CHAPTER XVII.
A PUZZLE, AND INCIDENTS.
When the appointed time drew near we broke camp and proceeded to the designated spot on the river bank, which we found without much trouble. We waited and waited, but no negroes appeared. It was now nearly midnight, and a bright moon began to illuminate our surroundings with the ghostly light that proceeds from a combination of the moon's rays with the darkness and shadows of a timbered river bottom. We waited until we could no longer hear a sound from the plantation houses in the distance and for at least an hour after total silence reigned all about us. Then we began to fear that the negroes had forgotten us, and I was despatched to see what I could find.
Now comes a part of my story which I must leave to wiser heads than mine for explanation. I simply state the facts as they occurred and leave the reader to satisfy himself or herself as to the controlling influence which prompted my actions. I cannot satisfactorily explain them to myself.
I did not know a single foot of the ground over which I was to travel, and my only guide as to where I wanted to go was the remembrance of the direction in which we had heard the sounds of plantation life in the early evening.
I started off through a field and came upon a narrow road on the other side, evidently a cross road. Down this I turned, in a direction which did not accord with my memory of the proper course, and yet I seemed to be impelled that way. I soon came to a turnstile in the fence on one side, and through this I passed without a moment's hesitation, although there was nothing in sight except a narrow path. Some distance down the path I came to a double row of negro cabins, about twenty on each side of a narrow street, facing each other. I did not know what I was to do, and to find a particular negro in that array of cabins without arousing the whole outfit was a problem beyond me, yet, without any consideration, doubt or even a halt, I passed across the end of the street to the rear of the farther row of cabins, and down the back of that row until I reached the nearest corner of the next to the last house. Here I halted and stood still. Why, I do not know, but I did, and it was my first halt since I had left my companions. Shortly after I halted I heard a voice that I recognized say:
"Lay over dar, you Taylor!"
Here I was, right where I wished to be, and in a very short time I had aroused the sleeping darkeys, to learn that they had lain down to rest until the time appointed for the meeting, naturally falling fast asleep. They reproached themselves for their neglect, and we were soon on our way to the river bank, with a plentiful supply of food.
They asked me how I had found them, and I truthfully replied that I did not know, at which they rolled their eyes and looked at me in a peculiar manner, when I added that I was walking around the cabins in the hope of finding someone awake, and heard Sam tell Taylor to roll over. This satisfied them, but it has never satisfied me, for, while I heard the voice almost as soon as I halted, I could have passed the cabin in the short interval had I kept on, and in such event I could not have heard what I did.
My going directly to the cabins may be attributed to the instinct which sometimes leads men, and my passing to the rear of the farther cabins first to an accident of direction, but I never could account, on any theory of chance or instinct, for the coincidence of my halt at the proper place at the only instant in which I could have heard the call of Sam to Taylor.
We reached Rummel and Miller in so short a time after my departure from them as to cause an inquiry from them as to how I had managed to find the darkeys so quickly. I postponed explanation until later, and we proceeded to business.
The negroes had cooked us a goodly amount of hog meat and a pone of corn bread, but the meat was only such as they could procure in a hurry, and consisted of the livers, lights, noses and such portions of the animal as would not be used by the planter and his family.
The skiff of the darkeys had been lodged, during high water, behind a tree, and when we got it down and afloat it looked like a sieve. We caulked it as best we could with leaves and some old rags, but the thing was a failure, and none of us cared to risk it.
Sam offered to pilot us to Little Rock himself, crossing the river lower down and then going across the country, but this offer we declined, because of the almost certainty of death if runaway prisoners were caught with a runaway negro. Sam still insisted, however, saying that he had a rifle and seven rounds of ammunition, and that we could fight if we had to, but we positively refused to take him with us, and the man was actually inclined to be angry. The matter was settled by Taylor giving us directions to follow the river down stream until we found a cabin in a certain spot, which he described, and we set off in high glee, Taylor further informing us that his name would make everything right with the owners of the cabin, and that we would find a willing and able ferryman there.
It was now nearly morning, and we hastened on our way; but, when we came to the spot where Taylor had told us we would find a path to the cabin, we found that a large force of cavalry had recently been camped there, and all signs of any regular path were completely obliterated by the trampled condition of the ground and the many trails leading in all directions, while an immense quantity of corn shucks were strewn all about the place.
We made a circuit of the camp, and finally struck off on a path which looked as if it might be the one meant by Taylor, but we had not gone a great ways when it became a blind lead, and we were soon lost in the canebrake. The cane made it too dark to proceed farther, and we went into camp.
When daylight came we found ourselves in a great bend of the river, and a little feeling around showed us a number of cavalry horses turned loose. We therefore kept quiet, in a part of the bottom where the cane was so thick that we once heard a man rounding up the horses without our being able to see him. As Rummel expressed it, "We couldn't have found a cow right there if we had had hold of her tail."
After a while we stole out to where we could see without being seen, and discovered a tent and big fire not far away, while in the distance was a band of music moving away with an escort of rebel cavalry. Around the tent and fire were a lot of men and cavalry horses, and we concluded to adjourn.
After a long search through the cane we found a road and started off, keeping a sharp lookout.
We had gone but a short distance down the road when we almost ran into another cavalry camp, and we had to swallow our hearts to keep them in their proper position, while we hastily executed a flank movement to avoid the soldiers. We succeeded in passing around them without being discovered, and again went on our way in peace for a time, but soon had another scare.
It was now nearly evening, and as we reached the river bank we heard some men approaching. It was a close shave, as we barely had time to conceal ourselves before they came out of the woods on the opposite side of the road and started for the camp we had just passed.
As soon as they had disappeared we started to follow the river bank, and as we proceeded down stream, with the timber on our right and the river on our left, we had not gone far when some men were heard coming in our direction. Dodging into the brush for concealment, we lay there until several men and their dogs had passed. They turned into the wood not far from us and began cutting down a tree in which they had located a coon. The tree was soon felled, and then occurred a lively skirmish between men, dogs, clubs and coon, in which the coon finally got the worst of it.
When the battle was over and the coon-hunters had gone, we crawled out of our hiding place and started down the river again.
In less than a mile, and about 12 o'clock, we came upon another lot of soldiers, camped in the road on the river bank and apparently sound asleep, our evidence of the latter fact being the unmusical sounds proceeding from them.
The situation was rather on the critical order, but it was light enough for us to see any movement of the enemy. We made a careful movement by the right flank, and were soon around them, fortunately without discovery.
Proceeding on our way, we would have felt quite happy had Miller been less miserable, but he could not forget that we had not as yet crossed the river, and it was impossible for him to be comfortable while on the wrong side of a stream of water.
Coming to an opening in the timber on our right we saw a plantation. A high fence was built along the road in front of it. Just as we had gotten fairly started away from the timber and in front of this fence the sounds of a horse galloping in our direction caused us to make a sudden choice between an unwise meeting and a slide down the steep river bank. We slid.
The horsemen reined up in front of the farmhouse, just abreast of where we were hugging the slippery bank, and we heard him call out some inmate of the house and ask the way to Rondo, where, it seemed, they were having a dance.
The danger to result from meeting with undesirable people was considerable, and we had quite a scare on account of our narrow margin of time for evading this fast rider, but we soon became glad of the forced tumble over the river bank.
As soon as we were recovered from our scare and momentary confusion we found that our slide down the bank had landed us within easy reach of a canoe, the very thing most needed by us at that time. In fact, if we had gone down the bank with more momentum either the canoe or the water under it would have stopped our descent.
This discovery seemed providential, and we regarded it as a good omen of our success.
An investigation proved the canoe to be a poor affair, but we concluded that we could cross two at a time, and Rummel and Miller started, I keeping pace with them on the bank as the canoe carried them down. They got over all right, and Miller landed, Rummel coming back for me. Both Miller and myself now walked down stream, as the canoe made as much distance that way as across, and when Rummel had finally picked me up and landed me we met Miller at least a mile down stream from where we had started the movement.
During this operation Miller and I had to keep close to the river in order that we might not lose sight of each other or the canoe, and, by thus being unable to choose the best places for a convenient walk, we were pretty well scratched by the briers and other impediments that seemed to exist in profusion just where we had to go.
Having no further use for the canoe, we upset it and let it go. Then we started across the river bottom.
We had no trouble until we struck a bayou, which the moonlight showed to be quite wide. We could not tell how deep it was, but we found that it had a soft bottom, and we did not venture to wade the sluggish stream. After a long search up and down the edge, during which we got tangled up in some brush and made a row which started up some dogs in the neighborhood, we found a fence which crossed the bayou. I shall never forget the sight of Miller and Rummel "cooning" that fence.
The moon shone down through the gathering clouds with a dim light, and when we reached the fence we could see that it was built clear across the water in our front; so I mounted it at once and was soon on the other side. My companions had a discussion as to who should go first, both hanging back, for the fence looked frail and the top rails were sharp. When I got over and turned around to look, Rummel was just making a start.
The fence had not been used as a bridge, and some of the rails were rotten, while most were slippery.
I had had some vexatious experiences myself in crossing, and I was in a position to enjoy keenly the sight of the others going through the same experiences; so I stood in the moonlight, encouraging my friends and laughing heartily as a slip on a broken rail caused suppressed comments or grotesque contortions on the part of the fence-riders. They finally got across, and we soon found the main road, but our troubles were not yet ended, for the soil was "gumbo" of the meanest kind, and we soon had to camp and rest up, while to add to our cheer and comfort it began to rain.
We spent the balance of the night in the rain and "gumbo," praying for daylight and sunshine.