Soon after dark they arrived, and gave me a most cordial welcome.
Jupiter, grinning from ear to ear, bustled about to prepare some
marsh-hens for supper. Legrand was in one of his fits--how else shall
I term them?--of enthusiasm. He had found an unknown bivalve, forming
a new genus, and, more than this, he had hunted down and secured, with
Jupiter’s assistance, a scarabæus which he believed to be totally new,
but in respect to which he wished to have my opinion on the morrow.
“And why not to-night?” I asked, rubbing my hands over the blaze, and
wishing the whole tribe of scarabæi at the devil.
“Ah, if I had only known you were here!” said Legrand, “but it’s so long
since I saw you; and how could I foresee that you would pay me a visit
this very night of all others? As I was coming home I met Lieutenant
G--, from the fort, and, very foolishly, I lent him the bug; so it will
be impossible for you to see it until the morning. Stay here to-night,
and I will send Jup down for it at sunrise. It is the loveliest thing in
creation!”
“What?--sunrise?”
“Nonsense! no!--the bug. It is of a brilliant gold color--about the size
of a large hickory-nut--with two jet black spots near one extremity of
the back, and another, somewhat longer, at the other. The antennæ are--”
“Dey aint no tin in him, Massa Will, I keep a tellin on you,” here
interrupted Jupiter; “de bug is a goole bug, solid, ebery bit of him,
inside and all, sep him wing--neber feel half so hebby a bug in my
life.”
“Well, suppose it is, Jup,” replied Legrand, somewhat more earnestly,
it seemed to me, than the case demanded, “is that any reason for your
letting the birds burn? The color”--here he turned to me--“is really
almost enough to warrant Jupiter’s idea. You never saw a more brilliant
metallic lustre than the scales emit--but of this you cannot judge
till tomorrow. In the mean time I can give you some idea of the shape.”
Saying this, he seated himself at a small table, on which were a pen and
ink, but no paper. He looked for some in a drawer, but found none.
“Never mind,” said he at length, “this will answer;” and he drew from
his waistcoat pocket a scrap of what I took to be very dirty foolscap,
and made upon it a rough drawing with the pen. While he did this, I
retained my seat by the fire, for I was still chilly. When the design
was complete, he handed it to me without rising. As I received it, a
loud growl was heard, succeeded by a scratching at the door. Jupiter
opened it, and a large Newfoundland, belonging to Legrand, rushed in,
leaped upon my shoulders, and loaded me with caresses; for I had shown
him much attention during previous visits. When his gambols were over, I
looked at the paper, and, to speak the truth, found myself not a little
puzzled at what my friend had depicted.
“Well!” I said, after contemplating it for some minutes, “this is a
strange scarabæus, I must confess: new to me: never saw anything like it
before--unless it was a skull, or a death’s-head--which it more nearly
resembles than anything else that has come under my observation.”
“A death’s-head!” echoed Legrand--“Oh--yes--well, it has something of
that appearance upon paper, no doubt. The two upper black spots look
like eyes, eh? and the longer one at the bottom like a mouth--and then
the shape of the whole is oval.”
“Perhaps so,” said I; “but, Legrand, I fear you are no artist. I must
wait until I see the beetle itself, if I am to form any idea of its
personal appearance.”
“Well, I don’t know,” said he, a little nettled, “I draw
tolerably--should do it at least--have had good masters, and flatter
myself that I am not quite a blockhead.”
“But, my dear fellow, you are joking then,” said I, “this is a very
passable skull--indeed, I may say that it is a very excellent skull,
according to the vulgar notions about such specimens of physiology--and
your scarabæus must be the queerest scarabæus in the world if it
resembles it. Why, we may get up a very thrilling bit of superstition
upon this hint. I presume you will call the bug scarabæus caput hominis,
or something of that kind--there are many similar titles in the Natural
Histories. But where are the antennæ you spoke of?”
“The antennæ!” said Legrand, who seemed to be getting unaccountably warm
upon the subject; “I am sure you must see the antennæ. I made them
as distinct as they are in the original insect, and I presume that is
sufficient.”
“Well, well,” I said, “perhaps you have--still I don’t see them;” and
I handed him the paper without additional remark, not wishing to ruffle
his temper; but I was much surprised at the turn affairs had taken; his
ill humor puzzled me--and, as for the drawing of the beetle, there
were positively no antennæ visible, and the whole did bear a very close
resemblance to the ordinary cuts of a death’s-head.
He received the paper very peevishly, and was about to crumple it,
apparently to throw it in the fire, when a casual glance at the design
seemed suddenly to rivet his attention. In an instant his face grew
violently red--in another as excessively pale. For some minutes he
continued to scrutinize the drawing minutely where he sat. At length he
arose, took a candle from the table, and proceeded to seat himself upon
a sea-chest in the farthest corner of the room. Here again he made an
anxious examination of the paper; turning it in all directions. He said
nothing, however, and his conduct greatly astonished me; yet I thought
it prudent not to exacerbate the growing moodiness of his temper by any
comment. Presently he took from his coat pocket a wallet, placed the
paper carefully in it, and deposited both in a writing-desk, which he
locked. He now grew more composed in his demeanor; but his original air
of enthusiasm had quite disappeared. Yet he seemed not so much sulky as
abstracted. As the evening wore away he became more and more absorbed in
reverie, from which no sallies of mine could arouse him. It had been my
intention to pass the night at the hut, as I had frequently done before,
but, seeing my host in this mood, I deemed it proper to take leave. He
did not press me to remain, but, as I departed, he shook my hand with
even more than his usual cordiality.
It was about a month after this (and during the interval I had seen
nothing of Legrand) when I received a visit, at Charleston, from his
man, Jupiter. I had never seen the good old negro look so dispirited,
and I feared that some serious disaster had befallen my friend.
“Well, Jup,” said I, “what is the matter now?--how is your master?”
“Why, to speak de troof, massa, him not so berry well as mought be.”
“Not well! I am truly sorry to hear it. What does he complain of?”
“Dar! dat’s it!--him neber plain of notin--but him berry sick for all
dat.”
“Very sick, Jupiter!--why didn’t you say so at once? Is he confined to
bed?”
“No, dat he aint!--he aint find nowhar--dat’s just whar de shoe
pinch--my mind is got to be berry hebby bout poor Massa Will.”
“Jupiter, I should like to understand what it is you are talking about.
You say your master is sick. Hasn’t he told you what ails him?”
“Why, massa, taint worf while for to git mad about de matter--Massa
Will say noffin at all aint de matter wid him--but den what make him go
about looking dis here way, wid he head down and he soldiers up, and as
white as a gose? And den he keep a syphon all de time--”
“Keeps a what, Jupiter?”
“Keeps a syphon wid de figgurs on de slate--de queerest figgurs I ebber
did see. Ise gittin to be skeered, I tell you. Hab for to keep mighty
tight eye pon him noovers. Todder day he gib me slip fore de sun up and
was gone de whole ob de blessed day. I had a big stick ready cut for to
gib him deuced good beating when he did come--but Ise sich a fool dat I
hadn’t de heart arter all--he look so berry poorly.”
“Eh?--what?--ah yes!--upon the whole I think you had better not be too
severe with the poor fellow--don’t flog him, Jupiter--he can’t very well
stand it--but can you form no idea of what has occasioned this illness,
or rather this change of conduct? Has anything unpleasant happened since
I saw you?”
“No, massa, dey aint bin noffin unpleasant since den--‘twas fore den I’m
feared--‘twas de berry day you was dare.”
“How? what do you mean?”
“Why, massa, I mean de bug--dare now.”
“The what?”
“De bug,--I’m berry sartain dat Massa Will bin bit somewhere bout de
head by dat goole-bug.”
“And what cause have you, Jupiter, for such a supposition?”
“Claws enuff, massa, and mouth too. I nebber did see sick a deuced
bug--he kick and he bite ebery ting what cum near him. Massa Will cotch
him fuss, but had for to let him go gin mighty quick, I tell you--den
was de time he must ha got de bite. I did n’t like de look oh de bug
mouff, myself, no how, so I would n’t take hold ob him wid my finger,
but I cotch him wid a piece ob paper dat I found. I rap him up in de
paper and stuff piece ob it in he mouff--dat was de way.”
“And you think, then, that your master was really bitten by the beetle,
and that the bite made him sick?”
“I do n’t tink noffin about it--I nose it. What make him dream bout de
goole so much, if taint cause he bit by de goole-bug? Ise heerd bout dem
goole-bugs fore dis.”
“But how do you know he dreams about gold?”
“How I know? why cause he talk about it in he sleep--dat’s how I nose.”
“Well, Jup, perhaps you are right; but to what fortunate circumstance am
I to attribute the honor of a visit from you to-day?”
“What de matter, massa?”
“Did you bring any message from Mr. Legrand?”
“No, massa, I bring dis here pissel;” and here Jupiter handed me a note
which ran thus:
MY DEAR ----
Why have I not seen you for so long a time? I hope you have not been so
foolish as to take offence at any little brusquerie of mine; but no,
that is improbable. Since I saw you I have had great cause for anxiety.
I have something to tell you, yet scarcely know how to tell it, or
whether I should tell it at all.
I have not been quite well for some days past, and poor old Jup annoys
me, almost beyond endurance, by his well-meant attentions Would you
believe it?--he had prepared a huge stick, the other day, with which
to chastise me for giving him the slip, and spending the day, solus,
among the hills on the main land. I verily believe that my ill looks
alone saved me a flogging.
I have made no addition to my cabinet since we met.
If you can, in any way, make it convenient, come over with Jupiter.
Do come. I wish to see you to-night, upon business of importance. I
assure you that it is of the highest importance.
Ever yours, WILLIAM LEGRAND.
There was something in the tone of this note which gave me great
uneasiness. Its whole style differed materially from that of Legrand.
What could he be dreaming of? What new crotchet possessed his excitable
brain? What “business of the highest importance” could he possibly have
to transact? Jupiter’s account of him boded no good. I dreaded lest the
continued pressure of misfortune had, at length, fairly unsettled
the reason of my friend. Without a moment’s hesitation, therefore, I
prepared to accompany the negro.
Upon reaching the wharf, I noticed a scythe and three spades, all
apparently new, lying in the bottom of the boat in which we were to
embark.
“What is the meaning of all this, Jup?” I inquired.
“Him syfe, massa, and spade.”
“Very true; but what are they doing here?”
“Him de syfe and de spade what Massa Will sis pon my buying for him in
de town, and de debbils own lot of money I had to gib for em.”
“But what, in the name of all that is mysterious, is your ‘Massa Will’
going to do with scythes and spades?”
“Dat’s more dan I know, and debbil take me if I don’t blieve ‘tis more
dan he know, too. But it’s all cum ob do bug.”
Finding that no satisfaction was to be obtained of Jupiter, whose whole
intellect seemed to be absorbed by “de bug,” I now stepped into the boat
and made sail. With a fair and strong breeze we soon ran into the little
cove to the northward of Fort Moultrie, and a walk of some two miles
brought us to the hut. It was about three in the afternoon when we
arrived. Legrand had been awaiting us in eager expectation. He grasped
my hand with a nervous empressement which alarmed me and strengthened
the suspicions already entertained. His countenance was pale even to
ghastliness, and his deep-set eyes glared with unnatural lustre. After
some inquiries respecting his health, I asked him, not knowing what
better to say, if he had yet obtained the scarabæus from Lieutenant
G ----.
“Oh, yes,” he replied, coloring violently, “I got it from him the next
morning. Nothing should tempt me to part with that scarabæus. Do you
know that Jupiter is quite right about it?”
“In what way?” I asked, with a sad foreboding at heart.
“In supposing it to be a bug of real gold.” He said this with an air of
profound seriousness, and I felt inexpressibly shocked.
“This bug is to make my fortune,” he continued, with a triumphant smile,
“to reinstate me in my family possessions. Is it any wonder, then, that
I prize it? Since Fortune has thought fit to bestow it upon me, I have
only to use it properly and I shall arrive at the gold of which it is
the index. Jupiter; bring me that scarabæus!”
“What! de bug, massa? I’d rudder not go fer trubble dat bug--you mus git
him for your own self.” Hereupon Legrand arose, with a grave and
stately air, and brought me the beetle from a glass case in which it was
enclosed. It was a beautiful scarabæus, and, at that time, unknown to
naturalists--of course a great prize in a scientific point of view.
There were two round, black spots near one extremity of the back, and
a long one near the other. The scales were exceedingly hard and glossy,
with all the appearance of burnished gold. The weight of the insect
was very remarkable, and, taking all things into consideration, I could
hardly blame Jupiter for his opinion respecting it; but what to make of
Legrand’s concordance with that opinion, I could not, for the life of
me, tell.
“I sent for you,” said he, in a grandiloquent tone, when I had completed
my examination of the beetle, “I sent for you, that I might have your
counsel and assistance in furthering the views of Fate and of the bug”--
“My dear Legrand,” I cried, interrupting him, “you are certainly unwell,
and had better use some little precautions. You shall go to bed, and
I will remain with you a few days, until you get over this. You are
feverish and”--
“Feel my pulse,” said he.
I felt it, and, to say the truth, found not the slightest indication of
fever.
“But you may be ill and yet have no fever. Allow me this once to
prescribe for you. In the first place, go to bed. In the next”--
“You are mistaken,” he interposed, “I am as well as I can expect to be
under the excitement which I suffer. If you really wish me well, you
will relieve this excitement.”
“And how is this to be done?”
“Very easily. Jupiter and myself are going upon an expedition into the
hills, upon the main land, and, in this expedition we shall need the
aid of some person in whom we can confide. You are the only one we can
trust. Whether we succeed or fail, the excitement which you now perceive
in me will be equally allayed.”
“I am anxious to oblige you in any way,” I replied; “but do you mean to
say that this infernal beetle has any connection with your expedition
into the hills?”
“It has.”
“Then, Legrand, I can become a party to no such absurd proceeding.”
“I am sorry--very sorry--for we shall have to try it by ourselves.”
“Try it by yourselves! The man is surely mad!--but stay!--how long do
you propose to be absent?”
“Probably all night. We shall start immediately, and be back, at all
events, by sunrise.”
“And will you promise me, upon your honor, that when this freak of yours
is over, and the bug business (good God!) settled to your satisfaction,
you will then return home and follow my advice implicitly, as that of
your physician?”
“Yes; I promise; and now let us be off, for we have no time to lose.”
With a heavy heart I accompanied my friend. We started about four
o’clock--Legrand, Jupiter, the dog, and myself. Jupiter had with him the
scythe and spades--the whole of which he insisted upon carrying--more
through fear, it seemed to me, of trusting either of the implements
within reach of his master, than from any excess of industry or
complaisance. His demeanor was dogged in the extreme, and “dat deuced
bug” were the sole words which escaped his lips during the journey. For
my own part, I had charge of a couple of dark lanterns, while Legrand
contented himself with the scarabæus, which he carried attached to the
end of a bit of whip-cord; twirling it to and fro, with the air of a
conjuror, as he went. When I observed this last, plain evidence of my
friend’s aberration of mind, I could scarcely refrain from tears. I
thought it best, however, to humor his fancy, at least for the present,
or until I could adopt some more energetic measures with a chance of
success. In the mean time I endeavored, but all in vain, to sound him in
regard to the object of the expedition. Having succeeded in inducing
me to accompany him, he seemed unwilling to hold conversation upon any
topic of minor importance, and to all my questions vouchsafed no other
reply than “we shall see!”
We crossed the creek at the head of the island by means of a skiff; and,
ascending the high grounds on the shore of the main land, proceeded in a
northwesterly direction, through a tract of country excessively wild and
desolate, where no trace of a human footstep was to be seen. Legrand led
the way with decision; pausing only for an instant, here and there, to
consult what appeared to be certain landmarks of his own contrivance
upon a former occasion.
In this manner we journeyed for about two hours, and the sun was just
setting when we entered a region infinitely more dreary than any yet
seen. It was a species of table land, near the summit of an almost
inaccessible hill, densely wooded from base to pinnacle, and
interspersed with huge crags that appeared to lie loosely upon the soil,
and in many cases were prevented from precipitating themselves into the
valleys below, merely by the support of the trees against which they
reclined. Deep ravines, in various directions, gave an air of still
sterner solemnity to the scene.
The natural platform to which we had clambered was thickly overgrown
with brambles, through which we soon discovered that it would have
been impossible to force our way but for the scythe; and Jupiter, by
direction of his master, proceeded to clear for us a path to the foot of
an enormously tall tulip-tree, which stood, with some eight or ten oaks,
upon the level, and far surpassed them all, and all other trees which I
had then ever seen, in the beauty of its foliage and form, in the wide
spread of its branches, and in the general majesty of its appearance.
When we reached this tree, Legrand turned to Jupiter, and asked him if
he thought he could climb it. The old man seemed a little staggered
by the question, and for some moments made no reply. At length he
approached the huge trunk, walked slowly around it, and examined it with
minute attention. When he had completed his scrutiny, he merely said,
“Yes, massa, Jup climb any tree he ebber see in he life.”
“Then up with you as soon as possible, for it will soon be too dark to
see what we are about.”
“How far mus go up, massa?” inquired Jupiter.
“Get up the main trunk first, and then I will tell you which way to
go--and here--stop! take this beetle with you.”
“De bug, Massa Will!--de goole bug!” cried the negro, drawing back in
dismay--“what for mus tote de bug way up de tree?--d-n if I do!”
“If you are afraid, Jup, a great big negro like you, to take hold of
a harmless little dead beetle, why you can carry it up by this
string--but, if you do not take it up with you in some way, I shall be
under the necessity of breaking your head with this shovel.”
“What de matter now, massa?” said Jup, evidently shamed into compliance;
“always want for to raise fuss wid old nigger. Was only funnin any how.
Me feered de bug! what I keer for de bug?” Here he took cautiously hold
of the extreme end of the string, and, maintaining the insect as far
from his person as circumstances would permit, prepared to ascend the
tree.
In youth, the tulip-tree, or Liriodendron Tulipferum, the most
magnificent of American foresters, has a trunk peculiarly smooth, and
often rises to a great height without lateral branches; but, in its
riper age, the bark becomes gnarled and uneven, while many short limbs
make their appearance on the stem. Thus the difficulty of ascension, in
the present case, lay more in semblance than in reality. Embracing the
huge cylinder, as closely as possible, with his arms and knees, seizing
with his hands some projections, and resting his naked toes upon
others, Jupiter, after one or two narrow escapes from falling, at length
wriggled himself into the first great fork, and seemed to consider the
whole business as virtually accomplished. The risk of the achievement
was, in fact, now over, although the climber was some sixty or seventy
feet from the ground.
“Which way mus go now, Massa Will?” he asked.
“Keep up the largest branch--the one on this side,” said Legrand. The
negro obeyed him promptly, and apparently with but little trouble;
ascending higher and higher, until no glimpse of his squat figure could
be obtained through the dense foliage which enveloped it. Presently his
voice was heard in a sort of halloo.
“How much fudder is got for go?”
“How high up are you?” asked Legrand.
“Ebber so fur,” replied the negro; “can see de sky fru de top ob de
tree.”
“Never mind the sky, but attend to what I say. Look down the trunk and
count the limbs below you on this side. How many limbs have you passed?”
“One, two, tree, four, fibe--I done pass fibe big limb, massa, pon dis
side.”
“Then go one limb higher.”
In a few minutes the voice was heard again, announcing that the seventh
limb was attained.
“Now, Jup,” cried Legrand, evidently much excited, “I want you to work
your way out upon that limb as far as you can. If you see anything
strange, let me know.” By this time what little doubt I might have
entertained of my poor friend’s insanity, was put finally at rest. I had
no alternative but to conclude him stricken with lunacy, and I became
seriously anxious about getting him home. While I was pondering upon
what was best to be done, Jupiter’s voice was again heard.
“Mos feerd for to ventur pon dis limb berry far--tis dead limb putty
much all de way.”
“Did you say it was a dead limb, Jupiter?” cried Legrand in a quavering
voice.
“Yes, massa, him dead as de door-nail--done up for sartain--done
departed dis here life.”
“What in the name heaven shall I do?” asked Legrand, seemingly in the
greatest distress. “Do!” said I, glad of an opportunity to interpose
a word, “why come home and go to bed. Come now!--that’s a fine fellow.
It’s getting late, and, besides, you remember your promise.”
“Jupiter,” cried he, without heeding me in the least, “do you hear me?”
“Yes, Massa Will, hear you ebber so plain.”
“Try the wood well, then, with your knife, and see if you think it very
rotten.”
“Him rotten, massa, sure nuff,” replied the negro in a few moments, “but
not so berry rotten as mought be. Mought ventur out leetle way pon de
limb by myself, dat’s true.”
“By yourself!--what do you mean?”
“Why I mean de bug. ‘Tis berry hebby bug. Spose I drop him down fuss,
and den de limb won’t break wid just de weight ob one nigger.”
“You infernal scoundrel!” cried Legrand, apparently much relieved, “what
do you mean by telling me such nonsense as that? As sure as you drop
that beetle I’ll break your neck. Look here, Jupiter, do you hear me?”
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