CHAPTER VI.

THE CLOUD THICKENS.

“Yon Cassius has a lean and hungry look; He thinks too much: such men are dangerous. Fear him not, Cæsar, he’s not dangerous; He is a noble Roman and well given.”

—JULIUS CÆSAR.

THE State of South Carolina was settled by political refugees and desperadoes of every description and from every nation, with no unity of ideas or interests; and African slavery was introduced but two years after the first settlement had secured a permanent footing. Hence, arrogance and oppression, rapacity and murder, early became the rule and occupation of the people.

The existence and perpetuation of slavery during more than eight generations caused and necessitated an arrest of progress in civilization, and the war which resulted in the emancipation of the slaves and the re-establishment of the Union, found the whites in several of the Southern States, in many respects not far in advance of the people of England in the sixteenth century; and as those feudalistic and inharmonious families—the descendants of the earliest settlers—are still recognized as “the first families,” the “aristocracy of the State”—in the year of our Lord 1876, and of the Republic one hundred—boasting and bravado were accomplishments ostentatiously displayed there, and often sustained by such brutal assault and lawless violence and outrage, as those of the worst days of feudalism.

This state of society alone explains the temerity of the threats and preparations for violence, and their fearful consummation, which blacken the history of the Republic’s centennial year.

While Robert Baker and his sons were in Dunn’s groggery, informing their counsel respecting the particulars of the suit he was about to conduct for them, many exciting scenes were transpiring in the vicinity, and the streets of the doomed village were becoming lively with the presence of armed men, who were freely imbibing whisky, and threatening to “kill every —— nigger in Baconsville that day.” Especially loud and frequent were the threats against the Captain and Second Lieutenant of the militia company.

As soon as half-past three o’clock, quite a crowd had gathered around George Dunn’s store, and the bar was evidently reaping the rich harvest Mrs. D. had anticipated; while with loud and excessively revolting profanity, the case shortly to be tried was canvassed, and rumors of a “negro insurrection” rehearsed.

“Who is that coming?” asked one, as a quiet man of medium size approached.

“Oh, that is Judge Kanrasp of the county seat, he is a cursed Northern Republican,” was the reply, accompanied by a shocking oath.

The wrathful eyes of the entire crowd were fixed upon him as he came up, and, entering the store, approached the place where the two Bakers sat, and addressing the General said, “Mr. Gaston informed me that you wished to see me.”

This was not his first interview with Mr. _Robert_ Baker in connection with this difficulty. The latter had stopped him that morning upon the streets of the city opposite, to speak of the pending trial.

The Judge had then stated his opinion that Gaston’s testimony had thus far developed no legal case against the colored men, and urged the abandonment of the case, as to push it further, would merely excite ill-feeling between the two races at a time when it was most undesirable—at the commencement of a political campaign—and even should the plaintiffs secure a judgment, it was a matter which could be appealed, and in a higher court their case could not stand a moment.

“I shall do no such thing,” replied Mr. Baker. “The negroes of Baconsville have been very offensive; they have interfered with my sons, and I am _determined that they shall be punished. The case shall be prosecuted_, and so far as any feeling is concerned, I don’t care for that. Some of my friends and neighbors from the country have been informed that the trial will take place this evening, and they will be present, not less than twenty-five or thirty of them.”

“Mr. Baker, perhaps there will be two or three hundred,” said Kanrasp.

“Well, yes (with an oath), two or three thousand!” and the two men separated, and the Judge at once crossed the river to Baconsville, and confidentially communicated all to a discreet colored man there, in whose cool, quiet determination he had great confidence; commissioning him to see the officers of the militia company, and instruct them to present themselves at the Court, submit to judgment whatever it might be, and then, by an appeal to a higher court, find an easy way out of the difficulty; as the “precept” or informal paper which had been served upon them, must cause the judgment to fail there; and stating that in case of an attempted defense before Justice Rives, he apprehended serious trouble from the throng that would undoubtedly be present.

Other important business detained both Kanrasp and his influential friend Springer till the middle of the afternoon, when, on re-entering the street, they saw the village thickly besprinkled with squads of men from the rifle clubs of the vicinity. These clubs or military companies existed in open defiance of law and the Governor’s prohibitive proclamation.

“This looks like trouble,” said Judge Kanrasp to his friend. “Strange way to attend a simple trial! Now go right up and see those officers _immediately_, and urge them to be on hand at court, and stand judgment.” So saying he went to Marmor’s office upon other business, where Gaston soon rode up, bringing Gen. Baker’s request for the interview, to which we find him responding.

“I am here to represent my cousin, Mr. Robert Baker, in this matter,” said the General, “and wish you, Mr. Kanrasp, to sit down and tell me what it is.”

Judge K. complied, adding the advice he had given his clients.

“We have been annoyed a great deal by the negroes about here, and I am determined to get satisfaction, and Gen. Baker has been brought here as my attorney, to see that satisfaction is given us,” said Robert Baker, in a loud and vehement tone.

“Now, Judge Kanrasp,” said the General, “will you not go and see those officers of this company and request them to call upon me? I desire to tell them what I think is necessary for them to do to prevent the possibility of difficulty in the future. A great deal of feeling has been growing between Mr. Robert Baker’s family and immediate neighbors, and these colored people in Baconsville.”

“What proposition do you make them?”

“Well, I think it will be necessary for them to apologize to my cousin and surrender their arms.”

As he did not say to whom their arms should be surrendered, the Judge replied——

“Well, General, you know I am, like yourself, merely an incident in Baconsville; and whilst I have, of course, a certain amount of influence with the colored people, on account of my political affiliations with them, I cannot undertake to say that they will respond to your request. I will do what I can to induce them to do so. But suppose these negotiations and propositions fail, is it likely that that there will be a collision?”

“I think there will.”

“Well, as I am one of a very few white ‘radicals’ here, if a collision takes place I suppose I shall stand a pretty poor chance.”

“I have no doubt that you will.”

Shortly after Judge K. left Mr. Marmor’s office (which adjoined his dwelling), Capt. Doc, Lieut. Watta, Mr. Springer and Rev. Mr. Jackson (the Legislative member who had delivered the oration on the 4th), entered. Mr. Jackson was much excited, and walked up and down the room, interlarding questions and ejaculations and prayers quite promiscuously; unheeding the kindly solicitude of a bright little boy of five years, with shining auburn ringlets, and great, soft, spiritual eyes, which looked eagerly towards “the Elder’s” face as he went tugging a large Bible back and forth behind him.

“Ha! Jackson, hear that boy now,” said Doc. “The child is the best Christian of the two, come to the pinch.”

“What? What was you saying Doc?” asked the Reverend Honorable.

“Why, just see what that boy has got, and hear what he’s saying. _He_ don’t scare worth a cent. Do you Bub? You’ll make a soldier some day, won’t you?”

“No sir, I reckon I won’t, cause soldiers kill. ‘Thou shalt not kill.’ That’s the sixth commandment.”

“What about the book, sonny,” asked Elder Jackson.

“My Sunday school teacher says when I’m afraid, I must ask God what to do; and this is His letter, He wrote it. It’s big,” tugging to raise it to the level of the man’s hand.

The Elder took the Bible, sat down, drew the child to his side, opened it at random, and read, Isaiah xviii: 7: “In that time shall the present be brought unto the Lord of hosts of a people scattered and peeled, and from a people terrible from their beginning hitherto; a nation meted out and trodden under foot, whose land the rivers have spoiled, to the place of the name of the Lord of hosts, the Mount Zion.”

He closed the book muttering, “Yes, the freshet came clear up to the church, clear up to the church.”

“The whole matter is that the Bakers are determined to break up this drilling,” said Marmor. “You’re too good a drill master, Doc. The old man himself told me that it was wrong, and that the niggers shouldn’t have no militia company, and that it was wrong for you to drill by moonlight. I told him that the white militia over here in Georgia drilled on the streets every night. ‘Well, it’s wrong for the niggers to drill at _all_,’ says he.”

“Well, now, it does ’pear to me like the white folks is determined to put the devil into the colored people’s heads anyhow. Now, we’re honest in this matter, and only want to have a nice militia company like the white folks does, and like free citizens has got a right to, and to protect the State when it needs it and the Governor calls for us; but they just goes to work, and by talking about what they pretend the colored people is a going, or _intending_ to do, they just makes the colored people mad, and puts these bad ideas into their heads, and by-and-by the colored people, maybe will get courage enough to undertake to do as they is really instructing us to do. And then there’s more’n that in it too. Mor’n two months ago Hanson Baker tole me and John Peters, Press Wells, and John Bade, and if I mistake not, Lem Panesly, that the Democrats had made it up in their own minds, and they had gone over the State, and also had about thirty men from Texas and Mississippi to come into this State, and they were feeding them, and organizing all the white men into certain different clubs; and before election that there had to be a certain number of negroes killed—leading men; and if after that they found out they couldn’t carry the State that way, they was gwoine to kill enough so that they could carry the majority. He said it is a fact that that has to be done, and he said in the presence of these men, that it had to start right here in Baconsville. He said Baconsville is the leading place in the county (for the niggers, you know), and if they could be successful in killing them that they wanted to in Baconsville, they could carry the county; but the same has to be done in all the counties, that there was no way to prevent it. I told him we had some laws, and a Governor and a President. He says he didn’t belong to none o’ the clubs, and hadn’t nothing to do with it, but it would be done, shor. I says, ‘Suppose the colored men have a poll to themselves, and the white men to themselves,’ and he said, ‘It don’t make a bit o’ difference what sort o’ polls they have; it is the voting we want to stop; and these voting niggers has got to be killed. The white men has declared that the State has got to be ruled by white men again, and we have got to have just such a government as we had before the war; and when we git it, all the poor men and the niggers has got to be disfranchised, and the rich men will rule! And he tole me then that our town marshal, John Carr and Dan will certainly be killed. I asked why? and he said there was plenty of men that had plenty against them, and they would kill them _shor_. Says I, ‘Mr. Baker will I be in that number?’ he says, ‘No, I don’t know whether yo’r name is down or no, but it depends on how yo’ behave yo’self.’ He’d been drinking some, or he wouldn’t ha’ been so free to tell. Well, then I received a note the other day—a letter with my name, and specifying a dozen or more in this neighborhood that have to be killed; and _I was shor_ to be killed. Now, this is the beginning of it shor. They want to disband this company so that the Governor won’t have nothing to call on to put them down, and we can’t get no protection till the United States can send soldiers from somewhere, after we can get word to the Governor, and he can git it to Grant. They must think we’re just cowards and fools if we’ll let ’em break us up, though I’ll agree that the men ha’n’t got much fight in ’em, but I have, and I wish _they_ had,” and Captain Doc tossed a newspaper to the extreme end of the room.

“Scattered and peeled!” “Scattered and peeled!” said the Elder, as he resumed his striding about the apartment.

While these excited men thus conversed, there were borne from the street to their ears the sound of blood-curdling oaths, and shouts of “We’ll carry the State about the time we’ve killed four or five hundred of these niggers and their carpet-bag cronies.” We’ve got to have South Carolina.” “The white men have got to rule.” “This shall be a white man’s government again.”

“Just hear that chap singing,” said Marmor with a ghastly smile:

“We’re going to redeem South Carolina to-day. This is the beginning of the redemption of my Caroline.” The poor, maudlin fellow sat upon his horse near the corner of the street hard by, and improvised a lengthy political madrigal evidently to his own exquisite delight.

“I reckon you’ve got the right of it Doc,” said Marmor; “the political side of this fuss swallows up all the rest. The fuss on the Fourth, was only got up for making a spot to strike at.”

“Well,” said Doe, both goes together; for all the politics they know is to put the niggers down, and themselves up atop; and they are trying to fool the ignorant ones into believing that the constitutions has all run out, so they won’t try to take the law on ’em.”

“They’d better look out, or they may feel the law themselves. If Chamberlain can’t enforce it, there is a United States, they’ll find!”

“I reckon so! I reckon so!” chimed in all present.

“Capt. Doc,” said Elder Jackson, “you must remember that it is not your own life and your company’s lives that is in danger, but that of every colored individual in town; and the happiness and prosperity of all will be at their mercy if a fight takes place; and so I beg you to come to terms with Baker. Bend and apologize a little for the sake of them that had nothing to do with the Fourth of July difficulty.”

“What can _I_ do? Just tell me. I haven’t failed to think of that, I tell you. That part of it is the biggest trouble to me now.”

“It is Watta that has offended them the most,” said Springer; “for he got so mad last Thursday. He’s got too much white blood in him to stand their abuse, and he was nigh about as abusive as Hanson Baker himself, that day.

It was all true enough what he said, but that didn’t make it no better for them to take.”

“Now, Brother Watta, just you go, as you know you ought to, and acknowledge you ought to have kept your temper, and that’ll make the whole thing right, and Doc’ll apologize too,” said the apparently confiding Elder.

“Do you think so? Well, suppose you come along with us,” said Watta, a slight veil of credulity scarcely concealing a sarcasm that bordered upon contempt for the self-loving simplicity of the Elder. “I’d rather get on my knees to them,” he added more seriously, “bad as I hate them, than have my wife and children as scared as they are to-day. But I doubt the success of even that, unless I would give them my gun, and promise to lie there, and let them kick me when they chose, or shoot me if they like, and I’m afraid my _temper_ would rise _then_, if I didn’t.”

In defiance of fears, the men all laughed at the ludicrous picture of this tall, genteel-appearing, light yellow _gentleman_, brimful of the same “spirit” that fired some of the noblest heroes the South ever boasted of, and in whose veins coursed much of the same ancestral blood, cringing in such a pusillanimous fashion.

“It is no time for fun,” said Springer. “Will you go with _me_, Adam Watta, and see General Baker?”

“If you say you think it’ll do any good, I will go.”

“You can but perish if you go,” said Elder Jackson, who was, like many another, very courageous for his neighbors, and quite willing to bid them Godspeed in any efforts for the safety of the town, including Elder J. and his possessions.

But the men paused in the doorway. “Ask a man to run the gauntlet of all those armed and half-drunken enemies? I tell you I can’t do it; I’m not prepared to die, and I sha’n’t go. I could _fight_, but to go right into a crowd to be _murdered_, I’m not ready,” and Watta turned back. Looking out upon the constantly increasing mob, Springer did not urge him.

“I’m going to Prince Rives’s house,” said Doc, and strode out of the office and down the street.

The cry of an infant was heard in an adjoining room, followed by the sound of a rocking cradle, and the voice of the little boy singing in chanting style, “You must not cry, little sister; for the wicked men is all agoing around to kill all the little children, ‘from two years old and under,’ and they will shoot your papa, and make your mamma cry. So take this rattle and be still.”

“Louie,” called Marmor, from the office. “Don’t say such things. Nobody’ll hurt you, nor the baby. Where is your mamma?”

“She is here crying—sitting right here crying.”

“The man arose quickly, and entered the room. “Why, Jane,” said he, “what are you crying about? It will be all settled, and there’ll be no fuss.”

“Don’t you wish you could make me believe that, when you know you don’t believe it yourself? I do wish you would go away over to the city, and take the train somewhere. I know they will be after you. You know they want you killed, because you are a radical leader; and now will be their time.”

“Do you suppose I would go and leave you and the children?”

“You know you couldn’t defend us, and we don’t need it. We’re a great deal safer without you than with you. I should fret all the time for fear that you had fallen into their hands, to be sure; but I _know_ there is no chance for you to escape death if you stay here.”

Marmor returned to his office, and found that his friends had all left. He saw them approaching Rives’s house. There they found Captain Doc and the Trial Justice in earnest conversation.

“I can’t appear before your court, Judge Rives—not to-day,” said the captain; “for I feel that your court is unable to protect my life, and I believe my life is unsafe. I am willing that yo’ should go to work and draw up a bond, that yo’ think proper, and I am willing to give bonds to a higher court, where I think my life will be safe. The reason I come to yo’ to tell yo’, is because I don’t want yo’ to suppose that I treat yo’r court with no disrespect by not coming; but it is because I don’t think my life is safe.”

The Justice reflected.

“Well, you must use your own judgment,” said he. “Of course, if your life is unsafe, and if these men intend to take your life, of course, I can’t protect you. I haven’t protection enough to protect you; my constables can’t do much!”

“That is my belief,” replied Doc, “and for that reason I don’t want to go befo’ yo’r court without yo’ force me to; and then if I am killed, yo’ will be responsible.”

“You can use your own judgment, Captain. I shall go to court at the proper time. Your name, of course, will be called, and if you don’t answer to your name—well, _you won’t be there to answer_. It’s a pity but this thing couldn’t be settled without going to court. I’m afraid once at the court room it will be impossible to get along without trouble.”

“Well, I want it settled,” said Doc. “And I,” “And I,” said the two Lieutenants.

“Well, then, suppose I go for you, and ask what will give satisfaction,” said Springer.

“All right,” was the ready response from all.

Mr. Springer met Judge Kanrasp coming down the street, from his interview with the General, and each communicated the message he bore, and thought the best thing for the safety of the town, was to get the parties together with the crowd excluded.

“Who is to take the guns?” asked Mr. Springer.

“I don’t know. The Governor, I suppose. If not, that may alter the case.”

“If Gen. Baker will guarantee the safety of the men, I believe they will be safe, but he should guarantee the safety of the town also.”

“So say I,” replied Judge Kanrasp, and each passed on his errand.

Judge K. reported to the officers only Gen. Baker’s request for an interview, and withheld his proposition for a settlement.

Soon Mr. Springer returned with the same request from the General. They all approached the door, and Doc went out upon the street, but re-entered immediately.

“There is no one more readier than I am to settle, but I see a great crowd down there at Dunn’s store, all armed, and drunk, or playing off drunk. Springer, yo’ tell Gen. Baker that I would meet him, but that I would like for him to come away from where them men are, and that I am willing to meet him at yo’r house, if that is agreeable.”

The aspect of things became more gloomy very soon. A company of twenty-five or thirty thoroughly-armed and mounted men had entered the village some time before, since which squads had been seen coming in from all directions.

Several leading citizens had joined the group at Rives’s house, and all united in urging the officers to comply with Gen. Baker’s request; but they were more and more reluctant to go, fearing it was only a ruse to decoy them there, secure, disarm, and then murder them.

The suspicion was but natural, as similar transactions had been far from rare since reconstruction. At length, after it had been reported that Gen. Baker had sworn to lay the town in ashes if they did not comply with his demands, all the members of the company again consented to go, but on approaching the door, fell back again.

“You must go to save the town,” said Springer; “but don’t take your guns.”

“We won’t go without them,” said all the men.

“But he’ll make a demand for their surrender. Better leave them behind.”

“Yes, that is just it,” said Watta. “You men have been keeping that back. Why should we go to General Baker? Why doesn’t he come to us if he wants to see us? There are no drunken rowdies here for him to fear. Two men drove into our ranks, an organized a legally chartered company of the State militia, with loyal guns in our loyal hands, and a flag which brought us freedom from these old masters—the right to stand up like men, and not fear their nigger-catching blood-hounds; and we have sworn to be true to that flag—to the United States, and to the State, and ourselves, and to take care of these guns that belong to the State, and to yield them up only to lawful authority. These two nigger-catchers whose occupation is gone, drove into our ranks; and we, like a set of cowards, opened ranks and let them go through; and now they bring this ex-confederate General, who got the only title he has and of which he and they are so proud, in fighting the United States; they bring this General Baker here, and he asks us to go down to old Baker’s feet and apologize—for what? _I_ don’t know; and to give up our guns that we have sworn to protect from all enemies of the Union, and all unauthorized persons—to give them to this ex-confederate General, who boasts to-day, and is applauded by these, his old confederate soldiers around him to-day, for what he did against the Government. _He_, surrounded by those who love and revere him for what he did to destroy the Union and keep us and our parents and children in slavery—he demands our guns and ourselves! Pretty _National Guards_!! Which are we, men, cowards or traitors?”

“Don’t take your guns, and may be possible you can get along without giving the guns up. I surely don’t want you to be traitors,” said the Elder; “but I trust an apology will do.”

“And I trust no such thing,” said Doc. “And where shall we be after this, living or dead? It won’t make much difference. They want to break us up! that’s it—and enslave us!”

“Where shall we be? On our knees forever at their feet,” replied Watta; “that is, if a single man of us ever got away alive, which I’ll warrant we never should if we refused to give up our guns.”

“But remember, there’ll be bloodshed if you don’t go,” said Elder Jackson. “Better humble yourselves than be killed.”

“And remember, too, the women and children, and the property,” added Springer.

“You men is mighty thoughtful; suppose yo’ ’go yo’selves. ’Twouldn’t be no blood shed if _they_ got killed, I reckon yo’ think,” said a man from the ranks.

They had retired to an upper room, and Kanrasp approached a window looking towards Dunn’s store. Doc followed, and then Watta, and then others.

Still more armed men were seen coming into the town, and the mob around the General’s headquarters was more dense and disorderly.

“You all know that it would be only my dead body that would ever leave that place, if I went there,” said Watta. “I should be riddled with bullets in no time. Those men standing outside of that groggery are thirsting for my blood this minute.”

“I have known Gen. Baker for several years, and I believe he is an honorable man, and he will protect you,” said Judge K——.

“An honorable man?” repeated Watta. “‘An honorable man’ he may be when dealing with those he acknowledges his equals, if there are any such; but I am ‘only a nigger’ (baring his yellow arm to his elbow.) “Honor? He’ll ventilate no honor when a nigger or politics is concerned. I don’t mean any disrespect to you, Judge; but Gen. Baker doesn’t hold the same views about colored people that you do, as you know.”

“Well, I’m going,” said the First Lieutenant, “and I talked as bad as any of you on the Fourth. I’ll apologize.”

“But they hate me more than all the rest of you,” resumed Watta, still inspecting his bare arm. “I’m nearer their color, and the best thing they can say of a man of my complexion is that he’s a smart fellow, but needs watching. And they do watch us, and they magnify everything we do or say, and misconstrue it, and lie about us. And then you know I’m that heinous offender—a ‘nigger school teacher, and a Republican newspaper correspondent.’ Why, Gen. Baker _can’t protect me_. I should be shot a dozen times before he knew I was coming. And then he’d regret it. That wouldn’t do me much good, nor my family. I tell you it is only a trap, a decoy, to get us up there and massacre us. If they kill me, they must come after me, I a’n’t fool enough to go to them to get shot.”

“If the General could get shet of them armed men, would you go?” asked Springer.

“Yes, certainly.”

“Then, I’ll try if he will go to my house,” and he slipped cautiously out of the dwelling, for the whites thought the officers were in the Armory, and he did not wish to undeceive them.

He was successful on his mission, and soon returned; but the officers had seen the shouting throng surround and follow their General, and as the streets were rife with warlike menaces, _all_ now utterly refused to go to a house so near Dunn’s store and the main crowd.

“See! see!” they exclaimed. “They are coming down the street to meet us! Gen. Baker can’t protect us!” All of which Springer could not dispute, so he sadly returned to Gen. Baker, who, on his approaching, called out:

“I suppose you couldn’t get those fellows to meet me?”

“No, General, they are too afraid of these armed bodies of men you have around you. That is the only reason.”

“Armed men? armed men? I don’t see any armed men!” and that military dignitary rolled his eyes about as if in pantomime. “Well Sam, there’s no use parleying any longer. Now, by —— I want those guns, and I’ll be —— if I don’t have them!”

A movement of expectancy swayed the throng as these words were heard and passed from lip to lip, and then a shout rent the air.

Mr. Springer wended his way back through the crowd of men on horseback, and men on foot, whose fingers fidgeted upon the triggers of their firearms, and he sought the house of Justice Rives with a heavier heart than he had ever borne before; while General Baker entered his carriage again, as the hour for court drew near.