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As
the two boys walked sorrowing along, they made a new compact to stand by
each other and be brothers and never separate till death relieved them of
their troubles. Then they began to lay their plans. Joe was for being a
hermit, and living on crusts in a remote cave, and dying, some time, of
cold and want and grief; but after listening to Tom, he conceded that
there were some conspicuous advantages about a life of crime, and so he
consented to be a pirate.
Three
miles below St. Petersburg, at a point where the Mississippi River was a
trifle over a mile wide, there was a long, narrow, wooded island, with a
shallow bar at the head of it, and this offered well as a rendezvous. It
was not inhabited; it lay far over toward the further shore, abreast a
dense and almost wholly unpeopled forest. So Jackson's Island was chosen.
Who were to be the subjects of their piracies was a matter that did not
occur to them. Then they hunted up Huckleberry Finn, and he joined them
promptly, for all careers were one to him; he was indifferent. They
presently separated to meet at a lonely spot on the river-bank two miles
above the village at the favorite hour -- which was midnight. There was a
small log raft there which they meant to capture. Each would bring hooks
and lines, and such provision as he could steal in the most dark and
mysterious way -- as became outlaws. And before the afternoon was done,
they had all managed to enjoy the sweet glory of spreading the fact that
pretty soon the town would "hear something." All who got this
vague hint were cautioned to "be mum and wait."
About
midnight Tom arrived with a boiled ham and a few trifles, and stopped in a
dense undergrowth on a small bluff overlooking the meeting-place. It was
starlight, and very still. The mighty river lay like an ocean at rest. Tom
listened a moment, but no sound disturbed the quiet. Then he gave a low,
distinct whistle. It was answered from under the bluff. Tom whistled twice
more; these signals were answered in the same way. Then a guarded voice
said:
"Who
goes there?"
"Tom
Sawyer, the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main. Name your names."
"Huck
Finn the Red-Handed, and Joe Harper the Terror of the Seas." Tom had
furnished these titles, from his favorite literature.
"'Tis
well. Give the countersign."
Two
hoarse whispers delivered the same awful word simultaneously to the
brooding night:
"BLOOD!"
Then
Tom tumbled his ham over the bluff and let himself down after it, tearing
both skin and clothes to some extent in the effort. There was an easy,
comfortable path along the shore under the bluff, but it lacked the
advantages of difficulty and danger so valued by a pirate.
The
Terror of the Seas had brought a side of bacon, and had about worn himself
out with getting it there. Finn the Red-Handed had stolen a skillet and a
quantity of half-cured leaf tobacco, and had also brought a few corn-cobs
to make pipes with. But none of the pirates smoked or "chewed"
but himself. The Black Avenger of the Spanish Main said it would never do
to start without some fire. That was a wise thought; matches were hardly
known there in that day. They saw a fire smouldering upon a great raft a
hundred yards above, and they went stealthily thither and helped
themselves to a chunk. They made an imposing adventure of it, saying,
"Hist!" every now and then, and suddenly halting with finger on
lip; moving with hands on imaginary dagger-hilts; and giving orders in
dismal whispers that if "the foe" stirred, to "let him have
it to the hilt," because "dead men tell no tales." They
knew well enough that the raftsmen were all down at the village laying in
stores or having a spree, but still that was no excuse for their
conducting this thing in an unpiratical way.
They
shoved off, presently, Tom in command, Huck at the after oar and Joe at
the forward. Tom stood amidships, gloomy-browed, and with folded arms, and
gave his orders in a low, stern whisper:
"Luff,
and bring her to the wind!"
"Aye-aye,
sir!"
"Steady,
steady-y-y-y!"
"Steady
it is, sir!"
"Let
her go off a point!"
"Point
it is, sir!"
As
the boys steadily and monotonously drove the raft toward mid-stream it was
no doubt understood that these orders were given only for
"style," and were not intended to mean anything in particular.
"What
sail's she carrying?"
"Courses,
tops'ls, and flying-jib, sir."
"Send
the r'yals up! Lay out aloft, there, half a dozen of ye --
foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now!"
"Aye-aye,
sir!"
"Shake
out that maintogalans'l! Sheets and braces! NOW my hearties!"
"Aye-aye,
sir!"
"Hellum-a-lee
-- hard a port! Stand by to meet her when she comes! Port, port! NOW, men!
With a will! Stead-y-y-y!"
"Steady
it is, sir!"
The
raft drew beyond the middle of the river; the boys pointed her head right,
and then lay on their oars. The river was not high, so there was not more
than a two or three mile current. Hardly a word was said during the next
three-quarters of an hour. Now the raft was passing before the distant
town. Two or three glimmering lights showed where it lay, peacefully
sleeping, beyond the vague vast sweep of star-gemmed water, unconscious of
the tremendous event that was happening. The Black Avenger stood still
with folded arms, "looking his last" upon the scene of his
former joys and his later sufferings, and wishing "she" could
see him now, abroad on the wild sea, facing peril and death with dauntless
heart, going to his doom with a grim smile on his lips. It was but a small
strain on his imagination to remove Jackson's Island beyond eyeshot of the
village, and so he "looked his last" with a broken and satisfied
heart. The other pirates were looking their last, too; and they all looked
so long that they came near letting the current drift them out of the
range of the island. But they discovered the danger in time, and made
shift to avert it. About two o'clock in the morning the raft grounded on
the bar two hundred yards above the head of the island, and they waded
back and forth until they had landed their freight. Part of the little
raft's belongings consisted of an old sail, and this they spread over a
nook in the bushes for a tent to shelter their provisions; but they
themselves would sleep in the open air in good weather, as became outlaws.
They
built a fire against the side of a great log twenty or thirty steps within
the sombre depths of the forest, and then cooked some bacon in the
frying-pan for supper, and used up half of the corn "pone" stock
they had brought. It seemed glorious sport to be feasting in that wild,
free way in the virgin forest of an unexplored and uninhabited island, far
from the haunts of men, and they said they never would return to
civilization. The climbing fire lit up their faces and threw its ruddy
glare upon the pillared tree-trunks of their forest temple, and upon the
varnished foliage and festooning vines.
When
the last crisp slice of bacon was gone, and the last allowance of corn
pone devoured, the boys stretched themselves out on the grass, filled with
contentment. They could have found a cooler place, but they would not deny
themselves such a romantic feature as the roasting camp-fire.
"AIN'T
it gay?" said Joe.
"It's
NUTS!" said Tom. "What would the boys say if they could see
us?"
"Say?
Well, they'd just die to be here -- hey, Hucky!"
"I
reckon so," said Huckleberry; "anyways, I'm suited. I don't want
nothing better'n this. I don't ever get enough to eat, gen'ally -- and
here they can't come and pick at a feller and bullyrag him so."
"It's
just the life for me," said Tom. "You don't have to get up,
mornings, and you don't have to go to school, and wash, and all that blame
foolishness. You see a pirate don't have to do ANYTHING, Joe, when he's
ashore, but a hermit HE has to be praying considerable, and then he don't
have any fun, anyway, all by himself that way."
"Oh
yes, that's so," said Joe, "but I hadn't thought much about it,
you know. I'd a good deal rather be a pirate, now that I've tried
it."
"You
see," said Tom, "people don't go much on hermits, nowadays, like
they used to in old times, but a pirate's always respected. And a hermit's
got to sleep on the hardest place he can find, and put sackcloth and ashes
on his head, and stand out in the rain, and --"
"What
does he put sackcloth and ashes on his head for?" inquired Huck.
"I
dono. But they've GOT to do it. Hermits always do. You'd have to do that
if you was a hermit."
"Dern'd
if I would," said Huck.
"Well,
what would you do?"
"I
dono. But I wouldn't do that."
"Why,
Huck, you'd HAVE to. How'd you get around it?"
"Why,
I just wouldn't stand it. I'd run away."
"Run
away! Well, you WOULD be a nice old slouch of a hermit. You'd be a
disgrace."
The
Red-Handed made no response, being better employed. He had finished
gouging out a cob, and now he fitted a weed stem to it, loaded it with
tobacco, and was pressing a coal to the charge and blowing a cloud of
fragrant smoke -- he was in the full bloom of luxurious contentment. The
other pirates envied him this majestic vice, and secretly resolved to
acquire it shortly. Presently Huck said:
"What
does pirates have to do?"
Tom
said:
"Oh,
they have just a bully time -- take ships and burn them, and get the money
and bury it in awful places in their island where there's ghosts and
things to watch it, and kill everybody in the ships -- make 'em walk a
plank."
"And
they carry the women to the island," said Joe; "they don't kill
the women."
"No,"
assented Tom, "they don't kill the women -- they're too noble. And
the women's always beautiful, too.
"And
don't they wear the bulliest clothes! Oh no! All gold and silver and
di'monds," said Joe, with enthusiasm.
"Who?"
said Huck.
"Why,
the pirates."
Huck
scanned his own clothing forlornly.
"I
reckon I ain't dressed fitten for a pirate," said he, with a
regretful pathos in his voice; "but I ain't got none but these."
But
the other boys told him the fine clothes would come fast enough, after
they should have begun their adventures. They made him understand that his
poor rags would do to begin with, though it was customary for wealthy
pirates to start with a proper wardrobe.
Gradually
their talk died out and drowsiness began to steal upon the eyelids of the
little waifs. The pipe dropped from the fingers of the Red-Handed, and he
slept the sleep of the conscience-free and the weary. The Terror of the
Seas and the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main had more difficulty in
getting to sleep. They said their prayers inwardly, and lying down, since
there was nobody there with authority to make them kneel and recite aloud;
in truth, they had a mind not to say them at all, but they were afraid to
proceed to such lengths as that, lest they might call down a sudden and
special thunderbolt from heaven. Then at once they reached and hovered
upon the imminent verge of sleep -- but an intruder came, now, that would
not "down." It was conscience. They began to feel a vague fear
that they had been doing wrong to run away; and next they thought of the
stolen meat, and then the real torture came. They tried to argue it away
by reminding conscience that they had purloined sweetmeats and apples
scores of times; but conscience was not to be appeased by such thin
plausibilities; it seemed to them, in the end, that there was no getting
around the stubborn fact that taking sweetmeats was only
"hooking," while taking bacon and hams and such valuables was
plain simple stealing -- and there was a command against that in the
Bible. So they inwardly resolved that so long as they remained in the
business, their piracies should not again be sullied with the crime of
stealing. Then conscience granted a truce, and these curiously
inconsistent pirates fell peacefully to sleep.
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