Manly Wade Wellman - Novel 1954 by Rebel Mail Runner (v1.1) Read Free Book Online Page A

figure from here to the Mississippi ?” he asked.
                 “Twenty
miles, or nearly, counting all curves and turns,” was Captain Henry’s reply. “Fifteen more to Vicksburg by the big river below. See how the old Mississippi almost ties a knot in itself there.” Grimes
continued to study the scene. “There’s a bunch of transports lying along the bank this side. Downstream, two or three miles, they’ve got gunboats
strung across.” He handed back the glasses. “Thank you, Captain. Now, Barry and
I had better go down and practise.”
                 Returning
to the waterside, they stripped off their clothes and launched the dugout.
While the men of the guard detail watched curiously, they paddled out to
midstream. There, at Grimes’ word, they slid the paddles into the wire loops,
and leaned to one side until the gunwale went under water. The inside of the
boat filled rapidly. When it was sunk to within two inches of the top, Grimes
slipped overboard at the stern, Barry at the bow. They clung to the sides and
paddled with the saucepans.
                 “Mighty
slow and hard,” wheezed Grimes, toiling away. “And almost impossible to head
the way we want.”
                 “Listen,
I’ve a notion,” ventured Barry. “How would she go upside down? Painted gray,
whittled out of a tree-trunk, she’d look just like a log.”
                 “That’s
downright brilliant!” cried Grimes. “Haul down on one side; I’ll boost on the
other.”
                 It
was difficult to capsize the dugout with its weight of water, but they managed.
Upside down, the dug- out looked acceptably loglike, and Barry and Grimes,
clinging to the submerged gunwales and paddling with the pans, found they could
make better progress and steer after a fashion.
                 They
ate supper that night with the Haines’ Bluff guard, and slept on borrowed
blankets under the stars. At dawn of day they had breakfast with Captain Henry,
and at 6 o’clock went with several helpers to launch the dugout below the log jam. Clad only in
shirts and trousers, they pushed off.
                 “Good
luck!” called the soldiers after them as they dug in their paddles and guided themselves into midstream.
                 It
was a quiet journey, and a pleasant one. As the sun climbed high in the bright
blue of the sky, the May day grew warm. Grimes aft in
steering position, Barry at the bow, sent the dugout easily and with moderate
speed downriver. The current helped their progress.
                 “Don’t
work too hard, Barry,” cautioned Grimes. “The hard work will come later, in the Mississippi . Keep yourself fresh and steady.”
                 For
an hour they paddled easily, almost idly, between banks grown thick with quiet
green trees. All seemed peaceful, until, from somewhere southward, rose the deep, thundersome growl of guns, firing into Vicksburg ’s defenses. The distant bombardment
continued, with only brief intervals, until noon , when the two stopped near an abandoned
sawmill and ate a lunch of ham sandwiches and sweet cake. Grimes saved part of
their provisions for supper, and again they paddled down river, with a swifter
current to help them. By midafternoon they had come to the mouth of the Yazoo , and looked out across fully a mile of
brown water, the lower Mississippi .
                 “Take
care, Barry,” warned Grimes. “We’ll slide out at the very edge of the river. We
don’t want to be stopped and questioned.”
                They worked their way cautiously
along the levee at the left. In midstream moved a smoke-belching gunboat, its
deck crowned with a slope-sided, ironfaced structure from which protruded
cannon muzzles. Two supply vessels followed. Grimes steered the dugout behind a
brushy snag to wait until these had gone by. Then they moved carefully from one
bit of