THE PURSUIT
“White as a white sail on a dusky sea,
When half the horizon’s clouded and half free,
Fluttering between the dim wave and the sky,
Is hope’s last gleam in man’s extremity.” —Byron.
“Hope, for a time,
Suns the young floweret in its gladsome light,
And it looks flourishing—a little while—
Til passed.” —Miss London.
It will be remembered that we left Kate a few chapters back, about to be
embarked on the river.
Clouds had been hovering, all the latter part of the morning, around the
horizon; and about noon these had collected into the thunder-storm,
which we have seen pass over Chestnut Neck. Kate and her captors,
however, escaped the tempest, it being almost an hour in advance of
them.
With rapid strokes the refugees urged their boat along, as if desirous
to gain their destination, whatever it was, before nightfall. For nearly
an hour they continued to advance in this way, between shores still
overgrown with forest, with here and there a small clearing peeping out
on the river. At last, on turning a sudden bend in the stream, they came
in sight of a considerable settlement. A small field piece was mounted
near the bank; and quite a number of armed men lounged about; while a
couple of sentinels marched to and fro behind the cannon. On a
flag-staff, in front of one of the houses, floated the stars and stripes
of the confederated states.
Kate had noticed, that, as this settlement opened to view, the refugees
had kept away, as close as possible to the other side of the river: but
scarcely had they rounded the point and came fairly in view of the
sentinels, when a hail sounded across the water.
To pass this armed party was almost impossible, for the boat had still a
considerable distance to go before it would be in front of the
dwellings: and even if it should safely reach and pass that point, it
would be within range of their muskets for a long distance below, to say
nothing of the field piece. The heart of our heroine beat high with
hope. Here, when she least expected it, was succor. For she resolved,
the instant the boat came to, to declare herself and claim protection,
even if Arrison had his pistol at her heart.
The refugees appeared as disconcerted as she was overjoyed. They looked
at each other and at their leader in dismay; but continued pulling
lustily, still hugging the opposite shore. They were not allowed to go
far, however, unchecked; for the sentinels, finding their summons
disregarded, fired at the boat; and the ball of one of them passing
close to Arrison, he suddenly ordered a halt.
“This is the devil’s own work,” he said, savagely. “Keep still,
Miss, or I’ll put my knife into you,” he added, as Kate seized the
opportunity to waive her handkerchief; and he snatched the handkerchief
from her. “They are getting ready to fire their field-piece. We shall
never be able to pass them. Who’d have thought that the rebel knaves
would have rallied so quickly.”
“We’d better turn back,” said one of the men, who seemed the
leading person after Arrison. “It’s been slack water for some time,
and the tide will begin to run up directly; it’s making up, in fact,
already, along shore. Before we could get by, with no wind and a head
tide, they’d smash our boat to pieces with their cursed gun.”
“Back let it be then,” said Arrison, after a minute’s angry
reflection. “We’ll lose the bounty, lads; but,” he continued, as
if by a sudden thought, “we’ll have the prize; and gad! I’ll find
a way to make that pay you better than if we had gone on.”
A burst of brutal merriment from the man was the answer to this sally,
which, though partly enigmatical to Kate, had yet sufficient meaning to
her to terrify her beyond description. For the words seemed to imply
that the return of the ruffians would involve her in a more dreadful
peril than even that which she had escaped.
The sentinels had remained quiet, watching the boat during this pause,
because evidently expecting obedience to their summons. But when the
refugees turned her head up the stream, and began vigorously propelling
her in that direction, there was a general stir on shore, and several
persons, hastily running to the bank, fired their muskets at the
retreating boat. The balls came whistling by, and one even struck the
gunwale not far from Kate. Simultaneously the field piece was trained
after the fugitives, while a man ran to the nearest house as if for fire
to discharge it.
“Pull, pull for your lives, my boys,” shouted Arrison, leaning
forward and assisting the man who pulled the stroke oar. “If we once
get round the point again, we are safe.”
Kate saw, from the velocity with which they moved, that this object
would soon be gained. She feared also that the patriots had not seen
her, and would probably not pursue the boat. With the quick decision and
boldness of her character she rose suddenly from her seat, and screamed
for help, making gestures of appeal to those on shore.
But, almost instantaneously, Arrison, who had seen her rise, struck her
a violent blow, which felled her nearly senseless into the stern-sheets.
Here she lay, comparatively helpless for a while, stifling the moan
which pain extracted from her.
Meantime, however, her scream had been heard on shore. The firing of the
field piece was stopped. But, in its place, a boat, which lay near the
bank, was instantly manned by several of the men, and a pursuit begun.
The refugees had, indeed, a considerable start; but so energetically did
the patriots row, that, before the former had got half a mile beyond the
bend, the latter were seen rounding it gallantly in full chase.
The struggle soon became one of thrilling interest. The refugees had the
lightest boat, but were fatigued with their day’s toil, and with their
exertions at the oars in descending the river; while the patriots were
entirely fresh. In a short while, consequently, it became apparent that
the former were losing ground.
Arrison, at this, broke into a torrent of oaths, and urged his crew
afresh.
“Pull, pull,” he cried; “do you want to taste cold hemp, you
rascals?”
The stimulus of these words produced a perceptible influence on the
speed of the boat. The refugees, stripped to their shirts, and with
their chests and arms bared, toiled at the oars till the big drops of
perspiration gathered like beads upon them. The stout ashen blades, with
which they propelled their craft, bent until they seemed about to snap
in two. The boat itself fairly leaped along, the water surging under her
bows, or whirling in roaring eddies from the rudder.
“We hold our own now,” cried Arrison, swaying to the strokes of the
oarsmen. “Pull, pull, and we’ll gain on them. There, we made
something at the short bend. No,” he added, suddenly, his inflamed
face reddening still more, “they cut across after us. Pull, pull, I
say,” he shouted, “or we are taken.”
As he spoke, he glanced over his shoulder continually and in perceptible
anxiety. The men knew that the chase was for life and death; and
rallying all their strength, they struggled on.
Meantime the exertions of the other crew were not a whit behind those of
the refugees. Their helmsman could be seen stimulating them by pointing
to Kate; and continually one or more of them glanced over his shoulder
to see how the chase went on. The water flashed and glittered in the
fading sunlight, as it fell showered from the blades of their oars;
while the cataract of foam that rolled under the bows of their craft,
proved with what velocity they were driving her along.
“Give way, stronger and longer,” shouted Arrison, looking over his
shoulders for the thirtieth time during the last half hour, “they gain
again on us. Give way, or we are lost.”
They had just crossed from one side to another of the river, in order to
take the shortest cut up the next reach, and Arrison had confidently
expected to see their pursuers follow in his track. But the patriots, by
selecting a somewhat different course, had apparently secured more of
the current, for they were now rapidly coming up, lessening the distance
between the two boats astonishingly.
The refugees, like hounds incited by a fresh blast of the hunter’s
horn, sprang anew to their task; and for awhile their boat perceptibly
increased her swiftness. But the pursuers, observing how much they had
gained by their helmsman’s dexterity, cheered lustily, and stretched
to their strong blades, like thorough-breds coming down the last
quarter. Gaining steadily now at every stroke, they rapidly approached,
huzza following huzza, in the confidence of approaching victory.
Much of this advantage was evidently owing to their helmsman, who, by
still continuing his adroit manoeuvres, constantly cut off more or less
of the distance, or availed himself of more powerful currents of the
tide. He plainly knew the river even better than Arrison.
The countenance of the refugees had been darkening with sullen despair
for some time, when at last Arrison’s lieutenant broke the silence, by
addressing their leader.
“They gain on us, captain,” he said.
“Yes,” was Arrison’s curt reply.
“That fellow knows how to steer.”
“Yes! curse him.”
Nothing could exceed the intense bitterness with which this was
pronounced.
“Couldn’t you manage to put a ball through him?” continued the
lieutenant.
Arrison half started from his seat as if he had himself been shot.
“By the Lord,” he cried, a gleam of savage delight breaking over his
face, “it’s the very thing. Why didn’t I think of it?”
He seized a loaded musket as he spoke, turned, took rapid but sure aim,
and fired.
It was all done so quickly, that Kate, who had sprung up as soon as she
comprehended the plan, in order to knock down the refugee’s gun, had
not time to effect her purpose, before the report sounded heavily on the
evening air.
“He’s hit,” cried Arrison, with a hurrah, not seeming to notice
Kate, and leaving his lieutenant, who pulled the stroke oar, to drag her
down again. “See, they stop.”
As he spoke, the crew of the pursuing boat ceased rowing, and the two
nearest rushed aft, for the coxswain had fallen across the seat, as if
dead. When they lifted him up he had every appearance of being lifeless.
For the first time, on that agitating day, Kate burst into tears. The
hopes of rescue, but a moment before, had amounted almost to a
certainty; but now it would be impossible, she knew, for the pursuers to
overtake the refugees.
The patriots apparently had come to the same conclusion, for one of them
suddenly took up a musket, as if their only hope was in disabling the
refugees in turn; but just as he was about to fire, a companion knocked
the gun down, pointing vehemently, as if at Kate.
“Oh! if they would but disregard me and fire,” she cried to herself.
But her agonized exclamation was in vain. After a few moments,
apparently employed in eager consultation, the patriots turned the head
of their boat down stream, and reluctantly gave up the chase.
All this time the refugees had been rapidly increasing the distance
between them and their pursuers. But at this sight, they burst into a
huzza.
“Now you can take it more easily, lads,” cried Arrison. “These
fellows have had pepper enough for their supper.”
The men laughed at his coarse wit, and relaxing their exertions, rowed
slowly up the river, wiping the perspiration from their heated brows;
and in the general hilarity, Kate’s daring attempt at interference was
either pardoned or forgotten.
Faint from physical exhaustion, from the blow she had received, and from
the utter destruction of her lately awakened hopes, Kate lay, or rather
reclined in the sternsheets, where she had been thrust down by the
lieutenant. More than once, in her despair, she was tempted to throw
herself overboard and seek refuge in death. Perhaps Arrison suspected
her of such a purpose, for he kept his eye almost constantly on her, so
that, even if she had made the attempt, he would have been able
instantly to frustrate it.
The night now began to fall. Yet, for nearly an hour, the refugees
continued to urge forward their boat. At last, landing on the southern
bank of the river, they rudely bade Kate arise. Resistance was in vain.
While Arrison proceeded to cut off the superfluous part of her
riding-skirt, so that she might walk, one of the gang took her by either
arm. In this way they led, or rather dragged her, over rough wood-paths,
and by circuitous ways, deep into the forest.
After a journey that appeared to her to extend to hours, they reached a
house, surrounded on all sides by swamps. A savage bloodhound came forth
baying to welcome them, eyeing Kate curiously, and by no means in a
friendly spirit.
“Down, sir, down,” said Arrison, addressing the dog: and entering
the house he said to his prisoner, “we have but two rooms here. You
will occupy that,” and he pointed to an inner one.
With these words, he pushed her unceremoniously in.