So you imagine someone is going to save you. Well, who will it be?
Those yokels down at the Landing? Haines, the lawyer? You have a surprise up your sleeve for me, I suppose! h.e.l.l! it makes me laugh; but you might as well have your lesson now, as any other time. Come here, you wench!"
He caught her arm this time, brutally jerking her toward him, but as instantly staggered backward, grasping at the table, the flash of anger in his eyes changing to a look of startled surprise. A pistol was leveled full in his face, the polished black barrel shining ominously in the light of the overhead lamp.
"Now perhaps you know what I mean," she said. "If you dare to touch me I will kill you like a dog. That is no threat; it is true as G.o.d"s gospel," and the very tone of her voice carried conviction. "You say I am a slave--your slave! That may be so, but you will never possess me--never! Life means nothing to me any more, and I never expect to go out of this house alive; I do not even care to. So I am not afraid of you. Do you know why? Probably not, for men of your kind would be unable to understand. It is because I would rather die than have your dirty hand touch me--a thousand times rather. Do not drop your arms, you low-lived cur, for you have never been nearer death in all your miserable life than you are now. G.o.d knows I want to kill you; it is the one desire of my heart at this moment to rid the earth of such a beast. But I"ll give you one chance--just one. Don"t you dare call out, or answer me. Do what I say. Now step back--back along the table; that"s it, a step at a time. Oh, I knew you were a cowardly bully. Go on--yes, clear to that window; don"t lower those hands an inch until I say you may. I am a slave--yes, but I am also a Beaucaire. Now reach behind you, and pull up the sash--pull it up higher than that."
Her eyes dilated with sudden astonishment and terror. She had caught sight of me, emerging from the black shadow just behind her victim.
Kirby also perceived the quick change in the face fronting him, read its expression of fright, and sought to twist his head so as to learn the truth. Yet before he could accomplish this, or his lips could give utterance to a sound, my hands closed on his throat, crushing him down to the sill, and throttling him into silence between the vise of my fingers.
CHAPTER XI
TO SAVE A "n.i.g.g.e.r"
It proved to be a short, sharp struggle, from the first the advantage altogether with me. Kirby, jerked from off his feet from behind, his head forced down against the wooden sill, with throat gripped remorselessly in my clutch, could give utterance to no outcry, nor effectively exert his strength to break free. I throttled the very breath out of him, knowing that I must conquer then and there, silently, and with no thought of mercy. I was battling for her life, and my own. This was no time for compa.s.sion, nor had I the slightest wish to spare the man. With all the oldtime dislike in my heart, all the hatred aroused by what I had overheard, I closed down on his throat, rejoicing to see the purple of his flesh turn into a sickening black, as he fought desperately for breath, and as he lost consciousness, and ceased from struggle. I was conscious of a pang in my wounded shoulder, yet it seemed to rob me of no strength, but only added to my ferocity. The fellow rested limp in my hands. I believed I had killed him, and the belief was a joy, as I tossed the helpless body aside on the floor, and stepped through the open window into the room. Dead! he was better off dead.
I stood above him, staring down into the upturned face. It was breathless, mottled, hideously ugly, to all appearances the face of a dead man, but it brought to me no sense of remorse. The cur--"the unspeakable cur." In my heart I hoped he was dead, and in a sudden feeling of utter contempt, I struck the inert body with my foot. Then, as my eyes lifted, they encountered those of the girl. She had drawn back to the table, startled out of all reserve by this sudden apparition, unable to comprehend. Doubt, questioning, fright found expression in her face. The pistol yet remained clasped in her hand, while she stared at me as though a ghost confronted her.
"Who--who are you?" she managed to gasp, in a voice which barely reached my ears. "My G.o.d! who--who sent you here?"
"It must have been G.o.d," I answered, realizing instantly that I needed to make all clear in a word. "I came only to help you, and was just in time--no doubt G.o.d sent me."
"To help me? You came here to help me? But how could that be? I--I never saw you before--who are you?"
I stood straight before her, my eyes meeting her own frankly. I had forgotten the dead body at my feet, the incidents of struggle, the pain of my own wound, comprehending only the supreme importance of compelling her to grasp the truth.
"There is no time now to explain all this, Miss Rene. You must accept the bare facts--will you?"
"Yes--I--I suppose I must."
"Then listen, for you must know that every moment we waste here in talk only makes escape more difficult. I tell you the simple truth. I am Steven Knox, an officer in the army. It chanced I was a pa.s.senger on the boat when Judge Beaucaire lost his life. I witnessed the game of cards this man won, and afterwards, when I protested, was attacked, and flung overboard into the river by Kirby here, and that fellow who is outside guarding the door. They believe me to be dead; but I managed to reach sh.o.r.e, and was taken care of by a negro--"Free Pete" he calls himself; do you know him?"
"Yes--oh, yes; he was one of the Carlton slaves." Her face brightened slightly in its bewilderment.
"Well, I knew enough of what was bound to occur to feel an interest, and tonight he brought me here for the purpose of warning you--you, your mother, and Eloise Beaucaire. He has his cart and mule out yonder; we intended to transport you across the river, and thus start you safely on the way to Canada."
"Then," she said slowly, seeming to catch at her breath, her voice trembling, "then it must be really true what these men say--Delia is my mother? I--I am a slave?"
"You did not really know. You were not warned by anyone before their arrival?"
"No, there was no warning. Did anyone in this neighborhood understand?"
"Haines the lawyer did. He furnished me with much of the information I possess. But I am the one puzzled now. If the truth was not known to any of you, how does it happen the others are gone?"
"So far as I am aware that is merely an accident. They walked over to the old Carlton place early this evening; there is sickness in the family, and they hoped to be of help. That is everything I know. They were to return two hours ago, for I was here all alone, except for the negroes in their quarters. I cannot conceive what has occurred--unless they have learned in some way of the trouble here."
"That must be the explanation; they have hidden themselves. And these men told you why they came?"
"The only one I saw at first did. He came in all alone and claimed to be a deputy sheriff. I was terribly frightened at first, and did not at all understand; but I questioned him and the man liked to talk. So he told me all he knew. Perhaps I should have thought he was crazy, only--only some things had occurred of late which led me to half suspect the truth before. I--I wouldn"t believe it then, but--but I made him repeat everything he had heard. Horrible as it was, I--I wanted to know all."
"And you acknowledged to him that you were Rene Beaucaire?"
Her dark eyes flashed up into my face questioningly.
"Why--why, of course. I--I could not deny that, could I?"
"Perhaps not; yet if none of them knew you, and you had claimed to be Eloise, they would never have dared to hold you prisoner."
"I never once thought of that; the only thing which occurred to me was how I could best protect the others. My plan was to send them warning in some way. Still, now I am very glad I said I was Rene."
"Glad! why?"
"Because it seems it is Eloise they must find to serve their papers on.
They dare not take away the slaves until this is done. As for me, I am nothing--nothing but a slave myself; is that not true?"
To look into her eyes, her face, and answer was a hard task, yet one I saw no way to evade.
"Yes; I am afraid it is true."
"And--and then Delia, the housekeeper, is actually my mother?"
"That is the story, as it has reached me."
She held tightly to the table for support, all the fresh color deserting her face, but the lips were firmly set and her head remained as proudly poised as ever above the round throat. Whatever might be the stain of alien blood in her veins, she was still a Beaucaire. Her eyes, filled with pain as they were, met mine unflinchingly.
"And--and knowing all this, convinced of its truth--that--that I am colored," she faltered, doubtfully. "You came here to help me?"
"I did; that can make no difference now."
"No difference! Why do you say that? Are you from the North, an Abolitionist?"
"No; at least I have never been called one or so thought of myself. I have never believed in slavery, yet I was born in a southern state. In this case I merely look upon you as a woman--as one of my own cla.s.s.
It--it does not seem as though I could ever consider you in any other way. You must believe this."
"Believe it! Why you and I are caught in the same net. I am a slave to be sold to the highest bidder; and you--you have killed a man to save me. Even if I was willing to remain and face my fate, I could not now, for that would mean you must suffer. And--and you have done this for me."
My eyes dropped to the upturned face of Kirby on which the rays of light rested. The flesh was no longer black and horrid, yet remained ghastly enough to increase my belief that the man was actually dead--had perished under my hand. He was not a pleasant sight to contemplate, flung as he had been in a shapeless heap, and the sight brought home to me anew the necessity of escape before those others of his party could learn what had occurred.
"From whatever reason the deed was done," I said, steadying my voice, "we must now face the consequences. As you say, it is true we both alike have reason to fear the law if caught. Flight is our only recourse. Will you go with me? Will you trust me?"
"Go--go with you? Where?"
"First across the river into Illinois; there is no possible safety here. Once over yonder we shall, at least, have time in which to think out the proper course, to plan what shall be best to do. In a way your danger is even more serious than mine. I have not been seen--even Kirby had no glimpse of my face--and might never be identified with the death of this man. But you will become a fugitive slave and could be hunted down anywhere this side of Canada."
"Then being with me would add to your danger."
"Whether it will or not counts nothing; I shall never let you go alone."