The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1897-05-29
CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER V.
In corner of the Cathedral grave.
yard at Spanish Town, overhung by
big spreading mango tree, and
thickly covered by prickly scrub of
agave and cactus, the white haired
old mulatto gentleman led Cecil Nit
ford up to water-worn and wealth
cred stone, on which few crumb.
ling letters alone were still visible.
Cecil kneeled down on the bare
ground, regardless of the sharp cac-
tus spines that stung and tore his
flesh, and began clearing the moss
and lichen away from the neglected
monument. Yes, his host was right!
right, right, right, individually.
The first two letters were 10, then
blank where others were obliter-
ated, and then came ANN. That
stood clearly for IoHN CANN. And
below he could clearly trace out the
words, "Born at go. vey Ira.
Devon. :" with an illegible date,
died at p. Royal, May II, 1862"
Oh, great heavens, yes. John Cams
grave! John CAMS gravel John
CAMS gravel Beyond any shadow
or suspicion of mistake, John Cam
and his precious secret lay buried be-
low that Wondering tombstone.
That very evening Cecil Milford
sought out and found the Spanish
Town gravedigger. He was a SOL
emn-looking middle-aged black man,
with keen smart face, not the
wrong sort of man, Cecil Milford
felt sure, for such a job as the one
he contemplated.
Cecil didn't beat about the bush
or temporize in any way. He went
straight to the point, and asked the
man, outright, whether he would
undertake to open John Cams grave,
and find paper that was hidden in
the coffin. The gravedigger stared
at him, and answered slowly, 81
don't like de job, sab; don't like
de job. Perhaps Massa John CAMS
ghost, him come and trouble me for
dat: I don't going to do it. What
you glib me, sab; how much you glib
me?"
Cecil opened his purse and took out
of it ten gold sovereigns. 81 will give
you that" he said, eff you can get
me the paper out of John Cams cof-
fin."
The Negroes eyes glistened, but he
answered carelessly, II don't tink |
can do it. don't want to open grade
by night, and if l open him by day,
de magistrates dem will hab me up
for dissertation OBJ interment. But I
can do dis for you, sab. If you like
to wait till some buckra gentleman
die-John Cam grade among de
white man side in de grabeyard-I
will dig grade alongside OBJ John
Cam one day, SO let you come your
self in the night and take what you
like out OBJ him coffin. | don't go
meddle with coffin myself, to make
de John Cam duppy trouble me, and
magistrate send me off about me bus
mess"
1t was risky thing to do, certain
ly, but Cecil Milford closed with it,
and promised the man ten pounds if
ever he could recover John Cams
paper. And then he settled down
quietly at Leigh Caymanas with his
friendly host, waiting with eager,
anxious expectation-till some white
person should die at Spanish Town.
What an endless, aimless time it
seemed to wait before anybody could
be comfortably buried! Black peo-
pie died by the score, of course; there
was a smallpox epidemic on, and
they went to wakes over one an
others dead bodies in wretched how
els among the back alleys, and
caught the infection and sickened and
died as fast as the widest imagination
could wish them; but then they were
buried apart by themselves in the
pauper part of the Cathedral ceme-
terry. Still, no white man caught the
smallpox, and few mulattoes; they
had all been vaccinated, and nobody
got i'll except the poorest negroes.
Cecil Milford waited with almost
fiendish eagerness to hear that some
prominent white man was dead or dy-
ing.
A month, six weeks, two months,
went slowly past, and still nobody of