Prisoners of Chance Part 12

A COVERT IN THE CANE

Our boat was securely hidden amid a thick growth of reeds, which extended their domain far down the sh.o.r.e, even out into the river shallows. These reeds sprang quickly back into position as we pressed through, leaving no trail for pursuers to follow. Nevertheless, making all secure on board, and removing from the locker a quant.i.ty of biscuit and some smoked meat, we took the further precaution of covering the boat with rushes so as thoroughly to disguise its presence from prying eyes. Satisfied with the result of these efforts, we clambered up the slight ridge to where we found a small open s.p.a.ce, carpeted with soft gra.s.s, and sufficiently elevated to permit our looking about above the level of the cane, while remaining concealed ourselves.

Our lodgment was upon a small island, a stream of languidly flowing water extending between us and the main west sh.o.r.e. This, so far as my eyes could distinguish, did not differ in appearance from our present abiding place, being composed of low, swampy land, thickly covered with a heavy growth of cane, and exhibiting no sign of human habitation.

The sole break to this dull monotony of outline was a narrow fringe of trees situated farther back, where doubtless firmer soil gave spread to their roots.

Northward the eye might trace the slight curve of the bank for miles.

It appeared irregular and low, slightly diversified by small, marshy islands, similar to this we occupied, possibly cloven from the mainland by some eccentricity of current. Occasionally I distinguished openings into lagoons, such pa.s.sages into the low-lying mainland being evidenced by the deeper green of the vegetation bordering them, as well as by wind-twisted trees clinging despairingly to the crooked banks. East and south swept the river, so broad our eyes could barely trace the dim presence of a distant sh.o.r.e. Below, that majestic yellow flood poured downward unbroken, although De Noyan imagined he perceived distant spars of the Spanish fleet outlined against the blue background of the southern sky. This may have been possible, yet to my eyes all was blank, although I could mark pretty accurately where they should have been.

We indulged in little conversation, reclining on the short gra.s.s, partaking of our cold meal. The Chevalier attempted a sorry jest or two, yet soon subsided, discovering so unresponsive an audience. It was plain to my mind the reflections of Madame were altogether with her father--lying dead before this hour--and this sad memory darkened even the delight of her husband's safety. His affected gayety of manner, and reckless speech, jarred more harshly upon her in this hour than perhaps ever before in her life. Yet she made a pathetically brave effort to appear of good cheer, managing to eat with us, although it was easy to perceive the food choked her, while her eyes were blurred with tears resolutely held in restraint. It was plain, I say, yet this is but my thought, for I question whether De Noyan, in his careless mood, observed her depression. He was of a nature reflecting slightly on any save himself; past sorrow being quickly forgotten in any present gleam of sun. As we thus ended this silent meal it occurred to me they might require slumber more than I, and I expressed my willingness to stand guard while they sought rest. Perhaps my face told a tale of weariness easily read, for this proposal met immediate resistance.

"No, no, Geoffrey Benteen," exclaimed Madame impulsively, "what have I done except sit quietly in a boat, waiting the pa.s.sing of the hours?

You have been through strain and labor which wears out life. It is you who will lie here upon my wrap, trusting me to call should need arise."

"Hush, both of you," impatiently burst in De Noyan, rising to his feet, and gazing across the sparkling water. "A watch would have small value. There is no safer spot on all the lower river than this; if the Dons discover it, no way of escape exists even were we all awake and ready. To remain quiet is all we can do, and how can we accomplish that better than by going to sleep? _Sacre_! I am a soldier, and not apt to make light of a guard, yet," and he stifled a yawn, "I see no necessity here, nor could I be more completely played after a night of dancing at a Creole ball."

Thus the matter was agreed upon, not altogether to my liking, but I yielded owing to too great weariness to argue. At first Madame protested she could not sleep, yet finally consented to lie down. As to myself my head had scarcely pressed the soft pillow of gra.s.s before I was lost in slumber.

A blessing of youth lies in the fact that sleep then truly gives rest.

The tired body responds so thoroughly to the gentle touch of slumber that the latter becomes a magician capable of restoring every faculty to complete power. It was thus I rested motionless, and it was nearly evening before I stirred, although the sun must have been streaming directly across my upturned face for hours. I awoke to perfect consciousness of our situation, as naturally as ever in a bed at home.

Dimly impressed that some unusual noise had aroused me, I immediately sat upright. This change of posture brought my eyes on a level with the tops of the cane on either side, and, my face being turned southward, there was outspread before me the full, broad sweep of the Mississippi, glinting under the westering sun, so that for a moment it dazzled eyes yet clogged with the heaviness of sleep. Then I perceived what afforded me so severe a shock that I ducked hastily down into my covert, every faculty instantly alert. Close in against the reeds, as though skirting the low line of the sh.o.r.e, loomed the black outline of a large boat.

Coming bow on toward the place of our concealment, every eye in her would naturally be scanning the spot where we lay hidden, and I durst not raise my head again until a.s.sured they had pa.s.sed by. I rolled partially over to gain view of the others of our own party. Both were slumbering heavily, Eloise near the western edge of the little gra.s.s plot, wrapped within a great shawl so as to leave not even her head visible, while De Noyan rested within easy reach of my outstretched arm, breathing so heavily I felt it safer to arouse him, before that strange boat should come abreast. It required severe shaking, his sleep being that of sheer exhaustion, yet he proved sufficiently a trained soldier to obey instantly my signal for silence. Nor were words needed to explain the reason, as by this time the sound of oars was clearly audible. Suddenly some one spoke, apparently at our very side. Lying as I was I noticed the shawl pushed hastily down from Madame's face, her brown eyes gazing questioningly across into my own; yet, with rare self-control, not so much as a limb quivered.

"I tell you, _padre_, there's nothing along this cursed cane-marsh,"

growled a deep rumbling voice in Spanish. "It is a mere bog, in which a man would sink to his armpits, were he to venture outside the boat."

"Bog it may be," retorted a sharper, petulant voice, the sound of which was oddly familiar, "but I tell you this, Senor, 'tis on this very sh.o.r.e French gallants come hunting from New Orleans. There is dry land in plenty beyond the fringe of reeds."

"_Saprista_! there may be, as there may be water in h.e.l.l, but I 'll never tangle my boat amid that ma.s.s of cane to make its discovery. Let the frog-eaters have it, say I; the saints bless them. Come, pull away sharply, lads, and we'll see what the sh.o.r.e-line looks like above."

The sound of dipping oars instantly increased in rapidity.

"You are one pig-headed fool of an officer, Senor," snarled the sharp voice contemptuously.

"Mother of G.o.d!" roared the other, enraged. "Speak so again, you dog of a French priest, and even your gray robe will not save you from tasting the mud at the bottom. Do you want to know what I think of you? Well, I 'll tell you, you snivelling, drunken singer of paternosters--you did more to help that fellow escape than you 'd care to have known. Now you 're trying to hold us back until he has time to get safely away up the river. That's my opinion of you, you snarling gray-back, and if you dare breathe another word, I 'll give orders to chuck you overboard."

"Where do you purpose going?" ventured the cowed priest, in a subdued tone.

"Straight up the stream. That's where your cursed Frenchman has disappeared so swiftly, unless the guard at the North Gate shot him, as they swear to O'Reilly. So sit there quiet, and hold your tongue--you may command the Devil, for all I care, but I 'm in charge of this boat."

The sound of angry controversy died away in the distance. Cautiously I lifted my eyes to the level of the cane, and peered over. The Spanish boat, a large one propelled by the vigorous sweep of twelve oars, was already a hundred yards above, swiftly stemming the current. From their gestures I judged the debate yet raged between the gray-robe crouched in the stern, and the big, burly fellow, resplendent in gold lace, standing up and urging his oarsmen to greater exertion. Within ten minutes they rounded the upper point, and when they again appeared within vision, the boat was a mere dot floating in the midst of the golden suns.h.i.+ne, where the setting sun gave a good-night kiss to the vast, sombre river.

De Noyan's boyish face was aglow with unconcealed amus.e.m.e.nt as I turned toward him.

"Well, Benteen," he asked, twirling his moustache, and staring after them, "what was it the Dons said? _Peste_! I could not make out a word of their lingo, except when the fellows swore."

I repeated to him the conversation, and he burst into a hearty laugh.

"Indeed, a sweet-scented Frenchman, that Capuchin priest," he said carelessly. "I wonder what has so set the drunken fool against me?"

"It is not you, Chevalier," I acknowledged, feeling a touch of his spirit; "it is rather that lad who landed so heavily behind his ear last night, and who ran such a merry masquerade in monk's robe as never Spanish war-s.h.i.+p saw before. I warrant it is I the holy father seeks so savagely. Faith, it would be pleasant to know how he got out of the pickle in which I left him. 'T is odd the Dons did not use him in your place."

"Ay, that will be the cause, for I did nothing to anger the fellow, except it was to laugh at his prayers, with a joke at the quality of his Latin. But Dieu protect you, Monsieur, if ever he gets whip-hand.

A revengeful priest is more to be feared than a rabid dog. I stirred one of his breed once at the Cathedral by some wild prank, and carry the scar of it still. But come, it becomes dusk. Let's break our fast, and while eating consider the best plan for the night. Eloise, do you awaken refreshed?"

She came quickly forward, a smile for us both, looking dainty and sweet, although the heavy ma.s.s of brown hair appeared somewhat dishevelled from her unaccustomed pillow.

"I must have been exceedingly tired," she confessed pleasantly, "for I slept with never a dream, and this is my first experience of lying without the covering of a roof. It was all strange and solemn at first, with never a sound except the dismal whispering of wind through the cane, and the dull murmur of the river. The very, stillness, no doubt, lulled me to slumber. Nay!" and she sprang hastily forward, taking from my hands the few provisions I was bearing. "That is to be my part of the work, Geoffrey Benteen, not yours. You will find hard enough task before morning, while there remains so little for me that I refuse to be robbed of any rights."

I realized, watching her prepare our scant meal, that she was bravely endeavoring to appear gay, while her heart remained heavy from memory of her father. Whether this a.s.sumed levity deceived De Noyan I cannot say--he was of a volatile nature, easily swayed by either smile or tear, and instantly joined responsive to her seeming mood. I left them thus, engaged in pleasant badinage, while seeking some spot where I might bathe my heated face. It was no small hards.h.i.+p to watch them thus together.

Seated upon the gra.s.s, lingering over the rude repast, we discussed our situation, seeking to outline vaguely our future plans. De Noyan was for keeping close against the western bank as we progressed northward.

He had hunted amid the marshes, and remembered sufficiently the formation of the sh.o.r.e-line to be aware that for several leagues it remained thickly skirted by small islands, while numerous bayous offered secure hiding-places. In this choice I acquiesced, urging also that the downward flow of the current would sweep with greater force along the opposite sh.o.r.e; besides which the search-boat, just pa.s.sing us on the way up-stream, would be more likely to return along the eastern bank.

"There is no reason," I continued, "why we should delay departure longer. We can keep the boat beneath the shadows of the bank, and even if the Dons stop to make camp, they would hardly do so without building a fire, which would afford ample warning to sheer out into the stream.

If they return along this sh.o.r.e--as is unlikely--we should hear the heavy strokes of their oars before they caught the sound of our lighter ones. I am for embarking at once."

This agreed upon, within a half-hour we were pus.h.i.+ng slow pa.s.sage through the thick cane, soon finding ourselves once again afloat upon the broad water, the prow of our boat turned up-stream, while here and there a dim star winked down upon us between scurrying clouds.

CHAPTER XI

A NIGHT IN THE BOAT

This was one of many nights we pa.s.sed in the narrow confines of the boat during our flight northward. Yet its incidents remain in memory with peculiar distinctness of detail. I do not recall exactly how it occurred, but my duty during that first night chanced to place me at the after oar. In consequence I sat directly facing Madame de Noyan, operating the rudder bar. It was so warm, merely a delicate, fragrant breeze blowing from the south, she had felt no necessity for drawing up her hood, and the soft light of distant stars, glimmering along the bosom of the river, reflected back into her face, illumining it until I could almost note the changing expression within her dark eyes.

It was a sadder, graver face than the one I a.s.sociated with her girlhood. Yet I could scarce forbear an impression that it was now a sweeter one, more womanly, faint lines beginning to mark its satin smoothness with impress of sorrow. To my thought a new, higher womanhood had found birth within, during weary days and nights of suspense and suffering. It was yet torture to me constantly beholding these two together, but, as I observed her then, I thanked the good G.o.d who had permitted me to be near her in time of trial. In patience I would serve, even though I must suffer. Tears were clinging to her long lashes, and occasionally one would glitter an instant upon her white cheek, as she leaned her face upon one hand, from which the loose sleeve fell away, revealing an arm like chiselled marble. She made no effort at concealing these evidences of emotion, doubtless believing them sufficiently hidden by the gloomy shadows. Nor did she appear to glance at me, keeping her own gaze directly ahead, where the dark, swirling waters merged into the mystery of the North.

We were none of us in talkative mood--although I heard De Noyan, behind me, humming a light French air, as though perfectly free from trouble--and I have no recollection of exchanging a word for more than an hour. We merely continued to pull st.u.r.dily against the downward rush of the stream, the deep silence of the night broken only by the dripping of uplifted blades, or the occasional far-off hooting of an owl upon the bank to our left. The pressure of the river's current was scarcely perceptible close against the sh.o.r.e, so we made fair progress.

Yet it was hard work, neither of us being accustomed to such exercise, the heavy oars feeling awkward to the hand. The grim uncertainty of the future, coupled with our solitary surroundings, exercised a depressing influence upon the spirits of each, although differing widely in degree, according to our several natures. Undoubtedly this same sense of dreariness led De Noyan to sing, caused me such painful restlessness under that same singing, and left Eloise saddened in her lonely thoughts.

Every occurrence impressed me that night as unusual. Perchance this was because both heart and head were sadly out of tune. Yet, at best, it was a lonesome journey, and remains a grewsome memory, haunting with many a spectre, as weird as the shadows of delirium. The few stars, peeping shyly forth between scurrying black cloud ma.s.ses, were so far away they merely silvered the cloud edges, leaving them as though carven from granite. The low sh.o.r.e, often within reach of our oar blades, appeared gloomy and inhospitable, the spectral rushes creeping far out upon the water like living things, seeming to grasp after us as the wind swept them, and we glided past in phantom silence. Beyond, like a great black wall, arose higher ground, occasionally jutting into bare bluffs outlined against the lighter sky; again diversified by gaunt dead trees, their fleshless limbs extended upward toward ghostly pillars of vapor ever floating from off the river's surface.

Occasionally, jaggedly uneven, close-set trunks of forest growth would appear, spectral in solemn ugliness, a veritable hedge, impenetrable and grim.

If, with a shudder of disgust, I turned away from that lorn, dead line of sh.o.r.e, my eyes swept a waste of waters slipping solemnly past, while farther out, where sky and stream met and mingled in wild riot, the surging river swirled and leaped, its white-capped waves evidencing resistless volume. It was a sight to awe one, that immense ma.s.s pouring forth from the upper darkness, flas.h.i.+ng an instant beneath the star-gleam, only to disappear, a restless, relentless flood, black, unpitying, impenetrable, mysterious, a savage monster, beyond whose outstretched claws we crept, yet who at any moment might clutch us helpless in a horrible embrace. It was a sight to stun, that brutal flood, gliding ever downward, while, far as eye could see, stretched the same drear expanse of cruel waters.

From out that mystery would suddenly emerge, rolling toward us, as if born of the shadows, some grim apparition, a wildly tossing figure, with gaunt, uplifted arms beating the air, to startle for an instant, then fade from our ken into the dimness below. Well I knew it was only driftwood, the gnarled trunk of uprooted tree made sport with by mad waves, yet more than once I shrank backward, my unstrung nerves tingling, as such shapeless, uncanny thing was hurled past like an arrow. Nor were the noises that broke the silence less fearsome. Bred to the wilderness, I little minded loneliness when in the depths of the backwoods, but this was different. I cared nothing for the honk of wild fowl overhead, nor those sounds of varied animal life borne to us from off the black land; but that strange, dull roar, caused by great logs grinding together in the swirl of the current, and the groaning of bits of undermined sh.o.r.e as they gave way and dropped heavily into the water, racked my nerves.

The peace I found lay in that sweet face, turned partially away, yet appearing fairer than ever beneath the protecting hood, drawn up as the night air grew chill. Whether similar sense of strangeness and timidity rested upon her, I could not determine, yet I believed her thoughts so far away that our present surroundings were no more to her than the vaguest dream. She scarcely stirred during all the hours I watched her; only once did she glance up, to smile as she met my eyes before I could withdraw them from her face. Had she read aright their message, perchance this story might never have been written; yet purer, truer love no man ever gave to woman. We must have continued thus, pulling silently, for hours before De Noyan broke the oppressive silence with impatient speech. Indeed, not the least impressive feature of the grewsome night was his continued stillness.

"_Le Diable_!" he exclaimed uneasily, s.h.i.+fting in his seat. "If the Styx be more gloomy than this accursed stream, then Jesu pity its voyagers. Never have I put in so miserable a night, to say nothing of a strained back, and a pair of sore hands. What are those black, crawling things yonder? _Mon Dieu_! I have seen a thousand hideous demons since we left the cane."

I glanced across my shoulder in the direction he pointed, glad enough to hear once again the sound of a voice.

"Only the fire-seared branch of a tree tossed on the current--the night rests heavily upon your nerves."