Part 26 (1/2)
”Whose name is dat, sar?' the coroner asked pointing to the letters J.
W. S. chiseled into the iron handle.
”Haint dat Semo's name?” he again asked.
”It ar” answered a juror.
”Constable,” the coroner stormed with wrath, ”Yer fech dat white man fo me, ded er live, und summuns de possy common ta ters to go wid yer sar.
Und bredden,” he continued, ”we'll pa.s.s de jimmyjon und tak a swipe while wee's erwaiting fur de prisner.”
Clarissa looked out of the kitchen window and descried the negro constable and his posse advancing rapidly toward the mansion. With her hands just out of the kneaded flour she ran frantically to her young mistriss with the exclamation,
”Lord have mercy, Miss Alice, yander c.u.ms ole Shermans army; de plantashun is black und blu wid n.i.g.g.e.rs wid der muskits,” ”Oh, my Lord have mussy on us.”
Alice though greatly alarmed, replied as calmly as possible,
”Dont you know Clarissa, we have never harmed these people. Do you think they will kill us in cold blood. Where is father? Come father, come Clarissa, we will go into the verandah and meet them, kindly face to face. Come, father, I know you are brave--and you are a Christian. If they have come to murder us--there is but a pang and all will be over.
In a moment we shall forget our griefs, our humiliations. Let us clasp hands and die altogether.”
The negro constable observing the distress of the family and wis.h.i.+ng for the time being to avoid excitement, halted his gang at the gate and advanced to the old man with his warrant.
”Mr. Semo,” said he, ”Yer is scused of ferociously homisiden de corpses in de crick und I'm sent to fetch yer to de crowner.”
”All right I will accompany you,” the old man said with resignation.
Poor Alice clung to her father's neck crying as if her heart would break, and spoke pleadingly to the negro.
”May I not go with my father? May I not die with him? Oh, my dear, dear father. I cannot bear the separation, the suspense. Please, please Mr.
Constable let my father remain here and let me suffer and die for him.”
”Oh my daughter, my child,” petulantly cried the old man, ”this will not do.” ”Dry your tears my dear child and be a.s.sured that the coroner cannot do me harm. If he shall find me guilty, I shall remain in jail only to-morrow. The court convenes on Monday next when I shall be discharged and return home. Give me a kiss now, and remember dear, that your father is safe: Good-bye, G.o.d bless you.”
As Joshua, a juror, saw the feeble old man with great effort advancing with the negro posse, he began to shed tears and covered his furrowed face with his old beaver:
”Po Mars Jon,” he sobbed audibly, ”Has it c.u.m to dis, scusing the bestest man in de kentry wid foroshus h.o.m.osiden. Ma.r.s.er, yu shall hab jestice. I'll stan twix yer und def. Yu know'd nuffin about dis ma.s.sacre, jess ez innerson ob dis scusation ez a baby--ebery bit und grane.”
”Constable,” asked the coroner, ”fetch me dat crowbar und de prisner.”
”Now den, dis heer crowbar is a witnis agin yer, Mr. Semo, what has yer got to say agin dis scusation sar?”
The Colonel replied with dignity, ”I have not seen it before in twelve months, I am sure.”
”How c.u.m dis heer crowbar under de bridge, how c.u.m de bridge fell down und how c.u.m dem fokses drounded, answer me dat?” sharply answered the coroner.
”I cannot tell sir, I know nothing whatever about the matter, and----”
”Boss Crowner,” interrupted Joshua, ”does yer sposing dat ar crowbar was de cashun ob dat dar drounen? Answer me dat fust. I aint agwine ter sot on no man dat aint gilty. Diss heer bisniss is ticklish bisniss, I tell yer dat rite now, und we is all sworn ter find out whedder dat crowbar kilt dose fokses ur whedder dey kilt deyselves. Now yer look er heer, when dis heer gang c.u.m down dat rode a rasin und a hollering lak wild panters, dey want a noticing nuffin und dat ole bridge hez been shackly und cranksided for a mont, und der horses c.u.mmin a prancing und er gallupin wid all dem flags a flying mout er knowed sumfin was agwine to gib way, und ef I wotes ter hang eny body it is agwine to be de oberseer ob de rode, taint agwine to be ole ma.r.s.er. Ef I wotes, I says ef I wotes, I am agwine ter clar ole ma.r.s.er ob dis heer terble scusashun und I am reddy ter wote rite now. I got a plenty ob munny und a plenty ob good wittles, too, und I haint agwine to grunt und root roun de kommissery lak a horg nudder, wid de ole flag a twisted ober de back lak de tail ob a chiken rooster. Ma.r.s.er Jon shall hab jestis ef I hab to go outen dese Nunited States fur it. Mout as well be sarchin fur fleas on a catfish ez fer jestis in dis kote. I move dis honerble kote to turn ole ma.r.s.er Jon loose, und I call for de wote rite now.”
This speech of the old negro seemed, as it were, the gift of an oracle.