University of Virginia Library

23. CHAPTER XXIII.
OVERWHELMED WITH SUCCESS.

Probably the jailer had mentioned already to the
attorney that beside Van Hausen there were a couple
of women interested in the prisoner's confession, and
anxious to be present at the examination, for he did not
seem to be in the least surprised or disturbed at their
presence, but proceeded at once to business.

“Well, jailer,” said he, — his keen eye, which had
shot rapidly round the room, fixed professionally on Bly,
who was its sole object and mark, — “how's my man
this morning? Ready and hearty I hope, for we've no
time to lose now, you know.”

Neither the look nor the question, though both were
sharp, and equally aimed at Bly, served to rouse him in
the least. The jailer stepped forward, as he said, “to
stir him up a little.” The lawyer dragged a chair near
to the settle, sat down, took his green bag from the
clerk's hand, and depositing it between his feet, searched
among his red-taped documents for the necessary memoranda.

“What d' yer want? Let me 'lone?” was Bly's gruff
though feeble remonstrance to the jailer's peremptory
shake of his shoulder.

“Come, sit up man! you're able! Here's his honor,
the attorney, waiting to hear what you've got to say. So
be spry, now.”

A sluggish jerk and a partial unclosing of the eyes
were all the reply elicited by this second effort.

The jailer growled, muttered an oath, and tried force,
but obstinacy made Nick a dead weight.

Here the lawyer, who, having found his papers in the
case of Government vs. Bullet and others, was ready to
proceed to action, interfered with, “Stand back, jailer!
let him alone, as he says. Bly and I understand each
other,” — and on the strength of this mutual understanding,
the man of law, who prided himself on knowing
how to manage a witness, drew his chair up to the settle
as confidently as a family physician approaches his
patient.

“It rests on you and me pretty much to get these rascals
hung, Bly. You're ready to do your part, — I see
that in your eye.”

If ever there was an eye that was a hopeless negation
to the lawyer's assertion it was Bly's at that minute. It
looked nothing but dogged indifference and scorn.

“I mean to do my best,” continued the wily lawyer,
“but after all, you'll be the great man of the day, Bly;
and a great day it will be if it sees those sea-sharks convicted.
Now, Bly, let me know exactly what I may
expect from you?”

“Expect from me!” cried the prisoner, raising himself
on his elbow with the same suddenness and velocity
which had startled Angie, and which, together with the
roar of his sepulchral voice, caused the lawyer to reel
back in his chair. “Nothing, not a d—d word. I've
made up my mind not to blab,” — and with a terrible
oath he shook his skeleton fist in the face of his interrogator,
consigned himself to everlasting perdition if he broke
one iota of this, his final vow, and then, suffering his form
to collapse, fell back into the same rigid posture which
he had previously maintained.

The attorney, dismayed and chagrined at this unexpected
action on the part of one of his most important
witnesses, tried to turn it off as a jest. “Pho! pho!
nonsense, man!” he exclaimed, feigning an assurance
which he was far from believing. “You won't desert us
so at the last minute, I know. Why, I'm depending on
you to identify these rascals, describe their vessel, and
testify to the black work that proved what colored flag
she sailed under. That story of the Salem brig will be
our great card in this part of the evidence. That 'll tell
immensely with the crowd and the jury. Give me a little
idea now of what I may depend on you to testify,” — and
he glanced at his memoranda, — “eh? come!” encouragingly;
then, in a tone of irritation, “speak, man!
What's the matter? Don't you hear me?”

The lawyer, a keen observer and physiognomist,
was beginning to realize the futility of his words. Bly
evidently turned a deaf ear to his question. It was

doubtful if he had listened to a syllable of this latter exhortation.
His bleared and glazed eyes were fastened
obstinately on the plastered wall opposite; his thin lips
were strained together; his fists clinched, not in passion,
— every trace of that had vanished, giving place to a rigidity
of muscle, nerve, and will; a species of moral as well
as physical catalepsy, against which there was no appeal.

The lawyer was in a quandary. “Look here, my
friend,”— with a sarcastic emphasis on the word friend,—
“what does this mean?” was the threatening inquiry
with which he turned upon the jailer. “The case for
the government is quashed, for aught I know, if this man
can't be persuaded to testify. He was ready enough with
his evidence a week ago. I've put off preparing him to
appear in court until the last minute, by your advice, and
now — well, if he can't be made to speak, those rascals
may get clear yet.”

The jailer, himself greatly disconcerted, now stepped
forward to the lawyer's assistance (for he had withdrawn,
as became him, in favor of the learned counsel, and had
stood leaning against the high desk). The two held a
conference, sotto voce, the only distinguishable phrases
of which were, “Too far gone? Been so before?
What do you make of it?” — and the replies, “Can't
say, sir; don't think so;” and, in a more emphatic tone,
“obstinacy, sir; obstinacy. I'll stake my life on't; just
like the rogue.”

Doubtless the attorney adopted the jailer's version of
the case, for he returned to the charge with fresh energy.

The jailer stood by, and now and then added to the persuasive
efforts of his superior, remonstrances more in his
own line. But arguments, promises, and threats on the
one part, pushes, nudges, and shoves on the other, effected
nothing, absolutely nothing. The subject of them
was fixed as a corpse; for any hope of their moving him,
body or soul, from his resolution, he might as well have
been dead. At last, they turned from him in despair and
disgust, as they would have turned from carrion.

Then the lawyer was angry. He jerked back his
chair, scraping it hard across the sanded floor, and knitting
his brows, muttered something about treachery, and
a suspicion that his witness had been tampered with.

But he did not suspect any body there present. No, indeed;
why should he? Were they not all either servants
of the law, or parties eagerly interested in this man's
confession! As he looked at his watch to count his
wasted time, and folded up the memoranda of important
items suddenly struck from his mass of evidence, he
set his teeth and shook his head at some imaginary individual,
— the opposite counsel perhaps, — and seemed to
hint that at his earliest leisure this matter should be
sifted and the treason brought to light.

Meanwhile she, the guilty one, the pale-faced thing, a
mere speaking-trumpet to the old woman, a creature above
suspicion, or beneath it rather, what of her? Leagued as
she was with treachery, darkness, and guilt, why did not
the very prison walls fall upon and crush her? She, herself,
wondered why. Her own success overawed and

terrified her. So stupendous was it as to partake of the
nature of a failure. Evidently this poor wreck of humanity,
with whom she had been tampering, had lost his
power to discriminate. Despair and ignorance rush into
extremes. For him it must be either the sunlight of a
clean breast or utter darkness and oblivion of the past, and
unconsciously she had pledged him to the latter alternative.

She had striven merely to save a dead man's reputation,
and had thereby defeated the ends of justice, set
herself in opposition to government and the law, protected
a nest of villains, allied herself to robbery, piracy,
and every form of vice. Was it her wickedness or her
fate that forever condemned her to be thus allied? Both
she believed, and believing, shuddered.

Benumbed and bewildered by what she had done, petrified
like one in a nightmare of dread, she could not
have moved or spoken if she would; it is doubtful
whether she would have if she could, for her sense of
triumph was greater after all than her terror; she had
courted silence and secrecy as God's best gifts for years;
they were hers to excess now, but they were hers; how
could she sacrifice them? However, you and I need not
discuss the merits of the case, for she did not. She had
little responsibility in the matter. She had a vague sense
of having, by mistake, sold herself to the prince of
darkness; but if so, the crisis was past; he held her
fast, body and soul, for that moment at least, and the
next the opportunity was gone. Before she could shake
off the spell that bound her, the lawyer and his clerk had

hurried away, the constable had laid down the handcuffs
(it was not just here or now that he had occasion for
their use), and was concerting with the jailer as to the
disposition to be made of Bly. Van Hausen, in a gritty,
dogged humor, was moving towards the door, and with
his whip-handle was gesticulating to the women to follow
him. Angie neither noticed nor obeyed, but her abstraction
was covered by the more marked obduracy of Hannah,
who, puzzled and indignant at a series of proceedings
which she had not been able in the least to comprehend,
positively refused to budge, jerking herself free from
Van Hausen, who, finding his gestures unavailing, had
proceeded to give a more emphatic hint by twitching at
her cloak, and avowing her intention of remaining until
they were ready to take the evidence, if it were until
to-morrow morning.

“But there ain't no evidence to take, I tell yer,
woman,” bellowed Van Hausen. “He won't testify —
so there 's an end on't.”

“He! who?”

Dick pointed significantly at Bly, who was now passively
submitting to be led off.

“What! that varmint,” exclaimed Hannah, in a high,
cracked key, rendered more than ever shrill by her rising
rage. “Now, don't tell me we've come all this
way to see what we could rake out o' that heap o' rubbish?”

Dick intimated by a nod that such was the fact, at the
same time urging her towards the door, partly by force,

partly by assailing her ear with, “Come along; don't
yer see we're in the way? — they don't want to be
bothered with us.”

Dick was essentially a modest man, fearful above all
things of being an intruder; and it was easy to see now
that Bly was quietly submitting to the process of removal
to his cell, that the jailer only awaited the departure
of Van Hausen and his companions to shut up
the private room and be off too. He was already locking
up his desk and quenching the embers on the hearth
with the water that remained in the dipper.

Hannah, as sharp-sighted as she was deaf, finally took
these hints at a dismissal, and hobbled towards the door,
muttering audibly, “I do vum! if men ain't fools —
the idee of expectin' to get any thing reasonable out
o' them leavins' of a man. Why, he's all but dead,
and as crazy as a coot inter the bargain. The idee
on't! Why, yer must be about as cracked in yer wits
as he is, all on yer!”

Angie followed mechanically. They went out by the
door at which they had entered. At the same instant Bly,
supported by Tracy and the constable, was carried off
in the opposite direction. Angie had a consciousness
amounting to certainty, — that consciousness which comes
by faith not by sight, — that Bly was looking back in
the hope to win a glance, a grateful glance, perhaps,
from her. But she dared not meet his eye. She felt that
she should betray herself. So, with a fixed gaze and
a self-reproachful heart for this too, she turned her back

upon the poor wretch, who, faithful but unthanked even
by a look, was carried to his cell, while she, free and
uncondemned, but scarcely less a culprit in her own
estimation, went her way unchallenged.

Whither? Ah! that was the question. Van Hausen,
disappointed of the object for which they had come, and
with two women on his hands, was sadly at a loss. He
could dispose of himself and his own time in a dozen
ways until his horse was sufficiently refreshed for the
return drive to Stein's Plains. But the women folks!
what should he do with them?

This problem was rendered more difficult of solution
from Hannah's vituperative state of mind, and the vacant,
terrified expression of Angie's face. Dick had
ordinarily more confidence in Angie's ability and discretion
than his manner to her implied; but now, as he
said to himself, she looked and behaved like a cat in
a strange garret, and she and the old woman seemed
equally unfitted to take care of themselves or each
other.

Hannah, who had stopped short in the stone corridor
between the rows of cells, was still shaking her head and
her forefinger in attestation of her plainly-expressed opinion
regarding the folly of all who had lured her hither
“on such a fool's arrant;” Van Hausen, considerably in
advance, and impatiently lingering until she and Angie
should come up, was apparently taking counsel of his
whip-handle, the end of which he rubbed slowly up and
down his chin, when the constable, returning from doing

escort duty to Bly, came back through the jailer's room,
and overtook our party in the long passage-way. He had
resumed his string of handcuffs, and walked briskly, humming
a tune and keeping time with his uncouth cymbals.
Altogether his presence imparted life and spirit to the
grim old prison corridor; and there was something very
cordial as well as patronizing in the way with which
he broke off in his tune to say to Angie, as he passed,
“Sorry for the old woman's disappintment, miss, an'
yourn; that 'ere testimony turned out a plaguy sham —
that's a fact. Now we're goin' to work in earnest,”
he continued, as, passing the women, he came up with
Van Hausen, and dangled the handcuffs with professional
pride. “Them bracelets are the thing for dandy
customers, such as I've got to deal with now.” “Bran
new they are, the beauties!” and the constable selected
one for inspection. “They're a pretty set o' hands that
these were made for! — a desp'rate gang, sir, now I
tell yer.”

Dick condescended to bestow a superficial examination
on the irons, but they did not interest him particularly;
they were not in the old carpenter's line of business.
“Hard set, I s'pose,” he muttered, not meaning the
irons, but their destined wearers.

“I should think they was,” responded the constable.
“They ought to swing now, if there's justice in the
land. Bad business that 'ere testimony's fizzlin' out so
just as the trial's coming on. The attorney's considerably
used up, most as much as your old woman

there. And well he may be. The country has its eye
on him, sir. He's bound to get them fellers hung, and
he knows it.”

“Pirates, eh?”

“Yes! real black murderin' set! Pests o' commerce!
dread of every blue-jacket that has shipped for the Indies
this five year! Been waiting trial six weeks and more!
Coming on 't half past ten o'clock — extra session — supreme
court — sits in the United States court-room, New
City Hall. You'll be there, sir, of course.”

The constable rattled off these items exultantly.

Van Hausen hesitated, and scratched his head with the
whip-handle by way of clearing up his ideas. The tone,
even more than the words of the constable, was suggestive
of the fact that this great trial, on which the eyes of
the whole country were fixed, was the only thing in New
York worth attending, for that day, at least. But then
the women, — and Dick gave an uneasy glance in their
direction. What to do with them? that was the question
uppermost in the mind of the old bachelor, who, to-day,
almost for the first time in his life, was saddled with
female incumbrances.

But it was no longer an open question. The constable's
voice had a clear ring to it, and had gone echoing
down the corridor. The words “desperate gang,” —
“court — trial,” — and that one syllable which signified
the extreme penalty of the law, had reached and charmed
the ear of Hannab. They chimed in with the prevalent
notion of her mind, especially at this moment, and

acted on her like an inspiration. It was with an
Amazonian stride, in place of her hobbling gait, that
she now advanced down the corridor. “The court's
assemblin', is it?” she asked with eagerness of the constable;
“then it's time I was there.” “Go on man,”
to Dick; “we 're comin'!”

In vain Dick protested, both by word and sign. In
vain he pulled at her cloak, — this time to hold her
back, — and cursed the whole female sex under his
breath. Even the constable, pitying her error, took
pains to inform her, with a shout, that this case had
nothing to do with her affair; that it could throw no
light on her husband's murder; that it related to crime
committed at sea, &c. But Hannah was deaf now,
incorrigibly deaf. She had her own ideas, her own
vague instincts in the matter, and she was resolute. To
court she would go. Had she not come to the city for
that very purpose? What matter whose case it was?
Was there not testimony to be given in, and bad deeds
to be brought to light, and wicked men to be judged!
Who knew what might come of it?

That Hannah really expected or hoped that any thing
would come of it was scarcely probable, for she was
too keen in her faculties, despite her deafness and her
years, to be easily self-deceived. But at all events the
prospect of witnessing a trial, — somebody's trial, — was
irresistible. It was the sifting out of crime; the condemning
of the guilty; — it had a fascination for Hannah,
and she was resolved to spend her day in a manner, at
least, akin to the original intention.

Such was the greatness and fixedness of this resolve
as to reduce her companions to mere ciphers. The
constable was immeasurably tickled at the force of the
old woman's will, now that it was fairly roused. He
laughed heartily, exclaiming between whiles, “Come
on, then! Sorry I can't go and escort you, — there 's
nothin' I should be prouder on, but I've got a part to
perform in the `play,”' — and he shook his handcuffs
significantly. “Howsomever, I'll look out for you in
the court-room,” he condescendingly whispered to Angie.
“Which way?” (in reply to an imperative query from
Hannah). “O, you 'll find it easy enough; you 've
only to follow the crowd.”

They had threaded the passage-way and staircase,
and reached the prison door, as he said this.

A few individuals, hastening along the street outside,
constituted that portion of the crowd which he motioned
to Hannah to follow; and pressing as his business was,
he could not resist pausing an instant to indulge one
more hearty laugh at sight of the old woman striding
vigorously forward, in the effort to keep up with her
leaders, and dragging the trembling, reluctant Angie
along, rather than leaning on her for support.

As for Van Hausen, victim of his sister's valiant
assertion of woman's rights, there was nothing left for
him but to enlist meekly under her colors, and to follow
her lead, as she followed that of the crowd.