No Good Deed 76

Miss Pardoner looked quite shocked. I wondered how much silver could be borne away from the Mint in such circumstances. Still there was nothing for it but to inform Garroway that , as he might have put it 'it made no never mind and the business of the state would be done no matter what.' Moreover, I wished to be out of the stifling fug of the parlour and the house itself.

Outside, I was struck once more by the relative state of the stables and the other barn-like buildings. These last were missing slates in large degree. Not one door successfully filled a frame and the empty windows allowed all of nature's furies to enter at will. I could not say that I was greatly surprised that these three out-buildings turned out to be the the slave-quarters. We all four, including Ishmael, entered the nearest edifice to the bonfire of furniture. At first glance, it appeared that the Master of Molasses had understated the seriousness of the situation. The single, long room contained a pot-bellied stove which looked as though it had remained unlit since it had lost one of its supporting legs. The unpainted metal marking its absence was as rusted as a discarded horseshoe-nail. There were over fifty bunk-beds and, though night had fallen, barely ten were occupied. There were two youngish men of less than thirty years that I could see. Each was in the midst of a racking fit of coughing, which suggested that neither would see their fourth decade's beginning.

The remaining beds contained suckling mothers and slaves past their sixtieth year. One old woman moanded incessantly, calling by turns for Moses and the Lord and petitioning for deliverance. I could not help but think that it would not be long in coming. No bed, however, empty or occupied, enjoyed the benefit of linen, the sick and the old were covered by fragments of threadbare carpet or moth-devoured horse-blankets. I made a pretence of counting these less than able-bodied assets, but Garroway must have seen something in my face,

'Yaller Fever, suh,' he said. 'Done buried 200 hunnert slaves in two months, 'bout fifty run. Prob'ly died in the swamps.'

He heaved his round shoulders, and attempted to straighten his back.

'T'aint no never mind, suh, I gotta horse.'

A visit to the remaining dormitories gave me a count of 23 nursing mothers, 8 adult males between 60 and 70, 6 younger adult males who would not last the week and 25 women past child-bearing age but not yet in their dotage. Age was ascertained by appearance, as few were able to offer an age to within less than a decade, referring mainly to events long past in the history of the Plantation, to which events Garroway would not, or could not, supply a year of the Christian calendar. I asked him why he remained at Molasses, to which he repeated his watchwords,

'I gotta horse.'

Miss Pardoner raised a finger and pointed to the exterior.

'I find I need some fresh air,' she said.

Ishmael naturally made to follow her out of the door. I bade him keep our host company, although he stood motionless, day-dreaming of winning some prize atop the beautiful black stallion, which was all that remained of his fortune. For myself, I took Miss Pardoner by the elbow and escorted her to the stables, thinking that the cool of the night might be better borne in the only building on the whole plantation which seemed entire and intact. Of course, but one stall was occupied within. The black beast rolled its eyes at us as it stamped, pawed and kicked in rage at his confinement.

'Magnificent!' My companion said.

'Magnificent folly, as are many obsessions, Ellen.'

She made no direct reply, merely saying,

'Well, Moffat, a pretty situation. What do you propose?'

'We cannot move much silver bullion with bodies such as these.'

She bit her lip and looked downward at the dirty straw. When she opened her mouth to speak I held up my hand.

'Do not demean yourself, woman. I'll not risk hanging for some half-sick women and decrepit old men.'

Her eyes narrowed and her lips grew thin and for the first time I saw how she would look in extreme old age. Bitter and alone. It must have been the only time I didn't feel the old urges in her presence.

'There will be others, do not worry. We are to meet with others between here and the mint. You will get your 30 pieces of silver!'

I was reminded of the hissing and spitting of a cat.

The least infirm of the thirty year old men gave his name as Compair Lapin. I remarked it seemed a strange name for a slave. He, in turn, observed that a man had a right to his own name, whatever a slave-owner called him. Although he did not put himself forward, and indeed seemed reluctant when I instructed him to do so, he made an immediate start on rounding up the slaves with a clear tenor voice. Miss Pardoner busied herself with the nursing women and children, which I found strange. In the meantime, I went in search of the Master of Molasses. Having left him mooning in the care of Ishmael, I was more than somewhat surprised to find the both of them rolling around on the floor of the slave-dormitory exchanging curses and blows in equal measure. The red of Galloway's remaining hair was darkened by the blood from a cut on own scalp. Ishmael's remaining teeth were clamped around Galloway's ear and were in the process of removing it from the side of his head. There was a loud clatter as the other side of the Master of Molasses' head struck one of the mean cots. Had these furnishings been of better quality and in better condition, the outcome might not have been so convenient. Galloway was knocked more than insensible, but the cot leg sheared and as Ishmael pulled away from him, the sharp wood penetrated Galloway's eye to the depth of several inches.

Ishmael looked at me. The glint of madness in his eye showed more intelligence than ever I had ascertained thus far.

'Durned Catamite! I warn't Fedallah's toy and I ain't his, nossir!'

I found it most unlikely that Galloway had made advances toward Ishmael. We mounted Galloway on his prized possession and sent them both on their way at the cost of only a hefty kick from the stallion to Ishmael's private parts, which I counted a fine bargain. The wooden stake in Galloway's eye was visible in silhouette as horse and rider disappeared into the night. In the meantime, Compair Lapin had assembled some 70 prospective passengers for the Underground Railroad in a ragged column, with himself and Miss Ellen Pardoner at the head. Despite his illness, he seemed to have a dignity and presence about him and I grinned at Ellen

'Go down, Moses,' I whispered.

By my repeater watch it was midnight by the time our ragged troupe left Molasses bound for New Orleans and the Mint. I did not relish the prospect of travelling cross-country with such companions as these, but comforted myself with the image of Jacob Holzbein limping between the stacks of silver bullion.

One of the young men lay down not a mile into our journey. Compair Lapin knelt beside him and offered up some mumbled prayer, before taking the lead once more. I asked Miss Pardoner if the negro had any idea of the route to our destination, but she merely gave a sigh and shook her head. This route began by crossing some of the cotton fields belonging to the late Master of Molasses, but it was not long before we entered the swamp-land and I wished I had better boots - or even some of the ridiculous type that the Westerner's wore so proudly, though they ever complained they could not walk in them.

After several hours of battling through rank water and rotting vegetation, I realised we were at the edge of the swampland. My disappointment was great when I realised we would not be heading for the levee to follow it back to town. Instead, we headed away from it. A quarter of the compass away from the direction in which we had come. It might have been due north or east-south-east, for the night was overcast and there were no stars to be seen and only the merest sliver of moon to appear in any break in the clouds. Copair Lapin and Mr Pardoner stood hugger mugger some way off to the side of the rutted track we were following away from the levee. They were too far distant to overhear their conversation. I had fallen somewhat behind all but the weakest of the negroes, and the ache in my feet was an insistent reminder that a gentleman should never walk. However, they appeared to be in heated discussion, Lapin was most unsuitably proximate to Miss Pardoner and I stirred myself in order to be in a position to intervene. By the time I reached them, Lapin was sitting on a blackened tree stump slapping his thighs and Miss Pardoner's throaty laugh was offering counterpoint to his basso-profundo guffaws.

'I'm glad you find our excursion so diverting, Miss,' I wiped a 'kerchief over my brow.

'Mr Northrop, you'll find very few as good company as Copair Lapin. Why I think he has a dozen tales you, in particular, would do well to listen to.'

Lapin rolled his eyes and lolled his tongue like a Bedlam loon, before laughing once more.

'They's a way to go, Missuh Northrup, so I done tole the lady a story, thass' all.'

I forebore to enquire further about the matter.

'Where are we going? I assume you are aware that New Orleans - and the Mint – lie in another direction?'

This provoked Miss Pardoner to some ill-stifled cackles, which I thought most unbecoming.

'Y'ain't got 'nuff Niggers, Missuh Northrup,' said Lapin, and he strode forth, in a manner much more energetic than might have been expected from someone so infirm.

There was nothing for it but to follow, since I was not altogether sure I could have found my way back to the levee, much less to New Orleans itself. Progress was indeed slow. The children and the women often fell, tripped by tree roots or fatigue. Of the males, only myself and Compair Lapin managed to stay upright, for the most part. Miss Pardoner was remarkably sure-footed, although her feet could have been no better shod than my own. Without doubt, that night was one of the longest of my life. Endless tramping, stumbling and cursing, enlivened only by a brief halt by a brackish stream. We drank as if the stream were the nectar of the ancients, but were advised by Lapin to be abstemious in the partaking and to drink only sufficient to slake the thirst. We left one mother and a suckling babe behind shortly after, her body wracked with retching. One of the other Negroes kindly left her a sackcloth to keep them warm. The night air was cold, if one remained still and allowed the sweat to dry on one's skin. We left the swampland for something approaching the savannahs more likely to be found on the other side of the Mississippi.