The Story of a Quaker's Wooing.
by John Cleveland.
Originally published in The Novel Magazine (C. Arthur Pearson, Ltd.) vol.2 #9 (Dec 1905).
A stirring incident in the American Civil War.
"It's not the slightest use talking, Elias Ashley; you are taking all this trouble for nothing. I have told you over and over again that I will never marry a man who won't fight for his country." And Kitty Maxwell shook her black curls with a half-humorous, half-contemptuous expression on her beautiful face.
They were standing at the gate of Howard Maxwell's farm in Falkland County, North Carolina.
The young man sighed, and for a little while he did not speak.
"Cannot thou feel respect for conscientious scruples, Katharine Maxwell?" he asked at length.
"No, of course I can't. Patriotism is a part of religion. A truly religious man would be prepared to do his duty as a citizen, and a good citizen ought to be ready to defend his country," snapped Kitty.
"Our country is America, Katharine, and it is threatened by no foreign foes."
"Stuff! North Carolina is our country. I am all for State Rights; and if the greasy Northern rabble ever dare to set foot on the soil of North Carolina, they'll find they have undertaken more than they can manage. They want to take our slaves from us and ruin us, and it's the duty of every Southern man to join the Confederate army."
"I do not see my duty in that light, Katharine. Thou knowest I have no sympathy for the institution of negro slavery, and I could not fight to uphold it, even if I could put aside my principles of non-resistance."
"Well, Elias Ashley, for impudence it would be a real trouble to find your match. You expect me, me, the daughter of a Southern gentleman, an impoverished one, I admit, to marry an Abolitionist and a coward!"
"A coward, Katharine Maxwell!" There was no anger in the Quaker's voice; but his face flushed painfully.
"I mean what I say, Elias Ashley, non resistance is another name for cowardice."
"I think thou wilt withdraw the word, Katharine; it is undeserved. The patience and courage which our people have shown under terrible persecutions should at least entitle them to respect. No one has ever before used that unbecoming word to me, and, coming from thee, whom I love, it is very painful to hear."
Kitty only shook her head, and laughed lightly. She had no idea of the deep wound she had inflicted. She put out her chin and looked the Quaker saucily in the face.
"You'll have to get used to it," she said; "you'll find that others will not hesitate to express their contempt, if you refuse to serve against the tyrant Lincoln."
Elias met her mocking look and words calmly. There was a massive strength of character in the man, and a steadiness of bearing which might have told her how much she was mistaken. But Kitty was only eighteen, and was not given to observing closely or thinking deeply. In her opinion a man who would not fight was a coward, and there was an end of it.
"I can't stay any longer," she said. "I only came out for a minute. Don't worry me any more, Elias, there's a good fellow. I couldn't think of it—it's really too ridiculous—marry one of your own homespun girls; I am sure the dress wouldn't suit me. The South is going to win straight away. Don't you make any mistake about that. I advise you to go West or North before it's too late. Our boys are going to make the South a great slave-owning nation, and you Abolitionists are going to have a rough time. Good-night, Elias."
"Farewell, Katharine Maxwell. I should not think of leaving North Carolina. My place is here, where I am able to do some good. I am sadly disappointed that thou hast refused to retract thy harsh and unjust denunciation; but the time will come, I verily believe, when thou wilt alter thy opinion."
So saying, the Quaker turned from the gate, and went on his way homewards.
Elias Ashley was a man of considerable property, and was besides educated above the standard of his neighbours. It was in his power to provide a better home with many more comforts than could the other suitors who plagued Katharine Maxwell with their attentions.
Kitty's nature was less cruel than her words. Before she had crossed the threshold of her home she regretted the insults she had heaped upon the Quaker. He had always treated her with profound respect, and she was flattered by the evident sincerity of his devotion. Elias was handsome, too, in spite of his uncouth dress and archaic form of speech. She thought of him with a kind of pitying affection, and wished that he were more amenable to reason.
Slavery was a beneficent institution based upon moral right. The North was jealous, spiteful, and tyrannical; it behoved every loyal Southerner to resist her aggression. Some Quakers, she knew, had renounced their principles in times past and gone forth to battle. Why could not Elias be equally sensible?
* * * *
The months went by, and the South began to drink of the cup of bitter humiliation. The bright laurels won in the first early successes were now faded and torn.
Disaster followed hard upon disaster. Slowly but surely the dark, pitiless North gathered her giant resources, and the iron flood of invasion crept further and further southward. Still, with a heroism unsurpassed in history, the South fought on. The open-air men of farm and plantation offered the resistance of despair. The flower of the Southern aristocracy lay buried in unmarked graves.
Successive conscriptions had torn all able bodied men from industry and agriculture. Many Quakers purchased exemption by the payment of heavy fines. But now, when the armies in the field were wasted by battle and disease, more men must be obtained at all costs. Recruiting parties made up of desperadoes and rowdies spread over the desolated land. Captain Phil Raymond, at the head of a band of fierce irregulars, swept through Falkland county, hunting up deserters, and applying persuasions of an atrocious character to non-resisters.
Mr. Howard Maxwell, though in his fiftieth year, was away at the front, and Kitty was left in sole management of the farm. There was soon nothing left to manage. The men had long since gone, some never to return; the horses, cattle, waggons, even stores, had been swept into the insatiable maw of the Confederate armies. Her neighbours were in as hard case as herself, and it would have fared badly with the proud beauty of Falkland, had not one loyal friend come by night and laid his humble tribute of supplies at her door. Kitty suspected Elias Ashley; but she never saw him; he made no attempt to force him self upon her notice.
When Captain Raymond and his bearded, unkempt followers invaded the district, the sluggish life of the village was stirred into a fever of excitement. Several deserters were captured and hanged without mercy, and many young lads were brought in, and sent off to join the ragged battalions at the front.
Howard Maxwell's house was the most opulent-looking dwelling in the district, although fast tumbling into ruin. Here the Captain took up his quarters. Captain Raymond was born in Maryland, where he was well-known as a man of dissipated habits and a boaster. He had won no distinction in the field, and his superiors had rightly judged that his talents would show to greater advantage in the recruiting service. He was a coarse-featured man of thirty, black-bearded, and of a ferocious aspect. Besides his regulation sabre, he carried four large-calibre revolvers and an enormous bowie-knife.
The Captain sat on the stoep, puffing at his corn-cob pipe and drinking old rye. Kitty, neat and trim as ever, in spite of hard times, was busy with a piece of work a couple of yards away. She disliked and despised the coarse bully; but hospitality is a standard virtue in the South, and Kitty did her best to entertain the Confederate officer.
Raymond's bloodshot eyes were fixed upon his young hostess with an expression of vulgar admiration.
"My orders are explicit," he was saying. "These Quakers have skulked long enough. It's a burning shame that gentlemen should have to suffer wounds and starvation while these smooth hypocrites are staying safe and snug at home. I guess I'm going to make some of the curs sit up. I reckon that you, miss, know the names and locations of most of 'em?"
"Yes, I know all the Quakers for some miles round."
"Then it'll save time and trouble if you'll furnish me with a list, and we'll set about the sport bright and early to-morrow."
"Really, Captain Raymond, I don't see my way to help you in the matter," said Kitty sharply. "My father is giving his services to the cause, and he has had to give nearly all his property; but I hardly think he would approve of his daughter turning informer. You take a liberty in making the proposition."
"I beg your pardon; we'll try to get along without your help. I am to show no mercy. I'll grind the miserable hounds to powder, and any of their sympathisers and supporters had better look lively. There's no flies on me, you bet. There's strong, husky men among 'em, men as can fight, and they'll have to fight. Yes, my dear, and there's no two ways about it."
Kitty sprang to her feet. The man's tone of insolent familiarity made her furious. The scornful flash of her dark, southern eyes would have made a better bred man feel uncomfortable. But the Captain cared nothing for a woman's indignation.
"Looks to me, my dear, as if you cherished Northern prejudices," he said with a coarse laugh. "Don't let's have any nonsense of that kind, or I shall have to deal with you, too, according to the terms of my instructions."
"How dare you speak to me in this way?" Kitty flashed out. "I am a Southerner born and bred. No one but a half-intoxicated brute would ever think of doubting my loyalty."
Kitty turned her back upon him, and with tightly-folded arms moved towards the road.
"You're not going to leave me in that fashion," the words came with a whiff of liquor-scented breath, and the next instant she was struggling in his arms. Kitty fought like a wild cat, and shriek after shriek pierced the still summer air. Suddenly she felt the man's grasp relax. She sprang away, and saw Captain Raymond standing with both his hands in the grasp of a tall man in a broad-brimmed hat.
The Captain's language was profane and free. He demanded with a volley of expletives who it was that dared to lay hands on a Confederate officer.
The Quaker, who had twice his strength, held his wrists in a vice-like grip.
"Thou should'st feel thankful that my principles prevent me from inflicting a well-merited chastisement upon thee," he said: "I shall hold thee here until thou givest me thy promise to treat this young woman with respect."
The Captain endeavoured to kick, but a sudden sharp twist of his wrist caused him such pain that he desisted.
"I'll shoot you like a dog as soon as my hands are free," he snarled.
"Wilt thou promise?"
The Captain declared he would suffer eternal torment before he promised anything.
Kitty was swift to take in the bearings of the situation. She knew that Raymond would murder Elias Ashley as soon as ever his hands were at liberty. With extraordinary celerity she deprived him of his sabre, pistols, and knife, then took them into the house and locked them up.
"Thou hadst better promise, friend," said Elias. "I can hold thee for hours, and if thou criest out too loudly, I will carry thee where thy voice cannot be heard."
After a little more vain struggling, the Captain gave the required promise, at the same time calling down a blighting curse upon his captor. Elias Ashley released him on the instant. He then addressed himself to Kitty.
"If thou prefer'st it, Katharine Maxwell," he said "I will take thee to a friend's house where thou wilt be quite safe."
"No, thank you, Mr. Ashley," said Kitty, "I shall remain here. I have my own revolver; but I don't think Captain Raymond will give me any further trouble."
"Farewell, then, Katharine Maxwell," said the Quaker. "And farewell to thee also, friend Raymond. I hope thou wilt cultivate a more respectful manner towards women. Thou art a disgrace to the manhood of America."
"I'll talk to you to-morrow, you canting hypocrite," raged the Captain. "I'll flog your flesh from your bones."
"I do not fear thee," replied the Quaker calmly, and went his way.
Kitty drew a serviceable revolver from her dress, and kept the Captain covered till Elias was far on his road, then she tossed him a key and told him where he could find his weapons.
Very early the following morning, Elias' breakfast was interrupted by the arrival of Captain Raymond and his troop of desperadoes.
The officer gave his orders briefly.
"This man, Elias Ashley, is liable for service in the Army of the Southern Confederacy. Bring him along."
"Friends," said Elias, "my principles forbid me to fight. I pray you leave me to my business."
No attention was paid to his protest. Another order was growled forth, and the Quaker's hands were tied behind him, and he was fastened by a strap to a trooper's saddle. In this ignominious manner he was dragged to the camping place. Raymond, who was now quite sober, ordered him to take up a rifle.
"I refuse," answered Elias; "I have already told thee that my principles will not allow me to take up arms. I have received my orders from a greater Commander than thou."
A couple of rifles were strapped to his body, and he was tied to a post and left standing all day in the blazing sun.
When his bonds were loosened at sunset, he sank down almost lifeless upon the earth.
One soldier, more humane than his fellows, gave the prisoner a drink of water.
"Thank thee, friend," said Elias in a firm voice; "may thou, too, find mercy in thy need!"
Captain Raymond came up, and stood looking down triumphantly upon the Quaker.
"Not cured yet, eh?" he said, spurning him with his foot. "We clear out of this to-morrow, so there's no escape for you. If you come along willingly, you'll find things smooth out; but you've got to come anyhow; and if I have any more of your monkey business, I'll make you taste torture. Are you going to take up that rifle?"
"Thou art wasting time, friend. I tell thee once for all that I will take no share in this wicked war. Thou hold'st the power, and canst work thy will upon my poor body; but I defy thee."
Raymond kicked him viciously, and called to his men.
"Here, you, tie the skunk up by his thumbs, and we'll see what he thinks about it in the morning."
Elias uttered no petition for mercy. He only said gravely:
"It is a poor cause that relies upon such means as these."
Cords were attached to his thumbs, and thrown over a cross-beam, and with two rifles weighing him down, Elias was drawn up till his toes barely touched the ground. Having secured him thus, the soldiers returned to their cards and drink.
The place where Elias suffered was in sight of the Maxwell homestead. Darkness had fallen, and in Kitty's chamber a light shone out like a star. His eyes were drawn to it, as the needle turns to the North, and he prayed that she did not know what had befallen him. The torture was excruciating, atrocious. Still through the eternity of the cruel night he uttered no cry, begged for no relief.
The chill dawn came at last. Elias Ashley's head drooped upon his breast. He was not unconscious, not delirious, for he was a man of great strength and iron nerve. He hung there fully alive, enduring the maximum of human suffering. The blazing agony waxed in intensity as the hours passed.
"Howdy, friend Yea and Nay? Had a pleasant night, I guess," and the genial Captain prodded the swaying figure with his sabre. "What do you say now? Are you going to shoulder that rifle or not?"
The voice that replied was like a faint echo of the man's ordinary tones, but weak as it was it breathed the old, indomitable Quaker spirit.
"Thou art wasting time, friend Raymond. I have told thee that my principles will not allow me to bear arms, and thou wilt not be able to shake my resolution."
The Captain indulged in a torrent of evil language. "Don't you know I can hang you, if I like, you hound!" he roared.
"Death has no terrors for me," replied the Quaker. "I fear the wrath of God more than the vengeance of man."
"Hang where you are, then. And, see here, if you don't shoulder your rifle and come along when I give the word, the rope'll be round your neck."
Raymond swung away, and found himself face to face with a slim, dark girl, whose blazing eyes sent a pang of fear to his craven heart.
"Get back home, Miss Maxwell," he said; "this is not a sight for ladies."
The girl's words poured forth in a passionate shriek:
"Captain Raymond, you're a coward! a coward! a coward! Do you hear me? You are a disgrace to the name of man. You shame the Confederate uniform. What hope is there for the cause when commissions are given to such white trash as you? You low-down, drunken horse-thief! You're meaner than the meanest [racial slur] that ever robbed a hen-roost. I order you to take that man down," and in the tempest of her fury, she struck the Captain across the face with her open hand.
For one moment she was in physical danger. Raymond clenched his fist; but he dared not strike. He was not a good disciplinarian, his control over his men was loose. There were one or two clean-blooded men among them—American men, who would have drawn upon him as sure as Fate if they saw him strike a woman.
"My orders can't be set aside by your monkey tricks," he said; "I have authority for what I am doing. I can hang this man if I think proper. He has his choice, he can either fight or hang. Here, take this lady and tie her hands while we settle this business."
A couple of bronzed troopers seized Kitty, but they did not put the indignity of bonds upon her, they only held her by the wrists.
"You simmer down," one of them growled. "What's all this bobbery about a cowardly Quaker?"
A cowardly Quaker. The words brought a flush to Kitty's cheek. She herself had called this man a coward.
"Cut him loose."
The cords were severed with a sabre, and Elias fell at full length, and lay there an inert mass. His hands were horribly red and swollen, his face was drawn and white. Kitty noticed the convulsive heaving of his great chest.
"We must hurry up," said Captain Raymond, "and push on to the next town. I've given you every chance, Elias Ashley. For refusing to serve in the Confederate army you are liable to suffer death, and I am going to enforce the penalty. I order you for the last time to march with us to the depôt at Williamsville. Get up."
With great difficulty Elias rose to his feet, and stood facing his judge.
"I have no doubt that these men will carry out thy orders, friend Raymond," he said. "I should be but an unworthy servant of the Lord if I feared to die in vindication of His law. I told thee from the beginning that I would not bear arms, and I will not. May our Father in Heaven forgive thee for this wickedness!"
The words were brave, but they were spoken haltingly, for the man's throat and tongue were parched.
"Make a slip noose," ordered the Captain, "throw the slack over the beam. McLeod and Howell catch hold. Hoist when I give the word."
Elias turned his bloodshot eyes on Kitty, and spoke his last words.
"Farewell, Katharine Maxwell, I have loved thee well."
Kitty made a sudden attempt to free herself, but her captors' grasp was too strong. But her voice rose clear and penetrating.
"Captain Phil Raymond, coward, poltroon, murderer! The meanest man south of Mason and Dixon's line! The white trash Captain!"
Raymond never looked round. He took out his watch.
"Two minutes to say his prayers," he said and raised his hand.
Elias, standing with the rope round his neck, and his arms pinioned, closed his eyes, and put up an earnest prayer for mercy.
Kitty raged between her captors, and ere a third of the allotted time of grace had run out, her voice shrilled up in a prolonged hysterical shriek. A cry of indignation, a call for vengeance.
As if in answer to her cry, there came with startling suddenness on the still air the sharp crack of rifles from the adjacent wood, and three of the guerillas whirling their arms aloft fell heavily in the dust.
"A surprise," yelled Raymond; "to horse!" There was a wild rush to where the horses were tethered, and Kitty was almost flung down by the suddenness of her release. Still the rifles spoke. A dropping, galling fire was kept up, and several more men were hit.
Captain Raymond had gained his saddle, but before dashing to cover, he levelled his pistol at the prisoner, saying, "I scoop the pool."
But quick as light, Kitty's revolver was out, and the Captain's right arm dropped, shattered at the elbow. Uttering a yell of pain, he spurred furiously away.
The cruel noose was loosened by deft, loving fingers, and Elias sank heavily down.
"Elias, dear," said the sobbing voice (her arms were round him, and his tired, pain-racked head was resting on her breast), "I called you a coward; you are the bravest man in all America; and if you can ever forgive me, I am ready to be your wife."
"It is very sweet of thee to say so, Katharine," he said with his rare smile. "Thy words have eased me of my pain and weariness. I thank Heaven for the rich gift of thy love and esteem. And to thee, my dear one, I owe my life. Oh, may God soon send peace to our desolated land!" And with these words he sank into a deep swoon.
When the commander of the Union soldiers rode up, he beheld the strange sight of a lovely Southern girl embracing the insensible form of a stalwart Quaker, and bathing his maimed hands with her tears.