Elijah of Buxton (13 page)

“No, sir, and I ain't never smoked no see-gar with you behind the tent neither.”

Some folks that didn't know how frightsome this was laughed and the conjurer screamed out, “Silence! Do you not see that this boy is already under a spell and talking nonsense? Why, if I were to misdirect my attention away from him for merely one moment he'd be in danger of remaining a babbling idiot like this for the rest of his life!” The conjurer-man talked like he came from England.

Most folks got quiet like they were in church.

The conjurer waved his cape over the boy's head again and said, “Look into my eyes! Look deeply into my eyes!”

The boy couldn't help hisself, he looked and the conjurer started blinking first one eye then the other so's on one side of his face you were seeing a live brown eye, and on the other side you were seeing a dead blue one. Then he opened both dead eyes at once then both live ones till by and by your head was back to whirling and you knowed this boy had been wrong, this conjurer was real!

I snatched back ahold of the Preacher's coat sleeve.

The conjurer said, “Look even more deeply into my eyes!”

The boy's head started going back and forth fast like a pendulum in a clock that the weight's fell off. Then his chin dropped down on his chest and it 'peared he was out cold, 'cepting he didn't fall in a heap!

The man said, “You are entering a realm of velvet sleep, golden slumbers, and dappled dreams. Once I snap my fingers, you will lose yourself in my voice. Upon the sound of my fingers snapping, my simplest wish will become your irresistible command!”

He slow raised his right hand over his head, waited for what felt like was a hour, then snapped his fingers. At the same exact time someone banged a drum one terrible boom, and a flash of red and yellow powder exploded and popped and hissed all 'long the front of the stage. Screams and smoke from the powder rised up to the top of the tent, and, truth told, my scream was 'mongst the loudest and longest lasting!

The conjurer said, “When I count to three you will open your eyes and hear no voice other than mine! One … two … three!”

He snapped his fingers again and the boy's eyes came open and were staring di-rect at the conjurer! I knowed the poor boy was under the man's spell 'cause one of his eyeballs started looking right whilst the other one was looking left, then they commenced going in circles and rolling back in his head! My blood ran cold thinking 'bout how this boy thought this was all a flimflam, and now he'd gone and let this horrible-looking man snatch ahold of his soul! I knowed it waren't gonna be long afore this poor white boy would be scratching and clawing at the roof of the tent!

The conjurer said, “What is your name, boy?”

The boy started talking slow, having a hard time getting the words out, “My … ma named … me Samuel … but most … folks … calls me … Sammy.”

“Samuel, who is the only person in the entire world whom you can trust?”

“You, master.”

“That's right! And do you believe everything I say?”

“Like your mouth's a prayer book, master.”

“Then why are you speaking to me in English? You are not a little boy, you are a chicken! And unless the chickens in Canada are very much brighter than American chickens, they do not speak English!”

'Twas the most amazing thing! The little boy started clucking and pecking 'round on the stage then he commenced scratching at the floor with his bare feet and you'd have swored he was digging up worms!

Near everybody in the tent acted like this was something funny! None of 'em thought to worry what Sammy's ma was gonna say when the son she sent to the carnival as a little boy came home as a giant bird! And even worst, a giant chicken!

The conjurer waved his cape again and called out, “You are no longer a chicken, you are a boy again! But wait, the weather has changed! It's positively freezing in here!”

Why, the boy took to shivering and teeth-chattering and knee-knocking so doggone much that I felt a chill of coldness run down
my
back! And this waren't no flimflam neither, 'cause Sammy started turning blue the way they say white people do when they're dead or just 'bout ready to die!

The mesmerist yelled, “Egads! This Canadian weather! One second it's freezing and the next it's like the fires of Hades! This heat is enough to kill!”

Sammy quit shivering and commenced wiping his brow and pulling at the collar of his shirt and saying “Whew!” so's you'd have thought he'd just got done plowing fifty acres in the middle of July with a mouse for a mule harnessed to a knife for a plow!

Folks laughed and screamed so much that you could see why this cost a whole quarter of a American dollar to come in and see.

The mesmerist said, “And what's that I see right in front of you, young Samuel? It appears to be the waters of Lake Erie, cool and deep and inviting!”

Sammy started brushing at the stage like it was covered with sand and he was clearing a spot to spread a blanket. But afore he could set hisself down, the mesmerist said with a voice that was fulled up with disappointment, “Samu- well, Sam-u-well, Sam-u-well.”

Sammy frozed up and the man told him, “How can you even think of relaxing at the seashore when you are just a very few feet away from bathing in this great lake's waters? You should jump right in!”

Sammy slapped his own forehead like he was thinking, “How come I didn't think of that?” and stuck one of his toes out to test the water. He let out a long “Ahhh!” and got ready to put his whole foot in this lake that couldn't no one but him and the conjurer-man see.

Afore even his ankles got wet the mesmerist said, “Sam-u-well, Sam-u-well, Sam-u-well.”

Sammy didn't step no farther into the water and the conjurer looked at all of us who were watching and said, “Have any of you here ever heard of a boy going to bathe fully clothed?”

The crowd shouted outta one throat, “No!”

I kept my eye on Sammy and for a second the dumbstruck look flew off his face and his brow wrinkled, but just as quick he went back to looking stupid-fied.

The mesmerist said, “Of course not, particularly not when you are wearing the finest silk shirt that the most talented tailor in Toronto has to offer! Samuel, your mother would be appalled if you were to get that beautiful, expensive, and rather stylish shirt wet!”

Sammy slapped his forehead again and started pulling the shirt over his head. Once he had it off he waren't wearing nothing but a raggedy undershirt and commenced tiptoeing back into the lake. But afore the water could cover even his knees the mesmerist said it again, “Sam-u-well, Sam-u-well, Sam-u-well.”

Sammy stopped with one foot in the air and looked back at the conjurer.

“My word! Ladies and gentlemen, would you look at this young man! He is a stubborn and ungrateful lad! Not only has his dear, beloved mother seen fit to clothe him in a fine silken shirt, she's also given him a silk undershirt! Please, Samuel, off with it before it's ruined by the waters of Lake Erie.”

This time Sammy cut a look at the mesmerist that waren't the least bit dumbstruck, it was kind of edging on being worried.

He pulled his undershirt over his head and a bale of laughs echoed 'round the tent. Laughing is a peculiar thing 'cause there're lots of different kinds. There's the laughing you do at the end of a good story, the laugh you give when you're scared then find out you didn't have no cause to be, and the laughing that was bouncing 'round in this tent. It waren't a happy kind of sound atall. It mostly reminded me of the cutting sounds that a pack of hounds makes once they commence to ripping a possum to shreds. It was more like the sound you'd think the Devil would make if he had a good sense of humour and you'd told him a joke.

I waren't doing none of the kinds of laughing. I could see that if this started out being fun for Sammy, it sure was turning into something else.

Ma and Pa must be right 'bout what smoking does to a child, 'cause once his undershirt was off, we could see Sammy was right skinny and sickly-looking, and though standing in front of all these people without no kind of shirt on atall would have shamed me near to death, the conjurization was on him so strong that Sammy kept on doing it. But it
did
seem like his enthusiasm for the whole show was getting littler and littler.

He hugged his arms 'round hisself and started back to tiptoeing into Lake Erie. But Sammy gave a long pulled-out groan when the mesmerist and most the folks in the crowd moaned out, “Sam-u-well, Sam-u-well, Sam-u-well!”

A hoop and a holler came out of the crowd 'cause we were all pretty sure that even though Sammy's trousers looked like old and worned-out dungarees to us, to the mesmerist they were gonna be some more of that fine Toronto silk that caint stand getting wet.

“Egads, boy! I've never seen such a privileged yet undeserving child. Your mother's love for you knows no bounds! Silken trousers as well, can you believe it?”

This time the stupid-fied look left Sammy and afearedness and shaming took over. The red from his hair started leaking down onto the rest of his face. His ears started up glowing like hot pokers.

But he turned his back to the crowd and started unbuttoning those trousers!

He held up once they're all unbuttoned, but the mesmerist had no mercy in him atall. He waved his cape and said, “Off with the silken trousers!”

Sammy gave a gulp so loud everyone in the tent heard it, then he let loose of his pants and they dropped right 'round his ankles.

The crowd sucked in air then got real quiet 'cept for one man who hollered out, “Shucks, if his dern ma loved him so dern much, you'd think she'd have bought the boy
some
kind of underdrawers, silk or not!”

The laughs and howls and hoots must have raised the roof of the tent five feet, all 'cause Sammy was naked as the day he was born. And he turned red as any cardinal I'd ever seen. I'd druther have got floated into the ceiling for two hours than to stand there like that for two seconds.

The mesmerist's mouth flew open and he quick clopped Sammy in the head then pulled his cape 'round him and said, “The spell's over, pull your pants up, you little chowder-head. Have you lost your blasted mind?”

After they rough-handed Sammy and booted him out of the tent, the conjurer mesmerized two or three other folks but waren't a one of 'em nowhere near as interesting as Sammy.

It must've been getting near midnight when me and the Preacher left the tent and he said, “When we get to this next place just go along with everything I say, and fight that urge of yours to talk so much. Don't open your mouth unless you're spoken to.”

“Yes, sir.”

We walked a little ways into the woods and sat on a couple of stumps whilst folks cleared out of the carnival. Finally the Preacher said, “Let's go. And remember, the less you say the better.”

Me and the Preacher wandered 'round the carnival for 'bout another hour. Then we walked back into the Atlas Clearing and headed for a tent where most of the carnival workers were sitting. A big, rough-looking white man with bright red hair stood up and put his hand on the Preacher's chest and said, “Show's over, boy. We's pulling up stakes tonight and don't need no more workers.”

The Preacher slapped the man's hand off his chest and stood so his jacket was open and that mystery pistol was showing. He said, “I look like a boy to you? I'm not here about work. I'm looking for the owner. And if you put another hand on me you'll be pulling back a bloody stump.”

The tall conjurer-man with the two sets of eyes jumped up and said, “Hold on a moment, Red. I own this carnival, sir. How may I help you?”

The Preacher pushed past the red-hair white man and said, “Sir, I just want to start by telling you what a wonderful carnival you have here.”

The conjurer reached his hand to the Preacher and said, “Why, thank you, sir. Whom do I have the honour of addressing?”

“I'm the Right Reverend Deacon Doctor Zephariah Connerly the Third. A pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Reverend Connerly, I am humbled to be in your presence. I am the lowly Charles Mondial Vaughn the
Fourth
, Knight Commander of the Most Honourable Order of the Bath. Knighted a mere fourteen years ago.”

The Preacher said, “I'm the one who's humbled, sir. I've been to many such carnivals and have never seen anything that matches this one. You must be very proud.”

“Indeed, indeed. I've worked years to assemble this family.”

The Preacher said, “Which is why I wanted to speak with you.”

The conjurer took a long pull on his cigar and blowed the smoke to the side, then said, “And what may I do for you, sir?”

“It's more what I can do for you.”

“I'm intrigued. Do tell.”

The Preacher pulled me from behind him and said, “Sir Charles, allow me to introduce the most amazing child ever to have lived in Buxton. Although he was born and reared in Africa, he has lived with me for these past four years. Maybe in your travels you've heard of the tribe he's from, the Chochotes?”