THEY asked us considerable many
questions; wanted to know what
we covered up the raft that way
for, and laid by in the daytime
instead of running -- was Jim
a runaway nigger? Says I:
"Goodness sakes!
would a runaway nigger run
SOUTH?"
No, they allowed he wouldn't.
I had to account for things some
way, so I says:
"My folks was
living in Pike County, in Missouri,
where I
was born, and they all died off
but me and pa and my brother
Ike. Pa, he 'lowed he'd break
up and go down and live with
Uncle Ben, who's got a little
one-horse place on the river,
forty-four mile below Orleans.
Pa was pretty poor, and had some
debts; so when he'd squared up
there warn't nothing left but
sixteen dollars and our nigger,
Jim. That warn't enough to take
us fourteen hundred mile, deck
passage nor no other way. Well,
when the river rose pa had a
streak of luck one day; he ketched
this piece of a raft; so we reckoned
we'd go down to Orleans on it.
Pa's luck didn't hold out; a
steamboat run over the forrard
corner of the raft one night,
and we all went overboard and
dove under the wheel; Jim and
me come up all right, but pa
was drunk, and Ike was only four
years old, so they never come
up no more. Well, for the next
day or two we had considerable
trouble, because people was always
coming out in skiffs and trying
to take Jim away from me, saying
they believed he was a runaway
nigger. We don't run daytimes
no more now; nights they don't
bother us."
The duke says:
"Leave me alone
to cipher out a way so we can
run in the daytime
if we want to. I'll think the
thing over -- I'll invent a plan
that'll fix it. We'll let it
alone for to-day, because of
course we don't want to go by
that town yonder in daylight
-- it mightn't be healthy."
Towards night
it begun to darken up and look
like rain; the heat
lightning was squirting around
low down in the sky, and the
leaves was beginning to shiver
-- it was going to be pretty
ugly, it was easy to see that.
So the duke and the king went
to overhauling our wigwam, to
see what the beds was like. My
bed was a straw tick�better than
Jim's, which was a cornshuck
tick; there's always cobs around
about in a shuck tick, and they
poke into you and hurt; and when
you roll over the dry shucks
sound like you was rolling over
in a pile of dead leaves; it
makes such a rustling that you
wake up. Well, the duke allowed
he would take my bed; but the
king allowed he wouldn't. He
says:
"I should a
reckoned the difference in
rank would a sejested to you
that a corn-shuck bed warn't
just fitten for me to sleep on.
Your Grace 'll take the shuck
bed yourself."
Jim and me was in a sweat again
for a minute, being afraid there
was going to be some more trouble
amongst them; so we was pretty
glad when the duke says:
"'Tis my fate
to be always ground into the
mire under the
iron heel of oppression. Misfortune
has broken my once haughty spirit;
I yield, I submit; 'tis my fate.
I am alone in the world -- let
me suffer; can bear it."
We got away as soon as it was
good and dark. The king told
us to stand well out towards
the middle of the river, and
not show a light till we got
a long ways below the town. We
come in sight of the little bunch
of lights by and by -- that was
the town, you know -- and slid
by, about a half a mile out,
all right. When we was three-quarters
of a mile below we hoisted up
our signal lantern; and about
ten o'clock it come on to rain
and blow and thunder and lighten
like everything; so the king
told us to both stay on watch
till the weather got better;
then him and the duke crawled
into the wigwam and turned in
for the night. It was my watch
below till twelve, but I wouldn't
a turned in anyway if I'd had
a bed, because a body don't see
such a storm as that every day
in the week, not by a long sight.
My souls, how the wind did scream
along! And every second or two
there'd come a glare that lit
up the white-caps for a half
a mile around, and you'd see
the islands looking dusty through
the rain, and the trees thrashing
around in the wind; then comes
a H-WHACK! -- bum! bum! bumble-umble-um-bum-bum-bum-bum
-- and the thunder would go rumbling
and grumbling away, and quit
-- and then RIP comes another
flash and another sockdolager.
The waves most washed me off
the raft sometimes, but I hadn't
any clothes on, and didn't mind.
We didn't have no trouble about
snags; the lightning was glaring
and flittering around so constant
that we could see them plenty
soon enough to throw her head
this way or that and miss them.
I had the middle watch, you
know, but I was pretty sleepy
by that time, so Jim he said
he would stand the first half
of it for me; he was always mighty
good that way, Jim was. I crawled
into the wigwam, but the king
and the duke had their legs sprawled
around so there warn't no show
for me; so I laid outside --
I didn't mind the rain, because
it was warm, and the waves warn't
running so high now. About two
they come up again, though, and
Jim was going to call me; but
he changed his mind, because
he reckoned they warn't high
enough yet to do any harm; but
he was mistaken about that, for
pretty soon all of a sudden along
comes a regular ripper and washed
me overboard. It most killed
Jim a-laughing. He was the easiest
nigger to laugh that ever was,
anyway.
I took the watch, and Jim he
laid down and snored away; and
by and by the storm let up for
good and all; and the first cabin-light
that showed I rousted him out,
and we slid the raft into hiding
quarters for the day.
The king got
out an old ratty deck of cards
after breakfast,
and him and the duke played seven-up
a while, five cents a game. Then
they got tired of it, and allowed
they would "lay out a campaign," as
they called it. The duke went
down into his carpetbag, and
fetched up a lot of little printed
bills and read them out loud.
One bill said, "The celebrated
Dr. Armand de Montalban, of Paris," would "lecture
on the Science of Phrenology" at
such and such a place, on the
blank day of blank, at ten cents
admission, and "furnish charts
of character at twenty-five cents
apiece." The duke said that was
HIM. In another bill he was the "world-renowned
Shakespearian tragedian, Garrick
the Younger, of Drury Lane, London." In
other bills he had a lot of other
names and done other wonderful
things, like finding water and
gold with a "divining-rod," "dissipating
witch spells," and so on. By
and by he says:
"But the histrionic
muse is the darling. Have you
ever trod
the boards, Royalty?"
"No," says
the king.
"You shall, then, before you're
three days older, Fallen Grandeur," says
the duke. "The first good town
we come to we'll hire a hall
and do the sword fight in Richard
III. and the balcony scene in
Romeo and Juliet. How does that
strike you?"
"I'm in, up
to the hub, for anything that
will pay, Bilgewater;
but, you see, I don't know nothing
about play-actin', and hain't
ever seen much of it. I was too
small when pap used to have 'em
at the palace. Do you reckon
you can learn me?"
"Easy!"
"All right.
I'm jist a-freezn' for something
fresh, anyway.
Le's commence right away."
So the duke he told him all
about who Romeo was and who Juliet
was, and said he was used to
being Romeo, so the king could
be Juliet.
"But if Juliet's
such a young gal, duke, my
peeled head and
my white whiskers is goin' to
look oncommon odd on her, maybe."
"No, don't
you worry; these country jakes
won't ever think
of that. Besides, you know, you'll
be in costume, and that makes
all the difference in the world;
Juliet's in a balcony, enjoying
the moonlight before she goes
to bed, and she's got on her
nightgown and her ruffled nightcap.
Here are the costumes for the
parts."
He got out two or three curtain-calico
suits, which he said was meedyevil
armor for Richard III. and t'other
chap, and a long white cotton
nightshirt and a ruffled nightcap
to match. The king was satisfied;
so the duke got out his book
and read the parts over in the
most splendid spread-eagle way,
prancing around and acting at
the same time, to show how it
had got to be done; then he give
the book to the king and told
him to get his part by heart.
There was a little one-horse
town about three mile down the
bend, and after dinner the duke
said he had ciphered out his
idea about how to run in daylight
without it being dangersome for
Jim; so he allowed he would go
down to the town and fix that
thing. The king allowed he would
go, too, and see if he couldn't
strike something. We was out
of coffee, so Jim said I better
go along with them in the canoe
and get some.
When we got there there warn't
nobody stirring; streets empty,
and perfectly dead and still,
like Sunday. We found a sick
nigger sunning himself in a back
yard, and he said everybody that
warn't too young or too sick
or too old was gone to campmeeting,
about two mile back in the woods.
The king got the directions,
and allowed he'd go and work
that camp-meeting for all it
was worth, and I might go, too.
The duke said what he was after
was a printing-office. We found
it; a little bit of a concern,
up over a carpenter shop -- carpenters
and printers all gone to the
meeting, and no doors locked.
It was a dirty, littered-up place,
and had ink marks, and handbills
with pictures of horses and runaway
niggers on them, all over the
walls. The duke shed his coat
and said he was all right now.
So me and the king lit out for
the camp-meeting.
We got there in about a half
an hour fairly dripping, for
it was a most awful hot day.
There was as much as a thousand
people there from twenty mile
around. The woods was full of
teams and wagons, hitched everywheres,
feeding out of the wagon-troughs
and stomping to keep off the
flies. There was sheds made out
of poles and roofed over with
branches, where they had lemonade
and gingerbread to sell, and
piles of watermelons and green
corn and such-like truck.
The preaching was going on
under the same kinds of sheds,
only they was bigger and held
crowds of people. The benches
was made out of outside slabs
of logs, with holes bored in
the round side to drive sticks
into for legs. They didn't have
no backs. The preachers had high
platforms to stand on at one
end of the sheds. The women had
on sun-bonnets; and some had
linsey-woolsey frocks, some gingham
ones, and a few of the young
ones had on calico. Some of the
young men was barefooted, and
some of the children didn't have
on any clothes but just a towlinen
shirt. Some of the old women
was knitting, and some of the
young folks was courting on the
sly.
The first shed
we come to the preacher was
lining out a hymn.
He lined out two lines, everybody
sung it, and it was kind of grand
to hear it, there was so many
of them and they done it in such
a rousing way; then he lined
out two more for them to sing
-- and so on. The people woke
up more and more, and sung louder
and louder; and towards the end
some begun to groan, and some
begun to shout. Then the preacher
begun to preach, and begun in
earnest, too; and went weaving
first to one side of the platform
and then the other, and then
a-leaning down over the front
of it, with his arms and his
body going all the time, and
shouting his words out with all
his might; and every now and
then he would hold up his Bible
and spread it open, and kind
of pass it around this way and
that, shouting, "It's the brazen
serpent in the wilderness! Look
upon it and live!" And people
would shout out, "Glory! -- A-a-MEN!" And
so he went on, and the people
groaning and crying and saying
amen:
"Oh, come to the mourners'
bench! come, black with sin!
(AMEN!) come, sick and sore!
(AMEN!) come, lame and halt and
blind! (AMEN!) come, pore and
needy, sunk in shame! (A-A-MEN!)
come, all that's worn and soiled
and suffering! -- come with a
broken spirit! come with a contrite
heart! come in your rags and
sin and dirt! the waters that
cleanse is free, the door of
heaven stands open -- oh, enter
in and be at rest!" (A-A-MEN!
GLORY, GLORY HALLELUJAH!)
And so on. You couldn't make
out what the preacher said any
more, on account of the shouting
and crying. Folks got up everywheres
in the crowd, and worked their
way just by main strength to
the mourners' bench, with the
tears running down their faces;
and when all the mourners had
got up there to the front benches
in a crowd, they sung and shouted
and flung themselves down on
the straw, just crazy and wild.
Well, the first
I knowed the king got a-going,
and you could
hear him over everybody; and
next he went a-charging up on
to the platform, and the preacher
he begged him to speak to the
people, and he done it. He told
them he was a pirate -- been
a pirate for thirty years out
in the Indian Ocean -- and his
crew was thinned out considerable
last spring in a fight, and he
was home now to take out some
fresh men, and thanks to goodness
he'd been robbed last night and
put ashore off of a steamboat
without a cent, and he was glad
of it; it was the blessedest
thing that ever happened to him,
because he was a changed man
now, and happy for the first
time in his life; and, poor as
he was, he was going to start
right off and work his way back
to the Indian Ocean, and put
in the rest of his life trying
to turn the pirates into the
true path; for he could do it
better than anybody else, being
acquainted with all pirate crews
in that ocean; and though it
would take him a long time to
get there without money, he would
get there anyway, and every time
he convinced a pirate he would
say to him, "Don't you thank
me, don't you give me no credit;
it all belongs to them dear people
in Pokeville campmeeting, natural
brothers and benefactors of the
race, and that dear preacher
there, the truest friend a pirate
ever had!"
And then he
busted into tears, and so did
everybody. Then somebody
sings out, "Take up a collection
for him, take up a collection!" Well,
a half a dozen made a jump to
do it, but somebody sings out, "Let
HIM pass the hat around!" Then
everybody said it, the preacher
too.
So the king went all through
the crowd with his hat swabbing
his eyes, and blessing the people
and praising them and thanking
them for being so good to the
poor pirates away off there;
and every little while the prettiest
kind of girls, with the tears
running down their cheeks, would
up and ask him would he let them
kiss him for to remember him
by; and he always done it; and
some of them he hugged and kissed
as many as five or six times
-- and he was invited to stay
a week; and everybody wanted
him to live in their houses,
and said they'd think it was
an honor; but he said as this
was the last day of the camp-meeting
he couldn't do no good, and besides
he was in a sweat to get to the
Indian Ocean right off and go
to work on the pirates.
When we got back to the raft
and he come to count up he found
he had collected eighty-seven
dollars and seventy-five cents.
And then he had fetched away
a three-gallon jug of whisky,
too, that he found under a wagon
when he was starting home through
the woods. The king said, take
it all around, it laid over any
day he'd ever put in in the missionarying
line. He said it warn't no use
talking, heathens don't amount
to shucks alongside of pirates
to work a camp-meeting with.
The duke was
thinking HE'D been doing pretty
well till the
king come to show up, but after
that he didn't think so so much.
He had set up and printed off
two little jobs for farmers in
that printing-office -- horse
bills -- and took the money,
four dollars. And he had got
in ten dollars' worth of advertisements
for the paper, which he said
he would put in for four dollars
if they would pay in advance
-- so they done it. The price
of the paper was two dollars
a year, but he took in three
subscriptions for half a dollar
apiece on condition of them paying
him in advance; they were going
to pay in cordwood and onions
as usual, but he said he had
just bought the concern and knocked
down the price as low as he could
afford it, and was going to run
it for cash. He set up a little
piece of poetry, which he made,
himself, out of his own head
-- three verses -- kind of sweet
and saddish -- the name of it
was, "Yes, crush, cold world,
this breaking heart" -- and he
left that all set up and ready
to print in the paper, and didn't
charge nothing for it. Well,
he took in nine dollars and a
half, and said he'd done a pretty
square day's work for it.
Then he showed
us another little job he'd
printed and hadn't charged
for, because it was for us. It
had a picture of a runaway nigger
with a bundle on a stick over
his shoulder, and "$200 reward" under
it. The reading was all about
Jim, and just described him to
a dot. It said he run away from
St. Jacques' plantation, forty
mile below New Orleans, last
winter, and likely went north,
and whoever would catch him and
send him back he could have the
reward and expenses.
"Now," says the duke, "after
to-night we can run in the daytime
if we want to. Whenever we see
anybody coming we can tie Jim
hand and foot with a rope, and
lay him in the wigwam and show
this handbill and say we captured
him up the river, and were too
poor to travel on a steamboat,
so we got this little raft on
credit from our friends and are
going down to get the reward.
Handcuffs and chains would look
still better on Jim, but it wouldn't
go well with the story of us
being so poor. Too much like
jewelry. Ropes are the correct
thing -- we must preserve the
unities, as we say on the boards."
We all said the duke was pretty
smart, and there couldn't be
no trouble about running daytimes.
We judged we could make miles
enough that night to get out
of the reach of the powwow we
reckoned the duke's work in the
printing office was going to
make in that little town; then
we could boom right along if
we wanted to.
We laid low and kept still,
and never shoved out till nearly
ten o'clock; then we slid by,
pretty wide away from the town,
and didn't hoist our lantern
till we was clear out of sight
of it.
When Jim called me to take
the watch at four in the morning,
he says:
"Huck, does
you reck'n we gwyne to run
acrost any mo' kings on
dis trip?"
"No," I says, "I
reckon not."
"Well," says he, "dat's
all right, den. I doan' mine
one
er two kings, but dat's enough.
Dis one's powerful drunk, en
de duke ain' much better."
I found Jim had been trying
to get him to talk French, so
he could hear what it was like;
but he said he had been in this
country so long, and had so much
trouble, he'd forgot it. |