Prisoners of Chance

by Randall Parrish

  CHAPTER IX

  THE BIRTH OF THE DEATH-DAWN

  We durst not swim to the nearest landing, just beyond the bow of thebig flag-ship we had so unceremoniously quitted, fearing our efforts tostem 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 awayfrom the great black shadow. Without a word De Noyan followed. Yettime was far too precious to permit long drifting, and at the earliestmoment I dared the venture we turned aside, striking out boldly for theshore.

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

  "Are the streets patrolled by the Dons?"

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

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

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

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

  He certainly proved his familiarity with that labyrinth of sombrestreets and alleys. Selecting a devious course, stooping low beneaththe black shadows of walls and fences, he yet set so swift a gait withhis confounded long legs it kept me puffing to follow. But we foundclear passage, seeing no one close enough to interfere with our rapidprogress, while no challenge sounded, until we crept, silently aspossible, around the dilapidated end of the old tobacco shed, and ablack figure, scarcely distinguishable in the gloom, suddenly arose,uttering no word, yet with threatening gesture, barring further passagetoward the river.

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

  "Bless de Lawd, Massa Benteen," returned a darky voice. "An' MassaCharlie, as I 'm a sinner. I tell you, sah, we done 'bout gib you bothup fo' suah."

  "Stop talking just now, Alphonse, and lead along lively," said DeNoyan, with returning authority. "We can converse later, insurroundings more congenial."

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

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

  "Up country is our only chance," I gasped, grasping an oar, vaguelynoting a second figure huddled within the bow. "All the lower water ispatrolled 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 earnestnesscreeping into his soft voice. "We can never pull against this stiffcurrent so as to get any distance in that time. This east shore isflat as a board for leagues. I 'm for heading straight across. If wegain the west bank within an hour, or even two, the Devil himself wouldhave a hard job to find us."

  "Go on," I muttered, bending grimly to my task. "You know this countrybetter 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 stepon 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 secondvoice questioned eagerly:

  "What was it you saw, Sanchez?"

  "Nothing, Senor; I heard voices out yonder. Listen! As the saintswatch, '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? Takeaim, 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 shoreward, a dozen black figures clustered in a bunch. Oneball crashed into the planking close beside my hand, hurling a splinterof wood against my face. The boat gave a sudden tremor, and, with aquick, sharp cry of pain, the negro next me leaped into the air, andwent plunging overboard. I flung forth a hand in vain effort tograpple his body, yet never touched it, and everything about becameblack once more.

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

  So quickly did this occur I do not believe we lost more than a strokeor two, and were already well out into the stream, nothing except ournarrow stern pointing toward the bank, where some of the soldiers--wejudged from their voices--were reloading for a second volley, theothers searching the shore after some boat in which to begin thepursuit. It was a hard pull, especially upon my part, as I chanced tosit on the lower side, having full sweep of the current tugging againstmy oar, while De Noyan headed the boat as directly as possible for thewestern shore. The soldiers, completely swallowed in the gloom, madeno further attempt to fire; possibly, having seen the fall of theblack, they believed their work done. Nor did other sounds reach usevidencing pursuit; for that moment at least we were free. It was thenI watched the coming of the dawn.

  There was a slight, scarcely perceptible, shading into a lighter tingeof the clinging black shadows that veiled the eastern sky, dimlyrevealing misty outlines of white, fleecy clouds extending above thefaint horizon line, until they assumed a spectral brightness, causingme to dream of the fairies' dwellings which my mother pictured to me inchildhood. Gently the delicate awakening spread along the widerexpanse of sky, which became bluish gray, gradually expanding andreflecting its glow along the water, until this also became a portionof the vast arch, while the darker borderland, now far astern, formedmerely a distant shade, a background to the majestic picture. The eastbecame gradually a lighter, more pronounced gray; rosy streaks shotupward through the cloud masses, driving them higher into anever-deepening upper blue like a flock of frightened birds, until atlast the whole eastern horizon blushed like a red rose, while above theblack line of distant, shadowy trees, the blazing rim of the sun itselfuplifted, casting a wide bar of dazzling gold along our wake. Gazingthus, every thought of our surroundings, our dangers, and fatiguepassed from memory. Bending to the oar, my soul was far away upon avoyage of its own.

  Some unusual movement served to attract attention from thisday-dreaming, my eyes falling suddenly upon De Noyan. His face, turnedpartially away from the rising sun, was gray with anxiety, and I notedhe shivered in his wet clothes. Yet his smile and speech seemedjauntily unconcerned as ever.

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

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

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

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

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

  "Nay; say not that! You are young; much of life, of usefulne
ss, liesbefore you. I knew that at the best only one destined victim might beplucked from the Spaniard's vengeance. It was at his approval I madechoice of you. My father is robbed of but few years, while you are tooyoung to die. Somewhere--God guiding--we shall find a home again, anddays of peace."

  "Ay! you were ever of brave heart, Eloise. But let us not forget weyet remain in reach of Spanish claws, and they are merciless. Go backto the tiller a while, and let me lay hold upon this oar; 'tis heavywork for such soft hands as yours. Point the course direct for thecane 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 telltaleexpression within my eyes might bring her added pain. So I sat withglance downcast upon the planks, while tugging doggedly at the oar withall my strength, feeling that same sunrise had brought with it my owndeath 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 uponthe shore, and De Noyan, springing overboard, dragged it well beyondview among the thick cane.

  "We shall be safe enough here," he exclaimed lightly, gazing about withapproval. "Come, Eloise, step on this dry sand, for you must begreatly cramped from so tedious a passage."

  As I arose, the more easily to permit her passing me in the narrowspace, she suddenly grasped both my hands within her own; then my eyesglanced up once more to meet hers, dark with unshed tears.

  "Do not think, Geoffrey Benteen," she said brokenly, her voicevibrating 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. ButI thank you; you have proven yourself a man, such a man as I have everbelieved you to be. May the good God bless you and bring you peace."

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

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