THE LION OF LEWISBURG
Several years ago there lived on the “Lewisburg” rice plantation of former Governor Duncan Clinch Heyward, one Monday White, a yellow negro and a persistent and imaginative practical joker. The little “Devil’s Fiddles” which boys construct of empty tin cans and rosined string emit unchristian squeaks and groans when played upon with smooth hardwood sticks, and Monday believed that a similar device on a larger scale could be so manipulated as to frighten into hysterics half the negro population along Combahee River. Begging from the store a large empty powder keg, he surreptitiously rigged it up with stout twine which, well rubbed with rosin and scraped with a dry hickory stick for a bow, produced a hoarse and horrible sound which might have passed among the uninitiated for the roar of a lion—or for anything else.
Monday knew that the superstitious negroes feared most the unknown. The negro who would have taken a chance with alligator or bull, or the even more dangerous hind legs of a mule, could be scared stiff by a weird, unfamiliar sound in the woods at night. So Monday decided that the ear-jarring sound emitted by his double-bass “Devil’s Fiddle” should do service for the roar of a lion, as these creatures were unknown on Combahee, and the few negroes who had once seen lions when the circus visited Walterboro, brought back marvelous tales of their ferocity and their terrible voices.
Monday baited his victims skilfully. One Saturday night when the store was crowded with trading negroes, he led the conversation lionwards. He neededtales of terror, and the two or three negroes who had once seen lions were willing to oblige. One of them had even seen them fed. “W’en uh bin Walterburruh, uh look ’puntop one dem annimel fuh call lion, en’ uh shum w’en dem duh g’em ’e bittle fuh eat.”
“Nigguh g’em ’e bittle?
“No man, buckruh feed’um. Nigguh ent fuh feed’um. Da’ t’ing dainjus tummuch! Nigguh duh him bittle. Lion en’ nigguh alltwo come f’um Aff’iky, en’ w’en dem Aff’ikin king en’ t’ing hab lion een dem cage, ’e g’em uh nigguh fuh eat eb’ry day Gawd sen’, en’ ’e crack nigguh’ hambone een ’e jaw sukkuh dem Beefu’t nigguh crack crab claw’ w’en ’e done bile. Himdonefuh lub nigguh! W’en dem sukkus man fuh feed’um een Walterburruh, dem fetch half uh bull yellin’ fuh ’e bittle, en’ w’en da’ t’ing look ’puntop de meat, ’e tail t’rash’ ’pun de flo’ sukkuh nigguh duh t’rash rice ’long flail, en’ ’e gyap ’e mout’ same lukkuh Mistuh Jokok op’n ’e trunk mout’ fuh t’row uh flow ’puntop Mass Clinch’ rice! ’E woice roll lukkuh t’unduh roll, en’ w’en ’e holluh, eb’ry Chryce’ nigguh t’row ’e han’ obuh e’ two’ yez en’ run out de tent, en’ gone!”
“Tengk Gawd dem annimel nebbuh come ’puntop Cumbee!” a woman fervently exclaimed.
“Yaas, tittie,” said another, “ef da’ t’ing ebbuh come yuh, me fuh run Sabannuh. Uh nebbuh stop run ’tell uh done pass de Yamassee!”
Others joined in the trembling chorus and Monday, when they had become sufficiently worked up, shrewdly spilled the first spoonful of powder leading to his mine. “Oonuh nigguh, one buckruh binnuh talk ’puntop de flatfawm to W’ite Hall deepo dis mawnin’, en’ uh yeddy’um tell dem torruh buckruh suh one sukkus habuh acksident to Orangebu’g, en’ one lion git out ’e cage en’ run een de swamp en’ gone, en’ de buckruh try fuh ketch’um but dem ’f’aid fuh gone een de swamp, en’ dem sen’ dem dog attuhr’um, en’ de lion kill t’irteen beagle one time!”
“Oh Jedus!” cried an excited woman, “Uh berry ’f’aid da’ t’ing gwine come Cumbee! Hummuch mile Orangebu’g stan’ f’um yuh?”
“Uh dunno hummuch mile,” Monday replied, “but uh know lion kin mek’um ’tween middlenight en’ dayclean, en’ ef uh ebbuh yeddy ’e woice roll een dish’yuh swamp, meself gwine git een me trus’me’gawd coonoo en’ uh fuh gone down Cumbee ribbuh, en’ uh nebbuh stop paddle ’tell uh git Beefu’t!”
A week passed. Like the waves from a stone thrown into still waters, the lion stories spread among the outlying plantations in all directions. Saturday night found Monday early at the store. Another convenient buckra at White Hall station had told that morning of the lion’s escape from the Edisto and his crossing over the intervening pinelands into the Salkehatchie Swamp and, as most people know, the Salkehatchie River, below the line of the Charleston and Savannah railway, becomes the Combahee. The lion was loose, therefore, in their own proper swamp, and might even now be riding a floating log down the current of their beloved river!
Monday stealthily slipped out. An hour later, when the negroes in and about the store had worked themselves up to a delectable pitch of excitement, an unearthly groaning roar came from the woods nearby. The night was hot, but the negroes almost froze with fear, and the clerk, in whom Monday had confided,raised no objection when the negroes within the store called in their companions from the outside and asked permission to bar the door.
“Oonuh yeddy’um, enty! Wuh uh tell you ’bout da’ t’ing’ woice?” said the negro who had seen lions in Walterboro.
Monday’s “Devil’s Fiddle” groaned again, and as its dying notes trembled on the summer night, a rush was made to close and bolt the windows. The kerosene lamps smoked and flared in the fetid air. The men listened and shuddered as the recurrent roars, now muffled, reached their expectant ears. The women wailed. “O Gawd! uh lef’ me t’ree chillun shet up een me house,” cried one. “Uh ’spec’ da’ t’ing done nyam’um all by dis time!”
“Shet yo’ mout’, ’ooman,” said a masculine comforter. “Hukkuh him kin eat en’ holluh alltwo one time? Yo’ chillun ent fuh eat.”
“Me lef’ my juntlemun een de house,” said another woman, with resignation, “Uh ’spec’ him done eat.”
“Wuh you duh bodduh ’bout loss uh man?” said the mother. “Man easy fuh git tummuch. Me yent duh bodduh ’bout man. Uh kin git anodduh juntlemun ef da’ t’ing nyam my’own, but weh uh fuh git mo’ chillun?”
“Go’way, gal, ef you kin fuh git anodduh juntlemun, same fashi’n Gawd help you fuh git anodduh chillun.”
After a while the roaring ceased and the clerk, being perilously near suffocation, calmed the fears of the negroes and opened the windows. The trembling darkeys cocked their ears and listened apprehensively, but the shrilling of the Cicada among the pines and the bellowing of the bullfrogs in the distant canals were the only sounds that broke the silence of the night sorecently full of terrors. After awhile the door also was unbarred and opened, and a bold man borrowed an axe from the storekeeper and adventured far enough to cut some slabs of lightwood from a familiar stump. The hero added to his popularity by splitting these up and distributing them among the members of the gentler sex, whose escorts lighted torches and convoyed them in a body back to the quarters, where the children and husbands whom they left at home were found intact.
At church on Sunday, the Lewisburg negroes spread among their brethren from the other plantations the news of the coming of the lion, and the “locus pastuh” fervently touched upon the king of beasts. “Puhtec’ we, Maussuh Jedus, f’um da’ t’ing oonuh call lion. Lead’um, Lawd, to weh de buckruh’ cow en’ t’ing’ duh bite grass so him kin full ’e belly bedout haffuh nyam nigguh, en’ ef ’eyizhaffuh tek nigguh fuh ’e bittle, do, Lawd, mek’um fuh tek dem sinful nigguh wuh ent wut, en’ lef’ de Lawd’ renointed. Mek’um fuh do wid de good sistuh en’ bredduh ’puntop dis plantesshun same lukkuh oonuh mek’um fuh do long Dannil—” “Yaas, Lawd,” shouted Monday, the hypocrite, “ef ’eyizfuh eat nigguh, mek’um fuh eat dem nigguh ’puntop’uh Bonny Hall ’cross de ribbuh, en’ tek ’e woice out’uh we pinelan’.” “Yaas, Lawd!” “Please suh fuh do’um, Lawd!” shouted the fervent brethren and sisters. And stealthily, about two hours after dark that night, while the emotional negroes were alternately laughing, shouting and praying, Monday put his Devil’s Fiddle into a sack, slipped into his canoe, and, crossing to the opposite shore of the river, roared frightfully along the Bonny Hall water line, terrifying the negroes onthat plantation and filling the Lewisburg darkeys with thankfulness that their prayers had been answered.
Another week passed. Monday, playing with them as a cat plays with a mouse, kept quiet, until by Saturday night, no news having come of any damage at Bonny Hall, the Lewisburg negroes hoped that the lion had been captured by “de sukkus buckruh,” or had left the neighborhood, and soon after nightfall, half the plantation gathered at the store.
About nine o’clock, when the store was jammed with briskly trading negroes, from afar in the woods came the ominous roar of the hand-made lion. It was distant, and the negroes, while badly frightened, stood their ground to await developments, but a few minutes later the awful sound came again from a nearer point, and by the time the roaring had come within a quarter of a mile of the place, the negroes were panic-stricken, and most of them hurried from the store and ran to the quarters, where they bolted themselves in, to pass a night in fear and trembling, for at intervals until past midnight, their ears carried terror to their souls. On Sunday, Monday, wearing the sanctimonious expression of a cat that has just swallowed the canary, moved among them, listening with sympathetic ears to the tales of perilous adventures that some of them had experienced. “Bredduh W’ite,” said a church sister, “lemme tell you. Las’ night uh gone to Sistuh Bulow’ house attuh daa’k. Uh did’n’ bin to de sto’, ’cause las’ week de buckruh credik me, en’ uh ’f’aid ’e gwine ax’me fuh pay’um wuh uh owe’um, en’ uh gi’ Sistuh Bulow de money fuh buy me rashi’n’ en’ t’ing’, en’ uh seddown een ’e yaa’d fuh wait ’tell ’e come back. Him house ent dey een nigguhhouse yaa’d, ’e stan’ to’eself ’pun de aige uh de pinelan’. Bumby uh yeddy da’ t’ing’ woice. W’en uh yeddy’um fus’, ’e bin fudduh, en’ uh t’awt ’e bin Jackass duh holluh, but w’en ’e git close, uh ruckuhnize ’e woice, en’ uh know ’e duh lion. Uhdat’f’aid, uh cyan’ talk. Uh trimble sukkuh mule’ shoulduh duh shake off cowfly. W’en da’ t’ing come t’ru de bush en’ look ’puntop me, me two eye’ pop’ out me head! ’E stan’ high mo’nuh Mass Clinch’ mule. ’E yeye shine lukkuh dem fiah buckruh does mek ’puntop’uh Jackstan’ duh pinelan’ duh summuhtime fuh keep off muskittuh! W’en ’e op’n ’e jaw, ’e t’roat red lukkuh beef haslett! ’E mout’ full’up wid teet’ sukkuh harruh, en’ blood duh drip out ’e jaw sukkuh water drap outuh nigguh mout’ w’en ’e look ’puntop’uh watuhmilyun! W’en uh shum stan’ so, uh drap’ ’puntop me two knee’ en’ uh baig’ me Jedus fuh sabe me! Uh dat ’f’aid, uh shet me yeye’, en’ w’en uh done pray en’ op’n’um’ ’gen, de t’ing gone!” And so on, each tale of dreadful experience told by one negro, being over-matched by the next, who, if one gave “free rein” to her imagination, would be sure to strip the bridle off her’s and throw it away. “Meself shum,” related a 20th Century Munchausen in petticoats. “Uh bin down de road uh piece ’bout two hour’ attuh daa’k fuh try fuh ketch da’ gal, ’cause uh kinduh ’spishun my juntlemun, en’ uh binnuh folluh ’e track fuh ketch’um, but uh nebbuh ketch’um yet, but uh gwine fuh ketch’um, ’cause uh got me yeye ’puntop da’ gal f’um W’ite Hall wuh tote dem bottle en’ t’ing onduhneet’ ’e frock fuh sell rum to all dese man eb’ry Satt’d’y night, en’ mek’um fuh t’row ’way dem money ’stead’uh g’em to dem wife en’ t’ing’, en’ uh bin swif’ ’pun da’ gal track, ’cause yistidd’y w’en my juntlemun git pay’off fuh ’e wu’k, ’e come en’ pithalf ’e money een me han’ befo’ uh kin ax’um fuhr’um, en’ da’ t’ing mek me fuh know him duh fool me. Uh look ’puntop’um en’ uh shum duh grin. Sattifaction duh run roun’ da’ nigguh mout’ same lukkuh puppy run roun’ de yaa’d attuh ’e own tail! Uh know man tummuch, en’ w’en ’e stan’ so, ’e yent fuh trus’! Eb’ry time man gi’ money to ’e lawfully lady, ’e h’aa’t duh cry, en’ w’en him look lukkuh ’e glad fuh g’em, ’e face duh lie, ’e try fuh kibbuh up ’e h’aa’t, en’ ’e done mek’up ’e min’ fuh fool’um, but me! uh got uh ecknowledge fuh look t’ru ’e face, en’ w’en uh look ’puntop ’e h’aa’t, ’e stan’ crookety ez uh cowpaat’! Da’ gal kin fool some dem todduh ’ooman, but ’e yent fuh fool me! Him hab two petticoat’, one mek out’uh homespun clawt’, lukkuh we’own, en’ todduh one hab skollup’, lukkuh buckruh lady’ own. W’en him hab on de clawt’ petticoat, none de man nebbuh bodduhr’um, but w’en ’e walk t’ru Lewisbu’g nigguhhouse yaa’d wid da’ skollup’ petticoat staa’ch’stiff, en’ ’e frock hice up high fuh show’um, en’ dem man look ’puntop de skollup en’ yeddy de staa’ch duh talk ‘she, she, she’ w’en ’e walk, demknowsuh ’e got rum fuh sell—dat duh ’e sign—dem t’roat’ biggin fuh dry, en’ dem eb’ry Gawd’ one pick uh chance fuh folluhr’um, but dem todduh ’ooman, dem t’ink suh man lub da’ skollup’ t’ing ’cause ’e stylish, en’ dem study ’bout git skollup’ petticoat demself fuh mek man fuh folluhr’um, but duh nutt’n’ but de pyo’ rum dem man dey attuh. Dem fuh folluh da’ gal ef ’e petticoat mek out’uh grano sack!
“W’en uh did’n’ ketch de gal, uh staa’t’ fuh gone home, en’ uh look ’way off t’ru de pinelan’ en’ uh see two t’ing duh shine sukkuh injine headlight! Uh look ’gen, ’e come close, en’ uh see ’e duh annimel eye! Bumby’e op’n’ ’e mout’ fuh holluh. Spaa’k’ duh come outuhr’um en’ ’e woice roll ’tell de groun’ shake. Uh nebbuh hab no time fuh pray. W’en uh see da’ fiah come out ’e mout’, uh tell’um, ‘so long, bubbuh,uh gone!’ en’ uh hice me ’coat en’ uh tek me two foot een me han’ en’ uh nebbuh study ’bout no road. Uh gone slam t’ru de bush! Brian ’cratch’ me, uh dunkyuh. Jackwine’ ketch’ me foot en’ obuht’row me, uh jump up, uh gone ’gen! One harricane tree bin ’cross de paat’, uh bus’ t’ru’um sukkuh fiah gone t’ru broom grass fiel’. Nutt’n’ nebbuh stop me, ’cause, bubbuh,uh run! W’en uh git een de big road, uh hog binnuh leddown fuh tek ’e res’. Wen ’e yeddy me foot duh beat groun’, ’e jump up fuh run, but uh obuhtek’um dat swif’, me foot kick’um ez uh gwine, en’ uh yeddy’um holluh behin’ me sukkuh tarrier duh graff’um by ’e yez! Briah tayre off me frock ’tell, time uh git nigguhhouse yaa’d, uh yent hab nutt’n’ lef’ but me shimmy, en’ w’en dem nigguh look ’puntop me dem t’ink uh sperrit come out de ’ood. Uh run een me house, uh shet me do’, en’ uh nebbuh come out ’gen ’tell sunhigh!”
Monday inclined his ear and listened to the negroes, but he showed them no mercy, and before the end of the third week his lion became so bold that a roar came even in broad daylight from among the reeds along the river bank, frightening the laborers out of the fields and even prompting a neighboring planter to order his foreman to lock up the mules for safety when he saw the hands flying in terror from the ricefields! At last, to avoid industrial paralysis, the owner of the plantation, discovering Monday’s plot, suppressed the powder keg lion. And the master saved his people, the Halcyon nested again on the waves of the Combahee,bringing peaceful days and peaceful ways to the Lewisburg plantation, with nothing more exciting than the quest of “da’ skollup’ petticoat,” but—“that’s another story.”