WE slept most all day, and started out at night, a
little ways behind a monstrous long raft that was as long
going by as a procession. She had four long sweeps at
each end, so we judged she carried as many as thirty men,
likely. She had five big wigwams aboard, wide apart, and
an open camp fire in the middle, and a tall flag-pole at
each end. There was a power of style about her. It
AMOUNTED to something being a raftsman on such a craft as
that.
We went drifting down into a big bend, and the night
clouded up and got hot. The river was very wide, and was
walled with solid timber on both sides; you couldn't see
a break in it hardly ever, or a light. We talked about
Cairo, and wondered whether we would know it when we got
to it. I said likely we wouldn't, because I had heard say
there warn't but about a dozen houses there, and if they
didn't happen to have them lit up, how was we going to
know we was passing a town? Jim said if the two big
rivers joined together there, that would show. But I said
maybe we might think we was passing the foot of an island
and coming into the same old river again. That disturbed
Jim — and me too. So the question was, what to do? I
said, paddle ashore the first time a light showed, and
tell them pap was behind, coming along with a trading-scow,
and was a green hand at the business, and wanted to know
how far it was to Cairo. Jim thought it was a good idea,
so we took a smoke on it and waited.
There warn't nothing to do now but to look out sharp
for the town, and not pass it without seeing it. He said
he'd be mighty sure to see it, because he'd be a free man
the minute he seen it, but if he missed it he'd be in a
slave country again and no more show for freedom. Every
little while he jumps up and says:
"Dah she is?"
But it warn't. It was Jack-o'-lanterns, or lightning
bugs; so he set down again, and went to watching, same as
before. Jim said it made him all over trembly and
feverish to be so close to freedom. Well, I can tell you
it made me all over trembly and feverish, too, to hear
him, because I begun to get it through my head that he
WAS most free — and who was to blame for it? Why, ME. I
couldn't get that out of my conscience, no how nor no way.
It got to troubling me so I couldn't rest; I couldn't
stay still in one place. It hadn't ever come home to me
before, what this thing was that I was doing. But now it
did; and it stayed with me, and scorched me more and more.
I tried to make out to myself that I warn't to blame,
because I didn't run Jim off from his rightful owner; but
it warn't no use, conscience up and says, every time,
"But you knowed he was running for his freedom, and
you could a paddled ashore and told somebody." That
was so — I couldn't get around that noway. That was
where it pinched. Conscience says to me, "What had
poor Miss Watson done to you that you could see her
nigger go off right under your eyes and never say one
single word? What did that poor old woman do to you that
you could treat her so mean? Why, she tried to learn you
your book, she tried to learn you your manners, she tried
to be good to you every way she knowed how. THAT'S what
she done."
I got to feeling so mean and so miserable I most
wished I was dead. I fidgeted up and down the raft,
abusing myself to myself, and Jim was fidgeting up and
down past me. We neither of us could keep still. Every
time he danced around and says, "Dah's Cairo!"
it went through me like a shot, and I thought if it WAS
Cairo I reckoned I would die of miserableness.
Jim talked out loud all the time while I was talking
to myself. He was saying how the first thing he would do
when he got to a free State he would go to saving up
money and never spend a single cent, and when he got
enough he would buy his wife, which was owned on a farm
close to where Miss Watson lived; and then they would
both work to buy the two children, and if their master
wouldn't sell them, they'd get an Ab'litionist to go and
steal them.
It most froze me to hear such talk. He wouldn't ever
dared to talk such talk in his life before. Just see what
a difference it made in him the minute he judged he was
about free. It was according to the old saying, "Give
a nigger an inch and he'll take an ell." Thinks I,
this is what comes of my not thinking. Here was this
nigger, which I had as good as helped to run away, coming
right out flat-footed and saying he would steal his
children — children that belonged to a man I didn't even
know; a man that hadn't ever done me no harm.
I was sorry to hear Jim say that, it was such a
lowering of him. My conscience got to stirring me up
hotter than ever, until at last I says to it, "Let
up on me — it ain't too late yet — I'll paddle ashore
at the first light and tell." I felt easy and happy
and light as a feather right off. All my troubles was
gone. I went to looking out sharp for a light, and sort
of singing to myself. By and by one showed. Jim sings out:
"We's safe, Huck, we's safe! Jump up and crack
yo' heels! Dat's de good ole Cairo at las', I jis knows
it!"
I says:
"I'll take the canoe and go and see, Jim. It
mightn't be, you know."
He jumped and got the canoe ready, and put his old
coat in the bottom for me to set on, and give me the
paddle; and as I shoved off, he says:
"Pooty soon I'll be a-shout'n' for joy, en I'll
say, it's all on accounts o' Huck; I's a free man, en I
couldn't ever ben free ef it hadn' ben for Huck; Huck
done it. Jim won't ever forgit you, Huck; you's de bes'
fren' Jim's ever had; en you's de ONLY fren' ole Jim's
got now."
I was paddling off, all in a sweat to tell on him; but
when he says this, it seemed to kind of take the tuck all
out of me. I went along slow then, and I warn't right
down certain whether I was glad I started or whether I
warn't. When I was fifty yards off, Jim says:
"Dah you goes, de ole true Huck; de on'y white
genlman dat ever kep' his promise to ole Jim."
Well, I just felt sick. But I says, I GOT to do it —
I can't get OUT of it. Right then along comes a skiff
with two men in it with guns, and they stopped and I
stopped. One of them says:
"What's that yonder?"
"A piece of a raft," I says.
"Do you belong on it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Any men on it?"
"Only one, sir."
"Well, there's five niggers run off to-night up
yonder, above the head of the bend. Is your man white or
black?"
I didn't answer up prompt. I tried to, but the words
wouldn't come. I tried for a second or two to brace up
and out with it, but I warn't man enough — hadn't the
spunk of a rabbit. I see I was weakening; so I just give
up trying, and up and says:
"He's white."
"I reckon we'll go and see for ourselves."
"I wish you would," says I, "because
it's pap that's there, and maybe you'd help me tow the
raft ashore where the light is. He's sick — and so is
mam and Mary Ann."
"Oh, the devil! we're in a hurry, boy. But I
s'pose we've got to. Come, buckle to your paddle, and
let's get along."
I buckled to my paddle and they laid to their oars.
When we had made a stroke or two, I says:
"Pap'll be mighty much obleeged to you, I can
tell you. Everybody goes away when I want them to help me
tow the raft ashore, and I can't do it by myself."
"Well, that's infernal mean. Odd, too. Say, boy,
what's the matter with your father?"
"It's the — a — the — well, it ain't anything
much."
They stopped pulling. It warn't but a mighty little
ways to the raft now. One says:
"Boy, that's a lie. What IS the matter with your
pap? Answer up square now, and it'll be the better for
you."
"I will, sir, I will, honest — but don't leave
us, please. It's the — the — Gentlemen, if you'll only
pull ahead, and let me heave you the headline, you won't
have to come a-near the raft — please do."
"Set her back, John, set her back!" says one.
They backed water. "Keep away, boy — keep to looard.
Confound it, I just expect the wind has blowed it to us.
Your pap's got the small-pox, and you know it precious
well. Why didn't you come out and say so? Do you want to
spread it all over?"
"Well," says I, a-blubbering, "I've
told everybody before, and they just went away and left
us."
"Poor devil, there's something in that. We are
right down sorry for you, but we — well, hang it, we
don't want the small-pox, you see. Look here, I'll tell
you what to do. Don't you try to land by yourself, or
you'll smash everything to pieces. You float along down
about twenty miles, and you'll come to a town on the left-hand
side of the river. It will be long after sun-up then, and
when you ask for help you tell them your folks are all
down with chills and fever. Don't be a fool again, and
let people guess what is the matter. Now we're trying to
do you a kindness; so you just put twenty miles between
us, that's a good boy. It wouldn't do any good to land
yonder where the light is — it's only a wood-yard. Say,
I reckon your father's poor, and I'm bound to say he's in
pretty hard luck. Here, I'll put a twentydollar gold
piece on this board, and you get it when it floats by. I
feel mighty mean to leave you; but my kingdom! it won't
do to fool with small-pox, don't you see?"
"Hold on, Parker," says the other man,
"here's a twenty to put on the board for me. Good-bye,
boy; you do as Mr. Parker told you, and you'll be all
right."
"That's so, my boy — good-bye, good-bye. If you
see any runaway niggers you get help and nab them, and
you can make some money by it."
"Good-bye, sir," says I; "I won't let
no runaway niggers get by me if I can help it."
They went off and I got aboard the raft, feeling bad
and low, because I knowed very well I had done wrong, and
I see it warn't no use for me to try to learn to do
right; a body that don't get STARTED right when he's
little ain't got no show — when the pinch comes there
ain't nothing to back him up and keep him to his work,
and so he gets beat. Then I thought a minute, and says to
myself, hold on; s'pose you'd a done right and give Jim
up, would you felt better than what you do now? No, says
I, I'd feel bad — I'd feel just the same way I do now.
Well, then, says I, what's the use you learning to do
right when it's troublesome to do right and ain't no
trouble to do wrong, and the wages is just the same? I
was stuck. I couldn't answer that. So I reckoned I
wouldn't bother no more about it, but after this always
do whichever come handiest at the time.
I went into the wigwam; Jim warn't there. I looked all
around; he warn't anywhere. I says:
"Jim!"
"Here I is, Huck. Is dey out o' sight yit? Don't
talk loud."
He was in the river under the stern oar, with just his
nose out. I told him they were out of sight, so he come
aboard. He says:
"I was a-listenin' to all de talk, en I slips
into de river en was gwyne to shove for sho' if dey come
aboard. Den I was gwyne to swim to de raf' agin when dey
was gone. But lawsy, how you did fool 'em, Huck! Dat WUZ
de smartes' dodge! I tell you, chile, I'spec it save' ole
Jim — ole Jim ain't going to forgit you for dat, honey."
Then we talked about the money. It was a pretty good
raise — twenty dollars apiece. Jim said we could take
deck passage on a steamboat now, and the money would last
us as far as we wanted to go in the free States. He said
twenty mile more warn't far for the raft to go, but he
wished we was already there.
Towards daybreak we tied up, and Jim was mighty
particular about hiding the raft good. Then he worked all
day fixing things in bundles, and getting all ready to
quit rafting.
That night about ten we hove in sight of the lights of
a town away down in a left-hand bend.
I went off in the canoe to ask about it. Pretty soon I
found a man out in the river with a skiff, setting a
trotline. I ranged up and says:
"Mister, is that town Cairo?"
"Cairo? no. You must be a blame' fool."
"What town is it, mister?"
"If you want to know, go and find out. If you
stay here botherin' around me for about a half a minute
longer you'll get something you won't want."
I paddled to the raft. Jim was awful disappointed, but
I said never mind, Cairo would be the next place, I
reckoned.
We passed another town before daylight, and I was
going out again; but it was high ground, so I didn't go.
No high ground about Cairo, Jim said. I had forgot it. We
laid up for the day on a towhead tolerable close to the
left-hand bank. I begun to suspicion something. So did
Jim. I says:
"Maybe we went by Cairo in the fog that night."
He says:
"Doan' le's talk about it, Huck. Po' niggers
can't have no luck. I awluz 'spected dat rattlesnake-skin
warn't done wid its work."
"I wish I'd never seen that snake-skin, Jim — I
do wish I'd never laid eyes on it."
"It ain't yo' fault, Huck; you didn' know. Don't
you blame yo'self 'bout it."
When it was daylight, here was the clear Ohio water
inshore, sure enough, and outside was the old regular
Muddy! So it was all up with Cairo.
We talked it all over. It wouldn't do to take to the
shore; we couldn't take the raft up the stream, of course.
There warn't no way but to wait for dark, and start back
in the canoe and take the chances. So we slept all day
amongst the cottonwood thicket, so as to be fresh for the
work, and when we went back to the raft about dark the
canoe was gone!
We didn't say a word for a good while. There warn't
anything to say. We both knowed well enough it was some
more work of the rattlesnake-skin; so what was the use to
talk about it? It would only look like we was finding
fault, and that would be bound to fetch more bad luck —
and keep on fetching it, too, till we knowed enough to
keep still.
By and by we talked about what we better do, and found
there warn't no way but just to go along down with the
raft till we got a chance to buy a canoe to go back in.
We warn't going to borrow it when there warn't anybody
around, the way pap would do, for that might set people
after us.
So we shoved out after dark on the raft.
Anybody that don't believe yet that it's foolishness
to handle a snake-skin, after all that that snake-skin
done for us, will believe it now if they read on and see
what more it done for us.
The place to buy canoes is off of rafts laying up at
shore. But we didn't see no rafts laying up; so we went
along during three hours and more. Well, the night got
gray and ruther thick, which is the next meanest thing to
fog. You can't tell the shape of the river, and you can't
see no distance. It got to be very late and still, and
then along comes a steamboat up the river. We lit the
lantern, and judged she would see it. Up-stream boats
didn't generly come close to us; they go out and follow
the bars and hunt for easy water under the reefs; but
nights like this they bull right up the channel against
the whole river.
We could hear her pounding along, but we didn't see
her good till she was close. She aimed right for us.
Often they do that and try to see how close they can come
without touching; sometimes the wheel bites off a sweep,
and then the pilot sticks his head out and laughs, and
thinks he's mighty smart. Well, here she comes, and we
said she was going to try and shave us; but she didn't
seem to be sheering off a bit. She was a big one, and she
was coming in a hurry, too, looking like a black cloud
with rows of glow-worms around it; but all of a sudden
she bulged out, big and scary, with a long row of wide-open
furnace doors shining like red-hot teeth, and her
monstrous bows and guards hanging right over us. There
was a yell at us, and a jingling of bells to stop the
engines, a powwow of cussing, and whistling of steam —
and as Jim went overboard on one side and I on the other,
she come smashing straight through the raft.
I dived — and I aimed to find the bottom, too, for a
thirty-foot wheel had got to go over me, and I wanted it
to have plenty of room. I could always stay under water a
minute; this time I reckon I stayed under a minute and a
half. Then I bounced for the top in a hurry, for I was
nearly busting. I popped out to my armpits and blowed the
water out of my nose, and puffed a bit. Of course there
was a booming current; and of course that boat started
her engines again ten seconds after she stopped them, for
they never cared much for raftsmen; so now she was
churning along up the river, out of sight in the thick
weather, though I could hear her.
I sung out for Jim about a dozen times, but I didn't
get any answer; so I grabbed a plank that touched me
while I was "treading water," and struck out
for shore, shoving it ahead of me. But I made out to see
that the drift of the current was towards the lefthand
shore, which meant that I was in a crossing; so I changed
off and went that way.
It was one of these long, slanting, two-mile
crossings; so I was a good long time in getting over. I
made a safe landing, and clumb up the bank. I couldn't
see but a little ways, but I went poking along over rough
ground for a quarter of a mile or more, and then I run
across a big old-fashioned double log-house before I
noticed it. I was going to rush by and get away, but a
lot of dogs jumped out and went to howling and barking at
me, and I knowed better than to move another peg.