The Continental Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 4, April, 1862

Jake still hesitated, and when at last he was about to speak, the eye of the octoroon woman caught his, and chained the words to his tongue, as if by magnetic power.

'Do you say that, boys;' said the Colonel, turning to the other negroes; 'shall he have fifty lashes?'

'Yas, massa, fifty lashes—gib de ole debil fifty lashes,' shouted about fifty voices.

'He shall have them,' quietly said the master.

The mad shout that followed, which was more like the yell of demons than the cry of men, seemed to arouse the Overseer to a sense of the real state of affairs. Springing to his feet, he gazed wildly around; then, sinking on his knees before the octoroon, and clutching the folds of her dress, he shrieked, 'Save me, good lady, save me! as you hope for mercy, save me!'

Not a muscle of her face moved, but, turning to the excited crowd, she mildly said, 'Fifty lashes would kill him. Jake does not say that—your master leaves it to him, and he will not whip a dying man—will you, Jake?'

'No, ma'am—not—not ef you go agin it,' replied the negro, with very evident reluctance.

'But he whipped Sam, ma'am, when he was nearer dead than he am,' said Jim, whose station as house-servant allowed him a certain freedom of speech.

'Because he was brutal to Sam, should you be brutal to him? Can you expect me to tend you when you are sick, if you beat a dying man? Does Pompey say you should do such things?' said the lady.

'No, good ma'am,' said the old preacher, stepping out, with the freedom of an old servant, from the black mass, and taking his stand beside me in the open space left for the 'w'ite folks;' 'de ole man dusn't say dat, ma'am; he tell 'em de Lord want 'em to forgib dar en'mies—to lub dem dat pursyskute em;' then, turning to the Colonel, he added, as he passed his hand meekly over his thin crop of white wool and threw his long heel back, 'ef massa'll 'low me I'll talk to 'em.'

'Fire away,' said the Colonel, with evident chagrin. 'This is a nigger trial; if you want to screen the d– hound you can do it.'

'I dusn't want to screed him, massa, but I'se bery ole and got soon to gwo, and I dusn't want de blessed Lord to ax me wen I gets dar why I 'lowed dese pore ig'nant brack folks to mudder a man 'fore my bery face. I toted you, massa, fore you cud gwo, I'se worked for you till I can't work no more; and I dusn't want to tell de Lord dat my massa let a brudder man be killed in cole blood.'

'He is no brother of mine, you old fool; preach to the nigs, don't preach to me,' said the Colonel, stifling his displeasure, and striding off through the black crowd, without saying another word.

Here and there in the dark mass a face showed signs of relenting; but much the larger number of that strange jury, had the question been put, would have voted—DEATH.

The old preacher turned to them as the Colonel passed out, and said, 'My chil'ren, would you hab dis man whipped, so weak, so dyin' as he am, of he war brack?'

'No, not ef he war a darky—fer den he wouldn't be such an ole debil,' replied Jim, and about a dozen of the other negroes.

'De w'ite ain't no wuss dan de brack—dey'm all 'like—pore sinners all ob 'em. De Lord wudn't whip a w'ite man no sooner dan a brack one—He tinks de w'ite juss so good as de brack (good Southern doctrine, I thought). De porest w'ite trash wudn't strike a man wen he war down.'

'We'se had 'nough of dis, ole man,' said a large, powerful negro (one of the drivers), stepping forward, and, regardless of the presence of Madam P– and myself, pressing close to where the Overseer lay, now totally unconscious of what was passing around him. 'You needn't preach no more; de Cunnul hab say we'm to whip ole Moye, and we'se gwine to do it, by –.'

I felt my fingers closing on the palm of my hand, and in a second more they would have cut the darky's profile, had not Madam P– cried out, 'Stand back, you impudent fellow: say another word, and I'll have you whipped on the spot.'

'De Cunnul am my massa, ma'am—he say ole Moye shall be whipped, and I'se gwine to do it—shore.'

I have seen a storm at sea—I have seen the tempest tear up great trees—I have seen the lightning strike in a dark night—but I never saw anything half so grand, half so terrible, as the glance and tone of that woman as she cried out, 'Jim, take this man—give him fifty lashes this instant.'

Quicker than thought, a dozen darkies were on him. His hands and feet were tied and he was under the whipping-rack in a second. Turning then to the other negroes, the brave woman said, 'Some of you carry Moye to the house, and you, Jim, see to this man—if fifty lashes don't make him sorry, give him fifty more.'

This summary change of programme was silently acquiesced in by the assembled darkies, but many a cloudy face scowled sulkily on the octoroon, as, leaning on my arm, she followed Junius and the other negroes, who bore Moye to the mansion. It was plain that under those dark faces a fire was burning that a breath would have fanned into a flame.

We entered the house by its rear door, and placed Moye in a small room on the ground floor. He was laid on a bed, and stimulants being given him, his senses and reason shortly returned. His eyes opened, and his real position seemed suddenly to flash upon him, for he turned to Madam P–, and in a weak voice, half-choked with emotion, faltered out, 'May God in heaven bless ye, ma'am; God will bless ye for bein' so good to a wicked man like me. I doesn't desarve it, but ye woant leave me—ye woant leave me—they'll kill me ef ye do!'

'Don't fear,' said the Madam; 'you shall have a fair trial. No harm shall come to you here.'

'Thank ye, thank ye,' gasped the Overseer, raising himself on one arm, and clutching at the lady's hand, which he tried to lift to his lips.

'Don't say any more now,' said Madam P–, quietly; 'you must rest and be quiet, or you won't get well.'

'Shan't I get well? Oh, I can't die—I can't die now!'

The lady made a soothing reply, and giving him an opiate, and arranging the bedding so that he might rest more easily, she left the room with me.

As we stepped into the hall, I saw through the front door, which was open, the horses harnessed in readiness for 'meeting,' and the Colonel pacing to and fro on the piazza, smoking a cigar. He perceived us, and halted in front of the doorway.

'So, you've brought that d– blood-thirsty villain into my house!' he said to Madam P–, in a tone of strong displeasure.

'How could I help it? The negroes are mad, and would kill him anywhere else,' replied the lady, with a certain self-confidence that showed she knew her power over the Colonel.

'Why should you interfere between them and him? Has he not insulted you often enough to make you let him alone? Can you so easily forgive his taunting you with'—He did not finish the sentence, but what I had learned on the previous evening from the old nurse gave me a clue to its meaning. A red flame flushed the face and neck of the octoroon woman—her eyes literally flashed fire, and her very breath seemed to come with pain; in a moment, however, this emotion passed away, and she quietly said, 'Let me settle that in my own way. He has served you well—you have nothing against him that the law will not punish.'

'By –, you are the most unaccountable woman I ever knew,' exclaimed the Colonel, striding up and down the piazza, the angry feeling passing from his face, and giving way to a mingled expression of wonder and admiration. The conversation was here interrupted by Jim, who just then made his appearance, hat in hand.

'Well, Jim, what is it?' asked his master.

'We'se gib'n Sam twenty lashes, ma'am, but he beg so hard, and say he so sorry, dat I tole him I'd ax you 'fore we gabe him any more.'

'Well, if he's sorry, that's enough; but tell him he'll get fifty another time,' said the lady.

'What Sam is it?' asked the Colonel.

'Big Sam, the driver,' said Jim.

'Why was he whipped?'

'He told me you were his master, and insisted on whipping Moye,' replied the lady.

'Did he dare to do that? Give him a hundred, Jim, not one less,' roared the Colonel.

'Yas, massa,' said Jim.

The lady looked significantly at the negro and shook her head, but said nothing, and he left.

'Come, Alice, it is nearly time for meeting, and I want to stop and see Sandy on the way.'

'I reckon I won't go,' said Madam P–.

'You stay to take care of Moye, I suppose,' said the Colonel, with a slight sneer.

'Yes,' replied the lady; 'he is badly hurt, and in danger of inflammation.'

'Well, suit yourself. Sir. K–, come, we'll go—you'll meet some of the natives.'

The lady retired to the house, and the Colonel and I were soon ready. The driver brought the horses to the door, and as we were about to enter the carriage, I noticed Jim taking his accustomed seat on the box.