Tip:
Highlight text to annotate it
X
Chapter XVI
AFTER dinner all the gang turned out to
hunt for turtle eggs on the bar.
They went about poking sticks into the
sand, and when they found a soft place
they went down on their knees and dug with
their hands.
Sometimes they would take fifty or sixty
eggs out of one hole.
They were perfectly round white things a
trifle smaller than an English walnut.
They had a famous fried-egg feast that
night, and another on Friday morning.
After breakfast they went whooping and
prancing out on the bar, and chased each
other round and round, shedding clothes as
they went, until they were naked, and then
continued the frolic far away up the shoal
water of the bar, against the stiff
current, which latter tripped their legs
from under them from time to time and
greatly increased the fun.
And now and then they stooped in a group
and splashed water in each other's faces
with their palms, gradually approaching
each other, with averted faces to avoid
the strangling sprays, and finally
gripping and struggling till the best man
ducked his neighbor, and then they all
went under in a tangle of white legs and
arms and came up blowing, sputtering,
laughing, and gasping for breath at one
and the same time.
When they were well exhausted, they would
run out and sprawl on the dry, hot sand,
and lie there and cover themselves up with
it, and by and by break for the water
again and go through the original
performance once more.
Finally it occurred to them that their
naked skin represented flesh-colored
"tights" very fairly; so they drew a ring
in the sand and had a circus--with three
clowns in it, for none would yield this
proudest post to his neighbor.
Next they got their marbles and played
"knucks" and "ring-taw" and "keeps" till
that amusement grew stale.
Then Joe and Huck had another swim, but
Tom would not venture, because he found
that in kicking off his trousers he had
kicked his string of rattlesnake rattles
off his ankle, and he wondered how he had
escaped cramp so long without the
protection of this mysterious charm.
He did not venture again until he had
found it, and by that time the other boys
were tired and ready to rest.
They gradually wandered apart, dropped
into the "dumps," and fell to gazing
longingly across the wide river to where
the village lay drowsing in the sun.
Tom found himself writing "BECKY" in the
sand with his big toe; he scratched it
out, and was angry with himself for his
weakness.
But he wrote it again, nevertheless; he
could not help it.
He erased it once more and then took
himself out of temptation by driving the
other boys together and joining them.
But Joe's spirits had gone down almost
beyond resurrection.
He was so homesick that he could hardly
endure the misery of it.
The tears lay very near the surface.
Huck was melancholy, too.
Tom was downhearted, but tried hard not to
show it.
He had a secret which he was not ready to
tell, yet, but if this mutinous depression
was not broken up soon, he would have to
bring it out.
He said, with a great show of
cheerfulness:
"I bet there's been pirates on this island
before, boys.
We'll explore it again.
They've hid treasures here somewhere.
How'd you feel to light on a rotten chest
full of gold and silver--hey?"
But it roused only faint enthusiasm, which
faded out, with no reply.
Tom tried one or two other seductions; but
they failed, too.
It was discouraging work.
Joe sat poking up the sand with a stick
and looking very gloomy.
Finally he said:
"Oh, boys, let's give it up.
I want to go home.
It's so lonesome."
"Oh no, Joe, you'll feel better by and
by," said Tom.
"Just think of the fishing that's here."
"I don't care for fishing.
I want to go home."
"But, Joe, there ain't such another
swimming-place anywhere."
"Swimming's no good.
I don't seem to care for it, somehow, when
there ain't anybody to say I sha'n't go
in.
I mean to go home."
"Oh, shucks!
Baby!
You want to see your mother, I reckon."
"Yes, I DO want to see my mother--and you
would, too, if you had one.
I ain't any more baby than you are."
And Joe snuffled a little.
"Well, we'll let the cry-baby go home to
his mother, won't we, Huck?
Poor thing--does it want to see its
mother?
And so it shall.
You like it here, don't you, Huck?
We'll stay, won't we?"
Huck said, "Y-e-s"--without any heart in
it.
"I'll never speak to you again as long as
I live," said Joe, rising.
"There now!"
And he moved moodily away and began to
dress himself.
"Who cares!"
said Tom.
"Nobody wants you to.
Go 'long home and get laughed at.
Oh, you're a nice pirate.
Huck and me ain't cry-babies.
We'll stay, won't we, Huck?
Let him go if he wants to.
I reckon we can get along without him,
per'aps."
But Tom was uneasy, nevertheless, and was
alarmed to see Joe go sullenly on with his
dressing.
And then it was discomforting to see Huck
eying Joe's preparations so wistfully, and
keeping up such an ominous silence.
Presently, without a parting word, Joe
began to wade off toward the Illinois
shore.
Tom's heart began to sink.
He glanced at Huck.
Huck could not bear the look, and dropped
his eyes.
Then he said:
"I want to go, too, Tom.
It was getting so lonesome anyway, and now
it'll be worse.
Let's us go, too, Tom."
"I won't!
You can all go, if you want to.
I mean to stay."
"Tom, I better go."
"Well, go 'long--who's hendering you."
Huck began to pick up his scattered
clothes.
He said:
"Tom, I wisht you'd come, too.
Now you think it over.
We'll wait for you when we get to shore."
"Well, you'll wait a blame long time,
that's all."
Huck started sorrowfully away, and Tom
stood looking after him, with a strong
desire tugging at his heart to yield his
pride and go along too.
He hoped the boys would stop, but they
still waded slowly on.
It suddenly dawned on Tom that it was
become very lonely and still.
He made one final struggle with his pride,
and then darted after his comrades,
yelling:
"Wait!
Wait!
I want to tell you something!"
They presently stopped and turned around.
When he got to where they were, he began
unfolding his secret, and they listened
moodily till at last they saw the "point"
he was driving at, and then they set up a
war-whoop of applause and said it was
"splendid!"
and said if he had told them at first,
they wouldn't have started away.
He made a plausible excuse; but his real
reason had been the fear that not even the
secret would keep them with him any very
great length of time, and so he had meant
to hold it in reserve as a last seduction.
The lads came gayly back and went at their
sports again with a will, chattering all
the time about Tom's stupendous plan and
admiring the genius of it.
After a dainty egg and fish dinner, Tom
said he wanted to learn to smoke, now.
Joe caught at the idea and said he would
like to try, too.
So Huck made pipes and filled them.
These novices had never smoked anything
before but cigars made of grape-vine, and
they "bit" the tongue, and were not
considered manly anyway.
Now they stretched themselves out on their
elbows and began to puff, charily, and
with slender confidence.
The smoke had an unpleasant taste, and
they gagged a little, but Tom said:
"Why, it's just as easy!
If I'd a knowed this was all, I'd a learnt
long ago."
"So would I," said Joe.
"It's just nothing."
"Why, many a time I've looked at people
smoking, and thought well I wish I could
do that; but I never thought I could,"
said Tom.
"That's just the way with me, hain't it,
Huck?
You've heard me talk just that way--
haven't you, Huck?
I'll leave it to Huck if I haven't."
"Yes--heaps of times," said Huck.
"Well, I have too," said Tom; "oh,
hundreds of times.
Once down by the slaughter-house.
Don't you remember, Huck?
Bob Tanner was there, and Johnny Miller,
and Jeff Thatcher, when I said it.
Don't you remember, Huck, 'bout me saying
that?"
"Yes, that's so," said Huck.
"That was the day after I lost a white
alley.
No, 'twas the day before."
"There--I told you so," said Tom.
"Huck recollects it."
"I bleeve I could smoke this pipe all
day," said Joe.
"I don't feel sick."
"Neither do I," said Tom.
"I could smoke it all day.
But I bet you Jeff Thatcher couldn't."
"Jeff Thatcher!
Why, he'd keel over just with two draws.
Just let him try it once.
HE'D see!"
"I bet he would.
And Johnny Miller--I wish could see Johnny
Miller tackle it once."
"Oh, don't I!"
said Joe.
"Why, I bet you Johnny Miller couldn't any
more do this than nothing.
Just one little snifter would fetch HIM."
"'Deed it would, Joe.
Say--I wish the boys could see us now."
"So do I."
"Say--boys, don't say anything about it,
and some time when they're around, I'll
come up to you and say, 'Joe, got a pipe?
I want a smoke.' And you'll say, kind of
careless like, as if it warn't anything,
you'll say, 'Yes, I got my OLD pipe, and
another one, but my tobacker ain't very
good.' And I'll say, 'Oh, that's all
right, if it's STRONG enough.' And then
you'll out with the pipes, and we'll light
up just as ca'm, and then just see 'em
look!"
"By jings, that'll be gay, Tom!
I wish it was NOW!"
"So do I!
And when we tell 'em we learned when we
was off pirating, won't they wish they'd
been along?"
"Oh, I reckon not!
I'll just BET they will!"
So the talk ran on.
But presently it began to flag a trifle,
and grow disjointed.
The silences widened; the expectoration
marvellously increased.
Every pore inside the boys' cheeks became
a spouting fountain; they could scarcely
bail out the cellars under their tongues
fast enough to prevent an inundation;
little overflowings down their throats
occurred in spite of all they could do,
and sudden retchings followed every time.
Both boys were looking very pale and
miserable, now.
Joe's pipe dropped from his nerveless
fingers.
Tom's followed.
Both fountains were going furiously and
both pumps bailing with might and main.
Joe said feebly:
"I've lost my knife.
I reckon I better go and find it."
Tom said, with quivering lips and halting
utterance:
"I'll help you.
You go over that way and I'll hunt around
by the spring.
No, you needn't come, Huck--we can find
it."
So Huck sat down again, and waited an
hour.
Then he found it lonesome, and went to
find his comrades.
They were wide apart in the woods, both
very pale, both fast asleep.
But something informed him that if they
had had any trouble they had got rid of
it.
They were not talkative at supper that
night.
They had a humble look, and when Huck
prepared his pipe after the meal and was
going to prepare theirs, they said no,
they were not feeling very well--something
they ate at dinner had disagreed with
them.
About midnight Joe awoke, and called the
boys.
There was a brooding oppressiveness in the
air that seemed to bode something.
The boys huddled themselves together and
sought the friendly companionship of the
fire, though the dull dead heat of the
breathless atmosphere was stifling.
They sat still, intent and waiting.
The solemn hush continued.
Beyond the light of the fire everything
was swallowed up in the blackness of
darkness.
Presently there came a quivering glow that
vaguely revealed the foliage for a moment
and then vanished.
By and by another came, a little stronger.
Then another.
Then a faint moan came sighing through the
branches of the forest and the boys felt a
fleeting breath upon their cheeks, and
shuddered with the fancy that the Spirit
of the Night had gone by.
There was a pause.
Now a weird flash turned night into day
and showed every little grass-blade,
separate and distinct, that grew about
their feet.
And it showed three white, startled faces,
too.
A deep peal of thunder went rolling and
tumbling down the heavens and lost itself
in sullen rumblings in the distance.
A sweep of chilly air passed by, rustling
all the leaves and snowing the flaky ashes
broadcast about the fire.
Another fierce glare lit up the forest and
an instant crash followed that seemed to
rend the tree-tops right over the boys'
heads.
They clung together in terror, in the
thick gloom that followed.
A few big rain-drops fell pattering upon
the leaves.
"Quick!
boys, go for the tent!"
exclaimed Tom.
They sprang away, stumbling over roots and
among vines in the dark, no two plunging
in the same direction.
A furious blast roared through the trees,
making everything sing as it went.
One blinding flash after another came, and
peal on peal of deafening thunder.
And now a drenching rain poured down and
the rising hurricane drove it in sheets
along the ground.
The boys cried out to each other, but the
roaring wind and the booming thunder-
blasts drowned their voices utterly.
However, one by one they straggled in at
last and took shelter under the tent,
cold, scared, and streaming with water;
but to have company in misery seemed
something to be grateful for.
They could not talk, the old sail flapped
so furiously, even if the other noises
would have allowed them.
The tempest rose higher and higher, and
presently the sail tore loose from its
fastenings and went winging away on the
blast.
The boys seized each others' hands and
fled, with many tumblings and bruises, to
the shelter of a great oak that stood upon
the river-bank.
Now the battle was at its highest.
Under the ceaseless conflagration of
lightning that flamed in the skies,
everything below stood out in clean-cut
and shadowless distinctness: the bending
trees, the billowy river, white with foam,
the driving spray of spume-flakes, the dim
outlines of the high bluffs on the other
side, glimpsed through the drifting cloud-
rack and the slanting veil of rain.
Every little while some giant tree yielded
the fight and fell crashing through the
younger growth; and the unflagging
thunder-peals came now in ear-splitting
explosive bursts, keen and sharp, and
unspeakably appalling.
The storm culminated in one matchless
effort that seemed likely to tear the
island to pieces, burn it up, drown it to
the tree-tops, blow it away, and deafen
every creature in it, all at one and the
same moment.
It was a wild night for homeless young
heads to be out in.
But at last the battle was done, and the
forces retired with weaker and weaker
threatenings and grumblings, and peace
resumed her sway.
The boys went back to camp, a good deal
awed; but they found there was still
something to be thankful for, because the
great sycamore, the shelter of their beds,
was a ruin, now, blasted by the
lightnings, and they were not under it
when the catastrophe happened.
Everything in camp was drenched, the camp-
fire as well; for they were but heedless
lads, like their generation, and had made
no provision against rain.
Here was matter for dismay, for they were
soaked through and chilled.
They were eloquent in their distress; but
they presently discovered that the fire
had eaten so far up under the great log it
had been built against (where it curved
upward and separated itself from the
ground), that a handbreadth or so of it
had escaped wetting; so they patiently
wrought until, with shreds and bark
gathered from the under sides of sheltered
logs, they coaxed the fire to burn again.
Then they piled on great dead boughs till
they had a roaring furnace, and were glad-
hearted once more.
They dried their boiled ham and had a
feast, and after that they sat by the fire
and expanded and glorified their midnight
adventure until morning, for there was not
a dry spot to sleep on, anywhere around.
As the sun began to steal in upon the
boys, drowsiness came over them, and they
went out on the sandbar and lay down to
sleep.
They got scorched out by and by, and
drearily set about getting breakfast.
After the meal they felt rusty, and stiff-
jointed, and a little homesick once more.
Tom saw the signs, and fell to cheering up
the pirates as well as he could.
But they cared nothing for marbles, or
circus, or swimming, or anything.
He reminded them of the imposing secret,
and raised a ray of cheer.
While it lasted, he got them interested in
a new device.
This was to knock off being pirates, for a
while, and be Indians for a change.
They were attracted by this idea; so it
was not long before they were stripped,
and striped from head to heel with black
mud, like so many zebras--all of them
chiefs, of course--and then they went
tearing through the woods to attack an
English settlement.
By and by they separated into three
hostile tribes, and darted upon each other
from ambush with dreadful war-whoops, and
killed and scalped each other by
thousands.
It was a gory day.
Consequently it was an extremely
satisfactory one.
They assembled in camp toward supper-time,
hungry and happy; but now a difficulty
arose--hostile Indians could not break the
bread of hospitality together without
first making peace, and this was a simple
impossibility without smoking a pipe of
peace.
There was no other process that ever they
had heard of.
Two of the savages almost wished they had
remained pirates.
However, there was no other way; so with
such show of cheerfulness as they could
muster they called for the pipe and took
their whiff as it passed, in due form.
And behold, they were glad they had gone
into savagery, for they had gained
something; they found that they could now
smoke a little without having to go and
hunt for a lost knife; they did not get
sick enough to be seriously uncomfortable.
They were not likely to fool away this
high promise for lack of effort.
No, they practised cautiously, after
supper, with right fair success, and so
they spent a jubilant evening.
They were prouder and happier in their new
acquirement than they would have been in
the scalping and skinning of the Six
Nations.
We will leave them to smoke and chatter
and brag, since we have no further use for
them at present.