CHAPTER VIII. THE MOUTH OF THE BIG HALCHEE.
Werner was sitting upon the narrow gallery which surrounded the Boiler-deck of the Diana,[24] and Schwarz had taken his seat beside him, on a green-varnished camp-stool, which he bent back as far as he could, in order to be enabled to plant his feet at the same time firmly against the nearest pillar. But the scenery of the Mississippi had materially changed since they had quitted the more southern climate of Louisiana. Those splendid, wide-spread plantations which pressed back the old forest far, far, into the blue distance, and from whose well-fenced fields the feather-like sugar-canes or the stubborn cotton-plants had hitherto met their gaze on the boundless plains on every side, were gone. And with them had disappeared those comfortably arranged planters' dwellings, embosomed in flowers, and orange and pomegranate trees; gone were the tulip and fig-trees; gone the dam on the water's edge, behind which numerous flocks had grazed, and upon which, now and then, the heads and broad-brimmed straw-hats of dark-eyed Creoles had been visible, who, reining in their ponies for awhile, had stopped to admire the speed of the steamer that dashed past them. The little showily-painted boats, with their gaudy flags, which, lower down, had enlivened the prospect, were no longer to be seen, and the forest, the tall, mighty, unconquered forest, overran the land, to the margin of the steep and crumbling shore, and often even beyond it, out into the eddying foaming flood. It was only here and there that, in some nook of the dark and silent woods, there stood the shanty of some solitary cordwood-cutter, around which a regular clearing was but rarely to be seen, and that, perhaps, scarcely fenced in; but, instead, high piles of cordwood, often several hundred yards in extent, testified to the industry of the labourer working there in solitude, and who was but rarely linked to a world from which he seemed to have fled by some steamer stopping here at distant intervals for wood.
"But how can any one think of settling in such a melancholy, desolate place?" said Werner, breaking silence, at last, after a long pause, just as the Diana was heaving up the waves from her paddles towards the western shore, till they almost washed the threshold of a hut standing near—"the surrounding swamps must poison the air."
"Certainly," opined Helldorf, "it is a melancholy life they lead who dwell here; but they chiefly view it as means to an end, and therefore put up with it for a year or two, or even for half-a-dozen years."
"And for what end?" asked Werner.
"To earn enough money to enable them to settle in a healthier district, and to buy some little property with what they earn here."
"But why don't the people go to such a spot at once, when land can be had everywhere so readily, as you say; why do they risk having a sickly body when the 'far West' lies open to them, only waiting for the plough?"
"And there are reasons for that too," said Schwarz. "You, no doubt, remember that I have related to you, with how little a man may begin life in the woods; but that little be must have, else he has to contend with too many and too painful obstacles. I can, were I to go now, with an axe and a rifle into the woods, found a home for myself; I can chop trees for my log-house; manage to subsist awhile on dried venison;[25] raise my dwelling with the assistance of my neighbours, and make a couple of acres fit for tillage; that is, I fell the smaller trees which are standing upon it and girdle the rest."
"Girdle?"
"Yes; they call it girdling, when they chop out the bark in a ring, for a hand's breadth or so, round a tree, and which is chiefly practised with very thick trees;[26] then grub up the worst roots; and now I have got my land, what Americans call, fit for ploughing. But where is the plough? There is no money to buy it, and I must borrow it, as well as a horse to draw it. Neighbours will certainly do that, and willingly, too. They assist the settler with all their power, and not unfrequently make the greatest sacrifices for him. But that has not got me out of my difficulties, for now I want seed to sow my field; I want a hoe to earth up the growing stalks of Indian corn; I have to plough again from time to time; I require cooking utensils,—chisels,—augers,—nails. I haven't even a hand-mill to grind the borrowed Indian corn, but must trouble my neighbour for that, too. To-day I want a chain,—to-morrow an iron wedge,—the next day this,—the day after, that, and it does not cease; there is no end of borrowing; so that the neighbours, let them be the most good-natured souls in the world, yet at last must lose patience, and shun the person who merely comes upon their farm to borrow, first one thing and then another, in order that they may not be compelled to give him a refusal.
"All that can be met by a small but reasonably applied capital. When one is in a position to procure the most necessary things, there is no fear afterwards; the circumstances of the farmer improve, although slowly perhaps, yet surely, from year to year, and he may constantly look forward, for himself and his family, to a future free from care. But, to expend the little capital in a really reasonable manner, that is the stumbling-block over which most emigrants, or rather immigrants, fall. They frequently come over to America with not inconsiderable property, but then generally suppose—especially if they have much money—that they can buy the whole world, and allow themselves to be drawn into heedless speculations, of which, as they are ignorant of the country and the language, they understand nothing, and into which they are, for the most part, enticed by designing knaves, who are on the look out for such prey. They afterwards, when it is too late, find out how the swindler, who now laughs at them for their stupidity, was merely intent on appropriating to himself their good money, whilst he was making seductive representations of quickly-to-be-acquired riches; and the more difficult for them does it subsequently become, when they are thrown back upon their personal resources, to begin what, to a certain extent, is a new course of life, and a very unaccustomed and hard course, too.
"Those who come over with small sums have the advantage, at least in this, that from the time of their leaving home, forward, they have not been in a position to form such great pretensions, and therefore, when they have lost that little, they are more easily reconciled to the idea of beginning afresh."
"You seem to assume indisputably, and as a matter of course," said Werner, laughing, "that emigrants must really first lose all that they have brought with them!"
"Certainly," Schwarz replied, drily; "for it happens at least ninety-three times out of a hundred, and the remaining seven you will surely allow me to class as exceptions. But experience will show you the truth of what I am telling you, when you shall have been a little longer in the country. Nearly all the Germans, who have got on here, have come over poor; and if you should see two persons arrive, the one with a thousand dollars, the other without a thousand pfennings,[27] I will wager anything that the poor man shall be the first of the two to become wealthy, or at all events independent."
"According to that doctrine, money would be of no advantage, then," said Werner, shaking his head.
"Of the greatest," Schwarz replied; "but he who possesses it must know how to keep it back. Take my word for it, my dear Werner, that if a man sets foot in this country with a hundred dollars, and lays them out immediately, they are worth nothing to him; but, if he wears them sewed up round his body for three or four years, or if he buries them, he will discover that at the end of that period he possesses in them a little treasure, with which he can commence a new and promising mode of life, in a great many different ways."
"But the idea of burying money! It would surely be better to deposit it in some bank."
"Yes, if you want to get rid of it. The devil trust the banks; to-day they pay silver for their rags—to-morrow they don't even give you half the amount for them. No, no; the banks may be all very well for those people who are accurately acquainted with their business and circumstances, and at least have the means of knowing when they risk something, and when not. But let the newly-arrived emigrant, for Heaven's sake, abstain from throwing his good money into these maws of speculation; else he may have to rue his imprudence when it is too late."
"That throws us back again to my old position," said Werner; "if individuals are really so threatened by dangers on all sides, as you tell me, it must surely be best to begin in large societies or colonies, wherein the interests of all the members can be confided to experienced persons."
"In order to be cheated in company," said Schwarz, with a laugh. "Say no more about your unlucky colonies; they never come to a good end, unless the people are influenced by a stern fanatical despotism, acting upon them by means of superstition and religious excitement. Such communities, it is true, are to be found, and some among them there are, in this country, which may be classed with the most blooming and the richest of our settlements; but Heaven preserve us from a life, where mind as well as body is bound in fetters which become tighter and more galling every day. No; we have not come to America for that; we want to enjoy freedom, the greatest blessing which this splendid country possesses; but a colony would just be the greatest and most insuperable hindrance. But I will tell you why, from the very nature of the thing, no German colony, unless under the condition just alluded to,—religious tyranny,—can exist. The different stages of refinement in which people are found in our blessed Germany, are the chief cause. Let them begin with the best intentions of concord and public spirit,—let their will be ever so good,—yet in the long run they don't agree among themselves; unintentionally there arise various little cliques, not exactly of those who are of similar opinions, but of similar education; for he who formerly occupied himself with literature and the fine arts, will always, let him set to work as hard as he pleases, like to devote his hours of leisure not only to chat about cattle and merely mechanical matters, but will also like to converse about something which shall occupy his mind, and, in some degree, recompense him for the now merely material life. But, generally speaking, the less educated man feels himself hurt by this; for as he takes no interest in such conversations himself, he can seldom comprehend how others can do so.
"A feeling, unknown perhaps to himself, awakes within him. He thinks himself neglected, and considers those men proud who are only mentally his superiors. From this moment forward all their steps are sharply watched, and it does not remain unnoticed that, as their limbs will not immediately adapt themselves to the unaccustomed occupation, the hard country work, they do less work than the rest. A breach has arisen in their friendly relations which becomes wider every day. The old mischievous saying, 'All are equal here in America,' comes into use more and more frequently and pointedly, and even if those who wish well to the colony do everything in their power to allay the angry feeling, and to restore friendly relations among them, which have been disturbed, nobody knows how, yet it is of no use, good will is gone, a hard, thoughtless word, from one of the 'gentry,' as they already begin to be called, which, perhaps, he never meant himself, gives the finishing touch, and some fine morning Peter clears out this way, Paul that.
"Those who possessed the least now come off the best; all the sacrifices made by the founders are forgotten; they must not calculate upon gratitude, and soon find themselves alone again."
"It would be best, then, for persons of the same way of thinking, and of the same style of education, only to join in the formation of such a colony; the objection to which you allude would thereby be obviated."
"It would, to be sure; but a thousand others arise," continued Schwarz; "just imagine a party issuing from Germany consisting of nothing but—I will assume even—country people, acquainted with one another—there shall not be among them a single gentleman farmer who is accustomed to have bailiffs and servants under him—just imagine them—left to their own resources in a country of which they do not understand even the language, much less the manners and customs, the poor devils would be surrounded by knaves and speculators directly; and even assuming that such colonists really should hold firmly and inseparably together, and should not allow themselves to be cheated in any way, (which is very improbable,) still they would not advance a step; and thus, going from one extreme to another, for the very reason that they did not speculate at all—indeed, could not speculate—they would resemble cattle tethered to a barren heath, although beautiful green pastures might be spread out around them. If any good were to be done with such colonies, my dear friend, you may rest assured that the Americans, who must be best fitted for them, would have discovered and realized it themselves. But they know better; they stand there singly, free and independent, and a German should follow their example in this respect, as he is compelled to do in a thousand other things."
Werner looked out upon the yellow waters, reflectively, for some time, and after a short pause, asked—
"And what do you advise me to do, then?"
"Come with me," said Schwarz. "I am going to the southern part of Missouri; there I shall purchase a little improvement—that is to say, a place where one of the restless and ever westward-moving Americans has worked before, and where I need not be obliged to clear land for the first year's crop at all events. We'll seek for a little place for yourself somewhere in the neighbourhood, buy cattle as soon as we get there, so as to lose no time in rearing them, and then you may as well work for a few months, or even for a year, as may be agreeable to us both, upon my land; at the expiration of that time, I hope to have brought you so far that you may commence on your own account, and then the sooner you fetch home your bride the better."
"Oh, my dear Schwarz!—you paint the future much too brightly; I don't even hope to be so near to the fulfilment of my wishes."
"Well, we shall see," said Schwarz, laughing—"we shall see. But where has Helldorf got to? he hasn't shown himself the whole morning; we must be nearly there."
"He was sitting above, on the hurricane deck, beside the pilot," replied Werner. "Shall we go up?"
At this moment, the large ship-bell gave the signal for landing; the boat, too, approached the shore more and more, and there, in the shade of enormous cotton-wood trees and cypresses, stood an insignificant little log hut, almost concealed by immense piles of cordwood, and making its presence known merely by the blue smoke which arose from its clay-plashed chimney into the clear morning air.
The boat landed; across the planks, which were quickly shoved out, hurried away labourers, firemen, and deckhands, who were followed, although more slowly, urged on by rough language from the mate of the vessel, by the deck passengers, who, on board other boats, when they undertook to carry wood, merely had somewhat less to pay for their passage, but, on board the "Diana," were carried gratis, so that the task of wood-carrying should be speedily accomplished, and the journey not thereby delayed; it being important for that vessel to preserve her reputation as the fastest boat on the Mississippi.
It was a strange, bustling kind of life which thus suddenly intruded itself on the quiet forest hermitage. The clerk or business-man of the vessel, with a long measuring pole in his hand, sprang upon the piled up wood, and there measured off a certain number of cords, the boundary of which was marked by a couple of logs laid crosswise; the impatient workpeople then fell upon the cordwood like vultures on their prey, and hurried, each man with his load of six or seven long logs, down the steep bank again, on board, where they threw down the wood, and where other men stood in readiness to pile it regularly up. There might be some forty persons in all, who, like busy ants, swarmed out in an almost uninterrupted line over one plank, and returned, loaded, on board again over the other; and within twelve minutes about twenty cord were got on board. The farmer or wood-cutter had meanwhile received his money in the cabin above, and he was just engaged in taking a drop of whisky-punch at the bar, when the bell rang again for starting, and he hastily jumped down, in order not to be carried off with the boat.
The last of the labourers snatched up the remaining logs; another loosened the stern rope, the farmer himself remained forward beside the spring rope; the cry, "All aboard!" was heard, and the planks, seized by others of the sailors or deck hands, flew back.
"Go ahead!" cried the captain, from the upper deck—the rope struck into the water—other sailors stood forward near the bowsprit, and shoved off her head with long poles; and soon after, she was panting once more away on her course up stream.
"Are we still far from the mouth of the Halchee?" inquired Werner of young Helldorf, who had exchanged a few words with the American cordwood cutter.
"Scarcely five miles; we may be there within an hour," replied the other; "but I scarcely think that we shall be able to reach the settlement itself this evening."
"We had, perhaps, on that account, better remain at the mouth of the river, and start from thence early to-morrow morning," Schwarz suggested; "then we shall have no occasion to sleep in the open air."
"But lose half a day"—Werner quickly interrupted him. "What harm will it do us if we should pass one night under the open sky? You are, no doubt, used to it, and it won't hurt me either; at worst, one can only catch cold."
"Well," said Schwarz, with a smile, "I have no objection: your impatience appears to me very natural—therefore, let it be so. But, Helldorf, hadn't you better go up to the pilot again, that we may not pass the place by mistake; that would be a joke!"
"No, no; the pilot has assured me that he knows the spot," said the latter, "and he will put us out there; but, by way of precaution, I'll remind him of it again. In the meanwhile, you two had better get our luggage down into the little yawl astern, so that we may not occasion any further delay to the vessel on that account."
He ascended the narrow stairs which led over the paddle-box; Schwarz and Werner in the meantime followed his advice, got their boxes and bags into the little boat, which was made fast astern by two stout ropes, and was towed after the steamer over the swelling waves, and then returned to the boiler-deck to await the stopping of the Diana.
They now passed a rounded point of land which projected far into the river, and continued to steer for a while along the eastern bank, in order to keep in the deeper channel, but then, just as a sandbank began to show its white surface at no great distance from them, the bow of the boat suddenly turned from the land, and kept a course obliquely across the stream towards the western shore.
"Yonder is another little river, falling into the Mississippi," said Schwarz, pointing from the starboard gallery of the boat back towards the land which they were leaving more and more, behind them—"yonder, where the bright roof of the log-hut stands out."
"You call that a river!" said Werner; "you are liberal with your fine names; three houses cannot stand near each other but you dub them a town. But how desert and wild the prospect looks here, the treacherous rolling stream with its flood of mud, the flat shores without a single eminence, the dead sandbank, which, like a winding-sheet, skirts the gloomy forest. I should not like to live here; the whole appearance of the country seems to tell of fever and misery."
"Yes, it is a miserable kind of life, sure enough, that on the banks of the Mississippi; though it is nothing to speak of just now; but in the time of the floods, when the river overflows its banks and inundates the whole country—you should pass then; the log huts standing on piles seem to swim upon the waters, the flood as it rises higher and higher lifts up their floor boards and washes them off, and not unfrequently even tears away the miserable little dwellings themselves in its greedy embrace, and carries them off towards the Gulf of Mexico.
"I really can't think how rational beings should like to settle here," said Werner, "for if——"
"There lies the Halchee," cried Helldorf, who now came running down from the hurricane deck, pointing astern to the very spot which had already attracted the attention of the two friends—"there lies our destination, and the confounded captain won't put us ashore!"
"What! not land us!" exclaimed Werner and Schwarz, jumping up from their seats, surprised.
"Oh, hang him!" said Schwarz; "he must land us; in the first place, we have not paid our fare beyond—and, secondly, we wont go any further——"
"Yes, all that is very well, but what are you to do with the captain of a steamer on board his own boat? there he is the most absolute of monarchs, and assumes to act with the utmost arbitrariness. It is true that you may 'summons' him at the next town, but that again is attended with so much trouble that one cannot make up one's mind to adopt it unless in an extremity."
"But that is shameful," said Werner, angrily; "he takes money for our passage, and then drags us past the place where we want to land. But, my dear Mr. Helldorf, may you not be mistaken? That can't be the mouth of the Big Halchee, for, according to what Dr. Normann told us, there should be a town there."
"Dr. Normann no doubt told you many things which were untrue," replied Helldorf, very gravely; "I fear, I fear that he has played another of his scoundrel tricks, and that with complete success. I ought not to have let him get off so quickly, but what could I do with him in New York without proofs."
"But what in the name of goodness are we to be at here?" cried Werner. "How much further is this self-willed gentleman going to drag us along with him!"
"Probably to the next town where he may stop, or perhaps, even to the next wood station."
"That would be pleasant," growled Schwarz; "we have only just now taken in wood enough to last us till evening at least. No, he must put us out before; probably the place at the Halchee was not convenient for him to stop, because he had to keep so far from shore on account of the sandbank, and would have been compelled to wait a long time for the return of the boat."
"Certainly, that was the reason," replied Helldorf; "and the pilot tells me that the captain has made a considerable wager that he will reach Louisville, which is 1400 miles from New Orleans, within six days. On that account it is that he takes deck-passengers for their services as wood-carriers merely, and only stops at those places where he is obliged."
"Then I'll speak to him," said Schwarz; "so that, at all events, he may not carry us too far. If we land at any little town, or at a farm even, we probably may be able to get a canoe with which to return the few miles."
Schwarz did as he proposed, but the swift boat carried them with great speed, for several hours more, away from their destination, and it was not until the Diana was rushing close past the eastern bank, and there, at a convenient spot for lying-to, found a considerable number of passengers, who had been waiting for the first steamer that should pass, that the captain gave the signal for putting out the boat. The three friends did not wait to be told twice, but quickly took their seats, and found themselves in a few seconds more on dry ground. Scarcely, however, had they touched the sand, before their boxes and bags were chucked after them, by the sailors, with the most amiable naiveté in the world; with as little ceremony did they get on board the luggage which belonged to the passengers who were taken up there, and which was lying ready, hurried the passengers themselves after it, and in a couple of minutes from their departure they were alongside their boat again. A rope was thrown to them, and whilst the passengers (among whom were some women) were left to get from the low boat aboard the high steamer as well as they could, the latter already dashed on again, panting and foaming wildly.
The proprietor of the farm where they stopped was then at the water's edge, whither he had accompanied the persons who had just left, and he received the three friends, who, as he naturally supposed, had come there on purpose to see him; for his little clearing lay in the midst of an immense reed-brake, and was not in any way connected, by land at least, with other places or settlements.
Helldorf soon explained to him the cause of this really very unintentional visit. Nevertheless, the farmer gave them a hearty welcome, and comforted them with the assurance that the Diana was not the only one of the fast boats which committed such arbitrary acts. He promised them, moreover, a good canoe, large enough to carry them and their effects down stream, only that they must get out of the way of the swell caused by the steamers, as that was dangerous to a deep going canoe, or hollowed-out tree stem.
This was cold comfort, certainly, but there was no choice, for they could not have got along by land, even had they been willing to leave their things in the lurch, a reed-brake in the Valley of the Mississippi being about the worst imaginable of impassable thickets or wildernesses. So, for a few dollars, they bought the little vessel, and were for putting their things aboard, and going off at once. But the farmer would not hear of this; it was dinner-time—dinner was waiting, as he said, on the table, and they should on no account leave his land hungry, particularly as they had a considerable journey before them, and it was doubtful besides whether they would be able to reach the mouth of the Halchee before darkness set in.
Werner, it is true, would have preferred starting at once, for he could get no rest or peace so near his sweetheart; on the other hand, his stomach spoke pretty distinctly in favour of the offer of the hospitable American, so they accompanied the latter to his dwelling, which was but a few hundred yards off, and where they were most heartily received by the mistress of the house, a very pretty, neat, and tidily-dressed—but rather pale and delicate-looking, little woman.
Here they remained for it might be an hour or more, and then they were obliged to take some Indian corn bread and cold turkey for the journey with them, in order, the young lady said, that they might not arrive there hungry again. But so quickly had they become acquainted with, and even attached to these good people, that after no more than an hour passed in their company, they already parted from them unwillingly. But time pressed, the journey which they had to make was a long one, and they wished, if possible, to reach the mouth of the Halchee before evening, at all events, in order to hear from the farmer residing there, whose country they had learned from their host, some particulars of the fortunes of the colony.
Their canoe, which, from its size, might even pretend to the name of a pirogue, was excellent, and bore them, while Helldorf steered, and Schwarz and Werner rowed, quickly down stream. But the warning to avoid the swell raised by steamers seemed to have been by no means unnecessary; for once, when they had not troubled themselves about a boat passing far away towards the opposite shore, the canoe narrowly escaped being swamped by the waves, although these were already much weakened by the distance. By dint of great exertions they managed to keep themselves above water, with the head of their little bark towards the swell which rolled in towards them, whilst the two rowers had as much as they could do to bale out the water that washed over the gunwale. Rendered cautious by this, they landed each time that they saw a steamer coming—and once, when the gigantic Louisiana rushed past them, they carried their boxes upon shore, for this powerful boat threw waves nearly eight feet in height upon the bank. These repeated stoppages delayed their progress very much, and, when the sun set, they had not yet reached the longed-for spot. But the moon shone down clearly from the blue firmament, and they knew that by hugging the eastern shore they could not very well miss the place itself, as the considerable sandbank above the mouth marked the neighbourhood distinctly enough. They reached it, accordingly, at last—glided past it—crossed the Halchee—and landed opposite the house, just where a tolerably thick cotton-wood tree had fallen with its top in the stream, while its root still rested above on the bank, and thereby warded aside the current, and, to a certain extent, whilst they lay close under its shade, formed a secure harbour for the boat.
They were about to go at once into the house, from the crevices of which a dim light issued, but another steamer coming up stream, warned them, first of all, to get their things into a place of safety; they carried them, therefore, up the bank, whilst the dogs lying near the house gave tongue, and announced the presence of strangers by barking and howling.
But the people in the house appeared to trouble themselves little about the noise, for no door was opened; and had not the fire glimmering within betrayed the vicinity of human beings, our party would have supposed the hut uninhabited.
"They seem to be very careless about robbers or thieves," said Helldorf, laughing, when they had carried up the last of their effects, and were going down to their pirogue again, to remain beside it until the approaching steamer had swept past, so that their rocking boat should not be washed away by the waves.
"There won't be much to steal there!" said Schwarz; "there is generally not much to be got from the farmers, but a bit of cold steel or a lump of hot lead, and the thievish gentry rather avoid them. Nobody has a lock on his door—a wooden bolt, shoved forward from the inside or outside, answers the same purpose, and affords as much security;—But, didn't you hear some one speak? The voice seemed to come from the banks of the Mississippi."
"I heard nothing," said Helldorf.
"Oh, yes, I did, distinctly," replied Schwarz; "probably 'tis from the people, or negroes, from the house here, who may be about to light a fire to induce the passing steamer to land, and take in wood."
But the steamer engaged their whole attention for the time, and not a word more was exchanged, for the colossus rushed nearer and nearer, and close behind it followed the foaming powerful waves, and rocked and beat about the crank boat so madly and wildly, that it was only with some exertion that the three men could protect it from them. But the waves disappeared as suddenly as they came; and Helldorf took hold of the long painter, which passed through a hole forward in the bow, and was just about to make it fast to the branch of a fallen tree, when he suddenly stopped in a listening posture, with his body advanced forward, and his hand raised. Immediately afterwards, the friends looked at each other in astonishment, for angry sounds, as of persons quarrelling, were heard in that direction; these were quickly succeeded by a half-suppressed cursing and groaning, and, in the next, by the report of a shot. The sound of hoofs of galloping horses next struck on the ear; it came nearer and nearer, and, about the moment when the horsemen must have reached the open space, a smart boat, rowed by one man only, glided out into the stream.
"Massa! take me 'long with you!—for God's sake take me 'long with you!"—cried a voice from the shore. But the man in the boat did not appear to heed it, but rowed on with evident exertion, and that right across the river, in doing which he was carried a little downwards by the current, which was not very rapid in that place.
The Germans had watched the whole proceeding with the most anxious interest, and in the surprise of the moment, really hardly knew which way to turn, or what course to pursue; but Helldorf now exclaimed:—
"There's something wrong going forward here; let us go up, perhaps we may yet be of some service;" and with these words he was about to run up the river bank; at that moment there resounded across from the boat, which was already almost lost in the obscurity, a cry for help, so loud and urgent that Helldorf stopped in alarm; but Werner cried out, as he started forward:—
"That was Bertha's voice, by Heaven! Helldorf, Schwarz, if you are my friends, show it now!" and, without waiting for a reply, or caring about the wild shouts and noise which now arose on the bank of the stream, he sprang into the boat, which they had just quitted, and the two friends had scarcely time to follow him, and to resume their places, before he pushed from the shore and took to the oar with all the vigour of which he was master.
"Stay, or I fire!" cried a voice from the shore, which Werner instantly recognised as Von Schwanthal's.
"'Tis I!" he called, in reply—"I, Werner!"
"Stay, or I fire!" repeated the other, who, in his excitement, did not appear to have comprehended the words.
"Then fire, and be d——d!" growled Helldorf, who thought that they had got far enough from shore not to need to fear a shot, especially in the dark; but Von Schwanthal, who never doubted but that this boat was connected with the other, and, in his haste and excitement, not remembering that Bertha, herself, should she happen to be in it, might be hit, levelled and fired; and directly after the flash, even before the report reached them, the slugs, with which the gun had been loaded, struck in and around the pirogue, and Werner could not suppress a low cry of pain.
The second barrel missed fire.
"Are you wounded?" cried Schwarz, turning round, in alarm, towards his friend; "has that blockhead hit you?"
"Hit, certainly; but it's nothing—only grazed, I believe—for God's sake don't let us lose time—we shall be too late else—away!—yonder flies the boat, and if he once reaches the further shore, how are we to follow him?"
Schwarz and Helldorf knew but too well the truth of this remark, and, without another word, they urged on the slim canoe, which was considerably lightened by the removal of their baggage, with the speed of an arrow, through the current, after the fugitive.