Part 10 (2/2)
His brilliant black eyes lighted up his whole countenance. His hair, which was nearly straight, hung in curls upon his lofty brow. George Combe or Fowler would have selected his head for a model. He was brave and daring, strong in person, fiery in spirit, yet kind and true in his affections, earnest in his doctrines. Clotelle had been at the parson's but a few weeks when it was observed that a mutual feeling had grown up between her and Jerome. As time rolled on, they became more and more attached to each other. After satisfying herself that these two really loved, Georgiana advised their marriage. But Jerome contemplated his escape at some future day, and therefore feared that if married it might militate against it. He hoped, also, to be able to get Clotelle away too, and it was this hope that kept him from trying to escape by himself. Dante did not more love his Beatrice, Swift his Stella, Waller his Saccharissa, Goldsmith his Jessamy bride, or Burns his Mary, than did Jerome his Clotelle. Unknown to her father, Miss Wilson could permit these two slaves to enjoy more privileges than any of the other servants. The young mistress taught Clotelle, and the latter imparted her instructions to her lover, until both could read so as to be well understood. Jerome felt his superiority, and always declared that no master should ever flog him. Aware of his high spirit and determination, Clotelle was in constant fear lest some difficulty might arise between her lover and his master.
One day Mr. Wilson, being somewhat out of temper and irritated at what he was pleased to call Jerome's insolence, ordered him to follow him to the barn to be flogged. The young slave obeyed his master, but those who saw him at the moment felt that he would not submit to be whipped.
”No, sir,” replied Jerome, as his master told him to take off his coat: ”I will serve you, Master Wilson, I will labor for you day and night, if you demand it, but I will not be whipped.”
This was too much for a white man to stand from a negro, and the preacher seized his slave by the throat, intending to choke him. But for once he found his match. Jerome knocked him down, and then escaped through the back-yard to the street, and from thence to the woods.
Recovering somewhat from the effect of his fall, the parson regained his feet and started in pursuit of the fugitive. Finding, however, that the slave was beyond his reach, he at once resolved to put the dogs on his track. Tabor, the negro-catcher, was sent for, and in less than an hour, eight or ten men, including the parson, were in the woods with hounds, trying the trails. These dogs will attack a negro at their master's bidding; and cling to him as the bull-dog will cling to a beast. Many are the speculations as to whether the negro will be secured alive or dead, when these dogs once get on his track. Whenever there is to be a negro hunt, there is no lack of partic.i.p.ants. Many go to enjoy the fun which it is said they derive from these scenes.
The company had been in the woods but a short time ere they go on the track of two fugitives, once of whom was Jerome. The slaves immediately bent their steps toward the swamp, with the hope that the dogs, when put upon their scent would be unable to follow them through the water.
The slaves then took a straight course for the Baton Rouge and Bayou Sara road, about four miles distant. Nearer and nearer the whimpering pack pressed; their delusion begins to dispel. All at once the truth flashes upon the minds of the fugitives like a glare of light,--'tis Tabor with his dogs!
The scent becomes warmer and warmer, and what was at first an irregular cry now deepens into one ceaseless roar, as the relentless pack presses on after its human prey.
They at last reach the river, and in the negroes plunge, followed by the catch-dog. Jerome is caught and is once more in the hands of his master, while the other poor fellow finds a watery grave. They return, and the preacher sends his slave to jail.
CHAPTER XIX. THE TRUE HEROINE
IN vain did Georgiana try to console Clotelle, when the latter heard, through one of the other slaves, that Mr. Wilson had started with the dogs in pursuit of Jerome. The poor girl well knew that he would be caught, and that severe punishment, if not death, would be the result of his capture. It was therefore with a heart filled with the deepest grief that the slave-girl heard the footsteps of her master on his return from the chase. The dogged and stern manner of the preacher forbade even his daughter inquiring as to the success of his pursuit. Georgiana secretly hoped that the fugitive had not bee caught; she wished it for the sake of the slave, and more especially for her maid-servant, whom she regarded more as a companion than a menial. But the news of the capture of Jerome soon spread through the parson's household, and found its way to the ears of the weeping and heart-stricken Clotelle.
The reverend gentleman had not been home more than an hour ere some of his paris.h.i.+oners called to know if they should not take the negro from the prison and execute _Lynch law_ upon him.
”No negro should be permitted to live after striking a white man; let us take him and hang him at once,” remarked an elderly-looking man, whose gray hairs thinly covered the crown of his head.
”I think the deacon is right,” said another of the company; ”if our slaves are allowed to set the will of their masters at defiance, there will be no getting along with them,--an insurrection will be the next thing we hear of.”
”No, no,” said the preacher; ”I am willing to let the law take its course, as it provides for the punishment of a slave with death if he strikes his master. We had better let the court decide the question.
Moreover, as a Christian and G.o.d-fearing people, we ought to submit to the dictates of justice. Should we take this man's life by force, an Allwise Providence would hold us responsible for the act.”
The company then quietly withdrew, showing that the preacher had some influence with his people.
”This,” said Mr. Wilson, when left alone with his daughter,--”this, my dear Georgiana, is the result of your kindness to the negroes. You have spoiled every one about the house. I can't whip one of them, without being in danger of having my life taken.”
”I am sure, papa,” replied the young lady,--”I am sure I never did any thing intentionally to induce any of the servants to disobey your orders.”
”No, my dear,” said Mr. Wilson, ”but you are too kind to them. Now, there is Clotelle,--that girl is completely spoiled. She walks about the house with as dignified an air as if she was mistress of the premises.
By and by you will be sorry for this foolishness of yours.”
”But,” answered Georgiana, ”Clotelle has a superior mind, and G.o.d intended her to hold a higher position in life than that of a servant.”
”Yes, my dear, and it was your letting her know that she was intended for a better station in society that is spoiling her. Always keep a negro in ignorance of what you conceive to be his abilities,” returned the parson.
It was late on the Sat.u.r.day afternoon, following the capture of Jerome that, while Mr. Wilson was seated in his study preparing his sermon for the next day, Georgiana entered the room and asked in an excited tone if it were true that Jerome was to hanged on the following Thursday.
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