Hatchie, the Guardian Slave Part 27

Calling in the old negro, he gave him some directions in case the patient should awake, and, taking his case of surgical instruments, he proceeded to the landing. Unmooring the sail-boat, he took the two messengers on board, with their boat in tow. The wind was still fresh, and the yacht, with all her sails spread, bore the doctor rapidly on his errand of mercy. A strange impulse seemed to animate him,--an impulse of genuine, heart-felt sympathy towards the whole human family,--a feeling to which he had before been a stranger. His profession seemed to him now a boon of mercy to the suffering, and he saw how poorly he had performed his mission to the world. He felt a pleasure he had never before experienced, in being able to relieve the distressed, to heal the wounded heart, as well as the bruised limb.

Under the skilful pilotage of Dr. Vaudelier the more rapid currents were avoided, the boat pressed to her utmost speed; and in a short time the party landed at the wood-yard of Jerry Swinger.

During the absence of the messengers Emily, by the most a.s.siduous attentions, had succeeded in restoring the wounded woman to a state of partial consciousness. The arrival of the doctor increased her hopes of a speedy restoration. The rough woodman, who had patiently watched Emily as she labored over his beloved partner, was melted into tears of joy when he heard her faintly articulate his name.

After a thorough examination of the wound, the doctor announced the gratifying intelligence that the woman was not dangerously wounded. The severe operation of extracting the ball was performed, and the patient left to the quiet her situation demanded.

On the pa.s.sage from Cottage Island Hatchie had related the particulars of the affray, so that on his arrival Dr. Vaudelier was in possession of all the facts.

"You have had a severe fight here, madam," said he to Emily, who had followed him out to inquire more particularly into the situation of her hostess.

"We have, indeed; but I trust no lives will be lost," replied Emily.

"No; the woman will do very well. The wound is a severe one, but not dangerous. Her strong const.i.tution will resist all fatal consequences."

"I trust it may, for this has been a day of disaster, without the loss of more life."

"You were a pa.s.senger in the Chalmetta?"

"I was."

"Then you have had a narrow escape."

"But a more narrow one since the explosion. Thank Heaven, I have been preserved from both calamities!"

"Had you no friends on board?"

"I had--one friend;" and she hesitated. "I fear he has perished."

"Hope for the best!" replied the doctor, kindly.

The blush, and then the change to the paleness of death, as Emily thought of Henry, first as the lover, and then as a mangled corpse had not escaped the notice of Dr. Vaudelier. He read in her varying color the relation they had sustained to each other.

"I have no alternative but hope," said Emily; "but it seems like hoping against the certainty of evil."

"I saved the life of a gentleman this morning who must shortly have perished without aid. He, too, had lost a dear friend."

"Indeed!" said Emily, with interest.

"Yes; but he was much injured, and will require the most diligent care."

"I trust your merciful endeavors will be crowned with success. Do you know the gentleman?"

"I do not. He has not yet been able to converse much. He was dressed in the uniform of an officer."

"An officer! Perhaps it is he!" exclaimed Emily.

Dr. Vaudelier was much interested in the adventure, and the pale, anxious features of Emily excited his sympathy for her.

"As I dressed his wounds," said he, "I noticed the initials upon his linen. Perhaps these may afford some clue."

"What were they?" exclaimed Emily, scarcely able to articulate, in the intensity of her feelings.

"H.C."

"It is he! It is he! And you say he is wounded?"

"I am sorry to say he is."

"Can I go to him?" said Emily, grasping the doctor's arm.

"I fear your presence will excite him. Are you a relative?"

"No, not a relative," replied Emily, blus.h.i.+ng; "but I know he would like to see me."

"I do not doubt it," said the doctor, with a smile,--a luxury in which he rarely indulged. "I am afraid your presence will agitate him."

"Let me watch over him while he sleeps. He need not know I am near."

"Rather difficult to manage, but you shall see him. Will you return with me?"

"Thank you, I will. But poor Mrs. Swinger!" and a shade of anxiety crossed her features, as she thought of leaving her kind hostess in affliction.

"Her husband is a good nurse, and understands her case better than you do. If I mistake not, your services will be full as acceptable at my cottage."

Dr. Vaudelier tried to smile at this sally; but the effort was too much for him, and he sank under it.

Emily, though sorry to leave her protectress, was drawn by the irresistible magnetism of affection to Cottage Island. She compromised between the opposing demands of duty by promising herself that she would again visit the wood-yard.

She embarked with Dr. Vaudelier, and they were soon gliding down the mighty river on their way to Cottage Island. Emily had wished Hatchie to accompany her, as much for his safety as for her own; but the faithful fellow desired to stay at the wood-yard. They had before had an interview in relation to the will. Uncle Nathan, who had been made the custodian of it, had not been seen or heard from, and her case again seemed to be desperate. Hatchie a.s.sured her of his safety, and of his good faith. He had left him in the hold, and, with common prudence, the worthy farmer might have made his escape unharmed. Emily, who now regarded her devoted servant in the light of a guardian angel, had entire confidence in his reasoning and conclusions. Of Hatchie's motive in remaining at the wood-yard she had no conception. If she had had, she would probably have insisted on his attendance.

After the departure of Dr. Vaudelier and Emily, Hatchie went to the cabin, and took therefrom a carpet-bag belonging to Maxwell,--an article which, even in the hurry of his exit from the steamer, he had not omitted to take. With this in his hand, he proceeded to the out-building, to satisfy himself of the security of his prisoners; but Vernon had fled,--the wooden door of the shed had not been proof against his art. Hatchie was not disconcerted by this incident. Vernon, he was aware, was only a subordinate, who did his evil deeds for hire, and against him he bore no ill will. But it immediately occurred to him that the ruffian might have liberated Maxwell, and this would have utterly deranged his present plans. Taking from the shed a long rope, he proceeded to the other side of the cabin, where he had secured the attorney to the tree. To his great satisfaction he found the prisoner secure. Vernon did not see him, or was too intent on his own safety to bestow a thought upon his late employer.

Hatchie reached the scene of Maxwell's humiliation. Coolly seating himself on a log near the discomfited lawyer, and regarding him with a look of contempt, he proceeded to examine the fastenings of the carpet-bag. Maxwell spoke not; his pride was still "above par," and he returned Hatchie's contemptuous glances with a scowl of scorn and hatred. The attorney was in sore tribulation at the unexpected turn affairs had taken, and the future did not present a very encouraging aspect. Of the mulatto'a present intentions he could gain no idea. The long rope he had brought with him looked ominous, and a shudder pa.s.sed through his frame as he considered the uses to which it might be applied. As he regarded the cool proceedings of his jailer, the worst antic.i.p.ations crowded upon him. The mulatto looked like a demon of the inquisition to his guilty soul. But, tortured as he was by the most terrible forebodings, he still preserved his dignified scowl, and watched the operations of Hatchie with apparent coolness.

Hatchie examined the lock upon the carpet-bag, and found that it entirely secured the contents from observation.

"I will trouble you for the key of this bag," said he, politely, as he rose and approached the attorney.

"What mean you, fellow? Would you rob me?" exclaimed Maxwell.

"Not at all, sir; do not alarm yourself. The key, if you please. In which pocket is it?"

Hatchie approached, with the intention of searching his prisoner.

"Stand off, villain!" cried Maxwell, as he gave the mulatto a hearty kick in the neighborhood of the knee.

"Very well, sir," said Hatchie, not at all disconcerted by the blow.