“Pap, are you all right?”
He turned his head slow and looked at me and says:
“It warn’t the devil first off.… There was other faces before.…”
“Who was it, Alexander the Great or Christopher Columbus?”
“The Widow Douglas,” he says, just whispering, “and before that … your Ma.…”
“Did she say anything, or just stare?”
“She … she told me it ain’t long now.…”
“What ain’t?”
“Till she sees me … after I’m dead.…”
“That don’t make no kind of sense, Pap. You always reckoned Ma was a good woman that died young on account of you. If she’s like you say then she’s in heaven, and there ain’t no chance of you joining up with her there, not after the sinning life you had. Why, you’ll be so deep in hell she won’t be able to see you even from way up on high. You must of imagined it all out of a bottle.”
“I never … I seen her and heard her too.… I ain’t long for this world.…”
“Well, if it’s true I best get the stove stoked up so’s you can get used to the kind of weather they got down below. I heard tell it’s so hot they fry eggs on their heads, only they ain’t allowed to eat ’em as part of the punishment. Some poor souls down there figure the only relief they can get from the hotness is by jumping in the river of blood, but that’s always on the boil so they don’t get no comfort from it at all, and when they haul theirselfs out demons give them a heap of poking with pitchforks to let them know the mistake they made, then they got to swaller down a bucket of hot coals for supper. It’s a cruelty what they make you do. They got lakes of brimstone full of snapping turtles that’s always hungry, and you got to swim naked, and if that ain’t enough you got to spend ten hours a day stood up to your neck in pits full of maggots that’s plenty hungry too, but no matter how much of you gets snapped off or et all of it grows back again like magic so’s you can do the punishments over and over again forever. Just think, Pap, if you had led a decent life you could of got wings and a harp and flitted from cloud to cloud nice and cool and drunk rainwater out of a gold cup whenever you want. But no such luck, not for you. It’s down to the hot place where the flesh melts off your bones and …”
“Stop!” he yells, and clasps his hands over his ears. “It ain’t right to torture me so! I’m your own Pap that give you life, you danged ungrateful dog! I got respect comin’ to me on account of it, so just you keep hush about hell and damnation!”
“Hell ain’t no more’n you deserve, you murdering coward drunk, and it’s a shame there ain’t no such place, because I’d surely like to know you’re there!”
“Wash your mouth out, boy,” he says. “Ain’t you kept up with your Sunday schoolin’? Don’t you dare doubt there’s a heaven and hell! Why, that’s blasphemy! My own boy that I brung up to be a Christian, a blasphemer.… Ain’t you ashamed? Your Ma would of whaled you with a switch if she could of heard you talk that way.”
“She’s likely inside the jug listening to every word.”
“You little sass-mouth!” he hollers. “Don’t you go funnin’ your own Ma that died young and gentle! I’ll break you in two!…”
He tried to grab me but ain’t got the strength to do no more than flop around on the bed like a stranded fish, and pretty soon he’s puffing for air.
“Whiskey …” he says.
There’s still some left in the turned-over bottle and I give it to him. He drunk it down like it’s mother’s milk and let the bottle drop on the floor again. His scrawny chest heaved in and out frantic then slowed down some, and I reckon he’s right on one thing; he ain’t got long now. I seen dead men that looked healthier than Pap. After awhile he says:
“I wasted it all … every minute and day.… Now it’s too late and my own boy is bound down that same road.”
“Only on account of you, you wore-out bag of bones. I could of stayed in Missouri and not got chased by the law if you hadn’t of done what you done.”
“It warn’t me.… Morg done it, I told you that … and don’t go bad-mouthing your Pap or I’ll tan your hide, you ungrateful pup! I done my best to bring you up right. I could of done it too if it hadn’t of been for liquor. Promise me you won’t ever drink, boy.”
“I promise I’ll drink a jug a day to show how much admiration I got for you, Pap. Every boy wants to be like his old man and I ain’t no different. I reckon I’ll be half dead by the time I’m twenty, and proberly burned down a house or three meantime, but only if they got people inside. I ain’t burning down no houses that’s empty.”
“No … no …” he groans, and tears of whiskey dribbled out his eyes. “You got to be decent and law-abiding.…”
“It’s too late now, Pap. I just hope you’re satisfied.”
“It ain’t my fault,” he blubbers, real pathetic, then the whiskey took ahold of him and he started snoring. I stayed there awhile just looking at him and trying to feel sorry, but I ain’t. He dug his own grave, as they say, and done his best to drag me down into it alongside him. I ain’t in no forgiving mood. I got all squirming and tight inside just recollecting what he put me and Jim through, but when it passed there’s just a hollow place in my belly that don’t feel nothing at all, so I laid a blanket over him and went back to Jim.
A week run along and we robbed two more ships same as before. I never seen Grace or Randolph or no one, not even Pap just down the hall, and him and me give each other plenty of distance when we was robbing and never rode in the same wagon or longboat. It was the miserablest week I ever had, and there’s a whole tribe of blue devils camped on my shoulders all the time.
Jim warn’t none too happy neither, and when we ain’t robbing or sleeping I read him book stories to give us both some cheer. There was one I got and it’s called “The Little Toiler or Virtue Rewarded” by Mrs. Olive Clemence Simpson, and it told how this girl in London lived real poor with her Ma in a house that leaked rain all the time, and her Ma is forever jawing about how she used to live in a big house with servants and such but her wicked brother took it all away with a forged will that left everything to him. So they lived poor as fleas with the mother taking in washing that split her hands open and the girl, Maisie by name, doing sewing for pennies, until one day she finds a purse full of money in the street with an address inside. There’s hundreds of pounds there, which is what dollars is called in England, but this idiot-brain Maisie goes and takes it back to the man that was fool enough to lose it, and he’s mighty impressed with her being so honest and all. When he finds out how poor her and her Ma is he’s real shocked and says he’ll fix things for them, and even invites them to come and live in his house permanent, which they done. The purse-dropper’s a lawyer, and he does some detective work and finds out how to prove the wicked brother forged the will and has him put in jail for it. Meantime Maisie has gone and fell in love with the lawyer’s son called Frederic and it’s plain they’ll get hitched one of these days, so the story ends full of happiness and roses. It give me such a pain I flung it across the room and it fell in pieces, which we burned in the stove.
Then come a night we went out in the boats again and tied up to a schooner called the Antelope. We started robbing the usual way and was already sending up the first boxes when footsteps come pounding along the deck overhead and there’s shouts and thumping. Portiss went up the rope like a monkey and hollered for the rest of us to come up too. When I got my head above deck I seen a heap of men with clubs and knives laying into our bunch and there’s more coming over the sides. Soon as I seen it I give a yelp like I got my skull clubbed and dropped back in the hold and lay still. The rest all swarmed up the rope except Jim.
“You hurt bad, Huck?” he says, all worried.
“I ain’t hurt at all, and I don’t aim to be. Don’t go up there, Jim. There’s a bunch of other robbers fixing to take the cargo off us and they ain’t in no mood for argument.”
The noise on deck was real loud with al
l them drumming feet and falling bodies, and they was yelling plenty whenever they got hit or stabbed. A considerable number got throwed overboard or else jumped by the splashing we heard, and Jim and me made up our minds to hide. We blowed out our lamp and went over in the darkest corner of the hold and squeezed ourselfs behind some bales till the ruckus died down. We ain’t sure who won so we stayed right there till someone come down the rope with a lamp and says:
“Anyone there?”
We never budged or spoke. Others come down too and they got started on the cargo. I never heard no familiar voices so I reckon Portiss and the rest is dead or throwed overboard. This bunch worked fast but never done it the same as us, just grabbed whatever is nearest and hauled it up till their boats was full. Me and Jim warn’t in no danger of getting found, not hid way back in the shadows like we are. When the job got finished they went up the rope and hauled it up after them and fitted the hatch cover back. We heard them clump across the deck, then there’s oars creaking and voices talking, getting fainter and fainter till they’re gone, and it come to us we’re stuck down here without no way to get out.
I got out my lucifers and lit the lamp and seen that from the top of the hatch to the cargo deck where they cleared away all the crates is maybe twenty feet. There ain’t nothing for it but to drag boxes over and pile them up till we can climb up and see if the hatch is clipped, and if it is we’re dead men, because there ain’t no one going to hear us out here no matter how hard we holler. It cost us a heap of sweat and took hours, but finally we got a pointed pile like them old Egyptians used to make and Jim clumb up it and balanced on the top and pushed up against the hatch. It’s one of them times you don’t hardly dare to breathe, but they must of left in a hurry because the hatch ain’t got no clips fastened. It shifted an inch or so and Jim strained hard to lift it more and move it sideways. His muscles twitched under his skin it’s so heavy, but he done it in the end and rested awhile, then grabbed the edge and hauled himself up then reached down for me.
That bay air smelled mighty good after the hold and we sucked it in by the yard. It’s coming on for dawn by now and we seen blood on the deck and ropes dangling in the water where Portiss and them must of cut loose quick to get away. We ain’t marooned or nothing because there’s the ship’s dinghy sat upside down and lashed to the afterdeck. We got it free and opened the side section where the gangplank goes for unloading and slid it out through there. The dinghy hit the bay with a splash and I jumped in before it drifted off. Jim handed down the oars then lowered himself and we rowed away. We never bothered going the long way around like when the longboats is carrying stolen cargo, just headed straight for the waterfront and tied up at the wharf. The ferry steamer that brung us to San Francisco was docking at the same time, and plenty of forty-niners down from the diggings come off her and got met by the usual bunch of whores. They never took no notice of Jim and me seeing as we come out of a dinghy, and we walked along the same street we took that first time when we got robbed. Things ain’t improved a whole lot since then, and I say:
“Jim, I’m powerful sick and tired of this town. We got to get out and soon. It just ain’t our kind of country.”
“I ain’t argumentin’ wid you, Huck, but how we goin’ to do it when we ain’t got no cash behin’ us?”
“I counted up our savings last night and we got over two hundred dollars.”
“Dat don’ buy beans here’bouts, Huck.”
“Well, we have to figure a way out. I ain’t working for Miles Wyeth no more, and I ain’t staying in the same hotel as Pap. I can’t stand it.”
“Me neither. I been thinkin’ maybe we kin go down to de diggin’s souther here an’ try de minin’ again.
“You just now brung up the fact we ain’t got hardly enough for a grubstake, Jim, but maybe we could figure out a way to get more on the way. We got to do something to get away from here, definite.”
“You figure we kin leave de Corneycopey gang an’ not get our necks sawed open’?”
That got me thinking hard, and the answer come to me in a flash.
“Jim, my brain ain’t been working at full pressure these last few hours! We been handed the perfect way to do it and I only just now seen it! Why, they’ll figure we got stabbed or drowned in the fight and won’t even bother to look for us if we don’t show back at the hotel!”
“You forgettin’ somethin’, Huck. Das where we got our money stash’.”
He’s right about that, and it kind of throws cold water over the plan. We need that money. It ain’t much but it’s all we got, hid away under a floorboard in our room. There ain’t no fire escape stairs up the back of the building we can sneak up, so we decided the only way is to breeze into the lobby, stroll upstairs casual, hook the loot fast and breeze out again before we get took notice of. I wanted to do it alone, being smaller and not so distinctive looking as Jim, but he says he ain’t going to let me risk it on my own in case things don’t turn out the way we want and I need a helping hand. I give in and both of us slid in through the front door of the Ophir and never believed our luck when we seen the desk clerk ain’t there. We went upstairs without making no noise, and there’s no one in the hall so we unlocked our door and went in.
“Good day to you, Finn,” says Miles Wyeth.
He’s there with Portiss and a couple other men, all big and none of them smiling. Miles points to a chair and says:
“Sit down.”
I done it and the men made Jim sit on the bed, then they stood between us and the door so we can’t run for it. Miles walked up and down slow with his hands behind his back like a schoolteacher, and talked while he done it.
“What can you tell me of the incident last night, Finn?”
“I never seen much of it. I got hit on the head when I come up out of the hold and fell back in.”
“And the nigger?”
“He’s real protective. He drug me over in a corner and stayed with me so’s I never got hit again.”
Miles give a nod to Portiss and he come over and felt my head.
“No bumps,” he says.
“Maybe you’d like to change your story,” says Miles.
“Yessir, I would. It’s awful hard to admit, but I’m the dangdest coward in all creation. Soon as I seen them men fighting I dropped back down and played possum so’s not to get hurt. Jim wanted to go up and do his part with the rest but I never let him. I wanted him down there to protectify me.”
“Mr. Portiss has formed the opinion that you were hardly surprised by the attack, and I see his point. The coming together of two rival groups, one of them armed for a fight, is no coincidence. They knew in advance which ship we would be visiting and were lying in wait. There is a traitor in our midst, Finn, and you with your general reluctance to join our happy band are a prime suspect.”
“I ain’t no traitor! I’m just a coward, honest!”
“So you say, but how can I be sure?”
“Hit me and see if I don’t scream. I’m the lily-liverdest thing on two legs, but I ain’t traitorish.”
“You have a reputation for weasling out of tight corners with your tongue, Finn, so don’t try these feeble dramatics with me.
“I never told no one what ship we was going to pirate. How could I? I never knowed till we got there, and neither did the rest except for Mr. Portiss I guess.”
“Not so. There were others who knew beforehand, but you and the nigger were deliberately kept in ignorance.”
“Well, don’t that make me innocent?”
“You may have overheard one of the others mention the Antelope and relayed the information to certain of my enemies.”
“Well, I never. Why don’t you ask all them that knowed about the Antelope if they ever spoke it out loud when I’m around to hear it?”
“Unfortunately two of these men have not returned. I greatly fear they are dead, and therefore beyond questioning.”
“If Jim and me had of been in cahoots with them enemies how come we got l
eft in the hold?”
“How’d you get out?” says Portiss, and I told him.
“How fortunate they neglected to secure the hatch,” says Miles. “It creates a plausible alibi without causing bodily hurt. They seem to have thought of everything, but I am not convinced.”
“How many others never come back besides them that knowed about the Antelope?”
“Three,” he says.
“Then maybe one of them’s the traitor.”
“Possibly.”
“Anyway, you deserve it,” says I. “If you ain’t the crookedest man in town I’m a prairie dog. All you got was a taste of your own medicine I reckon.”
It ain’t the smartest thing to say, things being like they was, and it got me a hot ear off Portiss. Miles paced around awhile longer then says:
“You and the nigger will stay here until this mess has been cleared up.”
He give a nod to the rest and they trooped out. Soon as their footsteps died away I went along the hall and knocked on Pap’s door, wondering if he’s one of the missing ones. No answer, but it ain’t locked so in I went. Pap’s lying on his bed with a bottle like always, but he ain’t stinking drunk yet. He give a sneer and says:
“So they never got you.”
“They missed you too I reckon. Where’s Morg?”
“He never come back. He’ll be dead.”
“You ain’t exactly tearing your hair from grief over it.”
“Him and me should of parted company a long while back. He ain’t no loss.”
“Maybe not to you, but he’s the only one can clear me of murdering the judge.”
“He never would of owned up anyhow.”
“Pap, listen to me. Morg ain’t here no more to tell about the house burning. If you went to Bulldog Barrett and told about what happened at the Judge’s house maybe he’d believe you and quit chasing me.”
“Why’n hell would he believe me?”
“On account of you can say you was there and seen it all.”
“And get charged with accomplicin’? You can’t ask a thing like that of your old man! What kinder son are you?”
The Further Adventures of Huckleberry Finn Page 56