Prisoners of Chance Part 11

CHAPTER IX

THE BIRTH OF THE DEATH-DAWN

We durst not swim to the nearest landing, just beyond the bow of the big flag-ship we had so unceremoniously quitted, fearing our efforts to stem the current might attract the attention of some watcher on board.

So permitting myself to drift silently beneath the vessel's stern, without the stir of a limb to disturb the water, I was soon well away from the great black shadow. Without a word De Noyan followed. Yet time was far too precious to permit long drifting, and at the earliest moment I dared the venture we turned aside, striking out boldly for the sh.o.r.e.

"We must move rapidly, Chevalier, to make up lost time," I cautioned briefly, wading out, dripping, upon the bank.

"Are the streets patrolled by the Dons?"

"Ay! although not as thoroughly as when the Spaniards first landed. We shall require to exercise caution."

"Where do you take me? There can be no safe hiding spot in New Orleans?"

"I know none. We go to the rear of a long row of tobacco sheds near the North Gate. A boat thoroughly stocked, with two oar men, awaits us."

"I mind the place," he said eagerly, "I outfitted there for hunting more than once. It is best for me to lead, as I know well every inch of the path, and have grown interested in the play."

He certainly proved his familiarity with that labyrinth of sombre streets and alleys. Selecting a devious course, stooping low beneath the black shadows of walls and fences, he yet set so swift a gait with his confounded long legs it kept me puffing to follow. But we found clear pa.s.sage, seeing no one close enough to interfere with our rapid progress, while no challenge sounded, until we crept, silently as possible, around the dilapidated end of the old tobacco shed, and a black figure, scarcely distinguishable in the gloom, suddenly arose, uttering no word, yet with threatening gesture, barring further pa.s.sage toward the river.

"Virginia," I gasped, breathless from the hard run.

"Bless de Lawd, Ma.s.sa Benteen," returned a darky voice. "An' Ma.s.sa Charlie, as I 'm a sinner. I tell you, sah, we done 'bout gib you both up fo' suah."

"Stop talking just now, Alphonse, and lead along lively," said De Noyan, with returning authority. "We can converse later, in surroundings more congenial."

Another moment and we were in the boat, the Chevalier pushing it clear of the bank, then lightly clambering in over the stern.

"Benteen," he exclaimed, panting heavily, "I confess I'm about useless from lack of wind. _Sacre_! I 've been housed so long I am weak as an invalid, yet I can steer the craft if you inform me where 'tis best to go."

"Up country is our only chance," I gasped, grasping an oar, vaguely noting a second figure huddled within the bow. "All the lower water is patrolled by the fleet, but above there are plenty of hiding places.

Lay down to it hard, you black rascals; you are pulling for your lives."

De Noyan extended his hand toward the east.

"It will be dawn in about an hour," he said, a tone of earnestness creeping into his soft voice. "We can never pull against this stiff current so as to get any distance in that time. This east sh.o.r.e is flat as a board for leagues. I 'm for heading straight across. If we gain the west bank within an hour, or even two, the Devil himself would have a hard job to find us."

"Go on," I muttered, bending grimly to my task. "You know this country better than I. When we reach upper waters it will be my turn to guide."

As I uttered these words, a bit impatiently, there sounded a quick step on the low bank at our right. A sharp voice cleaved the darkness.

"Halt there! Halt that boat, or I put a ball through you."

"Sheer off lively, lads," I whispered. "Swing her head out, Chevalier."

There was a rush of feet down the steep embankment. Then a second voice questioned eagerly:

"What was it you saw, Sanchez?"

"Nothing, Senor; I heard voices out yonder. Listen! As the saints watch, 't is the dip of oars."

"Halt that boat, or we shoot!"

There followed a moment's painful pause. An oar in our bow slipped, making an awkward splash in the water. "_Caramba_! you will not? Take aim, men--fire."

A jagged flash of flame cleaved the night. It lit the steep bank, flinging a bright glare across the dark waters. In that instant I saw, my face set sh.o.r.eward, a dozen black figures cl.u.s.tered in a bunch. One ball crashed into the planking close beside my hand, hurling a splinter of wood against my face. The boat gave a sudden tremor, and, with a quick, sharp cry of pain, the negro next me leaped into the air, and went plunging overboard. I flung forth a hand in vain effort to grapple his body, yet never touched it, and everything about became black once more.

"The poor devil's gone," muttered De Noyan. "The rest of you lay down to your oars, before they have time to load again."

So quickly did this occur I do not believe we lost more than a stroke or two, and were already well out into the stream, nothing except our narrow stern pointing toward the bank, where some of the soldiers--we judged from their voices--were reloading for a second volley, the others searching the sh.o.r.e after some boat in which to begin the pursuit. It was a hard pull, especially upon my part, as I chanced to sit on the lower side, having full sweep of the current tugging against my oar, while De Noyan headed the boat as directly as possible for the western sh.o.r.e. The soldiers, completely swallowed in the gloom, made no further attempt to fire; possibly, having seen the fall of the black, they believed their work done. Nor did other sounds reach us evidencing pursuit; for that moment at least we were free. It was then I watched the coming of the dawn.

There was a slight, scarcely perceptible, shading into a lighter tinge of the clinging black shadows that veiled the eastern sky, dimly revealing misty outlines of white, fleecy clouds extending above the faint horizon line, until they a.s.sumed a spectral brightness, causing me to dream of the fairies' dwellings which my mother pictured to me in childhood. Gently the delicate awakening spread along the wider expanse of sky, which became bluish gray, gradually expanding and reflecting its glow along the water, until this also became a portion of the vast arch, while the darker borderland, now far astern, formed merely a distant shade, a background to the majestic picture. The east became gradually a lighter, more p.r.o.nounced gray; rosy streaks shot upward through the cloud ma.s.ses, driving them higher into an ever-deepening upper blue like a flock of frightened birds, until at last the whole eastern horizon blushed like a red rose, while above the black line of distant, shadowy trees, the blazing rim of the sun itself uplifted, casting a wide bar of dazzling gold along our wake. Gazing thus, every thought of our surroundings, our dangers, and fatigue pa.s.sed from memory. Bending to the oar, my soul was far away upon a voyage of its own.

Some unusual movement served to attract attention from this day-dreaming, my eyes falling suddenly upon De Noyan. His face, turned partially away from the rising sun, was gray with anxiety, and I noted he shivered in his wet clothes. Yet his smile and speech seemed jauntily unconcerned as ever.

"Yonder was to have been my last sunrise," he remarked grimly, nodding backward across his shoulder. "'Tis about the hour now for those in the hands of the Dons to have their backs against the wall."

I caught a sound as of a partially suppressed sob behind me, but before I could turn sufficiently to ascertain the cause, the Chevalier sprang past, rocking the little boat furiously, and my ears overheard that which caused me to keep my face set the other way.

"Eloise!" he exclaimed exultantly. "Are you here, little wife? Mon Dieu! I dreamed it not; yet should have known you would never leave such duty to the slaves."

"I was simply compelled to come," she answered, and I could mark her voice falter. "Do not be angry with me. What have I now left except you? The rising of the sun sealed my father's fate."

"True," he admitted soberly, lifting his hat in grave gesture. "I feel like a condemned coward, my name a byword for the rabble, being here in such comparative safety, when, in honor, I should be lying beside my comrades."

"Nay; say not that! You are young; much of life, of usefulness, lies before you. I knew that at the best only one destined victim might be plucked from the Spaniard's vengeance. It was at his approval I made choice of you. My father is robbed of but few years, while you are too young to die. Somewhere--G.o.d guiding--we shall find a home again, and days of peace."

"Ay! you were ever of brave heart, Eloise. But let us not forget we yet remain in reach of Spanish claws, and they are merciless. Go back to the tiller a while, and let me lay hold upon this oar; 'tis heavy work for such soft hands as yours. Point the course direct for the cane island--you must remember it; you were there once with me."

I fail to recall even glancing into her face as she sat fronting me, her hands upon the tiller bar. I durst not, fearing some telltale expression within my eyes might bring her added pain. So I sat with glance downcast upon the planks, while tugging doggedly at the oar with all my strength, feeling that same sunrise had brought with it my own death warrant. So dull and heavy grew my heart with lonely weariness, I cannot guess how long we pulled before the boat's nose ran up upon the sh.o.r.e, and De Noyan, springing overboard, dragged it well beyond view among the thick cane.

"We shall be safe enough here," he exclaimed lightly, gazing about with approval. "Come, Eloise, step on this dry sand, for you must be greatly cramped from so tedious a pa.s.sage."

As I arose, the more easily to permit her pa.s.sing me in the narrow s.p.a.ce, she suddenly grasped both my hands within her own; then my eyes glanced up once more to meet hers, dark with unshed tears.

"Do not think, Geoffrey Benteen," she said brokenly, her voice vibrating with emotion, "that I fail to realize what this means to you.

Your troubled face has been a silent accuser of me this hour past. But I thank you; you have proven yourself a man, such a man as I have ever believed you to be. May the good G.o.d bless you and bring you peace."

"Ay!" chimed in her husband, apparently in good humor. "He's the nerviest fellow ever I met, Eloise. _Sacre_! had you hunted this province over you could never have found one to perform better work this night. I wonder how it was you chanced upon him?"

Without venturing a word in reply to either of them, I helped her gravely over the boat's side, within grasp of his outstretched hand, all about us the warm sunshine piercing the thick canes with golden light.

CHAPTER X