The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 17, No. 101, March, 1866. VariousЧитать онлайн книгу.
Gorsuch then spoke, and said,—"Come, Mr. Kline, let's go up stairs and take them. We can take them. Come, follow me. I'll go up and get my property. What's in the way? The law is in my favor, and the people are in my favor."
At that he began to ascend the stair; but I said to him,—"See here, old man, you can come up, but you can't go down again. Once up here, you are mine."
Kline then said,—"Stop, Mr. Gorsuch. I will read the warrant, and then, I think, they will give up."
He then read the warrant, and said,—"Now, you see, we are commanded to take you, dead or alive; so you may as well give up at once."
"Go up, Mr. Kline," then said Gorsuch, "you are the Marshal."
Kline started, and when a little way up said, "I am coming."
I said, "Well, come on."
But he was too cowardly to show his face. He went down again and said,—"You had better give up without any more fuss, for we are bound to take you anyhow. I told you before that I was the United States Marshal, yet you will not give up. I'll not trouble the slaves. I will take you and make you pay for all."
"Well," I answered, "take me and make me pay for all. I'll pay for all."
Mr. Gorsuch then said, "You have my property."
To which I replied,—"Go in the room down there, and see if there is anything there belonging to you. There are beds and a bureau, chairs, and other things. Then go out to the barn; there you will find a cow and some hogs. See if any of them are yours."
He said,—"They are not mine; I want my men. They are here, and I am bound to have them."
Thus we parleyed for a time, all because of the pusillanimity of the Marshal, when he, at last, said,—"I am tired waiting on you; I see you are not going to give up. Go to the barn and fetch some straw," said he to one of his men, "I will set the house on fire, and burn them up."
"Burn us up and welcome," said I. "None but a coward would say the like. You can burn us, but you can't take us; before I give up, you will see my ashes scattered on the earth."
By this time day had begun to dawn; and then my wife came to me and asked if she should blow the horn, to bring friends to our assistance. I assented, and she went to the garret for the purpose. When the horn sounded from the garret window, one of the ruffians asked the others what it meant; and Kline said to me, "What do you mean by blowing that horn?"
I did not answer. It was a custom with us, when a horn was blown at an unusual hour, to proceed to the spot promptly to see what was the matter. Kline ordered his men to shoot any one they saw blowing the horn. There was a peach-tree at that end of the house. Up it two of the men climbed; and when my wife went a second time to the window, they fired as soon as they heard the blast, but missed their aim. My wife then went down on her knees, and, drawing her head and body below the range of the window, the horn resting on the sill, blew blast after blast, while the shots poured thick and fast around her. They must have fired ten or twelve times. The house was of stone, and the windows were deep, which alone preserved her life.
They were evidently disconcerted by the blowing of the horn. Gorsuch said again, "I want my property, and I will have it."
"Old man," said I, "you look as if you belonged to some persuasion."
"Never mind," he answered, "what persuasion I belong to; I want my property."
While I was leaning out of the window, Kline fired a pistol at me, but the shot went too high; the ball broke the glass just above my head. I was talking to Gorsuch at the time. I seized a gun and aimed it at Gorsuch's breast, for he evidently had instigated Kline to fire; but Pinckney caught my arm and said, "Don't shoot." The gun went off, just grazing Gorsuch's shoulder. Another conversation then ensued between Gorsuch, Kline, and myself, when another one of the party fired at me, but missed. Dickinson Gorsuch, I then saw, was preparing to shoot; and I told him if he missed, I would show him where shooting first came from.
I asked them to consider what they would have done, had they been in our position. "I know you want to kill us," I said, "for you have shot at us time and again. We have only fired twice, although we have guns and ammunition, and could kill you all if we would, but we do not want to shed blood."
"If you do not shoot any more," then said Kline, "I will stop my men from firing."
They then ceased for a time. This was about sunrise.
Mr. Gorsuch now said,—"Give up, and let me have my property. Hear what the Marshal says; the Marshal is your friend. He advises you to give up without more fuss, for my property I will have."
I denied that I had his property, when he replied, "You have my men."
"Am I your man?" I asked.
"No."
I then called Pinckney forward.
"Is that your man?"
"No."
Abraham Johnson I called next, but Gorsuch said he was not his man.
The only plan left was to call both Pinckney and Johnson again; for had I called the others, he would have recognized them, for they were his slaves.
Abraham Johnson said, "Does such a shrivelled up old slaveholder as you own such a nice, genteel young man as I am?"
At this Gorsuch took offence, and charged me with dictating his language. I then told him there were but five of us, which he denied, and still insisted that I had his property. One of the party then attacked the Abolitionists, affirming that, although they declared there could not be property in man, the Bible was conclusive authority in favor of property in human flesh.
"Yes," said Gorsuch, "does not the Bible say, 'Servants, obey your masters'?"
I said that it did, but the same Bible said, "Give unto your servants that which is just and equal."
At this stage of the proceedings, we went into a mutual Scripture inquiry, and bandied views in the manner of garrulous old wives.
When I spoke of duty to servants, Gorsuch said, "Do you know that?"
"Where," I asked, "do you see it in Scripture, that a man should traffic in his brother's blood?"
"Do you call a nigger my brother?" said Gorsuch.
"Yes," said I.
"William," said Samuel Thompson, "he has been a class-leader."
When Gorsuch heard that, he hung his head, but said nothing. We then all joined in singing,—
"Leader, what do you say
About the judgment day?
I will die on the field of battle,
Die on the field of battle,
With glory in my soul."
Then we all began to shout, singing meantime, and shouted for a long while. Gorsuch, who was standing head bowed, said, "What are you doing now?"
Samuel Thompson replied, "Preaching a sinner's funeral sermon."
"You had better give up, and come down."
I then said to Gorsuch,—"'If a brother see a sword coming, and he warn not his brother, then the brother's blood is required at his hands; but if the brother see the sword coming, and warn his brother, and his brother flee not, then his brother's blood is required at his own hand.' I see the sword coming, and, old man, I warn you to flee; if you flee not, your blood be upon your own hand."
It was now about seven o'clock.
"You had better give up," said old Mr. Gorsuch, after another while, "and come down, for I have come a long way this morning, and want my breakfast; for my property I will have, or I'll breakfast in hell. I will go up and get it."
He then started up stairs, and came far enough to see us all plainly. We were just about to fire upon him, when Dickinson Gorsuch, who was standing on the old oven, before the door, and could see into the up-stairs room through the window, jumped down and caught his father, saying,—"O father, do come down! do come down! They have guns, swords, and all kinds