Kitabı oku: «The Perils and Adventures of Harry Skipwith by Land and Sea», sayfa 2
Chapter Two
Mosquitoes – A Runaway Slave – I am wounded – The Struggle, and Ready and Peter come to the Rescue – Peace Negotiatons – Treaty of Alliance, Defensive and Offensive – The Canoe Voyage – Marcus’s Story
We sat up in the tree, wishing that the alligator would betake himself to the waters of the Mississippi; but he seemed resolved to make his supper off one of us, and in this neither of us was willing to indulge him. Peter made no remarks, but Ready, every now and then, gave a growl of disapprobation; indeed, I believe, had I allowed him, he would have jumped down and done battle with the monster. I did not suppose that the cayman would catch him; but I knew that he could not by any possibility hurt the cayman, so I kept him safe up on the branch beside me. The mosquitoes continued as active as ever, and as Peter and I had only each of us a hand at liberty, we could but partially defend ourselves from their attacks. Hour after hour passed by.
“I wonder whether it will ever be morning!” observed the poor lad, giving himself, for the thousandth time, a slap on the cheek.
“We are not the first people who have wished for the return of day, my boy,” said I. “But hark – ”
There was a slight sound as of an oar dipped in the water. It approached the island. It ceased, and I felt sure that the person or persons in the boat had landed. I listened. I could hear the sound of a canoe or boat being hauled up, and soon a light bursting forth showed me that a fire had been kindled, for the purpose probably of cooking. The alligator heard the sounds also, I suspect; for finding that we were not likely to come down to satisfy his appetite, he wheeled round and began to crawl back to the other spot whence the sounds proceeded. I suspected that he had not seen the fire, which, from our higher position we had observed, and I knew that he was not likely to approach it. I should otherwise have shouted out to warn whoever might be there of the approach of the monster. As soon as the brute had moved off, Peter, Ready, and I jumped down to the ground and advanced towards the spot where we had seen the fire. It had now burnt up brightly, and between us and it I observed the huge form of the alligator crawling on. He must have suddenly become aware of the fire, for I saw him, much to my satisfaction, scramble off as fast as he could on one side, and the sound of a heavy plunge assured me that he had once more taken to the water. Peter and Ready followed at my heels. I slowly advanced, and in a short time I saw a man sitting down on his hams before the fire, at which he was cooking a fish. He was a negro, a big athletic-looking fellow, with a bare woolly head, and naked to the waist, round which he wore a belt, and in it were stuck a brace of pistols and a long bowie-knife. The noise of the river rushing by and the crackling of the burning sticks had prevented him from hearing our approach. He turned his head – the glance of the fire fell on us. In a moment he was on his feet, and, drawing a pistol from his belt, he levelled it at my head.
“I am a friend,” I shouted out as rapidly as I could, but the black had not time to change the impulse given to his finger. There was a flash, a report, and a sharp stinging sensation in my neck told me that the bullet had taken effect. To save my life I sprang forward, and throwing myself with all my might on the stranger, I grasped his arm as he was drawing a second pistol, and bearing him down we both rolled over together to the ground and very nearly into the water. He was as strong as I was, and being naked I had great difficulty in holding his arms and preventing him from drawing his knife, which he made strenuous efforts to do, while at the same time he was evidently endeavouring to roll off the bank into the river, and to drag me with him. I could not help thinking of my friend, the cayman, who would probably have most largely benefited by the success of his attempt. When people go to fisty-cuffs, there are seldom wanting alligators to profit by their quarrels. Had I been alone, strong and active as I was, I scarcely know what would have been the result; but I had two trusty friends at hand. We had not been struggling many moments, when Ready, having laid his plans for the campaign, flew at the negro’s legs, one of which he gripped so firmly that the poor fellow roared out with pain; while Peter, after hesitating an instant, caught him by his woolly head and tugged away manfully in an opposite direction. In our struggles we all rolled into the fire – black, boy, dog, and I; and had not our clothes been still somewhat damp, we should have been quickly in flames, and, had the alligator come back, all ready cooked for his supper. As it was, we kicked about the burning ashes, tossing them into the air, when they came down in showers upon us, till, what with the singeing he was undergoing, the biting of the dog, and the pulling of his hair, the negro cried out lustily for mercy.
“Well, I have no wish to hurt you,” said I, still holding down his arms. “Don’t attempt again to shoot me, and I will very gladly be your friend. Off, Ready! let go dog! Don’t pull the man’s hair any more, boy.”
Peter and the dog obeyed me, and the man, getting up and shaking himself, began to scrape the ashes together, and then, looking for his fish, stuck it on a stick to roast as if nothing particular had occurred.
“You are a cool hand, my friend,” said I, sitting down opposite to him. “You might have killed me just now.”
“Of course; I took you for an enemy,” he answered.
“What enemies have you to fear?” I asked.
“Slave-hunters,” he answered, grinding his teeth and uttering a fearful oath.
“But how do you know that we are not searching for a runaway slave?” I asked.
“Because you are an Englishman,” he replied.
“Why do you fancy that?” said I.
“From the way you spoke to your boy and dog,” he observed with a fierce laugh. “There would have been a kick and a curse had you belonged to this country; but, though you gripped me hard, and well-nigh squeezed the breath out of me, I know you to be a man, and I trust you.”
“I am obliged to you for your confidence, and I will not betray it; though, as it may be better, I will ask no questions.”
“That’s wise; but I must ask you one,” said the negro. “How came you here?”
I told him. He was silent for some time, turning his fish on the spit, while my companions, imitating my example, seated themselves beside me. Peter sat gaping with mute astonishment, Ready’s lips and eye showed that he still looked on the big negro rather as an enemy than a friend. The excitement had hitherto prevented me from feeling the wound in my neck. The pain and a sensation of blood flowing down my shoulder reminded me of it, and I was about to call Peter to my aid, when the negro looked up and said —
“Stranger, you believe that all men have sprung from the same parents?”
“Certainly, my friend,” I replied. “I have not the slightest doubt about the matter.”
“Then, do you think that one portion has the right to keep another in bondage, to spit upon them, to beat and abuse them, and to treat them as brute beasts without souls?”
He ground his teeth as he continued speaking. I saw that he was working himself up into a fury, so I interrupted him:
“Assuredly not, my friend,” I said. “No man has a right to keep another in slavery; but slavery is a fact, and facts are stubborn things, not to be got rid of.”
“I don’t quite understand you, stranger,” he replied. “But, from what you say, I believe that you would help a slave to escape from his bonds, if you had the opportunity?”
This was a most disagreeable question. I had resolved, when I entered the slave states, not to interfere in the slightest way with the subject of slavery, and now I was asked to commit the most atrocious crime against the white community of which I could possibly be guilty.
“Do you ask me to help you?” said I.
“I do,” was the answer.
“What claim have you on me?” I demanded.
“That of one man on another,” said the negro, rising unconsciously, and stretching out his hand over the fire. “That of one immortal soul on its fellow, who must both stand, some day, before the judgment-seat of Heaven, to be judged of the deeds done in the flesh. If you have the feelings of a true man, the conscience of a living soul, you dare not refuse my appeal.”
“I will not,” I exclaimed, rising also and taking the negro’s hand. “I will aid you at every risk, to the best of my power.”
“Stranger,” said the black, wringing my hand, while his voice trembled with emotion, “your words may prevent me from doing many a fierce deed, which I otherwise should have committed; from turning my hand against every man’s; from believing that every man with a white skin is a demon in human shape.”
He came round to me, and sat himself down by my side.
“But you are hurt,” he observed, in a tone of concern, “and I, in my fear, did it. You have a handkerchief. It is only a flesh wound; I will bind it up. I wish I could do more.”
Ready growled when he saw my late antagonist touching me, but proceeded no further in his hostilities. Peter brought some water in a pannikin, which the negro had with him, and my wound, being bathed freely, was bound up: and we sat down to discuss the fish, and another brought from the canoe, of which the negro insisted that we should partake, Ready coming in for the heads and bones. No one would have supposed that we and our entertainer had just before been engaged in a deadly struggle. I observed that the black man yawned and appeared very weary.
“I should like to sleep for a short time,” he said. “You took something away from my strength. I have had also a long row, and have a longer before me. I know not when the chase after me may begin; but I do know that the blood-hounds will not give it up till they run me to earth, or till they are sure I have escaped them.”
“I will gladly watch over you while you sleep,” said I. “How long do you wish to rest?”
“Half-an-hour will be enough. That tussle with you wearied me more than all my previous exertions. Just keep the fire alight, or we may have more snakes and alligators visiting us than would be pleasant.”
I promised to follow his wishes, and having reloaded the pistol he had fired at me, stretching himself on the ground, in an instant he showed me by his heavy breathing that he was fast asleep. What surprised me most about the man was the way in which he spoke. The remarks he made caused me to suspect that he possessed a higher amount of education than I should have expected to find in a negro. I felt gratified, too, at the perfect confidence he placed in me. He was, at all events, evidently a man far above the common order, and I hoped to learn more about him before we separated. I employed Peter in collecting drift-wood, of which there was a plentiful supply on the island. The fire kept the mosquitoes off, and from the quiet I thus obtained I had the greatest difficulty in not going to sleep. The moment Peter sat down he fell off, and even Ready shut his eyes, though, if I moved in the slightest degree, he was awake again in an instant. I knew that I could depend on him for giving me timely notice of the approach of an enemy of any description; but still I did my utmost to keep my senses alive. By degrees, however, I began to see all sorts of curious shapes in the fire, and to hear strange noises; and wild unearthly shrieks struck on my ear, and snakes seemed to be crawling in and out among the embers, and then I suddenly found myself at the dear old hall, my home, with my feet on the parlour fender, while Bunbry’s voice informed me that tea was in the drawing-room. I started up, and saw the negro watching me across the expiring embers of the fire.
“Pardon me, friend,” said I. “Most unintentionally I went to sleep.”
“I could not expect aught else,” he answered, in a tone which made me feel rather ashamed of myself. “It is time for me to be moving. What do you wish to do?”
“To get away from this island. We shall be starved if we remain here,” was my answer.
“I will take you,” said the negro. “Step into the canoe – quick – all of you. Stay! I will put out the fire. It might betray me, should I be pursued.”
He threw some water on the ashes, and scattered them about.
The canoe was what is called a “dug-out” – a hollowed trunk of a tree fashioned into a boat shape. Though narrow and light, it was long, and capable of carrying three or four people. Peter and I stepped in, followed by Ready. The negro, taking his seat in the centre, turned to me and asked if I could row. I told him that I could.
“Then I will thank you to take one of the paddles and help me. I have a long voyage before me. We will go up the stream.”
We paddled rapidly along. The negro steered, keeping out of the strength of the current. He seemed to know the river well. I was curious to ascertain something about the man. That he was a common plantation negro I did not think possible.
“You have travelled, friend?” I observed.
“I have. I have visited your country. I have trod a free soil. I have read much. I know the rights of man, and I resolved no longer to be a slave,” he answered, with a rapid utterance. “I remembered, too, the days of my childhood, when I roamed free in my native woods on the shores of Africa, the son of a powerful chief. Indistinctly at first, but afterwards clearly as I dwelt upon them, those times came back upon me, and I could bear my chains and degradation no longer. You are surprised at my telling you that I have read much. In my youth I accompanied my master to England. He was a kind man. He allowed me to be instructed in reading. I learned rapidly. My master, on leaving England, persuaded me to accompany him, promising legally to manumit me on our arrival in the States. In England I had become a free man. I had almost forgotten what slavery was. My master died on the voyage. I apprehended no danger, though, for prudence sake, I contemplated returning to England; but scarcely had I set foot on shore, than I was seized by the captain of the ship which brought me, and claimed as a slave. I was carried off to my master’s heir. He has taken care to make me feel what slavery is. I will not tell you what I have borne – how my purest and best feelings have been outraged – how one I loved was torn from me – how – But to go on would unman me; and I have need of all my coolness and self-possession. About four miles from this there is a village. I will land you there, and we must part. I shall not tell you what course I intend to pursue: it may be better for you not to know.”
I agreed with him in this, but at the same time I had become so interested in the fate of the poor fellow, that I was willing to run any risk to assist him. I told him so. He thanked me, but said that he would not allow me.
“And by what name shall I remember you?” I asked.
“I have been called Marcus – Marcus the slave. I do not boast of any other,” he answered bitterly. “Dogs and negroes have seldom more than one name.”
“Marcus, I shall never forget you. I hope we may meet again,” said I. “Our first introduction was somewhat unpleasant, but we part as friends.” He leaned forward, and grasped my hand.
“Hark!” he whispered, suddenly. “There is the sound of paddles in the water.” His quick ear had detected the sound before I had done so. I could hear nothing. “I am certain of it,” he exclaimed, with a groan. He was right.
“Here, take my paddle, and let the boy use yours; it is my only chance should my pursuers be at hand. I will lay down at the bottom of the canoe. Now, round with her; and pull down the stream to meet them. The best way to escape danger is boldly to face it. I may be supposed to be a wounded or a dead man.” The change of places was quickly effected, and turning round the canoe, Peter and I paddled down the stream, with Ready standing in the bows, looking out ahead. I could now hear the sound of paddles in the water. Already the first streaks of dawn had appeared in the eastern sky. Our only chance of escape was to pass the strangers before the light should show them the canoe, or, should they discover us, before they could see that there was any one in her besides Peter, Ready, and me. We paddled on steadily. The men in the approaching canoe were talking, and, from the words which reached my ears, I could have little doubt that they were in search of the fugitive slave.
Chapter Three
The Pursuit – The Fight and Victory – We dispose of our Prisoners – The Black Dwarf – The City of Themistocles – We part Company – I go with Peter and Ready aboard the wondrous Highflier
Happily, I was well accustomed to the use of a paddle; Peter was not. I therefore told him to lay his down, while I steered the canoe with as little noise as possible, inclining towards the opposite bank near which I fancied the slave-hunters were working their way up the stream.
The light was increasing, – the voices grew louder. I guessed that the other canoe must be about abreast of us. “A few minutes more, and we shall be free of her,” I thought to myself, when I observed that Ready was throwing up his nose and stretching out his neck. I tried by a low whisper to tranquillise him. In vain. He ran to the side nearest the other canoe and gave a furious bark. It was immediately responded to by another dog, and a vehement exchange of fierce growls and barkings ensued.
“Who goes there?” shouted some one in a surly voice. “Answer, or I’ll fire.”
“Don’t do that same, friend,” I replied in as calm a tone as I could command. “I’ve just escaped drowning, and I’ve no fancy to be shot. You haven’t heard, then, that the Mighty Go-ahead has gone down, and to the best of my knowledge every soul has perished, except a boy I picked up, and two or three people I saw floating down the stream, and who may possibly have reached the shore in safety.”
“Not very likely that,” observed another man, with a savage laugh. “The Mississippi isn’t famous for helping people to swim ashore.”
The first speaker now inquired how the accident had happened, and how I had escaped. I told him.
“Then it was daylight when the Mighty Go-ahead went down,” remarked another man. “What have you been doing with yourself ever since, stranger?”
I replied that I had spent part of the night up a tree, till, coming down, I had discovered the canoe in which I had embarked, and was on my way back to New Orleans. By this time I could see the other canoe and the people in her. There were three of them. Their dog, a large bloodhound, and mine continued to exchange fierce barks and growls, in spite of our mutual endeavours to silence them. This was an advantage to me. It gave me time to consider what I should say. I was very anxious, not on my own account, but for the sake of Marcus. Still should it come to a tussle, in which our antagonists might not have the advantage of their firearms, I thought very probably Marcus, Peter, and I might come off victorious, and I felt sure that Ready would give some account of the other dog. It was, however, more than possible, should we begin to fight, that our canoes would be upset, and that we might all be drowned together. I did not wish to show the slightest unwillingness to approach the other canoe, lest I might raise the suspicions of the men in her, so we gradually dropped nearer together. The closer we got, the more furiously did our dogs bark. The other dog seemed scarcely able to keep himself in the canoe, as he ran backwards and forwards in an ungovernable rage. I was in hopes that the men had finished questioning me, and would allow me to proceed. I gave a flourish with my paddle, and had made a stroke with it which sent the canoe ahead, when one of the men cried out —
“You don’t happen to have seen a darkie, as you came along, stranger, have you?”
“Not very likely that I should have seen one in the dark. His colour would not be favourable for that,” I replied, evasively.
“But Sharpfangs smells him, though,” exclaimed one of the other men, with a terrible oath. “Seize him!”
What else was said I scarcely heard. I thought that it was all over with Marcus, and probably with myself. To attempt escaping a conflict seemed hopeless. Marcus did not stir; but I heard the click of a pistol. The other canoe, the bloodhound standing ready for a spring, dashed alongside ours. I had no time for considering how I should act. Still Marcus did not move. As the sides of the two canoes touched, up he rose with his gleaming dagger in his hand. The furious dog flew at him; but he was prepared, and, striking the brute full in the chest, he hurled it from him overboard, and in another instant a bullet from his pistol had gone through the head of one of the men, who fell backward into the stream. Another of the men was lifting his rifle to fire; but the negro, quick as lightning, sprang on board the canoe, and wrenching it from him, he cast it into the water.
On this the man drew a long bowie-knife from his belt; but before he could strike with it, Marcus had seized him by the wrist, and the two closed in a deadly struggle. I had wished not to interfere; but when I saw the other white man draw his knife, evidently with the intention of striking Marcus, I could not resist springing into the canoe, when, grasping his arm, I bore him down to the bottom of it. It is surprising that we did not upset the canoe, which was, however, a large and broad one. Peter, with much forethought, before attempting to come to my assistance, lashed the two canoes together. Ready, however, the instant the man fell, springing into the canoe, seized his left arm, and held him down so tightly that he could make no effectual resistance. He struggled, however, and endeavoured, as we rolled about in the bottom of the canoe, to strike his knife into me. As soon, therefore, as Peter was at liberty, I told him to try and wrench the knife out of the man’s hand. This he did, and then he gave me a piece of rope, which, with his help, I passed rapidly round my antagonist’s wrists, while I kept him down by kneeling on his chest, and very nearly squeezing the breath out of his body.
All this time the canoe was rocking so violently from side to side that I expected every instant to find myself struggling in the water. The same idea probably occurred to my antagonist, and this, as very likely he could not swim, paralysed his efforts more than it did mine. At all events, in a few minutes I found myself the victor, and, leaving Peter and Ready in charge of my conquered foe, I was able to go to the assistance of Marcus, at the other end of the canoe.
The man with whom he was struggling was little less inferior in strength to himself, and, had I not been able to help him, the issue might have been doubtful. By stepping into our canoe I got at the man’s arms, and held them down, while Marcus, still kneeling on his body, lashed them securely together, and prevented him from making any further resistance.
“You’ll not let that damned darkie murder me, stranger?” said the man, in a humbled tone.
“Do you think the scars of your merciless lash have yet disappeared from my shoulders?” said the negro, grinding his teeth. “Can you restore those you tore from me and delivered over to worse than death? Am I to forget the curses, the insults, you have heaped on me?”
He seized the man and shook him, as a savage dog does an animal he has conquered. I dreaded that he was about to throw the overseer – for such I supposed the man to be – into the water.
“Hold, Marcus!” I exclaimed. “I cannot stand by and allow murder to be committed. These men are now in our power, and we may dispose of them as may be necessary for our safety; but we must not take their lives.”
“To kill them will be the only safe way of disposing of them,” he answered, in a hoarse voice. “What else but death can such vermin expect at my hands?”
I was in hopes that he said this to frighten the men, rather than with an intention of murdering them. At the same time I well knew that, even had he not killed their companion, he could expect no mercy at their hands. I remembered, also, that, having participated, as it would be called, in the crime, though my conscience was free from guilt, I should certainly share the consequences. Probably, if caught, we should both of us, and very likely Peter and Ready also, be hung up from the nearest tree. How to dispose of our prisoners was therefore the question. Of course the tempter, ever ready to instigate men to do evil, whispered, “Kill them;” and the cowardice in our hearts added, “It will be the safest course.” But I had been taught some maxims, when I was a boy, which I did not forget. They were, “Do right, whatever comes of it;” “Never do wrong in the hopes of avoiding a possible evil.” Accordingly I entreated Marcus to refrain from injuring the men, and to come into our canoe, and talk the matter over.
Having thrown all the arms overboard, except a rifle which lay loaded at the bottom of the boat, we stepped back into our canoe, followed by Peter and Ready, and paddled away out of earshot of our prisoners. Marcus suggested various plans for their disposal. Although but a few minutes had elapsed since I caught the first glimpse of the other canoe, the dawn had increased so much that we could already see the shore on either hand. Marcus stood up and looked about him.
“I see where we are,” he whispered as he sat down.
“I have a friend who lives not far off. We will blindfold the eyes of the men, and leave them under his charge. He will take good care that they do not escape till we have had time to get out of their reach.”
The plan seemed good; so dropping alongside the canoe, we took the men’s handkerchiefs from their pockets and secured them over their eyes. I observed that Marcus went to the man whose eyes I had bound, and tightened the handkerchief. The man groaned.
“Ah! it is not pleasant, but you might be seeing things you should not, if it slipped,” said the black, between his teeth. “Be silent; we are not going to kill you, as you deserve.”
We now took the smaller canoe in tow, and paddled rapidly on. We had need of haste, for the steamers and other craft might be moving up and down the river, and we might be discovered. We crossed to the opposite or west side of the river, to a spot where a wide stream ran into it. We pulled up a little way, with dark woods on either side of us, till we came to a small island, on which Marcus ran the canoe on shore. Putting his finger to his lips to enjoin silence on Peter and me, he stepped on shore, and disappeared amidst the tangled underwood. I sat watching our captives, and wondering what was to be done with them. One of them was working his head about, evidently with the hopes of loosening the handkerchief. I gave him a touch with the paddle, and Ready, who seemed to consider that he was to keep watch and ward over the vanquished, uttered a fierce growl, which made the man keep perfectly still, though he groaned in his rage and fear. In a short time Marcus returned with a companion, another negro, but very unlike himself. The new-comer was short, and out of all proportion broad; indeed he was a dwarf Hercules, for the appearance of his head and shoulders showed that he possessed immense muscular power. He soon gave proof of his strength, for, looking into the canoe, he stooped down, and lifting one of the men up, he carried him off on his back, with as much ease as if he had been an infant. The man shrieked out with pain, for the cords cut his wrists; but the dwarf only uttered a hoarse peal of laughter and walked on, more than once striking the unfortunate wretch against the trees as he passed. He soon returned for the other, whom he treated in the same way. I observed that Marcus removed everything from the larger canoe into ours. By the time this was done, the dwarf came back again, and, nodding to his companion, lifted the canoe bodily up out of the water, and carried it off on his shoulders among the bushes.
“Come, it is time that we were away,” said Marcus.
Once more we all three resumed our seats in our canoe. Ready took his place in the bow, and away we paddled as before. I could scarcely persuade myself that the fierce tragedy in which I had just taken a part had really occurred. All seemed like some dreadful dream. I said nothing; I could not speak. Marcus was silent. We paddled on out of the river, and into the Mississippi, nearly to the middle of it. There he looked around him, and then dropped the articles he had taken out of the other canoe, one after the other, into the water. The rifle and other heavy things sank; the rest floated down the stream.
“If they are seen, so much the better,” observed Marcus. “It will be supposed that the canoe was upset, and the men were drowned.”
“But surely their lives are safe?” I observed, with some doubt in my tone, for I could not help thinking of the ferocious countenance of the man in whose power we had left them.
“Safe enough, but not agreeable,” he answered. “Ah! if you knew all I have suffered from those men, you would own that I have treated them mildly. I spared their lives for your sake, and partly that I did not wish to have more blood on my hands than I have already; and yet, to effect my purpose, how much deeper may I have to dye them! Every man’s hand is against me, and mine must be against every man. Alas, alas! hard is my lot! Oh! stranger, be thankful to Heaven that you have a white skin and are a free man!”
He spoke in a tone of the bitterest anguish. I tried to console him. Too true, every man’s hand in that country would be against him; not because he had killed a fellow-creature, but because he was attempting to escape from bondage and degradation.
We continued paddling on for some time without speaking, till we came in sight of a collection of log-huts and a landing-place. It was a city, he told me – or at least a city that was to be – with a very fine name – the City of Themistocles, if I recollect rightly.
