Chapter XV: Unsociable Companions

Slow as was our progress, it was made slower by the eccentric action of our steersman--who, for the first six hours, was the second officer of the boat--Mr. Stinger. Instead of keeping in the current, he appeared desirous of shunning it, now hugging one shore, now shooting across and holding for a time to the other.

About five miles below the plantation we had left, he brought to against the bank, Black leaping ashore and making the hawser fast around a tree. There was no appearance of a landing, nor settlement of any kind--nothing but the wild woods.

After a whispered communication with his steersman, but without a word to me, the captain of the craft disappeared among the palmettoes, leaving his crew to the tender mercies of the musketoes.

He was absent about two hours. When he returned, and the flat was once more set free, the steersman resumed his old style of seesawing from side to side, and keeping carefully out of the current.

It might be from prudence at that particular part of the river; "snags," invisible to my inexperienced eye, might be the cause of this crooked navigation.

I could not think so; but, from the relations that existed between us, I was hindered from making inquiry, either as to that, or why Mr. Black had so long absented himself.

I addressed myself to one of the negroes, whom I remembered having seen upon the Tennessee plantation. But the darky seemed to know no more than myself. He replied, with a puzzled expression:

"Doan' no why Mass' Stinger am a-toatin' de ole boat 'bout so; I 'pose he hab some reezan. Maybe dar's danger 'bout hyar 'mong de snags an' de sawyers."

My own explanation was different, though, as afterward proved, not any nearer the truth. I fancied that Mr. Black had made up his mind to punish me for forcing my company upon him. He would do it by making these delays and _detours_, and so playing upon my patience, drive me ashore, at Natchez, Point Coupee, or some other stopping-place for steamboats.

Had this been his design, it would have succeeded. Long before night I had become sick both of my company and quarters, and intended to escape from them at the very first landing, where I might wait for some down-river steamboat.

Indeed, the thought had been in my mind at the moment of embarking. I did not declare it, as I knew it would humiliate my late host to think that the brute Black had beaten us. Now that I was alone, there was no reason why I should continue to endure the inconvenience of such a voyage. By going ashore at Natchez, I could put an end to it, and the Woodleys need be none the wiser.

All through the afternoon the zigzagging continued, and I think we must have crossed and recrossed about a score of times. It seemed a slow way of carrying Squire Woodley's cotton crop to its destination. At the rate we were progressing, it would be midwinter before our craft touched the levee of New Orleans.

When the sun set, we were not ten miles below the place of my embarkation. I conjectured this from not having seen the island where we had shot the eagle; though it was possible we might have passed without my recognizing it.

During the daylight I had contrived to kill time with my gun. Waterfowl were constantly flushing up before the boat, and land-birds flying across the river, and I amused myself by shooting them.

Now it was an osprey soaring above the stream; now a white egret or a blue heron perched upon the point of some sand-bar, or sailing along upon a drift-log.

Once I got a shot at the great Mississippi crane, and brought the bird down upon the water; but as the uncivil skipper would not allow his skiff to retrieve it, I had to lose my game.

The shooting, however, proved excellent sport. Indeed, it was partly in expectation of this I had first thought of making such a voyage.

When night came on I could not continue it; and I was forced to think of some other resource for destroying time.

There was no other. Conversation with such a crew was out of the question, and I was without books--even had it been possible to read them by the light of a dull tallow dip that burned in the hole called "caboose." I could not endure to stay in this noisome hole, in the company of four chattering negroes, who for some reason had been ordered to remain below. The two white men kept to the roof; and thither I repaired, intending to spend at least a portion of the night in the open air.

Though the day had been one of the hottest, it was now cool enough for heavy covering--the chill air of the swamp sweeping along the surface of the stream.

Unpacking my cloak I threw it over my shoulders and closed the clasp. There was sufficient breeze to make this precaution necessary. Then igniting a cigar, I commenced pacing to and fro over the rounded roof of the ark.

I soon discovered there was not much comfort in this. The night was dark, the planking uneven, and I was in danger of stumbling overboard.

I stopped, and taking stand near the edge, bent my eyes over the broad stream, watching the fire-flies as they flitted like sparks along the wooded shore, whose outlines I could barely trace through the darkness.

For a time I found distraction for my thoughts in listening to the many voices of Nature, sonorous around me. From the bank I could hear the barking of the wolf, and once or twice a catlike call which I supposed to be the cougar.

But the night-birds were more noisy, and rising above the constant "skirl" of the crickets, I could distinguish the trumpet-like note of the wild swan, the "honk" of the gander, and the plaintive call of the bull-bat.

For a long time I stood listening to these mingled voices--the psalmody of Nature. There were no human sounds to hinder me from hearing them. The four negroes were below, and the two white men upon the deck were silent as specters. I could see them standing together by the shaft of the long steering-oar, which, resting upon its pivot, traversed the boat longitudinally, reaching almost from stem to stern. They appeared to converse, but in a tone so low I could not hear what they were saying.

I had placed myself as far as possible from them, having no wish to court the companionship of such an unsocial couple.

Though carried on in whispers, I noticed that their conversation was of an earnest kind. I could tell this by their attitudes. Was it about me?

Despite the obscurity that surrounded them, I could see that their faces were turned toward me. I knew that they were chafed at my having come aboard against their will, though for what reason I was still unable to guess.

Beyond the incivility which they had already shown in every possible way, I expected nothing more. It seemed too ridiculous to apprehend danger.

And yet, at that moment, something of the kind stole into my thoughts. I had heard enough of these Mississippi boatmen to believe them capable of any thing--even of committing murder.

But why should these men murder me? My baggage was not big enough; and they had no reason to believe I carried money upon my person, in a sum sufficient to tempt them to such a crime.

Besides, there were the negroes, Squire Woodley's own slaves; such an attempt could not be made without their knowing of it. The thought was preposterous; and I dismissed it from my mind as soon as conceived.

And still I could not make out why the two were talking so earnestly. Their gestures, too, which I could just discern through the dim light, admonished me that some strange circumstance was being discussed between them. It could not be the guiding of the boat. Ever since nightfall they had ceased "quartering" the stream. The steering-oar was at rest, and the flat was gliding smoothly on, at the rate of four miles to the hour--the current at this place being unusually rapid. It could not be that.

By this time my cigar had nearly burnt out. Groping for another, I discovered I had left my case in the cabin. In going to get it, I passed close to where the two men were standing. Black had hold of the oar-handle, while Stinger was lounging at his elbow.

I had the cigar-stump still in my teeth--the remains of a good Havana, with a red coal at the end of it. I was curious to have a look at the fellows; and passing close to them, I increased the luminosity of the cigar by giving it a strong puff or two.

Never had such a faint light shone upon two more ill-favored faces. Both appeared distorted by some passion of a criminal kind; and, could I have imagined any motive for their murdering me, I might have believed at that moment, that such was their intention!