CHAPTER VI
TOM UP A TREE--DID THE CONFEDERATE OFFICER SEE HIM?--A FUGITIVE SLAVE GUIDES HIM--BUYING A BOAT IN THE DARK--ADRIFT IN THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY.
At first, Tom was up a tree. When he jumped from the abandonedlocomotive, his mind was working as quickly as his body. He reasonedthat the Confederates would expect them all to run as fast and as faraway as they could; that they would run after them; that they would veryprobably catch him, utterly tired out as he was, so tired that even fearcould not lend wings to his leaden feet; that the pursuit, however,would not last long, because the Confederates would wish to reach astation soon, in order both to report their success and to send out ageneral alarm and so start a general search for the fugitives; and thathe would best hide as near at hand as might be. In other words, hethought, quite correctly, that the best thing to do is exactly what yourenemy does not expect you to do. He picked out a big oak tree quiteclose to the track, its top a mass of thick-set leaves such as aSouthern April brings to a Southern oak. He climbed it, nestled into asheltered crotch high above the ground, and waited. He did not have towait long. He could still hear the noise of his comrades plungingthrough the woods when the Confederate engine drew up beneath his feet.Before it stopped, the armed men who clustered thick upon locomotive andtender were on the ground and running into the woods. A gallant figurein Confederate gray led them. He heard the rush of them, then a shot ortwo, exultant yells, and ere long the tramp of returning feet. They cameback in half a dozen groups, bringing with them three of his comrades inflight, less fortunate than he, at least less fortunate up to that time.Andrews was one of the prisoners. He had slipped and fallen, hadstrained a sinew, and had lain helpless until his pursuers reached him.Tom, peering cautiously through his leafy shelter, saw that his lateleader was limping and was held upright by a kindly Confederate, who hadpassed his arm about him.
"'Tain't fur," said his captor, cheerily, "hyar's the injine."
"The Yank's goin' fur," sneered a soldier of another kind, "he's goin'to Kingdom Cum, blast him!" He lifted his fist to strike the helplessman, but the young officer in command caught the upraised arm.
"None of that," he said, sternly. "Americans don't treat prisoners thatway. You're under arrest. Put down your gun and climb into the tender.Do it now and do it quick." Sulkily the brute obeyed. "Lift him in,"went on the officer to the man who was supporting Andrews. This wasgently done. The other two captives climbed in. So did the Confederates.Their officer turned to them.
"You've done your duty well," he said. "You've been chasing brave men.They've done their duty well too.
"'For such a gallant feat of arms Was never seen before.'"
Tom started with surprise. The young officer was quoting from Macaulay's"Lays of Ancient Rome." The boy had stood beside his mother's knee whenshe read him the "Lays" and had often since read them himself.
That start of surprise had almost been Tom's undoing. He had rustled theleaves about him. A tiny shower of pale green things fell to the ground.
"Captain, there's somebody up that tree," said a soldier, pointingstraight at the point where Tom sat. "I heard him rustle."
The captain looked up. The boy always thought the officer saw him andspared him, partly because of his youth--he knew the fate the prisonersfaced--and partly because of his admiration for "the gallant feat ofarms." Be that as it may, he certainly took no step just then to makeanother prisoner. Instead he laughed and answered:
"That's a 'possum. We haven't time for a coon-hunt just now. Get ahead.We'll send an alarm from the next station and so bag all the Yankees."
The engine, pushing the recaptured one before it, started anddisappeared around the end of the short curve upon which Andrews hadmade his final stop. For the moment at least, Tom was safe. But he knewthe hue-and-cry would sweep the country. Everybody would be on thelookout for stray Yankees. And as everybody would think the estrayswere all going North, Tom decided to go South. He slid down thetree, looked at his watch, studied the sunlight to learn the points ofthe compass, drew his belt tighter to master the hunger that nowassailed him, and so began his southward tramp, a boy, alone, in theenemy's country.
That part of Georgia is a beautiful country and Tom loved beauty, but itdid not appeal to him that afternoon. He was hungry; he was tired; theexcitement that had upheld him through the hours of flight on thecaptured engine was over. He plodded through a little belt of forestand found himself in a broad valley, with a ribbon of water flowingthrough it. He stumbled across plowed fields to the little river. Adusty road, with few marks of travel, meandered beside the stream. Hewas evidently near no main highway. Not far away a planter's home, witha stately portico, gleamed in the sunlight through its screen of trees.In the distance lay a little village. There was food in both places andhe must have food. To which should he go? It was decided for him that hewas to go to neither. As he slipped down the river bank, to quench hisburning thirst and to wash his dusty face and hands, he almost steppedupon a negro who lay full length at the foot of the bank, hidden behinda tree that had been uprooted by the last flood and left stranded there.The boy was scared by the unexpected meeting, but not half as much asthe negro.
"Oh, Massa," said the negro, on his knees with outstretched hands, "don'tell on me, Massa. I'll be your slabe, Massa. Jes' take me with you.Please don't tell on me. You kin make a lot o' money sellin' me, Massa.Please lemme go wid you."
"What is your name?" asked Tom.
"Morris, Massa."
"Where did you come from?"
"From dat house, Massa." He pointed to the big house nearby.
"And what are you doing here?"
Little by little, Morris (reassured when he found Tom was a Northernsoldier and like himself a fugitive) told his story. He had been born onthis plantation. Reared as a house-servant, he could read a little. Hehad learned from the newspapers his master took that a Northern army wasnot far away. He made up his mind to try for freedom. His master keptdogs to track runaways, but no dog can track a scent in running water.It was not probable his flight would be discovered until afternightfall. So he had stolen to his hiding-place in the afternoon,intending to wade down the tiny stream as soon as darkness came. Twomiles below, the stream merged itself into a larger one. There he hopedto steal a boat, hide by day and paddle by night until he reached theTennessee. "Dat ribber's plum full o' Massa Lincum's gunboats," heassured Tom.
"How are you going to live on the journey?" asked the boy.
"I spec' dey's hen-roosts about," quoth Morris with a chuckle, "and I'segot a-plenty to eat to start wid. Dis darkey don' reckon to starvenone."
"Give me something to eat, quick!"
Morris willingly produced cornpone and bacon from a sack beside him. Tomwanted to eat it all, but he knew these precious supplies must be keptas long as possible, so he did not eat more than half of them. The twoagreed to keep together in their flight for freedom. As soon as it wasdark, they began their wading. The two miles seemed an endless distance.The noises of the night kept their senses on the jump. Once a distantbloodhound's bay scared Morris so much that his white teeth clatteredlike castanets. Once the "too-whit-too" of a nearby owl sent Tom into anecstasy of terror. He fairly clung to Morris, who, just ahead of him,was guiding his steps through the shallow water. When he found he hadbeen scared by an owl, he was so ashamed that he forced himself to bebraver thereafter. At last they reached their first goal, the largerriver. Here Morris's knowledge of the ground made him the temporarycommander of the expedition. He knew of a little house nearby, the homeof a "poor white," who earned part of his precarious livelihood byfishing. Morris knew just where he kept his boat. There was no light inthe little house and no sound from it as they crept stealthily along thebank to the tree where the boat was tied. Tom drew his knife to cut therope.
"No, Massa," whispered Morris. "Not dat-a-way. Ef it's cut, dey'll knowit's bin tuck and dey'll s'picion us. Lemme untie it. Den dey'll t'inkit's cum loose and floated away. 'N dey'll not
hurry after it. Dey'llt'ink dey kin fin' it in some cove any time tomorrer."
Morris was right. It did not take him long to untie the clumsy knot.Three oars and some fishing-tackle lay in the flat-bottomed boat. Theygot into it, pushed off, and floated down the current without a sound.Morris steered with an oar at the stern. Once out of earshot, they rowedas fast as the darkness, intensified by the shadows of the overhangingtrees, permitted.
Just before they had pushed off, Tom had asked:
"What is this boat worth, Morris?"
"Old Massa paid five dollars fer a new one jest like it, dis lastestweek."
Tom's conscience had told him that even though a fugitive for his lifein the enemy's country he ought not to take the "poor white's" boatwithout paying for it. He unbuttoned an inside pocket in his shirt anddrew out a precious store of five-dollar gold pieces. There were twentyof them, each wrapped in tissue-paper and the whole then bound togetherin a rouleau, wrapped in water-proofed silk, so that there would be nosound of clinking gold as he walked. He figured that the three oars andthe sorry fishing tackle could not be worth more than the boat was, sohe took out two coins and put them in a battered old pan that lay besidethe stump to which the boat was tied. There the "cracker"--another namefor the "poor white"--would be sure to see them in the morning. As amatter of fact he did. And they were worth so much more than hisvanished property that he was inclined to think an angel, rather than athief, had passed that way. Tom's conscientiousness spoiled Morris'splan of having the owner think the boat had floated away, but the"cracker" was glad to clutch the gold and start no hue-and-cry. He wasafraid that if he recovered his boat, he would have to give up the gold.It was much cheaper to make another. So he kept still.
And still, very still, the fugitives kept as they paddled slowly downthe stream until the first signs of dawn sent them into hiding. Theyhid the boat in the tall reeds that fringed the mouth of a tiny creekand they themselves crept a few yards into the forest, ate very muchless than they wanted to eat of what was left of Morris's scanty storeof food, and went to sleep. They slept until--but that is anotherstory.
Tom Strong, Lincoln's Scout Page 8