Alone, unintimidated, but not altogether comfortable, Jimmy Phoebus
proceeded to bail out the old scow, and wished he had accepted one of
Jack Wonnell's hats to do the task, and, when he had finished it, the
stars and clouds were manoeuvring around each other in the sky, with
the clouds the more aggressive, and finally some drops of rain punctured
the long, bare muscles of the inflowing tide, making a reticule of
little pittings, like a net of beads on drifting women's tresses. As
night advanced, a puffing something ascended the broad, black aisle of
this forest river, and slowly the Norfolk steamboat rumbled past, with
passengers for the Philadelphia stage. Then silence drew a sheet of fog
around herself and passed into a cold torpor of repose, affected only by
the waves that licked the shores with intermittent thirst.
The waterman, regretting a little that he had not taken his stand at
Vienna, where human assistance might have been procured, and thinking
that the poison airs might also afflict him with Meshach Milburn's
complaints, fought sleep away till midnight, straining his eyes and ears
ever and anon for signs of some sail; but nothing drew near, and he had
insensibly closed his lids and might have soon been in deep sleep, but
that he suddenly heard, between his dreams and this world, something
like a little baby moaning in the night.
He sat up in the damp scow, where he had been lying, and listened with
all his senses wide open, and once again the cry was wafted upon the
river zephyrs, and before it died away the sailor's paddle was in the
water, and his frail, awkward vessel was darting across the tide.
Pages:
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332