Thomas S. Gaines

Buried Alive Behind Prison Walls


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priceless one, but irreparable.

      The loss of the darkies is only a secondary matter of consideration. Niggers are a very cheap article at present, and the sentiments of your Northern Yankees are daily depreciating the value of slaves. It is strongly advocated and predicted in Europe that the United States will ere long have an Abolitionist President, and I have been thinking of selling about one-half of my niggers before there comes a permanent depression in the slave market.

      The day before I received your sad letter I promised to Tuebor & Co., manufacturing establishment, ten thousand bales of cotton at a pretty fair figure, and it was to be delivered by the last of the year. So you will please purchase all the available cotton from surrounding planters on the quiet, for the cotton market is rising very rapidly in Europe.

      I will come to you the latter part of next month and have another bell cast which I will bring with me, but do not expect that it will replace "Whistling Dick."

      Please have ten thousand bales ready for shipment by the time I arrive there.

      Remember I am yours as ever,

       W. H. PURGOO.

      The work of clearing away the debris was a herculean task, and it taxed the combined energy of the plantation for many weeks, for it was strewn with all kinds of rubbish imaginable. The place was covered with carcasses and drift wood to a depth that in many places covered the roofs of the cabins. Huge trees had been brought from miles away and hurled to the earth with their limbs downward and with sufficient force to bury them to a depth that left them standing inverted.

      Bell Ringing Joe lived beneath the roof of the building that supported "Whistling Dick," and the roof and bell were blown away in the cyclone and Uncle Joe was found bleeding and dying beneath the wreck.

      The whole plantation was one solid mass of desolation, and can only be pictured when the mind reflects upon the appearance of the Garden of Eden the morning after the receding of the waters of Noah's deluge. More than a month was earnestly devoted toward making any visible impression of restoring order on the place. Fallon was very anxious to have it regenerated before the arrival of Purgoo, for already the foul air arising from the damp earth, and the humid atmosphere was heralding the approach of that epidemical king of contagions, the yellow fever.

      All manner of tools and means of strength were brought into action. Fires illuminated the heavens night and day as they were slowly consuming the fallen trees, underbrush, etc. Spades, pick-axes and shovels were kept busy, and all the remaining beast of burden on the farm were constantly on the move. Perhaps, never before was a like number of human beings encumbered with such premonitions and laboring under such foreboding circumstances. For since the storm, both masters and slaves were confirmed in their convictions that the Purgoo Kingdom was being surrounded with all the plagues and accidents in the invisible chamber of horror, and that other mysterious and black shadows were slowly creeping down upon the place.

      And their surmisings were well-founded, for misfortunes and disasters traveled the earth in pairs, and the familiar tones of "Whistling Dick" was heard in mid air and Fallon's name written on stone with a pen of flame.

      For more than a month his time and attention had been occupied in a manner that prohibited him from purchasing the thousands of bales of cotton that Purgoo ordered in his letter, and during that time the news of Purgoo's disaster had been conveyed all over Europe, and all the great cotton establishments and manufactories had despatched their agents to America to buy cotton to tide them over the impending cotton crisis. All the cotton dealers in New Orleans, and in fact, Louisiana, had been divested of their cotton by these foreign agents. And when Fallon began to look for cotton bales, he found it was impossible for him to purchase only that of a very inferior grade, and unfit for shipment to a foreign market.

      All the cotton crops had been harvested and sold and not a score of bales could be purchased by Fallon and his men. When Fallon found out the situation he was in, cold drops of sweat poured from his brow, for he was aware of his financial position and knew that by his habitual bacchanaling and damage wrought by the storm, that Purgoo's financial ruin was inevitable. Fallon's inebriety and licentiousness alone had reached to an enormous figure during the last few years. He had frequently lost ten thousand dollars in the club room in one night, and had often flipped coppers for a thousand dollars a throw; and there was great discontent between the Northern and Southern States and the value of slaves was daily on the wane.

      * * * * * * *

      A few days prior to the time for Purgoo's arrival the plantation had begun to assume a more presentable appearance, although only a fraction of the cyclone's work had been eradicated; but many cabins and huts had been erected and the plantation had been supplied with stables, sheds, etc. All the buildings upon which the bells were hoisted had been rebuilt upon the same spot they had previously occupied. The three remaining bells were uninjured and "Whistling Dick" was to be replaced with the bell that Purgoo had spoken of in his letter.

      The day Purgoo arrived he looked steadily upon his place of ruin and said: "I was aware that a great damage had been done; but never had the least idea it was so thorough and complete as it is. Why, my plantation, when I last visited it five years ago, was the diamond of the Southern States; but now it is only an African swamp and filled with all manner of filth and rubbish, even to hooting owls and croaking frogs."

      Ever since the storm there had been considerable irregularity and delay in the progress of the work by being deprived of the most convenient means of signalizing the working hours. Consequently it was a few days after Purgoo's arrival before the bells were hoisted to the places which they were to occupy.

      The bell that Purgoo had brought was larger than "Whistling Dick," and had been detained at New Orleans on account of its cumbersomeness and weight, and was to be conveyed to Monroe by the first up-bound boat. "Weeping Mary," "Stuttering Dick" and "Singing Nancy" were swung into their places in the evening and in the morning their charming echoes were again heard on the farm.

      For more than a quarter of a century "Weeping Mary" had pealed forth its sad, sad tones; but never before had such lamentable echoes and complete strains of sadness been heard over the plantation. For a number of years "Whistling Dick" and "Weeping Mary" had been answering each other, and never before had the sound of "Weeping Mary" been heard when "Whistling Dick" did not follow. These bells had been answering each other until their echos seemed to be instantaneous and voluntary. Uncle Joe had frequently said that when you hear "Weeping Mary," "you is certain to hear 'Whistling Dick,' for if your Uncle Joe is not dar to rung him, den 'Whistling Dick' done gone and rung hesef."

      It was a beautiful day; not a cloud was visible between the green earth and the blue sky. The air was balmy and so clear that it seemed possible for the eye to wander upward until it pierced the very heavens. The noon hour was drawing near, and the silver whistle would soon again be heard and the bells signal the hour of rest. Three thousand human beings were anxiously waiting to hear the lamenting tones of "Weeping Mary," but they were unaware that the first peel of "Weeping Mary" would be answered by "Whistling Dick" in mid air.

      Imagination plays a very conspicuous part in establishing many of the inexplicable occurrences that torture our minds and frequently make us unhappy during life. But by our own experiences we are forced to believe that things do occur which are certainly extraordinary. There is nothing which could create such disquietude and make us more unhappy for the time being, than the mysterious or unaccountable sounds and echoes the origin of which we can neither demonstrate nor satisfactory fathom.