 | CHAPTER X. The King of the Hurons |  |
10. CHAPTER X.
A freestone colored hand.”
—Shakspeare. As you Like it.
When Jule, after her remarkable pugilistic feat, started anew
upon her race, it was, at first, with confused and ill-directed efforts.
She found herself “headed off,” to use an expressive phrase, in every
attempt to approach any settled quarter of the city; and the nearest
dwelling in the direction which she was compelled to take was so
remote, as to afford but little hope that she could reach it before
being overtaken. She resolved, however, to try; for she was strong
and active, and notwithstanding the restraints of her novel dress,
made no inconsiderable progress. Her tight, cramping shoes were
the principal impediment to speed, and these she resolved to discard;
an operation which resulted in a decided expansion of the released
members, and enabled them to get, what in the vocabulary of the
fancy would be called a better bite of the ground. Her speed now
visibly increased, and her panting pursuers beheld with astonishment
her prodigious exploits both of strength and agility. Nothing
seemed to impede her flight; hill and valley were alike easily overcome;
if a ditch interposed, Jule went over at a flying leap, and the
fences were either passed, in quadrupedal mode, through chinks and
gaps, or else were surmounted and bestridden in a manner less elegant
than energetic; retaining, withal, many torn trophies-from her dress,
and holding them up fluttering to the wind.
For a while everything promised success, and her chagrined pursuers,
lagging in the chase, strove by loud threats to terrify her into
efforts had caused a rapid expenditure of strength; and while her
anticipated refuge was yet at a long distance, her speed began
visibly to decrease. She could not rally; the pirates gained rapidly
upon her, and her capture became inevitable. With ready sagacity,
therefore, she readjusted her dress in order to prolong the deception
in regard to her person; for she did not, of course, know whether
Blanche's safety was yet secured, or whether she had even gained
courage to leave the house. She had barely time for this precaution
before she found herself in the rude grasp of her captors, who vented
many an oath upon her stubbornness, and placing her between two
of their number, proceeded to retrace their steps.
Jule did not struggle or speak; all her thoughts were for the
safety of Blanche, and her only efforts were to avoid discovery. The
party proceeded rapidly to their boats, and in ten minutes were
gliding across the water in the direction of a ship, which lay anchored
near the opposite side of the river; in a still shorter time, subsequently,
the veiled slave was sitting alone and undisturbed in its cabin.
Mr. Boatswain Bluff, meanwhile, had sought out Major Grover,
and informed him of the flight of Miss Montaigne, of her capture,
and of the escape of the slave; and the major, both mortified and
angry at Blanche's continued resistance to his suit, rejoiced at an
extremity which would no longer admit of compromise or retraction.
He at once accompanied Bluff on board the vessel, listening, meanwhile,
with much astonishment to the narrative of Blanche's
wonderful exploits, both in pugilism and locomotion.
“She's a Tartar, sir, she is,” said Bluff, “begging your honor's
pardon; Bill Sweeps' eye, sir, is as good as out, and he aint any
baby to handle either; your honor would do well to be careful how
you speak her.”
“The most timid of animals will show courage and strength when
driven to extremities,” replied Grover; “and yet it seems wonderful
that even desperation could give power to one so very delicate.”
“Not so delicate, your honor,” returned Bluff, bending to his oars
—“she's got a fist, sir—”
“A fist, Bluff?”
“Like a sledge-hammer!” said the boatswain.
“You are a fool,” replied Grover, “her hand is like a child's, small,
white, and dimpled—it could not stagger a kitten—Bill Sweeps must
have fallen from mere fright.”
“Well, sir, it aint for me to dispute your honor, but seein' is
believin', and mayhap your honor 'll see and believe by and by—but
I say she has a fist—and feet too, that aint no trifles!”
“Her feet are like a doll's—like a fairy's, like a Chinese princess's,
small, and of the most exquisite symmetry, and her ancles are like
—like—”
“Like a cricket-club, I swear,” said Bluff, laughing, “and she made
a very liberal display of them, too, in scampering across fields, jumping
ditches, and tumbling over fences.”
Grover, now thoroughly incensed, was about to reply angrily,
but remembering the importance of keeping on good terms with the
outlaw, he suppressed his wrath as he best could. Since he had
stooped to converse familiarly with his companion, he could scarcely
complain that the latter took some license, and even perpetrated a
few jokes at his expense. The sailor's propensity for fun, together
with a desire to magnify the difficulties of a very simple achievement,
was, he was convinced, at the bottom of all his marvellous stories.
“Well, well,” he said, “a joke's a joke, and you are welcome to
yours; I only wish, since you had your eyes so wide open, that you
had managed to capture the wench—it don't speak very well
for five strong men that one woman has baffled them altogether,
and another almost.”
“Fact, sir, fact,” replied the boatswain, “that's a disgrace to our
flag, that is; Joe Bluff feels it to his fingers' ends, he does, and if
your honor wants a wench to wait on the lady, I'll go and pick one
up yet, somewhere.”
Grover, of course, declined this offer, and as they had now reached
the vessel, their colloquy came to a close. Everything was ready
for instantaneous departure, the wind was fair, and the major was
not disposed to create any delay. He conversed for a few moments
with the captain, and while the ship was brought around, he
descended into the cabin, and found himself alone with the prisoner.
Jule had seen his approach to the ship, she felt assured of Miss
Montaigne's safety, and there was no longer any necessity for continuing
her deception, yet she trembled for the result of a disclosure,
and uncertain how best to accomplish it, sat hesitating, and nearly
stupefied with terror, when Grover made his appearance. Her hands,
from which, for convenience, she had removed the gloves, were concealed
beneath her veil, which was of ample dimensions, and of a
favoring hue, and although there was everything in the outline of
her figure, and in its general air, to confirm suspicion, when once
fairly aroused, there was nothing of itself sufficient to unsettle an
existing prepossession. Fatigue, flight, and distress, accounted for
everything unusual or awkward, and the well-known curls, fluttering
like aspen leaves, with the emotion that shook every part of the poor
girl's frame, seemed a proof of identity, equal to a notary's certificate,
sealed and stamped.
Grover hastened to address her in a tone of apology and condolence.
Her own rash action, he said, had precipitated an event which
really need not have occurred, and which he had not anticipated;
he was most sorry for any alarm or trouble which it had occasioned
her, and hoped everything would be imputed only to the excess of
his passion.
“And now,” he said, “dear Blanche, let this farce come to an
end; only pledge me solemnly your faith, and we will return at
once to land, and our wedding shall be celebrated with princely
magnificence; I need not urge that you are in my power; that
you have no possible escape; that we are bound on a three weeks'
cruise, and that when we return, you will no longer have the power
sob, and the sound of hurried respiration, were the only reply:
an increased tremor shook the frame of the captive, and the little
glossy ringlets danced like electrified feathers.
“You do not speak harshly to me,” continued Grover—“you will
relent—you will not withstand the ardor of a devotion, which has so
nearly driven me to madness.”
The chattering of teeth beneath the veil, and a choked and indistinct
articulation at length manifested an attempt to reply.
“Speak but one word of encouragement!” exclaimed Grover, in
an excitement of suspense.
“Boo-ooh-ooh!” exclaimed Jule, crying hysterically, like a child,
and with no musical intonation.
“Rage has no tears,” said Grover, “and these are auspicious
signs—calm yourself, dear Blanche!” Thus saying, he touched with
gentlest motion the lace-encircled wrist which lay nearest to him,
and sought to draw the appendant hand from beneath the veil.
It came! Was it a serpent with protruded fangs? Was it a
Leyden battery, triply charged? or why has the suitor sprung backward
from the contact, with a face in which every lineament is
wrought to madness,—with ashen lips, that quiver but do not speak,
with eyes riveted, as by some horrid fascination, upon the object
which he has revealed? Ungloved, the broad, black, bony member
lay before him, with its huge knuckles, and the club-like termini of
its fingers, proclaiming the whole story of his discomfiture and disgrace.
It was no dream, no diablerie, no freak of a frightened
imagination,—but an awful, evident, insurmountable reality, destined
to whelm him with ridicule unprecedented and unending. Breath,
speech, and the power of motion returned at length, and the roar of
an unbridled rage ascending to the deck, drew the leading ruffians
wondering to the cabin door; the discovery flew from mouth to
mouth, until the boisterous merriment of the crew outsounded the
tumult below, and for a while defied every attempt at control. The
expecting death, yet plucking up spirit, had retreated to the wall,
and assumed an attitude of defiance, as with glaring eyes she
watched the movements of her captors. Grover, with clenched fists,
stood at her side, trampling unconsciously upon his tasselled cap,
and incoherently questioning both the prisoner and the crest-fallen
Bluff, who, as the leader of the kidnapping expedition, was chiefly
chargeable with its failure.
“What devil prompted you to this deceit?” he said fiercely to
the former.
“I did it mysef,” said Jule, boldly, “if you kill me for it; Missa
Blanche was good to Jule—nobody was ever good to Jule before—
and now—and now, I have saved her life, and I'm glad of it.”
“You're an idiot!” retorted Grover, stamping with passion, “and
you shall be drowned like a rat for your pains—overboard with the
chattering baboon!” he continued, turning to the men.
The pirates looked at each other, at Bluff, and at their captain,
who, smiling under a hideous mustache, had been, from the back-ground,
a silent observer of events. The boatswain, willing to do
something towards wiping out his own disgrace, but unused to
receiving orders excepting from his leader, stepped forward, and
looked to the latter for approval.
“Come, dispatch!” shouted Grover; “we'll show her how to
walk a plank with a spring to it—drag her along!”
No one stirred; and Grover, glancing fiercely around the room,
caught the eye of the captain, who, coming forward at the same
moment, said:
“Major Grover, this ere job wasn't in the agreement at all; and
though I aint very squeamish about sich matters, yet it's rather
dangerous here in port, and my boys shan't have nothing to do with
it—howsomever, major, ef you want to drownd the wench—why
there she is, and there's the water—nobody shan't interfere!”
“Let him try it!” said Jule, with defiance.
Grover foamed with rage: “Give me a pistol, then!” he
exclaimed, turning to Bluff, who handed him one of a pair, which
was stuck in his belt; “Stand back there, boys,; we'll try the
toughness of her hide—stand back!”
But at this moment a shout of “fair play!” rang from one side of
the cabin, and a large negro, one of the crew, crowding himself
forward, rushed up to Jule, and placed one of his own pistols in her
hand;—“fair play!” he said,—“don't shoot the child down like a
wolf—if pistols is the word, let 'em both have 'em!”
The movement appealed strongly to the sympathies of the
pirates, as well as to their rude sense of justice, and the novelty of
the idea was irresistibly attractive. The captain, solicitous for Grover's
safety, attempted to interfere, and ordered the slave to be
disarmed; but the clamor outsounded his authority, and no one
offered to obey, which might indeed have proved a dangerous
undertaking. The men fell back to clear a space for the combat,
but Grover, declining so extraordinary a duel, had mingled with the
retreating phalanx, and quite disappeared from the view of his
antagonist.
Still frantic with wrath, he yet had sense to perceive his ludicrous
position, and would have needed but little additional goading to
cause him to turn his weapon upon himself. He went upon deck,
and sought the fresh air, postponing for a few minutes his still
determined revenge; but delay brought reflection, and a change
of views. He was a bad man, but not bad enough, excepting in
the very boiling of passion, to murder one whose only fault had
been fidelity to a friend. Perhaps he might still have accomplished
such an object if he had persisted in it; but he was heartily sickened
of the whole transaction, and asked for nothing but to be
quietly put on shore. He made no terms about the negress, never
doubting that she would be carried away and sold, inasmuch as the
business of slave-snatching was quite profitable, and frequently
formed an interlude to the more legitimate pursuits of the pirates.
he called it, to return to port, and was compelled to seek some
other market for his cargo; he parted with his guest with many
apologies, and, mindful that he might yet find the services of the
major highly valuable in so growing an emporium as New York,
made him heartily welcome to the specimens of silks, laces, etc.,
which the latter had received, and which, having been left on the
premises of Mrs. Sniff, became a windfall of the first magnitude to
that lady.
But the worst of men have some human sympathies unseared.
The ruffians had been struck with admiration at Jule's whole conduct;
her craft and courage especially eliciting their praise. Her
fellow African interceded earnestly for her release, and the popular
voice deciding it, she was set ashore the same afternoon on the
Long Island side of the bay, a few miles south of the city.
| CHAPTER X. The King of the Hurons | |