WE CAPTURE A KEEL-BOAT
I followed her closely, a mere shadow, as she silently led the way
along the edge of the wood and back of the negro quarters. The path
was narrow and apparently little used, extremely rough at first until
we finally came out upon what was seemingly a well-built road
descending to a lower level in the general direction of the river. The
girl, however, was sufficiently familiar with her surroundings to
advance rapidly even in the dark, and I managed to stumble blindly
along after her at a pace which kept her in sight, comprehending the
urgent need of haste. We crossed the front of the house, but at a
distance enabling us to gain no glimpse of the two men who guarded the
porch, or to even hear their voices. The only evidence of their
presence there still was the dim glow of a pipe. Here we were cautious
enough, slinking past in complete silence, watchful of where we placed
our feet; but once beyond this point of danger I joined her more
closely, and we continued down the sharp decline together side by side,
exchanging a few words in whispers as she attempted to describe to me
briefly the lay of the land about the mouth of the creek and where the
boat probably rested, awaiting the return of its owners.
She made this sufficiently clear, answering my few questions promptly,
so that I easily visioned the scene and felt confident of being able to
safely approach the unsuspecting engineer and overcome any resistance
before he should realize the possibility of attack. I was obliged to
rely upon a guess at the time of night, yet surely it could not be long
after twelve and there must yet remain hours of darkness amply
sufficient for our purpose. With the boat once securely in our
possession, the engineer compelled to serve, for I had no skill in that
line, we could strike out directly for the opposite shore and creep
along in its shadows past the sleeping town at the Landing until we
attained the deserted waters above. By then we should practically be
beyond immediate pursuit. Even if Carver or the sheriff discovered
Kirby, any immediate chase by river would be impossible. Nothing was
available for their use except a few rowboats at the Landing; they
would know nothing as to whether we had gone up or down stream, while
the coming of the early daylight would surely permit us to discover
some place of concealment along the desolate Illinois shore. Desperate
as the attempt undoubtedly was, the situation, as I considered it in
all its details, brought me faith in our success and fresh
encouragement to make the effort.
The distance was covered far more quickly than I had anticipated. The
road we followed was by now fairly visible beneath the faint
star-gleam, and once we were below the bluff the broad expanse of river
appeared at our left, a dim, flowing mystery, the opposite shore
invisible. To our strained eyes it seemed an endless flood of surging
water. Immediately about us, all remained dark and silent, the few
trees lining the summit of the overhanging bluff assuming grotesque
shapes, and occasionally startling us by their strange resemblance to
human beings. Not even the moaning of wind through the branches broke
the intense midnight stillness. I could feel her hand, grasping my
sleeve, tremble from nervous tension.
"Saunder's Creek is just beyond that ridge--see," she whispered,
causing me to pause. "I mean the darker line in front. This road we
are on goes straight ahead, but we must turn off here in order to reach
the mouth where the boat lies."
I stooped low, close to the earth, so as to better perceive any outline
against the sky, and, with one hand shadowing my eyes, stared earnestly
in the direction indicated.
"It will be over there, then. Kneel down here beside me a moment.
There is a whisp of smoke yonder, curling up over the bank. I suppose
it will be safe enough for us to venture that far?"
"Yes, unless the engineer has come ashore."
"Is there any path?"
"Not that I remember, but there are plenty of dead rushes along the
side of the bank. It will be safe enough to go where we can look over."
We moved forward slowly, but this time I took the lead myself, bending
low, and feeling carefully for footing in the wiry grass. The bank was
not high, and once safely at its edge, we could peer out through the
thick growth of rushes with little fear of being observed from below.
The darkness, however, so shrouded everything, blending objects into
shapeless shadows, that it required several moments before I could
clearly determine the exact details. The mouth of the creek, a
good-sized stream, was only a few yards away, and the boat, rather a
larger craft than I had anticipated seeing, lay just off shore, with
stern to the bank, as though prepared for instant departure. It was
securely held in position by a rope, probably looped about a convenient
stump, and my eyes were finally able to trace the outlines of the wheel
by which it was propelled. Except for straggling rushes extending to
the edge of the water, the space between was vacant, yet sufficiently
mantled in darkness to enable one to creep forward unseen.
At first glance I could distinguish no sign of the boatman left in
charge, but, even as I lay there, breathless and uncertain, he suddenly
revealed his presence by lighting a lantern in the stern. The
illumination was feeble enough, yet sufficient to expose to view the
small, unprotected engine aft, and also the fact that all forward of
the little cockpit in which it stood, the entire craft was decked over.
The fellow was busily engaged in overhauling the machinery, leaning far
forward, his body indistinct, the lantern swinging in one hand, with
entire attention devoted to his task. Occasionally, as he lifted his
head for some purpose, the dim radiance fell upon his face, revealing
the unmistakable countenance of a mulatto, a fellow of medium size,
broad of cheek with unusually full lips, and a fringe of whisker
turning gray. Somehow this revelation that he was a negro, and not a
white man, brought with it to me an additional confidence in success.
I inclined my head and whispered in the girl's ear:
"You are not to move from here until I call. This is to be my part of
the work, handling that lad. I am going now."
"He is colored, is he not, a slave?"
"We can only guess as to that. But he does not look to me like a hard
proposition. If I can only reach the boat without being seen, the rest
will be easy. Now is the proper time, while he is busy tinkering with
the engine. You will stay here?"
"Yes, of course; I--I could be of no help."
She suddenly held out her hand, as though impelled to the action of
some swift impulse, and the warm pressure of her fingers meant more
than words. I could not see the expression on her face, yet knew the
slender body was trembling nervously.
"Surely you are not afraid?"
"Oh, no; it is not that--I--I am all unstrung. You must not think of
me, at all."
This was far easier said than done, however, for she was more in my
mind as I crept forward than the indistinct figure below in the boat.
It was becoming a constant struggle already--indeed, had been from the
first--to hold her for what I actually knew her to be--negress, a
slave, desperately seeking to escape from her master. The soft,
refined voice, the choice use of language, the purity of her thought
and expression, the girlish face as I had seen it under the light, all
combined to continually blind me to the real truth. I could not even
force myself to act toward her from any standpoint other than that of
equality, or regard her as in any way removed from my most courteous
consideration. I think it was equally hard for her to adapt her
conduct to these new conditions. Accustomed all her life to respect,
to admiration, to the courtesy of men, she could not stoop to the
spirit of servitude. It was this effort to humble herself, to compel
remembrance, which caused her to speak of herself so often as a slave.
These thoughts assailed, pursued me, as I crept cautiously down the
steep bank, concealed by the shadows of the rushes. Yet in reality I
remained intent enough upon my purpose. Although unable to wholly
banish all memory of the young girl just left behind, I still realized
the gravity of my task, and my eyes were watchful of the shrouded
figure I was silently approaching. I drew nearer inch by inch,
advancing so slowly, and snake-like, that not even the slightest sound
of movement aroused suspicion. Apparently the fellow was engaged in
oiling the machinery, for he had placed the lantern on deck, and held a
long-spouted can in his fingers. His back remained toward me as I drew
near the stern, and, consequently, I no longer had a glimpse of his
face. The wooden wheel of the boat, a clumsy appearing apparatus,
rested almost directly against the bank, where the water was evidently
deep enough to float the vessel, and the single rope holding it in
position was drawn taut from the pressure of the current. Waiting
until the man was compelled to bend lower over his work, utterly
unconscious of my presence, I straightened up, and, pistol in hand,
stepped upon the wooden beam supporting the wheel. He must have heard
this movement, for he lifted his head quickly, yet was even then too
late; already I had gained the after-deck, and my weapon was on a level
with his eyes.
"Don't move, or cry out!" I commanded, sternly. "Obey orders and you
will not be hurt."
He shrank away, sinking upon the bench, his face upturned so that the
light fell full upon it, for the instant too greatly surprised and
frightened to give utterance to a sound. His mouth hung open, and his
eyes stared at me.
"Who--who wus yer? Whatcha want yere?"
"I am asking questions, and you are answering them. Are you armed?
All right, then; hand it over. Now put out that light."
He did exactly as I told him, moving as though paralyzed by fear, yet
unable to resist.
"You are a negro--a slave?"
"Yas, sah; Ah's Massa Donaldson's boy frum Saint Louee."
"He is the sheriff?"
"Yas, sah--yas, sah. Whar is Massa Donaldson? Yer ain't done bin sent
yere by him, I reckon. 'Pears like I never see yer afore."
"No, but he is quite safe. What is your name?"
"Sam, sah--just plain Sam."
"Well, Sam, I understand you are an engineer. Now it happens that I
want to use this boat, and you are going to run it for me. Do you
understand I am going to sit down here on the edge of this cockpit, and
hold this loaded pistol just back of your ear. It might go off at any
minute, and surely will if you make a false move or attempt to foul the
engine. Any trick, and there is going to be a dead nigger overboard.
I know enough about engines to tell if you play fair--so don't take any
chances, boy."
"Ah--Ah--reckon as how I was goin' fer ter run her all right, sah;
she's sum consid'ble contrary et times, sah, but Ah'll surely run her,
if thar's eny run in her, sah. Ah ain't carryin' 'bout bein' no
corpse."
"I thought not; you'd rather be a free nigger, perhaps? Well, Sam, if
you will do this job all right for me tonight, I'll put you where the
sheriff will never see hide nor hair of you again--no, not yet; wait a
moment, there is another passenger."
She came instantly in answer to my low call, and, through the gloom,
the startled negro watched her descend the bank, a mere moving shadow,
yet with the outlines of a woman. I half believe he thought her a
ghost, for I could hear him muttering inarticulately to himself. I
dared not remove my eyes from the fellow, afraid that his very excess
of fear might impel him to some reckless act, but I extended one hand
across the side of the boat to her assistance.
"Take my hand, Rene," I said pleasantly to reassure her, "and come
aboard. Yes, everything is all right. I've just promised Sam here a
ticket for Canada."
I helped her across into the cockpit and seated her on the bench, but
never venturing to remove my eyes from the negro. His actions, and
whatever I was able to observe of the expression of his face, only
served to convince me of his trustworthiness, yet I could take no
chances.
"She's just a real, live woman, sah?" he managed to ejaculate, half in
doubt. "She sure ain't no ghost, sah?"
"By no means, Sam; she is just as real as either you or I. Now listen,
boy--you know what will happen to you after this, if Donaldson ever
gets hold of you?"
"I 'spects Ah does, sah. He'd just nat'larly skin dis nigger alive, Ah
reckon."
"Very well, then; it is up to you to get away, and I take it that you
understand this river. Where is the main current along here?"
"From de p'int yonder, over ter de east shore."
"And the depth of water across from us? We are going to head up
stream."
"Yas, sah; yer plannin' fer ter go nor'. Wal, sah, dars planty o'
watah fer dis yere boat right now, wid de spring floods. Nothin' fer
ter be a'feered of 'bout dat."
"That is good news. Now, Sam, I am going to cut this line, and I want
you to steer straight across into the shadows of the Illinois shore. I
believe you are going to play square, but, for the present, I'm going
to take no chances with you. I am holding this pistol within a foot of
your head, and your life means nothing to me if you try any trick.
What is the speed of this boat up stream?"
"'Bout ten mile an hour, sah."
"Well, don't push her too hard at first, and run that engine as
noiselessly as possible. Are you ready? Yes--then I'll cut loose."
I severed the line and we began to recede from the shore, cutting
diagonally across the decidedly swift current. Once beyond the
protection of the point the star-gleam revealed the sturdy rush of the
waters, occasionally flecked with bubbles of foam. Sam handled the
unwieldy craft with the skill of a practiced boatman and the laboring
engine made far less racket than I had anticipated. Ahead, nothing was
visible but the turbulent expanse of desolate water, the Illinois shore
being still too far away for the eye to perceive through the darkness.
Behind us the Missouri bluffs rose black, and fairly distinct against
the sky, but dimming constantly as the expanse of water widened to our
progress. Pistol in hand, and vigilant to every motion of the negro,
my eyes swept along that vague shore line, catching nowhere a spark of
light, nor any evidence that the steady chug of our engine had created
alarm. The churning wheel flung white spray into the air, which
glittered in the silver of the star-rays, and occasionally showered me
with moisture. At last the western shore imperceptibly merged into the
night shadows, and we were alone upon the mysterious bosom of the vast
stream, tossed about in the full sweep of the current, yet moving
steadily forward, and already safely beyond both sight and sound.