Читать книгу The Sins of the Father - Jr. Thomas Dixon - Страница 12
THE ARREST
ОглавлениеThe time had come in Norton's fight when he was about to be put to a supreme test.
The Governor was preparing the most daring and sensational movement of his never-to-be-forgotten administration. The audacity and thoroughness with which the Klan had disarmed and made ridiculous his army of fifty thousand negroes was at first a stunning blow. In vain Schlitz stormed and pleaded for National aid.
"You must ask for Federal troops without a moment's delay," he urged desperately.
The Scalawag shook his head with quiet determination.
"Congress, under the iron rule of Stevens, will send them, I grant you——"
"Then why hesitate?"
"Because their coming would mean that I have been defeated on my own soil, that my administration of the state is a failure."
"Well, isn't it?"
"No; I'll make good my promises to the men in Washington who have backed me. They are preparing to impeach the President, remove him from office and appoint a dictator in his stead. I'll show them that I can play my part in the big drama, too. I am going to deliver this state bound hand and foot into their hands, with a triumphant negro electorate in the saddle, or I'll go down in ignominious defeat."
"You'll go down, all right—without those troops—mark my word," cried the Carpetbagger.
"All right, I'll go down flying my own flag."
"You're a fool!" Schlitz roared. "Union troops are our only hope!"
His Excellency kept his temper. The little ferret eyes beneath their bushy brows were drawn to narrow lines as he slowly said:
"On the other hand, my dear Schlitz, I don't think I could depend on Federal troops if they were here."
"No?" was the indignant sneer.
"Frankly I do not," was the even answer. "Federal officers have not shown themselves very keen about executing the orders of Reconstruction Governors. They have often pretended to execute them and in reality treated us with contempt. They hold, in brief, that they fought to preserve the Union, not to make negroes rule over white men! The task before us is not to their liking. I don't trust them for a moment. I have a better plan——"
"What?"
"I propose to raise immediately an army of fifty thousand loyal white men, arm and drill them without delay——"
"Where'll you get them?" Schlitz cried incredulously.
"I'll find them if I have to drag the gutters for every poor white scamp in the state. They'll be a tough lot, maybe, but they'll make good soldiers. A soldier is a man who obeys orders, draws his pay, and asks no questions——"
"And then what?"
"And then, sir!—-"
The Governor's leathery little face flushed as he sprang to his feet and paced the floor of his office in intense excitement.
"I'll tell you what then!" Schlitz cried with scorn.
The pacing figure paused and eyed his tormentor, lifting his shaggy brows:
"Yes?"
"And then," the Carpetbagger answered, "the Ku Klux Klan will rise in a night, jump on your mob of ragamuffins, take their guns and kick them back into the gutter."
"Perhaps," the Governor said, musingly, "if I give them a chance! But I won't!"
"You won't? How can you prevent it?"
"Very simply. I'll issue a proclamation suspending the writ of habeas corpus——"
"But you have no right," Schlitz gasped. The ex-scullion had been studying law the past two years and aspired to the Supreme Court bench.
"My right is doubtful, but it will go in times of revolution. I'll suspend the writ, arrest the leaders of the Klan without warrant, put them in jail and hold them there without trial until the day after the election."
Schlitz's eyes danced as he sprang forward and extended his fat hand to the Scalawag:
"Governor, you're a great man! Only a great mind would dare such a plan. But do you think your life will be safe?"
The little figure was drawn erect and the ferret eyes flashed:
"The Governor of a mighty commonwealth—they wouldn't dare lift their little finger against me."
Schlitz shook his head dubiously.
"A pretty big job in times of peace—to suspend the civil law, order wholesale arrests without warrants by a ragged militia and hold your men without trial——"
"I like the job!" was the quick answer. "I'm going to show the smart young man who edits the paper in this town that he isn't running the universe."
Again the adventurer seized the hand of his chief:
"Governor, you're a great man! I take my hat off to you, sir."
His Excellency smiled, lifted his sloping shoulders, moistened his thin lips and whispered:
"Not a word now to a living soul until I strike——"
"I understand, sir, not a word," the Carpetbagger replied in low tones as he nervously fumbled his hat and edged his way out of the room.
The editor received the Governor's first move in the game with contempt. It was exactly what he had expected—this organization of white renegades, thieves, loafers, cut-throats, and deserters. It was the last resort of desperation. Every day, while these dirty ignorant recruits were being organized and drilled, he taunted the Governor over the personnel of his "Loyal" army. He began the publication of the history of its officers and men. These biographical stories were written with a droll humor that kept the whole state in a good-humored ripple of laughter and inspired the convention that nominated a complete white man's ticket to renewed enthusiasm.
And then the bolt from the blue—the Governor's act of supreme madness!
As the editor sat at his desk writing an editorial congratulating the state on the brilliant ticket that the white race had nominated and predicting its triumphant election, in spite of negroes, thieves, cut-throats, Scalawags and Carpetbaggers, a sudden commotion on the sidewalk in front of his office stopped his pencil in the midst of an unfinished word.
He walked to the window and looked out. By the flickering light of the street lamp he saw an excited crowd gathering in the street.
A company of the Governor's new guard had halted in front. An officer ripped off the palings from the picket fence beside the building and sent a squad of his men to the rear.
The tramp of heavy feet on the stairs was heard and the dirty troopers crowded into the editor's room, muskets in hand, cocked, and their fingers on the triggers.
Norton quietly drew the pencil from his ear, smiled at the mottled group of excited men, and spoke in his slow drawl:
"And why this excitement, gentlemen?"
The captain stepped forward:
"Are you Major Daniel Norton?"
"I am, sir."
"You're my prisoner."
"Show your warrant!" was the quick challenge.
"I don't need one, sir."
"Indeed! And since when is this state under martial law?"
"Will you go peaceable?" the captain asked roughly.
"When I know by whose authority you make this arrest."
The editor walked close to the officer, drew himself erect, his hands clenched behind his back and held the man's eye for a moment with a cold stare.
The captain hesitated and drew a document from his pocket.
The editor scanned it hastily and suddenly turned pale:
"A proclamation suspending the writ of habeas corpus—impossible!"
The captain lifted his dirty palms:
"I reckon you can read!"
"Oh, yes, I can read it, captain—still it's impossible. You can't suspend the law of gravitation by saying so on a scrap of paper——"
"You are ready to go?"
The editor laughed:
"Certainly, certainly—with pleasure, I assure you."
The captain lifted his hand and his men lowered their guns. The editor seized a number of blank writing pads, a box of pencils, put on his hat and called to his assistants:
"I'm moving my office temporarily to the county jail, boys. It's quieter over there. I can do better work. Send word to my home that I'm all right and tell my wife not to worry for a minute. Every man to his post now and the liveliest paper ever issued! And on time to the minute."
The printers had crowded into the room and a ringing cheer suddenly startled the troopers.
The foreman held an ugly piece of steel in his hand and every man seemed to have hold of something.
"Give the word, chief!" the foreman cried.
The editor smiled:
"Thanks, boys, I understand. Go back to your work. You can help best that way."
The men dropped their weapons and crowded to the door, jeering and howling in derision at the awkward squad as they stumbled down the stairs after their commander, who left the building holding tightly to the editor's arm, as if at any moment he expected an escape or a rescue.
The procession wended its way to the jail behind the Court House through a crowd of silent men who merely looked at the prisoner, smiled and nodded to him over the heads of his guard.
An ominous quiet followed the day's work. The Governor was amazed at the way his sensational coup was received. He had arrested and thrown into jail without warrant the leaders of the white party in every county in the state. He was absolutely sure that these men were the leaders of the Ku Klux Klan, the one invisible but terrible foe he really feared.
He had expected bluster, protests, mass meetings and fiery resolutions. Instead his act was received with a silence that was uncanny. In vain his Carpetbagger lieutenant congratulated him on the success of his Napoleonic move.
His little ferret eyes snapped with suppressed excitement.
"But what the devil is the meaning of this silence, Schlitz?" he asked with a tremor.
"They're stunned, I tell you. It was a master stroke. They're a lot of cowards and sneaks, these night raiders, anyhow. It only took a bold act of authority to throw them into a panic."
The Scalawag shook his head thoughtfully:
"Doesn't look like a panic to me—I'm uneasy——"
"The only possible mistake you've made was the arrest of Norton."
"Yes, I know public sentiment in the North don't like an attempt to suppress free speech, but I simply had to do it. Damn him, I've stood his abuse as long as I'm going to. Besides his dirty sheet is at the bottom of all our trouble."
When the Governor scanned his copy of the next morning's Eagle and Phoenix his feeling of uneasiness increased.
Instead of the personal abuse he had expected from the young firebrand, he read a long, carefully written editorial reviewing the history of the great writ of habeas corpus in the evolution of human freedom. The essay closed with the significant statement that no Governor in the records of the state or the colony had ever dared to repeal or suspend this guarantee of Anglo-Saxon liberty—not even for a moment during the chaos of the Civil War.
But the most disquieting feature of this editorial was the suggestive fact that it was set between heavy mourning lines and at the bottom of it stood a brief paragraph enclosed in even heavier black bands:
"We regret to announce that the state is at present without a chief executive. Our late unlamented Governor passed away in a fit of insanity at three o'clock yesterday."
When the little Scalawag read the sarcastic obituary he paled for a moment and the hand which held the paper trembled so violently he was compelled to lay it on the table to prevent his secretary from noting his excitement.
For the first time in the history of the state an armed guard was stationed at the door of the Governor's mansion that night.
The strange calm continued. No move was made by the negroid government to bring the imprisoned men to trial and apparently no effort was being made by the men inside the jails to regain their liberty.
Save that his editorials were dated from the county jail, no change had occurred in the daily routine of the editor's life. He continued his series of articles on the history of the state each day, setting them in heavy black mourning lines. Each of these editorials ended with an appeal to the patriotism of the reader. And the way in which he told the simple story of each step achieved in the blood-marked struggle for liberty had a punch in it that boded ill for the little man who had set himself the task of dictatorship for a free people.
No reference was made in the Eagle and Phoenix to the Governor. He was dead. The paper ignored his existence. Each day of this ominous peace among his enemies increased the terror which had gripped the little Scalawag from the morning he had read his first obituary. The big black rules down the sides of those editorials seemed a foot wide now when he read them.
Twice he seated himself at his desk to order the editor's release and each time cringed and paused at the thought of the sneers with which his act would be greeted. He was now between the devil and the deep sea. He was afraid to retreat and dared not take the next step forward. If he could hold his ground for two weeks longer, and carry the election by the overwhelming majority he had planned, all would be well. Such a victory, placing him in power for four years and giving him an obedient negro Legislature once more to do his bidding, would strike terror to his foes and silence their assaults. The negro voters far outnumbered the whites, and victory was a certainty. And so he held his ground—until something happened!
It began in a semi-tropical rain storm that swept the state. All day it poured in blinding torrents, the wind steadily rising in velocity until at noon it was scarcely possible to walk the streets.
At eight o'clock the rain ceased to fall and by nine glimpses of the moon could be seen as the fast flying clouds parted for a moment. But for these occasional flashes of moonlight the night was pitch dark. The Governor's company of nondescript soldiers in camp at the Capitol, drenched with rain, had abandoned their water-soaked tents for the more congenial atmosphere of the low dives and saloons of the negro quarters.
The minute the rain ceased to fall, Norton's wife sent his supper—but to-night by a new messenger. Cleo smiled at him across the little table as she skillfully laid the cloth, placed the dishes and set a tiny vase of roses in the center.
"You see," she began, smiling, "your wife needed me and I'm working at your house now, major."
"Indeed!"
"Yes. Mammy isn't well and I help with the baby. He's a darling. He loved me the minute I took him in my arms and hugged him."
"No doubt."
"His little mother likes me, too. I can pick her up in my arms and carry her across the room. You wouldn't think I'm so strong, would you?"
"Yes—I would," he answered slowly, studying her with a look of increasing wonder at her audacity.
"You're not mad at me for being there, are you? You can't be—mammy wants me so"—she paused—"Lordy, I forgot the letter!"
She drew from her bosom a note from his wife. He looked curiously at a smudge where it was sealed and, glancing at the girl who was busy with the tray, opened and read:
"I have just received a message from MacArthur's daughter that your life is to be imperilled to-night by a dangerous raid. Remember your helpless wife and baby. Surely there are trusted men who can do such work. You have often told me that no wise general ever risks his precious life on the firing line. You are a soldier, and know this. Please, dearest, do not go. Baby and little mother both beg of you!"
Norton looked at Cleo again curiously. He was sure that the seal of this note had been broken and its message read by her.
"Do you know what's in this note, Cleo?" he asked sharply.
"No, sir!" was the quick answer.
He studied her again closely. She was on guard now. Every nerve alert, every faculty under perfect control. He was morally sure she was lying and yet it could only be idle curiosity or jealous interest in his affairs that prompted the act. That she should be an emissary of the Governor was absurd.
"It's not bad news, I hope?" she asked with an eagerness that was just a little too eager. The man caught the false note and frowned.
"No," he answered carelessly. "It's of no importance." He picked up a pad and wrote a hurried answer:
"Don't worry a moment, dear. I am not in the slightest danger. I know a soldier's duty and I'll not forget it. Sleep soundly, little mother and baby mine!"
He folded the sheet of paper and handed it to her without sealing it. She was watching him keenly. His deep, serious eyes no longer saw her. His body was there, but the soul was gone. The girl had never seen him in this mood. She was frightened. His life was in danger. She knew it now by an unerring instinct. She would watch the jail and see what happened. She might do something to win his friendship, and then—the rest would be easy. Her hand trembled as she took the note.
"Give this to Mrs. Norton at once," he said, "and tell her you found me well and happy in my work."
"Yes, sir," the soft voice answered mechanically as she picked up the tray and left the room watching him furtively.
