Among the Pines Part 5

"Why good at swimming?" I inquired.

"'Cause the 'runs' have ris, and ar considerable deep by this time."

"That's comforting news."

"Yas, to a man as seems in a hurry," he replied, looking at my horse, which was covered with foam.

"How far is it to the nearest run?" I asked.

"Wal, it mought be six mile; it mought be seven, but you've one or two all-fired ones to cross arter that."

Here was a pleasant predicament. It was nearly five o'clock, and our horse, though a n.o.ble animal, could not make the distance on an un.o.bstructed route, in the then heavy state of the roads, in less than three hours. Long before that time it would be dark, and no doubt stormy, for the sky, which had lowered all the afternoon, every now and then uttered an ominous growl, and seemed ready to fall down upon us.

But turning back was out of the question, so, thanking the "native," I was about to proceed, when he hailed me as follows:

"I say, stranger, what's the talk in the city?"

"Nothing, sir," I replied, "but fight and Secession."

"D--n Secession!" was the decidedly energetic answer.

"Why so, my friend? That doctrine seems to be popular hereabouts."

"Yas, pop'lar with them South Car'lina chaps. They'd be oneasy in heaven if Gabriel was cook, and the LORD head-waiter."

"They must be hard to suit," I said; "I 'kalkerlate' _you're_ not a South Carolinian."

"No, sir-ee! not by several mile. My mother moved over the line to born me a decent individual."

"But why are you for the Union, when your neighbors go the other way?"

"'Cause it's allers carried us 'long as slick as a cart with new-greased wheels; and 'cause, stranger, my grand'ther was one of Marion's boys, and spilt a lettle claret at Yewtaw for the old consarn, and I reckon he'd be oneasy in his grave if I turned my back on it now."

"But, my friend," I said, "they say Lincoln is an Abolitionist, and if inaugurated, he will free every darky you've got."

"He can't do that, stranger, 'cordin' to the Constetution, and grand'ther used to say that ar dokermunt would hold the d--l himself; but, for my part, I'd like to see the n.i.g.g.e.rs free."

"See the n.i.g.g.e.rs free!" I replied in undisguised astonishment; "why, my good sir, that is rank treason and abolition."

"Call it what yer a mind to, them's my sentiments; but I say, stranger, if thar's ony thing on airth that I uttarly dispise it ar a Northern dough-face, and it's clar yer one on 'em."

"There, my friend, you're mistaken. I'm neither an Abolitionist nor a dough-face. But _why_ do you go for freeing the n.i.g.g.e.rs?"

"'Cause the white folks would be better off. You see, I have to feed and clothe my n.i.g.g.e.rs, and pay a hundred and twenty and a hundred and fifty a year for 'em, and if the n.i.g.g.e.rs war free, they'd work for 'bout half that."

Continuing the conversation, I learned that the umbrella-hatted gentleman worked twenty hired negroes in the gathering of turpentine; and that the district we were entering was occupied by persons in the same pursuit, who nearly all employed "hired hands," and entertained similar sentiments; Colonel J----, whom I was about to visit, and who was a large slave-_owner_, being about the only exception. This, the reader will please remember, was the state of things at the date of which I am writing, in the _very heart_ of Secessiondom.

Bidding the turpentine-getter a rather reluctant "good-by," I rode on into the rain.

It was nearly dark when we reached the first "run," but, fortunately, it was less swollen than our way-side acquaintance had represented, and we succeeded in crossing without difficulty. Hoping that the others might be equally as fordable, we pushed rapidly on, the darkness meanwhile gathering thickly about us, and the rain continuing to fall. Our way lay through an unbroken forest, and as the wind swept fiercely through it, the tall dark pines which towered on either side, moaned and sighed like a legion of unhappy spirits let loose from the dark abodes below.

Occasionally we came upon a patch of woods where the turpentine-gatherer had been at work, and the white faces of the "tapped" trees, gleaming through the darkness, seemed an army of "sheeted ghosts" closing steadily around us. The darkness, the rain, and the hideous noises in the forest, called up unpleasant a.s.sociations, and I inwardly determined to ask hospitality from the first human being, black or white, whom we should meet.

We had ridden on for about an hour after dark, when suddenly our horse's feet plashed in the water, and he sank to his middle in a stream. My first thought was that we were in the second "run," but as he pushed slowly on, the water momentarily growing deeper, and spreading on either side as far as we could see, it flashed upon me that we had missed the road in the darkness, and were fairly launched into the Waccamaw river!

Turning to the darky, who was then driving, I said quickly:

"Scip, stop the horse. Where are we?"

"Don't know, ma.s.sa; reckon we'se in de riber."

"A comfortable situation this. We can't turn round. The horse can't swim such a stream in harness. What shall we do?"

"Can you swim, ma.s.sa?" he quietly asked.

"Yes, like an eel."

"Wal, den, we'd better gwo on. De hoss'll swim. But, ma.s.sa, you might take off your boots and overcoat, and be ready for a spring ef he gwo down."

I did as he directed, while he let down the ap.r.o.n and top of the wagon, and fastened the reins loosely to the dash-board, saying as he did so, "You must allers gib a hoss his head when he swim, ma.s.sa; if you rein him, he gwo down, sh.o.r.e." Then, undoing a portion of the harness, to give the horse the free use of his legs, he shouted, "Gee up, ole Gray,"

and we started.

The n.o.ble animal stepped off slowly and cautiously, as if fully aware of the danger of the pa.s.sage, but had proceeded only about fifty yards when he lost his footing, and plunged us into an entirely new and decidedly cold hip-bath. "Now's de time, ole Gray," "show your broughten up, ole boy," "let de gemman see you swim, ole feller," and similar remarks proceeded rapidly from the darky, who all the time avoided touching the reins.

It may have been one minute, it may have been five minutes--I took "no note of _time_"--before the horse again struck bottom, and halted from sheer exhaustion, the water still almost level with his back, and the opposite bank too far-off to be seen through the darkness. After a short rest, he again "breasted the waters," and in a few moments landed us on the sh.o.r.e; not, unfortunately, in the road, but in the midst of the pine-trees, there so entangled with under-growth, that not even a man, much less a horse, could make his way through them. Wet to the skin, and s.h.i.+vering with the cold, we had no time to lose "in gittin' out of dat,"

if we would avoid greater dangers than those we had escaped. So, springing from the wagon, the darky waded up the stream, near its bank, to reconnoitre. Returning in a few minutes, he reported that we were about a hundred yards below the road. We had been carried that far down stream by the strength of the current. Our only course was to follow the "run" up along its bank; this we did, and in a short time had the satisfaction of striking the high road. Arranging the harness, we were soon under way again, the horse bounding along as if he felt the necessity of vigorous exercise to restore his chilled circulation. We afterward learned that it was not the Waccamaw we had crossed, but the second "run" our native friend had told us of, and that the water in the middle of its stream was fifteen feet deep!

Half-dead with cold and wet, we hurried on, but still no welcome light beckoned us to a human habitation. The darkness grew denser till we could not even distinguish the road, much less our horse's nose, which we had been directed to follow. Inwardly cursing the folly which brought me into such a wilderness, I said to the darky:

"Scip, I'm sorry I took you on such a trip as this."

"Oh! neber mind me, ma.s.sa; I ruther like de dark night and de storm."

"Like the night and the storm! why so?"

"'Cause den de wild spirits come out, and talk in de trees. Dey make me feel bery strong _har_," he replied, striking his hand on his breast.

"The night and the storm, Scip, make _me_ feel like cultivating another sort of _spirits_. There are some in the wagon-box; suppose we stop and see what they are."

We stopped, and I took out a small willow-flask, which held the "spirits of Otard," and offered it to the darky.

"No, ma.s.sa," he said, laughing, "I neber touch dem sort ob spirits; dey raise de bery ole deble."

Not heeding the darky's example, I took "a long and a strong pull,"

and--felt the better for it.

Again we rode on, and again and again I "communed with the spirits,"

till a sudden exclamation from Scip aroused me from the half-stupor into which I was falling. "What's the matter?" I asked.

"A light, ma.s.sa, a light!"