University of Virginia Library

3. CHAPTER III.
“HARRICANE NELL.”

The prisoner, wholly unresisting, was thrust forward by the
two ruffians in whose grasp he stood, followed closely by the
vindictive captain of the party, his sword drawn in one hand,
and a pistol concealed beside him in the other. The troop followed
on, or led the way for the culprit.

The old millhouse stood not more than fifty yards from the
cabin which they had left, and a few moments sufficed to bring
the party to the place which was destined for the execution.
The procession was conducted in deep silence, only broken by
an occasional muttering, in oath and threat, from the lips of
Watkins. He knew the tenure by which he maintained his
rule over his refugees; and the reckless and wild spirit of defiance
exhibited by Floyd was in proof of the presence of feelings,
among the rest, which, however unspoken as yet, he had
every reason to apprehend. Nay, the flight of his treasurer,
Rhodes, and the small party which followed or accompanied
him, was conclusive of a discontent in the squadron, which only
needed a bold leader to rouse up into mutiny among the whole.
Watkins was prepared to believe that it would require more
than the one victim to quiet, in season, the growth of this insubordinate
spirit; and he kept eager watch upon the party — resolved,
with the first provocation from any other quarter, to
make a prompt example of the offender.

It is probable enough that the troop, all of them, felt instinctively
what was working in the mind of their captain. They
knew that, if he was a rascal, he was not less a reckless ruffian,
who would not scruple at any violence; and they were, none

of them, quite prepared to bring their discontents to a sudden
trial of their respective strength. They marched over the
ground quietly, with the full consciousness that they were under
the eye and arm of a sudden and fierce authority.

The savage spirit of the culprit, too, appeared to have died
out after the signal ebullition of life which it had displayed.
Whether it was that he remained under the stupor occasioned
by the severe blow which had stricken him down, or that he
felt how idle would be any exhibition now, of either passion or
apprehension, he was led docilely to the place of execution.
This was soon reached.

The millhouse was one of the ordinary structures used for
this purpose throughout the country — a large, unsightly frame
of wood, almost wholly unenclosed, of two stories, the lower
consisting only of naked supports, the upper naked also, but
with a partial and broken flooring — the planks loosely laid
down, here and there revealing frequent openings, and offering
everywhere a very unsteady footing. The ascent to this second
story was by a pile of refuse slabs, or scantling, the ends
of which, on one side, rested upon the earth, and on the opposite
against the plates of the second story — thus forming an
inclined plane, of some steepness, the ascent of which required
due painstaking and caution. This was the only eligible mode
left for ascending, unless we look round to the other side of the
building, where, rising from the pond, and with the ends resting
also upon the plate of the second story, we may note a couple
of huge logs of ranging-timber, such as had been left unsawed
when the mill-seat was suddenly abandoned.

The course taken by the refugees brought them, with the
culprit, to the pile of refuse planks, which they immediately began
to ascend. Hitherto, there had been no delay, except such
as was inevitable from the darkness — which the two torches,
borne by as many of the party, failed to illumine, save for a
few paces around them, and which left it necessary that each
man should pick his way with a proper painstaking. The culprit,
thus far, had offered no resistance, and showed as little
reluctance; the stupor, or indifference, with which he began the
march, appearing to continue. But, when he was midway up
the steep plane of tottering planks, there was a struggle, under

which the unwieldy pile swayed, and shook, and groaned, as if
about to sink down in the middle, and fall together, in a heap.
This was in consequence of a desperate effort of the prisoner,
very suddenly made, at a moment when the plank was overcrowded.
The fellow, rendered cool and vigilant by a considerable
ruffian experience, had been economizing his strength
and temper for the first favorable moment. And he was as
strong as he was resolute, with a wonderful wiry muscle, as we
may suppose, from its sudden exhibition when he made his
heels return the indignity, in the face of his captain, which the
fists of the other had inflicted upon his own.

He had timed his purpose well; and, could he have succeeded
in throwing off the grasp of the two stout fellows who had him
by the shoulder — a performance which he would most probably
have achieved had his arms been free — his chances of escape
were good. His plan was, once relieved of their grasp, to leap
out boldly, headlong into the darkness — from this place, out
into the swamp; well knowing that, if he escaped any evil in
the leap, he could easily elude pursuit under the circumstances.
All the torches of the party, by night, would have availed the
pursuers but little in such wild and dismal recesses. Mat Floyd
knew the situation well. The mill had been established by old
Rhodes; had been managed by Nat Rhodes, who had married
the sister of the culprit; and he had played, and leaped, and
gambolled, a thousand tlmes, among its slopes and hollows, over
its causeway, and among its coves, and banks, and brambles;
and he attached but little importance to the mere dangers of the
leap. Familiar with the whole locality, he felt assured that,
unless he should lucklessly encounter some misplaced log, or
fallen tree, his descent must be made into a tolerably soft cypress-bottom,
in which he could not suffer much injury. Whatever
the risk, the poor fellow was inclined to take it, if he
could, and leave his chances of escape to fortune, to the sheltering
darkness, and to his own experience of the thousand harboring
intricacies of such a region: any prospect was preferable
to the one before him. He knew that he was doomed otherwise!

But the effort, though vigorously made, was fruitless. His
fettered arms — the firm grasp of the two men who held him —

defeated the attempt; though the whole scaffolding upon which
the party struggled shook like a leaf in the wind, swaying and
cracking beneath their weight.

For a moment — a single moment — the brave fellow entertained
a hope — as one of his keepers tottered on the very verge
of the plane, and hung over, balancing doubtfully for an instant
of time, until rescued from fall by the help of another who
scrambled up behind him; but it was a breathless, desperate effort,
into which the culprit threw a degree of muscle and energy
which none who regarded merely the slightness of his figure
would ever have supposed him to possess. Borne down, after
this effort, he submitted without a word, and was hurried up the
plane without more resistance.

“Bring up the torches,” cried the captain; “there's no seeing
what's to be done, or where to step. Here, this way, fellow!
What the d—l are you looking after, down the millrace
— your grandmother's blessing? You must look deeper, and
into a darker place, if you would look for that. Here, away!
bring more lights — more torches. Let us see that the thing's
done handsomely.”

And the lights were brought; and the captain strode boldly
along the scattered planks, forming the imperfect flooring of the
place.

“Whoo-whoo! whoo-whoo!” screamed the horned owl, whom
this sudden invasion of light drove from his place of harborage
under the broken eaves.

“Ay! be off, croaker! If he had stayed, he might have
served the purpose of a parson! We know who, and you will
know, too, hereafter! — Well, what's it, Murdoch?”

“Didn't you hear a whistle, captain?”

“No!”

“I thought I heard a whistle just below, there, down upon
the causeway.”

“Perhaps! but it don't matter. You can be looking about
you, and making ready for what's to come. Who's to whistle,
think you? Some of these runaways? Let them bring their
whistles here, if they would have their pipes squeezed till the
wind gave out! We shall stop this chap's whistle, at all events.
Hale him on, fellows!”

It was now that the culprit might have been heard to speak
in low, hoarse, half-apprehensive tones to those beside him.

“Let me jump, Snell — Fritz! That's all! Jest let me jump.
You won't let me be hung for jest heving my own rights.”

“'Kaint be did, Mat,” was the whispered answer. “No
chaince.”

“I'll tell you where to find the hidings!”

“Well, what do you stay for?” demanded the captain hoarsely.
“Bring him up. You know the beam! You have the
rope, Fritz! Quick, and fling him out! He wants justice, does
he? I'll not sleep to-night tlll I see him kick the beam!

Our captain of refugees, as you will perceive, was something
of a wit.

In spite of his peremptory orders, there was still some little
lingering on the part of those who had the culprit in charge.
He still had time for other pleadings and promises.

Now, what might have been the disposition to help him off,
of Fritz and Snell, it is impossible for us to conjecture. But it
seems that Watkins suspected them. Of course, when Floyd
exposed the captain's dishonorable approaches to the sister,
Nell Floyd, or, as all parties seemed to call her, “Harricane
(the vulgar corruption of Hurricane) Nell,” and when he administered
the “shodden foot” to the face and dignity of his
superior, he had put his case entirely beyond the pale of hope
or mercy. From that moment he was doomed, and all parties
knew it.

Watkins doubted his men — possibly suspected Fritz and
Snell in particular — was, at all events, resolved that his victim
should never escape him. He said to two of the fellows beside
him:—

“Betts — Murdoch — see to those fellows, and bring the rascal
forward. If he escapes, mark me, I'll have it out of you.
See to it. Bring him on. Those fellows are playing false.
There's a bribe working.”

Betts and Murdoch immediately dashed over the rickety
planking.

“Who talked about a whistle?” demanded Watkins. “I
hear one, too.

“And there goes another,” quoth Ben Tynson.

“Bring him on, Murdoch!” was the cry of Watkins. “There's
some rascality afoot. Bring him on, and run him up. Waste
no time.”

“Cappin!” cried the criminal, struggling with the new men
who seized him, and crying hoarsely — “cappin!”

“Well! what? Pitch your whistle as you please, scoundrel,
it sha'n't save your neck! What have you to say?”

To the surprise of all parties, the response of the culprit
seemed to be a jeering one.

“You wouldn't like to be gitting all that pile of silver and
gould that's hid away?”

“What do you mean?”

“Only that you'd better save that, and let me save my neck.
I wants to live jest as long as God will let me.”

“God! you intolerable rebel! God's got nothing to do with
such as you.”

“Well, the devil, then! Don't matter much which, so I clear
the rope and timber. I'll git you all the money and plate. It's
no small chance, I tells you, if you'll clear the track for me!
But, you must let me hev' my heels for it!”

There might have been a moment's pause in the reply of
Watkins, and it does not much matter what occasioned it—
whether it was because he was confounded by the cool, almost
contemptuous tones of the speaker, or that he really suffered his
cupidity to urge the arguments to his mind, in spite of his anger
— but suddenly he cried out:—

“No, rascal, if you offered me all the gold of India, I would
not let you off. Run him up, Murdoch, and stop his tongue for
ever! It's one rascal less in the world; one rascal more in a
crowded country; and we shall happily get rid of him! And
let every man present, that's not altogether in the right humor
to toe the mark with his friends and officers, let him take warning,
and respect the virtue of the halter; for, as sure as I'm your
captain, and a living man, able to pull trigger or wield sabre, so
sure will I serve, with just the same sauce, every fellow that
offers to play traitor!”

The fellows Murdoch and Betts were more under the captain's
authority, or more savage than the two who had previously had
the culprit in their keeping. He was torn away from between

them in a moment; and, whatever their feelings in his favor,
they had no longer the power to indulge them. As for the victim,
he seemed to entertain no hopes from his new custodians.
Was he callous?

They bore him onward, beneath the fatal timber, without resistance.
The rope was adjusted to his throat in the smallest
possible space of time, showing the parties to be well practised
in their business, and quite in earnest; and, as the torches waved
above the prisoner, the flame showed him ready for the doom,
and conspicuous in the sight of all parties.

Some faces were turned away; the rest were grouped around,
silent, if not sympathizing. The prisoner was erect. He too
was silent. Had he any hopes? He offered no prayers, to
either God or man — none that were audible, at all events!

“Well!” cried the captain, “has he any confession to make?
Let him out with it!”

“He won't speak,” was the answer.

“Then up with him, and let him die dumb, like the dog that
he is!”

It is, perhaps, not at all surprising, the degree of callosity
which the mind acquires from familiarity with brutality and
scenes of strife. It is, perhaps, as little to surprise, that men
yield themselves to death, under the same sort of training, with
the stolidity of the brute, if not with the resolute defiance of
the hero! The two fellows to whom the execution of the culprit
was intrusted, proceeded to their office as coolly as if the
victim were a mad dog only; and he, calmly staring them in
the face, without word or plea, appeared as perfectly resigned
to the doom that threatened him.

The cord was thrown over the beam, and the stalwart arms
of the two drew it down, hand over hand, while the victim went
up in air.

“It's up with him, is it?” cried the captain.

“He kicks free,” was the answer of Murdoch.

“Then keep him up till he stops kicking. He'll find, when
all's over, that he's kicked once too often for his own salvation.
Let him kick there till he rots!”

Scarcely had he spoken the words, when there was a shrill
scream from below — a human cry — then a rustling sound and

movement; and, in a moment after, a slight form, the outline
of which, seen in the waving light of the torches, appeared to
be that of a woman, rushed up to a level with the group, ascending
the building from the side against which, as we remember,
rested the two great logs of ranging-timber left unsawn. The
movement was like that of light — a flight — a flash — and the
unannounced being, darting forward to where the culprit swung,
a foot or more above the general level, with a single stroke,
which nobody had time to prevent, she cut the victim down,
smiting the rope which suspended him with a long, keen, glittering
knife; and, in the next instant, flashing the blade full in
the faces of the two executioners, whose hands still kept hold
upon the divided cord. They yielded incontinently before her,
in panic, so sudden and unexpected was the movement — so
fierce the threatening gesture.

“Harricane Nell, by the powers!” was the involuntary exclamation
from half-a-dozen round.

“Yes!” was the cry in answer; “it's Harricane Nell, you
bloody, bitter villains, that's come here to look upon the disgrace
of man! Where's he? where's that black-hearted, bloodthirsty
villain? where's Lem Watkins? Let me see him, that
I may spit upon him, and defy him to his teeth!”

And she turned to where the principal ruffian stood, hardly
yet recovered from his amazement, and certainly not yet determined
what to do, in this novel condition of affairs.

Meanwhile, the culprit, who had been too promptly relieved
to have suffered materially from his momentary strangulation,
sunk down upon the rude flooring, where, for an instant, he lay
crouching, and recovering his senses and his strength. These
returned to him sufficiently soon; for, taking advantage of the
surprise which had been occasioned by the unexpected entrance
of the stranger, he crawled a single pace, to where the planks
opened, and, in the darkness and confusion of the scene, quietly
dropped through into the space below — an achievement which
did not seem to entail any special hurt upon his person.

But his descent was heard, and it served to recall the refugee
captain to his senses.

“Ha! you have let the scamp escape!”

“Ay!” cried the woman, swiftly crossing the space to the

spot where Watkins stood — flitting over the scattering planks
as if she did not heed their support, and confronting him —
“ay, and you may help yourself as you can! Send out your
scouts, and see what chance they will have in these swamps, in
the darkness, against one born under their cover. A cracked
crown, each of them, more likely than a captive!”

“Woman! what do you here?”

“To save the brother whom you would have butchered, to
revenge the scorn of the sister.”

“It is false, wench!”

“Wench! — Dog! — False! True as any star in heaven!
And there is not one of these here but believes it!”

“Having robbed us, you come back to insult us, do you?”

“Robbed! Yes! you have talked much of our robberies!
But let the troop search the luggage of their captain, and they
will find proof of robberies far beyond anything which has ever
been charged to us.”

“Mad woman, you lie!” was the furious roar of the refugee
captain.

“Do I lie!” exclaimed the woman. “Then prove it!
Throw your luggage open to search; nay, only show the fine
things that your villany offered to me when you would have
bought me to dishonor; and to this boy, and to my sister's
husband, when you would have had them sell me to dishonor.
But, what care I, whether you spoil these dastardly
wretches of their gains or not. Rob them as you please, they
deserve it. Kick them as you will, you can not degrade them
below their present stature. But me and mine, Lem Watkins,
you shall neither rob nor kick while I can help it or prevent.
You call me mad, do you? Well, I am mad for you; and my
madness shall carry knife and dagger for you, felon, whenever
you dare to cross my path or threaten. I am done with you, I
hope for ever. It will be wise for you to have done with me
and mine. They are out of your clutches now, and that is all
for which I care. As for the miserable toy for which you would
have taken my brother's life, here it is. It is all that ever came
to me out of your accursed treachery. Take it, wretch, with
all its blood upon it, and may the curse which follows blood
cling with it to your soul for ever.”

Thus speaking, she pulled a gold watch with a sparkling
chain from her bosom, and hurled it full at the face of the refugee
captain.

He caught it ere it struck, or fell.

“You have done with us, Harricane Nell, but most excellent
wench, we have not done with you. You have rescued the
criminal; you shall be a hostage in his place. Seize her, men,
and we shall recover all our stolen treasures!”

“Let me see the man who dares!” cried the bold girl,
striding back a pace, so that her person stood out bravely in
the evening light, on the very verge of the mill, and where it
was totally unbounded. With a spring she could bury herself,
as her brother had done, in the thick darkness which shrouded
all the mill-pond below, overgrown with weeds, dark with shrub
and tree, a region in which, by night, search was idle, and pursuit
almost physically impossible.

“Come on who will! I am ready! I can smite, too, as you
know, when it is a ruffian's throat that implores my knife. One
spring, and I can escape and laugh at you. But I do not mean
to spring. I would have your brave captain do the work himself
which he calls upon you to execute. I am ready for him,
though he carries sword and pistol. Know, Lem Watkins, that
we laugh at you, as we loathe you. You are, in fact, in our
power. In your fury, you forgot your precautions. Where
are the rifles and pistols of your party?”

“Hell!” cried one and then another. “They are in the
cabin.”

“Ha! fools!” cried the captain, “you did not leave your
weapons behind you?”

“Well, we didn't see as there would have been any use for
'em jist now,” growled one of the subordinates.

“Oh! fools! fools! blockheads!”

“Yes, and none greater than their captain,” cried the woman.
“Your rifles and pistols are in our possession, with hardly an
exception, save those which your captain carries. And, look to
each corner of this building, and you will see an armed man,
armed to the teeth, with gun and pistol, and with the bead
ready drawn upon every enemy present; upon you first, Lem
Watkins, if you dare to budge a peg; upon you next Black

Murdoch; upon you, viperous Sam Betts, as viperous as your
captain is murderous, and as cowardly as you are viperous!
We are ready to make our cross upon every one of you whom
we know to be malignant as wicked. Look about you, and see
that I speak the truth. See if you recognise, as of your party,
the dark figures that stand ready to do my bidding, at every
corner of this house!”