Death of a Stevedore

     The gangs of marauders continued to yell loathsome oaths as they went about destroying everything in their path. The smoke that had enveloped the entire area apparently kept us hidden, as they did not enter the alleyway. As the shouts died down, my protector loosened his grip and looked at me. I saw that his clothes were covered with blood.

     “Are you an orphan?” he asked in a whisper, his gentle eyes filled with sympathy. I nodded, my eyes blurring with tears. I hugged him tightly. He petted me for a moment with soothing words.

“We’ve got to make our way to the precinct,” he said, “that is where we can find protection.” He crawled stealthily toward the opening of the alleyway and peered out. He motioned for me to follow, grasping my hand firmly as we made our way out of the alley.

     Inclining our bodies against the looted building structures, we progressed through several blocks. We were about to turn down another when we were spotted!

     What appeared to be dozens of young ruffians tore after us, shouting curses of “nigger” and “ape” and “abolitionists” as they attempted to chase us down. I tried to keep up, but my legs ached and my chest burned.

     My protector abruptly pulled me up onto his back and carried me, sprinting through the streets, vaulting over the mounds of trash and other refuse heaped onto the roads as bricks, rocks, and other projectiles flew past us.

     Suddenly, my guardian stumbled and we both fell to the ground. A huge stone, flecked with blood, rested next to where he lay, stunned, a swelling wound protruding from behind his ear. I rubbed his cheeks in a vain effort to awaken him. The mob's shrieks grew closer.

     “Please, papa, you must wake up!” I cried. His eyes opened slightly and his breathing was shallow as he tried to speak.

     “I wish I were your papa, little one,” he whispered with a weak smile, “you have shown yourself brave. You must make your way to the precinct.”

     “You must come with me,” I implored. He shuddered and shook his head.

     “It is three more blocks south. Just keep straight on this path.” I could hear the mob—I glanced back and saw that the ruffians, who were in the lead, were only half a street away. The rocks continued to be thrown. Suddenly, I saw another great crowd coming from the other direction. It, too, was shrieking horrible epithets.

     “You must go now!” said my protector. “Go! Now!” I didn’t want to leave him. I hugged him tightly until, using all the meager strength that remained, he extricated me from his body and shoved me forward. The mob was barely a hundred feet away!

[TO BE CONTINUED.]