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"She's down by de mouth ob de creek, sah, an' she sure am a mighty good boat. We could load her up right here, an' I'd be one ob de niggers fer ter take dem ladies down ribber. I'se a free boy, an' nobody care whar I done go."
The meal was enjoyed by all, even Tom eating his full share in spite of his swollen ankle, which was now gradually resuming its normal condition. Cujo had found the trail at a distance of an eighth of a mile above the wayside hostelry. "Him don't lead to de ribber dare," he said. "But I dun think somet'ing of him." "And what do you think?" asked Tom, from his seat on Aleck's back.
De country was all full ob secesh pickets, an' dere was de ribber, an' we had no boat, so Jim, he says, 'I know what to do; fust I'll hide you yere, an' he did all safe in de woods; 'an' den I'll git ye suthin to eat from de niggers round, an' he did dat too, do he couldn't git much, for fear he'd be seen; an' den we, he and I, made some ropes out ob de tall grass like dat we'd ofen made fur mats, an' tied dem together wid some oder grass, an' stuck a board in, an' den made fur de Yankee camp, an' yere we is."
"But dat's jest wat she am, sah, an' a heap sweeter dan de vi'lets in de springtime, sah." "And she actually told you my name?" "Yas, sah, she did dat fer suah 'Massa Geoffrey Benteen, an Englisher from up de ribber, dem was her bery words; but somehow I done disremember jest persactly de place."
"I tole Cap'n Gallup I'd been chased by hoss-thieves, an' had swum de ribber wid Challenger, but I didn' say nuffin' 'bout John Brown, for dat war de name Vina gabe de chile dat very day.
In the convalescent ward next door they were singing softly one of those spontaneous outbursts that have their origin in the hearts of people and a melody all their own: 'Way down upon de S'wanee Ribber, Far, far away, Dere's wha my heart is turnin' ebber Dere's wha de old folks stay.
It was no part of the knowledge of the lad, fourteen years old, who sat in the Idler's cabin between the harpooner and the sailor, the air rich in his nostrils with the musty smell of men's sea-gear, roaring in chorus: "Yankee ship come down de ribber pull, my bully boys, pull!" We grew maudlin, and all talked and shouted at once.
Glad of the excuse to get a little further away, Freddie ran back to where Dinah sat on a long shiny bench. "Say, chile," she began, "you hear dat music ober dar? Well, a big fat lady jest jumped up and down on dat machine and it starts up and plays Swanee Ribber." "That's a weighing machine," Nan said with a laugh.
As he came closer, a crowd of sailors sprang upon the forecastle head, and the windlass-bars rose and fell as the anchor was torn from its muddy bottom. "'Yankee ship come down the ribber!" the sea-lawyer's voice rolled out as he led the anchor song. "'Pull, my bully boys, pull!" roared back the old familiar chorus, the men's bodies lifting and bending to the rhythm.
"I I sure don'; an' fer de mattah o' dat, ther ain't nobody whut does, sah. All I does know, fer sure, is dat if a nigger onct gets as fer as a certain white man up de ribber, 'bout whar de mouth ob de Illinois is, he's got a mighty good chance fer ter reach Canada. De next place whar he's most likely ter stop is Beardstown, long wid som' sorter preacher whut lives thar.
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