A BOAT VOYAGE DOWN THE GREAT RIVER
The tender in which Deck Lyon and his companion had embarked was a
keel-boat such as is usually suspended by two ropes from either end to
the upper extremity of a pole, like an ensign staff. It was about
twelve feet long, and was not likely to upset, even in the turbulent
water at the middle of the river which drained the Cumberland Mountains
in the south-eastern part of the State.
Very heavy rains had been falling for several days, overflowing brooks
and creeks so as to make many of them impassable; and the great river
was swollen, though not to an unusual height in the rainy season. Deck
made no effort at first to direct the craft, for he was well-nigh
exhausted by the fatigues of the day and his efforts to escape from the
fortification.
He kept his seat in the stern-sheets, as Fronklyn did in the forward
part of the boat, which was still abreast of the camp, but well under
the high bank of the stream. The enterprise was a success so far, and
they were so well pleased to escape from the immediate vicinity of the
enemy that they were not disposed to do anything but rest themselves.
But in a few minutes they had recovered their breath, and ceased to
pant from their exertions.
Left to its own guidance, or that of the current, it had whirled about
two or three times; but Deck was too tired to be disturbed by this
movement. Their uniforms were wet through; for it had rained all the
afternoon and evening, and the tender had considerable water in her
bottom. Under any other circumstances they would have been very
uncomfortable; but their satisfaction at the escape from a prison or
prison-camp in the near future was the uppermost thought in their
minds, and for a time it banished the annoyance of wet and cold.
"If we whirl round like this it will make us dizzy," said the sergeant
as a mild joke. "What makes the boat do so?"
"The tender is so happy to get out of Confederate hands that it wants
to dance, and it is indulging in a waltz," replied Deck as another
pleasantry.
"I wish it wouldn't do so, for I don't like the motion. I suppose you
don't intend to continue this voyage down to New Orleans; for that
would not be a more agreeable locality than the Beech Grove
intrenchments," added Fronklyn.
"I don't believe we shall care to go as far as that."
"How far down do you mean to go, Lieutenant?"
"That depends; if we can get the craft under control, I don't think we
need go much farther," said Deck, as he began to feel about in the
bottom of the boat.
"What are you fishing for, Lieutenant?" asked his companion.
"I think you had better not use that word any more at present."
"What word?"
"Lieutenant; for I don't care to have my rank published any more on
this cruise, for some one on the shore might hear it. Call me Deck; and
as you are not a sergeant here any more than I am a lieutenant, I will
not call you so; but I forget your first name, as I have never used
it."
"They all call me Ben among my friends."
"Very well; Ben it is."
"I am satisfied, Deck, though it seems a little off now to call you by
your given name, cut short, though we used to do so before you were
promoted. But what are you feeling for?" asked Ben, as his companion
continued to poke about him.
"I was trying to find the oars which belong in this boat," replied
Deck. "See if you can find them near the bow."
Both of them made diligent search in every part of the boat; but no
oars could be found, and it was evident that they were kept on board of
the steamer.
"No oars; that makes it bad for us," added Deck.
"I can make a paddle out of my board," suggested Ben.
"Do so if you can," replied Deck as he picked up his own staff.
By this time, after sitting still for a while, both of them were
chilled by the wet and the night air, and they needed exercise of some
kind to warm them. Ben had a large and sharp knife in his pocket, and
he began to whittle the board like a typical Yankee. Deck put his staff
into the scull-hole, and made an effort to steer the tender, and thus
prevent her from whirling. As a rudder it was a failure; but as an oar,
heaving around the stern, he succeeded with much exertion in making a
tolerably straight course.
"That village must be Robertsport," said Deck, who had carefully
studied all the localities in this region on his map. "There is a big
bend of the river here, and we might as well go ashore there as farther
down."
"What has the bend to do with our going ashore there, Deck?"
"The water in the river has a tendency to flow straight ahead, Ben; I
learned that at Big Bend, on the Green River, near Riverlawn."
"I know the place very well," added Ben.
"When we come to the bend below the village, the current will be likely
to shoot us over near the opposite shore."
"But that will take us to the wrong side of the river, and we shall
have to get across it afterwards; and, besides, the enemy will be on
that side."
"I don't figure it out in just that way, Ben; for the current will take
us to the north side of the stream. The river turns to the left, or
south; but the water wants to go straight ahead, and that will cast us
on the side where we are now: don't you see?"
"Well, I don't see. I am no boatman, and I won't raise any objection,"
replied Ben. "Here is your paddle. I had to cut it out in the dark, and
work by faith, and not by sight, so that it is not handsome."
"It does first rate, Ben; but we shall have to do some hard work in
holding the tender to the shore when the current throws it on the bank;
and probably it is just as high as it is at the fort."
"I will do my share of the work if you will tell me how, Deck."
In a few minutes more the boat began to feel the current as it came to
the bend, and they could hear the roar of the water as it was dashed
against the shore. With the paddle Ben had made, Deck contrived to keep
the tender from whirling about, though he had to work very hard to do
so. With the bow pointed to the shore, which he could now make out in
the gloom of the night, she was going ahead very rapidly, having now
the full force of the stream.
"What am I to do, Deck?" demanded Ben, who did not feel at all at home
while the craft was in the midst of her gyrations.
"The boat is going head on against the shore; but I don't know what
sort of a landing-place it will prove to be. But whatever it is, take
the painter in your hand"--
"Who?" cried Ben.
"The painter. The rope made fast at your end of the tender," replied
the skipper of the craft impatiently; for the sergeant was entirely
ignorant of nautical terms. "Take the end of the rope in your hand, and
jump ashore as soon as it touches the land."
"All right; I understand you now," responded Ben, as he seized the
painter, and stood up in the fore-sheets as well as the rolling of the
boat in the current would permit.
"Now for it!" shouted Deck, as he felt the bottom of the boat strike on
its keel.
Ben said nothing, but sprang over the bow of the boat, upon what seemed
to be a flat shore, with the rope in his hand.
"Hold on with all your might, or I shall go down stream!" called Deck,
as he vigorously plied his paddle in an effort to heave around the
stern of the boat so that the current might strike it on the broadside.
The action of the stream helped him, and, assisted by the strength of
Ben at the painter, the tender was thrown high and dry on the gentle
slope where it had struck. The landing had proved to be a much less
difficult task than Deck had anticipated, perhaps because he had
skilfully handled the craft so that the current did most of the work.
The leader of the enterprise jumped from the stern-sheets upon the
ground, which was a part of the tongue of land formed by the great
bend, and extending to the south. Then Deck had a chance to look around
him, though it was too dark to make out the situation.
"Where are we now, Deck?" asked Ben.
"I never was here before; but I guess we are not more than six miles
below the intrenchments of the enemy on the Cumberland, and they have
another breastwork on the south side of the river," replied Deck, as he
continued to look about him.
"Where is Robertsport, of which you spoke a while ago?"
"That's on the opposite side of the river, not more than a quarter of a
mile higher up. I suppose you are satisfied now that you are on the
north side of the stream, and not on the south, as you anticipated,
Ben," said Deck.
"Yes; I reasoned that matter out, and found you were right. I suppose
you are about used up by this time. I wonder what o'clock it is."
"I have a watch if you have a match."
The sergeant took a tin box from his pocket, and lighted a match from
it, and held it under his cap. Deck produced his watch, and found that
it was twenty-five minutes past one.
"Later than I supposed," he added.
"We have been on our feet nearly twenty-four hours, and I think you
must be about played out," said the sergeant with a gape. "I am tired
out; and you are still young, too young to go without your regular
sleep."
"But I shall survey this locality before I do anything else."
"I am with you."
"I did not expect to find anything like a flat surface here," continued
the lieutenant, as he started to walk towards a high bluff in the
direction from which they had come.
It was only a couple of rods from the water, and the flat space where
they had come ashore was evidently made by the caving of the earth
along the bluff, when the river had been even higher than at present.
It was a hill which had possibly turned the river aside from its
westerly course to the south at some remote period in the past. There
was just such a bluff on the other side of the tongue of land, and
possibly a hill there had again changed the river's course to the
westward. But Deck's theory explained the presence of the fortunate
flat where they had landed.
"Now we must find a way to get up on the hill above the high bluff,"
said he, as he led the way up the river.
Beyond the bluff the bank of the river was the same as it had been all
the way from the fort, and the flat came to a sudden ending.
"Here is a flatboat," said Ben, who was the first to discover it.
"Somebody must live near here."
"This looks like a path up the bank," added Deck, who had been studying
the river above. "I think this must be a ferry, Ben; though I should
suppose the ferryman would find it hard work to get through the current
that brought us down."
It was plain that some work had been done on the path leading up the
bank, which was diagonal with the steep slope. It had been dug out, and
in the steepest parts there was something built for a fence or a
hand-rail. On the opposite side of the river from Robertsport there was
a road to the one extending from Harrison to Somerset. Doubtless the
ferry, if there was one, was for the use of travellers into Wayne
County, all of which lay on the south side of the river.
The fugitives were ready to mount the bluff by the path; but first they
went back to the boat, which might be of use to them later if they had
occasion to renew the voyage down the stream. They drew it back, and
concealed it behind a huge rock which the current had laid bare. Then
they mounted the path to the top of the bluff. Not ten rods from the
shore they found a cabin, around which were some fruit-trees and the
dried stalks of corn, showing that the land had been cultivated.
"This is some negro's house," said Ben, as they halted under a tree not
two rods from the cabin, which was nothing more than a shanty.
"It looks like one. Very likely the ferryman lives here," replied Deck.
"But there is some kind of a row going on in that cabin."
"It seems to be lighted up as though something was happening there at
this time of night. We will go up nearer and look into the matter,"
returned Ben, as he walked towards the cabin, and stationed himself at
the only window on that side of the building.
They listened for some time, and heard the voices of four different
white men, as they judged from their dialect.
"I done tole you I can't cross de riber to-night. We should all be
drownded, shore," replied an unmistakable negro.