At three o'clock sharp the streets were filled, as if by magic, with armed white men. The negroes, going about, had noted2, with uneasy curiosity, that the stores and places of business, many of which closed at noon, were unduly3 late in opening for the afternoon, though no one suspected the reason for the delay; but at three o'clock every passing colored man was ordered, by the first white man he met, to throw up his hands. If he complied, he was searched, more or less roughly, for firearms, and then warned to get off the street. When he met another group of white men the scene was repeated. The man thus summarily held up seldom encountered more than two groups before disappearing across lots to his own home or some convenient hiding-place. If he resisted any demand of those who halted him—But the records of the day are historical; they may be found in the newspapers of the following date, but they are more firmly engraved4 upon the hearts and memories of the people of Wellington. For many months there were negro families in the town whose children screamed with fear and ran to their mothers for protection at the mere5 sight of a white man.
Dr. Miller6 had received a call, about one o'clock, to attend a case at the house of a well-to-do colored farmer, who lived some three or four miles from the town, upon the very road, by the way, along which Miller had driven so furiously a few weeks before, in the few hours that intervened before Sandy Campbell would probably have been burned at the stake. The drive to his patient's home, the necessary inquiries7, the filling of the prescription8 from his own medicine-case, which he carried along with him, the little friendly conversation about the weather and the crops, and, the farmer being an intelligent and thinking man, the inevitable10 subject of the future of their race,—these, added to the return journey, occupied at least two hours of Miller's time.
As he neared the town on his way back, he saw ahead of him half a dozen men and women approaching, with fear written in their faces, in every degree from apprehension11 to terror. Women were weeping and children crying, and all were going as fast as seemingly lay in their power, looking behind now and then as if pursued by some deadly enemy. At sight of Miller's buggy they made a dash for cover, disappearing, like a covey of frightened partridges, in the underbrush along the road.
Miller pulled up his horse and looked after them in startled wonder.
"What on earth can be the matter?" he muttered, struck with a vague feeling of alarm. A psychologist, seeking to trace the effects of slavery upon the human mind, might find in the South many a curious illustration of this curse, abiding12 long after the actual physical bondage13 had terminated. In the olden time the white South labored14 under the constant fear of negro insurrections. Knowing that they themselves, if in the negroes' place, would have risen in the effort to throw off the yoke15, all their reiterated16 theories of negro subordination and inferiority could not remove that lurking17 fear, founded upon the obscure consciousness that the slaves ought to have risen. Conscience, it has been said, makes cowards of us all. There was never, on the continent of America, a successful slave revolt, nor one which lasted more than a few hours, or resulted in the loss of more than a few white lives; yet never was the planter quite free from the fear that there might be one.
On the other hand, the slave had before his eyes always the fear of the master. There were good men, according to their lights,—according to their training and environment,—among the Southern slaveholders, who treated their slaves kindly18, as slaves, from principle, because they recognized the claims of humanity, even under the dark skin of a human chattel19. There was many a one who protected or pampered20 his negroes, as the case might be, just as a man fondles his dog,—because they were his; they were a part of his estate, an integral part of the entity21 of property and person which made up the aristocrat22; but with all this kindness, there was always present, in the consciousness of the lowest slave, the knowledge that he was in his master's power, and that he could make no effectual protest against the abuse of that authority. There was also the knowledge, among those who could think at all, that the best of masters was himself a slave to a system, which hampered23 his movements but scarcely less than those of his bondmen.
When, therefore, Miller saw these men and women scampering24 into the bushes, he divined, with this slumbering25 race consciousness which years of culture had not obliterated26, that there was some race trouble on foot. His intuition did not long remain unsupported. A black head was cautiously protruded27 from the shrubbery, and a black voice—if such a description be allowable—addressed him:—
"Is dat you, Doctuh Miller?"
"Yes. Who are you, and what's the trouble?"
"What's de trouble, suh? Why, all hell's broke loose in town yonduh. De w'ite folks is riz 'gins' de niggers, an' say dey're gwine ter kill eve'y nigger dey kin9 lay han's on."
Miller's heart leaped to his throat, as he thought of his wife and child. This story was preposterous28; it could not be true, and yet there must be something in it. He tried to question his informant, but the man was so overcome with excitement and fear that Miller saw clearly that he must go farther for information. He had read in the Morning Chronicle, a few days before, the obnoxious29 editorial quoted from the Afro-American Banner, and had noted the comment upon it by the white editor. He had felt, as at the time of its first publication, that the editorial was ill-advised. It could do no good, and was calculated to arouse the animosity of those whose friendship, whose tolerance30, at least, was necessary and almost indispensable to the colored people. They were living, at the best, in a sort of armed neutrality with the whites; such a publication, however serviceable elsewhere, could have no other effect in Wellington than to endanger this truce31 and defeat the hope of a possible future friendship. The right of free speech entitled Barber to publish it; a larger measure of common-sense would have made him withhold32 it. Whether it was the republication of this article that had stirred up anew the sleeping dogs of race prejudice and whetted33 their thirst for blood, he could not yet tell; but at any rate, there was mischief34 on foot.
"Fer God's sake, doctuh, don' go no closeter ter dat town," pleaded his informant, "er you'll be killt sho'. Come on wid us, suh, an' tek keer er yo'se'f. We're gwine ter hide in de swamps till dis thing is over!"
"God, man!" exclaimed Miller, urging his horse forward, "my wife and child are in the town!"
Fortunately, he reflected, there were no patients confined in the hospital,—if there should be anything in this preposterous story. To one unfamiliar35 with Southern life, it might have seemed impossible that these good Christian36 people, who thronged37 the churches on Sunday, and wept over the sufferings of the lowly Nazarene, and sent missionaries38 to the heathen, could be hungering and thirsting for the blood of their fellow men; but Miller cherished no such delusion39. He knew the history of his country; he had the threatened lynching of Sandy Campbell vividly40 in mind; and he was fully41 persuaded that to race prejudice, once roused, any horror was possible. That women or children would be molested42 of set purpose he did not believe, but that they might suffer by accident was more than likely.
As he neared the town, dashing forward at the top of his horse's speed, he heard his voice called in a loud and agitated43 tone, and, glancing around him, saw a familiar form standing44 by the roadside, gesticulating vehemently45.
He drew up the horse with a suddenness that threw the faithful and obedient animal back upon its haunches. The colored lawyer, Watson, came up to the buggy. That he was laboring46 under great and unusual excitement was quite apparent from his pale face and frightened air.
"What's the matter, Watson?" demanded Miller, hoping now to obtain some reliable information.
"Matter!" exclaimed the other. "Everything's the matter! The white people are up in arms. They have disarmed47 the colored people, killing48 half a dozen in the process, and wounding as many more. They have forced the mayor and aldermen to resign, have formed a provisional city government à la Française, and have ordered me and half a dozen other fellows to leave town in forty-eight hours, under pain of sudden death. As they seem to mean it, I shall not stay so long. Fortunately, my wife and children are away. I knew you were out here, however, and I thought I'd come out and wait for you, so that we might talk the matter over. I don't imagine they mean you any harm, personally, because you tread on nobody's toes; but you're too valuable a man for the race to lose, so I thought I'd give you warning. I shall want to sell you my property, too, at a bargain. For I'm worth too much to my family to dream of ever attempting to live here again."
"Have you seen anything of my wife and child?" asked Miller, intent upon the danger to which they might be exposed.
"No; I didn't go to the house. I inquired at the drugstore and found out where you had gone. You needn't fear for them,—it is not a war on women and children."
"War of any kind is always hardest on the women and children," returned
Miller; "I must hurry on and see that mine are safe."
"They'll not carry the war so far into Africa as that," returned Watson; "but I never saw anything like it. Yesterday I had a hundred white friends in the town, or thought I had,—men who spoke49 pleasantly to me on the street, and sometimes gave me their hands to shake. Not one of them said to me today: 'Watson, stay at home this afternoon.' I might have been killed, like any one of half a dozen others who have bit the dust, for any word that one of my 'friends' had said to warn me. When the race cry is started in this neck of the woods, friendship, religion, humanity, reason, all shrivel up like dry leaves in a raging furnace."
The buggy, into which Watson had climbed, was meanwhile rapidly nearing the town.
"I think I'll leave you here, Miller," said Watson, as they approached the outskirts50, "and make my way home by a roundabout path, as I should like to get there unmolested. Home!—a beautiful word that, isn't it, for an exiled wanderer? It might not be well, either, for us to be seen together. If you put the hood51 of your buggy down, and sit well back in the shadow, you may be able to reach home without interruption; but avoid the main streets. I'll see you again this evening, if we're both alive, and I can reach you; for my time is short. A committee are to call in the morning to escort me to the train. I am to be dismissed from the community with public honors." Watson was climbing down from the buggy, when a small party of men were seen approaching, and big Josh Green, followed by several other resolute-looking colored men, came up and addressed them.
"Dr. Miller," cried Green, "Mr. Watson,—we're lookin' fer a leader. De w'ite folks are killin' de niggers, an' we ain' gwine ter stan' up an' be shot down like dogs. We're gwine ter defen' ou' lives, an' we ain' gwine ter run away f'm no place where we 'we got a right ter be; an' woe52 be ter de w'ite man w'at lays ban's on us! Dere's two niggers in dis town ter eve'y w'ite man, an' ef we 'we got ter be killt, we'll take some w'ite folks 'long wid us, ez sho' ez dere's a God in heaven,—ez I s'pose dere is, dough53 He mus' be 'sleep, er busy somewhar e'se ter-day. Will you-all come an' lead us?"
"Gentlemen," said Watson, "what is the use? The negroes will not back you up. They haven't the arms, nor the moral courage, nor the leadership."
"We'll git de arms, an' we'll git de courage, ef you'll come an' lead us! We wants leaders,—dat's w'y we come ter you!"
"What's the use?" returned Watson despairingly. "The odds54 are too heavy. I've been ordered out of town; if I stayed, I'd be shot on sight, unless I had a body-guard around me."
"We'll be yo' body-guard!" shouted half a dozen voices.
"And when my body-guard was shot, what then? I have a wife and children. It is my duty to live for them. If I died, I should get no glory and no reward, and my family would be reduced to beggary,—to which they'll soon be near enough as it is. This affair will blow over in a day or two. The white people will be ashamed of themselves to-morrow, and apprehensive55 of the consequences for some time to come. Keep quiet, boys, and trust in God. You won't gain anything by resistance."
"'God he'ps dem dat he'ps demselves,'" returned Josh stoutly56. "Ef Mr. Watson won't lead us, will you, Dr. Miller?" said the spokesman, turning to the doctor.
For Miller it was an agonizing57 moment. He was no coward, morally or physically58. Every manly59 instinct urged him to go forward and take up the cause of these leaderless people, and, if need be, to defend their lives and their rights with his own,—but to what end?
"Listen, men," he said. "We would only be throwing our lives away. Suppose we made a determined60 stand and won a temporary victory. By morning every train, every boat, every road leading into Wellington, would be crowded with white men,—as they probably will be any way,—with arms in their hands, curses on their lips, and vengeance61 in their hearts. In the minds of those who make and administer the laws, we have no standing in the court of conscience. They would kill us in the fight, or they would hang us afterwards,—one way or another, we should be doomed62. I should like to lead you; I should like to arm every colored man in this town, and have them stand firmly in line, not for attack, but for defense63; but if I attempted it, and they should stand by me, which is questionable,—for I have met them fleeing from the town,—my life would pay the forfeit64. Alive, I may be of some use to you, and you are welcome to my life in that way,—I am giving it freely. Dead, I should be a mere lump of carrion65. Who remembers even the names of those who have been done to death in the Southern States for the past twenty years?"
"I 'members de name er one of 'em," said Josh, "an' I 'members de name er de man dat killt 'im, an' I s'pec' his time is mighty66 nigh come."
"My advice is not heroic, but I think it is wise. In this riot we are placed as we should be in a war: we have no territory, no base of supplies, no organization, no outside sympathy,—we stand in the position of a race, in a case like this, without money and without friends. Our time will come,—the time when we can command respect for our rights; but it is not yet in sight. Give it up, boys, and wait. Good may come of this, after all."
Several of the men wavered, and looked irresolute67.
"I reckon that's all so, doctuh," returned Josh, "an', de way you put it, I don' blame you ner Mr. Watson; but all dem reasons ain' got no weight wid me. I'm gwine in dat town, an' ef any w'ite man 'sturbs me, dere'll be trouble,—dere'll be double trouble,—I feels it in my bones!"
"Remember your old mother, Josh," said Miller.
"Yas, sub, I'll 'member her; dat's all I kin do now. I don' need ter wait fer her no mo', fer she died dis mo'nin'. I'd lack ter see her buried, suh, but I may not have de chance. Ef I gits killt, will you do me a favor?"
"Yes, Josh; what is it?"
"Ef I should git laid out in dis commotion68 dat's gwine on, will you collec' my wages f'm yo' brother, and see dat de ole 'oman is put away right?"
"Yes, of course."
"Yes."
"All right, suh! Ef I don' live ter do it, I'll know it'll be 'tended ter right. Now we're gwine out ter de cotton compress, an' git a lot er colored men tergether, an' ef de w'ite folks 'sturbs me, I shouldn't be s'prise' ef dere'd be a mix-up;—an' ef dere is, me an one w'ite man 'll stan' befo' de jedgment th'one er God dis day; an' it won't be me w'at'll be 'feared er de jedgment. Come along, boys! Dese gentlemen may have somethin' ter live fer; but ez fer my pa't, I'd ruther be a dead nigger any day dan a live dog!"
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1
sapphire
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| n.青玉，蓝宝石；adj.天蓝色的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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miller
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| n.磨坊主 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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abiding
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| adj.永久的，持久的，不变的 | |
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bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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15
yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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reiterated
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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chattel
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| n.动产；奴隶 | |
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pampered
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| adj.饮食过量的，饮食奢侈的v.纵容，宠，娇养( pamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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entity
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| n.实体，独立存在体，实际存在物 | |
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aristocrat
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| n.贵族，有贵族气派的人，上层人物 | |
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hampered
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scampering
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| v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑，惊惶奔跑( scamper的现在分词 ) | |
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25
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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obliterated
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| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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27
protruded
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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28
preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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obnoxious
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| adj.极恼人的，讨人厌的，可憎的 | |
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tolerance
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| n.宽容；容忍，忍受；耐药力；公差 | |
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truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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withhold
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| v.拒绝，不给；使停止，阻挡 | |
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whetted
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| v.（在石头上）磨（刀、斧等）( whet的过去式和过去分词 )；引起，刺激（食欲、欲望、兴趣等） | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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missionaries
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| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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molested
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| v.骚扰( molest的过去式和过去分词 )；干扰；调戏；猥亵 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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laboring
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| n.劳动，操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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disarmed
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| v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 )；使息怒 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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49
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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50
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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51
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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52
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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dough
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| n.生面团；钱，现款 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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55
apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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56
stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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57
agonizing
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| adj.痛苦难忍的；使人苦恼的v.使极度痛苦；折磨(agonize的ing形式) | |
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58
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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61
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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62
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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64
forfeit
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| vt.丧失；n.罚金，罚款，没收物 | |
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65
carrion
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| n.腐肉 | |
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66
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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67
irresolute
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| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
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68
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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69
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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