CHAPTER XI
TOM HIDES IN A RIVER BANK--EATS RAW FISH--JIM GRAYSON AIDS HIM--DOWN THE JAMES RIVER ON A TREE--PASSING THE PATROL BOATS--CANNONADED--THE END OF THE VOYAGE.
Tom had made up his mind how he would try to reach the Union lines. Ashe had escaped before from the locomotive-foray by pushing boldly intothe enemy's country, so he would do now. He would try his luck infollowing the James River to the sea, for off the river's mouth he knewthere lay a squadron of Northern ships, blockading Hampton Roads. The"Merrimac's" attempt of March, 1862, had never been repeated. Our flagwas still there, in these February days of 1864, and Tom knew it. He hadresolved to seek it there.
He explained his plan to his three comrades. They would steal a boat,row or drift down the James by night, hide and sleep by day, forage forfood upon the rich plantations, many of them the historic homes ofVirginia, that bordered the broad river, and finally float to freedomwhere our war-ships lay. But the three men would have nothing to do withit. By land the Union lines were much nearer. They meant to stick to theland. They asked the boy to go with them, but he stuck to his plan. So,with hearty handshakes and a whispered "good luck!" he left them, wentover a canal-bridge, and found himself upon the bank of the river. Hewas again alone.
Of his three temporary companions, one finally reached our lines, onewas shot within a few hundred yards of his goal, and one was recaptured.Of the 109 who escaped from Libby, 48 were caught and thrust back intoprison.
Tom walked along the river bank, prying in the welcome darkness for aboat. It would not have been difficult to steal it, if he could havefound it. But at this point the James is wide and shallow and full ofminiature rapids. It was utterly bare of boats. The boy's search couldnot be carried on after dawn. He spent that day hidden in a clump ofwillows by the waterside. The excitement of the night had kept him up.Now the reaction from it left him limp and miserable and hungry as henever remembered being hungry before. It was hard work to "grin and bearit," but at least he tried to grin and he reminded himself a thousandtimes through that long, long day that he was much better off than if hewere still a prisoner in Libby.
That night he followed the bank until he was below the city, stillwithout finding a boat. There had been plenty of boats along this partof the river the morning before, but as soon as the escape from Libbyhad been discovered, all boats had been seized by the militaryauthorities, to prevent their being used by the fugitives. They had beentaken to a point below the town. As Tom wormed himself cautiously nearthis point, very cautiously, for he heard voices upon the bank above hishead, and also the crackle of a camp-fire, he saw in the gray dawn aflotilla of boats just below him. At first sight, his heart leaped intohis mouth with joy. At the second sight, it sank down into his boots.For above the boats he saw a big Confederate camp and beyond them he sawa half-dozen small craft, negroes at the oars and armed men at bow andstern, patrolling the river. Hope left him. He crawled into ahiding-place in the bank. He was so hungry that he cried. But not forlong. Stout hearts do not yield to such weakness long. If he could notescape in a boat fashioned by man's hands, why not in one fashioned byGod? The early spring freshets of the James were making the river higherevery hour. He saw in cautious peeps from the hole where he had hiddengreat trees from far-off forests, uprooted there by the high water, comeplunging down mid-channel like battering rams. He noted that thepatrol-boats gave these dangerous monsters a wide berth. If a trunk of atree were to ram them or if the far-flung branches were to strike them,their next patrol would be at the bottom of the river. On a sandbank nota hundred yards from the boy's lair a big oak had stranded. It layquite still now, but it evidently would not do so for many hours, forthe rising water lapped higher and higher against it. Tom made up hismind that that tree should be his boat--if only it were still there whenit was dark enough for him to swim out to it. Through the daylight hourshe watched it with lynx eyes, fearing lest it were swept along towardsthe sea before he could shelter himself in it. And through thesedaylight hours he grew ever more faint with hunger, until he toldhimself that he must have food, at any risk, at any cost. Without thestrength it would give, he felt he could not possibly swim even thehundred yards that lay between him and the now tossing tree. There istruth in the line:
"Fate cannot harm me; I have dined today."
It is too much to do to face Fate on an empty stomach. Napoleon saidthat an army traveled on its belly. Men must have food if they are tomarch and fight.
A Confederate soldier sauntered along the shore and stopped just infront of the boy's hiding-place. He had a rude fish-pole. Either he knewhow to fish, or the James River fish were very hungry. A string of adozen hung from his shoulder. The sight of them was too much for Tom tostand. A raw fish seemed to him the most toothsome morsel in the world.He knew he was courting certain capture, but he was starving. He wouldpretend to be a Confederate himself. He spoke to the soldier, not out ofthe fullness of his heart, but out of the emptiness of his stomach.
"I'm hungry," he said, "give a fellow a fish, will you?"
The soldier turned with a start. He was a tall, gaunt man, an EastTennessee mountaineer, who had started to join the Union army when aConfederate conscript-officer seized him and sent him South, underguard, to serve the cause he had meant to fight against. East Tennesseewas, as a rule, loyal to the Union. The men from there who were found inthe Confederate army were like the poor peons who are supposed to"volunteer" in the Mexican army. "I send you fifty volunteers," wrote aMexican mayor to a Mexican general, "please return me the ropes." JimGrayson had not been tied up with a rope, but he had had a bayonetbehind him, when he was put into the Confederate ranks. He was a man ofintelligence and of rather more education than most of his fellowmountaineers. Many of them could not even read and write. Grayson hadlearned both at a "deestrik skule" and had actually had a year, aprecious year, at a "high skule." The last thing he had read beforestarting to fish that morning had been the printed handbills that hadbeen flung broadcast by the Confederate authorities, announcing theescape of 108 men and one boy from Libby Prison and offering rewards fortheir recapture. And the first thing he thought as he saw Tom in hishole in the bank was that he was probably the boy of the handbills. Hemeant to give the fellow a fish, of course, but if he found the fellowwas that boy he also meant to do what he could to help him go where hehimself wanted to go, to the Union lines.
"Sholy, I'll give you a fish," he said. "You can have all you want. I'lllight a fire and cook some for you."
"I can't wait," gasped Tom, wolf-hunger in his gleaming eyes. "I'mstarving."
He tried to reach out for the fish and collapsed in utter weakness. Withfood at last within his grasp, he was too far gone to take it. JimGrayson had been very hungry more than once in his thirty years of hardlife. He saw that Tom was telling the truth.
"Hush," he whispered, for he had caught sight of some fellow soldiers onthe bank, not a hundred feet away. "Hush, sumbuddy's comin'. You mus'take little pieces first. I'll cut one up for you."
He was drawing out his knife from a deep pocket when the soldiersstopped on the bank above their heads and shouted down, asking him togive them some fish too.
"Sholy," laughed Jim. "Here's some for you-uns."
He tossed half a dozen up to them and then sat down at the mouth of thehole that sheltered Tom, thinking to hide him in case the others camedown the bank. His back was towards the boy. What was left of his catchhung within two inches of Tom's nose. That was Tom's chance. He tore offa couple of little fish and tore them to bits with his teeth. His firstsensation was one of deathly sickness; his next one of returningstrength. Grayson twitched the remaining fish into his lap. He knew theboy had already had too much food, for a first meal. Meanwhile he waschatting cheerily with his fellow soldiers, who fortunately did not comedown the bank and soon moved off, leaving Jim and Tom alone. Now was thetime for explanations.
"Don't be afeard," said Jim, with a kindly smile. "I 'low you be TomStrong, bean't you? I guess you was
in Libby day afore yisterday. Iain't goin' to give you up. I'm Union, I be, ef I do wear Secesh gray.How kin I help you?"
The sense of safety, safety at least for the moment, was too much forTom. He could not speak.
"Thar, thar," Jim went on, "it's all right. Jes' tell me what I can do.I'll bring you eatins soon ez night comes, but what'll you do then?"
Tom told him what he hoped to do then. It was a wild scheme to floatdown nearly two hundred miles of river through a hostile country, butyet it offered a chance of success. And if there was a chance of successfor the boy, why not for the man?
"Ef so be's ez you'se sot on it," Jim said, at the end of the talk, "Ivum I'll run the resk with you. You ain't no ways fit to start offalone. Ef you have to hist that thar tree into the James River, youcudn't a-do it. I kin. 'N ef you wuz all alonst, you mout fall off'n bedrownded. We-uns'll go together. 'N then I'll hev a chanst to fight ferthe old Union."
Tom was only too glad of the promised company. It was arranged that Jimwas to come to him as soon as possible after nightfall, with whateverprovisions he could lay his hands upon, and that then they were to getaway on the queer craft Providence seemed to have prepared for them,provided only that Providence did not send the big tree swirlingsouthward to the sea before they could reach it. The river was nowconsiderably higher. It was tugging hard at its prey. Sometimes the treeshook with the impact of the rushing waves as if it had decided to letgo the sandbank forthwith. If it did go before nightfall, they must tryto find another. There were always others in sight, but they were faraway in mid-channel, floating swiftly seaward. How could one of these bereached, if their fellow on the sandbank joined them? There was nothingto be done, however, except to wait. Tom's waiting was solaced by theeating of the rest of the fish. Man and boy agreed that the man mustloiter there no longer. Making a fire would delay him beyond roll-call.So Jim went and Tom again ate raw fish, trying to do so slowly, but notmaking a great success of that. He felt as if he could eat a whale.
Darkness came only a few minutes before Jim Grayson did. He brought withhim a bundle of food, upon part of which Tom forthwith supped. He alsobrought his gun. "I'm a deserter now, you see," he explained to the boy,"and I'll be shot ef so be I'm caught. But ef I be caught, I'll shootsome o' they-uns fust."
They could dimly see the outlines of the big tree, now tossing in thewaves that broke above the submerged sandbank, as if it were strugglingto be free. They swam out to it, Jim strongly, Tom weakly. They reachedit none too soon. Ten minutes later it would have started of its ownaccord. Jim's task in "histing" it was easy. They were afloat at once.The top of the tree, a mass of bare branches, for the tiny tender leavesof the early Southern spring had been swept away by the water, formedthe bow of their craft. They both perched far back, leaning against thetangled roots. Jim gave a final push with one dangling foot and theywere off. That was all Tom knew for some time. He had fallen asleep assoon as he had snuggled securely into his place. He did not know it whenthey swept through the cordon of patrol-boats below, which hastened togive room to the vast battering ram. He did not even know that Jim's armheld him in place as the tree lurched and wobbled on its downward road.A few hours afterwards, he awoke, refreshed and hopeful, a new man, orrather a new boy. The night was clear. The outlines of both shores werevisible. A young moon added its feeble light to the brilliant radianceof the stars.
"Where are we?" whispered Tom. He knew the human voice carries a greatdistance over water and while there seemed to be no one who couldoverhear, he would run no unnecessary risk.
"I never sailed no river before," Jim cheerily answered, "'n I dun knownothin' 'bout the Jeems River, but I 'low we've come 'bout a thousandmile. 'N it's nigh sun-up. How'll we-uns git to sho' 'n hide?"
"If we did that," said Tom, "we'd have to give up our ship. Don't let usdo that. Let's say what Captain Lawrence said: 'Don't give up the ship!'We'll call her the 'Liberty' and sail her down to Hampton Roads. We canhide in the branches or the roots if we meet anybody on the river.Everybody will give us a wide berth. We have some food, thanks to you.Forty-eight hours more will see us through."
"All right, Captain," Jim Grayson replied. "You're the commander."
Up to that time, the Confederate private had been in command of theexpedition, but now that the Union officer was himself again, he tookcharge of everything, much to Jim's content and also, we must admit,much to Tom's content.
The good ship "Liberty," Tom Strong, captain, Jim Grayson, mate, made aprosperous voyage. Its crew was thoroughly scared three or four times bythe sight of Confederate craft, small and large. When a gunboat selectedit as a floating target and plumped half-a-dozen cannon balls around it,the crew thought the end had come. But nobody on the gunboat saw thetwo people cowering amid the branches of the tree. The gunners wereuntrained. Their aim was poor. And powder and cannon-balls were not soabundant in the Confederacy that the practice-firing could continuelong. Early on the third morning of the voyage, they were in HamptonRoads, borne by the ebbing tide towards the Union squadron that layunder the guns of Fortress Monroe. As the sun rose above the horizon,our flag sprang to the mastheads of the ships. Tom felt like echoingUncle Mose's triumphant phrase: "De Stars 'n de Stripeses, dey jestkivered de sky."
The "Liberty" would have gone straight out to sea, so far as any controlby its crew was concerned. It did go out to sea, indeed, but not untilafter Tom and Jim had been taken from it by a boat from the Admiral'sship. Jim had fired off his gun to attract attention, as the "Liberty"neared the squadron, and then he and Tom had both stood up on theteetering trunk of their tree and shouted and waved their shirts, whichthey had taken off for that purpose, as they had nothing else to wave,until help came. The "Liberty" had brought them to liberty. They saidgood-by to her almost with regret. But their joy was deep when theystood on the deck of the flagship, under the flag of the free.