"Yes, a few bills to pay and a few letters to write." "That will answer. Have your baggage ready, and let it be compact as possible. I'll call for you at your room at quarter to nine. Vance goes with us.” "Is it possible? I supposed him an ultra Secessionist." "He has a stronger personal cause than even you to strike at slavery." "Can that be? Well, he shall find me no tame ally. Do you know, Charles, you resemble him personally?" "Yes, there's good reason for it. We are cousins." Onslow's heart was too full to comment on the reply. He took up the strands of hair, kissed them fervently, and placed them with his father's letter in a little silk watch-bag, which he pinned inside of his vest just over his heart. "If ever my new faith should falter," he said, "here are the mementos that will revive it. God! Did I need all this for my reformation ? " "Be firm,―be prudent, my friend," said Kenrick. now good by till we meet again." "And Onslow pressed Kenrick's proffered hand, and replied, “You shall find me punctual." CHAPTER XXXV. V THE COMMITTEE ADJOURNS. "Why now, blow, wind; swell, billow; and swim, bark! ANCE'S plan was to escape down the river in his little steam-tug, and join some one of the blockading fleet of the United States, either at Pass à l'Outre or at the Balize. The unexpected accession of two fellow-fugitives led him to postpone his departure from the St. Charles to nine o'clock. His own and Kenrick's baggage had been providently put on board the Artful Dodger the day before. Winslow, in order not to jeopard any of the proceedings, had accepted Vance's offer to get from the latter's supply whatever articles of apparel he might need. At ten minutes before nine, the four fugitives met in Vance's room. Vance and Onslow grasped each other by the hand. That silent pressure conveyed to each more than words could ever have told. The sympathy between them was at once profound and complete. "The negro who is to drive us," said Vance, "is the man to whom your father confided his last messages." "Ah!" exclaimed Onslow; "let me be with him. Let me learn from him all I can!" Vance told him he should ride on the outside with Peek. Then turning to Winslow, he said: "Those white locks of yours are somewhat too conspicuous. Do me the favor to hide them under this black wig." The disguise was promptly carried into effect. At nine o'clock Vance put his head out of the window. A rain-storm had set in, but he could see by the gas-lights the glistening top of a carriage, and he could hear the stamping of horses. "All right," said he. "Peek is punctually on the spot. Does that carpet-bag contain all your baggage, Mr. Onslow?” "Yes, and I can dispense with even this, if you desire it.” "You have learnt one of the first arts of the soldier, I see," said Vance. "There can be no harm in your taking that amount. Now let me frankly tell you what I conceive to be our chief, if not our only hazard. My venerable friend, here, Winslow, was compelled, a few hours since, in the discharge of his duty, to give very dire offence to Mr. Carberry Ratcliff, of whom we all have heard. Knowing the man as I do, I am of opinion that his first step on parting with our friend would be to put spies on his track, with the view of preventing his departure or concealment. Mr. Winslow thinks Ratcliff could not have had time to do this. Perhaps; but there's a chance my venerable friend is mistaken, and against that contingency I wish to be on my guard. You see I take in my hand this lasso, and this small cylindrical piece of wood, padded with india-rubber at either end. Three of us, I presume, have revolvers; but I hope we shall have no present use for them. You, Mr. Winslow, will go first and enter the carriage; Kenrick and I will follow at ten or a dozen paces, and you, Onslow, will bring up the rear. In your soldier's overcoat, and with your carpet-bag, it will be supposed you are merely going out to pass the night at the armory." While this conversation was going on, Peek had dismounted from the driver's seat. He had taken the precaution to cover both the horses and the carriage with oil-cloth, apparently as a protection against the rain, but really to prevent an identification. No sooner had his feet touched the side-walk, than a man carrying a bludgeon stepped up to him and said, "Whose turn-out have you here, darkey?" "Dis am massa's turn-out, an' nobody else's, sure," said Peek, disguising his voice. "Well, who's massa ?” "Massa's de owner ob dis carriage. dry up, ole feller!" Thar, yer 'v got it. So The inquirer tried to roll up the oil-cloth to get a sight of the panel. Peek interposed, telling him to stand off. The man raised his bludgeon and threatened to strike. Peek's first impulse was to disarm him and choke him into silence, but, fearing the least noise might bring other officers to the spot, he prudently abstained. Just at this moment, Winslow issued from the side door of the hotel, and was about to enter the carriage, when the detective who had succeeded in rolling up the covering of the panel till he could see the coat-of-arms, politely stopped the old man, and begged permission to look at him closely by the gaslight, remarking that he had orders from head-quarters to arrest a certain suspected party. "Pooh! Everybody in New Orleans knows me," said Winslow. "I can't help that, sir," said the detective, laying his hand on the old man's shoulder, "I must insist on your letting Before the speaker could finish his sentence, his arms were pinioned from behind by a lasso, and he was jerked back so as to lose his balance. But one articulation escaped from his lips, and that was half smothered in his throat. “O'Gorman!" he cried, calling to one of his companions; but before he could repeat the cry, a gag was inserted in his mouth, and he was lifted into the carriage and there held with a power that speedily taught him how useless was resistance. Kenrick made Peek and Onslow acquainted, and these two sprang on to the driver's seat. The rest of the party took their places inside. thrusting Onslow down on The next moment a pistol whiz of a bullet over their "Down! down!" cried Peek, his knees and starting the horses. was discharged, and there was the heads. But the horses had now found out what was wanted of them, and they showed their blood by trotting at a two-fifty speed along St. Charles Street. Peek was an accomplished driver. That very afternoon he had learnt where the steam-tug lay, and had gone over the route in order to be sure of no obstructions. He now at first took a direction away from the river to deceive pursuit. Then winding through several obscure streets, he came upon the avenue running parallel with the Levee, and proceeded for nearly two miles till he drew near that part of the river where the Artful Dodger, with steam all up, was moored against the extensive embankment, from the top of which you can look down on the floor of the Crescent City, lying several feet below the river's level. The rain continued to pour furiously, each drop swelling to the size of a big arrow-head before reaching the earth. It was not unusual to see carriages driven at great speed through the streets during such an elementary turmoil: else the policemen or soldiers would have tried to stop Peek in his headlong career. Probably they had most of them got under some shelter, and did not care to come out to expose themselves to a drenching. On and on rolled the carriage. The rain seemed to drown all noises, so that the occupants could not tell whether or no there was a trampling of horses in pursuit. As the carriage passed on to a macadmized section of the road, "Tell me," said Onslow, "what happened after my father gave you the letter?” I hardly had time to conceal it,” replied Peek, "when six of the ruffians entered the room, and I was ordered out. I pleaded hard to stay, but 't was no use. The house was entirely surrounded by armed men, ready to shoot down any one attempting to escape. Your father had enjoined it upon me that I should leave him to die rather than myself run the risk of not reaching you with his letter and his messages." "Did he?" cried Onslow. "Was he, then, more anxious that I should know all, than that he himself should escape?" "He feared life more than death after what had happened," said Peek. "The six ruffians tried to get out of him words to implicate certain supposed Union men in the neighborhood; but he would tell no secrets. He obstinately resisted their orders and threats, and at last their leader, in a rage, thrust his sword into the old man's lungs. The wound did not immediately kill; but the loss of blood seemed likely to make him faint. Fearing he would balk them in their last revenge, the ruffians dragged him out to a tree and hung him.” “Did you see it done?” "I saw him the moment after it was done. I had been trying to satisfy myself that there was no life in your mother's body; and it was not till I heard the shouts of the crowd that I learnt what was going on below. I ran out, but your father was already dead. He died, I learnt, without a struggle, much to the disappointment of the Rebels." "And my mother," asked Onslow. "Was there any hope?" |