Read Ebook: The Continental Monthly Vol III Issue VI June 1863 Devoted to Literature and National Policy by Various

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Ebook has 864 lines and 87967 words, and 18 pages

'For himself!'

'Yas; he's got a couple now. He's a sly old fox; but he's one on 'em.'

'Is he willing to pay eighty-two hundred dollars for a mistress?'

'Wall, Preston owes him a debt, an' he reckons 'tain't wuth a hill o' beans. Thet's th' amount uv it.'

Thus the wrong of the father was to be atoned for by the dishonor of the child! Preston was right: the curse which followed his sin had fallen on all he loved--on his wife, his mistress, the octoroon girl, his manly, noble son; and now, the cloud which held the thunderbolt was hovering over the head of his best-loved child! And so He visiteth 'the sins of the fathers upon the children!'

'But he is wrong! Preston's estate will pay its debts. If it does not, Joe will make good the deficiency, I will guarantee Hallet's claim. See him, and tell him so.'

'He hain't yere, an' woan't be yere. He allers fights shy. An' 'twouldn't be uv no use. He's made up his mind to hev th' gal, an' hev har he will. He's come all th' way from Orleans ter make sure uv it.'

'Scoundrel's a hard word, Mr. Kirke. 'Tain't used much round yere; when it ar, it draws blood like a lancet.'

'I mean no offence to you, Larkin; but it's true--I will prove it;' and I went on to detail my early acquaintance with Hallet; his vast profession and small performance of piety; his betrayal of Frank's mother; his treatment of his son, and all the damning record I have spread before the reader.

As I talked, Larkin rose, and walked the room, evidently affected; but, when I concluded, he said:

'Why, he an' ole Roye ar tergether. The' find th' money fur my bis'ness--done it fur fifteen yar. The' git th' biggest sheer, but I karn't help myself, I went inter cotton, like a d--d fool, 'bout a yar ago, an' lost all I hed--every red cent; an' now I shud be on my beam ends ef it warn't fur them.'

'Then Hallet has made his money dealing in negroes!'

'Yes, you could. Come North. I'll give you honest work to do.'

'You're a gentleman, Mr. Kirke, an' I'm 'bliged ter ye; but I karn't leave yere. I've got a wife an' chil'ren, an' the' wouldn't live 'mong ye abolitionists, nohow.'

'You have a wife and children?'

'Yas'; a wife, an' two as likely young 'uns as ye ever seed--boy 'bout seven, an' gal 'bout twelve.'

He seated himself, and hung down his head, but made no reply.

'Answer me, like the honest man you are.'

'Wall, I reckon I shud.'

I rose, and stood before him. In a few moments he also rose, and, looking me squarely in the eye--there was a tear in his--he brought his hand down upon mine with a concussion that might have been heard a mile off, and said:

'No, I'm d--d ter h--ef I kin.'

'You are a splendid, noble fellow, Larkin.'

'Ye're 'bout th' fust man thet ever said so, Mr. Kirke. Ye told me suthin' like thet nigh on ter twelve yar ago. I hain't forgot it yit, an' I never shill.'

'You're rough on the outside, Larkin, but sound at the core--sound as a nut. I wish the world had more like you. Leave this wretched work!'

'I'd like ter, but I karn't. What kin a feller do, with neither money nor friends?'

'Get into some honest business. I know you can. I'll help you--Joe will help you. We'll talk things over to-night, and I know Joe will rig out something for you.'

He remained seated for a while, saying nothing; then he rose, and, the moisture dimming his eyes, said:

As we passed into the parlor, I said to Joe, who was seated there with Selma:

'Give Larkin your hand, Joe; he's a glorious fellow.'

'I knows it would, Joe, an' I wus ter blame; but I never could stand a bluff.'

We passed out together to the auction stand. Selma and her brother ascended the block, while Larkin and I mingled with the buyers, who had collected in even larger numbers than before. The auctioneer brought down his hammer:

The word was unfinished; the hammer was descending, when a voice called out:

'Two thousand!'

'Whose bid is that?' cried Joe, striding across the bench, the glare of a hyena in his eyes.

'Mine, sir!' said the man, with a look of sudden surprise. His face was shaded by a broad-brimmed Panama hat, and his hair and whiskers were dyed, but there was no mistaking his large, eagle nose, his sharp, pointed chin, and his rat-trap of a mouth. It was Hallet! Springing upon a bench near by, I cried out:

'John Hallet, withdraw that bid, or your time has come! I warn you. You cannot leave this place alive!'

He gave me a quick, startled look--the look of a thief caught in the act--but said nothing.

'Who is he?' cried a dozen voices.

'A Yankee nigger-trader! A man that seduced and murdered the woman who should have been his wife; that cast out and starved his own child, and now would debauch this poor girl, who is to marry his only son!'

'If you allow him to bid here, you are as bad as he,' I continued, unintentionally fanning the growing excitement.

'Wall, we woan't.' 'Pitch inter him!' 'Douse him in th' pond!' 'Ride him on a rail!' 'Give him a coat uv tar!' and a hundred similar exclamations rose from the crowd, which swayed toward the obnoxious man with a quick, tumultuous motion.

'He'm in de darky trade; leff de darkies handle him!' cried Ally, seizing Hallet by the collar, and dragging him toward the pond.

The face of the great merchant turned ghastly pale. Paralyzed with fear, he made no resistance.

Pressing rapidly through the crowd, and tossing Ally aside as if he had been a bundle of feathers, Larkin was at Hallet's side in an instant. Planting himself before him, and drawing his revolver, he cried out:

'Far play, gentlemen, far play. He's a cowardly scoundrel, but he shill hev far play, or my name ain't Jake Larkin!'

Instinctively the crowd fell back a few paces, and Larkin, with more coolness, continued:

'No--I--didn't know I was--giving offence,' stammered Hallet, looking in the direction in which Larkin's eyes were turned.

Selma had taken the auctioneer's chair, and Joe stood, with folded arms, glaring on Hallet.

'Come, Joe,' continued Larkin, 'I've done ye a good turn ter-day. Let him off, an' put it ter my 'count.'

'As you say, Larkin; but he must withdraw his bid, and leave the ground at once.'

'I withdraw it, sir,' said Hallet, in a cringing tone, clinging fast to the negro trader.

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