Hugh Glass - Bruce Bradley

by Bruce Bradley

  "Diego!" the old woman cried plaintively, trying to go to him. The men pushed her back and began to strip her.

  Hugh took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out.

  "I don't think so," he said out loud. Then he walked forward. Pushing his way through the men to where the old woman was, he raised the pistol and shot her in the heart.

  The pirates jumped away, startled. Hugh looked at Diego, the old woman's husband. The old man seemed to nod to him, then he put his head down on the deck and died.

  Turning, Hugh started away. One of the pirates struck him. Then, suddenly, several of them converged on him at once, hitting and kicking him. Hugh tried to fight back, landing some good blows, but he'd been caught off balance. The others had the advantage.

  More of the pirates joined in, kicking at him when they could get close enough. In a way, this helped Hugh--there were too many of them and they all got in each other's way. Then something seemed to well up inside him. He managed to get his feet under him.

  Somewhere in front of him, Hugh caught a glint of sunlight on the blade of a sword. Then there was a pistol shot.

  Everything stopped.

  For a moment no one moved. A pirate named De Lour lay dead on the deck, sword in hand. A few feet away Clint stood, holding a pistol.

  A sudden flash of light on Hugh's left caused him to pull sideways, to the right. Weasel's sword nicked Hugh's scalp and bit deep into the mast, just behind him. Before Weasel could recover Hugh moved in, pulled his knife, and thrust it into the little man's throat. Weasel's eyes grew wide. He clutched his throat, trying to stop the flow of blood. His mouth began to work, but no sound came out. Then he fell face forward onto the deck.

  "ENOUGH!" It was Renoux's voice. The Frenchman pushed through the crowd of men that surrounded Hugh. Eyes blazing with fury, he looked at Hugh, then at the bodies that lay strewn upon the deck, then back at Hugh.

  "Just WHAT has happened here?" he demanded. "What?"

  "I killed one of the prisoners," Hugh said flatly. "They didn't like it."

  "We was just havin' some fun, Cap'n, like we always do," Mahoney broke in, "an' he goes an' shoots the bitch!"

  "And now," Renoux put a hand for silence, "two of my men are dead. Do you realize," he was looking at Hugh again, "that is twice the number of men we lost in the taking of this vessel?"

  Hugh said nothing.

  "Very well," Renoux said tiredly. He looked around at the others. "Bring me the other prisoners."

  The two priests were brought forward. By now Clint had moved forward too, so that he stood next to Hugh.

  When the two priests stood before them, Renoux spoke again.

  "I need two loaded pistols," he said to the crowd of men. "Quickly! We have wasted enough time on this!"

  Two pistols emerged from the crowd. Renoux handed on of them to Hugh. "There!" Renoux told him. "Since you like to kill prisoners, kill this one." He pointed at one of the priests.

  Hugh looked at the priest. The man was trembling with fear, but the look in his eyes showed that he had accepted his fate. Strangely, Hugh felt nothing toward the man, just a small sympathy. Not enough to kill him.

  "No," he said to Renoux.

  "I'm giving you a direct order," Renoux insisted. "Kill him!" Hugh shook his head.

  Renoux took the pistol from him and handed it to Clint.

  "You!" he said to Clint. "You were part of this. You kill the prisoner."

  Clint refused.

  "Kill him!" Renoux demanded.

  Clint dropped the pistol onto the deck and stood, looking at nothing.

  "Have it your way," Renoux said, seething. Then, to the others, he said, "These two men have disobeyed a direct order from their Captain! They are to be taken back to the Madalaine and locked in the hold until we return to Campeche! There, they will be tried by Jean Lafitte himself and will be hung for refusing to obey!" He turned back to Clint and Hugh. "I would hang you right here and now, but Jean insists on reserving that privilege for himself!"

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THEY REMAINED locked in the hold for three days, after which they were allowed up on deck to work. At night they were returned to the hold. This was as much for their own protection as punishment. Pirates were a strange and unpredictable breed. They might have already forgotten the incident aboard the Portuguese ship, or some of them might be holding a grudge. In the grip of sleep, a man's throat is an easy target for a skilled blade.

  Neither Clint nor Hugh were particularly concerned about the prospect of being hanged. In a sense, they had both looked at death too many times and had come away unscathed to take it too seriously.

  "Look at it this way," Hugh told Clint. "You're finally going to get to meet Lafitte!"

  As for shooting the old Portuguese woman, Hugh found himself not so easily removed. He'd had no time to think about it when it happened, but in the darkness of the hold the scene replayed itself again and again. Despite the heat, she'd been wearing a long-sleeved, black dress, with gray stripes running the length of it and white ruffles at the sleeves and at the neck. Her hair was up, in a bun. Something about her reminded Hugh of his own grandmother.

  She had been very frightened, for herself as well as for her husband. Three of the pirates had surrounded her. One man held her while another was ripping back her dress. She didn't resist. She saw Hugh approach her. At the sight of the pistol her eyes grew wide. He pulled the trigger from less than two feet away. Shock registered on her face and then she fell...

  Hugh was certain that shooting the old woman was the best thing he could do, the most merciful. It didn't completely stop him from being plagued by guilt over it.

  Accepting guilt seemed to have become his pastime.

  ***

  Campeche hadn't changed. It was still there, at Galveston Island, waiting. There were no crowds, though, waiting and eager to set up a new fight for Clint, no beautiful women to seduce him. There was only a gibbet.

  "Don't worry," Hugh told him, "they'll enjoy your performance just as much there as in the ring. This is a very loyal audience."

  The thought didn't seem to cheer Clint much.

  Renoux had gone ashore and returned, and now most of the crew were gone. Only a few hapless crew members remained aboard for security. The Madalaine lay at anchor in the channel between Galveston Island and the mainland, about a halfmile from shore. Hugh and Clint were in her hold. Hugh was lying on some burlap bags that were filled with coffee beans. The beans molded around him, creating a very comfortable bed. The roll of the ship and the gentle lapping of waves against the hull relaxed him, and he dozed...

  It was Christmas again. Sarah was at the stove, cooking chicken and dumplings. She was a good cook. The smell warmed him. Their two boys, Wes and Phil, were in front of the hearth, playing with the toy carts Hugh had built for them. Hugh was at the kitchen table, repairing a stool. Something about Sarah bothered him. She was quiet and withdrawn, a little sad. Hugh knew why she was that way, he was getting ready to go to sea again. Still, it made him feel anxious.

  There was a knock at the door. It was a loud knock, strong and unhurried. Someone in authority. Hugh got up to answer it. No one was there. Concerned, he closed the door and sat down. As soon as he sat down, the knock came again. Hugh looked at the door. It was illogical, but Hugh had a strange feeling that something terrible was out there.

  Again the knock, this time louder and more insistent. Hugh opened the door. Again, nothing. What was going on? Worried, he closed the door.

  Once more the knock came. Hugh was starting to feel afraid. Carefully, he opened the door.

  Nothing.

  Cautiously, he stepped outside. Something was wrong. His yard was gone. So were the houses that sat next to his. No lights shown anywhere. In fact, the whole town was gone. Hugh was standing in a wooded area, next to a stream. It was beautiful here, really beautiful, but for some reason Hugh was more afraid than he could ever remember being.

  Hugh turned to go
back inside, but his house was gone. He sat up, choking and gasping for breath.

  "Are you all right?" Clint's voice. They were in the dark of the hold, aboard the Madalaine. Despite the heat, Hugh was bathed in an icy sweat.

  "Are you all right?" Clint repeated.

  "I-we ...the dream. It was just a dream..."

  Suddenly he stood up. "We have to get out of here!"

  "Hah! Not much chance of that. We're locked in."

  "I don't care. We have to find a way out. We have to escape."

  "And where will we escape to? We're a mile from land. If we managed to get off the Madalaine and swim to shore without being eaten by sharks, we'd like as not end up in a Karankawa stew. No thanks. I prefer to take my chances here."

  "Then you'll die. Lafitte isn't going to show us any mercy. We killed two of our own crew members and refused a direct order from our Captain. He'll make an example of us."

  Clint thought about that.

  "Well, I suppose you're right," he said finally, "but it doesn't change the fact that we're still locked in here."

  "True, but if we're looking, an opportunity may present itself."

  And so they waited. An hour later the hatch opened and the diffused light of dusk flooded in.

  "Ahoy, mates!" It was Willie Brandt. "Come on up. Cap'n wants to see you!"

  ***

  Renoux was quite cool and formal with them at first. He told them their trial was to be held the next day and that, most likely, they would be hanged the following morning.

  "Do you have anything you want to say?" he asked them.

  Clint looked at Hugh. Hugh shrugged.

  "Not really," Hugh told him.

  Renoux was silent for a moment. Finally, he looked at Hugh.

  "You were never one of us," he said accusingly. "Never. This one," he indicated Clint, "this one we might have turned, but not you. Never you." Renoux sighed with exasperation. "Why could you not just kill the prisoners? Why did you have to defy me? You didn't save them--you knew they would die anyway. Why? The two priests died that very night!"

  Hugh didn't answer.

  "Very well," Renoux said after a minute. He looked tired. "Tomorrow you will he taken to Campeche. You will never leave. You men, both of you, have served well aboard this ship, at least until now. Tonight, you will have the freedom of the ship. If you try to leave the ship, you will be shot. There is nowhere for you to go. If you made it to shore, the Karankawas would get you. There is no help for you anywhere within a thousand miles."

  ***

  Gradually, even the noise from the island quieted down. Silent as shadows, the two men slipped over the side of the Madalaine and into the water. It was not an exceptionally long swim and the water was warm. God willing, they would make it. As they moved away from the ship, Hugh heard a familiar voice call out softly, "Luck, brothers!"

  It was Willie. There would be Hell to pay for all of them if anyone heard him, but the ship remained silent. Hugh and Clint continued to swim toward the mainland uninterrupted.

  They came ashore at high tide. Pausing for only a moment to catch their breath, the two men moved inland. Hugh took one last look at the sea before starting out, and wondered if he would ever set foot on the deck of a ship again.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ON THE evening of the fourth day, Hugh suddenly realized he was a free man again.

  They had been traveling at night, sleeping during the day, and staying in the water to avoid leaving any tracks. Earlier that evening, they had finally left Galveston Bay and had moved into a river that would take them north--and through Karankawa territory. They had been pushing a tree limb as they went. Ahead of them, Hugh noticed three other logs moving in their direction.

  "I think we need to get out of the water," he told Clint. The younger man agreed. Both of them had seen alligators before. Both men knew that to stay in the water meant death.

  "Damn!" Clint swore good naturedly, climbing onto the riverbank. "Seems wherever we go here, something wants to eat us!"

  "Yes," Hugh agreed, grinning, "but think of it! You'd be dying a free man!"

  "Aye! I probably taste better this way." Clint looked around. "Snakes, alligators, indians... I don't think the odds are greatly in our favor."

  Hugh grunted. "I don't know if this is the time to tell you this," he said, "but the odds have not been in our favor for almost two years now. Come on, let's keep moving."

  Traveling by land, they were able to make good time. They stayed near the river, following it upstream as it wound northward. They had eaten little since they left the ship. The day before they had found a berry bush. Neither of them knew if the berries were edible. Starving, they had taken a chance, but it was much too early in the year. The berries were sour. Still, Hugh wished he had some now. It felt as though his stomach were gnawing on his backbone. At sunup they stopped, found a place to hide for the day, and slept.

  ***

  Hugh awoke in mid-afternoon. It was hot. His body was sore from sleeping on the ground. His stomach ached from hunger.

  Clint was already awake. He sat looking out at the water, thinking. When he saw that Hugh was awake he nodded.

  "I've counted three snakes and two alligators," he told Hugh. "How long?"

  "About an hour."

  "What kind of snakes?"

  "I don't know. I think one was a copperhead."

  They were silent for awhile. Finally, Clint spoke again. "These moccasins were a good idea," he said. Hugh nodded.

  "Hartley had them in his store in Campeche. He had eight pair. I bought two for ten cents apiece. Figured if we ever decided to swim for it we wouldn't want to drag shoes along."

  "You were right."

  They were silent again. Hugh had begun to doze when he heard Clint ask, "Do you think we'll make it?"

  "I don't know," Hugh answered without opening his eyes. "We've made it this far. A moment later Clint said, "I don't think I'm going to make it." Hugh opened his eyes again.

  "I don't know," Clint continued. "I have this creepy feeling. I've never felt this way before."

  "You've just been watching snakes too long," Hugh said and closed his eyes again.

  "Maybe," Clint acknowledged. "Maybe."

  Hugh woke again just before sundown. Clint was sleeping. Moving carefully, Hugh worked his way down to the water's edge to get a drink. He drank quickly, feeling exposed. Then he headed back toward the clump of trees that had been their refuge. He had taken only a few steps when he saw a dark, slender form sliding through the grass ahead of him.

  Clint's right, he thought. There are a lot of snakes here.

  Looking around, he sighted a large stick, about four feet long, with a crook at one end. The stick was about two inches thick. Snapping it up, he ran to where the snake was and hit it.

  That proved to be a mistake. Immediately, the snake struck at him. Using the stick like he would a sword, Hugh managed to parry the strike, knocking the snake's head away when it was only an inch away from biting his foot. The snake withdrew, coiling to strike again, hissing at him. For the first time, Hugh saw the snow-white interior of the reptile's mouth.

  So, he thought. You're a cotton-mouth!

  The snake struck again, missing. As it tried to withdraw, Hugh struck it on the head with the stick. Then he struck it five more time, in rapid succession.

  That night, before setting out, they decided to risk, and managed to create a small fire.

  ***

  Night after night they continued northward, following the river. When the river began to angle to the west they struck out across the desert-like plain. They were in luck. Before they had traveled half the evening they crossed a small stream, which they were able to follow north until it opened into a lake. Hugh couldn't believe the amount of game they encountered. Though novices at hunting, with no weapons save for rocks and an unseasoned bow that Clint made, they managed to feed themselves pretty well.

  Night after night they traveled. Their plan was t
o head north and slightly east, then go due east until they came to the Missouri River. Then they could follow the river south until they came again to civilization, which would most likely be St. Louis. Hugh thought it would take them three to four weeks to get to that city, but he was wrong.

  It would take him almost four years.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  GRADUALLY, THE terrain had changed. What had been desert-like plain gave way to rolling prairie, with tall grass and wildflowers that seemed to stretch on endlessly. After awhile, though, even this changed, and the two men found themselves in heavily wooded hills. For three weeks they traveled north. Twice, roving groups of indians came within a stone's throw of where Clint and Hugh lay hiding. Both times the indians passed them by. There was no way for either Clint or Hugh to know what indians these were, or if they were friendly or hostile. The safest thing was to assume that any indians they met would be hostile and, as such, try to avoid them. Yet, as each night passed and they found themselves bedding down for the day, safe and unharmed, the two men found it impossible not to breathe a little easier.

  "One more week," Hugh told Clint as they settled in for the day. "One more week and we'll be out of this--if not back to St. Louis. If we start moving east tonight, we should cut across the Missouri in a couple of days. Then all we have to do is build a raft and let the water take us to a town."

  "It almost seems too good too be true," Clint sighed. "A normal life again! It's too bad that we'll be arriving in St. Louis without any money. It'd be grand to live it up!"