Wild Jack; or, The stolen child: and other stories. Including the celebrated Magnolia leaves

Contents

WILD JACK ; OR, THE STOLEN CHILD . . . Page 17

PERCY; OR, THE BANISHED SON 81

THE LITTLE BROOM BOY Ill

Part I

*' Think not the heart in ebon mould To nature's softest touch is cold, Or that the negro's skin contains No bright or animated veins, Where, though no blush its course betrays, The blood in all its wildness plays."

<' We might call this Elliottville/' said Mrs. Elliott to her husband, as they wandered about the grounds of the habitation which he had just rented, and which were beautiful in vernal bloom. " I have counted at least several houses in this single green enclosure.''^

" Each about as large as a humming bird's nest," answered her husband laughingly. "^ This white building, with green blinds and broad piazza, is our parlour. The one on the right, with low, slanting roof, containing three rooms, will accommodate us with a sitting room, dormitory, and refreshment room. Yonder, under the shade of the chestnut boughs, is my library, and study. Every building has its appropriate office ; and dotting, as they do, this smooth green sward, have quite a novel and picturesque effect.'^

" What a singular taste the architect must have had V said the lady. "These little cabins remind me of a watering place, and far down in that wild-looking glen, behind the 2 * (17)

buildings, I hear the murniur of a gushing spring. How charming ! But there is a house quite remote from this cluster, embosomed in a grove of young oaks. It looks as if it might be a chapel, from its devout, sequestered appearance.^'

*' You can convert it into one, if you please. But here comes our darling Bessy. She will revive here in this pure, sweet air. It is almost like living in the country."

A young black girl approached, bearing in her arras an infant of about nine months old. The child was exceedingly fair and delicate, and the clear blue of the heavens was painted on the mirror of its soft, smiling eyes. It was lovely, but wanted the rosy charm of health, the spring, the bound that belongs to vigorous infancy. The child seemed to have inherited from its mother, extreme delicacy of constitution, for Mrs. Elliott's cheek was pale as the white rose she had just gathered, and her figure was slender, even to fragility.

" Have you succeeded in your search ?" she asked in a tremulous voice, of her husband, casting a tearful glance at little Bessy, who, now seated on the grass, by her sable attendant, looked round with a pleased and wondering expression.

"I have;'' he replied, '^ and think you will be perfectly satisfied. She is a young mulatto woman, of the name of Dilsy, with a little boy, about one year old. She is free, and lives by herself, taking in sewing and washing. Her husband is dead, and there seems to be no obstacle to her accepting the situation in our family you are anxious to have filled."

" I cannot bear the idea of her having a coloured nurse,'^ said the mother, gazing anxiously on the sweet pale infant playing in the grass, " but I would make any sacrifice for our mutual health. I should like to see this woman."

" Yonder she comes now, leading her little boy," exclaimed Mr. Elliott, pointing towards the gate. " I told her to come immediately, thinking she would recommend herself better than I could do it for her."

" She has a very prepossessing countenance," said Mrs. Elliott, watching with interest the advancing figure of Dilsy. " I think I could trust her."

Dilsy walked slowly, accommodating her movements to those of her little boy, who waded through the long grass by her side, his black, woolly head popping up and down, with marvellous quickness, as if his journey were more upward than onward. Dilsy was tall and well formed, and moved with the native grace of an African. Her complexion was a clear golden brown, and, what was very remarkable in one of her colonr, her lips had a tinge of redness which beautified her whole face. She wore a party-coloured handkerchief round her head, but her hair was visible below it, and the crispy wool of the African was straightened and burnished in her, into Indian glossiness and length. She had an indolent, reposing countenance, exceedingly pleasant and rather handsome. Though, as we have said, her own complexion had a bright golden tint, the child whom she led by the hand, was as black as ebony. The white of his eyes and the ivory of his teeth gleamed dazzingly from the little shining, sable face they enlivened. His very short frock exhibited to the fullest advantage his round, glossy, and well proportioned limbs. As he came .near, he broke from his mother's hand, and began to make somersets in the grass, with inconceivable rapidity, and to the delight of little Bessy, who clapped her waxen hands and laughed outright.

"Behave yourself, Jim !" said his mother; but he was too much engaged in his antics to heed her rebuke, and Mrs. Elliott told her to let the children amuse themselves, while she questioned her on the subject nearest her heart. ' Her own health, and that of her infant, were so feeble that the physician had urged upon her the necessity of transferring her child to another nurse, as the only means of restoring either. Mr. Elliott had been for some time in search of a proper person, when Dilsy was recommended, who seemed to possess every necessary qualification.

"■ We can give her the chapel for her room," said Mrs. Elliott ; and Dilsy and little Jim took possession of the cabin, shaded by young oaks, and the little fragile Bessy soon derived health and strength from the veins of the handsome mulatto.

The only objection Mrs. Elliott could make to Dilsy was, that she seemed deficient in sensibility. She never lavished on Bessy any of those endearing caresses which negro nurses usually bestow on their masters' children, thus breaking down, as it were, the dark wall that separates the races from each other. She was kind and attentive to her charge, but as soon as she had fulfilled her duty, she would transfer it without any demonstration of afi"ection to its other nurse, and occupy herself calmly with her accustomed work. Neither did she manifest any tenderness for her own child. She took great pride in dressing him neatly, and when the ladies, who visited Mrs. Elliott, noticed the boy, praising his intelligence and sprightliness, she would look pleased, but she was singularly undemonstrative ; and it is not strange that Mrs. Elliott, whose heart was always gushing forth in the warmest expressions of love to her child, should think Dilsy cold and unfeeling.

'' Do you love Jim ?" asked she of her one day.

" Yes, mistress. To be sure I does. He's my own child, and I'm obliged to love him."

" But you are not very fond of children, are you ?"

" I never cares about hugging and kissing ^em as some does. I thinks and feels though, and would do as much to keep harm from 'em, as anybody else."

This was a great deal for the quiet mulatto to say. She was that rare, and some believe fabulous character — a silent woman.

Spring, summer, and autumn glided away, and little Bessy frolicked with Jim about the beautiful green enclosure, the picture of rosy health, as she was of angel loveliness. Jim had grown wonderfully. He was stout, strong, and brave as a little lion, and as full of mischief and pranks as a monkey.' He could jabber and dance for the entertainment of Mrs. Elliott's guests, and cut more capers for the amusement of Bessy than necromancer ever taught.

Dilsy's mission was ended, for Bessy, as the cooler season advanced, was gradually withdrawn from her nursing cares. Mrs. Elliott, however, who had become attached to her, in spite of her cool, unimpassioned manners, gave her permission to remain in the chapel (as she always called the shade-embosomed cabin), and continue her usual occupations.

There was a young man of about twenty, whose father resided somewhere in the vicinity, but who was seldom seen at home. Indeed, he seemed to live on horseback, dashing about on a wild, 'black horse, that no one could venture to ride but himself. His name was John Grreen, but he was known only by the appellation of Wild Jack. Wherever he went the sound of clattering hoofs preceded him — a cloud of dust followed. " Get out of the way — Wild Jack's coming," was the cry of the children in the street, as they scampered towards the fence. In short, he was the wild huntsman of the country, and as he passed along, like a swift dark cloud, a thrill of admiration was always excited by his matchless horsemanship. It was said he lived by gambling, for he was never seen to work, yet the glitter of silver sparkled tlirough tlie meshes of his purse, and its clinking made constant music in the bar-room.

One evening, as Wild Jack was riding rather more slowly than usual along a back road that wound round the grounds of Mr. Elliott, he caught a glimpse of little Jim, perched on the top of the fence, laughing and clapping his hands, at the sight of the black steed, and its shining, flowing mane. Jack reined in his horse and rode directly up to the fence where the child was seated.

'* Here, jump on to my saddle, and I'll teach you how to ride, you little black rascal,'' exclaimed the horseman, leaning forward, seizing the child by the arm and swinging him in front of himself, as if he had no more weight than a feather.

"Me feard," said the child, shrinking from the fierce, bright eyes of Jack, that ran up and down his plump little body, like live balls. It was strange for him to express fear.

'' Yo2c afraid ! why I took you for a man. TU bring you back directly."

Away he flew, and little Jim forgot his terrors in the delight of motion, and the charm of novelty. Up hill and down hill they went, over fields and creeks, and it was not till the gray of evening began to darken the glow of sunset, that the little equestrian returned to the shades of the chapel. Pilsy stood at the fence calling her truant boy, whose absence she had just discovered.

" Here I be, mammy," cried little Jim in a tone of exultation, holding up a large paper of candy, with which the liberality of Wild Jack had supplied him.

" You've got the smartest little fellow here I ever saw," said Jack, giving the child a swing into his mother's arms. " I'm going to make a first-rate horseman of him. Don't you want to ride again, you young harlequin ?"

" Yes," answered the delighted child, sucking a long stick of red candy, the seal of his friendly compact with the formidable Jack.

Dilsy was flattered by his notice of her child, and when, evening after evening, he disappeared with the flying horseman, she quietly awaited his return, without any misgivings or apprehensions. As for little Jim, he conceived a most extraordinary and passionate love for Wild Jack. For hours before his coming, he would mount the fence and strain his eyeballs and bend his ear, for the dusty cloud and clattering hoofs he so much loved to greet. Dilsy became more and more reconciled to his new passion, as it kept him still several hours on the top of the fence^ instead of gamboling about in her way, as he formerly did.

Once Jim was gone longer than usual. It grew quite dark, and yet his little woolly head was not seen peeping in at the door, nor was his childish voice heard exclaiming as usual — 4 ^' Me come back, mammy.^^

f Dilsy had worked hard during the day, and was sitting by a warm, bright, lightwood fire. It had been a clear frosty day, and the contrast of the cold, bracing atmosphere abroad, and the glowing heat within, disposed her to a kind of luxurious drowsiness. The negro sleeps as comfortably and sweetly in a split-bottomed chair, as on a downy bed, and Dilsy closed her weary eyes, and slept in happy unconsciousness of the prolonged absence of her child.

That night, before Mrs. Elliott retired to rest, she stood by the couch of her sleeping infant, gazing with a mother's joy and gratitude on its round, roseate cheek, and white, dimpled arms. She compared its present appearance of health and strength with its former waxen paleness and extreme fragility, and her heart swelled with emotions of thankfulness to Dilsy, who had been the instrument, in the hands of God, of her darling's restoration.

''■ Look at her,'^ she cried, turning to her husband, while she shaded back the soft fl.axen hair from Bessy's snowy forehead. "■ How sweet, how placid, how well she looks ! That was a blessed day you brought Dilsy to me. Had it not been for her, I do not think Bessy could have survived the summer months. She really is a treasure. I feel as if I wanted to do something to prove my gratitude to her."

" Why, you are proving it all the time, my dear. Not a day passes that is not crowned by some act of loving kindness on your part, towards this clever mulatto. I am sure lier lines have fallen in pleasant places. You make almost as great a pet of Jim as you do of Bessy. Is that fine dress for him ?" pointing to a gay tunic of brilliant scarlet, trimmed rather fantastically with black.

" Yes. I long for the morrow to come, to see him dressed in this suit. The bright red will set off so well his jetty skin. I really think the boy is handsome — he is so black and shining and has such an intelligent, merry face. I always wondered his mother did not show more fondness for him — her only child, too. I do not think she has much sensibility, but a great deal of principle. '^

" All mothers are not as foolish as you are, my dear," said he with an affectionate smile ; and Mrs. Elliott felt, though he called her foolish, he did not condemn her folly. She fell asleep with the vision of little Jim, arrayed in his scarlet clothes, dancing before her eyes.

She was awakened by a cry so loud, so thrilling, that it seemed as if something sharp was stabbing her ears. It broke on the silence of night with terrible distinctness, and sounded like the wail of a breaking heart.

" Grood heavens !'^ exclaimed Mrs. Elliott, starting from her pillow, " what cry is that ? It is in our own yard."

Mr. Elliott sprang from the bed and hastily dressing himself opened the door, letting in as he did so a whole flood of moonlight. Mrs. Elliott rose also, trembling with terror, and wrapping herself in a large woollen shawl, followed her husband into the piazza. The cry arose again more distinctly. It came nearer, and the words —

" My child ! my child ! They've stolen my child !" were audible amid shrieks of agony.

" It's Dilsy !" cried Mrs. Elliott. " Oh ! husband, what is the matter ? See her — running up and down the yard. Call her, for mercy's sake^ and find what she means."

While she was speaking, Dilsy came rushing to the gate, looking like a distracted creature, with her hair loosely flying, tossing her arms wildly above her head.

" My child !" she shrieked. " Master — mistress — they've stole him. I never see him no more."

Here she wrung her hands, and, bursting afresh into an exceeding loud and bitter cry, was about to run off towards the street, when Mr. Elliott caught her by the arm and forced her into the house.

'' Let go !" she cried frantically. " Wild Jack's got him — he never brought him back — he never will bring him back again."

The truth flashed upon Mr. Elliott's mind. He had seen Jim before sunset, mounted in front of the Wild Huntsman, and from Dilsy's broken exclamations, he learned how long he had been gone, how she had awakened out of a long, deep sleep, seated by the cabin's hearth, and how she remembered waiting there for her boy, and wondering that he did not come. She sought him and called him, till she was hoarse — sought him in every nook and corner of the cabin, shaking the bed clothes as if he were a needle or a pin, that could be hidden in their seams — then seizing a torch, forgetful of the moonlight, and swinging it above her head, rushed to the * wood-pile, and hurled the sticks in the air, sometimes imagining the end of a blackened pine knot the head of her missing child. At length came the horrible conviction that he was stolen, carried ofF, to be sold to the slave-trader, and the cry ^ which had banished the slumbers of Mrs. Elliott, was wrung from a mother's breaking heart.

All that kindness and sympathy could do, was done by Mrs. ' Elliott, to soothe and comfort the poor, half-distracted Dilsy. The household was roused, a warm fire kindled, and warm covering wrapped round her chilled and shivering limbs. But Dilsy refused to be comforted. The sensibility that had been sleeping in the bottom of her heart, gushed out in an overwhelming stream. Nor was it sorrow alone that stirred the before unsounded depths of her soul. The thirst of vengeance mingled with the yearnings of affection, and infused wormwood and gall into the flowing brine. She threw herself on the , floor, and tore her long Indian tresses, calling on her Jim, her baby, her child, in the most piteous and heart-rending accents.

" I accused her of not feeling/' thought Mrs. Elliott, wiping away her own fast falling tears. " Ah ! how little we know of what is passing in the heart. Poor creature — what can I do to comfort her r"'

" I will go over this moment and see the President,'^ exclaimed Mr. Elliott. " The villain must be pursued and overtaken. Be quiet, Dilsy — you shall have your boy again — we'll see about it."

" Grod Almighty bless you, master — will you ? God bless you — will you, master ?" cried Dilsy, springing up from the floor and shaking back her dishevelled hair, her eyes glittering with excitement. " I thought nobody care for little negro — free, too. Oh, Lordy ! Jimmy — little Jimmy I S'pose he come back again V

Covering her face with her hands, she burst into an hysterical laugh, and picking up a white muslin apron of little Bessy's that had fallen upon the floor, began to wipe her eyes with it, without knowing what she was doing. In the mean time, Mr. Elliott, burning with indignation for the outrage on the poor mulatto, walked over, in the dead of nighi as it was, to the President's mansion, whicli was not far from his own. He was one of the Professors of the University, which was situated on the beautifal hill, near which he resided ; and when the President was roused from his slumbers by the voice of Mr. Elliott, he naturally concluded that the students had been detected in some midnight depredation. He was a man of surpassing benevolence of character, united to a stern and inflexible sense of justice. He entered warmly into Mr. Elliott's plans for the recovery of the child, and proposed that emissaries should be despatched on the three roads, which led from the hill, in pursuit of the robber and his prey, promising to bear his part of the expense, and pledging himself for the other members of the faculty. Early the next morning, three men, hired by the President and professors, started in three different directions, for the purpose of tracking the human bloodhound.

It has been said that self-interest alone prompts the white man to be kind to the negro race — that he feeds, and clothes, and warms him, because he is his own property, and he himself would suffer, if his slave were neglected or wronged. This may be the case in some instances, but it certainly was not in this. Here was a poor, humble, unprotected mulatto, a free woman, with a free child. She enriched no one, she belonged to no one ; her child was her own property, and its loss impoverished no one but herself. And yet, in defence of this woman's rights, for the recovery of her stolen boy, were enlisted the sympathies and influence of the dignified President of a celebrated University, and its intelligent and learned professors. Was this self-interest ? No, it was divine philanthropy ; it was the acknowledgment of that bond which unites the great brotherhood of mankind, and which is drawn closer and closer by misfortunes and wrongs. Dilsy and her child were of the lowly African race, and yet how many hearts were now throbbing in unison with hers ; how many prayers were ascending to heaven for the recovery of her child !

Part Second

** God help me, in my grievous need ; God help me, in my inward pain, Which cannot ask for pity's meed ; Which has no license to complain ; Which must be borne, yet who can bear Hours long, days long, a constant weight, The yoke of absolute despair, A suffering wholly desolate ?"

Two weary days passed away, and no tidings of the lost child. The wild agony of the mother had settled down into a kind of stupor, the result of despair. Mrs. Elliott kept her in the house, and, by giving little Bessy entirely to her charge, tried to interest her feelings and divert her attention from her own sorrows. She did this in kindness, but perhaps it was an error in judgment, for the sight of the beautiful child, blooming in the security of home, reminded her only more vividly of her own wandering boy. She would sit for hours, gazing with a dull, vague look, on the little scarlet dress, so fancifully margined with jetty braid, hanging conspicuously on the wall.

" Some how or other, mistress/' she said mournfully, " that looks just like Jim's shroud. To look at it long, it turns all over black."

" You will see little Jimmy wear it before long," replied Mrs. Elliott, kindly. " When so many are interested in his recovery, it is almost impossible that he should not be found."

" Oh, mistress, that black horse goes like the wind. Nobody could catch him. 'Taint like other horses. O dear ! 0 Lord ! how I wish I'd never let Jimmy get up with that awful man."

The second night one of the men returned, weary, and unsuccessful. He had perceived no trace of the fugitives, and, convinced they must have taken some other route, thought it best to return. The next morning the other two also came back, but without the child. One of them, however, imparted information of great interest. He had followed in the track of a young man, mounted on a fiery black horse, who had been seen at early dawn, riding along, with a little child before liim. The description corresponded exactly to Wild Jack, and the man was sure of overtaking the robber, but he soon came where four roads met, and knew not which way to turn. In his perplexity, he suffered one of the superstitions of his childhood to guide him, and he directed his course to the rising sun. In the course of the day he heard of a slave-trader, who had passed that way with a large number of slaves, and among them was a little boy, of the age of Jim, who was represented, like him, to be black as polished ebony. There was no doubt that Wild Jack had had an understanding with the man, and sold to him the stolen child.

The emissary, who was not a bold man, thought not of contending with one of these desperate characters, but immediately turned his face homeward, to communicate the facts which had come to his knowledge.

Dark were the clouds that now gathered round the fate of little Jim. While the man was returning, he was borne still further from them, on a wild, unfrequented road, and perhaps even then he was transferred to some other master, who might be bearing him away on the wings of the morning.

Mr. Elliott sat with the President in his office, with an anxious and troubled countenance. While they were engaged in earnest conversation on the subject, the door opened, and Mr. G-reen, the father of Wild Jack, was announced.

He was a meek, sorrowful-looking man, with a stooping frame and downcast countenance. One might look in vain in his pale, dim eyes, thin cheeks, and melancholy mouth, for any resemblance to the bright, fierce, wicked face of Wild Jack.

There was something in his appearance that appealed irresistibly to the compassionate feelings of the gentlemen; and the President, moved by commiseration, as well as by habitual politeness, addressed him kindly, and offered him a seat, by the ample and blazing fire. But he would not be seated. He stood with his hat crushed between his knees, with an expression of conscious unworthiness, and the worn and crushed hat seemed a meet emblem of his crushed and grief-worn heart. The father of a wicked, law-defying son,, whom he had in vain endeavoured to '' train up in the way he should go,^' must feel abject and wretched.

"Are there any tidings of your son, sir?" asked the President, breaking the silence, which began to be irksome.

"I've heard of the lost child, sir," he replied meekly,

" and I've come to tell you that if you'll stop the search after him, he shall be brought back day after to-morrow nigbt. Yes, sir, I'll swear oa the Bible, if you say so, that what I say is the truth."

The gentlemen looked at each other in surprise. They knew but little of Mr. Grreen, and, judging of him by the character of his son, as people are apt to do, imagined him to be a man with very dim perceptions of right and wrong. He was considered a poor man, owning a small farm and a few negroes, whose work he shared while he superintended their labours. Jack was his only son, whose birth and his mother's death were simultaneous events. Poor Jack ! had he ever known a mother's restraining influence and tender watchfulness, his evil propensities would never have acquired their present rank and poisonous luxuriance.

" This is very strange," said the President, fixing his eyes sternly on his agitated and working features. " Am I to consider you an accomplice with your son in this felonious act V

The poor man looked up to heaven with an humble, deprecatino; air, and the President felt somethinfy knockins; against his heart, painfully and reproachfully. He had no son of his own, but he could comprehend what were a father's feelings, and he knew those of a man.

"I didn't c-ome here to criminate or defend myself, sir; neither did I come to defend my son. It wouldn't do any good, if I did, for you all know him. I don't pretend to deny that he's carried oflF the child. I know if he's taken, his life will be forfeited. But I don't think he can be. He's got a way that nobody ever had before. I sometimes think an evil spirit is in him — but he is my son, for all that — all that I've got in the world. He's bone of my bone, and flesh of my flesh, given me by his mother, now in heaven. You can't catch Jack, but you can keep him from coming near me as long as I live. You will advertise him and set a price on his head, and it will be all right,"

" To be sure, it will," interrupted the President emphatically, and Mr. Elliott's clear eye pronounced amen.

'-'■ You can do it," continued Mr. G-reen, " but with all that, it is very doubtful whether you ever see him or the boy either. But I promise you solemnly, gentlemen, if you'll all keep quiet and say nothing, that day after to morrow night, at about midnight, the child shall be in front of Mr. Porter's tavern. If lie's not there, you may take me, put me in jail, and hang me in place of my son/'

There was an air of such earnestness and sincerity about the man, combined with such profound melancholy, that they were both deeply impressed. They were beginning to be convinced of the hopelessness of pursuit, and were ready to listen to any proposition which reason might sanction and justice approve.

'' If we put faith in your promises and suspend our present efforts," said the President, whose inflexible justice upbraided him for a too easy surrender of his judgment, "and your son should appear again in our midst, we cannot suffer so dangerous an individual to be at large. The law must claim its due."

" He never shall appear among you. He never again shall disturb the peace of this community. We will both seek a home remote from this, where, I trust, he will begin a new and better life."