CHAPTER XI.
THE PURSUIT.
I sauntered out, after the events recorded in the last chapter, toinhale the fresh air of the morning. A slight rain had fallen during thenight, and it still moistened the dead leaves which carpeted the woods,making an extended walk out of the question; so, seating myself on thetrunk of a fallen tree, in the vicinity of the house, I awaited the hourfor breakfast. I had not remained there long before I heard the voicesof my host and Madam P---- on the front piazza:
"I tell you, Alice, I cannot--must not do it. If I overlook this, thediscipline of the plantation is at an end."
"Do what you please with him when you return," replied the lady, "but donot chain him up, and leave me, at such a time, alone. You know Jim isthe only one I can depend on."
"Well, have your own way. You know, my darling, I would not cause you amoment's uneasiness, but I must follow up this d----d Moye."
I was seated where I could hear, though I could not see the speakers,but it was evident from the tone of the last remark, that an actionaccompanied it quite as tender as the words. Being unwilling tooverhear more of a private conversation, I rose and approached them.
"Ah! my dear fellow," said the Colonel, on perceiving me, "are youstirring so early? I was about to send to your room to ask if you'll gowith me up the country. My d----d overseer has got away, and I mustfollow him at once."
"I'll go with pleasure," I replied. "Which way do you think Moye hasgone?"
"The shortest cut to the railroad, probably; but old Caesar will trackhim."
A servant then announced breakfast--an early one having been prepared.We hurried through the meal with all speed, and the other preparationsbeing soon over, were in twenty minutes in our saddles, and ready forthe journey. The mulatto coachman, with a third horse, was at the door,ready to accompany us. As we mounted, the Colonel said to him:
"Go and call Sam, the driver."
The darky soon returned with the heavy, ugly-visaged black who had beenwhipped, by Madam P----'s order, the day before.
"Sam," said his master, "I shall be gone some days, and I leave thefield-work in your hands. Let me have a good account of you when Ireturn."
"Yas, massa, you shill dat," replied the negro.
"Put Jule--Sam's Jule--into the woods, and see that she does fulltasks," continued the Colonel.
"Haint she wanted 'mong de nusses, massa?"
"Put some one else there--give her field-work; she needs it."
On large plantations the young children of the field-women are left withthem only at night, and are herded together during the day, in aseparate cabin, in charge of nurses. These nurses are feeble, sicklywomen, or recent mothers; and the fact of Jule's being employed in thatcapacity was evidence that she was unfit for outdoor labor.
Madam P----, who was waiting on the piazza to see us off, seemed aboutto remonstrate against this arrangement, but she hesitated a moment, andin that moment we had bidden her "Good-bye," and galloped away.
We were soon at the cabin of the negro-hunter, and the coachman,dismounting, called him out.
"Hurry up, hurry up," said the Colonel, as Sandy appeared, "we haven't amoment to spare."
"Jest so--jest so, Cunnel; I'll jine ye in a jiffin," replied he of thereddish extremities.
Emerging from the shanty with provoking deliberation--the impatience ofmy host had infected me--the clay-eater slowly proceeded to mount thehorse of the negro, while his dirt-bedraggled wife, and clay-encrustedchildren, followed close at his heels, the younger ones huddling aroundfor the tokens of paternal affection usual at parting. Whether it wasthe noise they made, or their frightful aspect, I know not, but thehorse, a spirited animal, took fright on their appearance, and nearlybroke away from the negro, who was holding him. Seeing this, the Colonelsaid:
"Clear out, you young scare-crows. Into the house with you."
"They arn't no more scare-crows than yourn, Cunnel J----," said themother, in a decidedly belligerent tone. "You may 'buse my old man--hekin stand it--but ye shan't blackguard my young 'uns!"
The Colonel laughed, and was about to make a good-natured reply, whenSandy yelled out:
"Gwo enter the house and shet up, ye---- ----."
With this affectionate farewell, he turned his horse and led the way upthe road.
The dog, who was a short distance in advance, soon gave a piercing howl,and started off at the speed of a reindeer. He had struck the trail, andurging our horses to their fastest speed, we followed.
We were all well mounted, but the mare the Colonel had given me was amagnificent animal, as fleet as the wind, and with a gait so easy thather back seemed a rocking-chair. Saddle-horses at the South are trainedto the gallop--Southern riders not deeming it necessary that one'sbreakfast should be churned into a Dutch cheese by a trotting nag, inorder that he may pass for a horseman.
We had ridden on at a perfect break-neck pace for half an hour, when theColonel shouted to our companion:
"Sandy, call the dog in; the horses wont last ten miles at thisgait--we've a long ride before us."
The dirt-eater did as he was bidden, and we soon settled into a gentlegallop.
We had passed through a dense forest of pines, but were emerging into a"bottom country," where some of the finest deciduous trees--then brownand leafless, but bearing promise of the opening beauty ofspring--reared, along with the unfading evergreen, their tall stems inthe air. The live-oak, the sycamore, the Spanish mulberry, the holly,and the persimmon--gaily festooned with wreaths of the white and yellowjessamine, the woodbine and the cypress-moss, and bearing here and therea bouquet of the mistletoe, with its deep green and glossy leavesupturned to the sun--flung their broad arms over the road, forming anarchway grander and more beautiful than any the hand of man ever wovefor the greatest hero the world has worshipped.
The woods were free from underbrush, and a coarse, wiry grass, unfit forfodder, and scattered through them in detached patches, was the onlyvegetation visible. The ground was mainly covered with the leaves andburrs of the pine.
We passed great numbers of swine, feeding on these burrs, and now andthen a horned animal browsing on the cypress-moss where it hung low onthe trees. I observed that nearly all the swine were marked, though theyseemed too wild to have ever seen an owner, or a human habitation. Theywere a long, lean, slab-sided race, with legs and shoulders like deer,and bearing no sort of resemblance to the ordinary hog, except in thesnout, and that feature was so much longer and sharper than the nose ofthe Northern swine, that I doubt if Agassiz would class the two as onespecies. However, they have their uses--they make excellent bacon, andare "death on snakes." Ireland itself is not more free from theserpentine race than are the districts frequented by these long-nosedquadrupeds.
"We call them Carolina race-horses," said the Colonel, as he finished anaccount of their peculiarities.
"Race-horses! Why, are they fleet of foot?"
"Fleet as deer. I'd match one against an ordinary horse at any time."
"Come, my friend, you're practising on my ignorance of natural history."
"Not a bit of it. See! there's a good specimen yonder. If we can get himinto the road, and fairly started, I'll bet you a dollar he'll beatSandy's mare on a half-mile stretch--Sandy to hold the stakes and havethe winnings."
"Well, agreed," I said, laughing, "and I'll give the pig ten rods thestart."
"No," replied the Colonel, "you can't afford it. He'll _have_ to startahead, but you'll need that in the count. Come, Sandy, will you go infor the pile?"
I'm not sure that the native would not have run a race with Old Nicholashimself, for the sake of so much money. To him it was a vast sum; and ashe thought of it, his eyes struck small sparks, and his enormous beardand mustachio vibrated with something that faintly resembled a laugh.Replying to the question, he said:
"Kinder reckon I wull, Cunnel; howsomdever, I keeps the stakes, onyhow?"
"Of course," said the planter, "but be honest--win if you can."
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nbsp; Sandy halted his horse in the road, while the planter and I took to thewoods on either side of the way. The Colonel soon manoeuvred toseparate the selected animal from the rest of the herd, and, withoutmuch difficulty, got him into the road, where, by closing down on eachflank, we kept him till he and Sandy were fairly under way.
"He'll keep to the road when once started," said the Colonel, laughing:"and he'll show you some of the tallest running you ever saw in yourlife."
Away they went. At first the pig, seeming not exactly to comprehend theprogramme, cantered off at a leisurely pace, though he held his own.Soon, however, he cast an eye behind him--halted a moment to collect histhoughts and reconnoitre--and then, lowering his head and elevating histail, put forth all his speed. And such speed! Talk of a deer, the wind,or a steam-engine--they are not to be compared with it. Nothing innature I ever saw run--except, it may be, a Southern tornado, or a SixthWard politician--could hope to distance that pig. He gained on the horseat every step, and it was soon evident that my dollar was gone!
"'In for a shilling, in for a pound,' is the adage, so, turning to theColonel, I said, as intelligibly as my horse's rapid pace and my excitedrisibilities would allow:
"I see I've lost, but I'll go you another dollar that _you_ can't beatthe pig!"
"No--sir!" the Colonel got out in the breaks of his laughing explosions;"you can't hedge on me in that manner. I'll go a dollar that _you_ can'tdo it, and your mare is the fastest on the road. She won me a thousandnot a month ago."
"Well, I'll do it--Sandy to have the stakes."
"Agreed," said the Colonel, and away _we_ went.
The swinish racer was about a hundred yards ahead when I gave the marethe reins, and told her to go. And she _did_ go. She flew against thewind with a motion so rapid that my face, as it clove the air, felt asif cutting its way through a solid body, and the trees, as we passed,seemed struck with panic, and running for dear life in the oppositedirection.
For a few moments I thought the mare was gaining, and I turned to theColonel with an exultant look.
"Don't shout till you win, my boy," he called out from the distancewhere I was fast leaving him and Sandy.
I _did not shout_, for spite of all my efforts the space between me andthe pig seemed to widen. Yet I kept on, determined to win, till, at theend of a short half-mile, we reached the Waccamaw--the swine still ahundred yards ahead! There his pigship halted, turned coolly around,eyed me for a moment, then with a quiet, deliberate trot, turned offinto the woods.
A bend in the road kept my companions out of sight for a few moments,and when they came up I had somewhat recovered my breath, though themare was blowing hard, and reeking with foam.
"Well," said the Colonel, "what do you think of our bacon 'as it runs?'"
"I think the Southern article can't be beat, whether raw or cooked,standing or running."
At this moment the hound, who had been leisurely jogging along in therear, disdaining to join in the race in which his dog of a master and Ihad engaged, came up, and dashing quickly on to the river's edge, set upa most dismal howling. The Colonel dismounted, and clambering down thebank, which was there twenty feet high, and very steep, shouted:
"The d----d Yankee has swum the stream!"
"Why so?" I asked.
"To cover his tracks and delay pursuit; but he has overshot the mark.There is no other road within ten miles, and he must have taken to thisone again beyond here. He's lost twenty minutes by this manoeuvre.Come, Sandy, call in the dog, we'll push on a little faster."
"But he tuk to t'other bank, Cunnel. Shan't we trail him thar?" askedSandy.
"And suppose he found a boat here," I suggested, "and made the shoresome ways down?"
"He couldn't get Firefly into a flat--we should only waste time inscouring the other bank. The swamp this side the next run has forced himinto the road within five miles. The trick is transparent. He took mefor a fool," replied the Colonel, answering both questions at once.
I had reined my horse out of the road, and when my companions turned togo, was standing at the edge of the bank, overlooking the river.Suddenly I saw, on one of the abutments of the bridge, what seemed along, black log--strange to say, _in motion_!
"Colonel," I shouted, "see there! a live log as I'm a white man!"
"Lord bless you," cried the planter, taking an observation, "it's analligator!"
I said no more, but pressing on after the hound, soon left my companionsout of sight. For long afterward, the Colonel, in a doleful way, wouldallude to my lamentable deficiency in natural history--particularly insuch branches as bacon and "live logs."
I had ridden about five miles, keeping well up with the hound, and hadreached the edge of the swamp, when suddenly the dog darted to the sideof the road, and began to yelp in the most frantic manner. Dismounting,and leading my horse to the spot, I made out plainly the print ofFirefly's feet in the sand. There was no mistaking it--that round shoeon the off forefoot. (The horse had, when a colt, a cracked hoof, andthough the wound was outgrown, the foot was still tender.) These printswere dry, while the tracks we had seen at the river were filled withwater, thus proving that the rain had ceased while the overseer waspassing between the two places. He was therefore not far off.
The Colonel and Sandy soon rode up.
"Caught a live log! eh, my good fellow?" asked my host, with a laugh.
"No; but here's the overseer as plain as daylight; and his tracks notwet!"
Quickly dismounting, he examined the ground, and then exclaimed:
"The d--l----it's a fact--here not four hours ago! He has doubled onhis tracks since, I'll wager, and not made twenty miles--we'll have himbefore night, sure! Come, mount--quick."
We sprang into our saddles, and again pressed rapidly on after the dog,who followed the scent at the top of his speed.
Some three miles more of wet, miry road took us to the run of which theColonel had spoken. Arrived there, we found the hound standing on thebank, wet to the skin, and looking decidedly chop-fallen.
"Death and d----n!" shouted the Colonel; "the dog has swum the run, andlost the trail on the other side! The d--d scoundrel has taken to thewater, and balked us after all! Take up the dog, Sandy, and try himagain over there."
The native spoke to Caesar, who bounded on to the horse's back in frontof his master. They then crossed the stream, which there was aboutfifty yards wide, and so shallow that in the deepest part the watermerely touched the horse's breast; but it was so roiled by the recentrain that we could not distinguish the foot-prints of the horse beneaththe surface.
The dog ranged up and down the opposite bank, but all to no purpose: theoverseer had not been there. He had gone either up or down thestream--in which direction, was now the question. Calling Sandy back toour side of the run, the Colonel proceeded to hold a 'council of war.'Each one gave his opinion, which was canvassed by the others, with asmuch solemnity as if the fate of the Union hung on the decision.
The native proposed we should separate--one go up, another down thestream, and the third, with the dog, follow the road; to which hethought Moye had finally returned. Those who should explore the runwould easily detect the horse's tracks where he had left it, and thentaking a straight course to the road, all might meet some five milesfurther on, at a place indicated.
I gave my adhesion to Sandy's plan, but the Colonel overruled it on theground of the waste of time that would be incurred in thus recoveringthe overseer's trail.
"Why not," he said, "strike at once for the end of his route? Why followthe slow steps he took in order to throw us off the track? He has notcome back to this road. Ten miles below there is another one leadingalso to the railway. He has taken that. We might as well send Sandy andthe dog back and go on by ourselves."
"But if bound for the Station, why should he wade through the creekhere, ten miles out of his way? Why not go straight on by the road?" Iasked.
"Because he knew the dog would track him, and he hoped by taking to therun to make me think he
had crossed the country instead of striking forthe railroad."
I felt sure the Colonel was wrong, but knowing him to be tenacious ofhis own opinions, I made no further objection.
Directing Sandy to call on Madam P---- and acquaint her with ourprogress, he then dismissed the negro-hunter, and once more led the wayup the road.
The next twenty miles, like our previous route, lay through an unbrokenforest. As we left the watercourses, we saw only the gloomy pines, whichthere--the region being remote from the means of transportation--wereseldom tapped, and presented few of the openings that invite the wearytraveller to the dwelling of the hospitable planter.
After a time the sky, which had been bright and cloudless all themorning, grew overcast, and gave out tokens of a coming storm. A blackcloud gathered in the west, and random flashes darted from it far off inthe distance; then gradually it neared us; low mutterings sounded in theair, and the tops of the tall pines a few miles away, were lit up nowand then with a fitful blaze, all the brighter for the deeper gloom thatsucceeded. Then a terrific flash and peal broke directly over us, and agreat tree, struck by a red-hot bolt, fell with a deafening crash, halfway across our path. Peal after peal followed, and then the rain--notfiltered into drops as it falls from our colder sky, but in broad,blinding sheets--poured full and heavy on our shelterless heads.
"Ah! there it comes!" shouted the Colonel. "God have mercy upon us!"
As he spoke, a crashing, crackling, thundering roar rose above thestorm, filling the air, and shaking the solid earth till it trembledbeneath our horses' feet, as if upheaved by a volcano. Nearer and nearerthe sound came, till it seemed that all the legions of darkness wereunloosed in the forest, and were mowing down the great pines as themower mows the grass with his scythe. Then an awful, sweeping crashthundered directly at our backs, and turning round, as if to face a foe,my horse, who had borne the roar and the blinding flash till thenunmoved, paralyzed with dread, and panting for breath, sunk to theground; while close at my side the Colonel, standing erect in hisstirrups, his head uncovered to the pouring sky, cried out:
"THANK GOD, WE ARE SAVED!"
There--not three hundred yards in our rear, had passed theTORNADO--uprooting trees, prostrating dwellings, and sending many a soulto its last account, but sparing _us_ for another day! For thirty milesthrough the forest it had mowed a swath of two hundred feet, and thenmoved on to stir the ocean to its briny depths.
With a full heart, I remounted, and turning my horse, pressed on in therain. We said not a word till a friendly opening pointed the way to aplanter's dwelling. Then calling to me to follow, the Colonel dashed upthe by-path which led to the mansion, and in five minutes we werewarming our chilled limbs before the cheerful fire that roared andcrackled on its broad hearth-stone.
Among the Pines; or, South in Secession Time Page 12
