It never occurred to me that they had brought to on my account. I could not suppose this. I was certain as I lived they intended taking my life, and were under the impression that they had succeeded. Had Black merely pushed me overboard, I might have had doubts; but the thrust of his knife, and the fierce exclamation that accompanied it, left no uncertainty as to his intention.
And now, recalling this, my first feeling of surprise gave way to one of alarm. Whatever cause of hostility these ruffians had against me would still exist. Moreover, their design of taking my life would now be strengthened by an instinct for their own preservation. Seeing that I still lived, they would know that their attempt at assassination could not go altogether unpunished, despite the lawlessness of the land in which they lived.
In that remote and solitary place, unseen by human eyes save their own, they might renew it, with every chance of success considering my crippled condition.
True, there would be the negroes, whose presence in the daylight might restrain them. But I was not sure of this. They might find some means of getting the black men out of the way; and I knew that, even if eye-witnesses of the most fearful crime, the testimony of the slave is often controlled by the fear of the torturing cowskin. They could order the four men below, as they had done before, and then do with me as they pleased, drag me to a distance among the trees, and murder me at their leisure. I felt too feeble to make the slightest resistance.
These conjectures passed through my mind in less time than I have taken to state them; and under a horrid apprehension, I not only hesitated to advance, but feared to retreat, lest the rustling of the leaves might betray my presence.
For some minutes I remained thus irresolute, when it occurred to me that some one might stray out among the trees and discover me. A giant cypress stood near, whose huge buttresses, surrounded by "knees" about my own hight, offered an excellent place for concealment; and gliding silently into one of its dark niches, I took stand, cowering like a fugitive, who feels that the ruthless pursuer is upon his track and close to his hiding-place!
For some time I remained a prey to horrid apprehensions. After my experience of the previous night, I was justified in having them.
They were keen enough to keep me quiet. I made no more noise than was caused by my quick breathing.
For nearly an hour I stood in my "stall," between the two broad buttresses of the cypress, considering what I should do. I was still irresolute about retreating. The whole surface of the island was beset with palmettoes, whose stiff, fan-like fronds made a loud rustling when touched. I could not pass through them without risk of being heard. Why I had not been discovered while making my approach was probably because the boatmen were busy about some matter that engrossed their attention. They were very near me—not thirty yards off, and but for the underwood I should have been certainly seen. If caught retreating, I should have given them the very opportunity they would desire—that is, if they meant to murder me.
Besides, I could think of no way by which I was to get off the island. I should gladly have gone back to the craft that had conveyed me thither, the drift-log, and once more trusted myself to the current. But I remembered that, on leaving it, it had become disentangled from the cypress and resumed its course down the river. Even this waif was no longer available.