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Chapter XV
A FEW minutes later Tom was in the shoal
water of the bar, wading toward the
Illinois shore.
Before the depth reached his middle he was
half-way over; the current would permit no
more wading, now, so he struck out
confidently to swim the remaining hundred
yards.
He swam quartering upstream, but still was
swept downward rather faster than he had
expected.
However, he reached the shore finally, and
drifted along till he found a low place
and drew himself out.
He put his hand on his jacket pocket,
found his piece of bark safe, and then
struck through the woods, following the
shore, with streaming garments.
Shortly before ten o'clock he came out
into an open place opposite the village,
and saw the ferryboat lying in the shadow
of the trees and the high bank.
Everything was quiet under the blinking
stars.
He crept down the bank, watching with all
his eyes, slipped into the water, swam
three or four strokes and climbed into the
skiff that did "yawl" duty at the boat's
stern.
He laid himself down under the thwarts and
waited, panting.
Presently the cracked bell tapped and a
voice gave the order to "cast off."
A minute or two later the skiff's head was
standing high up, against the boat's
swell, and the voyage was begun.
Tom felt happy in his success, for he knew
it was the boat's last trip for the night.
At the end of a long twelve or fifteen
minutes the wheels stopped, and Tom
slipped overboard and swam ashore in the
dusk, landing fifty yards downstream, out
of danger of possible stragglers.
He flew along unfrequented alleys, and
shortly found himself at his aunt's back
fence.
He climbed over, approached the "ell," and
looked in at the sitting-room window, for
a light was burning there.
There sat Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, and Joe
Harper's mother, grouped together,
talking.
They were by the bed, and the bed was
between them and the door.
Tom went to the door and began to softly
lift the latch; then he pressed gently and
the door yielded a crack; he continued
pushing cautiously, and quaking every time
it creaked, till he judged he might
squeeze through on his knees; so he put
his head through and began, warily.
"What makes the candle blow so?"
said Aunt Polly.
Tom hurried up.
"Why, that door's open, I believe.
Why, of course it is.
No end of strange things now.
Go 'long and shut it, Sid."
Tom disappeared under the bed just in
time.
He lay and "breathed" himself for a time,
and then crept to where he could almost
touch his aunt's foot.
"But as I was saying," said Aunt Polly,
"he warn't BAD, so to say --only
mischEEvous.
Only just giddy, and harum-scarum, you
know.
He warn't any more responsible than a
colt.
HE never meant any harm, and he was the
best-hearted boy that ever was"--and she
began to cry.
"It was just so with my Joe--always full
of his devilment, and up to every kind of
mischief, but he was just as unselfish and
kind as he could be--and laws bless me, to
think I went and whipped him for taking
that cream, never once recollecting that I
throwed it out myself because it was sour,
and I never to see him again in this
world, never, never, never, poor abused
boy!"
And Mrs. Harper sobbed as if her heart
would break.
"I hope Tom's better off where he is,"
said Sid, "but if he'd been better in some
ways--"
"SID!"
Tom felt the glare of the old lady's eye,
though he could not see it.
"Not a word against my Tom, now that he's
gone!
God'll take care of HIM--never you trouble
YOURself, sir!
Oh, Mrs. Harper, I don't know how to give
him up!
I don't know how to give him up!
He was such a comfort to me, although he
tormented my old heart out of me, 'most."
"The Lord giveth and the Lord hath taken
away--Blessed be the name of the Lord!
But it's so hard--Oh, it's so hard!
Only last Saturday my Joe busted a
firecracker right under my nose and I
knocked him sprawling.
Little did I know then, how soon--Oh, if
it was to do over again I'd hug him and
bless him for it."
"Yes, yes, yes, I know just how you feel,
Mrs. Harper, I know just exactly how you
feel.
No longer ago than yesterday noon, my Tom
took and filled the cat full of Pain-
killer, and I did think the cretur would
tear the house down.
And God forgive me, I cracked Tom's head
with my thimble, poor boy, poor dead boy.
But he's out of all his troubles now.
And the last words I ever heard him say
was to reproach--"
But this memory was too much for the old
lady, and she broke entirely down.
Tom was snuffling, now, himself--and more
in pity of himself than anybody else.
He could hear Mary crying, and putting in
a kindly word for him from time to time.
He began to have a nobler opinion of
himself than ever before.
Still, he was sufficiently touched by his
aunt's grief to long to rush out from
under the bed and overwhelm her with joy--
and the theatrical gorgeousness of the
thing appealed strongly to his nature,
too, but he resisted and lay still.
He went on listening, and gathered by odds
and ends that it was conjectured at first
that the boys had got drowned while taking
a swim; then the small raft had been
missed; next, certain boys said the
missing lads had promised that the village
should "hear something" soon; the wise-
heads had "put this and that together" and
decided that the lads had gone off on that
raft and would turn up at the next town
below, presently; but toward noon the raft
had been found, lodged against the
Missouri shore some five or six miles
below the village --and then hope
perished; they must be drowned, else
hunger would have driven them home by
nightfall if not sooner.
It was believed that the search for the
bodies had been a fruitless effort merely
because the drowning must have occurred in
mid-channel, since the boys, being good
swimmers, would otherwise have escaped to
shore.
This was Wednesday night.
If the bodies continued missing until
Sunday, all hope would be given over, and
the funerals would be preached on that
morning.
Tom shuddered.
Mrs. Harper gave a sobbing good-night and
turned to go.
Then with a mutual impulse the two
bereaved women flung themselves into each
other's arms and had a good, consoling
cry, and then parted.
Aunt Polly was tender far beyond her wont,
in her good-night to Sid and Mary.
Sid snuffled a bit and Mary went off
crying with all her heart.
Aunt Polly knelt down and prayed for Tom
so touchingly, so appealingly, and with
such measureless love in her words and her
old trembling voice, that he was weltering
in tears again, long before she was
through.
He had to keep still long after she went
to bed, for she kept making broken-hearted
ejaculations from time to time, tossing
unrestfully, and turning over.
But at last she was still, only moaning a
little in her sleep.
Now the boy stole out, rose gradually by
the bedside, shaded the candle-light with
his hand, and stood regarding her.
His heart was full of pity for her.
He took out his sycamore scroll and placed
it by the candle.
But something occurred to him, and he
lingered considering.
His face lighted with a happy solution of
his thought; he put the bark hastily in
his pocket.
Then he bent over and kissed the faded
lips, and straightway made his stealthy
exit, latching the door behind him.
He threaded his way back to the ferry
landing, found nobody at large there, and
walked boldly on board the boat, for he
knew she was tenantless except that there
was a watchman, who always turned in and
slept like a graven image.
He untied the skiff at the stern, slipped
into it, and was soon rowing cautiously
upstream.
When he had pulled a mile above the
village, he started quartering across and
bent himself stoutly to his work.
He hit the landing on the other side
neatly, for this was a familiar bit of
work to him.
He was moved to capture the skiff, arguing
that it might be considered a ship and
therefore legitimate prey for a pirate,
but he knew a thorough search would be
made for it and that might end in
revelations.
So he stepped ashore and entered the
woods.
He sat down and took a long rest,
torturing himself meanwhile to keep awake,
and then started warily down the home-
stretch.
The night was far spent.
It was broad daylight before he found
himself fairly abreast the island bar.
He rested again until the sun was well up
and gilding the great river with its
splendor, and then he plunged into the
stream.
A little later he paused, dripping, upon
the threshold of the camp, and heard Joe
say:
"No, Tom's true-blue, Huck, and he'll come
back.
He won't desert.
He knows that would be a disgrace to a
pirate, and Tom's too proud for that sort
of thing.
He's up to something or other.
Now I wonder what?"
"Well, the things is ours, anyway, ain't
they?"
"Pretty near, but not yet, Huck.
The writing says they are if he ain't back
here to breakfast."
"Which he is!"
exclaimed Tom, with fine dramatic effect,
stepping grandly into camp.
A sumptuous breakfast of bacon and fish
was shortly provided, and as the boys set
to work upon it, Tom recounted (and
adorned) his adventures.
They were a vain and boastful company of
heroes when the tale was done.
Then Tom hid himself away in a shady nook
to sleep till noon, and the other pirates
got ready to fish and explore.