpose of keeping an eye on the movements of
Maxwell. On his arrival at the hotel, he found the attorney,
and dined with him ; but after dinner he suddenly and mys-
Mississippi ASrB THH SdTJTH-WEST.
281
teriously disappeared. All Vernon's inquiries were of no
avail. The landlord said he had paid his bill, and that was
the last he had seen of him. Vernon was perplexed, and on
learning that no boat had left since dinner, he Avas at a loss
which way to proceed. Late in the afternoon he obtained,
as he thought, some clue to him; and he departed, without
loss of time, to Jackson, whither the attorney was supposed
to have gone. His search, however, was futile, and he
returned to Vicksburg by the morning train. Much dis¬
heartened, he was compelled to go to Cottage Island with the
intelligence that his efforts had been foiled. On his arrival,
he learned, to his astonishment, that Emily had just gone to
Bellevue in company with De Guy — a person of whom he
had no knowledge.
Though Dr. Vaudelier and Henry Carroll had been satisfied
with the evidences brought by De Guy, Vei'noh was not. He
knew better than they the character of Maxwell, and it was
determined that he should proceed immediately to New
Orleans, to guard against the possibility of any evil to which
Emily might be subjected.
On the morning after De Guy's departure, he proceeded
down the river, and landed in the vicinity of Bellevue, to
which he immediately made his way. Without a direct
application to any one, he learned that Emily had not yet
arrived. He waited in the vicinity another day, but obtained
no tidings of her. His worst fears were now confirmed. De
Guy had deceived them.
This De Guy, then, was an emissary of Maxwell. To his
mind, now animated by a high purpose, the reflection was
annoying. To the fate of Emily his new destiny seemed to
be attached. His greatest error — at least, the one most
troublesome to his awakened conscience — was the act of
oppressing Emily. He felt that the washing of the stains
from his character depended upon securing her rights.
The ci decant desperado, as we have before indicated, was
radically changed at heart, and he now felt more interest in
" 24*
282
&ATCHIE: A TALE OP THE
the welfare of Emily than he had ever before harbored for
any human being.
His position was full of embarrassments. He learned,
while at Bellevue, that Jasparwas not, and had not been,
sick. This information decided his future course. The mis¬
sion of De Guy had only been a decoy, to lure her into the
hands of Maxwell.
Hatchie was with her; but, alas! what could a slave do
against the powerful machinations of such a villain as
Maxwell 1
After obtaining the information which satisfied him of the
imposture, he proceeded to New Orleans. Knowing the
name of the steamer in which De Guy had taken passage
from Vicksburg, he hastened to the levee, to gain what tid¬
ings he might from the officers of the Montezuma. He found
that a lady and gentleman answering to his description had
taken a carriage on the morning of their arrival, and this
was all they knew. In answer to his inquiries for Hatchie,
he learned that a servant had been handed over to the police,
to be imprisoned in the calaboose till called for.
This was scanty information upon which to continue his
search. His first step was to go to the calaboose, where he
managed to obtain an interview with Hatchie. The poor
fellow was in an agony of grief, — not on his own account,
but on that of his mistress, for he well understood the reason
of this imprisonment.
Hatchie, of course, could give him no information of the
whereabouts of Emily, nor offer any suggestion; and Vernon
was compelled to leave the disheartened mulatto, with only
a promise of speedily effecting his deliverance.
Vernon's next step was to ascertain the present abiding
place of Maxwell, if, indeed, he was in the city; and for this
purpose he had gone to his office. The open room did not
verify the statements of the negress. He knew that Maxwell
always closed up his rooms when he left the city, and the
fact of their being open now tended to fix suspicion upon
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
283
him, or rather to confirm the suspicions before entertained. He
had made the visit to the attorney's rooms to gain informa¬
tion ; and, being partly convinced, by the manner of the negress,
that the rear chamber was occupied, he retired to the coffee-
room to digest the knowledge, and, if possible, arrive at some
conclusion through it, as well as at the same time to keep
watch of the movements at the office.
Who was this De Guy, who had been the agent of Max¬
well?— for such he determined to believe him, until con¬
vinced to the contrary. He canvassed their mutual acquaint¬
ances, but could remember no such person. Intimate as he
had been with all the associates of Maxwell, he could not
identify this bold and cunning confederate.
He had not long deliberated, when, to his surprise, —
albeit it was not an event at all remarkable,—Maxwell
entered the coffee-room.
Before Yernon had time to decide whether or not he should
charge the lawyer with the abduction of Emily, that worthy
approached his chair, and, with much cordiality,—more than
he had formerly bestowed upon him, — extended his hand, and1
expressed his happiness at again meeting him in the city.
Undecided as yet how to proceed, Yernon returned his
salutations with an appearance of equal cordiality.
" My dear fellow," said Maxwell, " I am rejoiced to see
you in town again. I was afraid you would quite desert
us."
This language was new aojd strange to Vernon. It sounded
like the days in which he had been respectable — before his
vices had found him out.
" Indeed ! why did you think so1?" replied Yernon.
" Why, Yernon, there was some kind of a ridiculous story
current at Vicksburg, to the effect that you had joined the
church, or something of that sort."
" Ha, ha ! funny!" said Yernon, adopting the free and easy
style, which had formerly distinguished his colloquial efforts.
" Where did you pick up the story ?"
284
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
" 0, it was quite current when I left Vicksburg."
" A good joke, hey V said Vernon, inuaing.
When Maxwell left Yicksburg, it was impossible that any
such story could have been extant. Of his reformation no
one but the people of Cottage Island could have known any¬
thing. It seemed a little mysterious that Maxwell should
know of it; but the fact of De Guy's visit to the house of his
father came to his assistance, and the mystery was solved.
De Guy had communicated this information to Maxwell, and
thus he was enabled to establish conclusively the connection
between them.
Yernon's plan for the future was adopted; and manifesting
no surprise, he denied the fact of his reformation, however
strong the circumstances might be against him. He had
often been implicated in fouler deceptions than this in a worse
cause, and, in spite of his great resolves, he did not hesitate
in this instance.
" Quite a sell, was n't it, this reformation? The old gen¬
tleman has a fine place up there, — money in the bank, —
hey, boy 1 I saw through the whole of it, as soon as I heard
the absurd story," said Maxwell, who, to do him justice, did
not believe the tale. It was too much for his credulity,
that a thing like Vernon could be animated by a good motive,
— could, by any possibility, abandon the error of his ways.
" Just so, Max. The fact is, I found the old fellow had
plenty of money, and no one but me to leave it to; so I
thought it would be a devilish pity to have it all go to found
a hospital, an orthodox college, or some such absurdity, and
I could not resist the temptation to become a little saintly,
just for a few days."
" Bravo, Vernon ! You will yet be a rich man. You
did it well. The old fellow swallowed it all, didn't he V'
" As an alderman does turtle-soup. But, Max, where did
you slip to from Vicksburg ?"
" To tell you the truth, I was a little afraid of your peni¬
tence, and thought it was not safe to be in the same coach
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
285
with you; so I gave you the slip, by going down the river
by land a few miles, and then taking the boat."
" But you did n't know I had reformed then, — ha, ha
ha!"
" Yes. I heard something about it before I left the
island,—I overheard that Jerry Swinger and the mulatto
boy speaking of it. But I own, Vernon, I was too hasty, to
judge you unheard."
" Max, who is this De Guy ]"
" De Guy," said Maxwell, with feigned astonishment;
" don't know him."
"Bah, Max! don't you know that you cannot wool me?
By the way, that was a clumsy trick of yours, sending this
De Guy after the girl. When he had gone, the captain
would have chased him, if I had not come and assured them
that the terrible Maxwell could not possibly be concerned in
the affair."
"Indeed! did you do me this essential service?" said
Maxwell, forgetting that he had denied his connection with De
Guy.
" I did. If you had left the matter with me, I could have
done it better."
" Well, Yernon, I see you are all right yet; but the thing
worked to a charm. De Guy is the cleverest fellow out. The
girl is safe."
"So I suppose," said Vernon, with an assumption of
indifference.
" But all the sport is yet to come."
" Indeed," said Vernon, burning with anxiety, but striving
to maintain his accustomed easy and reckless air.
" Yes, Vernon, all the hard work we did up the river shall
not be in vain. I shall win the prize !" and Maxwell rubbed
his hands at the pleasant anticipation.
" Wish you joy, Max! But you don't mean to marry the
girl?"
" Certainly."
286
hatchie: a tale op the
" What! a quadroon V'
" Pshaw ! that story is all blown, through - Her old uncle,
up the river, got up that abstraction, so as to finger her prop¬
erty," said Maxwell, forgetting, in his candor, the scruples
which his companion had expressed on a former occasion with
relation to persecuting a white woman, — scruples which
Yernon did not seem disposed to press upon the attorney's
memory.
"You helped him through with his scheme?" answered
Yernon, with a bold, careless air.
" 'Pon honor, I had nothing to do with it. Old Jaspar did
it all himself," replied Maxwell, with an oath.
"Looks a little like you, though," said Yernon, with a
nonchalance which provoked Maxwell, whose temper was
not of the mildest tone.
" Nevertheless, it is none of mine, though the plan was a
creditable one. But it has brought old Jaspar into a wasp's
nest."
" How's that!"
" I had my eye on the girl, ever since the colonel died. I
saw through Jaspar's plot, and a little bravado made him tell
me all about it."
" Good!"
" Just so ; and, as they ate old clients of mine, why, I
could not do less than get them out of the scrape, and remove
the stain from the name of the fair heiress."
" How can you do it?"
" That's the point."
" Looks rather complicated."
" Exactly so; but energy and skill will accomplish won¬
ders."
" Very true," replied Vernon, in his usual quiet "manner,
well knowing that Maxwell would take the alarm if he
appeared in the least inquisitive, — so he contented himself
with this simple ejaculation.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
287
" Can I trust you still ?" said Maxwell, in a low tone, and
with an anxious look, after a pause of several minutes.
" I care not whether you trust me ornot," replied Vernon,
with characteristic indifference.
" Are you the man you were two months ago 1 If you are, I
need ask no more questions."
" I am. And now let me tell you, if you have work for
me, the pay must be liberal. I have reformed in one respect,
and that is from low prices to high ones. I have done too
many of your little chores for nothing. Good pay is my
motto now."
" Be it so," replied Maxwell, whose suspicions, as Vernon
had intended, were diverted by this by-talk. " I will pay
you well. If my plan succeeds, three thousand."
" Good ! that sounds liberal. But suppose it fail?"
" It cannot fail."
"What is the plan? You mean to help old Jaspar out
of the scrape, and save the girl too. How can you do it V'
" There is only one way — marry the girl!"
" Just so," replied Vernon, with an indifference it was
hard to assume.
" Here are the whole details of the plan. I have Jaspar's
consent to my marriage with the girl, but I dare not attempt
to consummate the scheme in the city. She is so cursed
obstinate, that it is a hard matter to manage her. I saw Jas¬
par last night, and we concluded to have the ceremony per¬
formed at Bellevue, as soon as possible, or that fiery son of
Mars and your worthy patriarch will be down upon us, and
spoil the whole."
" Never fear them," said Vernon. " You will not proceed
for a week or two?"
" A week or so will make no difference. But I am afraid
it will take more time than that to induce her to consent.
The difficulty which has troubled me more than any other is
to get her to Bellevue. She tells Dido that she will not go
alive. She fears Jaspar more than she does me, and rightly
288
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
suspects that if she yields she will have to encounter both.
She has not seen me since the row at the wood-yard, and I
intend to transact all business with her through De Guy."
" She is a difficult case," suggested VernOn, to fill up a
pause in Maxwell's speech.
" Now, it has occurred to me," continued Maxwell, " that
you could manage her like a young lamb."
"II" exclaimed Vernon.
" Certainly. You stand well with her, do you not V
" Like a saint."
" You can get up a rescue, or something of that sort, yoii
know."
" To be sure," replied Vernon, thoughtfully.
" Pretend that you are going to effect her escape."
" Capital!" said Vernon, suddenly; "I will pretend to
effect her escape. But there is one difficulty —" and he sud¬
denly checked his apparent zeal, and assumed a thoughtful
air.
" A difficulty V
" Ay. I must be at Baton Eouge to-morrow night, or all
my hopes up the river are lost."
" And you will return —"
Vernon reflected, and then replied,
" In four days."
" That will do. Don't let it be more than four days."
"No."
" And, Vernon, you had better write to the military lover
that the lady is doing well — that Jaspar's health is improv¬
ing, &c. They won't hurry down, then."
'• A good thought. I will write to him."
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTII-WEST.
289
CHAPTER XXIX.
" Here is my hand for my true constancy."
" There is a fair behavior in thee, captain ;
I will believe thou hast a mind that suits
"With this thy fair and outward character."
Shakspeare.
" Villain !" muttered Vernon, as Maxwell left the coffee-
room, "your work of iniquity is nearly done. If from the
depths of my seared heart can come up one single good im¬
pulse to guide me, I will bring the guilty and the innocent to
their just desert."
He had told Maxwell that he should go to Baton Rouge,
and prudence required him to go. He had certain intelli¬
gence that a boat would leave in an hour, and he hastily
wrote the letter to Captain Carroll. This letter was not
exactly of the tenor Maxwell had bargained for, inasmuch as
the object of it was to request the immediate presence of his
father and Henry at Bellevue, which promised soon to be
the theatre of war. "With this letter in his pocket, he made
his way to the levee, and departed for Baton Rouge.
It was with some compunction that he took this seemingly
inconsistent step. It was, for the time, turning his back upon
the object to which, he had devoted himself. It was necessary
for him to gain time, even at the sacrifice of Emily's feel¬
ings, for a short season, so that his father and Henry Carroll
might reach Bellevue as soon as Emily. He had written
them all the details of the plan. His own purpose was to
have Emily's strongest friends at hand on her arrival at Belle¬
vue, so as effectually to foil the machinations of Jaspar and
25
290
hatchie: a tale of the
Maxwell. His own visit to Baton Rouge was only a feint
to avoid a meeting with Maxwell in the interim, thus keep¬
ing the appearance in unison with the pretension.
The river had risen some three or four feet, and the large
and rapid steamers had commenced running. The " Raven,"
to the clerk of which he had intrusted the letter for Cottage
Island, was a remarkably fast boat, and he had every reason
to hope that his plan would be successful.
Three days he remained at Baton Rouge, in a state of im¬
patience and inactivity, rendered doubly uncomfortable by
the fear that Maxwell might change his plan in his absence.
A downward steamer was approaching the city, and he
hastened on board. His letter had been faithfully delivered,
for almost the first person he discovered on board the boat
was Henry Carroll, and Dr. Yaudelier was close at hand.
This was excellent, and he congratulated himself on the
bright prospect before him.
It was arranged that the doctor and his late patient should
remain in the vicinity of Bellevue until the following day,
when Vernon would convey Emily to her home. They were
accordingly landed at the Red Church, and Vernon proceeded
to New Orleans.
Maxwell greeted him with a cordiality which showed the
interest he felt in the scheme, the consummation of which
would realize his dreams of luxurious indulgence. They
wended their way, without loss of time, up the street, decid¬
ing that Vernon should at once broach the proposition to
Emily of going up to Bellevue. The attorney,- when they
had arrived within a short distance of the office, directed
Vernon to proceed alone, agreeing to meet him at a coffee-
room in the neighborhood.
On reaching the office, a new difficulty was presented. The
inflexible guardian of Emily refused to allow Vernon to see
her, stoutly persisting that De Guy would not permit it.
Vernon was obliged to resort to Maxwell in this dilemma,
who, affirming that he did not wish Emily to know of his
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUXII-WEST.
291
presence in town, had kept the secret from the negress. So
what could he do? But, bidding Vernon wait, he left the
coffee-room, and soon returned with an order signed by De
Guy, whom, Maxwell affirmed, he had been so fortunate as
to meet at the Exchange.
" But of what use is this paper1? The girl cannot read.
Shall I take the keys from her V asked Yernon.
"The note will be sufficient. Show it to her; she will
pretend to read it, and would, if it were in Hebrew or San¬
scrit," said Maxwell, who then repeated the caution he had
before given, not to betray the fact of his presence ia the
city.
Yernon presented the note to the negress, who, with a
business-like air, opened it; and, though he could perceive
that she held it up-side down, she examined it long and
attentively, sputtering with her thick lips, as though actu¬
ally engaged in the to her impossible operation of read¬
ing it.
" Dis alters de case, Massa. Why you no show dis paper
before said Dido, with an air of huge importance, which
would have done credit to the captain of a country company
of militia.
"Open the door, and don't stop to chatter!" replied
Vernon.
" Yes, Massa, I have read de letter, and now 1 knows dat
Massa Guy wants you to see de leddy. Dat alters de case.
I has nussin furder to say," muttered Dido, as she unlocked
the chamber door.
Emily was seated on a sofa, reading a book she had taken
with her to while away the time on boai'd of the steamer.
" Missus, a gemman, who hab brought a letter from Massa
Guy," said Dido, as she opened the door.
" Bring the letter., then," replied Emily, scarcely raising
her eyes from the book.
" No, Missus, de letter am for me, and I hab read it. It
orders me to 'mit dis gemman."
292
hatchie: a tale of the
" That is sufficient," said Vernon, pushing the attendant
back, and closing the door.
Emily rose ; and great was her surprise at perceiving the
son of her late benefactor. An avalanche of doubt rushed
through her mind, and she could not conjecture the occasion
of this visit. She had left him at his father's house. Ilad
he forsaken his new-born repentance J Was he again the
minister of Maxwell's evil purposes 1 She had been a prey
to the most distressing anticipations, and had now settled
down into the calmness of resignation. Resolved to die
rather than become the bride of Maxwell, she had spent the
hour^ and days of her imprisonment in nerving herself to
meet whatever bitter fate might await her, in maintaining
her purity and her principle.
The appearance of Jerome Vaudelier caused her a thrill of
apprehension, but it was quickly supplanted by a feeling of
interest in the individual himself. Her own gloomy position
seemed divested of its sombreness, as she felt that the peni¬
tence of the erring soul had not been a reality.
" Jerome Vaudelier, are you, too, the minister of a villain's
•wishes'?"
" Nay, Miss Dumont "
" Say that you are .yet true to yourself; that you have not
forgotten those solemn vows you made in the home of your
father ; say that you are not the tool of the vile Maxwell —
say it before you speak your business with me!" .
"MissDumont, I acknowledge that the present appearance
is against me; but I assure you I have come only as the min¬
ister of good to you."
" Bless you for the words I I feared you had again been
tempted."
" So I have, lady, and apparently have yielded; but it was
only to save you. Listen to me, and I will disclose all the
details of the plots which are even now ripening to ensnare
yon," —and Vernon, in a low tone, briefly narrated every-
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
293
thing, and the means which were in operation to secure her
safety.
" You must go to Bellevue to-morrow, there to meet my
father and Captain Carroll," said he.
The color came to her pale cheek, at the mention of her
lover's name. She felt that Vernon meant to be true to her,
and true to himself. And it required no persuasion to induce
her to acquiesce in the arrangements.
" But, Hatchie — must I leave him in prison ? It is not a,
meet reward for his fidelity."
" It cannot be avoided, Miss Dumont. I will see him to¬
day, and when his honest heart knows that you are in safety,
he will be just as happy in a prison as in a palace. He shall
be set at liberty in a few days."
" I hope he may. Does this De Guy accompany you ?"
" No ; but Maxwell says he will reach Bellevue as soon as
we do."
" Why is this 1 Why does not Maxwell present himself,
and urge his infamous proposals?"
" I know not, unless it be that De Guy is the more artful
of the two."
Let us change the scene to the next day, at the abode of
Mr. Faxon.
Dalhousie and his wife, by the kind attentions of their
host, were restored to a comparatively healthy state. The
lady had suffered much in her physical and mental constitu¬
tion, and a shade of deep melancholy rested upon her hand¬
some features. She could not forget the horrors of the dun¬
geon in which she had been eonfined. It seemed a great
epoch in her life; all before it was strange and undefined,
while every trivial incident since was a great paragraph in
her history.
Mr. Faxon was seated in his library, surrounded by. his
guests. The affairs of the Dumont family had again been
discussed, for to them they were full of interest."
25*
294
HATCIIIE: A TALE OP THE
The good minister feelingly expatiated upon the bitterness
of the heiress' lot, brought up as she had been amid all the
refinements of polished society, whose sensibilities were
rendered doubly acute by nature and the circumstances which
environed her, to be thus degraded into the condition of a
base-born, despised being, —to be so suddenly hurled from
honor and opulence, — it was a dreadful blow! So feelingly
did he narrate the particulars, so tenderly did he describe the
loneliness of her position, that his hearers were deeply
affected, and Delia shed a flood of tears.
" I too have been a wanderer, though a voluntary one,
from the home of my father,'' said she. \
" Nay, Delia," said Dalhousie, tenderly ; " do not revert
to your own experience. Remember you are not strong
enough to bear much excitement."
'' I did not intend to speak of my own experience; but the
sufferings of poor Miss Dumont call to my mind the remem¬
brance of similar feelings."
" I presume the company are not desirous of hearing the
story of an elopement," said Dalhousie, with a smile.
" Nor I to relate one. The pure devotion of Miss Dumont
to the memory of her father recalls the affection, the fond
indulgence, of my own father. I have not, as she has,
the consciousness of having never wilfully abused his con¬
fidence."
"If you have erred, madam," said Mr. Faxon, "your
father still lives, does he not ? Perhaps it is not yet too late
to atone for the fault."
" Alas ! I know not whether he is living or not. I wrote
to him several times, but never received an answer."
" "Who was your father, madam?" said Mr. Faxon, with
much sympathy in the tones of his voice.
" I dread even to mention the name I bore in the innocent
days of childhood." •
"Fie, Delia!" said Dalhousie, with a pleasant laugh,
" what have you done to sink yourself so far in your own
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
295
estimation ? You and your father differed as to the propriety
of our marriage ; to you, as a true woman, your course waa
plain. This is the height and depth of your monstrous sin."
The conversation was here interrupted by the announce¬
ment that a gentleman waited to see Mr. Faxon.
The good clergyman had a habit of promptness in answer¬
ing all culls upon him. This custom had been acquired by
the reflection that a poor dying mortal might wait his bless¬
ing, ere he departed on his endless journey; that, some¬
times, a moment's delay could never be atoned for; therefore
he rose on the instant, and hastened to the parlor, where the
visitor waited.
"Ah! is it possible — Captain Carroll!" said he, as he
grasped Henry's hand; " I am glad to see you. But how
pale and thin you look!"
" Good reason for it, my dear sir. I was on board of the
Chalmetta."
"Were you, indeed ! Thank God, you escaped with life !
Were you much injured V
" I was, but, thanks to the care of a good physician, I am
nearly restored again."
" But our poor lady — Miss Dumont — have you any tid-,
ings of her 1 Report said she was lost in the catastrophe."
" She is safe, though, unfortunately, at present in bad
hands;" and Henry related to the astonished minister the
events of Emily's history since her departure from Bellevue,
not concealing even the details of his present relations with
her.
" And now, my dear sir," said he, rising to depart, " the
crisis has come. Dr. Yaudelier waits close by, and we are
ready to witness the denouement of this climax of plots. It
is already time for Jerome and Emily to arrive, and we desire
your immediate presence at the mansion-house.
" I will attend you. But I have in the house several
friends of Miss Dumont —"
" Bring them all with you," interrupted Henry, looking
296
hatchie: a tale op the
at his watch. " The more witnesses the better, especially if
they be friends."
" But wait till I tell you who they are."
" Excuse me, Mr. Faxon, I must not tarry longer. I will
meet them at the mansion."
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
297
CHAPTER XXX.
" What devil's here, dragging the dead to life,
To overthrow me 1"
" Who art thou 1
Speak ! speak ! "
" The features all are changed,
But the voice grows familiar on my ears."
Lovell.
Jaspar Dumont was seated in the library. The ravages
of care and vice were growing more plainly visible on his
face. His countenance was haggard, and his complexion
seemed to be a struggle between the wanness of care and the
redness of intemperance.
Near him sat De Guy, who had but just arrived.
" The lady has come," said the attorney, adjusting his
green spectacles ; " and I am here to claim the fulfilment of
our contract."
Jaspar looked up from the floor, upon which his eyes had
been fastened, and gazed with a fixed stare upon his com¬
panion.
" You do not understand me," insinuated De Guy.
" I do," said Jaspar, sternly ; " I do ; you have come to
plunder me."
" You do me injustice, my kind friend; I come to save you
from the doom of a felon."
'' To put your foot upon my neck, and leap out of the pit
your villany has dug !"
" Very well, my dear sir, if you are of this mind, my
298
hat'chie: a tale op tiie
course is plain. Did you. not agree to this arrangement ?"
said De Guy, with a smile, which was meant to soften the
hard question.
" True, I did," replied Jaspar, with a whining sullenness.
" What would you have of me now?"
" Only that you fulfil the stipulations of the bargain."
" Can I fulfil them? Can I marry you, even if the girl
were willing?"
" You can give your commands. Will she not obey
them ?"
" Fool if she does !" muttered Jaspar, in a low tone.
" She will be so glad to be restored to her home, I fancy
she will not think the terms are hard,"
"I don't know," said Jaspar, eying the attorney from
head to foot. " I consent to the marriage. I can do no
more."
" Perhaps you will be willing to use a little gentle force,
to save your own neck," said the attorney, with something
like a sneer.
" Anything, anything, that will silence your damning
tongue, and rid me of your teasing!"
" Now, sir, you are reasonable."
" Summon the girl," said Jaspar, impatiently. " I will
say all I have to say in a few words. But, if she foils you, it
is not my fault."
" True sir; but Miss Dumont, at this critical juncture of
her affairs, will have respect for your counsels and the
attorney withdrew to call her.
Emily entered the abode of her early years, and the mem¬
ories of the past came crowding thick upon her. She seemed
to realize that her sorrows were near an end, but the hope
which such a pleasant thought inspired could not entirely
overcome the gloom which the scene around her was calculated
to produce. It was here she had often rambled with her
father, and a thousand trivial incidents presented themselves
to remind her of him.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
299
As she entered the house, she clung to the arm of Vernon,
as though she was entering the abode of evil spirits ; for,
with all the memories of the past, she could not forget that
the home of her childhood was inhabited by her inhuman
uncle.
She had been but a short time seated in the old, familiar
drawing-room, like a stranger now, when De Guy entered, to
request her presence in the library. She rose, and looked at
Vernon, who, understanding the glance, approached, as if to
bear her company.
" This gentleman had better remain here," suggested De
Guy.
" I prefer that he should attend me," said Emily, firmly,
even while her heart rose to her throat, at the thought of
meeting her uncle.
" But really, madam, his presence would embarrass the
business of the interview."
" He is a friend," stammered Emily, " and is acquainted
with all the circumstances of this affair."
" I will attend her, sir," said Vernon, who had before
remained silent.
" Pardon me," said the attorney, looking sharply at Ver¬
non, " but it will be impossible to transact any business in
presence of others."
" Lead on," said Vernon, sternly; " I will attend the lady,
in spite of all objections."
" Sir, you are insolent!" said the attorney, tartly, though
without the loss of his self-possession.
" The gentleman will not in the least retard the business.
Pray pass on," interposed Emily, fearful of a collision be¬
tween the parties.
" It is impossible, madam. I must insist that he remain
here. Such is Mr. Dumont's express order."
" Will you say to Mr. Dumont that the lady demands my
attendance ? Perhaps he will yield the point," answered
Vernon.
300
BATCiiie: a tale of the
" I will see him, but it is useless. I know his views
and De Guy left the room.
" Do not hesitate to go with him, Miss Dumont; £ will be
vclose at hand; but no violence will be offered you. I see my
father and Captain Carroll coming up the road," said'Vernon,
looking out the window. " Yield, if necessary, and fear
nothing."
'' Mr. Dumont persists in his purpose of meeting the lady
alone," said De Guy, as he reentered the drawing-room.
"The lady, in your absence, has concluded to dispense
with my attendance," replied Vernon.
" This way, madam," — and the attorney, with punctilious
politeness, led the way.
Vernon threw himself upon a sofa, as they were leaving;
but no sooner had the door closed, than he rose in haste, and
left the apartment. Reaching the veranda of the house, he
met Dr. Vaudelier and Henry Carroll, who followed him back
to the drawing-room.
"This way, silently, if you please," said he, and then
closed the door. A moment sufficed to inform the new com¬
ers of the position of affairs ; then Vernon left the room, and
went to the library door, which he found, by Henry's direc¬
tion. Stationing himself in a recess behind some coats, he
waited till his presence should be needed.
The meeting between Emily and her uncle was not embar¬
rassed by any formal greetings. Jaspar did not even raise
his eyes from the floor, as she entered. He heard the door
close, and being aware by the silence of the parties — for De
Guy had judged an announcement unnecessary — that they
were ready to hear him, he said, in a gentle tone,
" Emily, I have sent for you to receive a proposition, which
will finally terminate the unfortunate circumstances that have
shrouded our family in hostility and misery."
" Indeed, uncle, I have no feeling of hostility towards you.
God forbid!" replied Emily, upon whose agitated senses
Jaspar's mild words had fallen like promises of peace.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
301
Jaspar was astonished. He had lost much of the severity
of his disposition in the miseries which had overtaken him.
He was humiliated, his spirit broken, and he could not
understand why his victim did not upbraid him, as he ex¬
pected, for the wrongs he had inflicted. A momentary hope
of reconciliation on better terms crossed his mind; but there
stood the attorney, who would permit no other compromise.
" I restore your fortune," said Jaspar, with a shudder, as
he raised his head for the first time from the floor to look
upon his niece, — " I restore it, on one condition.''
" Name not the fortune, uncle ; your peace and happiness
are far dearer to me than all the wealth of the world. You
have wronged me, but I freely forgive you ; and Heaven will
also forgive you, if you sin no more. 0, uncle, I beseech you
dismiss this evil man, and let ine be to you as a daughter!"
" Let us attend to business, if you please, Mr. Dumont,"
said the attorney, in a whining tone; for, it must be con¬
fessed, the conversation had assumed a different turn from
what he had anticipated.
"I must state the business for which I requested your
presence," said Jaspar, not a little moved by the words of
Emily. Human nature is a strange compound of inconsist¬
encies. This man, whose life had been stained with crime,
.was now disposed to regard the past with contrition. We
have seen him scorning even an allusion to the higher life of
the soul. — but success was then within the reach of his crime-
stained hand! Now, failure on every hand awaited him, and
all those bravadoes with which he had kept down his better
nature deserted him. Not . one scornful thought came to
banish the good angel from his presence. But the feeling
was of short duration. It was but a momentary contrition,
which a selfish hope or a burst of passion could dissipate.
" I will restore your fortune, on one condition," said he.
" You can accept or reject it, at your option."
" I beg your pardon," suggested the attorney, " these were
not exactly the terms of our contract."
26
302
hatchie: a tale of the
Name the condition,uncle," added Emily, indifferently;
for she was anxious to have the business, whatever it might
be, finished, so that she could again plead with Jaspar for
his personal reformation, for she was a little encouraged by
the appearance of humiliation he had manifested.
"I restore your fortune, on condition that you give your
hand to this gentleman in marriage;" — and Jaspar again
fixed his eyes on the floor, as if he dreaded the outbreak of
a storm.
" This gentleman!" exclaimed Emily, indignantly. " This
gentleman!" —and she gazed upon him with a proud look
of contempt, from which the attorney would fain have hid
his head. Her surprise was equal to her indignation. Ver¬
non had told her that Maxwell was to be the suppliant for her
hand, and she could not see why his menial had the presump¬
tion to claim her.
" This gentleman!" repeated Emily. " I had rather die a
thousand deaths!''
" Then, madam, we shall be obliged to compel you to this
step," replied De Guy, stung by the scorn of Emily, and
distrusting the energy of Jaspar.
" Sir, your impertinence deserves a severer rebuke than I
can administer!" said Emily, the blood mounting to her face.
" But it must be. even so, madam," returned the attorney
coolly. " Fate has so decreed. Your good uncle's circum¬
stances imperatively demand it."
"Is this so, uncle?"
" It is, Emily. You must submit to your fate, unpleasant
though it may be," ^aid Jaspar, looking at her with an
absent stare.
"No, uncle, it shall not be so. I never will submit to
such a fate. What circumstances do you refer to ?"
" I am in this man's power."
" God be with you, then! But I understand it all. He
seeks my fortune, not myself. I would rather he had the
MISSISSIPPI AND TIIE SOUTH-WEST.
308
whole of it, than become such a thing as to marry that
man!"
" Nay, lady, you are of more worth to me than your for¬
tune, large as it is. I have contracted with your uncle for
your hand, and he must pay the price," said De Guy.
" He speaks truly, Emily. I have sold you to him," replied
Jaspar, vacantly.
Emily was stung to the quick. This remark, she supposed,
was in allusion to her alleged condition ; and the tears rose
to her eyes, while the indignant blood mounted to her cheek.
"Uncle, do not brand your soul with infamy!" she said,
quickly.
" What!" exclaimed Jaspar, roused to a burst of passion.
"Be not a villain!" returned Emi|.y, whose good-nature
was sorely tried.
" Girl, beard not the lion in his den! I had half relented,
but now I feel strong again!" and he rose and tottered to
the table, on which his brandy-bottle stood. After taking a
deep draught, he reseated himself. .
" You must marry this man!" said he, fiercely striking the
table with his fist.
" I never will!" replied Emily, trembling at Jaspar's vio¬
lence, but firm in her purpose.
" Remember! girl, remember what you are!"' said Jaspar,
passionately.
" Enough of this," said Emily. " I leave you for —"
" Stay, lady! You must not leave the room," interrupted
De Guy, laying his hand upon her arm.
" Remove your hand, villain, nor dare to pollute me with
your touch!" exclaimed Emily, shaking off his hand as
though it had been contamination.
The hitherto placid features of the attorney darkened into
a scowl of malignity, as he said,
<< Madam, we have been too long subject to your caprice.
Here let it end. Know that mighty interests depend upon
804
IIATCHIE : A TALE OP THE
the union this day to be consummated, and we refuse longer
to submit to your whims."
" Yes, Emily, the honor and safety of your family name
depend upon your acquiescence in this plan," said Jaspar,
whose passion had moderated a little.
" I will never countenance any of your unhallowed plots,"
replied Emily, and she again moved towards the door.
" You leave not the room till you consent to this union,"
interposed De Guy.
" Stand from my path, or I "will summon assistance !"
" Your summons would be in vain."
With a proud step and a curling lip, Emily attempted to
advance ; but De Guy seized her by the arm, and restrained
her. She struggled to.free herself from the villain's grasp,
without success. Knowing that Yernon was within hearing
of her, she called " Jerome," at the top of her voice.
" No use, madam. The gentleman whose name you utter
is a friend of mine," said the attorney. " He conveyed you
here as an emissary of mine. Have n't you known him
before?" said De Guy, with a mixture of sarcasm and tri¬
umph in the tones of his squeaky voice.
The door-handle was at this moment seized on the outside.
The door was wrenched and pushed, but it did not yield, for
De Guy had taken the precaution to lock it.
"Who is there?" shouted the attorney, alarmed at the
intrusion.
"Open," said Jerome, " or I force the door !"
" What does this mean?" asked Jaspar, who had remained
a quiet spectator to the violence offered his niece.
" I will soon ascertain," said De Guy, dragging Emily after
him, towards a large closet on the other side of the room.
" Help! help !" again screamed Emily ; and, ere she had
the second time uttered the word, a crash was heard, the
library-door splintered, and Yernon stood in the room.
" How is this ? Villain! traitor!" shouted De Guy, draw¬
ing from his pocket a revolver.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE SOUTH-WEST.
305
" Unhand the lady !" said Yernon, in a severe tone, as, at
the same time, he drew from his pocket a pistol. " Unhand
her!" and he approached the lawyer.
" Back, traitor, or you die!" said De Guy, in a voice
which suddenly lost its silky tone, and was firm and round.
"Then I die like a man!" responded .Yernon, still ad¬
vancing,
Jaspar's ferocious nature, stimulated to activity by the
prospect of a fight, now promised to revive his spirits and
nerve his arm. He advanced behind Yernon, and, ere he was
aware, had clasped both hands around him. Vernon tried to
free himself from the bearish hug, and they both fell to the
floor. Jaspar still held tight, and the struggle promised to
be a severe one.
De Guy perceived the movement of Jaspar, and, as soon
as the combatants had fallen to the floor, he restored the
pistol to his pocket, so that, unembarrassed, he might con¬
vey Emily to a place of security, until this unlooked-for con¬
test was ended. Scarcely was the pistol in his pocket, when
the window behind him flew open, and the attorney was in the
iron gripe of a powerful arm ! Emily, freed from her assail¬
ant, retreated to th.e other side of the room, where, glancing
in terror upon the new assault, she saw De Guy thrown vio¬
lently upon the floor by her ever-present and ever-faithful
slave, Hatchie !
The mulatto, having been allowed the liberty of the yard
early in the evening before, had contrived to effect his escape
from the calaboose, and had walked the whole distance from
New Orleans.
Henry Carroll and Dr. Vaudelier had heard the confusion,
and judged that the conflict had begun with something more
than the war of words. Hatchie had scarcely done his work
when Henry reached the library, and rescued Vernon from
the hands of Jaspar.
The contest was ended, and the victors and vanquished
stood contemplating each other in mute astonishment. Dr.
26*
306
HATCHIE : A TALE OF THE
Vaudelier, who had followed Henry into the room, assisted
Jaspar to rise, and conducted him to a chair. The courage
of the vanquished seemed entirely to have oozed out, and they
remained doggedly considering the new state of things.
Hatchie bent over his fallen foe, and, drawing from his
pocket the revolver and bowie-knife which rendered him a
formidable person, he loosed his firm hold of him, as if it
was an acknowledgment of weakness to hold him longer a
close prisoner. Seizing the prostrate lawyer by the hair, he
bade him rise, at the same time giving a sharp twist to
the ornamental appendage of his cranium. But the hair
yielded to the motion of his hand, and the entire scalp scaled
off, bringing with it the huge parti-colored whiskers, and
revealing a beautiful head of black, curly hair, where the
mixed color had before predominated !
" What does this mean ? Methinks I have seen that head
of hair before," said Henry Carroll.
" The face is not of the natural color," added Dr. Vaude¬
lier, remarking that the skin of the forehead, which the wig
had concealed, was very white, and almost transparent, while
the face was besmeared with the color that composed the
florid complexion of the attorney.
"Take off his spectacles, Hatchie," said Henry.'
The glasses were removed, and a pair of piercing black
eyes glared upon them.
"It is Maxwell, by shouted Jaspar, who had in
some measure recovered from the exhaustion of his struggle
with Yernon, and had watched with much anxiety the
" unearthing" of his confederate.
"It is Maxwell," responded Hatchie, tearing open the
vest which encircled the attorney's portly form, and display¬
ing the cushion that had been used to extend his corporation.
"Merciful Heaven! how narrowly have I escaped!" ex¬
claimed Emily, laying her head in giddy faintness upon the
shoulder of Henry, who, at the moment he was at liberty,
had flown to her side.
MISSISSIPPI AND THE rfOUTH-WEST.
.307
At this moment Mr. Faxon entered, and saw, with aston¬
ishment, the evidence of the recent fray.
" Justice is triumphant, I see," said he, taking Emily by
the hand, and affectionately congratulating her upon her
return to Bellevue.
" Heaven has been more indulgent to me than I deserve,—
has preserved me from a thousand perils I knew not of; and
has, at last, placed me again in this haven of repose !" re¬
plied Emily.
" Bless His holy name, my child ; for, though we forget
Him, He can never forget us !" said the minister, devoutly.
" Well, gentlemen," interrupted Jaspar, with a bitter
scowl, " I trust, when'you have finished your cant, you will
depart, and leave me in peace."
" "We will, at this lady's pleasure," said Dr. Yaudelier.
" Hell! would you trifle with me ?" roared Jaspar, rising
in a passion. " Would you turn me out of my house V
" Never yours, Mr. Dumont! Heaven has restored the
innocent and oppressed to her rights," answered Mr. Faxon,
calmly.
" Uncle," said Emily, earnestly, " let me entreat you to
lay aside the terrible aspect you have worn, and be again even
as you once were. The past shall be forgotten, and I will
strive to make the future happy."
Jaspar gazed at her with a vacant stare, and, muttering
some unintelligible words, sunk back into his chair, and
buried his face beneath his hands. The consciousness of the
utter failure of the plan he had cherished for years, and the
terrible obloquy to which his crime subjected him, rushed
like an earthquake into his mind. He was completely sub¬
dued in spirit, and groaned in his anguish.
" The way of the transgressor is hard," remarked Mr.
Faxon, in pitying tones.
These words were heard by Jaspar. They touched his
pride. He could not endure the notes of pity. He raised his
head, and his eyes glared with the fury of a demon.
308.
IIATCIIIE : A TALE OF THE
" Leave the house, sir !" gasped he, choking with passion.
" Leave my house, or I will tear you limb from limb! I can
do it, and I dare do it!" and he started suddenly to the
floor, " Yes, I dare do it, if you mock me with your canting
words!''
His eyes rolled like a maniac's, and he gasped for breath,
as he continued,
" I am a murderer already ! — a double murderer ! Dal-
housie and his wife have felt my vengeance. They have
starved like dogs ! Their prison is their tomb !"
• " Compose yourself, Mr. Dumont," said Mr. Faxon;
" your soul is still free from the heavy burden of such a
guilt. Dalhousie and his wife live."
"You lie, canting hypocrite! No mortal arm can save
them. They have been eight days in my slave jail. Here
are the keys," gasped Jaspar, drawing them from his pocket.
" You shall see ; I will call them," said Mr. Faxon.
Dalhousie and his wife, followed by Uncle Nathan and
Pat Fegan, entered the room.
Jaspar fixed his glaring eyes upon those whom he supposed
were rotting within the precincts of his Inquisition. His
power of speech seemed to have deserted him, and he shook
all over like an aspen-leaf.
To Jaspar alone on the estate was the secret of Dalhousie's
imprisonment known. He had not approached the jail, and
if any other person was aware-that it had been undermined,
they had not communicated the fact to him.
As the last party entered, Dr. Vaudelier turned to look
upon the new comers. Starting suddenly from his chair, he
approached them, and gazed with earnestness into the face
of Delia.
" Is it possible !" said he.
"My God,—my father!" and father and daughter were
locked in each other's embrace.
Maxwell, stripped of his disguise, and ruined in his own
opinion, and in opinion of everybody else, had watched
309
all the proceedings we have narrated in silence. Ashamed
of the awkward appearance he made in his undress, and con¬
fused by the sudden change in his aflairs, he was at a loss to
know which way to turn.
Henry Carroll realized the sense of embarrassment that
pervaded all parties, and was desirous of putting an end
to the state of things which promised nothing but strife and
confusion. So he directed Hatchie to fasten Maxwell's hands
together, and keep him secure. This step the attorney
seemed not inclined to permit, and a struggle ensued.
" Mr. Dumont," said he, " is this by your order
" No," replied Jaspar, anxious to secure at least one
friend. " No ! I am still in my own house, and the law
will protect me."
" Certainly," returned Maxwell; " this is all a farce.
There is not a single particle of evidence to disprove the
will."
" Well, now, I reckon there is a leetle grain," said Uncle
Nathan, stepping forward and producing the will, which had
been intrusted to him on board the Chalmetta. " This will
set matters about right, I rayther guess."
" What mean you, fellow V said Jaspar. " What is it V
"The genuine will," replied Hatchie, still holding Max¬
well. " I gave it into his hands. To explain how I came by
it, I need only call your attention to a certain night, when I
surprised you and this honorable gentleman in this very
apartment."
" It is all over !" groaned Jaspar.
" This is a forgery !" exclaimed Maxwell.
" Ay, a forgery !" repeated Jaspar, catching the attorney's
idea. " Who can prove that this is a correct will, and the
other false V
" I can," said Dalhousie. " Here is a duplicate copy,
with letters explaining the reason for making it, in the tes¬
tator's own hand-writing."
Dalhousie candidly stated the means by which he had
310
HATCRIE: A TALE OF THE
obtained possession of the papers, and trusted his indiscretion
would be overlooked. Dr. Yaudelier frowned, as his son-in-
law related the unworthy part he had performed, and per¬
haps felt a consciousness of the good intentions which had
years before induced him to refuse his consent to the mar¬
riage of his daughter.
Jaspar yielded the point; but Maxwell, in the hope of
gaining time, boldly proclaimed all the papers forgeries.
" It matters not; we will not stop to discuss the matter
now. Tie his hands, Hatchie," said Henry Carroll, and,
with the assistance of others, he was bound, and handed over
to a constable, upon the warrant of Mr. Faxon, who was a
justice.
The party separated, — Henry and Emily seeking the grove
in front of the house, to congratulate each other on the
happy termination of their season of difficulty. The meeting
between Dr. Yaudelier and his son and daughter was ex¬
tremely interesting, and the hours passed rapidly away, in
listening to the experience of each other. The meeting con¬
cluded with the making of new resolves, on the part of Dal-
housie, to seek " the great purpose of his life" by higher and
nobler means.
As the dinner-hour approached, the happy parties were
summoned by Mr. Faxon to visit his house, and partake of
his hospitality. The good man was never happier in his life
than when he said grace over the noon-day meal, surrounded
by the restored heiress of Bellevue, and her happy friends.
mississippi and the south-west.
311
CONCLUSION .
" From that day forth, in peace and joyous bliss,
They lived together long, without debate ;
Nor private jars nor spite of enemies
Could shake the safe assurance of their states."
Spenser.
Our story is told. It only remains to condense the subse¬
quent lives of our characters into a few lines
Jaspar Dumont lingered along a few weeks after the return
of Emily ; but his life had lost its vitality. Continued devo¬
tion to the demon of the bottle laid him low, — he was found
dead in the library, having been stricken with an apoplectic
fit.
After the death of Jaspar, Maxwell was tried for a
variety of crimes, and sentenced to the penitentiary for ten
years.
Dr. Vaudelier, accompanied by Dalhousie and his wife,
removed to New Orleans, where they spent many happy
years, devoted to' those pure principles of truth and justice
which the events of our history contributed not a little to
create and strengthen.
Vernon,—or, as he has changed his character, we may
venture to change his name, — Jerome Yaudelier, went to
California in the first of the excitement; where, amid the
temptations of that new and dissolute land, he yet main¬
tains the integrity he vowed to cherish on the night of the
attack upon Cottage Island.
312
hatchie: a tale of the
Uncle Nathan and Pat Fegan spent a few days at Bellevue,
and then started for the North. The honest yeoman, either
on account of the many adventures they had passed through
together, or because Pat was a true convert of his, had taken
quite a fancy to the Hibernian, and insisted that he should
accompany him home. Pat became a very worthy man, after
abandoning the " critter," which had been his greatest bane.
For three years he served our New Englander faithfully on
the farm, at the end of which period his desire to get ahead
prompted him to take a buxom Irish girl to his bosom, and
go to farming on his own hook. A visit of Henry and Emily,
about this time, to the worthy farmer, contributed to forward
this end ; for Pat, with Celtic candor and boldness, stated -to
them his views and purposes. Before the heiress left, Pat's
farm was bought and paid for, besides being well stocked, by
her princely liberality.
Jerry Swinger and his wife, who had rendered such import¬
ant services to Emily, were not forgotten. The honest wood¬
man disdained to receive compensation for any service he or
his good wife had rendered ; but Emily found a way to rendei
them comfortable for life, without any sacrifice of pride 01
their part.
One year after the events which close our history the great
mansion at Bellevue was the scene of gay festivities. Dr.
Yaudelier and his daughter, and Dalhousie, and Jerry Swin¬
ger and all his family, were there, because, in the hour of its
Owner's greatest happiness, she could not be without those
who had been her friends in the season of adversity. All the
country round was there, — New Orleans was there, — every¬
body was there, to witness the nuptials of the fair heiress
and the gallant Captain Carroll.
The great drawing-room was brilliantly illuminated. The
happy couple entered the room, and stood up before Mr.
Faxon. A step behind Emily, watching the proceedings
with as much interest as a fond father would witness the
espousal of a beloved daughter, stood Hatchie. Race anil
MISSISSIPPI AND TIIE SOUTH-WEST. 313
condition did not exclude him from the proud and brilliant
assemblage that had gathered to honor the nuptials of his
mistress.
They were married, and, ere the good minister had con¬
cluded his congratulations, the huge yellow palm of the
faithful slave was extended to receive the white-gloved hand
of the bride. Nor did she shrink from him. With a sweet
smile, and a look which told how deep were her respect and
admiration, she gave him her hand, heedless of the proud
circle which had gathered around her to be first in their offer¬
ing of good wishes.
"God bless you, Miss Emily! Bless you!" said he,
and the tear stole into his eye, as he withdrew from the crowd.
27
END.