northward. Wild and contradictory stories were afloat in regard to
the whereabouts and doings of the terrible, ubiquitous Forrest.
Revolvers were brought out and capped and primed afresh, and watches
and rings were hidden in what were deemed inaccessible parts of the
clothing. There was considerable anxiety in regard to the bridges over
Elk and Duck rivers, and when we had passed them both safely, the
train quickened its speed, every one breathed more freely, and the
belligerent men put away their fire-arms.
We hastened on without accident and with decreasing fear, though the
_débris_ of broken and burned cars that lined the road-side, suggesting
some unpleasant reflections, and at the close of the day entered the
picket lines at Nashville, and were safe.
Then came a foot-race, from the depot to the hotel, for a prize
that nobody won, for all the hotels in the city were already full
from cellar to garret. Capt. S. and I sat down upon the cold, hard
curb-stone and mingled our weary groans, while W., more plucky and
better acquainted with the city, went in search of a boarding-house.
Having returned, with the cheering intelligence that he had found beds
and supper, we followed him gladly, and, after eating a supper, the
quantity of which I would not like to confess, retired to our rooms,
and were soon--to use the captain's elegant language--"wrapped in that
dreamless, refreshing slumber that only descends upon the pillow of the
innocent and beautiful."
A NIGHT IN THE SEWERS.
A NIGHT IN THE SEWERS.
[Illustration]
Perhaps some of my fair readers will consider me a disagreeable person
for telling them something I know about kid gloves. Perhaps they will
not believe me when I tell them that in Paris and elsewhere there
exists--or did exist not very long ago--an extensive trade in the
skins of common rats, and that these skins, when dressed and dyed,
are converted into those delicate coverings for the hands, commonly
called "kid" gloves, and supposed to be manufactured from the hides of
immature goats.
I was acquainted with a dog-dealer in Paris, a Dane, whose name was
Beck. To him I went one day, bent upon obtaining a terrier dog of good
intellect and agreeable manners, who should be a companion to me in
my "lodgings for single gentlemen," and whose gambols might serve to
amuse me in my lighter hours, when, after work, I would make little
pedestrian excursions in the neighborhood, for the sake of exercise
and air. Beck's kennel was comprised in a small yard, at the back of a
rickety house; and, when I entered it, persuasion was hardly needed
to induce me to stand as near the centre of the enclosure as possible,
in order to keep at chain's length from what the French call _boule
dogues_, several of which ill-looking canines formed a portion of
Beck's stock in trade.
"Here," said Mr. Beck, in reply to a question of mine and in pretty
good English, "here in this box I have a small dog of a kind quite
fashionable now. They call him a Skye terrier, and I have given him the
name of 'Dane,' because he comes from far north, like myself, and has
long yellow hair."
"With these words, Mr. Beck laid hold of a chain, and drawing it
sharply, jerked out from among some straw a creature made up,
apparently, of tow and wire, with a pair of eyes like black beads
glittering through the shocks of hair that fell over its head. The
animal seemed cowed, and I did not think much of him at first sight.
"He has had bad usage," said Mr. Beck; "first time I saw him was
yesterday, when he burst in at my backdoor, with a horseshoe fastened
to his tail. There, you see I have nailed the shoe over the door of his
box. He will be a lucky bargain for whoever buys him, you may depend
upon that."
"Good upon rats?" asked I.
"Know nothing about him," replied Mr. Beck, honestly; "never saw him
before yesterday. They all take the water kindly though, these Skyes
do, and if you want to try him at rats, I can put you in the way of
it."
Somehow I took to the ragged little beast, and so I paid Mr. Beck
sixty francs for him, and ten more for the little wooden kennel with
the horseshoe nailed upon it. I have a great regard for horseshoes
as insurers of luck; because once, when I had picked up one on the
road, and carried it home in my pocket, I found a letter on my table,
informing me that I had come in for a small legacy, through the death
of an aged kinswoman whom I had never seen.
What with good treatment and diet, the frequent bath and the free use
of the comb, it was not many days before master Dane became a very
presentable dog, and had quite recovered his pluck and spirits. He
bullied, and banished forever to the house-top, a large tortoiseshell
cat, that had hitherto commanded the garrison, and I thought, one day,
that I should like to try him at rats. So out I sallied with him in
search of Mr. Beck, who had promised to put me in the way of getting
some sport of the kind.
That versatile gentleman was not in his kennel when I called, but his
wife told me that I would find him in the "skinnery" attached to the
establishment; and, asking me to follow her, she ushered me into a
long, low apartment, lighted with a row of circular windows. The odor
of the place was very pungent and disagreeable. There were several
wooden tanks ranged along one wall of the room, and, on lines stretched
along by the windows, a number of small skins were hung to dry. Mr.
Beck, assisted by a couple of tan-colored boys, was busily engaged in
stirring the contents of the tanks. A dead rat on the floor immediately
engaged the attention of Dane, who seized it in his teeth, shook it
savagely for a moment, and then pitched it away from him, apparently in
disgust at finding it already dead.
"What do you make of the rat-skins?" inquired I, after I had looked on
for a while.
"Money," rejoined Mr. Beck, curtly; "but the man I dress them for makes
them into gloves,--ladies' gloves, of the primest quality."
"Ladies have rats about them in more ways than one, then," said I.
"Where do you get the raw material?"
"The rat-hunters supply me. Their hunting-grounds lie all under the
streets of Paris. Would you like to have a day in the sewers with your
terrier? Simonet will be here in a few minutes, and you can go the
rounds with him if you will."
Just what I wanted, and so I sat upon a bench and waited, and presently
a man came in. He was a low-sized, squat fellow of about forty,
with heavy, round shoulders, and bowed legs; and his head and face
were almost entirely covered with a thatch of tangled red hair, out
from which there peered a couple of greenish eyes of very sinister
expression. He had a leathern sack slung over his shoulder, and carried
in his hand a long wand of birch, brushy, with the twigs left upon it
at one end.
"On the rounds, eh, Simonet?" said Mr. Beck, addressing this
agreeable-looking gentleman; "well, here's a monsieur who would like
to go with you. He wants to try his terrier at the rats. You can make
your own bargain with him."
Then looking at me, he continued,--
"Better leave your coat with my old woman, who'll give you a clean
_blouse_ instead."
Madame took my coat, and gave me a strong _blouse_ and a somewhat
greasy cap; and in this guise I went forth with Simonet, who
immediately plunged into the thick of the city slums. After having gone
some distance, we entered a dismal and dirty office, in which a man,
turning over some piles of documents, after a few whispered words with
my guide, handed him a bunch of heavy keys, and we again went out into
the streets. Entering a paved court-yard, a declivity led us down to
a sort of tunnel, the entrance to which was barred by a heavy, grated
door, which Simonet opened with one of the keys, locking it again as
soon as we had got in.
"We are in one of the main sewers now, monsieur," said he, in a
squeaky, rat-like voice; "you must be careful to keep close by me, and
not stray away into any of the branches."
It was pitch dark, as I looked before me into the tunnel,--dark, and
awful, and silent, but for the gliding, oozing sound of slowly-flowing
water. Simonet produced a lantern, which he lit, and I could see by the
dim light thrown from it that we were in a vast stone passage, through
the centre of which there ran a dark, deep stream. Between the wall
and the stream on either side there was a broad pathway, or ledge, and
along this the rat-hunter motioned me to follow him. Soon we reached a
turn in the tunnel, and here Simonet, after searching about upon the
wall for a moment, found a rusty nail in it, upon which he hung his
lantern. Then producing a couple of torches from his sack, he lighted
them, and handed one to me.
"There is a birch wattle hid away somewhere here," said he,--"ah,
yes!--here it is, take it monsieur, and use it just as you shall see me
do when we get among the rats. Keep close to me, else you may get lost
in the drains."
Dane grew very excited, now, and ran ahead of us a good way, and
presently we heard a great rushing and squeaking, and the suppressed
snarling of the little dog as he worried the rats. Then we saw many
rats running hither and thither, some of them so scared by the light
of the torches, as they came near us, that they leaped into the water,
while others ran up the wall, from which we quickly knocked them with
our wattles. Simonet did not put them into his bag, but left them where
they fell, saying that his custom was to pick them up on his way back.
The dog behaved wonderfully well, fighting and shaking the rats that
fell in his way with great fierceness and pluck. At last, when we had
killed about a hundred of them, we thought it time to rest. Simonet
produced a short, black pipe, and, as I was filling mine, he cast a
wistful look at my tobacco-pouch, thinking, probably, that the article
contained in it must be of a quality superior to that of the cheap
stuff smoked by him; so I poured half the contents of it into his hand,
and he filled his pipe from it, with a grin of satisfaction on his ugly
face.
"It will soon be time for us to turn back," said he, after a while;
"the best place for rats is a little way further on, and it will be too
late to try it if we don't go forward now."
On we went, slashing right and left at the rats, most of which, I
noticed, were of a very black color here, as if belonging to a peculiar
colony that existed in this part of the tunnel. As we rounded a corner,
however, a very large white rat ran past us, and disappeared down
a cross-gallery that led away to the left. Wishing to secure this
animal as a trophy, I hallooed the terrier upon its tracks, and was
about following the chase, when Simonet laid his hand upon my arm, and
whispered, in a tone of entreaty,--
"Don't risk your life, monsieur! He who follows the white rat of
the sewer is likely never to find his way back alive. There's a
blight about the creature, and old stories are afloat of how it has
led rat-hunters away into dangerous parts of the sewers, like a
jack-o'-lantern, and then set upon them with a number of its kind, and
picked their bones clean!"
Breaking away from the fellow, with a jerk that knocked the pipe out
of his hand, and sent it spinning into the black water below, I ran
down the by-sewer after the terrier, whose whimper, as though he
were yet in full chase, I could hear at a good distance ahead of me.
When I came up with him, which I did only after having taken several
turns, he seemed at fault, head up and tail down, and gazing, with a
very puzzled expression up at the vaulted roof. There was no white rat
to be seen, nor could I detect any aperture in the walls, into which
the creature could have made its escape. Then a sort of superstitious
fear fell upon me, as I thought of Simonet's warning, and, with a word
of encouragement to the dog, I hastened to retrace my steps, shouting
loudly every now and then, so as to let the rat-hunter know of my
whereabouts. But no responsive halloo came to my call. Not a sound was
to be heard but the hollow beat of my footsteps on the damp, mouldy
path, and the squeaking, here and there, of the rats, as we disturbed
them from their feast on some garbage fished up by them from the slimy
bed of the drain. Excited at the position in which I found myself,
I now began to make reckless _détours_ hither and thither, until,
thoroughly exhausted by my exertions, I leaned my back against the
wall, and tried to remember such marks as might have been observed by
me in the tunnel since I had parted from Simonet. The only marks of
the wayside that I could recall, however, were the dead rats left by
us upon the ledge as we passed, and of these I had seen none while I
was trying to retrace my steps. Arguing from this, and from the fact
that Simonet did not respond to my shouts, which I continued to utter
at intervals, I began to feel an extremely unpleasant nervous shiver
creeping over me, suggestive of all the horrors about which I had ever
read or dreamed. The little dog lay cowering at my feet, as if he,
too, were somewhat dejected at the prospect of being eaten alive by
avenging rats; and, to crown the situation, just as I had nerved myself
for another effort to recover the lost clue, my torch went out with a
malignant flicker, and I found myself in black darkness!
Sinking down at the foot of the wall, I now gave myself up for lost.
Even had the torch not been quite burnt out, I had no means of
relighting it, having used my last match when we stopped to smoke, just
before I broke away from my guide. I think I must have become somewhat
delirious now; for I have a faint recollection of wild songs chanted,
and of yells that made the vaulted roof ring again. Then a heavy sleep
must have fallen upon me, which probably lasted for several hours; and
then I awoke to a dim consciousness of horror, as I began to realize
the terrible situation into which I had brought myself by my reckless
folly. My dog was still nestling close to me; and it may have been
to his presence, perhaps, that I owed the fact of my not having been
mangled by rats during my sleep. Rising with difficulty to my feet,
for I was stiff from lying so long upon the damp, cold ground, I once
more tried to shout; but my voice was utterly gone, from my previous
exertion of it, and I could not raise it above a whisper. Then, in
sheer desperation, I dragged myself along the wall, feeling the way
with my hands, and had not gone many paces when I felt an angle in the
masonry, on rounding which a ray of hope dawned upon me, as I discerned
a faint light, far, far away, at the end of what seemed to be all but,
an endless shaft of darkness. The prospect of escape infused new vigor
into my weary limbs, and I kept steering onward for the light, which
grew larger and larger as I approached it. At last I got near enough
to see that it came through a small _grille_, or iron door, which
terminated the branch of the sewer in which I was. When I reached the
grating, I saw that it looked out upon the river, between which and
it, however, there lay a deep indentation, or channel, of some fifty
or sixty yards in length. It was gray morning, and I could see boats
and steamers and ships, passing and repassing upon the river. Surely
deliverance was now at hand! but how was I to make my situation known?
My voice, as I have said, was utterly gone, and I had barely strength
left to wave my pocket-handkerchief from the grating. There I stood
for hours,--a prisoner looking wistfully through the bars of a dungeon
to which no wayfarer came. I had sunk down at the foot of the grating,
from mere exhaustion, when the whining of my little dog attracted me,
and I gave him a caressing pat. He licked my face and whined again,
as much as to say, "Can't I be of some use to you?" This brought a
bright idea to my mind. Tearing a leaf from my note-book, I wrote the
following words upon it, with pencil:--
"I have lost my way in the sewers. You will find me at the grating
just opposite a large buoy marked X. Come quickly."
Placing this inside my india-rubber tobacco-pouch, I bound it tightly,
with a strip from my pocket-handkerchief, to Dane's collar; and then,
taking the little fellow gently in my arms, and speaking a word or two
of dog-talk to him, I dropped him from the grating into the stream
below, which was running out fast enough to prevent him from trying to
return; nor was it long before I had the satisfaction of seeing him
swimming boldly out toward the river, as if he knew perfectly well what
he was about. I had no fears but that somebody in a boat would pick
him up before he was exhausted, because this kind of dog can live for
a great while in the water. Yet he was gone for a long, long time,--at
least, it seemed a long time to me,--and I saw the distant boats
passing and repassing, and the steamers and the ships, and heard the
cheery voices of the mariners, as I held on there by the iron grating,
half-dead. At last a boat, pulled by two men and steered by a third,
shot up into the channel; and the boatmen raised a joyful shout as I
waved my handkerchief to them from my prison-bars. The steersman held
my little dog upon his knee; but the faithful animal broke away from
him when he saw me, and would have jumped overboard in his eagerness to
reach me had he not been caught by one of the men.
When the boat had come quite close under the grating, I saw that it
was manned by men of the river guard. They told me that one of their
number had gone round to report the matter to the proper authorities,
and that assistance would quickly be at hand, and one of them, standing
on the thwarts of the boat, reached up to me a flask of brandy and a
biscuit, after having partaken of which I felt sufficiently revived to
be very thankful for my escape from a horrible death. In less than an
hour keys were brought by an officer connected with the sewers, and I
was released from my disagreeable position, much to the joy of Dane,
who covered me with caresses after his honest doggy fashion; nor,
half-starved as the little animal must have been, would he touch a
morsel of biscuit until after he had seen me safe in the boat.
The next thing to be done was to make a search for Simonet, who had not
made his appearance in the upper regions since we entered the sewers.
Men were sent after him, and he was found in a half-stupefied condition
just where I had left him, among the dead rats. He could give little or
no account of himself, save that his torch had gone out, just as he was
about starting in search of me, and that a stupor came over him, then,
and he sat down and fell asleep. This was all accounted for afterwards.
Having lost his pipe, as I have said, he sought to assuage his craving
for stimulants by chewing--or rather eating--quantities of the tobacco
with which I had furnished him, and this proved, on examination, to
have been taken by me, in mistake, from a jar in which opium had been
copiously mixed with the milder narcotic for experimental purposes.
Probably the little I had smoked of it in my pipe had somewhat affected
me; and Simonet averred that he thought it must have been the smell of
it that saved us from being eaten by the rats. A few franc pieces, a
new pipe, and a reasonable stock of the best tobacco, made a happy man
of that rare old gutter-snipe; but nothing could induce him to make any
further reference to the white rat, at the very mention of which he
would scowl horribly, and retire, as it were, behind the mass of red
hair with which his face was fringed.
As for me, I believe more in horseshoes than ever, since the adventure
narrated above. I had a small one made in silver, for Dane; and this
the faithful animal wore suspended from his collar as a charm until he
went the way of all dogs, full of honors and of years.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
Obvious printer errors have been corrected. Otherwise, the author's
original spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been left intact.