 | CHAPTER X. The wigwam and the cabin |  |
10. CHAPTER X.
Mingo Gillison almost stumbled over his young master that
morning, as he was returning home from his visit so full of
strange and unwonted incidents. The latter was about to visit
the camp of the squatters in compliance with his promise to that
effect, when diverted from his intention by the intelligence which
the negro gave him, that the Indians were gone from home.
Somehow, it seemed to Mingo Gillison, that it was no part of his
present policy that his master should see the intruders. A consciousness
of guilt—a conviction that he had not been the faithful
custodian of the interests given to his charge, and that, in some
respects, they had suffered detriment at his hands, made him
jealously apprehensive that the mere visit of his owner to the
Red Gulley, would bring his defection to light.
“But where's your coat, Mingo?” was the natural question
of Colonel Gillison, the moment after meeting him. Mingo was
as ready as any other lover at a lie, and taking for granted that
Jove would laugh at this, quite as generously as at a more dangerous
perjury, he told a long cock-and-a-bull story about his
having had it torn to such a degree in hunting cattle the evening
before, as to put it beyond the power of recovery by the seamstress.
“A handsome coat, too, Mingo: I must give you another.”
Mingo was gratified and expressed his acknowledgments quite
as warmly as it was in his power to do under the feeling of shame
and undesert which at that moment oppressed him. His master
did not fail to see that something had occurred to lessen the assurance
of his driver, and diminish the emphasis and abridge the
eloquence of his usual speech, but being of an inert disposition of
mind, he was not curious enough to seek the solution of a circumstance
which, though strange, was unimportant. They separated
after a few inquiries on the part of the latter, touching
various plantation topics, to all of which the answers of Mingo
make them satisfactory. The master returned to the residence,
while Mingo went off to the negro quarter to meditate how to
circumvent Richard Knuckles, and win the smiles of his handsome
but haughty wife.
It was probably two hours after the supper things had been removed,
that the youthful proprietor of the estate of which Mingo
held the highly important office in the duties of which we have
seen him busy, was startled by the easy opening of the door of
the apartment in which he sat, groping through the newspapers
of the day, and, immediately after, by the soft treat of a female
footstep, heedfully set down upon the floor. He turned at the unusual
interruption, for it may as well be stated passingly, that
young Gillison had set out in life with notions of such inveterate
bachelorship that his domestic establishment was not suffered to
be invaded by any of the opposite sex in any capacity. It is not
improbable, that, later in life, his rigour in this respect, may have
undergone some little relaxation, but as we are concerned with
present events only, it will be no object with us either to speculate
upon or to inquire into the future. Sufficient for the day is
the evil thereof. Enough for us that his present regulations were
such as we have here declared them, and had been laid down with
so much emphasis in his household, on coming to his estate, that
he turned upon the servant,—for such he assumed the intruder
to be—with the determination to pour forth no stinted measure of
anger upon the rash person who had shown herself so heedless of
his commands.
The reader will be pleased to express no surprise, when we tell
him that the nocturnal visitant of our young bachelor was no other
than the Indian woman, Caloya. She had threaded her way, after
nightfall, through all the mazes of the plantation, and, undiscovered
and unnoticed, even by the watch dog who lay beneath the porch,
had penetrated into the mansion and into the presence of its master.
She had probably never been in the same neighbourhood
before, but with that sagacity,—we might almost deem it an instinct—which
distinguishes the North American Indian, probably,
beyond all other people,—she had contrived to elude every habitation
which lay between the “Red Gulley” and the dwelling-house—to
keep herself concealed from all observation, until that moment
when she pleased to discover herself. The surprise of Gillison
was natural enough. He rose, however, as soon as he was conscious
that the intruder was stranger, and perceiving her to be
an Indian, he readily concluded that she must be one of the squatters
at the “Red Gulley,” of whom the eloquent Mingo had given
him such emphatic warning. With that due regard for the sex
which always distinguishes the true gentleman, even when the
particular object which calls for it may be debased and inferior,
Gillison motioned her to a chair, and, with a countenance expressing
no other feelings than those of kindness and consideration, inquired
into her wants and wishes. His language, to one of a tribe
whom it is customary to regard as thieves and beggars, would
have proved him to be something less hostile to the sex, than his
household regulations would altogether seem to indicate.
Caloya advanced with firmness, and even dignity, into the apartment.
Her deportment was equally respectful and unconstrained.
Her face was full of sadness, however, and when she spoke, it
might have been observed that her tones were rather more tremulous
than usual. She declined the proffered seat, and proceeded
to her business with the straightforward simplicity of one having
a single purpose. She began by unfolding a small bundle which
she carried beneath her arm, and in which, when unrolled and
laid upon the table, Col. Gillison fancied he discovered a strong
family likeness to that hunting shirt of his driver, of the fate of
which he had received such melancholy intelligence a few hours
before. But for the particularity of Mingo, in describing the
rents and rips, the slits and slashes of his favourite garment, the
youthful proprietor would have rashly jumped to the conclusion
that this had been the same. His large confidence in the veracity
of Mingo, left him rather unprepared for the narrative which
followed. In this narrative, Caloya did not exhibit the greatest
degree of tenderness towards the amorous driver. She freely
and fully declared all the particulars of his forced intimacy with
herself and husband from the beginning; and though, with instinctive
feminine delicacy, she suppressed every decided overture
which the impudent Mingo had made to herself par amours, still
game which his driver, had been playing. Nor, in this narrative,
did the woman omit to inform him of the hams and eggs, the
chickens and the corn, which had been brought by the devoted
negro in tribute to her charms. Up to this point, the story had assumed
none but a ludicrous aspect in the sight of the young
planter. The petty appropriations of his property of which Mingo
had been guilty, did not awaken any very great degree of indignation,
and, with the levity of youth, he did not seem to regard
in the serious light which it merited, the wanton pursuit and lascivious
purposes of the driver. But as the woman quietly proceeded
in her narrative, and described the violence which had
destroyed her pottery, the countenance of the master darkened.
This act seemed one of such determined malignity, that he inly
determined to punish it severely. The next statement of Caloya
led him to do more justice to virtue, and make a darker estimate
yet of the doings of his driver. She did not tell him that her husband
was jealous, but she unfolded the solemn requisition which
he had last made of her to secure the arms of Mingo in her embrace,
while he revenged himself for the insults to which he had
been subjected with the sharp edge of the hatchet. The young
planter started as he heard the statement. His eye was fixed intently
and inquiringly upon the calm, resolute, and seemingly
frozen features of the speaker. She ceased to speak, and the
pause of a few seconds followed ere Gillison replied:
“But you and your husband surely mean not to murder the
fellow, my good woman? He has done wrong and I will have
him punished; but you must not think to use knife and hatchet
upon him.”
“When Enefisto says `strike' to Caloya—Caloya will strike!
Caloya is the woman of Enefisto. Let not Mingo come into the
wigwam of the Indian.”
Gillison could not doubt her resolution as he heard the deliberate
and subdued accents of her voice, and surveyed the composed
features of her countenance. The determination to do the
bidding of her husband was there expressed in language the least
equivocal. His own countenance was troubled; he had not
resolved what course to pursue, and the woman, having fulfilled
stolen coat, though, with the proper tenderness of a wife, she
omitted to say that it had been stolen. According to her story
Mingo had left it behind him on the myrtles. Her second object
had been to save the driver from his fate, and no more effectual
mode suggested itself to her mind than by revealing the whole
truth to the master. This had been done and she had no further
cause to stay. The young planter, after he had instituted a series
of inquiries from which he ascertained what were the usual
periods when Mingo visited the encampment, how he made his
approaches, and in what manner the hovel was built, and where
it lay, did not seek to delay her longer. His own knowledge of
the “Red Gulley”—a knowledge obtained in boyhood—enabled
him to form a very correct notion of all the circumstances of the
place; and to determine upon the particulars of a plan which
had risen in his mind, by which to save his driver from the
danger which threatened him. This done, he begged her to await
for a few moments his return, while he ascended to an upper
chamber, from whence he brought and offered her a piece of
bright calico, such as he well knew would be apt to provoke the
admiration of an Indian woman; but she declined it, shaking her
head mournfully as she did so, and moving off hurriedly as if to
lose the temptation from her sight as quickly as possible. Gillison
fancied there was quite as much of despondency as pride in
her manner of refusing the gift. It seemed to say that she had
no heart for such attractions now. Such indeed was the true
exposition of her feelings. What pride could she have in gorgeous
apparel, allied to one so brutal, so cruel, so worthless as
her husband; and why should she care for such display, when,
by his jealous policy, she was withdrawn from all connection
with her people, in whose eyes alone she might desire to appear
attractive. But the young planter was not to be refused. He
would have forced the gift upon her, and when she suffered it to
drop at her feet, he expressed himself in words of remonstrance,
the tones of which were, perhaps, of more influence than the sense.
“Why not take the stuff, my good woman? You have well
deserved it, and much more at my hands. If you do not take it,
I will think you believe me to be as bad as Mingo.”
She looked at him with some earnestness for a few seconds,
then stooping, picked up the bundle, and immediately placed it
beneath her arm.
“No, no!” she said, “white man is good. Black man is bad.
Does the master remember? Let not Mingo come into the wigwam
of Enefisto.”
Colonel Gillison promised that he would endeavour to prevent
any further mischief, and, with a sad smile of gratitude upon her
countenance, the woman retired from his presence as stealthily as
she came. He had enjoined her, if possible, to avoid being seen
on leaving the settlement, and it was not hard for one of Catawba
birth to obey so easy an injunction. She succeeded in gaining
the “Red Gulley” undiscovered, but there, to her consternation,
who should she encounter, at the very first glance, but the impudent
and formidable Mingo, sitting, cheek-by-jowl, with her
jealous husband, each, seemingly, in a perfect mood of equal
and christian amity. It was a sight to gratify the credulous, but
Caloya was not one of these.
| CHAPTER X. The wigwam and the cabin | |