With Lee in Virginia: A Story of the American Civil War

by G. A. Henty

  CHAPTER IV.

  SAFELY BACK.

  When the ship came within a few hundred yards, Vincent stood up andwaved his cap, and a minute later the ship was brought up into the windand her sails thrown aback. The captain appeared at the side and shoutedto the boat, now but fifty yards away.

  "What do you want, there?"

  "I have a passenger for England," Vincent replied. "Will you take him?"

  "Come alongside," the captain said. "Why didn't he come on board beforeI started?"

  The boat was rowed alongside, and Vincent climbed on board. The captaingreeted him as a stranger and led the way to his cabin.

  "You have managed that well," he said, when they were alone, "and I amheartily glad that you have succeeded. I made you out two hours ago. Wewill stop here another two or three minutes, so that the men may thinkyou are bargaining for a passage for the negro, and then the sooner heis on board and you are on your way back the better, for the wind isrising, and I fancy it is going to blow a good deal harder beforenight."

  "And won't you let me pay for the man's passage, captain? It is onlyfair, anyhow, that I should pay for what he will eat."

  "Oh, nonsense!" the captain replied. "He will make himself useful, andpay for his keep. I am only too glad to get the poor fellow off. Now, wewill have a glass of wine together and then say good-by."

  Two minutes later they returned to the deck. Vincent went to the side.

  "Jump on board, Tony. I have arranged for your passage." The negroclimbed up the side.

  "Good-by, captain, and thank you heartily. Good-by, Tony."

  The negro could not speak, but seized the hand Vincent held out to himand pressed it to his lips. Vincent dropped lightly into his boat andpushed off from the side of the vessel. As he did so he heard ordersshouted, the yards swung round, and the vessel almost at once began tomove through the water.

  "Now, Dan, up with the mast and sail again; but let me put two reefs infirst, the wind is getting up."

  In five minutes the sail was hoisted, and with Vincent at the helm andDan sitting up to windward, was dashing through the water. AlthoughVincent understood the management of a sailing-boat on the calm watersof the rivers, this was his first experience of sea-sailing; andalthough the waves were still but small, he felt somewhat nervous as theboat dashed through them, sending up at times a sheet of spray from herbows. But he soon got over this sensation, and enjoyed the lively motionand fresh wind. The higher points of the land were still visible; buteven had they not been so it would have mattered little, as he had takenthe precaution to bring with him a small pocket-compass. The wind wasfrom the southwest, and he was therefore able, with the sheet hauled in,to make for a point where he judged the mouth of the York River lay.

  "Golly, massa! how de boat do jump up and down."

  "She is lively, Dan, and it would be just as well if we had some ballaston board; however, she has a good beam and walks along splendidly. Ifthe wind keeps as it is, we shall be back at the mouth of the York inthree or four hours. You may as well open that basket again and hand methat cold chicken and a piece of bread; cut the meat off the bones andput it on the bread, for I have only one hand disengaged, and hand methat bottle of cold tea. That's right. Now you had better take somethingyourself. You must be hungry. We forgot all about the basket in ourinterest in the ship."

  Dan shook his head.

  "A little while ago, massa, me seem bery hungry, now me doesn't feelhungry at all."

  "That's bad, Dan. I am afraid you are going to be seasick."

  "Me no feel seasick, massa; only me don't feel hungry."

  But in a few minutes Dan was forced to confess that he did feel ill, anda few moments afterward was groaning in the agonies of seasickness.

  "Never mind, Dan," Vincent said cheerfully. "You will be better afterthis."

  "Me not seasick, massa; de sea have nuffin to do with it. It's de boatdat will jump up and down instead of going quiet."

  "It's all the same thing, Dan; and I hope she won't jump about morebefore we get into the river."

  But in another half hour Vincent had to bring the boat's head up to thewind, lower the lug, and tie down the last reef.

  "There she goes easier now, Dan," he said, as the boat resumed hercourse; but Dan, who was leaning helplessly over the side of the boat,could see no difference.

  Vincent, however, felt that under close sail the boat was doing better,and rising more easily on the waves which were now higher and fartherapart than before. In another hour the whole of the shore-line wasvisible; but the wind had risen so much that, even under her reducedsail, the boat had as much as she could carry, and often heeled overuntil her gunwale was nearly under water. Another hour and the shore wasbut some four miles away, but Vincent felt he could no longer hold on.

  In the hands of an experienced sailor, who would have humored the boatand eased her up a little to meet the seas, the entrance to the YorkRiver could no doubt have been reached with safety; but Vincent wasignorant of the art of sailing a boat in the sea, and she was shippingwater heavily. Dan had for some time been baling, having only undertakenthe work in obedience to Vincent's angry orders, being too ill to caremuch what became of them.

  "Now, Dan, I am going to bring her head up to the wind, so get ready tothrow off that halyard and gather in the sail as it comes down. That'sright, man, now down with the mast."

  Vincent had read that the best plan, when caught in an open boat in agale, was to tie the oars and mast, if she had one, together, and tothrow them overboard with the head rope tied to them, as by this meansthe boat would ride head to sea. The oars, sculls, mast, and sail werefirmly tied together and launched overboard, the rope being first takenoff the anchor and tied round the middle of the clump of spars.

  Vincent carefully payed out the rope till some fifteen yards were over,then he fastened it to the ring of the head rope, and had thesatisfaction of finding that the boat rode easily to the floatinganchor, rising lightly over the waves, and not shipping a drop of water.He then took the baler and got rid of the water that had found its wayon board, Dan, after getting down the sail, having collapsed utterly.

  "Now, Dan, sit up; there, man, the motion is much easier now, and we aretaking no water on board. I will give you a glass of rum, that will putnew strength into you. It's lucky we put it in the basket in case ofemergency."

  The negro, whose teeth were chattering from cold, fright, andexhaustion, eagerly drank off the spirit. Vincent, who was wet to theskin with the spray, took a little himself, and then settled himself ascomfortably as he could on the floorboards in the stern of the boat, andquietly thought out the position. The wind was still rising, and a thickhaze obscured the land. He had no doubt that by night it would beblowing a gale; but the boat rode so easily and lightly that he believedshe would get through it.

  They might, it was true, be blown many miles off the shore, and not beable to get back for some time, for the gale might last two or threedays. The basket of provisions was, however, a large one. Dan hadreceived orders to bring plenty and had obeyed them literally, andVincent saw that the supply of food, if carefully husbanded, would lastwithout difficulty for a week. The supply of liquid was lesssatisfactory. There was a bottle of rum, and a two-gallon jar, nearlyhalf empty, of water. The cold tea was finished.

  "That would be a poor supply for a week for two of us," Vincentmuttered, as he removed the contents of the basket and stored themcarefully in the locker; "however, if it's going to be a gale there issure to be some rain with it, so I think we shall manage very well."

  By night it was blowing real heavily, but although the waves were highthe boat shipped but little water. Dan had fallen off to sleep, andVincent had been glad to wrap himself in the thick coat he had broughtwith him as a protection against the heavy dews when sleeping on theriver. At times sharp rain squalls burst upon them, and Vincent had nodifficulty in filling up the water-bottle again with the baler.

  The water was rather brackish, but not sufficiently
so to be ofconsequence. All night the boat was tossed heavily on the waves. Vincentdozed off at times, rousing himself occasionally and baling out thewater, which came in the shape of spray and rain. The prospect in themorning was not cheering. Gray clouds covered the sky and seemed to comedown almost on to the water, the angry sea was crested with white heads,and it seemed to Vincent wonderful that the boat should live in such asea.

  "Now, Dan, wake yourself up and get some breakfast," Vincent said,stirring up the negro with his foot.

  "Oh, Lor!" Dan groaned, raising himself into a sitting position from thebottom of the boat, "dis am awful; we neber see the shore no more,massa."

  "Nonsense, man," Vincent said cheerily; "we are getting on capitally."

  "It hab been an awful night, sah."

  "An awful night! You lazy rascal, you slept like a pig all night, whileI have been baling the boat and looking out for you. It is your turnnow, I can tell you. Well, do you feel ready for your breakfast?"

  Dan, after a moment's consideration, declared that he was. The feelingof seasickness had passed off, and except that he was wet through andmiserable, he felt himself again, and could have eaten four times theallowance of food that Vincent handed him. A pannikin of rum and waterdid much to restore his life and vitality, and he was soon, with thelight-heartedness of his race, laughing and chatting cheerfully.

  "How long dis go on, you tink, sah?"

  "Not long, I hope, Dan. I was afraid last night it was going to be a biggale, but I do not think it is blowing so hard now as it was in thenight."

  "Where have we got to now, sah?"

  "I don't exactly know, Dan; but I do not suppose that we are very manymiles away from shore. The mast and oars prevent our drifting fast, andI don't think we are further off now than we were when we left that shipyesterday. But even if we were four or five times as far as that, weshould not take very long in sailing back again when the wind drops; andas we have got enough to eat for a week we need not be uncomfortableabout that."

  "Not much food for a week, Massa Vincent."

  "Not a great deal, Dan; but quite enough to keep us going. You can makeup for lost time when you get to shore again."

  In a few hours it was certain that the wind was going down. By middaythe clouds began to break up, and an hour later the sun was shiningbrightly. The wind was still blowing strongly, but the sea had a verydifferent appearance in the bright light of the sun to that which it hadborne under the canopy of dark gray clouds. Standing up in the boat twohours later, Vincent could see no signs of land.

  "How shall we find our way back, Marse Vincent?"

  "We have got a compass; besides, we should manage very well even if wehad not. Look at the sun, Dan. There it is right ahead of us. So, youknow that's the west--that's the way we have to go."

  "That very useful ob de sun, sah; but suppose we not live in de west desun not point de way den."

  "Oh, yes, he would, just the same, Dan. We should know whether to goaway from him, or to keep him on the right hand or on the left."

  This was beyond Dan. "And I s'pose the moon will show de way at night,massa?"

  "The moon would show the way if she were up, but she is not always up;but I have got a compass here, and so whether we have the sun or themoon, or neither of them, I can find my way back to land."

  Dan had never seen a compass, and for an hour amused himself turning itround and round and trying to get it to point in some other directionthan the north.

  "Now, Dan," Vincent said at last, "give me that compass, and get out thefood. We will have a better meal than we did this morning, for now thatthe wind is going down there's no chance of food running short. When wehave had dinner we will get up the sail again. The sea is not so roughas it was, and it is certainly not so high as it was before we loweredthe sail yesterday."

  "De waves bery big, massa."

  "They are big, Dan; but they are not so angry. The heads are notbreaking over as they did last night, and the boat will go better overthese long waves than she did through the choppy sea at the beginning ofthe gale."

  Accordingly the bundle of spars was pulled up alongside and lifted. Themast was set up and the sail hoisted. Dan in a few minutes forgot hisfears and lost even his sense of uneasiness as he found the boat mountedwave after wave without shipping water. Several times, indeed, a showerof spray flew high up in the air, but the gusts no longer buried her sothat the water came over the gunwale, and it was a long time beforethere was any occasion to use the baler. As the sun set it could be seenthat there was a dark line between it and the water.

  "There is the land, Dan; and I do not suppose it is more than twentymiles away, for most of the coast lies low."

  "But how we find de York River, massa? Will de compass tell you dat?"

  "No, Dan. I don't know whether we have drifted north or south of it. Atordinary times the current runs up the coast, but the wind this morningwas blowing from the north of west, and may have been doing so allthrough the night for anything I know. Well, the great thing is to makeland. We are almost sure to come across some fishing boats, but, if not,we must run ashore and find a house."

  They continued sailing until Vincent's watch told him it was twelveo'clock, by which time the coast was quite close. The wind now almostdropped, and, lowering their sail, they rowed in until, on lowering theanchor, they found that it touched the ground. Then they lay down andslept till morning. Dan was the first to waken.

  "Dar are some houses dere close down by the shore, sah, and some mengetting out a boat."

  "That's all right, Dan," Vincent said, as he roused himself and lookedover. "We shall learn soon where we are."

  In a quarter of an hour the fishing boat put off, and the lads at oncerowed to it.

  "How far are we from the mouth of the York River?" Vincent asked the twonegroes on board.

  "About twenty miles, sah. Where you come from?"

  "We were off the mouth of the river, and were blown off in the gale."

  "You tink yourself bery lucky you get back," one of them said. "Beryfoolish to go out like dat when not know how to get back."

  "Well, we have managed to get back now, you see, and none the worse forit. Now, Dan, up with the sail again."

  There was a light wind offshore, and all the reefs being shaken out theboat ran along fast.

  "I should think we are going about five miles an hour, Dan. We ought tobe off the mouth of the river in four hours. We must look out sharp orelse we shall pass it, for many of these islets look just like the mouthof the river. However, we are pretty sure to pass several fishing boatson our way, and we shall be able to inquire from them."

  There was no need, however, to do this. It was just four hours from thetime of starting when they saw some eight or ten fishing boats ahead ofthem.

  "I expect that that is the entrance to the river. When we get half amile further we shall see it open."

  On approaching the fishing boats they recognized at once the appearanceof the shore, as they had noticed it when fishing there before, and weresoon in the entrance to the river.

  "It will be high tide in about two hours," Vincent said, "according tothe time it was the other day. I am afraid when it turns we shall haveto get down our sails; there will be no beating against both wind andtide. Then we must get out oars and row. There is very little tide closein by the bank, and every little gain will be a help. We have been outfour days. It is Thursday now, and they will be beginning to get veryanxious at home, so we must do our best to get back."

  Keeping close under the bank, they rowed steadily, making on an averageabout two miles an hour. After five hours' rowing they tied up to thebank, had a meal, and rested until tide turned; then they again hoistedtheir sail and proceeded on their way. Tide carried them just up to thejunction of the two rivers, and landing at Cumberland they procured bedsand slept till morning.

  Another long day's work took them up to the plantation of Mr. Furniss,and fastening up the boat, and carrying the sails and oars on shore,
they started on their walk home.

  "Why, Vincent, where have you been all this time?" Mrs. Wingfield saidas her son entered. "You said you might be away a couple of nights, andwe expected you back on Wednesday at the latest, and now it is Fridayevening."

  "Well, mother, we have had great fun. We went sailing about right downto the mouth of the York River. I did not calculate that it would takeme more than twice as long to get back as to get down; but as the windblew right down the river it was precious slow work, and we had to rowall the way. However, it has been a jolly trip, and I feel a lot betterfor it."

  "You don't look any better for it," Annie said. "The skin is all offyour face, and you are as red as fire. Your clothes look shrunk as wellas horribly dirty. You are quite an object, Vincent."

  "We got caught in a heavy gale," Vincent said, "and got a thoroughducking. As to my face, a day or two will set it all to rights again;and so they will my hands, I hope, for I have got nicely blisteredtugging at those oars. And now, mother, I want some supper, for I am ashungry as a hunter. I told Dan to go into the kitchen and get a goodsquare meal."

  The next morning, just after breakfast, there was the sound of horses'hoofs outside the house, and, looking out, Vincent saw Mr. Jackson, witha man he knew to be the sheriff, and four or five others. A minute laterone of the servants came in, and said that the sheriff wished to speakto Mrs. Wingfield.

  "I will go out to him," Mrs. Wingfield replied. Vincent followed her tothe door.

  "Mrs. Wingfield," the sheriff said, "I am the holder of a warrant tosearch your slave-huts and grounds for a runaway negro named AnthonyMoore, the property of Mr. Jackson here."

  "Do you suppose, sir," Mrs. Wingfield asked angrily, "that I am the sortof person to give shelter to runaway slaves?"

  "No, madam, certainly not," the sheriff replied; "no one would supposefor a moment that Mrs. Wingfield of the Orangery would have anything todo with a runaway, but Mr. Jackson here learned only yesterday that thewife of this slave was here and everyone knows that where the wife isthe husband is not likely to be far off."

  "I suppose, sir," Mrs. Wingfield said coldly, "that there was nonecessity for me to acquaint Mr. Jackson formally with the fact that Ihad purchased through my agent the woman he sold to separate her fromher husband."

  "By no means, madam, by no means; though, had we known it before, itmight have been some aid to us in our search. Have we your permission tosee this woman and to question her?"

  "Certainly not," Mrs. Wingfield said; "but if you have any question toask I will ask her and give you her answer."

  "We want to know whether she has seen her husband since the day of hisflight from the plantation."

  "I shall certainly not ask her that question, Mr. Sheriff. I have nodoubt that, as the place from which he has escaped is only a few milesfrom here, he did come to see his wife. It would have been very strangeif he did not. I hope that by this time the man is hundreds of milesaway. He was brutally treated by a brutal master, who, I believe,deliberately set to work to make him run away, so that he could hunt himdown and punish him. I presume, sir, you do not wish to search thishouse, and you do not suppose that the man is hidden here. As to theslave-huts and the plantation, you can, of course, search themthoroughly; but as it is now more than a fortnight since the manescaped, it is not likely you will find him hiding within a few miles ofhis master's plantation."

  So saying, she went into the house and shut the door behind her.

  Mr. Jackson ground his teeth with rage, but the sheriff rode off towardthe slave-huts without a word. The position of Mrs. Wingfield of theOrangery, connected as she was with half the old families of Virginia,and herself a large slave-owner, was beyond suspicion, and no one wouldventure to suggest that such a lady could have the smallest sympathy fora runaway slave.

  "She was down upon you pretty hot, Mr. Jackson," the sheriff said asthey rode off. "You don't seem to be in her good books." Jacksonmuttered an imprecation.

  "It is certainly odd," the sheriff went on, "after what you were tellingme about her son pitching into Andrew over flogging this very slave,that she should go and buy his wife. Still, that's a very differentthing from hiding a runaway. I dare say that, as she says, the fellowcame here to see his wife when he first ran away; but I don't think youwill find him anywhere about here now. It's pretty certain from what wehear that he hasn't made for the North, and where the fellow can behiding I can't think. Still the woods about this country are mighty big,and the fellow can go out on the farms and pick corn and keep himselfgoing for a long time. But he's sure to be brought up, sooner or later."

  A thorough search was made of the slave-huts, and the slaves wereclosely questioned, but all denied any knowledge of the runaway. Danescaped questioning, as he had taken up Vincent's horse to the house inreadiness for him to start as soon as he had finished breakfast.

  All day the searchers rode about the plantation, examining every clumpof bushes, and assuring themselves that none of them had been used as aplace of refuge for the runaway.

  "It's no good, Mr. Jackson," the sheriff said at last. "The man may havebeen here; he aint here now. The only place we haven't searched is thehouse, and you may be quite sure the slaves dare not conceal him there.Too many would get to know it. No, sir, he's made a bolt of it, and youwill have to wait now till he is caught by chance, or shot by somefarmer or other in the act of stealing."

  "I would lay a thousand dollars," Andrew Jackson exclaimedpassionately, "that young Wingfield knows something about hiswhereabouts, and has lent him a hand!"

  "Well, I should advise you to keep your mouth shut about it till you getsome positive proof," the sheriff said dryly. "I tell you it's no joketo accuse a member of a family like the Wingfields of helping runawayslaves to escape."

  "I will bide my time," the planter said. "You said that some day youwould lay hands on Tony, dead or alive. You see if some day I don't layhands on young Wingfield."

  "Well, it seems, Mr. Jackson," the sheriff remarked with a sneer, for hewas out of temper at the ill success of the day's work, "that he hasalready laid hands on your son. It seems to me quite as likely that hewill lay hands on you as you on him."

  Two days afterward, as Vincent was riding through the streets ofRichmond he saw to his surprise Andrew Jackson in close conversationwith Jonas Pearson.

  "I wonder what those two fellows are talking about!" he said to himself."I expect Jackson is trying to pump Pearson as to the doings at theOrangery. I don't like that fellow, and never shall, and he's just thesort of man to do one a bad turn if he had the chance. However, as Ihave never spoken to him about that affair from beginning to end, Idon't see that he can do any mischief if he wants to."

  Andrew Jackson, however, had obtained information which he consideredvaluable. He learned that Vincent had been away in a boat for five days,and that his mother had been very uneasy about him. He also learned thatthe boat was one belonging to Mr. Furniss, and that it was only quitelately that Vincent had taken to going out sailing.

  After considerable trouble he succeeded in getting at one of the slavesupon Mr. Furniss' plantation. But he could only learn from him thatVincent had been unaccompanied, when he went out in the boat, either byyoung Furniss or by any of the plantation hands; that he had taken withhim only his own slave, and had come and gone as he chose, taking outand fastening up the boat himself, so that no one could say when he hadgone out, except that his horse was put up at the stables. The slavesaid that certainly the horse had only stood there on two or threeoccasions, and then only for a few hours, and that unless Mr. Wingfieldhad walked over he could never have had the boat out all night, as thehorse certainly had not stood all night in the stables.

  Andrew Jackson talked the matter over with his son, and both agreed thatVincent's conduct was suspicious. His own people said he had been awayfor five days in the boat. The people at Furniss' knew nothing aboutthis, and therefore there must be some mystery about it, and theydoubted not that that mystery was connected with
the runaway slave, andthey guessed that he had either taken Tony and landed him near the mouthof the York River on the northern shore, or that he had put him on boarda ship. They agreed, however, that whatever their suspicions, they hadnot sufficient grounds for openly accusing Vincent of aiding theirrunaway.