Sunshine Johnson, Murderer

== SUNSHINE JOHNSON, MURDERER ==
=== By Luke Sharp ===
Originally published in Tavistock Tales 1894
Seeing the two men together and knowing that one of them was a murderer,
there was one chance in a thousand that the visitor would pick out the right
roan as the criminaL The white man sat on an easy canvas camp-chair. He was a
tall, thin man, with a stem, forbidding look on his face that might have been
caused by remorse, but which, more' probably, was caused by dyspepsia. There
were certain inflexible lines about his -mouth which showed him to be a man of
great determination, and his firm-set lips were lips that appeared never to
smile. His sharp eyes had a clear and steady look in them that went through a
man, and few of those around him cared to meet those eyes when there was a
spark of anger in them. He was such an unerring judge of character that he had
come to believe he could not make a mistake, which is a dangerous state of
thinking for a man in his position, because a mistake made by him might mean
death to somebody. Nevertheless, he trusted people that no one else would think
of trusting, and his trust was rarely taken advantage of. This man was J. S.
Flint, the head of Tall Mountain Penitentiary. 
The black man who stood beside him, and who was receiving some
instructions from him, had the smiple, trustful, child-like face which is so
often found in the negro race. He seemed to have difficulty in keeping his
broad mouth from relaxing into a smile; and only the fact that he was talking
with the Master of the Penitentiary kept down his exuberant good nature. No
convict would take the liberty to smile while Jackson Flint talked to him, but
this negro was a privileged character even if he wore the striped suit of an
inmate of the Penitentiary. He was Sunshine Johnson, in for life, a murderer,
yet on his aim rested Jackson Flint's Uttle curly-headed daughter, aged six,
and her arms were round the negro's black neck and her fair cheek was pressed
close to his dusky face. The murderer was one of the convicts that Jackson
Flint trusted. He had certainly an easy time of it ; he waited on the table,
took care of the children and did any odd job about the house. The negro was
called " Sunshine " by every one around the camp. Doubtiess he had
not been christened that name, but he had been called by it before he entered
the Penitentiary, and by that name he was known on the books of the
institution. If a visitor, attracted by his name or his beaming countenance, so
full of good nature and love of all humanity, asked the Superintendent who he
was, Flint's brows would knit together in a frown as he answered, shortly, "
A lifer; " if the visitor still pressed for information as to his crime,
the frown grew deeper and the answer gruffer — "A murderer.'^ Most people
gave a gasp at this bit of information as they saw the negro playing with the
pretty child of the Superintendent ; but Jackson Flint was not a man anyone
would care to ask personal questions of, and if the astonishing state of things
caused a look of surprise to come over the visitor's face, the look was seldom
translated into speech. Sometimes the inquisitive visitor sought information
from Sunshine himself. When asked about his crime Sunshine always looked
embarrassed and generally cast an appealing glance at the questioner. He stood
on one bare foot and slowly rubbed the ankle of it with the toe of his other foot,
while a look of perplexity came over his countenance. 
" Foh de Lohd, boss, I dunno much about it, dat's de truf. I
'spects I killed de man. He's daed anyhow, and somebody done it, and dey said
it was me ; yes, dey proved dat at de Cohts. You see I was drunk at the time,
and I dunno anything at all about it. 'Spects dat's de reason dey didn't hang
me at the time. I'se very sorry I done it if I did do it." And then
Sunshine would make an excuse to run away and play with his little charge. 
The Penitentiary was little more than a camp composed of rough wooden
buildings, and was situated on a spur of the mountain overlooking the great,
deep valley, fjrom the bottom of which the turbulent little river sent up an
unceasing roar. All around were the high peaks of the mountain range, closing
thie place in apparently without a break, although there was an unseen, narrow,
rocky gorge through which the river escaped, and along whose banks the single
line of railway track ran. The mountains all around were densely wooded, and
not a building was in sight anjrwhere, except a large hotel at the bottom of
the valley, which was a sort of summer resort, with broad verandas. The eternal
silence of its location was broken only by the brawling river that ran beside
it, and by the occasional trains which passed close to the hotel, as part of
the big house was a station on the line. Passengers on the railway coming to
this hotel, when they first caught sight of it, away down in the valley below
them, generally made a motion to get their small bits of baggage together,
preparatory to leaving, but the conductor used to say to them, good naturedly :
" We are not quite there yet ; I wouldn't make a move for a minute
or two if I were you ; just watch that hotel." 
Then, looking out of the car window into this incomparably grand valley,
the passenger found himself taken round and round the circumference of the
great gulf. Now the hotel was directly below him, again he was looking at it
from across the valley ; round and round the train went, getting gradually
lower and lower, and it was nearly an hour after the passengers' first sight of
the hotel that the train drew up imder its very verandas. 
The convict settlement on the spur of the mountain was invisible from
the railway track, but the convicts were there because the railway was there.
They were hired out to the railway company by the State Government, and as the
train dashed by, sometimes the passengers were shocked to see, standing close
in by the cliffs beside the tracks, twenty or thirty black men in convict
garments, some with ball and chain attached to their ankles. And then, as the
train flashed on, white men with rifles on their shoulders were seen guarding
the workers on the railway. Nevertheless, if a man had his choice of his
prison, this particular convict 'camp would be likely to be the one chosen, if
he knew about it It had a glorious situation, the air was pure and clear, so
much so, that the locality was one of the noted health resorts of America. A
visitor was generally astonished when he examined the camp to find what little
difficulty a convict would have in escaping from it. Here and there were tall
board erections, on which a man was stationed with a rifle or shot-gun. There
was no wall around the camp, its only protection being a small picket-fence,
easily leaped over. But Natiu-e guarded the prisoners. On almost every side the
descent was steep and even precipitous, but a convict would run no danger for
life or limb in making the descent. But although a convict might easily have
leaped the slender barrier, and might have dodged the shots from the men on the
wooden towers, his escape was next thing to hopeless ; he had to climb over the
mountain to get away, and a telegraph station in the convict settlement quickly
apprised all civilization outside this wilderness that such and such a man had
escaped. The usual result of an attempt to escape was that a week or ten days
after the leap over the barrier a gaunt, starved man came out of the wilderness
and gave himself up at the first place where he could get something to eat
Often he failed in scaling the mountain and returned after a few da)rs to the
camp itself. The very frailty of the fence around the camp showed the utter
hopelessness of attempting to escape. 
On the particular day in summer to which this account relates there had
been a furious storm of rain in the mountains. The clouds seemed to have become
entangled among the peaks, and they hung over the valley, unable, like the
prisoners, to escape, and poured their floods into it until the little river
had become a wild and raving torrent, gleaming here and there in white among
the dark trees. Towards night the clouds succeeded in breaking away and floated
over to the west, but the mutter of distant thunder showed that the storm was
not yet over, while the heat seemed more oppressive than ever even after the
terrible day's rain. When darkness set in, the watery, silvery sickle of the
moon himg over the valley and filled it with a weird, dim, tremulous light. The
roar of the torrent, increased by the stillness all around, came up from the
bottom of the valley on the night air. 
The Master of the Penitentiary sat in a rocking-chair on the veranda of
his wooden house, smoking his corncob pipe. What little coolness there was, was
outside and not inside the house. Suddenly a burst of childish laughter broke
on his ear, and looking to the left he saw his httle girl lashing Sunshine
Johnson as if he were a horse, while that good-natured individual trotted up
and down with the child on his shoulders. 
" Sunshine," cried the master, " what are you doing with
Dorothy out so late as this ? " 
- The negro came to an instant stop at the sound of the master's voice,
and the child even hushed its laughter. Little Dorothy was much more afraid of
her stem father than of the good-natured murderer. 
" Well, you see, massa, it's like this," said the negro,
deferentially. " Little Dot had to be in de house all de day on account of
de rain, sir, and it's so warm inside dat her mother she thought we cud play a
little before she goes to bed, and den little Dot, sir, she thought she'd like
to ax you, sir, if she might stay up and see de midnight express." 
" The midnight express, nonsense ! " cried Flint. "
Dorothy, you don't want to stay up so late as that ? " 
The little girl made no answer, but clung tighter with alarm around the
negro's neck and whispered into his ear. 
" She'd like very much to stay up, sah ; she hasn't seen it for a
long time. I don't think it would do her any harm, sah." 
"Oh, she's whispered that to you, has she ? " 
The negro laughed a little and then checked himself. " Well, massa,
I don't think it would do her any harm, sah ; you see it's so warm dat de Uttle
gall she couldn't sleep at night, anyway, and perhaps after she sees de train
den she goes to sleep, sah." 
" Oh, very well," said Flint, " if her mother said it's
all right, it is aU right." 
And then he took to smoking again, and perhaps wondered why it was that
his little girl preferred to whisper her request in the negro's ear rather than
to speak it out to him. But a man who has charge of a hundred desperate
convicts is apt to lose that softness of demeanor which commends itself to
children. The midnight express, he knew, was a great sight to see on a dark night
The train appeared with its long row of lights from out a tunnel, and passing
by the convict settlement, disappeared among the trees and through another
tunnel. It came in sight again on the other side of the valley, its long line
of lights appearing to crawl slowly around the mountain, while the roar of the
train mingled with the roar of the torrent below. Thus it appeared and
disappeared at different intervals and at different levels, sometimes going in
one direction and sometimes in another, but always getting farther and farther
down, like an enchanted train that had become entangled in the mountain slopes.
It was alternately a row of hghts and a roar, then darkness and silence, until
it stopped at the station at the bottom of the valley and with a final shriek
of the whistle, that echoed long after the train had gone, disappeared through
the notch into the more open country beyond on its way to the Atlantic
seaboard, which it would reach the next morning. 
It was really the time for the train when Jackson Flint was startled by
a cry from his child. What he saw the next moment simply paralyzed him for the
time. Sunshine Johnson had picked up a lantern which stood on the platform in
front of his quarters, and shouting to Dorothy, " Run in de house, honey ;
run in de house!" leaped the fence and made off into the woods. 
The little girl clung to the palings of the fence and cried for her
comrade. The clear voice of Jackson Flint startled everyone in the camp : 
"Come back, you black scoundrel ; where are you going ?" 
A wave of the lantern was the only reply. 
Then Flint quickly put his hand to his hip and drew his sevenshooter.
The sharp crack of the revolver clove the midnight air. 
"Rub in de house, honey; run in de house," repeated the negro,
at the top of his voice. 
And then the master noticed that his litde, crying, curly-headed girl
stood in a line between him and the escaping convict. 
As a general thing Flint was an unerring shot ; but now his hand
trembled as he fired over his Httle girl's head six times, and then threw the
empty revolver on the ground. Every time he fired, the rapidly disappearing
negro swmig the lantern over his head. 
Flint shouted to the sleeping guards on the towers : 
" Why don't you fire? Fire at him with the shot-gun." Flint
clinched his teeth and awaited the result. His command had been practically a
sentence of death, and he knew it. The rifie sends one pellet of death, the
shot-gun sends a dozen leaden messengers, each shrieking for a life. 
Three men on the towers fired almost simultaneously from the shot-guns,
whose scattering fire raked and tore through the bushes. Again the negro swung
the lantern over his head, but this time there was a shriek of pain from him,
although he never stopped in his headlong career, and the next instant was out
of sight and hearing. 
All the convicts had long ago been locked up in their quarters, and most
of the officials had turned in, but now pale-faced men came hiurrying up to the
master. The Assistant-Superintendent hurried forward, partially dressed, and
said to his chief : 
" Anything wrong, sir ? " 
" Yes." 
" Anyone escaped ? " . "Yes." . " Who is it,
sir ? " 
" Johnson." 
" Not Sunshine ? " said the Assistant, in amazement Flint
turned on him savagely. “ I said Johnson ; what other Johnson is there here ?
" and he glared with clenched fists at his subordinate. 
The other did not answer for a moment; then he said: " Shall I turn
out the guard and search for him,. sir ? " 
" No, go to bed." 
Little Dorothy, silent and frightened at the firing, clung gasping to
the paling. Her mother came out and ran towards her, bending over her and
trying to calm her fright, satisfying herself that the child was not' hurt With
the little girl in her arms, she approached her husband. 
“ Who was it ? " she said, in tremulous tones. 
" Take that child in," thundered the Master of the
Penitentiary. " What is she doing out at this hour ? And get inside
yourself." 
Mrs. Flint turned without a word, for she knew her husband in this mood
had better be left alone. He strode up and down the platform of the veranda
muttering to himself. " He is sure to 
be caught and then " Flint ground his teeth : and there was 
no question but it would go hard with the trusted convict when he was
caught. 
The bitterness of it all was that the whole camp— convicts and guards —
^knew how he had trusted Sunshine Johnson, and then he had fired at him, and
missed him. 
After an hour's walking back and forth Flint sat down again in his chair
and covered his face with his hands, thinking over the startling events of the
night. Suddenly a very soft and low voice made him spring from the chair to his
feet 
'< Massa Flint," said the voice. Sunshine, with the lantern in
his hand, stood before him in a very dejected and crestfallen manner, his
clothes torn by the bushes and brambles through which he run. 
" You scoundrel ! " cried Flint, " what did you do that
for ? " 
" Well, you see, massa," said the negro, apologetically,
" you didn't hear it, did you, sah ? " 
" Hear what ? " 
<^ Hear de landslide. I heard it rattle down on de track, and I knew
I had to jump if I was to save that express — I saved it though. I 'speck de
rain loosened de bank in de new cut; der's a regular mountain of gravel down on
de track, sah." 
The hard eyes of the master filled with tears, and he placed both hands
on the negro's shoulders, who, like a culprit, gazed on the ground. Fhnt
struggled with his agitation for a moment, but seemed unable to say just what
he wanted to say. Finally he spoke commonplacely enough : '' Then you saved the
express, did you, Sunshine ? " 
The negro looked up. The master had always called hhn Johnson. “ Yes,
massa, and de kenductor he's a-comin’. We need a shovelling gang out dar at
onct.'' 
" All right. Sunshine," said Flint. " You go and tell the
Sub. to come here at once, and tell him to rout out a gang to clear away the
dirt. Say, whaf s the matter with your arm ? " 
Sunshine's left arm hung limp by his side, and now that the lantern’
flashed upon it, Flint saw blood trickling down his hand. Sunshine looked
sheepish and guilty, and scratched his ankle with his bare toe. 
" Well, you see, sah, I got hit a little on dat arm when they fired
de shot-guns. Don't expect dey fired at me, you see, sah ; guess dey wouldn't
ah hit me if dey had, dey sort o' fired promiscoous like," he added, as if
it were necessary to make an excuse for the men who shot him. " Can't expect
very good shooting, you know, for thirteen dollars a month, kin you ? " 
" Go into the house," said Flint. " I will rout out the
gang myself, and I'll send the doctor to you at once." 
At this moment the conductor with a lantern hanging from his elbow, and
a brakeman, clambered up from the track into the convict camp. The conductor
was a jovial fellow who knew FUnt. 
" Hullo," he said, " what's this you've been doing to us
? Been trying to smash up the night express ? Say, the whole side of a mountain
seems to have come down over the track." 
" Well," said Flint, gruffly, " you may be mighty glad
you didn't get your train smashed up in it. You would have if it hadn't been
for one of my niggers." 
" Yes, I know that," said the other, who didn't know, however,
the risk the negro had run in order to save the train. " But, say, how
soon can we have this cleared away? We've got the Governor of North Carolina on
board, and he's as mad as the mischief at the delay. If we had the Governor of
South Carolina too, it wouldn't be so bad, because they could ask each other
the celebrated question, but you see he's traveling alone in his private
car." 
Flint was a serious man and did not understand the bibulous joke
connected with the names of the Govemois of North and South Carolina, but he
pricked up his ears at the mentioD of that ofliciaL 
" Oh, he's on board, is he ? Well, I'm glad of it. I want him to
pardon a lifer." 
" Well," said the conductor, scratching his head, " I
wouldn't ask him just now if I were you, because he's not in the best of
humor." 
" I don't think he'll ever be in better humor to do what I want him
to than now, because if it hadn't been for my Ufer, his private car might be
lying down at the bottom of the ravine with him amazed i^ in it." 
"Oh, that's how the matter stands," said the conductor; "
well, I guess the Governor 11 do it." 
And the Governor did it.
Category:Tavistock Tales
Category:Published
Category:Sharp