The Kidnapped And The Ransomed Part 34

"So I thought; I should'nt if I were in your place."

After some further conversation with the chief of the band, he took the prisoners in and locked them up "But he acted," Vina says, "like he felt mighty sorry for us; and I believe, if we had'nt been watched so close, he mought 'a' let us go."

In the jail they were visited every day by Concklin, who came and talked with them through the window; and daily Vina begged him to leave them there and seek his own safety. "Now you can't do us no good, Sir, no how, and 'pears like you best take care o'youself."

"Oh," replied he, "I don't feel at all uneasy."

"Well, Sir, I feels oneasy about you, and you best not stay round yer no longer. It wont make it no better for us, and you'll git into trouble, sure."

But some dream of rescuing them haunted his mind; he could not bear to leave them. It was something new for him to be foiled in any undertaking; and he had set his heart upon delivering this family to the husband and father, who he know was waiting, with trembling heart, to welcome them.

Immediately after lodging them in jail, the chief of the marauding band had telegraphed in all directions to ascertain if four negroes, answering the description of these had anywhere been missed; and also what reward was offered for their capture. The "lightning postboy" hasted to execute their mission, and soon returned them answer. "Four likely negroes had been stolen from Bernard McKiernan, near South Florence, Ala., and their owner had offered a reward of four hundred dollars for the property, and six hundred for the apprehension of the thief; and his delivery in South Florence."

Upon the receipt of this information, Concklin was seized, and thrust into prison. Still his brave hopeful spirit bore him up--"'peared like he couldn't feel discouraged."

It was night; and night in prison is never lovely. Catharine and her brothers were asleep, but Vina's eyes closed not. Her thoughts were busy picturing the sorrows to which they were returning, the tortures that awaited them, and all the hopelessness of their future lives. Never more should the voice of her husband greet her ear--never more should his smiles gladden her heart. And her children-- henceforth they would be branded as runaways, and thus exposed to grievous ills, to which, thus far, they had been strangers. No one would trust them now.

Suddenly she started. Wheels approached, and stopped in front of the jail. Did she know that voice? Yes, she could not be mistaken.

"I wish you would let me in. I would like to see them."

She heard the jailor in reply, and soon footsteps approached their cell. Vina roused her children. "We'll git toted back now. Old McKiernan's a comin.' He's a talkin' out yer."

Soon the key turned in the lock, and the jailor entered with a light, followed by a stranger, and the "old master." His cane was in his hand--his face looked redder than usual, and his eyes hastily searched every part of the room. He approached the bed on which his slaves were still lying, and for a moment looked down on them in silence.

"Ha! boy, what are you doing here?" said he to Peter.

No answer.

"Speak! you rascal, or I'll knock you in the head with this stick.

Don't you know me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Aint I your old master?"

Reluctantly Peter answered, "Yes, sir."

"Didn't I raise you all?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, d--n you, what are you doing here?"

"Don't know, sir."

"Don't know! I'll make you tell a different tale from that when I get you home. You, Levin, don't you think this, is a devil of a caper?"

Levin was silent, and the master turned to his mother. "See here, girl, how came you to leave home?"

No answer.

"Aint it d--d astonis.h.i.+ng you all can't answer when you're spoken to?"

Still no answer came, and he turned to his companion. "Ah, that huzzy! she's at the bottom of all this. If it hadn't been for her, and that rascal Peter, they never would have left me in the world."

"What Peter is that?" asked the man.

"Why, he is this girl's husband. He got in with a Jew, and persuaded him to buy him; and a few months after that, Peter bought himself. This sc.r.a.pe was in the bargain at first, I'm certain."

"Where are this Peter and his master now?"

"I don't know exactly--but if they ever show their heads in Tusc.u.mbia again, I'll have them hung sky high. Peter is at the bottom of this; but he never had sense to do it alone--he's had help, I'll swear. Some d--d abolitionist has had a hand in it. I believe there's some, of them in Franklin county, and if I can hunt them out, they shall be burnt, or I'll have their heads--one."

He then proceeded to question the family concerning their escape; and to s.h.i.+eld Concklin, they told a story which they had previously prepared for an emergency like this. They declared that Concklin, or as they called him, Miller, did not bring them away at first, but that four persons took them, and delivered them up to him. Who these persons were, they could not tell; but they described "some sort o' men that they had never seen." "Yes, yes," said the master, "d--n them, I've seen four such looking fellows in Tusc.u.mbia."

After a while he left them, and went into the next room, where Concklin was confined. There they heard his voice for a long time; at first in moderate tones, but when his pa.s.sion rose, his words could easily be distinguished. "It's d--d astonis.h.i.+ng that you won't tell who started you in this business. Would you be such a fool as to be carried back in irons, and lose your life for the sake of saving other people?"

"It is of no use for you to question me about them," replied Concklin. "You have me now, and it is not worth while to bring other people into trouble."

"Well, d--n you, how do you feel in them irons?"

"I suppose I feel better than you will at some future day in consequence of causing them to be put on me."

"How is that?"

"You will have plenty of time to find out."

Finding that he could get no satisfactory answer from the "thief,"

he returned to the room where his property was confined. Here he remained about an hour, alternately cursing and asking questions; but he could not make them tell who started them on their way. At last he left them and went out.

Early in the morning, he returned, and ordered them to get ready to go home. They rose immediately, but were scarcely ready when the stage came to the door.

After they were seated in the coach, Concklin was brought out in irons, and put in with them. He still looked brave and cheerful; but the slaves, alas! there was no light in-their downcast eyes--no hope in their disappointed hearts.

When the stage stopped to change horses, they alighted to take breakfast. They, all sat down together, but only the master and his companion*

* Emison. See Memoir of Concklin.

had appet.i.tes for food. Vina only drank a cup of coffee, and the boys ate very little.

"Why don't you eat, girl?" demanded the master.

"I don't keer 'bout eatin'," she replied.

"Well, if you all had staid at home, you'd been able to eat."

They were soon re-seated in the stage, and none of them left it again till after dark, when they reached Evansville. Here they spoke of putting the captives into jail for safe keeping; but it was whispered that if they did so they might not find them in the morning; and at last they took them to a private house, where, after giving them their supper, they locked them up all together in a room in the second story. The master of the house, who, they understood was a brother-in-law of their master's escort, sat all night on the stairs to watch them.