THE NIGHT CHASE ON THE LAKE.
Though the Isabel carried all her extra sails, the wind was so light
that she made very little progress through the water, and the sound of
oars which indicated the approach of a boat was appalling to Dan. There
could be no doubt that it contained the slave-hunters in pursuit of
Quin; and the fate of the whole party seemed to be linked with that of
the slave, who was sleeping in happy security in the cabin.
The schooner was close-hauled, and sailing as near the wind as she
could; but Dan, as soon as he realized the peril of the situation, gave
the boat a couple of points, which sensibly increased her speed. When he
first heard the pursuer's boat, it was just abeam of the Isabel. His
present course, therefore, carried him nearer to the boat for a time,
but it was not safe to permit her to get to the windward of the Isabel,
in that light breeze.
Dan was satisfied that, if he had been in the four-oar boat with his
black crew, he could have overhauled the Isabel in a short time, if the
two craft had been in the positions occupied by the pursuer and the
pursued. The race depended entirely upon the character of the boat in
which the slave-hunters had embarked.
Whatever the result of the pursuit, Dan was fully determined not to be
taken himself, nor to permit his friends on board to be taken. With the
arms in the cabin, he was confident that he could make a good defence.
But the thought of taking the life, even of a slave-hunter, was terrible
to him, though he had fully reasoned himself into the belief that such a
course would be perfectly justifiable before God; and he cared little
for the judgment of a slave-holding community. His Maker had given him
the right to be free--had endowed him with the right to use his own bone
and sinew for his own benefit and happiness; and the man or the
community that attempted to deprive him of this right committed a crime
against God and him, and it was his duty to defend himself against this
violation of his Heaven-given right.
He hoped, however, to be spared the pain of resorting to the use of
arms. He prayed to God, with all the earnestness of an earnest nature,
for more wind; for his creed, if he had any, was very simple, and
included a belief in special providences. The boat of the slave-hunters
was now not more than half a mile distant, and the chase had become
intensely exciting to Dan and Lily, who alone were on deck. The
trembling maiden could with difficulty maintain a reasonable
self-possession. She was terrified as the panting hare when she feels
the warm breath of the pursuing hound.
"We shall certainly be taken, Dan," said she, as she caught sight of the
boat beneath the main boom of the schooner. "We are lost."
"No, Lily, not lost. You shall never be taken while I have a drop of
blood left in my body," replied Dan, in a low and earnest tone.
"Why, they are ever so much nearer than they were when we first saw
them."
"That is true; but it is only because I changed the course of the boat."
"Why did you change it, then?"
"Because, if I run her down into the corner of the lake, they can easily
cut us off."
"I suppose you have done the best you could."
"There was no other way to do," answered Dan, as he glanced under the
boom at the pursuer. "We shall soon know which boat goes the fastest
now."
"I don't understand it at all," said Lily, whose knowledge of seamanship
was very limited.
"You know the shape of the letter A?"
"I do."
"Well, that boat has been running up one leg of the A, and I have been
running up the other; so, you see, we must be coming nearer together. I
had to run this way in order to use the wind to the best advantage."
"But you will come together in this way in a few moments."
"No; we are as near now as we can be, unless that boat sails faster than
we do. I shall continue to sail in a straight line, but I shall get
ahead of the other if she does not change her course. She cannot cut me
out now, at any rate."
Probably Lily was willing to talk of this subject to banish more painful
thoughts from her mind, though it is not likely that she clearly
comprehended the tactics of the skipper of the Isabel.
"Don't you think I had better call Cyd and Quin?" asked she, after she
had again glanced at the position of the pursuing boat.
"No, let them sleep. We will not call them till it is necessary to do
so," replied Dan.
"Do you think we can escape them?" asked she, anxiously.
"I cannot tell, Lily. I hope so. It depends entirely upon the wind. If
the breeze should die out, of course we could make no progress at all."
"Do you think the wind will die out?" said she, nervously.
"I can't tell, Lily. I hope not, I pray not."
"Suppose it should die out, Dan?" added she, moving up nearer to the
skipper.
"If we lose the wind there is nothing to prevent the boat from
overtaking us at once."
"O, dear!" shuddered Lily, moving up still nearer to him who was her
only earthly protector.
"Why do you tremble so, Lily?" asked Dan, as he took her hand and
pressed it in his own, perhaps thinking that he might thus impart to her
some of his own steadiness.
"Because I am so terribly frightened," replied she, with quivering lips.
"I would rather die than be taken; and I have been thinking that I would
throw myself into the lake if the boat catches us."
"You shall not be taken, Lily," said Dan, his lips compressed, and his
teeth tightly closed, evincing the determination with which he had
resolved to meet the slave-hunters, if they attempted to lay their
polluting hands upon the gentle girl by his side.
"What can you do against such men as those?"
"I can fight, Lily; I would do so to save myself, but more to save you."
"O Heaven! If I should be taken! What would become of me?"
"No, no, Lily: don't take on so," said Dan, as he passed his arm around
her waist--a familiarity in which he had never before indulged, but
which was done only as a father clasps his child--to inspire her with
more confidence, to assure her that she was in the care of one who was
able and willing to save her from the dreadful fate that impended.
"I wish I could be brave as you are, Dan," said she, confidingly; for
the expedient of her devoted friend seemed not to be without some
effect. "You don't appear to be at all alarmed."
"Because I have firmly resolved not to be taken myself, and not to let
you be taken."
"I suppose they only want Quin."
"They cannot have him. He is a fugitive, like ourselves, and I don't
believe God would permit us to escape if we should wickedly abandon
him."
"Nor I; we won't do that. We will all be taken together," said Lily,
whose sympathy for the hunted runaway seemed, for the moment, to give
her new courage.
"Do you suppose they know any thing about us?" asked she.
"Perhaps they do. I suppose Colonel Raybone has sent hunters in every
direction for us, and has probably offered a reward."
"Then we shall certainly be taken," answered Lily, with a shudder.
"We will not be taken, Lily, whoever pursues us."
"Hallo! In the boat there!" shouted a man of the pursuing party.
The slave-hunters were now within less than a quarter of a mile of the
Isabel, for they had been gaining upon her by a vigorous use of their
oars. The boat which contained them was now exactly astern of the
schooner.
"Hallo!" replied Dan, who, knowing that the men could not talk and row
to the best advantage, was quite willing to converse with them.
"What boat's that?" shouted the spokesman of the slave-hunters.
"Captain Barrett's," replied Dan, whose virtue was not sufficiently
developed to induce him to tell the truth in his present perilous
situation.
"Where from?"
"Down below Brashear," answered Dan, who had previously made up his
mind what to say if any conversation with the pursuers should become
necessary.
"What ye doin up here?"
"Came up with a party."
"Seen ary runaway nigger in the water?"
"No," shouted Dan, promptly.
The question filled him with hope, for it assured him the slave-hunters
had not been near enough even to hear the report of the fowling-pieces
when he fired them; or, at least, not near enough to discover who had
fired them.
"Didn't ye see him?" asked the pursuers again.
"No."
"Gossifus! Wha--wha--wha--what's de matter?" demanded Cyd, rushing up
from the cabin with Quin, both of them having been awakened from their
slumbers by the voice of the skipper.
"Silence, Cyd!" said Dan, in a low, decided tone.
"Hush, Cyd!" added Lily, in a whisper. "Don't speak a word."
"Wha--wha--wha----"
"Hush, Cyd!" repeated Lily, who seemed, in the moment of danger, to be
endowed with a self-possession at variance with her former timidity.
"Where you bound now?" called the slave-hunter.
"Home," replied Dan.
They asked no further questions for a time, and Dan saw, with a thrill
of satisfaction, that they were lying upon their oars. He hoped that his
answers had convinced them the runaway was not on board; but in this he
was disappointed. He heard the men in the boat talking together, though
he could not make out what they said. When the conference was ended,
they renewed their efforts to overtake the Isabel.
"Hallo, the schooner!" shouted the spokesman again.
"Hallo, the boat," replied Dan.
"Heave to, and let us see you a minute."
"What for?"
"Want to talk with you."
"Can't stop."
"Guess ye kin. Heven't ye seen nary nigger?"
"No."
"Well, stop--won't ye?"
"Can't stop; must get home by sunrise."
"Well, ye must stop!" yelled the speaker, angrily, and with an oath.
"Hossifus!" groaned Cyd, in mortal terror.
"Shut up, Cyd," added Dan, sternly. "If you can't hold your tongue, I'll
throw you overboard!"
"Possifus! Ugh! Wha--wha--wha----"
"Come, Cyd," interposed Quin, in a low tone, "don't make a noise. If you
do, we shall all be lost."
"Dis chile's awful skeered. I done wish I hadn't come," replied Cyd, in
a gentler tone; but the words trembled on his lips.
"Quin," said Dan.
"Sar," replied the fugitive, with a self-possession which thoroughly
shamed the quaking Cyd.
"Take hold of the painter of the bateau, and haul it alongside."
"Yes, sar."
"Cyd, take hold and help him. Haul it up to the foremast, and take it on
deck."
The order was obeyed, though Cyd, in his terror, was not able to render
much assistance. The bateau was taken on deck to assist the sailing of
the Isabel, and also to prevent the pursuers from seizing it, if they
should unfortunately come near enough to do so.
"Stop your boat, I say," yelled the slave-hunter, after they had pulled
for a few moments with the most determined zeal.
"Can't stop!" replied Dan.
"Stop her, or I'll fire into you!"
"Gossifus!" exclaimed Cyd, whose teeth were still chattering with fear.
Dan made no reply, and concluded not to answer any more questions.
"Are ye go'n to stop her?" demanded the pursuer. "I b'lieve you've got
that nigger on board; and if ye don't heave to, I'll fotch ye up with a
bullet."
"Bring up the guns, Cyd," said Dan, with forced coolness.
"Wha--wha--wha----"
"The guns!" said Dan, fiercely, as he stamped his foot upon the flooring
to emphasize his meaning.
"Gossifus! I done think--" But Cyd disappeared in the cabin without
giving those on deck the benefit of his thoughts.
"Now, Lily, you must go into your cabin. Lie down in your berth, for
they may fire upon us," said Dan. "Don't be alarmed; there are only
three men in that boat, and we can certainly beat them off."
"I will not leave you, Dan. I am not afraid of the bullets. I only
fear----"
At that moment the report of a gun startled them, and the ball whistled
close by Dan's head.