University of Virginia Library

Chapter XVI.

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.

[ILLUSTRATION]

"it amounted to something being a raftsman."

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 the 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 staid 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-andby
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 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 head-line, 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?"

[ILLUSTRATION]

"boy, that's a lie."

"Well," says I, a-blubbering, "I've told everybody before, and then 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 twenty dollar 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."

[ILLUSTRATION]

'here i is, huck."

"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 was 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 'speck it save' ole Jim—ole Jim ain't gwyne
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 trot-line. 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 tow-head 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' less' talk about it, Huck. Po' niggers can't have no luck. I awluz
'spected dat rattle-snake skin warn't done wid it's 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 in shore, 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 cotton-wood 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 rattle-snake 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 to 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
pow-wow 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 staid under water a minute and a
half. Then I bounced for the top in a hurry, for I was nearly busting. I popped
out to my arm-pits 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 left-hand 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 clum 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.

[ILLUSTRATION]

climbing up the bank.