Chapter 15

11 min

We judged that three nights more would fetch us to Cairo, at the bottom of Illinois, where the Ohio River comes in, and that was what we was after. We would sell the raft and get on a steamboat and go way up the Ohio amongst the free States, and then be out of trouble.

We figured three more nights would get us to Cairo, at the southern tip of Illinois. The Ohio River joins the Mississippi there, and Cairo was where we was headed. We would sell the raft and get on a steamboat. Then we would go way up the Ohio into the free States, and we'd be out of trouble.

Well, the second night a fog begun to come on, and we made for a tow-head to tie to, for it wouldn’t do to try to run in a fog; but when I paddled ahead in the canoe, with the line to make fast, there warn’t anything but little saplings to tie to. I passed the line around one of them right on the edge of the cut bank, but there was a stiff current, and the raft come booming down so lively she tore it out by the roots and away she went. I see the fog closing down, and it made me so sick and scared I couldn’t budge for most a half a minute it seemed to me—and then there warn’t no raft in sight; you couldn’t see twenty yards. I jumped into the canoe and run back to the stern, and grabbed the paddle and set her back a stroke. But she didn’t come. I was in such a hurry I hadn’t untied her. I got up and tried to untie her, but I was so excited my hands shook so I couldn’t hardly do anything with them.

Well, the second night a fog begun to come on, and we made for a tow-head to tie to, for it wouldn’t do to try to run in a fog. But when I paddled ahead in the canoe with the line to make fast, there wasn’t anything but little saplings to tie to. I passed the line around one of them right on the edge of the cut bank. But there was a stiff current, and the raft come booming down so lively she tore it out by the roots, and away she went. I see the fog closing down, and it made me so sick and scared I couldn’t budge for most a half a minute, it seemed to me. And then there wasn’t no raft in sight. You couldn’t see twenty yards. I jumped into the canoe and run back to the stern, and grabbed the paddle and set her back a stroke. But she didn’t come. I was in such a hurry I hadn’t untied her. I got up and tried to untie her, but I was so excited my hands shook so I couldn’t hardly do anything with them.

As soon as I got started I took out after the raft, hot and heavy, right down the tow-head. That was all right as far as it went, but the tow-head warn’t sixty yards long, and the minute I flew by the foot of it I shot out into the solid white fog, and hadn’t no more idea which way I was going than a dead man.

As soon as I got started, I took off after the raft, hot and heavy, right down the sandbar. That was all right as far as it went, but the sandbar wasn't sixty yards long. And the minute I flew past its end, I shot out into the thick white fog. I hadn't no more idea which way I was going than a dead man.

Thinks I, it won’t do to paddle; first I know I’ll run into the bank or a tow-head or something; I got to set still and float, and yet it’s mighty fidgety business to have to hold your hands still at such a time. I whooped and listened. Away down there somewheres I hears a small whoop, and up comes my spirits. I went tearing after it, listening sharp to hear it again. The next time it come, I see I warn’t heading for it, but heading away to the right of it. And the next time I was heading away to the left of it—and not gaining on it much either, for I was flying around, this way and that and t’other, but it was going straight ahead all the time.

Thinks I, it won’t do to paddle. First thing I know I’ll run into the bank or a tow-head or something. I got to set still and float, and yet it’s mighty fidgety business to have to hold your hands still at such a time. I whooped and listened. Away down there somewheres I hears a small whoop, and up comes my spirits. I went tearing after it, listening sharp to hear it again. The next time it come, I see I wasn’t heading for it, but heading away to the right of it. And the next time I was heading away to the left of it. And I wasn’t gaining on it much either, for I was flying around, this way and that and the other, but it was going straight ahead all the time.

I did wish the fool would think to beat a tin pan, and beat it all the time, but he never did, and it was the still places between the whoops that was making the trouble for me. Well, I fought along, and directly I hears the whoop behind me. I was tangled good now. That was somebody else’s whoop, or else I was turned around.

I did wish the fool would think to beat a tin pan, and keep beating it all the time. But he never did, and the quiet stretches between the whoops was making trouble for me. Well, I struggled on, and soon I hears the whoop behind me. I was really mixed up now. That was somebody else’s whoop, or else I was turned around.

I throwed the paddle down. I heard the whoop again; it was behind me yet, but in a different place; it kept coming, and kept changing its place, and I kept answering, till by-and-by it was in front of me again, and I knowed the current had swung the canoe’s head down-stream, and I was all right if that was Jim and not some other raftsman hollering. I couldn’t tell nothing about voices in a fog, for nothing don’t look natural nor sound natural in a fog.

I throwed the paddle down. I heard the whoop again. It was still behind me, but in a different place. The whoop kept coming and kept changing places, and I kept answering. After a while, it was in front of me again. I knowed the current had swung the canoe’s front end downstream. And I was all right if that was Jim and not some other raftsman hollering. I couldn’t tell nothing about voices in a fog, because nothing don’t look natural or sound natural in a fog.

The whooping went on, and in about a minute I come a-booming down on a cut bank with smoky ghosts of big trees on it, and the current throwed me off to the left and shot by, amongst a lot of snags that fairly roared, the current was tearing by them so swift.

The whooping went on. In about a minute I come rushing down toward a steep, eroded bank. Big trees stood on it like smoky ghosts. The current throwed me off to the left, and I shot past a lot of snags. The snags practically roared, the current was tearing past them so fast.

In another second or two it was solid white and still again. I set perfectly still then, listening to my heart thump, and I reckon I didn’t draw a breath while it thumped a hundred.

In another second or two, it was solid white and still again. I set perfectly still then, listening to my heart thump. And I reckon I didn’t take a breath while my heart thumped a hundred times.

I just give up then. I knowed what the matter was. That cut bank was an island, and Jim had gone down t’other side of it. It warn’t no tow-head that you could float by in ten minutes. It had the big timber of a regular island; it might be five or six miles long and more than half a mile wide.

I just give up then. I knowed what the matter was. That steep riverbank was part of an island, and Jim had gone down the other side of it. It wasn't no little sandy island that you could float by in ten minutes. It had the big trees of a regular island. The island might be five or six miles long and more than half a mile wide.

I kept quiet, with my ears cocked, about fifteen minutes, I reckon. I was floating along, of course, four or five miles an hour; but you don’t ever think of that. No, you feel like you are laying dead still on the water; and if a little glimpse of a snag slips by you don’t think to yourself how fast you’re going, but you catch your breath and think, my! how that snag’s tearing along. If you think it ain’t dismal and lonesome out in a fog that way by yourself in the night, you try it once—you’ll see.

I kept quiet, listening closely, for about fifteen minutes, I reckon. I was floating along, of course, four or five miles an hour. But you don’t ever think of that. No, you feel like you are laying dead still on the water. And if you catch a glimpse of a snag slipping by, you don’t think how fast you’re going. Instead, you catch your breath and think, my! How that snag’s tearing along. If you think it ain’t gloomy and lonesome out in a fog like that, alone at night, try it once. You’ll see.

Next, for about a half an hour, I whoops now and then; at last I hears the answer a long ways off, and tries to follow it, but I couldn’t do it, and directly I judged I’d got into a nest of tow-heads, for I had little dim glimpses of them on both sides of me—sometimes just a narrow channel between, and some that I couldn’t see I knowed was there because I’d hear the wash of the current against the old dead brush and trash that hung over the banks. Well, I warn’t long loosing the whoops down amongst the tow-heads; and I only tried to chase them a little while, anyway, because it was worse than chasing a Jack-o’-lantern. You never knowed a sound dodge around so, and swap places so quick and so much.

Next, for about half an hour, I whoops now and then. At last I hears an answer a long way off and tries to follow it, but I couldn’t. Before long, I figured I’d got into a cluster of little islands. I could just make them out on both sides of me, sometimes with only a narrow channel between them. Some I couldn’t see, but I knowed they was there. I could hear the current washing against the old dead brush and trash hanging over their banks. Well, I wasn’t long losing track of the whoops among the islands. And I only tried to chase the sounds a little while, anyway, because it was worse than chasing a Jack-o’-lantern. You never knowed a sound dodge around so, and change places so quick and so much.

I had to claw away from the bank pretty lively four or five times, to keep from knocking the islands out of the river; and so I judged the raft must be butting into the bank every now and then, or else it would get further ahead and clear out of hearing—it was floating a little faster than what I was.

Four or five times, I had to claw away from the bank pretty fast to keep from knocking the islands out of the river. So I judged the raft must be bumping into the bank every now and then. Otherwise, the raft would get farther ahead and clear out of hearing. It was floating a little faster than what I was.

Well, I seemed to be in the open river again by-and-by, but I couldn’t hear no sign of a whoop nowheres. I reckoned Jim had fetched up on a snag, maybe, and it was all up with him. I was good and tired, so I laid down in the canoe and said I wouldn’t bother no more. I didn’t want to go to sleep, of course; but I was so sleepy I couldn’t help it; so I thought I would take jest one little cat-nap.

Well, after a while I seemed to be out in the open river again. But I couldn’t hear no sign of a shout nowheres. I reckoned Jim had got caught on a snag, maybe, and it was all over for him. I was good and tired, so I laid down in the canoe and said I wouldn’t bother no more. I didn’t want to go to sleep, of course. But I was so sleepy I couldn’t help it. So I thought I would take just one little catnap.

But I reckon it was more than a cat-nap, for when I waked up the stars was shining bright, the fog was all gone, and I was spinning down a big bend stern first. First I didn’t know where I was; I thought I was dreaming; and when things began to come back to me they seemed to come up dim out of last week.

But I reckon it was more than a catnap, because when I waked up the stars was shining bright. The fog was all gone, and I was spinning backward down a big bend in the river. At first I didn’t know where I was. I thought I was dreaming. And when things began to come back to me, they seemed to come up dimly out of last week.

It was a monstrous big river here, with the tallest and the thickest kind of timber on both banks; just a solid wall, as well as I could see by the stars. I looked away down-stream, and seen a black speck on the water. I took after it; but when I got to it it warn’t nothing but a couple of sawlogs made fast together. Then I see another speck, and chased that; then another, and this time I was right. It was the raft.

It was a monstrous big river here, with the tallest and thickest trees on both banks. The trees looked like a solid wall, as well as I could see by the stars. I looked way downstream and seen a black speck on the water. I went after it, but when I got to it, it wasn't nothing but a couple of logs tied together. Then I see another speck and chased that. Then I chased another, and this time I was right. It was the raft.

When I got to it Jim was setting there with his head down between his knees, asleep, with his right arm hanging over the steering-oar. The other oar was smashed off, and the raft was littered up with leaves and branches and dirt. So she’d had a rough time.

When I got to the raft, Jim was setting there asleep, with his head down between his knees. His right arm was hanging over the steering oar. The other oar was broken off, and the raft was littered with leaves and branches and dirt. So she’d had a rough time.

I made fast and laid down under Jim’s nose on the raft, and began to gap, and stretch my fists out against Jim, and says:

I tied up and laid down on the raft right under Jim’s nose. I began to yawn and stretch my fists out toward Jim, and says:

“Hello, Jim, have I been asleep? Why didn’t you stir me up?”

“Hello, Jim, have I been asleep? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Goodness gracious, is dat you, Huck? En you ain’ dead—you ain’ drownded—you’s back agin? It’s too good for true, honey, it’s too good for true. Lemme look at you chile, lemme feel o’ you. No, you ain’ dead! you’s back agin, ’live en soun’, jis de same ole Huck—de same ole Huck, thanks to goodness!”

“Goodness gracious, is that you, Huck? And you ain’t dead? You ain’t drowned? You’s back again? It’s too good for true, honey, it’s too good for true. Let me look at you, child. Let me feel you. No, you ain’t dead! You’s back again, alive and sound, just the same old Huck. The same old Huck, thanks to goodness!”

“What’s the matter with you, Jim? You been a-drinking?”

“What’s the matter with you, Jim? You been drinking?”

“Drinkin’? Has I ben a-drinkin’? Has I had a chance to be a-drinkin’?”

“Drinking? Has I been drinking? Has I had a chance to be drinking?”

“Well, then, what makes you talk so wild?”

“How does I talk wild?”

“How? Why, hain’t you been talking about my coming back, and all that stuff, as if I’d been gone away?”

“How? Why, ain't you been talking about my coming back and all that stuff, as if I'd been away?”

“Huck—Huck Finn, you look me in de eye; look me in de eye. Hain’t you ben gone away?”

“Huck, Huck Finn, you look me in the eye. Look me in the eye. Ain’t you been gone away?”

“Gone away? Why, what in the nation do you mean? I hain’t been gone anywheres. Where would I go to?”

“Gone away? Why, what on earth do you mean? I ain't been gone anywhere. Where would I go to?”

“Well, looky here, boss, dey’s sumf’n wrong, dey is. Is I me, or who is I? Is I heah, or whah is I? Now dat’s what I wants to know.”

“Well, looky here, boss, there's something wrong, there is. Is I me, or who is I? Is I here, or where is I? Now that's what I wants to know.”

“Well, I think you’re here, plain enough, but I think you’re a tangle-headed old fool, Jim.”

“Well, I think you’re here, clearly enough. But I think you’re a muddleheaded old fool, Jim.”

“I is, is I? Well, you answer me dis: Didn’t you tote out de line in de canoe fer to make fas’ to de tow-head?”

“I is, is I? Well, you answer me this: Didn’t you tote out the rope in the canoe to tie it to the sandbar?”

“No, I didn’t. What tow-head? I hain’t see no tow-head.”

“No, I didn’t. What small island? I ain’t see no small island.”

“You hain’t seen no tow-head? Looky here, didn’t de line pull loose en de raf’ go a-hummin’ down de river, en leave you en de canoe behine in de fog?”

“You ain’t seen no wooded sandbar? Looky here, didn’t the line pull loose? And didn’t the raft go humming down the river, leaving you and the canoe behind in the fog?”

“What fog?”

“Why, de fog!—de fog dat’s been aroun’ all night. En didn’t you whoop, en didn’t I whoop, tell we got mix’ up in de islands en one un us got los’ en t’other one was jis’ as good as los’, ’kase he didn’ know whah he wuz? En didn’t I bust up agin a lot er dem islands en have a turrible time en mos’ git drownded? Now ain’ dat so, boss—ain’t it so? You answer me dat.”

“Why, the fog! The fog that’s been around all night. And didn’t you whoop, and didn’t I whoop, till we got mixed up in the islands? And one of us got lost, and the other one was just as good as lost, because he didn’t know where he was? And didn’t I bust up against a lot of those islands and have a terrible time and almost get drowned? Now ain’t that so, boss? Ain’t it so? You answer me that.”

“Well, this is too many for me, Jim. I hain’t seen no fog, nor no islands, nor no troubles, nor nothing. I been setting here talking with you all night till you went to sleep about ten minutes ago, and I reckon I done the same. You couldn’t a got drunk in that time, so of course you’ve been dreaming.”

“Well, this is too many for me, Jim. I ain’t seen no fog, nor no islands, nor no troubles, nor nothing. I been setting here talking with you all night till you went to sleep about ten minutes ago, and I reckon I done the same. You couldn’t have got drunk in that time, so of course you’ve been dreaming.”

“Dad fetch it, how is I gwyne to dream all dat in ten minutes?”

“Dad fetch it, how is I going to dream all that in ten minutes?”

“Well, hang it all, you did dream it, because there didn’t any of it happen.”

“But, Huck, it’s all jis’ as plain to me as—”

“But, Huck, it’s all just as plain to me as...”

“It don’t make no difference how plain it is; there ain’t nothing in it. I know, because I’ve been here all the time.”

“It don’t make no difference how plain it is. There ain’t nothing in it. I know, because I’ve been here all the time.”

Jim didn’t say nothing for about five minutes, but set there studying over it. Then he says:

Jim didn’t say nothing for about five minutes, but set there thinking it over. Then he says:

“Well, den, I reck’n I did dream it, Huck; but dog my cats ef it ain’t de powerfullest dream I ever see. En I hain’t ever had no dream b’fo’ dat’s tired me like dis one.”

“Well, then, I reckon I did dream it, Huck. But dog my cats if it ain't the powerfullest dream I ever see. And I ain't ever had no dream before that's tired me like this one.”

“Oh, well, that’s all right, because a dream does tire a body like everything sometimes. But this one was a staving dream; tell me all about it, Jim.”

“Oh, well, that’s all right, because a dream really does wear you out sometimes. But this was quite a dream. Tell me all about it, Jim.”

So Jim went to work and told me the whole thing right through, just as it happened, only he painted it up considerable. Then he said he must start in and “’terpret” it, because it was sent for a warning. He said the first tow-head stood for a man that would try to do us some good, but the current was another man that would get us away from him. The whoops was warnings that would come to us every now and then, and if we didn’t try hard to make out to understand them they’d just take us into bad luck, ’stead of keeping us out of it. The lot of tow-heads was troubles we was going to get into with quarrelsome people and all kinds of mean folks, but if we minded our business and didn’t talk back and aggravate them, we would pull through and get out of the fog and into the big clear river, which was the free States, and wouldn’t have no more trouble.

So Jim went to work and told me the whole thing right through, just as it happened. Only he dressed it up considerable. Then he said he must start in and “interpret” it, because it was sent as a warning. He said the first little sandy island stood for a man that would try to do us some good. But the current was another man that would get us away from him. The shouts was warnings that would come to us every now and then. If we didn’t try hard to understand them, they’d lead us into bad luck instead of keeping us out of it. All those little sandy islands was troubles we was going to get into with quarrelsome people and all kinds of mean folks. But if we minded our business and didn’t talk back and aggravate them, we would pull through. We would get out of the fog and into the big clear river, which stood for the free States. And we wouldn’t have no more trouble.

It had clouded up pretty dark just after I got on to the raft, but it was clearing up again now.

The sky had clouded up pretty dark just after I got onto the raft. But it was clearing up again now.

“Oh, well, that’s all interpreted well enough as far as it goes, Jim,” I says; “but what does these things stand for?”

“Oh, well, that’s all explained well enough as far as it goes, Jim,” I says. “But what does these things stand for?”

It was the leaves and rubbish on the raft and the smashed oar. You could see them first-rate now.

It was the leaves and trash on the raft and the broken oar. You could see them clearly now.

Jim looked at the trash, and then looked at me, and back at the trash again. He had got the dream fixed so strong in his head that he couldn’t seem to shake it loose and get the facts back into its place again right away. But when he did get the thing straightened around he looked at me steady without ever smiling, and says:

Jim looked at the trash, then looked at me, and back at the trash again. He had got the dream stuck so firmly in his head that he couldn’t seem to shake it loose. He couldn’t get the facts straight again right away. But when he did get things sorted out, he looked at me steady without ever smiling, and says:

“What do dey stan’ for? I’se gwyne to tell you. When I got all wore out wid work, en wid de callin’ for you, en went to sleep, my heart wuz mos’ broke bekase you wuz los’, en I didn’ k’yer no’ mo’ what become er me en de raf’. En when I wake up en fine you back agin, all safe en soun’, de tears come, en I could a got down on my knees en kiss yo’ foot, I’s so thankful. En all you wuz thinkin’ ’bout wuz how you could make a fool uv ole Jim wid a lie. Dat truck dah is trash; en trash is what people is dat puts dirt on de head er dey fren’s en makes ’em ashamed.”

“What do they stand for? I’s going to tell you. When I got all wore out with work, and with the calling for you, and went to sleep, my heart was most broke because you was lost, and I didn’t care no more what become of me and the raft. And when I wake up and find you back again, all safe and sound, the tears come, and I could have got down on my knees and kiss your foot, I’s so thankful. And all you was thinking about was how you could make a fool of old Jim with a lie. That truck there is trash. And trash is what people is that puts dirt on the head of their friends and makes them ashamed.”

Then he got up slow and walked to the wigwam, and went in there without saying anything but that. But that was enough. It made me feel so mean I could almost kissed his foot to get him to take it back.

Then he got up slow and walked to the wigwam. He went inside without saying anything more. But what he'd said was enough. His words made me feel so ashamed I could almost kissed his foot to get him to take them back.

It was fifteen minutes before I could work myself up to go and humble myself to a ; but I done it, and I warn’t ever sorry for it afterwards, neither. I didn’t do him no more mean tricks, and I wouldn’t done that one if I’d a knowed it would make him feel that way.

It took fifteen minutes before I could bring myself to go and humble myself to a . But I done it, and I wasn’t ever sorry for it afterward, neither. I didn’t do him no more mean tricks. And I wouldn’t have done that one if I’d have knowed it would make him feel that way.