CHAPTER XIII.
The Faithful Negro.
"Wal, now, I'll be dog-gone, but you are lively on your legs, for alittle one," exclaimed the rebel, with a laugh. "But you're a safeYank now."
"Not yet, I ain't," answered Frank. "I want you to understand thatit's my principle never to surrender without a fight;" and, suddenlyexerting all his strength, he tore himself away from his captor,leaving part of his collar in his grasp.
The rebel was taken completely by surprise, for he had supposed thatFrank would surrender without a struggle; but the latter brought hismusket to a charge bayonet, in a way that showed he was in earnest.The rebel was the better armed, carrying a neat sporting rifle, towhich was attached a long, sharp saber-bayonet. Frank noticed thisdifference, but resolutely stood his ground, and, as he was veryexpert in the bayonet exercise, and as his enemy appeared to be butvery little his superior in strength and agility, he had no fear as tothe result of the conflict.
At length the rebel, after eyeing his youthful antagonist for amoment, commenced maneuvering slowly, intending, if possible, to drawhim out. But Frank stood entirely on the defensive; failing in thismode of attack, the rebel began to grow excited, and became quickerin his movements. But his efforts were useless, for Frank--althougha little pale, which showed that he knew the struggle must end in thedeath of one or the other of them--did not retreat an inch, but coollyparried every thrust made by his infuriated enemy, with the skill of aveteran. The rebel was again obliged to change his plan of attack, andcommenced by rushing furiously upon Frank, endeavoring to beat downhis guard by mere strength. But this proved his ruin; for Frank methim promptly at all points, and, watching the moment when the rebelcarelessly opened his guard, he sprang forward and buried his bayonetto the hilt in his breast. The thrust was mortal, and the rebel threwhis arms above his head, and sank to the ground without a groan.
"I believe he's done for," said Frank to himself; and he stepped up totake a nearer look at his enemy. There he lay, his pale face upturned,and the blood running from an ugly wound in the region of his heart."I do believe he _is_ dead," repeated Frank, with a shudder, ashe gazed sorrowfully at he work he had done. "But there was noalternative between his death and a long confinement in prison. It wasdone in self-defense;" and he turned to walk away.
Just then the thought struck him that he would take the rebel'sgun; his own was worse than useless, for his cartridges had all beenexpended. So, throwing down his heavy musket, he picked up the riflehis enemy had carried, and, slinging the powder-horn and bullet-pouchover his shoulder, he started off through the woods.
But where should he go? His escape, and the manner in which it wasaccomplished, had doubtless aroused the entire country. The woodsaround him were filled with rebels, and the question was, in whichdirection should he turn to avoid them? After some hesitation, hedetermined to go as directly through the woods, toward the river, aspossible, and, if discovered, trust to his woodcraft and swiftness offoot to save him. With this determination, he shouldered his rifle andwalked rapidly on, taking care, however, to keep a good look-out onall sides, and to make as little noise as possible. All sounds of thepursuit had died away, and the woods were as silent as midnight. Buteven this was a source of fear to Frank; for he knew not what tree orthicket concealed an enemy, nor how soon the stillness would be brokenby the crack of a rifle and the whistle of a hostile bullet.
At length the sun went down, and it began to grow dark; but stillFrank walked on, wishing to get as far away from the scene of thefight as possible. Presently he heard a sound that startled him: itwas the clatter of horses' hoofs, on a hard, well-beaten road. Nearerand nearer came the sound, and, in a few moments, a company of cavalrypassed by, and Frank could distinctly hear them laughing and talkingwith each other.
When they were out of hearing, he paused to deliberate. It was evidentthat he could not travel through those deep woods at night; should hewait until it became dark, and then boldly follow the road, or shouldhe remain where he was until morning? There was one great objectionto the first proposition, and that was his uniform, and the danger hewould run of being captured by the night patrol, which he knew werestationed at intervals along the road. It did not seem possible forhim to remain where he was; for now, that he had partly got overhis excitement, he began to feel the cravings of hunger; in fact,it almost rendered him desperate, and he began to wish that he hadsurrendered without a struggle, or that he had not attempted toescape at all, for, if he were a prisoner, he could probably obtainsufficient food to keep him from starving. But he knew that his timewas too precious to be wasted with such foolish thoughts; besides,when he thought of home and his mother, who had evidently heard of hiscapture, all ideas of surrendering himself vanished, and he feltthat he could endure any thing, even starvation, if he only had theassurance that he would see home once more. But he knew that wishingwould not bring him out of his present difficulty: he must workfor his liberty; do every thing in his power, and leave the rest toProvidence.
He started out again, and determined that his first step should be toreconnoiter the road. No one was in sight; but, about a quarter of amile down the road, on the other side, was a large plantation-house,with its neat negro quarters clustering around it, and lookingaltogether like a little village. He knew that some of the cabins wereinhabited, for he saw the smoke wreathing out of the chimneys; couldhe not go to one of them, and obtain food? He had often heard ofescaped prisoners being fed and sheltered by the negroes; why couldnot he throw himself under their protection? He must have something tosatisfy his hunger; and if he could but gain the woods on the oppositeside of the road, it would require but a few moments to reach thehouse. He determined to try it. Glancing hastily up and down the road,he clutched his rifle desperately, and started. A few rapid stepscarried him across the road; he cleared the fence at a bound, and wasout of sight, in the bushes, in a moment. He immediately started forthe nearest cabin and, in a few moments, came to a stand-still in athicket of bushes just behind it. There was some one in the cabin, forhe could see a light shining through the cracks between the logs; andhe distinctly heard the music of a violin, and a voice singing:
"The sun shines bright in my ole Kentucky home"--
But still he hesitated to advance; his courage had failed him. What,if the negro--for he was certain it was a negro in the cabin--shouldbetray him? What if--His reverie was suddenly interrupted by theapproach of a horseman on the road. Presently a rebel officer rodeleisurely by. When he arrived opposite the house, a man, who wassitting on the portico, and whom Frank had not noticed, hailed thehorseman, who drew in his rein, and stopped.
"Have you caught them all yet?" inquired the man on the portico.
"No," answered the officer; "not yet. One of them gave us the slip; alittle fellow; belongs to the gun-boats. He's around here somewhere;but we'll have him to-morrow, for he can't escape. If he comes aroundhere, and you think there is any chance to take him alive, just senddown to the Forks for us. If not, you had better shoot him. I wouldn'tadvise you to meddle with him much, however, for he's a dead shot, andfights like a cuss."
"Did he kill any of the boys?" asked the man on the portico.
"Yes; he killed Bill Richards, who was on guard at the time heescaped, and stole his musket and cartridge-box. I suppose you heardof that. And then, when we got after him, he ran through the woodslike a deer, loading his gun as he went, and every time he turnedaround, somebody had to drop. Finally, old Squire Davis's son overtookhim, and they had a regular hand-to-hand fight; but the little one, asusual, came out at the top of the heap."
"Did he kill young Davis?"
"Yes, as dead as a smelt; stuck a bayonet clean through his heart. ButI must be going. Keep an eye out for him!"
"All right," answered the man on the portico; and the horseman rodeoff.
What Frank's feelings were, as he lay there in the bushes, andlistened to this conversation--every word of which he overheard--wewill not attempt to say. But it showed him that
his enemies fearedhim, and dreaded to meet him single-handed; and that, if he wereretaken, his life would not be worth a moment's purchase. He had allalong been perfectly aware that his case was desperate, and that hehad undertaken something at which many a person, with twice his yearsand experience, would have hesitated. His condition seemed utterlyhopeless. He had never before realized his danger, or what would behis fate if he were captured; but now all the difficulties before himseemed to stand out in bold relief. Yet this knowledge did not actupon him as with some persons; it only nerved him for yet greaterexertions, and with a determination to brave every danger before him.
When the horseman had disappeared, and the man on the portico hadreturned to his seat, Frank again turned his attention to the cabin.After putting a new cap on his rifle, he threw it into the hollow ofhis arm, and crawled noiselessly out of his place of concealment.When he reached the cabin, he raised to his feet, boldly ascended thesteps, and knocked at the door, intending, if his demand for food wasnot instantly complied with, to take it by force.
"Who dar?" inquired a voice from the inside.
Frank made no reply, but was about to repeat the summons, when thedoor was thrown open, and an old, gray-headed negro woman appearedbefore him. Frank was about to make known his wants, when the woman,who had thrown the door wide open, to allow the light to fall uponhim, exclaimed:
"Why, de Lor' A'mighty bress us! Come in, chile. What is you standin'out dar for? Come in, I tol' you." And Frank was seized by the arm andpulled into the cabin, and the door was closed carefully behind him.
"Stop dat 'ar fiddlin', ole man," continued the woman, addressingherself to an aged negro, who was seated in an easy chair in thechimney corner; "stop dat 'ar fiddlin', an' git up an' give youngmassa dat cheer."
"I don't wish to give you any trouble," said Frank. "I'm not the leastbit tired; but I would like something to eat."
"No trouble 't all, chile," said the old woman. "Now, don't you gotalkin' 'bout trouble, I knows who you is. Set down dar." And the oldwoman pointed to the chair which the man had vacated. "I'll give yousomethin' to eat, right away. Pomp, ole man, git up an' cut someo' dat ham;" and the woman bustled about in a state of considerableexcitement.
Frank hid his rifle behind a coat which hung in one corner of thecabin, and was about to take possession of the chair, when hasty stepswere heard on the walk leading to the cabin.
"Gorry mighty!" exclaimed the old negro, in alarm, "dar come deoberseer. Git under the bed--quick, young massa. You'll be safedar--quick."
Frank had hardly time to act upon this suggestion, when the doorsuddenly opened, and a shaggy head appeared.
"Haven't you had your supper yet, Pomp, you black rascal?" inquiredthe overseer, witnessing the preparations for cooking that were goingon.
"I's only been home a few minutes, massa," answered Pomp.
"Well, hurry up, then. I came here," continued the overseer, "to tellyou that there is a Yankee prowling around here somewhere; if he comeshere, I want you to send for me. Do you understand?"
"Yes, massa," answered Pomp.
"Don't you feed him, or do any thing else for him," continued theoverseer. "If you do, I'll whip you to death. Now, mind what I tellyou." And the overseer closed the door, and departed, to carry thesame information and warning to the other cabins.
As soon as the sound of his footsteps had died away, Pomp whispered:
"All right now, young massa. You can come out now--no danger. Theoberseer won't come to dis house g'in dis night."
Frank, accordingly, crawled out from under the bed, and seated himselfin the easy chair, while the old woman went on with her cooking. Ina few minutes, which seemed an age to Frank, however, the meal, whichconsisted of coffee, made of parched corn, ham, honey, and corn-bread,was ready. Frank thought he had never eaten so good a meal before. Heforgot the danger of his situation, and listened to the conversationof the old negro and his wife, as though there was not a rebel withina hundred miles of him.
"There," he exclaimed, after he had finished the last piece ofcorn-bread, and pushed his chair back from the table, "I believe I'veeaten supper enough to satisfy any two men living."
"Has yer had enough, chile?" asked the old woman. "I's glad to see yereat. I wants to do all I can for you Yankee sogers."
"Oh, I've had a great plenty, aunty," answered Frank, as he rose fromthe table. "Now, I must bid you good-by," he continued, as he pulledhis rifle out from its hiding-place. "I shall never be able to repayyou; but"--
"Lor' A'mighty, chile!" interrupted the old woman, "whar's you gwine?You mustn't say one word 'bout gwine out o' dis house _dis_ night.I's got a bed all fixed for you, an' Pomp will take you up early in demornin', an' show you de way fru de swamp."
"Put away dat gun, young massa," chimed in Pomp; "dere's no danger."
Frank could not resist this appeal, for the bed, which the old womanhad made for him in one corner of the cabin, rough as it was, was apleasant sight to his eyes. So, after hiding his rifle under one ofthe quilts, where he could get his hand upon it at a moment's warning,he threw himself upon the bed without removing his clothes, and wasfast asleep in a moment. It seemed to him that he had hardly closedhis eyes, when a hand was laid on his shoulder, and Pomp's voicewhispered in his ear:
"Wake up, young massa; 'most daylight."
"You sleep mighty sound, chile," said the old woman, as Frank rosefrom the bed. "I's sorry to be 'bilged to 'sturb you, but you mustbe gwine now. Here's a little bite for you to eat." As she spoke,she handed Frank a haversack, such as he had often seen used by thesoldiers of the rebel army, filled with corn-bread and cold ham. Frankslung it over his shoulder, and, after pulling his rifle out fromunder the bed, said:
"Aunty, I thank you for your kindness to"--
"Lor' A'mighty, chile!" interrupted the woman, "don't say one word'bout dat, I tol' you. I's sorry we can't do more for you; but youmust go away now. May de good Lor' bress you."
The tears rolled down the old woman's cheeks as she said this,and Frank silently shook her hand, and followed Pomp out into thedarkness.
Frank on a Gun-Boat Page 13