Democratic Sentinel, Volume 17, Number 11, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 31 March 1893 — In Sheep's Clothing. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

In Sheep's Clothing.

By Capt. Ormond Steele

CHAPTER XL •OWE ItEP'EKENCE.i TO THE PAST WHICH IT IS NBCESSARV TO UNDERSTAND. Colonel Graham was a very weak man, and at best a very angry one, though it would not do for him to •how it He played Blok and he cursed —to himeelf — the doctor who had turned his mean pretense into a frightful reality. He was in no amiable mood when Othello came in on tip-toe, and, in response to his master’s demand to know “who was making that noise out there," made answer: “It’s my granny, sah." “May the devil fly away with the black hag! Why he hasn’t done so before is a mystery. What does she want?" The Colonel pushed himself higher up on the pillows and glared at the blaok man, as if ready to Slav him if he' did not at once give a satisfactory answer to the question. “She wants foh to see yeh,” said Othello, his tremulous voice indicating the fear he felt of his master. “Yes, en I’ze got to see ye. No use a tryin’ to keep me out Es yer Bick, I’ve got yarbs to cure ye; so in I comes —en ’ow does yeh do, me lod?” The door was opened and closed with a sudden bang, and Dinah stood in the middle of the floor, bowing in a way that to any other man than that sitting bolt upright on the great “four-poster” bed would have been extremely ludicrous. “I ain siok, woman, and want to be alone,” said Colonel Graham, but even Othello noticed that he did not speak with the peremptory voice that usually distinguished him. “So ye does. ” The old woman turned to her grandson,and enforcing her command by extending her lean, black arm in the direction of the door, she continued: “Git out, ’Thello: me en yer mas’r wants to be ’lone. Don’t ye go foh to stan’ dar grinnin’ wld yer mouf open, but go out Tell ’im to go out to once.” Dinah turned to the bed, and the colonel, falling back on his pillows w th a sigh of mingled wrath and pain, said: “Leave me alone for a little while, Othello. ” Amazed at his grandmother’s audacity, Othello went out, but he did not go out of hearing. His curiesity was aroused, and he made up his mad to learn, if possible, the secret of the old woman’s power. So far it had been his firm belief that there was not in all the world a being who would dare to oppose the wishes of his fierce master. Dinah had not been in town for some days, and though she had heard of the departure of the Wanderer, she as yet did not know that Capt. Denham had left on that ship. “I have offered you gold to leave me alone and to keep your cursed tongue quiet,” said the colonel. 'Now, what do you want?” Before replying to this the old woman drew back the bed curtain, so that she might .get a better view of his face, and then, coming so near that she could look into his cold, glittering gray eyes, said in a voice that was not a whisper, but which sounded far away and sepulchral: “I want to keep on leadin’ of a bettah life, en I can’t go foh to do it w’en yer roun’.” “Leave me alone, and I’ll soon be away.” The colonel threw a pillow under his shoulder, so that he could rest on his elbow, and returned the.woman’s look without flinching; Suddenly, as if he had decided on different tactics from those he would pursue if he corntlnued acting ’in accordance with his feelings, he said: “Sit down, Dinah, and let us have a chat; let us be friends, as we were in the old times. You must excuse me, but I have been sick in mind and body for some time. ” “I’d rather stan’ up.” replied Dinah, and she place i both hands on the top of her long staff, and, resting her chin thereon, she still watched him. After a pause, she continued: “Ye’z sick in min’ tn body, en no wondah. W’y ye’z alive arter all de min’ en body sickness ye’z had yarsel en made odders foh to hab is de mos’ ’sprisin’ t’ing I’ze ever heard on, en I’ze been libbiri' now nigh onto sou-ah score en ten " “Never mind that,” interrupted the Colonel, restraining with a terrible effort his tendency to anger. “Let us talk about yourself and what you have been doing since last I saw you. Let mo see, it must be one-and-twenty years ago?” “Jes’ dat time. I couldn’t fohgit it, en you couldn’t fohgit it. We was bofe in Bermooda den, en I was the slave of de Gov-nah. Does yer remimber who that Gov-nah war?” The hag cocked her head to one side, and leaned forward on the staff for an answer. Colonel Graham shot a glance at the door and saw it was closed, then he threw back the curtain still further and looked over the room before he said: “The Governor of Bermuda, at that time, w*s my brother.” “En dey called ’im Colonel Gra’am, too?” “You know thoy did, Dinah.” “En if he’d libbed den dat Gov-nah’d been Lo’d Paliton?" “What of it?” “But dat Gov’nah didn’t lib. Kaze w’y? Doan’t you know, sah?” “He died,” replied the Colonel, with another impatient glance about the room. “En w’y did ’e die?” It is so difficult to reproduce with accuracy the strange dialect of this woman, that for the present we shall discontinue it, and give a summary of the facts developed by her shrewd questions and her ready aind frequently grotesquely humorous answers. Twenty-one years before the date es our story. Colonel—the Bight Honorable Ralph Denham Graham, the eldest eon of Lord Paliton of Ayr and Cumberland—was the Governor General of the Bermudas. He lived at Hamilton, the capital, which was located on one of the Bermu~ da group, known as “Long Island,” though it is much less in area than its namesake in New York. Col. Graham was a knightly man, greatly devoted to his wife and only child, a son, at that time aged between five and six years, and named after his father. The climate not agreeing with Lady Denham, she went to England, but at the earnest request of her husband she left her little boy with him. Capt. George Graham, a younger and only brother of the colonel, lived In his family, and aoted as “colonial secretary,” a position which had but lltUs

labor connected with it and considerable emoluments. As the Governor was a man in good health and on the sunny side of forty, there was every reason to believe that he would survive his father, then an old man, and fall heir to his titles and the large estates thereunto belonging. But should the governor die, his little son, Ralph, would, in the natural course of events, succeed to the rank of Lord Paliton, Earl of Ayr. But should the governor and his son die, then Capt. George Graham would inherit the titles and estates. Many thought it was a good thing that Capt. George Graham’s chances were so small, for he was a harsh, cruel, domineering man, who seemed in rebellion against his. Creator because he was not born first. Capt George Graham was, however, an accomplished hypocrite, for he succeeded in making the Governor believe that he was the most ttevoted brother that ever lived. Bermuda does not bubble over with excitement even in these days of electricity and steam. It is a by-way off the great ocean routes. At this time the officers sent there on duty looked on it as a mild sort of exile, and did everything they oould to get ordered home. Yachting was a sport in which Col. Graham delighted at home, but here he found in it one source of amusement on which he could depend to break up the ennui. His brother George was also fond of yachting, and the sloop in which they took their pleasure was commanded, or f rather sailed, by a daring, handsome young Englishman of sixteen or seventeen named William Kidd. Young Kidd was a great favorite with Capt. Graham. He was a bold, ambitious youth, with a natural aptitude for his calling, and a mind far above the average. Having acquired no principle of right, and being wholly deficient therein by nature, William Kidd had no scruples that would lead him to resist the schemes of the Captain. They held their consultations at the cabin of an old negro woman, the Captain’s slave, named Dinah. There it was decided that the next time the Governor went out with them to sail that the boat should capsize, and that the father and his little boy should be drowned. This programme was carried- out. The Governor could have saved himself had not his unnatural brother leaped upon him and held him under water. The little boy, Ralph, clung to the sailor, Kidd, but when the Captain motioned for him to drown the child, the latent spark of humanity in the fellow's breast fired up. With a dangerous light in his fierce blue eyes and a savage oath on his beardless lips, he said: “No, sir! We’ve done enough for one day. The youngster’s arms are about my neck, and may I sink to the bottom with his father if I do not save his life. You can hide him away.” “But It was your bargain,” urged the Captain. “Men that bargain to murder cannot be held to account if they do not till tiie contract. This boy must live, and I must know that he lives, oth« rwlse I will turn Queen’s evidence and tell the truth,” replied Kidd. The result of this peculiar bargaining, under such circumstances, was that the child was carried ashore and given into the charge of the old negro woman, Dinah.

Here little Ralph was secreted until the story of his death wa3 firmly believed on the islands and in England. ; Then the Captain—now the Right Honorable George Graham—and Willla m Mdd smuggled the child to Long Island, in the Province of New York, where he was disposed of, as has already been stated. The loss of his son and grandson so prostrated old Lord Paliton that he did not long survive them, and so the Captain achieved the one great object of his ambition. Soon after this, old Dinah disappeared, and it was generally believed that she was drowned; but, as she was pld and not particularly liked, her loss soon ceased to be a matter of speculation. But Lord Paliton was not destined to enjoy his criminally procured future undisturbed. The young sailor, Kidd, became a man, and with his Increase of years there came an increase of ambition and a decrease of principle, if that were possible. His old companion in crime was now a great personage in the world, and, having considerable power at court, ividd was just the man to rise by clinging to his skirts, or, ii need be, by placing his feet on his patron’s shoulders. Kidd clung to him, as the old man of the sea clung to Sinbad. Again and again, Colonel Graham—to give him the name he had assumed for use at Sag Harbor, had tried to put, Kidd out of the way, but he was always foiled. At length Kidd, as a means of security, concealed h'a friend—Guy Frenauld, a young sailor of fortune —where he could hear himself and Colonel Graham discussing the awtul past. Then, with an eye to dramatic effect, Kidd brought Frenauld out, and the Colonel saw he had two opposed to him, and giving up the contest, entered into a compact with the young men. It was through Col. Graham that Kidd got command of the Adventure Galley, and it was partly through his confidence of his friend’s powerful influence in the event of detection that he became a pirate on the high seas, while bearing the Queen's commission. It is useless further to disguise the fact that Fox and Kidd were one and the same person. But there were some grounds for change of name in shiD and captain. Kidd, by an act of unparalleled treachery, had murdered a captain named Fox, and all his officers and crew, in the Indian Ocean. Then, appropriating the papers and such plunder as was valuable, he caused the ship to be scuttled, and sailed away to inaugurate a career of crime which, for successful audacity and heartless cruelty, has not been equaled in the annals of marine robbery. All these facts were not brought out during the lalk between Col. Graham ani Dinah, but those with which she was better acquainted were elaborated with an attention to detail that placed Graham in a mental treadmill, and proved that age had not dimmed the old woman’s memory, while time had made her regret the part she took in the cruel conspiracy. “I tell youj it took me long ’nuff time to fin’ dis odder Long Islan’, bul I did it, an’ I’ve staid har nigh dat b’y. never portindiu’ noffin’ but jest a-watchin’. En now, I tell ye de time hev come when jestis has got for to be did. ” “Dinah, you are altogether wrong. But as I believe you mean to do right, I will tell you now that I came here to do justice. There is only one person wfio can prevent it, and I think she has got too much wisdom and too much love for Captain Denham, to balk me with her Interference, said the Colonel, evidently wearied by the long, agonizing conversation.

“En ye mean foh to say ez I’m dal woman?” “I do, Dinah." “Den es I hole back, what’s ye gwine foh to do?” ‘I Intend meeting Captain Denham in New \'ork in a few days.and I will make him independently rich. “ “En w’y doan’t ye tell ’im now?” “He is not here.” “War’s ’er gone?” “To New Xork.” “W’en?” “This morning; he sailed with Captain Fox on board the Wanderer,” “Wid Cap’n Debbel! ye doan’t mean foh to go en say to me ez Ralph Den’m hez gone off wid dat red-beaded mu’d’rer! Did you sen’ ’im? Hev ye oome loh dot?” The hag reached out her long, black fingers, the nails of which were like claws, and gathered herself as if about to spring on the man in the bed, and ren t him in her fury, “I tell the truth, woman!” cried the Colonel, his anger making him desperate. “Make a disturbance here, and I will kill you and throw you out the window. You hag, you lorget that you are my runaway slave, and that I hold your worthless life in my hands.” He sprang out of bed and began dressing, calling at the same time foi Othello, who came in with an unusual display of white about his eyes, for he had been listening to the whole conversation, and was now In that condition which is frequently described as “thunder-struck." The old woman did not move, did not manifest any fear; on the contrary, she bore herself like one who was conscious that she had proved herself to be the mistress of the situation, and was confident of her ability to maintain it against all comers, and more particularly against the opponent now in the field. “Es ’arm should come to Mars RalphDen’m, en if so be It so, we'U soon know it, den dar’ll be lots en lots of trubble to dem ez as brought all dis on. Mark dem words ez 1 ’as jest Bpoke," said Dinah, moving in the direction of the door, but still keeping her wild, bleared eyes fixed on the Colonel’s face. “Where is your home; where am I to speak to you without being disturbed?" asked the Colonel, desperately, yet pleadingly. “Es so be ye wants fob to fin’ me, ax any of de buokras at de inn; but doan’t ye go foh to feah ez we won't meet agin. Ye can’t git away, en I not know it. Es so be I was to ax foh yer life, a ’unerd Montauk men ’ed git um dar bows and lie in de woods war ye was gwine. Mars Ralph Den’m ee’ez got to come back safe en soun’. You ’ears dat?” “Go, Dinah, go, and I will come to see you.” The Colonel looked as if he were going to faint, and the old woman went out. fTQ BE CONTINUED. |