WE slept most all day, and started
out at night, a little ways behind
a monstrous long raft that was
as long going by as a procession.
She had four long sweeps at each
end, so we judged she carried
as many as thirty men, likely.
She had five big wigwams aboard,
wide apart, and an open camp
fire in the middle, and a tall
flag-pole at each end. There
was a power of style about her.
It AMOUNTED to something being
a raftsman on such a craft as
that.
We went drifting down into
a big bend, and the night clouded
up and got hot. The river was
very wide, and was walled with
solid timber on both sides; you
couldn't see a break in it hardly
ever, or a light. We talked about
Cairo, and wondered whether we
would know it when we got to
it. I said likely we wouldn't,
because I had heard say there
warn't but about a dozen houses
there, and if they didn't happen
to have them lit up, how was
we going to know we was passing
a town? Jim said if the two big
rivers joined together there,
that would show. But I said maybe
we might think we was passing
the foot of an island and coming
into the same old river again.
That disturbed Jim -- and me
too. So the question was, what
to do? I said, paddle ashore
the first time a light showed,
and tell them pap was behind,
coming along with a trading-scow,
and was a green hand at the business,
and wanted to know how far it
was to Cairo. Jim thought it
was a good idea, so we took a
smoke on it and waited.
There warn't nothing to do
now but to look out sharp for
the town, and not pass it without
seeing it. He said he'd be mighty
sure to see it, because he'd
be a free man the minute he seen
it, but if he missed it he'd
be in a slave country again and
no more show for freedom. Every
little while he jumps up and
says:
"Dah she is?"
But it warn't.
It was Jack-o'-lanterns, or
lightning bugs; so he set
down again, and went to watching,
same as before. Jim said it made
him all over trembly and feverish
to be so close to freedom. Well,
I can tell you it made me all
over trembly and feverish, too,
to hear him, because I begun
to get it through my head that
he WAS most free -- and who was
to blame for it? Why, ME. I couldn't
get that out of my conscience,
no how nor no way. It got to
troubling me so I couldn't rest;
I couldn't stay still in one
place. It hadn't ever come home
to me before, what this thing
was that I was doing. But now
it did; and it stayed with me,
and scorched me more and more.
I tried to make out to myself
that I warn't to blame, because
I didn't run Jim off from his
rightful owner; but it warn't
no use, conscience up and says,
every time, "But you knowed he
was running for his freedom,
and you could a paddled ashore
and told somebody." That was
so -- I couldn't get around that
noway. That was where it pinched.
Conscience says to me, "What
had poor Miss Watson done to
you that you could see her nigger
go off right under your eyes
and never say one single word?
What did that poor old woman
do to you that you could treat
her so mean? Why, she tried to
learn you your book, she tried
to learn you your manners, she
tried to be good to you every
way she knowed how. THAT'S what
she done."
I got to feeling
so mean and so miserable I
most wished I
was dead. I fidgeted up and down
the raft, abusing myself to myself,
and Jim was fidgeting up and
down past me. We neither of us
could keep still. Every time
he danced around and says, "Dah's
Cairo!" it went through me like
a shot, and I thought if it WAS
Cairo I reckoned I would die
of miserableness.
Jim talked out loud all the
time while I was talking to myself.
He was saying how the first thing
he would do when he got to a
free State he would go to saving
up money and never spend a single
cent, and when he got enough
he would buy his wife, which
was owned on a farm close to
where Miss Watson lived; and
then they would both work to
buy the two children, and if
their master wouldn't sell them,
they'd get an Ab'litionist to
go and steal them.
It most froze
me to hear such talk. He wouldn't
ever dared
to talk such talk in his life
before. Just see what a difference
it made in him the minute he
judged he was about free. It
was according to the old saying, "Give
a nigger an inch and he'll take
an ell." Thinks I, this is what
comes of my not thinking. Here
was this nigger, which I had
as good as helped to run away,
coming right out flat-footed
and saying he would steal his
children -- children that belonged
to a man I didn't even know;
a man that hadn't ever done me
no harm.
I was sorry
to hear Jim say that, it was
such a lowering
of him. My conscience got to
stirring me up hotter than ever,
until at last I says to it, "Let
up on me -- it ain't too late
yet -- I'll paddle ashore at
the first light and tell." I
felt easy and happy and light
as a feather right off. All my
troubles was gone. I went to
looking out sharp for a light,
and sort of singing to myself.
By and by one showed. Jim sings
out:
"We's safe,
Huck, we's safe! Jump up and
crack yo' heels!
Dat's de good ole Cairo at las',
I jis knows it!"
I says:
"I'll take
the canoe and go and see, Jim.
It mightn't be,
you know."
He jumped and got the canoe
ready, and put his old coat in
the bottom for me to set on,
and give me the paddle; and as
I shoved off, he says:
"Pooty soon
I'll be a-shout'n' for joy,
en I'll say, it's all
on accounts o' Huck; I's a free
man, en I couldn't ever ben free
ef it hadn' ben for Huck; Huck
done it. Jim won't ever forgit
you, Huck; you's de bes' fren'
Jim's ever had; en you's de ONLY
fren' ole Jim's got now."
I was paddling off, all in
a sweat to tell on him; but when
he says this, it seemed to kind
of take the tuck all out of me.
I went along slow then, and I
warn't right down certain whether
I was glad I started or whether
I warn't. When I was fifty yards
off, Jim says:
"Dah you goes,
de ole true Huck; de on'y white
genlman dat
ever kep' his promise to ole
Jim."
Well, I just felt sick. But
I says, I GOT to do it -- I can't
get OUT of it. Right then along
comes a skiff with two men in
it with guns, and they stopped
and I stopped. One of them says:
"What's that
yonder?"
"A piece of a raft," I
says.
"Do you belong
on it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Any men on
it?"
"Only one,
sir."
"Well, there's
five niggers run off to-night
up yonder, above
the head of the bend. Is your
man white or black?"
I didn't answer up prompt.
I tried to, but the words wouldn't
come. I tried for a second or
two to brace up and out with
it, but I warn't man enough --
hadn't the spunk of a rabbit.
I see I was weakening; so I just
give up trying, and up and says:
"He's white."
"I reckon we'll
go and see for ourselves."
"I wish you would," says I, "because
it's pap that's there, and maybe
you'd help me tow the raft ashore
where the light is. He's sick
-- and so is mam and Mary Ann."
"Oh, the devil!
we're in a hurry, boy. But
I s'pose we've
got to. Come, buckle to your
paddle, and let's get along."
I buckled to my paddle and
they laid to their oars. When
we had made a stroke or two,
I says:
"Pap'll be
mighty much obleeged to you,
I can tell you. Everybody
goes away when I want them to
help me tow the raft ashore,
and I can't do it by myself."
"Well, that's
infernal mean. Odd, too. Say,
boy, what's the
matter with your father?"
"It's the --
a -- the -- well, it ain't
anything much."
They stopped pulling. It warn't
but a mighty little ways to the
raft now. One says:
"Boy, that's
a lie. What IS the matter with
your pap? Answer
up square now, and it'll be the
better for you."
"I will, sir,
I will, honest -- but don't
leave us, please.
It's the -- the -- Gentlemen,
if you'll only pull ahead, and
let me heave you the headline,
you won't have to come a-near
the raft -- please do."
"Set her back, John, set her
back!" says one. They backed
water. "Keep away, boy -- keep
to looard. Confound it, I just
expect the wind has blowed it
to us. Your pap's got the small-pox,
and you know it precious well.
Why didn't you come out and say
so? Do you want to spread it
all over?"
"Well," says I, a-blubbering, "I've
told everybody before, and they
just went away and left us."
"Poor devil,
there's something in that.
We are right down sorry
for you, but we -- well, hang
it, we don't want the small-pox,
you see. Look here, I'll tell
you what to do. Don't you try
to land by yourself, or you'll
smash everything to pieces. You
float along down about twenty
miles, and you'll come to a town
on the left-hand side of the
river. It will be long after
sun-up then, and when you ask
for help you tell them your folks
are all down with chills and
fever. Don't be a fool again,
and let people guess what is
the matter. Now we're trying
to do you a kindness; so you
just put twenty miles between
us, that's a good boy. It wouldn't
do any good to land yonder where
the light is -- it's only a wood-yard.
Say, I reckon your father's poor,
and I'm bound to say he's in
pretty hard luck. Here, I'll
put a twentydollar gold piece
on this board, and you get it
when it floats by. I feel mighty
mean to leave you; but my kingdom!
it won't do to fool with small-pox,
don't you see?"
"Hold on, Parker," says the
other man, "here's a twenty to
put on the board for me. Good-bye,
boy; you do as Mr. Parker told
you, and you'll be all right."
"That's so,
my boy -- good-bye, good-bye.
If you see any runaway
niggers you get help and nab
them, and you can make some money
by it."
"Good-bye, sir," says I; "I
won't let no runaway niggers
get by me if I can help it."
They went off and I got aboard
the raft, feeling bad and low,
because I knowed very well I
had done wrong, and I see it
warn't no use for me to try to
learn to do right; a body that
don't get STARTED right when
he's little ain't got no show
-- when the pinch comes there
ain't nothing to back him up
and keep him to his work, and
so he gets beat. Then I thought
a minute, and says to myself,
hold on; s'pose you'd a done
right and give Jim up, would
you felt better than what you
do now? No, says I, I'd feel
bad -- I'd feel just the same
way I do now. Well, then, says
I, what's the use you learning
to do right when it's troublesome
to do right and ain't no trouble
to do wrong, and the wages is
just the same? I was stuck. I
couldn't answer that. So I reckoned
I wouldn't bother no more about
it, but after this always do
whichever come handiest at the
time.
I went into the wigwam; Jim
warn't there. I looked all around;
he warn't anywhere. I says:
"Jim!"
"Here I is,
Huck. Is dey out o' sight yit?
Don't talk loud."
He was in the river under the
stern oar, with just his nose
out. I told him they were out
of sight, so he come aboard.
He says:
"I was a-listenin'
to all de talk, en I slips
into de river
en was gwyne to shove for sho'
if dey come aboard. Den I was
gwyne to swim to de raf' agin
when dey was gone. But lawsy,
how you did fool 'em, Huck! Dat
WUZ de smartes' dodge! I tell
you, chile, I'spec it save' ole
Jim -- ole Jim ain't going to
forgit you for dat, honey."
Then we talked about the money.
It was a pretty good raise --
twenty dollars apiece. Jim said
we could take deck passage on
a steamboat now, and the money
would last us as far as we wanted
to go in the free States. He
said twenty mile more warn't
far for the raft to go, but he
wished we was already there.
Towards daybreak we tied up,
and Jim was mighty particular
about hiding the raft good. Then
he worked all day fixing things
in bundles, and getting all ready
to quit rafting.
That night about ten we hove
in sight of the lights of a town
away down in a left-hand bend.
I went off in the canoe to
ask about it. Pretty soon I found
a man out in the river with a
skiff, setting a trotline. I
ranged up and says:
"Mister, is
that town Cairo?"
"Cairo? no.
You must be a blame' fool."
"What town
is it, mister?"
"If you want
to know, go and find out. If
you stay here botherin'
around me for about a half a
minute longer you'll get something
you won't want."
I paddled to the raft. Jim
was awful disappointed, but I
said never mind, Cairo would
be the next place, I reckoned.
We passed another town before
daylight, and I was going out
again; but it was high ground,
so I didn't go. No high ground
about Cairo, Jim said. I had
forgot it. We laid up for the
day on a towhead tolerable close
to the left-hand bank. I begun
to suspicion something. So did
Jim. I says:
"Maybe we went
by Cairo in the fog that night."
He says:
"Doan' le's
talk about it, Huck. Po' niggers
can't have
no luck. I awluz 'spected dat
rattlesnake-skin warn't done
wid its work."
"I wish I'd
never seen that snake-skin,
Jim -- I do wish
I'd never laid eyes on it."
"It ain't yo'
fault, Huck; you didn' know.
Don't you blame
yo'self 'bout it."
When it was daylight, here
was the clear Ohio water inshore,
sure enough, and outside was
the old regular Muddy! So it
was all up with Cairo.
We talked it all over. It wouldn't
do to take to the shore; we couldn't
take the raft up the stream,
of course. There warn't no way
but to wait for dark, and start
back in the canoe and take the
chances. So we slept all day
amongst the cottonwood thicket,
so as to be fresh for the work,
and when we went back to the
raft about dark the canoe was
gone!
We didn't say a word for a
good while. There warn't anything
to say. We both knowed well enough
it was some more work of the
rattlesnake-skin; so what was
the use to talk about it? It
would only look like we was finding
fault, and that would be bound
to fetch more bad luck -- and
keep on fetching it, too, till
we knowed enough to keep still.
By and by we talked about what
we better do, and found there
warn't no way but just to go
along down with the raft till
we got a chance to buy a canoe
to go back in. We warn't going
to borrow it when there warn't
anybody around, the way pap would
do, for that might set people
after us.
So we shoved out after dark
on the raft.
Anybody that don't believe
yet that it's foolishness to
handle a snake-skin, after all
that that snake-skin done for
us, will believe it now if they
read on and see what more it
done for us.
The place to buy canoes is
off of rafts laying up at shore.
But we didn't see no rafts laying
up; so we went along during three
hours and more. Well, the night
got gray and ruther thick, which
is the next meanest thing to
fog. You can't tell the shape
of the river, and you can't see
no distance. It got to be very
late and still, and then along
comes a steamboat up the river.
We lit the lantern, and judged
she would see it. Up-stream boats
didn't generly come close to
us; they go out and follow the
bars and hunt for easy water
under the reefs; but nights like
this they bull right up the channel
against the whole river.
We could hear her pounding
along, but we didn't see her
good till she was close. She
aimed right for us. Often they
do that and try to see how close
they can come without touching;
sometimes the wheel bites off
a sweep, and then the pilot sticks
his head out and laughs, and
thinks he's mighty smart. Well,
here she comes, and we said she
was going to try and shave us;
but she didn't seem to be sheering
off a bit. She was a big one,
and she was coming in a hurry,
too, looking like a black cloud
with rows of glow-worms around
it; but all of a sudden she bulged
out, big and scary, with a long
row of wide-open furnace doors
shining like red-hot teeth, and
her monstrous bows and guards
hanging right over us. There
was a yell at us, and a jingling
of bells to stop the engines,
a powwow of cussing, and whistling
of steam -- and as Jim went overboard
on one side and I on the other,
she come smashing straight through
the raft.
I dived -- and I aimed to find
the bottom, too, for a thirty-foot
wheel had got to go over me,
and I wanted it to have plenty
of room. I could always stay
under water a minute; this time
I reckon I stayed under a minute
and a half. Then I bounced for
the top in a hurry, for I was
nearly busting. I popped out
to my armpits and blowed the
water out of my nose, and puffed
a bit. Of course there was a
booming current; and of course
that boat started her engines
again ten seconds after she stopped
them, for they never cared much
for raftsmen; so now she was
churning along up the river,
out of sight in the thick weather,
though I could hear her.
I sung out
for Jim about a dozen times,
but I didn't get
any answer; so I grabbed a plank
that touched me while I was "treading
water," and struck out for shore,
shoving it ahead of me. But I
made out to see that the drift
of the current was towards the
lefthand shore, which meant that
I was in a crossing; so I changed
off and went that way.
It was one of these long, slanting,
two-mile crossings; so I was
a good long time in getting over.
I made a safe landing, and clumb
up the bank. I couldn't see but
a little ways, but I went poking
along over rough ground for a
quarter of a mile or more, and
then I run across a big old-fashioned
double log-house before I noticed
it. I was going to rush by and
get away, but a lot of dogs jumped
out and went to howling and barking
at me, and I knowed better than
to move another peg. |