Stringtown on the Pike

A Novel by John Uri Lloyd

Chapter Three

THE LOST DEED

He closed and locked the door, then untied the curtain string and lowered the green paper curtains, and next climbed the ladder I had seen him descend, telling me to follow him. He opened the cover of an iron chest, and, after fumbling about inside it, asked me to look into its depths. The bottom was covered with a layer of bright gold coins, of which Cupe took a few pieces and then secured a large folded paper, yellowed with age, covered with red seals of wax and tied with a dull ribbon that once perhaps had been of some bright colour. Together we descended to the room below, where Cupe showed the paper and the gold to his master.

The "Corn Bug" stared in amazement, and was reaching for the money when Cupe stopped him.

"Yo' can't tech de gol', Ma'se, de gol' am not fo' yo'."

"Give me the paper," the man impulsively demanded.

"Heah am de dokyments, Ma'se, de papah what ole Colonel, yoah gran'pap say ter my pap would gib you-uns all de lan's yo' can see from de top ob ole Hick'ry."

The white man took the paper turned it about, eyed it curiously, and then handed it back to Cupe. He could not read.

"Yo' see, Ma'se," said Cupe, "de sign says dat yo' wah not t' read dis papah; it wah to be read by de boy who saw de sky cross in Bloody Hollah."

"Here's the boy," said the "Corn Bug," "but I hai n't heard him say nuthin' 'bout no sky cross."

Old Cupe turned toward me, and as he did so the negro crone half fose from her place and leaned partly out of the shadows.

"Tole us 'bout de sky cross yo' saw," said Cupe.

I shook my head.

"Dah wah a cross in de sky, an' a cross on de earf, chile ?"

I nodded.

"An' yo' saw de hant?"

"Yes, yes, I saw it."

"An mu'd'hin ?"

"Yes, and murdering, too."

"De cross am gone, an' de blood am gone an'dried dese yeahs dat's gone, but de hant move on. Back t' yoah place, Dinah, yo' brack fool !"

Dinah sand into her former position, and Cupe turned to his master. "De boy what see de cross am t' read de papah, hab not Cupe done tole yo' ? An' de boy what seed de cross am heah."

The "Corn Bug" seemed not to be surprised at the corroboration I gave of Cupe's prediction. "Adzacly," he said, "adzacly."

I took the document and after laborious study managed to decipher it. Even then none of us understood more than the general purport of the paper. But old Cupe had faith in its authenticity. He exultingly cried, when I had laboriously spelled out the last word:

"Cupe done tole yo' so, Ma'se; now what yo' got t' say 'bout de tracks in de ashes, an' de figgah in de fiah, and' de uddah tings what Cupe saw, an' yo' couldn't understan' an' will nebbah know how he saw dem ?"

"Why did n't yo' give me that paper long ago ?" demanded the "Corn Bug." "Where hev yo' kept these things? I hev seen inside of thet empty old chest often."

"Take care, honey, take care; doan ax quistions too libely; 't ain't safe t' fool wid dese heah sollum' tings like white folks does wid book readin'." Then Cupe, growing more serious, added:

"Ma'se when de new yeah come yo' an' Cupe 'll part. Dese chillun air t' take yoah place, Ma'se, fo' yo'll go t' yoah long home. Dat ting am sart'n, Ma'se, de long home am suah t' come. Cupe measure' de cedah limbs ag'in t'-day, and' de young sprout on de long limb stan' six feet from de body ob de tree. Dah am room fo' a coffin undah dat limb suah, an' yo' know yo' wah de man what sot out dat cedah tree."1

"Yes, an' will plant another next spring."

"Plant'n' will be done in de new yeah, an' yo' will be dah, but yo' won't hole de spade, an' it won't be a tree what's planted. Hab not Cupe done tole yo' ob what's suah t' come t' de man what set out a cedah ? Ma'se, when de robins flock nauth t' de roost ob ebenin', yoah ear won't heah de chirpin' voices; when de sugah watah drips in de Feb'uary sunshine, yo' tongue won't taste de sweetness ob de sap, an' yoah eye won't see de brightness ob de sun; an' when de wahm wind blow an' de snow melt in de spring, yoah cheek won't feel de breff dat come out ob de souff."

"Ef I lis'n to yo', Cupe, I would stop breathin' in order to save my life. Yo' hev a sign fer everything."

"Suah yo' will stop breevin' 'case de dawg Dgawge Wash'n't'n see yoah hant an' de cedah limb on de tree yo' sot am long nuff t' cubah a coffin. De tree am ready, de groun' am ready, an' de spade am waitin' in de shed. But dah am mo'ah t' say t' yo', fo' de uddah sign say dat ole Cupe, who nebbah desahted yo' in life, won't be by yo' side when de las' call am made. Yo' will hab comp'ny, Ma' se, comp'ny heah whey yo' start, an' comp'ny on de way dahabouts. Cupe doan 'tend t' say jes wha' yo' air gwine, er how long de new partner 'll stick t' yo' an' de sign doan say wheddah de landin' place am hot er cole. But when yoah heaht am still an' de mouf am shet tight, de syes am closed ahftah de silver qua'tahs am taken off, de heels air close t'geddah, an' de toes p'int up, when de cubbah ob de box am screwed down, ole Cupe 'll be back by yoah side a'gin. An' when yo' air laid in de groun' undah de cedah tree yo' planted, close beside yo' deah muddah, who rest undah de limb ob de weepin' willer, an' who go t' glory when yo' wah bohn, ole Cupe 'll be dah. Bettah yo' begin t' git ready fo' dem tings what is p'dicted an' bettah yo' make yo'se'f good wid de pahson, 'case de pahson am might'ly mixed in yoah affairs, Ma'se, an' dese chillun am mixed too. De signs wahn't quite clear when Cupe read dem dat night, dah wah shaddahs, but de omen on the harf done mix de affairs ob yo' an' de pahson. Doan yo' know, Ma'se, dat when yo' fin' dis baby gearl on de Bloody Hollah grabe dat ole Cupe say taker home an' her mate 'll follah 'cse de sign say so ? an' hab yo' not done growl an' cuss ole Cupe an' cuss de sign, ah, doan yo' lub de chile now like she wah yo' own, honey ? an' ain't de boy heah now ?"

"Nigger nonsense," said the "Corn Bug."

" 'Tain't safe t' 'fy sollum' tings; bettah shake han's wid de pahson, Ma'se; nebbah min' de nigger nonsense, make fren's wid de pahson, case dah come a time when de pahson skeah off de fiah bran' an' keep off de debbil too."

"I've no use fer Pahson Jones er his mummery. When next I see the pahson, I'll show yo' how I make friends with his likes."

"De signs am, Ma'se," continued Cupe, heedless of his master's scoffing, "dat Cupe'll stay in de cabin ahftah yo' am gone; de gearl 'll stay, an' de boy 'll come ag'in."

He stopped, went to the fire, and gazed intently into the mouldering embers, then slowly said: "De boy'll come ag'in t' de cabin in de night-time. De sun am shinin' on both dere heads, but a cloud am risin'. De boy am gone, but bress de Lawd, honey, Cupe am still heah wid de gearl."

Then after a pause he stirred the ashes, smoothed them out, moved his fingers over the surface, seeming to read from the embers as one reads from a book.

"De gearl am in trouble an' go from de cabin; she go' t' de boy; it am in a big house; she kneel on de flo' befo' de boy an' de boy cubbahs his face wid his han's an' shades his head." With a puzzled look the negro began mumbling unintelligibly, made another little pile of ashes and flattened it out, then spoke again:

"De gearl wid bended head an' tear mark on de cheek come slowly back t' de cabin, dis same cabin, lookin' behin' her to'wards de boy. De boy am in a cu'yus place, wid glass fixin's an' bottles all 'roun' de room; but he am sah'erin' too an' am lookin' back to'ards de gearl. Dey am not chillun now; he am a man, an' she am as pretty es a peach. Lawd, Lawd, honey; but Cupe am still wid her. She am monstrous sah'ful, a' her eyelids am swelled; she come back t' de cabin an' cry an' moan, an' t'row her arms 'roun' old brack Cupe's neck, an' den she an' Cupe go up t' de mount'ns. Bress yoah soul, chile; bress yoah soul, honey; God bress yo', honey; God bress yo'!"

Old Cupe arose and picked up the child, hugged her to his bosom and stroked her dishevelled hair with his bony fingers, before he returned to his incantations. Another period of mummery with the ashes and Cupe laughed aloud: "De clouds am gone, an' de sun shine, but it shones fru brush. De chillun am t'geddah in de ole Kaintuck lan'. T'ank de Lawd, Ma'se!" exclaimed the old negro, then suddenly he drew back and stared into the embers, saying to himself: "What's de meanin' ob dis? Smoove dem ashes out, Dinah, 'case sump'n' am wrong wid de sign." Suiting her actions to his words, Dinah leaned over and smoothed the ashes with her long, bony fingers, then sat in the shadows, swaying her body back and forth, humming a soft, low song, without words. I crept timidly forward, and gazed over the shoulder of the kneeling seer. I saw that he took three short bits of brown straw and laid them parallel on the perfectly smooth ash surface, the fragments being about three inches apart. "Dah am a new face stan'in wha' de boy stood, it air a boy wid a red head. Dis am de newcomah, de red-head boy," he said, pointing to one straw; "dis am de boy out ob Bloody Hollah," pointing to the second straw; "did am de honey gearl," pointing to the third. Then, as he spoke, it seems to me that I saw a marvellous thing: -- that a perfect coffin-like tracing form crept about the straw of the newcomer, and then that straw caught fire. Old Cupe chuckled, pointing to the straw which represented myself. After a lapse of some minutes this also became surrounded by a similar mark that grew before my eyes; then it began to burn, and almost simultaneously the last straw, that representing the girl, turned black, then changed into white ashes, snow-white ashes, but I swear it did not burn. Old Cupe threw himself upon the floor and moaned in apparent distress. He did not interpret the result of his incantation other than by this emotion, but quickly arose, and took me by the hand: "Chile," he said, "yo'll sleep in de bed upstairs, an' Cupe 'll sleep on de flo' by yoah side. Come, chile, it am late in de night, come."

I was too much exhausted to do anything but sleep, yet that night I dreamed. It seemed to me that once I opened by eyes to find old Cupe standing by my bed in the light of the moon that streamed through the little window, mumbling to himself, moving his bony fingers over and near my face as he had done over and near the ashes, and I caught the words: "Cupe bettah strangle de life out ob him now; but cussed am de pusson who breakes de workin's ob de spell." Next morning I was awakened by a searcher, for the country had been aroused over my absence, and when I reached my home and was folded in the arms of my mother the influence of the night's strange incidents disappeared.

Typed by Avi Hathor, M. S., Big Bone University, Big Bone, Kentucky.

*****

Note: "yoah long home" comes from Ecclesiasties chapter 12, and means the grave.

1 The negroes believed that death would come to the man who transplanted a cedar tree, when the lower limbs grew to be the length of his coffin.

The practice of the seer here is called spodomancy: "divination by interpreting ashes, soot, or cinders, usually from sacrificial fires or burnt offerings" , less commonly known as tephramancy. Note an example in the following poem:
I will read ashes for you, if you ask me.
I will look in the fire and tell you from the gray lashes
And out of the red and black tongues and stripes,
I will tell how fire comes
And how fire runs far as the sea.

Carl Sandburg (1878–1967),"Smoke and Steel", 1922.
X. Panels "Fire Pages"

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