THE DISAPPEARANCE OF JOHN ACKLAND.

Hawke's Bay Herald, Volume 14, Issue 1120, 21 January 1870, Page 3

THE DISAPPEARANCE OF JOHN ACKLAND.

I A TEUE STORY. IN THIRTEEN CHAPTEBS. — CHAPTEB XII. (From "All the Tear Round.") In the following extraordinary narrative nothing is fictitious but the names of the persons. Miss Caktwbight thanked the watchmaker for taking so much, care of her watch, and bringing it back to her, with his own hands. She begged that he would take some refreshment before leaving Glenoak, and remain there as long as he pleased. The weather was not very inviting ; but if he liked to ride or walk in the plantation, Mr. Spinks, the overseer, would show him over it. Mr. D'Oiley thanked Miss Cartwright for her kind condescension to " a poor overworked son of the busy city, miss. He was not much of an equestrian, and Mr. Cartwright's steeds had the reputation of being dangerous to bad riders, like himself. But there was nothing he liked so much as a good country walk on a fine frosty day ; and, with Miss Cartwright's kind permission, he would gladly take a stroll about these beautiful premises before returning to town. The first thing that roused Mr. D'Oiley's curiosity, when he commenced his stroll about the beautiful premises, was the shrieking of a miserable old negro who was wailing under the lash. " What is the man's fault ?" he inquired of the overseer who was standing by, to see that punishment was thoroughly inflicted. "Man, you call him, do you?" responded Mr. Spinks, " I call him, sir, a darned pig-headed brute. We can" i, none of us, get him to take that load of ice into the ice-house, and it's spoiling." " Well, but," said Mr. D'Oiley, " the load seems a heavy one, and he don't look good for much." " Good for much ? He ain't good for anything." " Why won't you take the ice, Sambo?" asked the watchmaker. " I ain't Sambo," said the negro, sullenly and cowering, " I'm Ned, old Uncle Ned." " Well, why won't you do as you're told, Uncle Ned ?" " 'Cause poor old Ned he no dare, massa. Old' Ned he no like Bogie in de ice-house. Bogie, he worse nor massa by night, and massa he worse nor Bogie by day. Poor Uncle Ned, he berry bad time of it." Mr. D'Oiley had another illumination. " Well now, you look here, Mr. Spinks. Reckon I'd like to buy that nigger o' you, sir. He ain't worth much, you know." " Well, sir, he ain't bright. That's a fact. But there's a deal o' field work in him yet. And he was raised on the plantation, you see, and knows it well." " Ah, indeed !" said the watchmaker, as though very much surprised to hear it. " Knows it well, does he P Say a hundred dollars for him, Mr. Spinks ?" " Not two hundred, sir." " Name your figure, sir." " Not less than a thousand, Mr. D'Oiley. I assure you, sir, Mr. Cartwright wouldn't hear of it. He's uncommon fond of this nigger. He's quite a partiality for this nigger, has Mr. Cartwright, sir." " Did you say a thousand, Mr. Spinks?" " I did, sir." " Split the difference, Mr. Spinks. Make it five hundred, sir." " Done, sir." "Done with you, sir," returned the watchmaker ; " and if you'll take my cheque for it, I'll carry him back in my buggy. Nothing like settling things at once." " Take your note. of hand for a million, sir," responded the overseer, delighted to have sold a broken-down nigger so advantageously, at double the market price. That very night the owner of Grlenoak returned unexpectedly to his ancestral mansion. His first act was to send for Mr. Spinks. " I want to see Uncle Ned, Mr. Spinks. Send the bruto up immediately." "Uncle Ned P < Why, Mr. Cartwright, I've just sold him, and very adrantageously. He's not been worth his keep for the last three years." Words cannot describe the frantic paroxysm of wrath into which Mr. Cartwright was thrown by this announcement. "But, indeed, Mr. Cartwright," expostulated the overseer, " I thought that, in your interest, when I found Mr. D'Oiley willing to give five hundred -" " You sold him to D'Oiley ?" " Yes, sir, this afternoon." " You villain !" howled Cartwright, springing at the throat of the overseer. But his humour suddenly changed. " Never mind, now," he growled, flinging the overseer against the wall, " the mischief's done now. Order round the waggon and team this moment, and bring me all the money you have in the house, and then get out of my sight." Mr. Cartwright strode up-stairs, and entered his daughter's room. " Virgy," he said, with a dim eye and a husky voice, " I'm going away — I'm going at once, and I'm going far, far, far. If you stay at Glenoak, Virgy, may-be we shan't meet again ; anyhow not for a long, long while. If you'll come with me we'll never part, my girl ; but the way's a long one, and tho future's dark as night, and there's danger behind us. What will you do, Virgy?" •' O father, father !" cried the frightened girl, "how can you ask ? I will never leave you !" That night, Philip Cartwright and his daughter left Glenoak, never to return. CHAPTEE XIII. It was about a fortnight after Glenoak had been, deserted by its owners that the much-injured Mr. Spinks, whilst debating with himself the knotty question whether it wore best to retain his situation, in the hope of further plunder, or to throw it up in vindication of his outraged dignity, was unpleasantly surprised by a second visit from Mr. D'Oiley, accompanied by Dr. Simpson, Judge Griffin, Mr. Inspector Tanin, and half a dozen constables. '• Now, Mr. Spinks," said Inspector Tanin, "you'll be good enough, if you please, sir, to set all hands on, to remove the ice out of that there ice-house of yours. I have a search- warrant, sir, to search these premises. And do you know what this is, Mr. Spinks ? It's a warrant for the arrest of Philip S. Cartwright, whensoever and .wheresoever he can be found in the territory of the United States." " On what charge ?" asked Mr. Spinks. " Murder," replied the inspector, laconically. Mr. Spinks was persuaded. Mr. CartwriglitVslavcs were ordered to open Mr. Cartw/ight's ice-house and remove the ice. Beit known to tho reader that every couutry-house in America is provided with au excellent ice-houso of the simplest and most practical kind. It consists of a deep excavation in the earth, roofed over with a pointed thatch. These ice-houses are always well filled in the winter, and rarely, if ever, quite emptied during the summer. It was long past dark before the men at work in the ice-house at Glenoak had removed all the loose ice from the pit. The lower layers were frozen as hard as granite, and could only be broken up by the pickaxe : so that the work went oil

slowly, by torohlight. At last; '. Mr. Inspeotor, who had descended jtiteltlie pit to superintend this final operatiohy«mlled to those above for a stout rope. The rope was not immediately forthcoming; and when the submissive Spinks (who had been despatched to get one from the carthouse) returned with it in his hand the excitement of the spectators was intense. Uncle Ned, at his most urgent request, had been exempted from the ordeal of this expedition, to G-lenoak. " Now pull !" cried Mr. Inspector from the bottom of the pit, " and pull gently." , The rope came up heavily. No wonder. There was a dead body fastened to the end of it. That dead body was the body of John Ackland. All present who had ever seen John Ackland recognised it at once, in despite of the lacerated skull and partially mangled features. For the ice had so wonderfully preserved the hideous secret confided to its frozen clasp, that the murdered man looked as freshly dead as if he had perished only an hour ago. In the subsequent search of Glenoak a copy of John Ackland's letter to his cousin was found in Mr. Cartwright's desk. He had not taken, the precaution of destroying it. Doubtless he had felt that if once the body of John Ackland were discovered at Grlenoak, it little mattered what else was discovered there. And when he learned from his overseer that Uncle Ned had been sold to D'Oiley, he knew that he was a ruined man, and that his paramount concern was to place himself as quickly as possible beyond the reach of the law. Mr. D'Oilev's triumph was great. He had worked hard for it. Never had he exercised so much ingenuity and patience as in the moral manipulation whereby he had finally elicited from Uncle Ned the revelations which had led to the discovery. This was the substance of them : Philip Cartwright, whilst riding with his unfortunate guest through his own plantation, had slackened pace, and falling a little to the rear of his companion's horse, deliberataly shot John Ackland through the" hack of the head. The wounded gentleman immediately fell from his saddle. Cartwright quietly alighted, and finding that_ there was still a faint flutter of life left in his victim, beat him about the head till he beat the life out of him with the butt-end of his gun. He then carefully examined the mare which Mr. Ackland had been riding, wiped every trace of blood from the saddle, turned it, and with a sharp cut of his whip started the beast into a gallop, in a direction away from the house. Thus, left alone with the dead body, his next? care was to dispose of it. All this happened in broad daylight, a good hour before sundown. Mr. Carfc- _ Wright's own slaves were still at work in the surrounding fields. They must have heard the report of the firearm; they might possibly have witnessed the fall of the victim. But what of that ? They were slaves. Philip Cartwright well knew that in no American court of justice could a white man be convicted of ©rime on the evidence of a man of colour. He knew i that none of his slaves could give- evidence against him, even if they had" witnessed every particular of his crime. Me tied j^s own horse to a tree, and walked! leisure, 1 Yto the gate of the field. Leaning over'i^ ne perceived some of his own negroes u^ "^ovk in the adjoining ground!;; amongst tv^ 111 . an °ld negro, whom lieknew by expt^ ence that he could intimidate and cow, i^-Ove easily even than the others. He beci'oaed this slave to him, and said coolly, as if it were the most natural announcement in the world, " I have just shot a man down ; you must come along, Uncle Ned, and help me to carry the body into the ice-house at Glenoak." It was late in the summer season, and the ice-house was nearly empty. Quite empty it never was. With some difficulty Cartwright and the slave removed the upper layer of ice, and buried the body underneath it. " And now look ye here," aaid Cartwright, "if ever yoia utter to a human being about what's in that icehouse, or what I've told you, or what you've just been doing, I'll flay you alive and roast you afterwards. Ab! the same I won't have any talking, or hinting, or winking. Do you understand? If you don't teach your eyes to forget -what they've seen, I'll gouge 'em out. If you don't teach, your ears to forget -what they've heard I'll cut 'em off. If you don't teach your tongue to be silent,. I'll tear it out by the roots. So now 3 r ou know what I mean. Get along "with you." Before burying John Ackland 's body, however, the murderer hail rifled the dead man, and re-possessed himself of the forged notes whick John Ackland (as Cartwright w ell knew) carried in the belt lent him by Cartwright expressly for that purpose. Unluckily for Mr. Cartwright, while he was engaged in this operation his eye was tempted by what Mr. D'Oiley had called " that very remarkable watch, sir," and he hastily thrust John Ackland's chronometer into his own pocket. But for this superfluous felony, in all human probability Philip Cartwright would have carried safely with him to his own grave the secret of his great crime. The first question asked by the present writer of the Virginian gentleman from whom he received the details of this strange story was, " How did Philip Cartwright die ?" " Well, you see the law couldn't reach him in Texas, which wasn't then annexed. But John Acldand's cousin, and some of his friends in the North, and some down here in Virginia, constituted themselves a committee of vengeance. They were sworn to have Philip Cartwright's life, but to have it according to law. They found him in Texas, not far over the border, where he had set up a faro bank ; and they disguised themselves, and they frequented the bank, and they played against Mm, and betted with him, till one night they succeeded in tempting him over the border, on the chance of plucking a fat pigeon there ; but the officers of justice were waiting for him there ; and by gad, sir, we arrested him, and tried him all square, and hanged him hard." " And his daughter ?" " Poor girl, she didn't long survive her journey to Texas, and the rough life she had of it there. It vpas better for her. She was spared the knowledge of her father's guilt, and the humiliation of his death, and she loved the blackguard to the last."