ILL-OMENED SOUNDS.
With the sun fairly up, my strength had to some degree returned. I was
still feeble as a child, but able to stand upon my feet.
My first care was to quench my thirst. It is always so with those
severely wounded, especially where there has been much loss of blood.
Though near me there was water sufficient to have surfeited the whole
human race, I had some difficulty in drinking of it. It was only
accessible by means of the sloping tree-trunk. I succeeded in crawling
down this, and satisfying the appetite that distressed me.
Returning to the bank, I bethought me of the next move to be made:
which of course was, how I should get off the island. I did not spend
much time in speculating about this. My eagle-shooting excursion was
still fresh in my remembrance, and along with it the lagoon to which it
had led me in the chase of the wounded bird, with the old dug-out I had
seen under the cypress.
"How fortunate," I thought, "there is such a chance of getting off!
Otherwise I might remain on this island heaven knows how long. It might
be days before any boat would come past, near enough to be hailed, and
with nothing to eat."
So ran my reflections as I gathered up my cloak, now nearly dry, slung
it, scarf-like over my shoulder, and with a staggering step set forth
in the direction of the dug-out.
My course was far from being direct; I had but a slight recollection
of my former traces, which, of themselves, had been sufficiently
eccentric. I was again going by guess, and now slowly, faint, and
tottering in my steps.
More by chance, than by guidance, they conducted me to the deadwood
where I had discovered the eagle's nest. As I came into the opening
under it, I was saluted by the screams of the bereaved birds--all three
of which, startled by my approach, circled in the air above. I could
not help thinking they recognized me, and that their screams were in
retaliation, to mock my misfortune. I hastened on, looking for the
lagoon.
From the deadwood I could proceed directly. I had twice traversed the
ground, and remembered the trace. Sure of my direction, I walked on
more calmly, and soon came in sight of the sunflash that shot down
through the break caused by the lagoon.
At the same moment I came suddenly to a stop--at the sound of human
voices!
They were not loud, but heard only in low murmuring, as of men engaged
in earnest conversation. The speakers were evidently by the edge of the
lagoon to which I was tending.
"How fortunate," thought I, "to find people upon the island. Some
hunters, perhaps?"
I should get off without the necessity of having to take the old
dug-out, about the management of which, with my disabled arm, I had
misgivings.
While thus congratulating myself, one of the voices was raised a little
louder--just then giving vent to an exclamation. I recognized the
voice. It was the same that had sworn at me the night before as I clung
to the steering-oar. It had been ever since ringing in my ears. It was
the voice of the boatman Black.
My first feeling was of extreme surprise. What could the flat-boat
captain be doing on the island? And was his craft there too? It might
be. The sounds reached me direct from the lagoon. The boat might be in
it.
Listening, I again heard the voices, mingling with the tread of heavy
boots, as of men hurrying to and fro over hollow planking. Beyond doubt
the boat was in the bayou!
What was it doing there? Had it met with an accident, and been taken to
the lagoon for safety and repair? I had heard that the river-current
was at that point especially dangerous, and this suggested the thought.
It never occurred to me that they had brought to on my account. I could
not suppose this. I was certain as I lived they intended taking my
life, and were under the impression that they had succeeded. Had Black
merely pushed me overboard, I might have had doubts; but the thrust
of his knife, and the fierce exclamation that accompanied it, left no
uncertainty as to his intention.
And now, recalling this, my first feeling of surprise gave way to one
of alarm. Whatever cause of hostility these ruffians had against me
would still exist. Moreover, their design of taking my life would now
be strengthened by an instinct for their own preservation. Seeing that
I still lived, they would know that their attempt at assassination
could not go altogether unpunished, despite the lawlessness of the land
in which they lived.
In that remote and solitary place, unseen by human eyes save their
own, they might renew it, with every chance of success considering my
crippled condition.
True, there would be the negroes, whose presence in the daylight might
restrain them. But I was not sure of this. They might find some means
of getting the black men out of the way; and I knew that, even if
eye-witnesses of the most fearful crime, the testimony of the slave is
often controlled by the fear of the torturing cowskin. They could order
the four men below, as they had done before, and then do with me as
they pleased, drag me to a distance among the trees, and murder me at
their leisure. I felt too feeble to make the slightest resistance.
These conjectures passed through my mind in less time than I have taken
to state them; and under a horrid apprehension, I not only hesitated to
advance, but feared to retreat, lest the rustling of the leaves might
betray my presence.
For some minutes I remained thus irresolute, when it occurred to me
that some one might stray out among the trees and discover me. A giant
cypress stood near, whose huge buttresses, surrounded by "knees" about
my own hight, offered an excellent place for concealment; and gliding
silently into one of its dark niches, I took stand, cowering like a
fugitive, who feels that the ruthless pursuer is upon his track and
close to his hiding-place!
For some time I remained a prey to horrid apprehensions. After my
experience of the previous night, I was justified in having them.
They were keen enough to keep me quiet. I made no more noise than was
caused by my quick breathing.
For nearly an hour I stood in my "stall," between the two broad
buttresses of the cypress, considering what I should do. I was still
irresolute about retreating. The whole surface of the island was beset
with palmettoes, whose stiff, fan-like fronds made a loud rustling when
touched. I could not pass through them without risk of being heard. Why
I had not been discovered while making my approach was probably because
the boatmen were busy about some matter that engrossed their attention.
They were very near me--not thirty yards off, and but for the underwood
I should have been certainly seen. If caught retreating, I should have
given them the very opportunity they would desire--that is, if they
meant to murder me.
Besides, I could think of no way by which I was to get off the island.
I should gladly have gone back to the craft that had conveyed me
thither, the drift-log, and once more trusted myself to the current.
But I remembered that, on leaving it, it had become disentangled from
the cypress and resumed its course down the river. Even this waif was
no longer available.
My next thought was to steal back to the side from which I had come,
watch for some passing boat, hail her to bring to and take me off. But
I knew there would be but little hope in this. I had reason to believe
that the boats did not pass on that side. Though there the channel was
wider, it was not so safe, and both steamers and flats kept to the
other. I knew nothing of how the land lay, and I was apprehensive that
by proceeding to make an exploration, I should be seen by the assassins
of the flat. Even should a steamboat appear, I dared not hail with my
voice, and any signal I should make would scarce be regarded.
My thoughts once more reverted to the dug-out. It was not likely the
old craft would be disturbed by the crew of the cotton-boat, who had
their skiff for a tender.
Concealed as the canoe was, under the fronds of the palmettoes, it
might even escape their notice. I could wait till they took their
departure, and then avail myself of it, to get off from the island.
This, at length, became my determination.
I only hoped I should not be long detained; though I could form no idea
of what was causing the detention of the cotton-boat. It did not appear
to be an accident.
There was no sound of saw, or hammers, or any thing like making
repairs--only the hum of voices, with the tramping and shuffling of
feet.
I listened to make out what was said, but could not. The conversation
appeared to be carried on in a low tone, as if under restraint. There
were three voices taking part in the talk, but Black's was the only one
I could recognize. A second, I thought, was Stinger's; but the man was
of a taciturn habit, and I only heard it at long intervals. The third
was unknown to me.
Nor was any of them the voice of a negro. This I thought strange.
Actively engaged as they appeared to be, if there were darkies employed
at the work their silence was inexplicable. I heard neither their
chattering nor jocund cachinnation.
After a time a fourth voice fell upon my ear, and in a tone that seemed
to direct, or command. I was startled to think it was that of the
planter, Bradley!
I listened more attentively than ever, straining my ears to their
utmost. I could hear nothing but sound--the low humming of human
voices, deadened in its passage through the thick shrubbery, and at
intervals drowned by the shrieking of the grasshoppers. For all this
I could tell that there were four voices, one of them I was almost
certain being that of Bradley.
It was with something more than curiosity that I interrogated myself
as to what he could be doing there. I could only answer by conjecture.
At first it seemed very strange. But then I remembered that Bradley's
plantation was not far off. Perhaps an accident had happened to the
boat, he had been apprised of it, and come to render assistance?
This conjecture was natural enough, and but for other circumstances
might have satisfied me. It did not, and I continued to seek for some
other explanation. If I could only get sight of the speakers, this
might be obtained. But I could not without danger of exposing myself
to their view. I might hear what they were saying by making a nearer
approach, but this would be equally perilous.
All at once it occurred to me that I might accomplish my object by
climbing up into the cypress. The sounds would be carried upward, and
in the tree-top I might be able to understand the talk going on in the
lagoon. I saw that the ascent would be easy. One of the buttresses
offered a slanting ridge, not much more difficult to scale than the
rounds of a ladder; and by this I clambered up into the tree.