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The GHOSTS’COMPACT - Norman A.Rubin
All the swampers of the bayou said so!
Far be for one to assert that what they uttered must be true. The swamp dwellers, like everybody, were often, as likely to be wrong as right in their words. But there was no rule as they told the legend of the ghost’s compact...
The lurid scenario to the lore of the haunting in the murkey waters of the swamp was unfolded by the hushed lips of the swampers to those who cared to listen. The folks along the bayou told and retold the strange story about the nefarious late but not lamented jurist, Ben Taggart whose spirit damned the waters. They told in the haunt of their tongues the manner to which his ghostly form came to spook the swamp of the bayou in penance for his earthly crimes....
"When at the nightly hours during fierce storms that raged through the bleak bayou country, strange moaning sounds could be heard. The eerie cries that crept up from the damp fetid air, the spongy ground,the tempestuous water could not cover the anguished wails of the ghost of Judge Ben Taggart. It not could cover the fear in the cry as he was tormented in an endless chase by the swamp devils.
“When thunder clashed and flashes of lightning filled the swamp with momentary streaks of light, hideous scenes unfolded. Within the brightness a cadaverous phantom, dark in attire and topped with a beaver hat, could be seen whisking swiftly through the swamp. Close on his heels were the hounds of hell pulling their leashes held by horrific demons and devilish creatures.
“When the dark curtain of eveningtide raised its misty veil above the storm, it released the imprisoned shadows, that now closed in and gathered like an army of ghostly spirits. When they had full possession to the eerie swamp it brought from the deep gulf where things might have been, and never was, always wandering.
“When the feared blob came up from the murky water and danced on spongy ground, the flickering shadows brought into the mind other thoughts; thoughts of the wrong-doingss of an evildoer of the past....”
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Judge Ben Taggart in his role as judge in the fair city of Baton Rouge in the late 1800's was a miserable character known for his cruel ways. The black attired justice, cadaverous in form, had the look of a haunted man. He was seen hollow in cheek with sunken dull eyes and his mouth was indefinably grim; his long grizzled hair under a black beaver hat hanging like swamp weeds added to the misery of his features.
Judge Ben Taggart was as miserable in his judgments as he was in appearance. The jurist was not lenient in punishment to the defendants that appeared before him; there was the noose for a murderer or a horse thief, strokes of the lash for petty crimes or for wife beating, and long sentences at the length of chains for other criminal acts.
Yet, it was said at that time, the judge was as guilty as those culpable defendants who stood before him in judgement. It was rumoured that his fortune was gained by the confiscation of property in his name. It was also whispered that he even added to miserly gains by robbing a poor orphan from his rightful inheritance. Mean 'onry critter' were the rightful words when the swampers described the character of the judge.
When after Satan got his due on the soul of the judge there was a dispute over some fertile acres obtained illegaly by Judge Taggart. A legal argument was raised to the possibily, pro and con, whether or not the judge forged some legal documents. The defendant to the claim of wrongdoing by the jurist brought foward witness and documents that confirmed his case for rightful judgement.
The case was almost over, and the presiding judge was about to sum up his verdict, when one of the parties to the dispute asked for further witnesses to called to testify.
Strange at it might sound, the late Judge Ben Taggart was summoned to the witness stand by the court orderlies. There was racous laughter throughout the courtroom, but was stilled when a shadowy figure began to manifest itself at the witness box. Believe it or not, it was sworn on the Good Book by the many past witnesses that the ghost itself was actually summoned.
An aura of frightening awe was etched on the spectators' faces as the shade of Judge Ben Taggart stood before the court, a translucent embodiement of his living form. Then pademonium ranged through the courtroom as some people fled in terror at the sight of the ghostly image. Order was finally established and the spellbound court officials and spectators alike followed the eerie proceedings.
The judge retained a calm appearance when he faced the ghostly witness. The in a steady voice the jurist began to put foward questions concerning the matter at hand to him. Then he asked the phantom in a solemn voice to the plea of guilty or not guilty.
The spirit of Judge Ben Taggart admitted to his guilt of improper behavior in his appointed role; that during his earthly life he had deceived the defendant of his rightful possession by falsifying the deeds of property.
Off course, the verdict was ruled in favour of the defendant. But the ghost of Judge Ben Taggart would not be dismissed so easily as it dreaded to return to his earned place in the sulpurous underground. After some discussion beteween the residing judge and the esteemed court officials it was decided that he should be given an impossible task to perform so as to keep him occupied for all eternity. In this way it would keep him safe from the hell hounds and fiendish demons, who would drag him to the depth of the nether regions.
With due ceremony and ritual, the judge ordered the ghost of Ben Taggart to the impossible task of emptying the waters of the swamp above the Mississippi Delta. A clam shell was his only tool allowed to accomplish the task imposed upon him. He was warned that the hellhounds and a host of horrific demons and devils would always be waiting to drag him back to the fires of hell if he ceased in his arduous task.
Upon the vedict and sentencing, the phantom of Judge Ben Taggart left the courtroom with his bent head slightly lifted and with a slight lilt to his dragging feet. Then with clam shell in his gnarled hand he went to the bayou above the Mississippi Delta to start emptying the stagnent waters. All day and even at the nightly hours the shadowy spirit was seen scooping the murky waters and throwing the fluid into the winds to be swept away from the swamp.
Then one fateful night, long after the court judgement, a terrible storm blew over the swamp whipping up the still waters of the bayou in huge waves. The winds of the storm tore at the ghostly figure causing the loss of the clam shell tool. He searched high and low about the swamp, but to no avail.
As soon as the phantom ceased in its toil in the appointed task, the demons and devils with the leashed hounds of hell were on his trail. The ghost feared that the soul of Judge Ben Taggart would, once again, be brought to the fires of the infernal regions. Then, without a moment's hesitation, it fled the scene of his torment across the quagmire of the swamp. As the ghost whisked away it heard the ghastly howling of the hounds and the loud chittering of the monsterous creatures..."
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When the last glimmering of daylight died away under the dark clouds and stormy weather plagued the sluggish waters of the bayou. When the wind swept trees with trailing vines, arching overhead, were dark in mystery. When the shadows of the past stole from their hidden recesses and formed in the likeness of form and in faces from past through the mist. Then mysterious footprints appeared on the spongy ground along the swamp, and unearthly wailing sounds and devilish cries could be heard once again above the tempest as the torment of the soul of Judge Ben Taggart continued in its agony...
END
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Norman A. Rubin
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