"Thee has on the army blue; has thee been fighting any?"
"I didn't know black men were in the army; yet thee has lost a leg. Where did that go?"
"At Newbern,--ah! long ago? and how did it happen?"
"Fourteenth of March, sir. There was a land fight, and the gunboats came up to the rescue. Some of us black men were upon board a little schooner that carried one gun. 'Twasn't a great deal we could do with that, but we did the best we could; and got well peppered in return. This is what it did for me,"--looking down at the stump.
"I guess thee is sorry now that thee didn't keep out of it, isn't thee?"
"No, sir; no indeed, sir. If I had five hundred legs and fifty lives, I'd be glad to give them all in such a war as this."
Here somebody got out; the old Friend sat down; and the coal-heaver, roused by the stir, lifted himself from his drunken sleep, and, looking round, saw who was beside him.
A vile oath, an angry stare from his bloodshot eyes.
"Ye ----, what are ye doin' here? out wid ye, quick!"
"What's the matter?" queried the conductor, who was collecting somebody's fare.
"The matther, is it? matther enough! what's this nasty nagur doin' here? Put him out, can't ye?"
"Conductor!" spoke up a well-dressed man, with the air and manner of a gentleman, "what does that card say?"
The conductor looked at the card indicated, upon which was printed "Colored people not allowed in this car," legible enough to require less study than he saw fit to give it. "Well!" he said.
"Well," was the answer,--"your duty is plain. Put that fellow out."
The conductor hesitated,--looked round the car. Nobody spoke.
"I'm sorry, my man! I hoped there would be no objection when I let you in; but our orders are strict, and, as the passengers ain't willing, you'll have to get off,"--jerking angrily at the bell.
As the car slackened speed, a young officer, whom nobody noticed, got on.
There was a moment's pause as the black man gathered up his crutches, and raised himself painfully. "Stop!" cried a thrilling and passionate voice,--"stand still! Of what stuff are you made to sit here and see a man, mangled and maimed in _your_ cause and for _your_ defence, insulted and outraged at the bidding of a drunken boor and a cowardly traitor?" The voice, the beautiful face, the intensity burning through both, electrified every soul to which she appealed. Hands were stretched out to draw back the crippled soldier; eyes that a moment before were turned away looked kindly at him; a Babel of voices broke out, "No, no," "let him stay," "it's a shame," "let him alone, conductor," "we ain't so bad as that," with more of the same kind; those who chose not to join in the chorus discreetly held their peace, and made no attempt to sing out of time and tune.