Ripples from the boat broke into glittering sparkles of light laid by the stars on the water. The river murmured. Trees along the bank were full of strange shadowy shapes. Whenever the lightest rustle of wind drifted through the black branches, low smothered sobs fell from them.
A tall sycamore with its white outstretched arms high up toward heaven, reached toward the river waving, beckoning.
The night air was cool, but Maum Hannah took up the edge of her apron and wiped off big drops of sweat that broke out cold as ice on her forehead. “Do, Jedus, hab mussy!” she prayed.
The new moon had gone to bed. Now was the time evil spirits walk and take people’s souls out of their bodies. Pines on the island made soft moans. The darkness quivered with whispers. Only the firelight shining out from the cabin on the hill made a clear red star to guide them.
The narrow boat swerved and turned in-shore. A cypress knee, hidden by the water, bumped hard against it, but didn’t stop its leap toward the bank. Old Breeze eased himself past Maum Hannah, and hopping out on the wet sand drew the boat up a little higher on the hill.
“Git up, Hannah. Le’ me hold all two o’ you’ hands. Step slow. Hist you’ foot. Don’ miss an’ trip. Now you’s on dry land.”
“T’ank Gawd! Praise Jedus’ name!”
“You got de beads, enty?”
“Sho’ I got ’em. Dem beads is all de luck I got in dis world. If dey was to git lost, I’d be ruint fo’ true. Pure ruint!”
The steep climb cut her breath and stopped her flow of talk, but Granny who had heard them coming, croaked out: