CHAPTER XVI.
BELL-CROWN MAN.
As the Judge and Phoebus had turned the corner of the bank Samson Hatappeared, driving down Princess Anne's broad main street a young whitegirl.
"There's the nigger that set my peep in limbo," muttered the negrodealer, "but even he shall go past to-day. This accursed town is packedagin me."
He took a long look at Samson, however, who mildly returned it in themost respectful manner, as if he had never seen the strange gentlemanbefore. "And now, my pals," Joe Johnson said, turning to Levin Dennisand Jack Wonnell, "we will all three go down to the bay and I'll pervidethe lush, and pay the soap while you ketch the tarrapin, an' let mesleep my nazy off."
"I'll go an' no mistake!" cried Jack Wonnell, who had been taking adrink of pump-water out of his bell-crown. "So will you, Levin."
Levin Dennis hesitated; "I want to tell my mother first," he said,"maybe she won't like me fur to go of a Sunday. She'll send JimmyPhoebus after me."
Joe Johnson took a bag of gold from inside his waist-band, hanging by aloop there, and held up a piece of five before the boy's bright eyes:
"Yer, kid! That's yourn if you don't have no mother about it. Pike awaywith me, pig widgeon, an' find your boat, and I pay you this pash atsundown."
Levin's credulous eyes shone, and with one reluctant look towards hismother's cottage he led the way into the country.
Little was said as they walked an hour or more towards the west, thestranger apparently brooding upon his indignities, and twice passingaround the jug of brandy which Jack Wonnell was made to carry, andbefore noon they came to a considerable creek, out in which was anchoreda small vessel bearing on her stern in illiterate, often inverted,letters the name: _Ellenora Dennis_.
"What's that glibe on yonder?" asked Johnson, pointing to the letters.
"That's his mother's name, boss," Jack Wonnell said, hitching at thestranger's breeches, "she's a widder, an' purty as a peach."
"Ain't you got no daddy, pore pap-lap?" Johnson asked coarsely.
"He's gone sence I was a baby," Levin answered; "he went on JudgeCustis's uncle's privateer that never was heard of no mo'. We don't knowif the British tuk him an' hanged him, or if the _Idy_ sunk somewhairan' drowned him, or if she's a-sailin' away off. I has to take care ofmother."
"Humph!" growled Joe Johnson; "son of a gander and a gilflirt: purtykid, too--got the ole families into him. No better loll for me!"
Drawing a punt concealed under some marsh brush, young Levin pushed offto his vessel, made her tidy by a few changes, pulled up the jib, andbrought her in to the bank.
"Mr. Johnson, I never ketched tarrapin of a Sunday befo', but I reckontain't no harm."
"Harm? what's that?" Joe Johnson sneered. "Hark ye, boy, no funking withme now! When I begin with a kinchin cove I starts squar. If ye thinkit's wicked to ketch tarrapin, why, I want 'em caught. If you _don't_keer, you kin jest stick up yer sail an' pint for Deil's Island, an'we'll make it a woyige!"
Not quite clear as to his instructions, Levin took the tiller, and JackWonnell superserviceably got the terrapin tongs, and stood in the bowwhile the cat-boat skimmed down Monie Creek before a good breeze and alee tide. The chain dredge for terrapin was thrown over the side, butthe boat made too much sail for Wonnell to take more than one or twotardy animals with his tongs, as they hovered around the transparentbottoms making ready for their winter descent into the mud.
"Take up your dredge," Johnson commanded in a few minutes. "It makes usgo slow."
Jack Wonnell obediently made a few turns on the windlass, and as the bagcame up, two terrapin of the then common diamond-back variety rolled onthe deck, and a skilpot.
"That's enough tarrapins," Johnson said, "unless you're afraid it'sdoin' wrong, Levin. Say, spooney! is it wicked now?"
The boy laughed, a little pale of face, and Johnson closed his remarkwith:
"Nawthin' ain't wicked! Sunday is dustman's day to be broke by heroes.D'ye s'pose yer daddy on the privateer wouldn't lick the British of aSunday? The way to git rich, sonny, is to break all the commandments atthe post, an' pick 'em up agin at the score!"
"That's the way, sho' as you're born. Whoop! Johnson, you got it right!"chuckled Jack Wonnell, not clear as to what was said.
Levin Dennis felt a little shudder pass through him, but he gave thestranger the helm, and by Wonnell's aid raised the main-sheet, and thelight boat went winging across Monie Bay, starting the water-fowl as ittacked through them.
"Here's another swig all round," Joe Johnson exclaimed, "and then I'llgo below to lollop an hour, for I'm bloody lush."
Levin drank again, and it took the shuddering instinct out of him, andJoe Johnson cried, as he disappeared into the little cabin:
"Ree-collect! You pint her for Deil's Island thoroughfare, and wake me,pals, at the old camp-ground, fur to dine."
The two Princess Anne neighbors felt relieved of the long man's company,and Jack Wonnell lay on his back astern and grinned at Levin as if therewas a great unknown joke or coincidence between them, finallywhispering:
"Where does he git all his gold?"
Levin shook his head:
"Can't tell, Jack, to save my life. Nigger tradin', I reckon. It must bepayin' business, Jack."
"Best business in the world. Wish I had a little of his money, Levin.Hu-ue-oo!" giving a low shout, "then wouldn't I git my gal!"
"Who's yo' gal, Jack, for this winter?"
"You won't tell nobody, Levin?"
"No, hope I may die!"
Jack put his bell-crown up to the side of his mouth, executed anothergrin, winked one eye knowingly, and whispered:
"Purty yaller Roxy, Jedge Custis's gal."
"She won't have nothin' to do with you, Jack; she's too well raised."
"She ain't had yit, Levin, but I'm follerin' of her aroun'. There ain'tno white gal in Princess Anne purty as them two house gals of JedgeCustis's."
"Well, what kin you do with a nigger, Jack? You never kin marry her."
"Maybe I kin buy her, Levin."
"She ain't fur sale, Jack. Jedge Custis never sells no niggers. Youcan't buy a nigger to save your life. When some of Jedge Custis'sniggers in Accomac run away he wouldn't let people hunt for 'em."
Jack Wonnell put his bell-crown to the side of his mouth again, grinnedhideously, and whispered:
"Kin you keep a secret?"
Levin nodded, yes.
"Hope a may die?"
"Hope I may die, Jack."'
"Jedge Custis is gwyn to be sold out by Meshach Milburn."
"What a lie, Jack!"
Levin let the tiller half go, and the _Ellenora Dennis_ swung round andflapped her sails as if such news had driven all the wind out of them.
"Jack," Levin exclaimed, "Jimmy Phoebus says you've turned out areg'lar liar. Now I believe it, too."
"Hope I may die!" Jack Wonnell protested, "I never does lie: it's toohard to find lies for things when people comes an' tells you, or you kinsee fur yourseff. Jimmy called me a liar fur sayin' Meshach Milburn wasgone into the Jedge's front do', but we saw him come out of it, didn'twe?"
"Yes, that was so; but this yer one is an awful lie."
"Well, Levin, purty yaller Roxy, she told me, an' she's too purty totell lies. I loves that gal like peach-an'-honey, Levin, an' I don'tkeer whether she's white or no. She's mos' as white as me, an' a gooddeal better."
"So you do talk to Roxy some?"
"Levin, I'll tell you all about it, an' you won't tell nobody. Well, Ipicks magnoleys an' wild roses an' sich purty things fur Roxy to giveher missis, an' Roxy gives me cake, an' chicken, an' coffee at the backdoor, knowin' I ain't got much to buy 'em with. Lord bless her! shedon't half know I don't think as much of them cakes an' snacks an' warmrich coffee, as I do of her purty eyes. She's a white angel with alittle coffee in her blood, but it's ole Goverment Javey an' more thanhalf cream!"
Here Levin laughed loudly, and said that Jack must have learned that outof a book.
"Oh,"
said Jack, shutting one eye hard and joining in the grin, "sence Iben in love I kin say lots o' smart things like that. I have seen purtylittle Roxy grow up from a chile, an' as she begin to round up and gittall, says I: 'Nigger or no nigger, she's angel!' The white gals theyall throwed off on me, caze I wasn't earnin' nothin', an' I sot my eyeson Roxy Custis an' I says: 'What kin I do fur to make her shine to me?'So I kept a-follerin' of her everywhere, an' I see her one day comin'along the road a-pickin' of the wild blossoms an' with her han' full of'em, an' I says: 'Roxy, what you doin' of with them flowers?' 'They'refur my missis, Miss Vesty,' says she; 'she lives on wild flowers, an'they're all I has to give her, an' I want her to love me as much asVirgie.' You see Levin, the t'other gal, Virgie, waits on Miss Custis,an' Roxy she was a little jealous. Then I says: 'Roxy, I kin git youflowers for your missis. I know whair the magnoleys is bloomin' thewhitest an' a-scentin' the whole day long.' 'Do you?' says she, 'Oh,Mr. Wonnell, I would like to have a bunch of magnoleys to put on MissVesty's toilet every day.' 'I'll git 'em fur you, Roxy,' says I, 'becazeI allus thought you was a little beauty.' Says she: 'I'd give mostanything to surprise Miss Vesty with flowers every day,--rale wildones!' 'Then,' says I, 'Roxy, I'll git' em fur you for a kiss!' An' shemost a-blushed blood-red an' ran away."
"That's what I told you, Jack, she's raised too well to be talkin' towhite fellers."
"Nobody's raised too well," rejoined Jack Wonnell, "to be deef to loveand kindness. Says I to myself: 'Jack, you skeert that gal. Now saynothin' mo' about the kiss, an' go git her the flowers every day, an'she'll think mo' of you!' So away I went to King's Creek an' pulled themagnoleys, an' I come to the do' an' asked ole Hominy to bring down Roxyfor a minute. Roxy she come, an' was gwyn to run away till she saw myflowers, an' she stopped a minute an' says I: 'I jest got 'em for you,Roxy, becaze I see you when you was a little chile.' She tuk 'em an'says: 'It was very kind of you, sir,' an' kercheyed an' melted away.Next day I was thar agin, Levin, an' I says, to make it seem like atrade: 'Roxy, kin ye give me a cup of coffee?' 'Law, yes!' she says,forgittin' her blushin' right away. So I kept shady on love an' put iton the groun's of coffee, an', Levin, I everlastin'ly fotched the wildflowers till that gal got to be a-lookin' fur me at the do' every day,an' I'd hide an' see her come to the window an' peep fur me. One day shesays, as I was drinkin' of the coffee: 'Mr. Wonnell, what do you putyourself at sech pains fur to 'blige a pore slave girl that ain't buthalf white?' I thought a minute, so as to say something that wouldn'tskeer her off, an' I says: 'Roxy, it's becaze I'm sech a pore, worthlessfeller that the white gals won't look at me!' The tears come right toher eyes, an' she says: 'Mr. Wonnell, if I was white I would look atyou.' 'I believe you would,' says I, 'becaze you've got a white heart,Roxy.'"
"Jack, you're a dog-gone smart lover," said Levin. "I didn't think youhad no kind of sense."
"Love-makin' is the best sense of all," said Jack, "it's that sense thatkeeps the woods a-full of music, where the birds an' bees is twitterin'and hummin' an' a-matin'. Love is the last sense to come, after you cansee, an' hear, an' feel, an' they're give to people to find outsomething purty to love. Love was the whole day's work in the garding ofEden befo' man got too industrious, an' it's all the work I do, an' Ihope I do it well."
"Now what did Roxy tell you about Meshach Milburn and Judge Custis?"
"You see, Levin, as I kept up the flower-givin', I could see a littlelove start up in purty Roxy, but she didn't understand it, an' I was askeerful not to skeer it as if it had been a snow-bird hoppin' to a crumbof bread. She would talk to me about her little troubles, an' I listenedkeerful as her mammy, becaze little things is what wimmin lives on, an'a lady's man is only a feller patient with their little talk. The more Ilistened the more she liked to tell me, an' I saw that Roxy wasa-thinkin' a great deal of me, Levin, without she or me lettin' of iton.
"This mornin' she came to the door with her eyes jest wiped froma-cryin'. Says I, 'Roxy, little dear, what ails you?' 'Oh, nothin','says she, 'I can't tell you if thair is.' 'Here's your wild flowers forMiss Vesty,' says I, 'beautiful to see!' 'Oh,' says Roxy, 'Miss Vestywon't need 'em now.' Says I: 'Roxy, air you goin' to have all thattrouble on your mind an' not let me carry some of it?' 'Oh, my friend,'she says, 'I must tell you, fur you have been so kind to me: don'twhisper it! But my master is in debt to Meshach Milburn, an' _he's_married Miss Vesty, an' we think we're all gwyn to be sold or made tolive with that man that wears the bad man's hat.' Says I: 'Roxy,darling, maybe I kin buy you.' 'Oh, I wish you was my master,' Roxysaid. An' jest at that minute, love bein' oncommon strong over me thismornin', I took the first kiss from Roxy's mouth, an' she didn't saynothin' agin it."
Here Jack Wonnell kissed the atmosphere several times with deep unction,and ended by a low whoop and whistle, and looked at Levin Dennis withone eye shut, as if to get Levin's opinion of all this.
"Well," Levin said, "I never ain't been in love yet. I 'spect I ought tobe. But mother is all I kin take keer of, and, pore soul! she's in somuch trouble over me that she can't love nobody else. I git drunk, an'go off sailin' so long, an' spend my money so keerless, that if the Lorddidn't look out for her maybe she'd starve."
"Yes, Levin, you likes brandy as much as I likes the gals. You go offfor tarrapin, an' taters, an' oysters, an' peddles 'em aroun' PrencessAnne, an' then somebody pulls you in the grog-shops an' away goes yourmoney, an' your mother ain't got no tea and coffee."
"Jack," said Levin, abruptly, "do you believe in ghosts?"
"I don't know, Levin. If I saw one maybe I would, but I'm too trashy forghosts to see me."
"Well, now," Levin said, "there's a ghost, or something, that looks outfor mother when I'm drunk or gone, an' it leaves tea and coffee in thewindow for her."
"Sho'! why, Levin, that's Jimmy Phoebus! He's ben in love with yourmother for years an' she won't have him, but he keep's a hangin' on.He's your mother's ghost."
"No, Jack. I thought it was till Jimmy come to me an' asked me who Iguessed it was. He was a little jealous, I reckon. I said: 'It's you,of course, Jimmy!' 'No,' says he, 'by smoke! I don't do any hokey-pokeylike that. What I give, I go and give with no sneakin' about it orprying into Ellanory's poverty.' He was right down mad, but he couldn'tfind nothing out. So I think it may be the ghost of father, drowned atsea, bringing tea and coffee, and sometimes a dress, and a pair ofshoes, too, to keep mother warm."
Levin Dennis, standing against the tiller, seemed to Jack Wonnell to befair and spiritual as a woman, as his comely brow and large eyes grewserious with this relation of his father's mysterious fate. His darkauburn hair, in short ringlets parted in the middle, gave his sunburntcountenance a likeness to some of the old gentle families with which hewas allied, his father having been a son of younger sons, in a date whenprimogeniture prevailed in all this bay region; and therefore,possessing nothing, he went into the war against England as a sailor,and his family influence obtained for him command of the new privateerlaunched on the Manokin, the _Ida_, which set sail with a good crew andsuperior armament, amid the acclaims of all Somerset, and, sailing pastthe Capes into the ocean with all her bunting flying, slid down thefarther world to everlasting silence and the vapors of mystery.
His widow waited long and patiently with this only boy, Levin, ascarcely lisping child, and stories of every kind were current; that thecaptain had been captured and hanged by the enemy, and the ship burnedor condemned; that he had hoisted the black flag and become a pirate andquit the western world for the East India waters; and finally, that the_Ida_ foundered off Guiana and every soul was drowned.
The widow, a beautiful woman, neglected by her husband's connection, whowere sullen at the loss of their investment and their expected profitsfrom the vessel, lived in the little house she had owned before hermarriage, and sank into the plainer class of people, almost losing heridentity with the ruling families to which her son was kin, but in herhumbler class highly respected and solicited in marriage.
She was still young and fair, and Jimmy Phoebus, a hale bache
lor, andcaptain of a trading schooner, had endeavored to marry her for years,and held on to his hope patiently, exercising many kind offices for her,though his means were limited, and he had poor kin looking to him forhelp. She feared the absent lover might be alive and return to find heranother's wife.
So her son, growing up without a father's discipline, and being toorespectable, it was supposed, to put to a trade or be indentured, livedby fugitive pursuits on land and water, hauling and peddling vegetablesand provisions at times; and now, by the gift of Jimmy Phoebus, hesailed his little sloop or cat-boat chiefly to carry terrapin toBaltimore. Rough sailor acquaintances, exposure, a credulous, easily lednature, and almost total neglect of school at a time when education wasa high privilege, had made him wayward and often intemperate, butwithout developing any selfish or cruel characteristics, and being of anagreeable exterior and affable disposition, he fell a prey to anystrangers who might be in town--gunners, negro buyers, idle planters,and spreeing overseers, many of whom hired his company and vessel totake their excursions; and, while loving his mother, and being her onlyreliance, she saw him slipping further and further into manhood withoutsteadiness or education or fixed principles, or any female influence todraw him to domestic constraints.
His slender, supple figure, and marks of gentility in his limbs, andshapely brow and large, gentle eyes, poorly consorted with raggedclothes, bare feet, and absolute dependence on chance employment, thelatter becoming more precarious as his age and stature made moredemands for money through his false appetites.
"Jack," said Levin Dennis, "what do you mean by gittin' money to buyRoxy Custis? You never git no money."
"Won't he give it to me? Him?" Jack Wonnell indicated the hatchway downwhich Joe Johnson had gone. "He's got bags of it."
"Him? Why, Jack, how much money do you s'pose a beautiful servant likeRoxy will fetch?"
"Won't that piece _he's_ gwyn to give you buy her?"
"Five dollars? Why, you poor fool, she will bring five hundreddollars--maybe thousands. This nigger trader, with all his gold, wouldbe hard pushed, I 'spect, to buy Roxy."
Jack looked downcast, and failed to wink or whistle.
"Gals like her," said Levin, "goes for mistresses to rich men, an'sometimes they eddicates 'em, I've hearn tell, to know music, an'writin', an' grammar, an' them things."
"And a pore man who wouldn't abuse a gal most white like that, but wouldrespect her an' marry her, too, Levin, they makes laws agin him! Maybe Ikin steal Roxy?"
Here Jack whistled low, shut one eye with deep knowingness, and grinnedbehind his bell-crown.
"Oh, you simpleton!" Levin said. "Where could you take her to?"
"Pennsylvany, Cannydy, Turkey, or some of them Abolition states upthar"--Jack Wonnell indicated the North with his finger. "Ain't there noplace where a white man kin treat a bright-skinned slave like that as ifthey both was a Christian?"
"No," answered Levin, "not in this world."
The hero of the bell-crowns was much affected, and Levin thought hereally was whimpering, though his vacant grin was a poor frame forgrief.
"Jack," said Levin, "if what Roxy Custis told is true, the gal is theslave of your pertickler enemy, Meshach Milburn."
The wearer of the rival species of hat was "badly sobered," as Levinmentally expressed it, at this dismal solution of his gentle dreams oflove. He arose and walked to the bow of the boat, and looked down intothe flying waves over which the cat-boat skipped, as if he might seekthe solution of his own disconnected yet harmless life in the bottom ofthe sound, among the oyster rocks.
The water was now speckled with canoes and periaugers (pirogues), andlittle sail-boats coming from Deil's Island preaching, and before themrose out of the bay the low woody islands and capes which, with whitestraits between, enclose from the long blue nave of the Chesapeake thescalloped aisle called Tangier Sound. Like pigeons and wrens around somecathedral, the wild-fowl flew in these involuted, almost fantastic,architectures of archipelago and peninsula, which, lying flat to thewater, yet took ragged perspective there, as if some Gothic builder hadlaid his foundations, but had not bent the tall pines together, thatgrew above in palm-like groves, to make the groined roofs and arches ofhis design.
Here could be seen the ospreys, sailing in graceful pairs above theherrings' or the old wives' shoals, taking with elegance andconscientiousness the daily animal food that even man demands, with allhis sentiments and gospels. There the canvas-back duck, in a littleflock, broke the Sabbath to dive for the wild celery that grows beneaththe sound. In yonder tree the bald eagle was starting out upon hisAlgerine work of vehemence and piety, to intercept the hawk and stealhis cargo. The wild swan might be those faint, far birds flying so highover Kedge's Straits, in the south, and the black loon, spreading hiswings like a demon, disappears close to the cat-boat, and rises no moretill memory has forgotten him.
Levin Dennis steered close to a point where he had been wont to scatterfood for the black ducks, and draw them to the gunner's ambush.Sheldrakes and goosanders, coots and gulls, whifflers and dippers, madethe best of Sunday, and bathed and wrote their winged penmanship on thewhite sheet of water.
Poor Jack Wonnell returning, with something on his face between a grinand a tear, said:
"Levin, didn't I never harm nobody?"
"Not as I ever heard about, Jack. They say you ain't got no sense, butyou never fight nobody. Everybody kin git along with you, Jack!"
"No they can't, Levin. Meshach Milburn hates the ground I tread on. Ifhe know'd I was in love with little Roxy he'd marry her to a nigger."
"What makes him hate you so, Jack?"
"Becaze I wears my bell-crowns, and he wears the steeple-top hat. Hethinks I'm a-mockin' of him. Levin, I ain't got no other kind of hat towear. Meshach Milburn needn't wear that air hat, but if I don't wear abell-crown I must go bareheaded. I bought that lot of hats with the onlydollar or two I ever had, as they say a fool an' his money is soonparted. The boys said they was dirt cheap. Now there wouldn't be nothin'to see wrong in my bell-crowns, ef all the people wasn't pintin' at oleMilburn's Entail Hat, as they call it. Why can't he, rich as a Jew, gobuy a new hat, or buy me one? I don't want to mock him. I'm afeard ofhim! He looks at me with them loaded pistols of eyes an' it mos' makesme cry, becaze I ain't done nothin'. I'm as pore as them trash ducks,"pointing to a brace of dippers, which were of no value in the market,"but I ain't got no malice."
"No, Jack. That trader could give you that bag of gold to keep and itwould be safe, becaze it wasn't your own."
"I 'spect I will have to go to the pore-house some day, Levin; my oleaunt, who takes keer of me, can't live long, an' I ain't good furnothin'. I can't git no jobs and I run arrands for everybody furnothin', but the first money I git I'm gwyn to buy a new hat with. Eversence I wore these bell-crowns Meshach hates me, an' I hope he's theonly man that does hate me, Levin. I don't think Meshach kin be a badman."
"How kin he be good, Jack?"
"Why, I have seen him in the woods when he didn't see me, calling up thebirds. Danged if they didn't come and git on him! Now birds ain't gwynto hop on a man that's a devil, Levin. Do you believe he deals with thedevil?"
"I do," said Levin; "I see sich quare things I believe in most anythingquare. These yer tarrapins has got sense, and they're no more like itthan a stone. One night when we hadn't nothin' to eat at home, motherand me, an' she was a sittin' there with tears in her eyes wonderin'what we'd do next day, I ree-collected, Levin, that there was fourtarrapins down in the cellar,--black tarrapin, that had been put theresix months before. I said to mother: 'I 'spect them ole tarrapins isdead an' starved, but I'll go see.'
"I found 'em under the wood-pile, an' they didn't smell nor nothin', soI took 'em all four up to mother an' put 'em on the kitchen table befo'the fire, an' I devilled 'em every way to wake up, an' crawl, and showsome signs of life. No, they was stone dead!
"'Well, mother,' says I, 'put on your bilin' water an' we'll see if deadtarrapin is fit fur to eat!' She smiled t
hrough her cryin', and put thewater on, an' when it began to bubble in the pot, I lifted up one ofthem tarrapins an' dropped him in the bilin' water, an' Jack, I'll bedog-goned if them other three tarrapins didn't run right off the tablean' drop on to the flo' an' skeet for that cellar door!
"I caught 'em an' biled 'em, an' as we sat there eatin' stewed tarrapinwithout no salt, or sherry wine, or coffee, or even corn-bread, we heardsomethin' like paper scratchin' on the window, an' mother fell back andclasped her hands, an' said, 'There, do you hear the ghost?'
"I rushed to the door an' hopped into the yard, an' not a livin'creature did I see; but there on the window-shelf was packages of salt,coffee, tea, and flour, and a half a dollar in silver! I run back in thehouse, white as a ghost myself, an' I cried out, 'Mother, it's father'ssperrit come again!'
"She made me git on my knees an' pray with her to give poor father'sspirit comfort in his home or in heaven!"