MY FRIEND, THE DEPUTY SHERIFF
Well below the surface, yet impelled swiftly downward by the sturdy
rush of the current, sweeping about the steamer's stern, I struck out
with all the strength of my arms, anxious to attain in that first
effort the greatest possible distance. I came panting up to breathe,
my face lifted barely above the surface, dashing the water from my
eyes, and casting one swift glance backward toward the landing. The
high stern of the _Adventurer_ was already some considerable distance
away, exhibiting no sign of movement along her after-decks, but with
that snake-like line of men still pouring over the crest of the bank,
and disappearing forward. Great volumes of black smoke swept forth
from the funnels, and my ears could distinguish the ceaseless hiss of
steam. Again I permitted my body to sink into the depths, swimming
onward with easier stroke, satisfied I had not been seen.
When I came up the second time I was quite far enough to be safe, and
the stragglers had largely disappeared on board. Content to tread
water, yet constantly drifting farther away in the trend of the
current, I was able to observe all that took place. The sun had
disappeared, and the western shore rested obscured by a purple haze,
the wide stretch of water between slowly darkening. Light lingered
still, however, along the clay hills of Yellow Banks, crowded with
those soldiers left behind, who had gathered to speed the departure of
their more fortunate comrades. The decks of the _Adventurer_ were
black with men, their cheers and shouts echoing to me along the surface
of the river. Slowly the steamer parted from the shore, as the
paddle-wheel began to revolve, flinging upward a cataract of spray, the
space of open water widening, as the advancing bow sought the deeper
channel, and headed northward. A great resounding cheer from both ship
and shore mingled, rolling out over the darkening waters of the river,
and echoed back by the forests along the bank. Farther up two other
boats--mere phantoms in their white paint--cast off also, and followed,
their smoke wreaths trailing behind as they likewise turned their prows
up stream. Ten minutes later the three were almost in line, mere blobs
of color, barely distinguishable through the descending dusk.
I swam slowly ashore, creeping up the low bank into the seclusion of a
shallow, sandy gully, scooped out by the late rains. The air was mild,
and I experienced no chill from my wet clothes, the warmth of the sand
helping to dry them on my body. The river and sky were darkening fast,
the more brilliant stars already visible. The western shore had
entirely vanished, while nothing remained in evidence of those
department boats except the dense black smoke smudge still outlined
against the lighter arch of sky overhead. To my left the camp fires of
the soldiers still remaining at Yellow Banks began to show red with
flame through the shadows of intervening trees, and I could hear the
noise of hammering, together with an occasional strident voice.
Immediately about me all was silent, the steadily deepening gloom
rendering my surroundings vaguely indistinct.
Thus far I possessed no plan--except to seek her. How this was to be
accomplished appeared in no way clear. I lay there, my mind busy with
the perplexing problem. Where could Kirby go, now that he was ashore?
How could he hope to find concealment in the midst of that rough camp?
that little, squalid frontier settlement of a few log huts? Could it
be possible that he had friends there--old cronies to whom he might
venture to appeal for shelter, and protection? men of his own kidney to
whom he could confide his secret? As the thought occurred to me it
seemed quite possible; indeed it scarcely appeared probable that he
would, under any other circumstances, have made the choice he did.
Surely such a man could never have risked going ashore unless some
definite plan of action had already formulated itself in his mind. And
why should the fellow not possess friends at Yellow Banks? He knew the
river intimately and all the river towns; possibly he had even landed
here before. He was a man feared, hated, but obeyed the full length of
the great stream; his name stood for reckless daring, unscrupulous
courage everywhere; he could command the admiration and loyalty of
every vicious character in the steamboat service between Fort Crawford
and New Orleans. It was hardly likely that none of these men, floaters
at best, were in this miscellaneous outpouring of militia; indeed it
was almost certain there would be some officers among them, as well as
enlisted men.
As my thought grasped these facts, they led to the only possible
decision. I would venture forward, rather blindly trusting that good
fortune might direct my steps aright. I would have to discover first
of all, where Kirby had taken Eloise--into whose hands he had deposited
the girl for safe keeping. This task ought not to be difficult. The
settlement was small, and the camp itself not a large one; no such
party could hope to enter its confines without attracting attention,
and causing comment. There was but slight discipline, and the majority
of the soldiery were simple-hearted, honest fellows who could be easily
induced to talk. Once I had thus succeeded in locating her, the rest
ought to prove comparatively easy--a mere matter of action. For I had
determined to play the spy no longer; to cease being a mere shadow. To
my mind the excuse for masquerade no longer existed. The two fugitives
were already safely on their way toward Canada, beyond any possibility
of pursuit; and, from now on, I could better play my game in the open,
confident that I held the winning hand in my knowledge of the girl's
identity.
So I proposed finding Eloise, and telling her the whole truth;
following that, and assured of her support, I would defy Kirby,
denounce him if necessary to the military authorities, identifying
myself by means of my army commission, and insist on the immediate
release of the girl. The man had broken no law--unless the wanton
killing of Shrunk could be proven against him--and I might not be able
to compel his arrest. Whatever he suspected now relative to his
prisoner, he had originally supposed her to be his slave, his property,
and hence possessed a right under the law to restrain her liberty. But
even if I was debarred from bringing the man to punishment, I could
break his power, and overturn his plans. Beyond that it would be a
personal matter between us; and the thought gave me joy. Certainly
this method of procedure looked feasible to me; I saw in it no
probability of failure, for, no matter how many friends the gambler
might have in camp, or the influence they could exert in his behalf,
they could never overcome the united testimony I was now able to
produce. The mere statement of the girl that she was Eloise Beaucaire
would be sufficient to free her.
I attained my feet, confident and at ease, and advanced up the gully,
moving cautiously, so as not to run blindly upon some sentry post in
the darkness. There would be nervous soldiers on duty, liable to fire
at any sound, or suspicious movement, and it was a part of my plan to
penetrate the lines unseen, and without inviting arrest. Once safely
within the confines of the camp, the lack in uniforms and discipline,
would afford ample freedom, but to be held as a prisoner, even for a
short time, might prove a very serious matter. Within a short distance
the gully became too shallow for further concealment. I could perceive
the red glow of the fires gleaming out between the trees, and the
numerous dark figures of men, engaged in various tasks, or lying idly
about, waiting a call from the cooks to supper. My judgment told me
that I must already be safely within the picket lines, able to walk
forward unmolested, and mingle with these groups fearlessly. I was yet
standing there, uncertain as to which group I should choose to
companion with, when the dim figure of a man, unquestionably drunk,
came weaving his uncertain way along a footpath which ran within a yard
of my position. Even in that darkness, not yet dense with night, the
lank figure possessed an outline of familiarity, and the sudden blazing
up of a fire revealed the unmistakable features of the deputy.
"Hullo," I said, happily, stepping directly before him. "When did you
come ashore?"
He stopped as though shot, bracing himself with difficulty, and
endeavoring to gain a glimpse of my face.
"Hello, yerself," he managed to ejaculate thickly. "Who are yer?
frien' o' mine?"
"Why, don't yer remember me, ol' man? I'm the feller who wus scrubbin'
the paint on the _Adventurer_. We wus talkin' tergether comin' up. I
wus goin' fer ter enlist."
"Hell! yes; glad ter see yer. Sum hot whisky et this camp--tried eny?"
"No," I answered, grasping at the opportunity to arouse his generosity.
"I ain't got no coin to buy. They wudn't let me leave ther boat, ner
pay me a picayune, so I just skipped out. I'm flat broke; maybe yer
cud stake me fer a bite ter eat?"
"Eat!" he flung one arm lovingly about my shoulders, and burst into
laughter. "Yer bet yer life, we're a goin' ter eat, an' drink too. I
don't go back on none o' ther boys. Yer never heerd nuthin' like thet
'bout Tim Kennedy, I reckon. Eat, sure--yer know Jack Rale?"
"Never heerd the name."
"What, hell! never heerd o' Jack Rale! Ol' river man, half hoss, half
alligator; uster tend bar in Saint Louee. He's up yere now, a sellin'
forty-rod ter sojers. Cum up 'long with him frum Beardstown. Got a
shack back yere, an' is a gittin' rich--frien' o' mine. Yer just cum
'long with me--thas all."
I permitted him to lead me, his voice never ceasing as we followed the
dim trail. I made out little of what he said, nor did I question him.
Drunk as the man was, I still thought it best to wait until more
thoroughly assured that we were alone. Besides I could take no chance
now with his garrulous tongue. The trail ended before a two-room log
cabin, so deeply hidden in the woods as to be revealed merely by a
glimmer of light shining out from within through chinks in the walls.
Tim fumbled for the latch and finally opened the door, lurching across
the threshold, dragging me along after him. The room was evidently
kitchen and bar combined, the latter an unplaned board, resting on two
upturned kegs, with a shelf behind containing an array of bottles.
There were two men at a sloppy table, a disreputable looking white
woman stirring the contents of a pot hung over the open fire, and a
fellow behind the bar, attired in a dingy white apron. It was all
sordid enough, and dirty--a typical frontier grogshop; but the thing of
most interest to me was the proprietor. The fellow was the same
red-moustached individual whom I had watched disembark from the steamer
that same afternoon, slipping in the yellow mud as he surmounted the
bank, dragging his valise along after him. So it was this fellow
passenger who had given these fugitives refuge; it was his presence in
these parts which had decided Kirby to make the venture ashore. He
glanced up at our entrance, the glare of light overhead revealing a
deep, ugly scar across his chin, and a pair of deep-set, scowling eyes.
"Back in time fer supper, hey, Kennedy," he growled, none too
cordially. "Who's yer frien'?"
"A feller whut's goin' ter enlist. He's all right, Jack," the deputy
hiccoughed thickly. "Les' liquor, an' then we'll eat. I'm payin' the
bill--so whut the hell is it ter yer?"
"Nuthin' 'tall; eny frien' o' yers gits ther best I hav'. Corn liquor,
I reckon?"
He set out a squat bottle on the bar, and thinking it best to humor the
both of them I poured out a stiff drink, fully aware that Rale was
observing my features closely.
"Seen yer afore sumwhar, ain't I?"
"I reckon," I replied indifferently, watching Tim fill his glass. "I
worked my way up on the boat; saw yer on board."
"Sure; that's it; 'tain't in my line fer ter forgit a face. Yer ain't
enlisted yit?"
"No; reckon I'll wait till maunin', an' clean up a bit furst. How
'bout sum soap an' water fore I eat? an' yer cudn't loan me a razor,
cud ye?"
He rubbed his chin reflectively with stubby fingers.
"Wal' I got plenty o' water, an' maybe cud scare up sum soap. Tim yere
he's got a razor, an', if he's a frien' o' yers, I reckon he mought
lend it ter yer--thet's sure sum hell ov a beard yer've got."
The deputy gulped down his drink, and smacked his lips, clinging with
one hand to the bar, regarding me lovingly.
"Sure; he's friend' o' mine. Shave him myself soon's I git sober.
Stand most whisky all righ', but damn if I kin this kind--only hed
three drinks, tha's all---whut's thet? Yer can't wait? Oh, all righ'
then, take it yerself. Mighty fin' razor, ol' man."
Rale found me a tin basin, water, a bit of rag for a towel, and a
small, cracked mirror, in which my reflection was scarcely
recognizable. He was a man of few words, contenting himself with
uttering merely a dry comment on Kennedy, who had dropped back into a
convenient chair, and buried his face on the table.
"Tim's a damn good fellow, an' I never saw him so blame drunk afore,"
he said, regretfully. "Know'd him et Saint Louee; used ter drop in ter
my place. He an' Kirby hed a row, an' I reckon thet's whut started him
drinkin'."
"A row; a quarrel, you mean?" forgetting myself in surprise. "Who's
Kirby?"
"Joe Kirby; yer sure must know him, if yer a river man. Slim sorter
feller, with a smooth face; slickest gambler ever wus, I reckon."
"Why, of course," getting control of myself once more. "We picked him
up, 'long with Tim, down river. Hed two women with 'em, didn't they?
runaway niggers?"
Rale winked facetiously, evidently rather proud of the exploit as it
had been related to him.
"Wal', ther way I understan', they wa'n't both of 'em niggers; however,
that was the story told on board. This yere Joe Kirby is pretty damn
slick, let me tell you. One of 'em's a white gurl, who just pretended
she wus a nigger. I reckon thet even Kirby didn't catch on ter her
game et furst; an' when he did he wus too blame smart ter ever let her
know. She don't think he knows yet, but she's liable fer ter find out
mighty soon."
"But he cannot hold a white woman," I protested stoutly.
"Can't, hey! Wal', I reckon there are ways o' even doin' thet, an' if
thar be, Kirby'll find it. They say thar's mor'n one way ter skin a
cat, an' Joe never cut his eye teeth yisterday, let me tell yer. Thet
gurl's not only white--she's got money, scads ov it, and is a good
looker. I saw her, an' she's some beaut; Joe ain't passin' up nuthin'
like that. I reckon she won't find no chance ter raise a holler fore
he's got her tied good an' strong."
I stared blankly at the fellow, a thousand questions in my mind, and a
dim perception of what he meant permeating my brain.
"Do you mean," I asked, horrified, "that he will compel her to marry
him?"
"Sum smart little guesser, ain't yer? I reckon she's in a right smart
way ter do it, et thet."
"And wus this the cause of the quarrel between Kirby and Kennedy?"
"Wal', I reckon it wus; leastwise Tim wudn't be mixed up in the affair
none. They hed it prutty blame hot, an' I reckon thar'd bin a dead
deputy if hedn't bin fer me. Tim thought I wus a prutty gud frien' an'
cum over yere ter liquor, an' eat. Ther joke ov it is, he never know'd
thet Joe hed told me all 'bout the fix he wus in, afore we cum ashore.
Hell, it wus all fixed up whut wus ter be done--only we didn't expect
the steamer wus goin' on north. Thar's sum boys wantin' a drink; see
yer agin."
I finished shaving, making no attempt to hurry, busily thinking over
this new situation. In the first place why had Rale told me all this?
Quite probably the indiscretion never occurred to him, or a thought
that the matter would prove of any personal interest to me. He had
been drinking, and was in a reckless mood; he believed me a common
river roustabout, with few scruples of conscience, and possibly had
even picked me out as an assistant in the affair. I felt convinced the
man had some purpose in his conversation, and that he had not finished
all he intended to say, when the entrance of customers compelled his
return to the bar. His parting words implied that. Perhaps the revolt
of the deputy made it necessary for the conspirators to select another
helper to properly carry out their nefarious scheme, and Rale had
decided that I might answer. I hoped this might prove the explanation,
and determined to seek the earliest opportunity to impress upon that
individual the fact that I was desperately in need of money, and
decidedly indifferent as to how it was obtained. If I could only have
a moment alone with Kennedy, in which to learn exactly what he knew.
But it was plainly useless to hope for this privilege; the fellow slept
soundly, his face hidden in his arms, the sleep of complete drunkenness.
The two soldiers, whose entrance had interrupted our talk, remained at
the bar drinking, until after I had completed my toilet; and were still
there listening to a story Rale was telling, when the slatternly white
woman announced that supper was ready to serve. Seemingly I was the
only one prepared to eat, and I sat down alone at a small table,
constructed out of a box, and attempted to do the best I could with the
food provided. I have never eaten a worse meal, or a poorer cooked
one; nor ever felt less inclination to force myself to partake.
Finally the soldiers indulged in a last drink, and disappeared through
the door into the night without. Tim slept soundly, while the other
men remained engrossed in their game of cards. Rale wiped off the bar,
glanced about at these, as though to reassure himself that they were
intent on their play; then, removing his apron, he crossed the room,
and drew up a chair opposite me.
"All right, Sal," he grunted shortly. "Bring on whut yer got."