It seemed that almost whole days had passed before he half started up in semilucidity. He could move neither his hands nor his feet. It was still dark. He could hear the thud and wash of engines and waters, and he imagined himself still on the river steamer. He smelled the heavy, decaying odor of the swamps. His head ached terribly, and seemed swollen3 to enormous dimensions. He could not think nor collect himself, and he relapsed into dizzy unconsciousness.
But when he recovered intelligence there was light in his eyes. He lay on his back; there was a ceiling of pine boards above him. Still dreaming of the river boat, he tried to move himself, and found that his arms were tied fast at the wrists, and his legs at the ankles.
He turned his head sideways, growing dizzy with the slight movement. He was in a long room, perhaps ten feet by twenty. Opposite him a couple of bunks4 were built into the wall, empty except for frightfully tattered6 rags that might once have been called blankets. At each end of the room was an open door, where the sunlight shone in, and he had a glimpse of green thickets7, and he smelled swamp water. Outside the door human figures moved indistinctly.
Now he knew where he was. He was in a house boat, probably the boat he had grown familiar with on the bayou; though how he had got there he could not at the moment imagine. His head was too painful for thought; he lay back, crushed down with unspeakable defeat and weakness and despair.
The door darkened. A big figure came in, and Lockwood saw a face brought close to his own—a bearded, brutal8 face, with a great bluish stain or scar on the forehead.
“Done woke up, air ye?” said Blue Bob.
Lockwood stared back, incapable9 of speaking. The riverman laughed a little and went out, returning with a lump of corn pone11 and a tin cup of coffee.
“Here, swaller this,” he said, “an’ you’ll feel better.”
Three more men came in, and stood staring at the prisoner with the stolid12 curiosity of animals. Lockwood’s wrists were loosened; the food put into his hands. He could not eat the corn bread, but he drank the bitter, black coffee, and it did stimulate13 him. His head cleared. He looked round at the ring of hard faces.
“What’s this for? What are you going to do with me?” he demanded weakly.
“Dunno,” said Bob. “We’re goin’ to take right good keer of you, so you won’t git away.”
Lockwood shut his eyes again, beginning to remember, to understand—slowly, painfully piecing out the situation. Hanna was in alliance with the river gang, just as he had half suspected. It was a winning alliance, too. Lockwood could not but feel that he had lost his game—for the present. He was not much afraid for his life. The pirates might have murdered him very easily, but they had spared him; they said they were going to “take good keer” of him. Hanna wanted him out of the way until the oil deal could be put through.
His coat was gone, his boots, his cambric shirt. There was not much left but his trousers and underwear. His pistol was gone, of course, and his pocketbook and his watch, even his handkerchief. But the money belt was there. They had not thought to search him to the skin. He felt the familiar rasp of the leather and the hardness of the ten-dollar gold coins inside, and it gave him hope; so much does money seem to be power.
He asked to be let up, but they refused; and really he was better where he was. He spent the rest of the day in the bunk5, dozing14 fitfully into nightmares, sometimes feverishly15 awake, too sick to know how the hours passed.
Twice more they brought him food, fried catfish16 and corn pone and the same black coffee, strong as oak-ash lye. He drank, but he could not eat; and after a time he found the cabin in darkness again. Some one tied his hands up without any regard for his comfort.
A loud chorus of snoring went on from the pirates in their bunks. Thus unguarded, he might have tried to escape, but he was far too ill to think of any such thing. He slept himself instead, and was the better for it. He awoke next morning with the swimming sensation almost gone from his head, and even a slight appetite.
That day they let him out of the bunk, greatly to his relief, for the place swarmed17 with fleas18, and probably with worse vermin. His ankles were still loosely hobbled, but he was allowed to sit on the open stern deck.
His first glance was for familiar landmarks19. He found none. The boat was lying in a little bay or bayou, perhaps a creek20 mouth, surrounded by dense21 thickets of titi and rattan22. Through a tangle23 of overhanging willow24 he thought he saw the Alabama River outside, but anybody might have passed down the stream within fifty yards without suspecting the presence of the house boat, or even of the harbor where it lay.
He did not know the place. He was sure it was no part of the bayou near Craig’s camp. He recollected25 the thudding of engines he had heard or felt soon after being kidnapped. The house boat was moving then. They must have taken her out of the bayou, down the river for some miles, and laid her in this hiding place, which they had probably used before.
The boat was moored26 against a huge log that made a natural wharf27. On an open sandy space ashore28 a cooking fire was burning. Not far from it two of the gang lay flat on their backs in the shade. Blue Bob stayed aboard, with the fourth of the party, a young man, little more than a boy, with a vacuous29, animal face, and long, youthful down sprouting30 from his chin.
“Well—going to let me go ashore?” Lockwood remarked, by way of being conversational31.
Lockwood tried again, getting no answer. Studying his captors, he decided33 that it was not so much animosity as sheer lack of words. They spoke34 little more to one another than to him. He observed them all that day with growing amazement35; he thought he had never seen men so devoid36 of all the attributes of humanity. His amazement grew to a sort of horror. He felt as if he had fallen into the hands of some half-human animals, some soulless race without either understanding or mercy.
They spoke mainly in drawled monosyllables; they played cards and shot craps endlessly, but without excitement—perhaps having no money to stake. No doubt they were all devoured37 with malaria38 and hookworms; but all the same they could handle an ax with masterly dexterity39, and on occasion they could be as quick as cats.
Half asleep as they generally seemed, Lockwood felt their eyes perpetually upon him. At every movement, some one turned his head like a flash, and every one of these men carried a gun, the handle protruding40 shamelessly from the hip41 pocket. Bob had two—one of them being Lockwood’s own automatic.
After several futile42 attempts, Lockwood gave up trying to get on any sort of relations with them. He watched them with dread43 and repulsion as they rolled dice44 on the dirty deck. One of the “bones” fell through a crack in the planking, and, trying to loosen a board to reach it, the youngest of the men broke the blade of his sheath knife. He tossed away the shortened blade with a curse, but the broken tip remained on the deck and Lockwood fixed45 his eyes on it.
It was scarcely two inches long, but was the nearest approach to a cutting tool that had come anywhere near his reach. He managed to shuffle46 near it; he put his foot on it. Eventually he sat down on his heels, got the triangular47 bit of steel into his hands, and transferred it to his trousers pocket. It was not much, but it might be something.
The day dragged on. That afternoon something went by on the river outside, invisible through the trees—probably a raft of timber. Toward evening they fed him and put him back in his bunk, tying his hands once more at the wrists.
A clammy white fog from the swamps drifted smokily through the doorways49. The whole cabin was hazy51 and damp. The pirates had a big fire burning on the shore; he could see the red reflection of it; and then, faint and rapidly increasing, he heard the distant drumming of the engine of a motor boat coming down the river.
Every nerve thrilled in him. It was destiny that was coming, he knew. He heard the boat slacken, then scrape through the willow boughs52 that masked the bayou, and then a bump upon the house boat, and a voice.
His heart sank. It was worse than destiny; it was disaster.
“Got him safe?” said Hanna.
“Got him alive,” returned Bob. “Ruther hev him dead?”
“I sure would,” said the other earnestly.
Then there was a long, hoarse53 mutter of talk which Lockwood could not make out. Hanna was arguing something. Then silence fell. Feet trampled54 the deck outside, and Blue Bob came into the cabin, carrying a flaring55 torch of fat pine, which filled the foggy room with resinous56 smoke and a lurid57 light. Hanna followed him, and looked down at Lockwood in his bunk.
“I’ve got no time to fool with you now,” he said curtly58. “You asked for this and you’ve got it. Now these fellows’ll float you down to Mobile, and Harding’ll give you a ticket to Chicago and fifty dollars. Right now you’ll give me the signed statement I mentioned, saying that you’ve looked into my enterprise and consider it quite sound.”
“Nothing doing,” said Lockwood.
“What’s wrong with you?” he said. “You haven’t got a ghost of a show now. You’re down and out. I’ve told the Power boys things about you. They’ll shoot you at sight if you ever turn up there again. I don’t need to do anything for you, but I felt as if I ought to give you a last chance. That’s what’s the matter with me—got too tender a conscience.
“These boys ain’t troubled that way, though,” he added, indicating the boat’s crew. “I’ll just leave you with them. Let’s get out of here, Bob. It’s hotter’n hell.”
“It’s your last chance,” he said. “Well?”
“No,” said Lockwood.
For another five minutes, perhaps, the men talked on the rear deck.
“Ain’t takin’ no sech chances. Do it yourself,” he heard Bob say.
“You done it once, I guess,” replied Hanna. “Hush!” as the pirate uttered a loud oath of denial.
The talk sank again; and then the motor boat throbbed62 away into silence. Hanna was gone; but the pirates talked long among themselves, while the river fog drifted ghost-white over the boat. From time to time some one came and looked at him through the misty63 doorway50.
He had never known the river men so excited; he would not have thought it possible for them to have had so much conversation. He guessed what they were discussing. From moment to moment he almost expected the attack, the shot, or a crushing club stroke. He was tied, helpless as a sheep.
“If we-all do this hyar job,” he heard Bob say, “we gotter git cl’ar offn the Alabama fer good. We kin10 sell the boat in Mobile, an’ go——”
Some one interrupted indistinctly. Bob swore and insisted.
“All same, Bob, this yere’s a heap safer’n that other time, an’ you got outer that all right,” another voice drawled.
“Outer what?” Bob snarled64 savagely65. “Outer nothin’. Jackson Power knows he done it—thinks so, anyways. Mebbe he did. Everybody was lettin’ off their pistols at once, an’——”
“Shucks, Bob. He was shot with an autymatic, an’ nobody hadn’t no autymatic that night but you.”
“Ef you says I done it, I’ll cut your liver out!” Bob threatened. “I tell you it shore was young Jack66 Power.”
“Well, jest so long’s he thinks so! Shet up, Bob! We’ve got to touch up young Jackson again, anyways.”
“Sure we will,” said Bob. “A thousand this time, and Hanna don’t git none of it. Then with what we gits fer——”
Echoes of some old affray, it seemed, that still had power to terrify. The familiar mention of Jackson Power’s name startled him, recalling what he had seen or heard himself; but he had no thought just then to spend upon that wild youth’s connection with the river gang.
How long had he to live?—what chance had he? were the only problems that his brain could hold. He could not possibly doubt that his fate had been decided upon. Was it to be to-night, while he lay tied, helpless as a sheep?
If he had some weapon, even a stick—even if his hands had been free, he could have faced it better. He strained at the rope that bound his wrists behind his back. It was dark in the cabin; no one could see what he did; and the knots slipped and gave just a little. Not nearly enough to release his hands, but with the tips of his fingers he could feel the bit of knife point in his trousers pocket.
He worked it around, point against the cloth, and pressed it through the slit67 it made. It must be sharp, he thought with satisfaction; and at that moment the pirates from the deck came crowding in.
He fancied that it was his last moment. But no one paid him any attention beyond a casual glance. They tumbled into their bunks, all but Blue Bob, who produced a long tallow candle and lighted it. He set it in the middle of the floor, squatted68 down on the floor himself, with his back against a bunk, took a chew of tobacco, and fixed his eyes on the prisoner.
Lockwood realized that the death watch had been put on him; but the realization69 came with relief, for it meant that nothing was intended for that night. But this night would certainly be the last.
The thick fog drifted and coiled about the pale candle flame burning straight in the windless air. The air was full of moisture, steaming hot. Mosquitoes buzzed thickly. Far ashore he heard the calling of owls70. He hoped that Bob would doze71 off, but the pirate remained tenaciously72 awake, chewing tobacco like a machine. Lockwood had a wild instant thought of trying to bribe73 him with the gold in his belt. Madness! Blue Bob would take the gold, and dispatch him even more certainly afterward.
Once outside, in that darkness and fog, they would never recapture him, either on land or water. He held the bit of steel between his fingers, behind his back. By twisting his fingers back he could just touch the knife edge to the rope at his wrist. He might cut it, but in the face of that black stare across the cabin he dared not move a muscle.
He shut his eyes and pretended to sleep, peeping occasionally through his lashes74. Unceasingly Bob chewed his quid. Lockwood’s brain ached with the nervous tension. He groaned75 and half turned, as if sleeping restlessly, and for a moment Bob’s jaws76 stopped working.
At last he must really have slept, though he seemed to be always conscious of the candlelight and the fog. But he came to himself with a sense of waking, not out of but into a nightmare. The candle still burned, but it was low now. The fog banked in wet clouds about it; and Bob was gone. Another man had taken his place.
This watcher also chewed tobacco, but Lockwood saw at once that he was less vigilant77. He presently fetched a fresh candle and lighted it from the first, then, sitting down, yawned loudly. He had been wakened from his first sleep, and had trouble to keep from relapsing.
Lockwood lay with closed eyes, but tense, wide awake now, peeping at intervals78. The man kept firmly awake for fifteen minutes. His lids drooped79; he rubbed them with his knuckles80 and stared straight ahead; then he shifted his position, sighed, and blinked heavily.
Holding the bit of steel between finger and thumb, Lockwood began to saw at the cord with noiseless, imperceptible movements. By twisting his fingers he could just reach the rope, but he could bring very little force upon it. Fortunately the knife was almost razor sharp. Once he cut his own flesh; twice he dropped the knife and had to feel for it among the rags and corn shucks; but he could feel the strands81 parting, and at last his hands went freely apart.
The guard was dozing, blinking, evidently dazed with sleep. Lockwood sighed, snored, and drew his heels up to his body as if restless. The watchman paid no attention, and Lockwood reached down with his left hand and ripped through his ankle cords with half a minute’s quick work.
Then he hesitated, as a man may when his life depends on the dexterity of the next minute. The pirate had a sudden spell of wakefulness; he knuckled82 his eyes and stretched, and it was full twenty minutes before he relaxed into drowsiness83 again.
Lockwood gathered up the ragged48 blanket, and rose on his elbow, measuring the distance to the doorway. He slipped his shoeless feet over the ledge2 of the bunk—and then suddenly caught the wide-open, amazed eyes of his guard.
Before the man’s open mouth could produce its yell Lockwood flung the blanket over the candle, and bolted, crouching84 low, for the door. Black darkness fell behind him. There was a howl, a shot exploded with a deafening85 crash, and then an uproar86 of stamping feet, ejaculations, and another shot as he dived through the door. But then he was out and had jumped ashore upon the big log.
He halted bewildered. The dense fog lay all around him like a gray wall. A low fire on the shore made a pale blur87. That second of delay almost ruined him. A man plunged88 after him from the boat, running square into him. Lockwood caught him a heavy uppercut, putting all his energy of vindictiveness89 into it. It lifted the pirate clean off his feet, and he crashed over backward with a grunt90.
Lockwood rushed down to the other end of the boat. He was afraid to try the woods in that smother91 of dark and fog. He almost collided with another ruffian who was leaping ashore from the stern. The man grabbed at him and fired; but Lockwood had ducked, dropping flat. He smelled the water close to him. He wallowed forward, into thick, deep mud, then into deepening water.
“Hyar—hyar he goes!” he heard Blue Bob bellowing92. “Git pine splinters! Make a blaze, d—n you! He can’t git fur!”
Lockwood tried to sight the small canoe that usually trailed beside the house boat. He had counted on it, but nothing was visible. If he could secure it—but there was no use looking. Even the house boat was a mere93 blur of blackness. He crawled forward into the gloom and, getting into deeper water, began to swim with a long, noiseless stroke.
He was a good swimmer, and was practically stripped but for his trousers. Leaves, branches rustled94 over his head. He had come to the screened mouth of the bayou. He strove to push through without sound, but some snapping branch must have betrayed him. A perfect volley of shots were fired at him, ripping the leaves, driving up the water, but not one of them touched him. Careless of noise now, he struck out strongly and went through, and felt the powerful pull of the big river current outside.
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1
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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bunks
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| n.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的名词复数 )；空话，废话v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的第三人称单数 )；空话，废话 | |
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bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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pone
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| n.玉米饼 | |
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stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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stimulate
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| vt.刺激，使兴奋；激励，使…振奋 | |
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dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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catfish
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| n.鲶鱼 | |
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swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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fleas
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| n.跳蚤( flea的名词复数 )；爱财如命；没好气地（拒绝某人的要求） | |
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landmarks
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| n.陆标( landmark的名词复数 )；目标；（标志重要阶段的）里程碑 ~ (in sth)；有历史意义的建筑物（或遗址） | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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rattan
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| n.藤条，藤杖 | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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moored
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| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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vacuous
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| adj.空的，漫散的，无聊的，愚蠢的 | |
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sprouting
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| v.发芽( sprout的现在分词 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
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conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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malaria
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| n.疟疾 | |
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dexterity
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| n.(手的)灵巧，灵活 | |
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protruding
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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42
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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dice
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| n.骰子；vt.把（食物）切成小方块，冒险 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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46
shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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triangular
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| adj.三角（形）的，三者间的 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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doorways
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| n.门口，门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
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50
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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51
hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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52
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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53
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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54
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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resinous
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| adj.树脂的，树脂质的，树脂制的 | |
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lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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owls
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| n.猫头鹰( owl的名词复数 ) | |
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doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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tenaciously
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| 坚持地 | |
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bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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vigilant
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| adj.警觉的，警戒的，警惕的 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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strands
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| n.（线、绳、金属线、毛发等的）股( strand的名词复数 )；缕；海洋、湖或河的)岸；（观点、计划、故事等的）部份v.使滞留，使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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knuckled
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| v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的过去式和过去分词 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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vindictiveness
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| 恶毒；怀恨在心 | |
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grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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smother
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| vt./vi.使窒息；抑制；闷死；n.浓烟；窒息 | |
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bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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