Chapter 13

11 min

Tom’s mind was made up now. He was gloomy and desperate. He was a forsaken, friendless boy, he said; nobody loved him; when they found out what they had driven him to, perhaps they would be sorry; he had tried to do right and get along, but they would not let him; since nothing would do them but to be rid of him, let it be so; and let them blame him for the consequences—why shouldn’t they? What right had the friendless to complain? Yes, they had forced him to it at last: he would lead a life of crime. There was no choice.

Tom had made up his mind now. He was miserable and desperate. He was an abandoned boy with no friends, he told himself. Nobody loved him. When they found out what they had driven him to, perhaps they would be sorry. He had tried to do the right thing and get along, but they would not let him. Since they wanted nothing but to get rid of him, they could have their way. And let them blame him for the consequences. Why shouldn’t they? What right did a boy with no friends have to complain? Yes, they had finally forced him into it: he would lead a life of crime. There was no choice.

By this time he was far down Meadow Lane, and the bell for school to “take up” tinkled faintly upon his ear. He sobbed, now, to think he should never, never hear that old familiar sound any more—it was very hard, but it was forced on him; since he was driven out into the cold world, he must submit—but he forgave them. Then the sobs came thick and fast.

By now he was far down Meadow Lane, and he could faintly hear the bell for school to “start.” He sobbed now, thinking he would never, never hear that old familiar sound again. It was very hard, but he had no choice. Since he was being driven out into the cold world, he had to accept it. But he forgave them. Then his sobs came thick and fast.

Just at this point he met his soul’s sworn comrade, Joe Harper—hard-eyed, and with evidently a great and dismal purpose in his heart. Plainly here were “two souls with but a single thought.” Tom, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, began to blubber out something about a resolution to escape from hard usage and lack of sympathy at home by roaming abroad into the great world never to return; and ended by hoping that Joe would not forget him.

Just then he met his closest friend and sworn companion, Joe Harper. Joe had a hard look in his eyes and clearly had some grand, gloomy plan in his heart. Here, plainly, were “two souls with just one thought.” Tom wiped his eyes with his sleeve and began sobbing out his decision to run away. He wanted to escape harsh treatment and a lack of sympathy at home by wandering the wide world, never returning. He ended by saying he hoped Joe would not forget him.

But it transpired that this was a request which Joe had just been going to make of Tom, and had come to hunt him up for that purpose. His mother had whipped him for drinking some cream which he had never tasted and knew nothing about; it was plain that she was tired of him and wished him to go; if she felt that way, there was nothing for him to do but succumb; he hoped she would be happy, and never regret having driven her poor boy out into the unfeeling world to suffer and die.

But it turned out that Joe had been about to make the same request of Tom. He had come looking for Tom for that very reason. His mother had whipped him for drinking some cream he had never tasted and knew nothing about. Clearly, she was tired of him and wanted him to leave. If she felt that way, he had no choice but to give in. He hoped she would be happy and never regret driving her poor boy out into the heartless world to suffer and die.

As the two boys walked sorrowing along, they made a new compact to stand by each other and be brothers and never separate till death relieved them of their troubles. Then they began to lay their plans. Joe was for being a hermit, and living on crusts in a remote cave, and dying, some time, of cold and want and grief; but after listening to Tom, he conceded that there were some conspicuous advantages about a life of crime, and so he consented to be a pirate.

As the two boys walked sadly along, they made a new pact to stand by each other and be brothers. They would never part until death freed them from their troubles. Then they began making plans. Joe wanted to be a hermit, living on crusts of bread in a remote cave. Someday he would die of cold, hunger, and grief. But after listening to Tom, Joe admitted that a life of crime had some clear advantages. So he agreed to be a pirate.

Three miles below St. Petersburg, at a point where the Mississippi River was a trifle over a mile wide, there was a long, narrow, wooded island, with a shallow bar at the head of it, and this offered well as a rendezvous. It was not inhabited; it lay far over toward the further shore, abreast a dense and almost wholly unpeopled forest. So Jackson’s Island was chosen. Who were to be the subjects of their piracies was a matter that did not occur to them. Then they hunted up Huckleberry Finn, and he joined them promptly, for all careers were one to him; he was indifferent. They presently separated to meet at a lonely spot on the river-bank two miles above the village at the favorite hour—which was midnight. There was a small log raft there which they meant to capture. Each would bring hooks and lines, and such provision as he could steal in the most dark and mysterious way—as became outlaws. And before the afternoon was done, they had all managed to enjoy the sweet glory of spreading the fact that pretty soon the town would “hear something.” All who got this vague hint were cautioned to “be mum and wait.”

Three miles below St. Petersburg lay a long, narrow, wooded island. The Mississippi River was a little over a mile wide there. A shallow sandbar lay at the island’s upstream end, making it a good meeting place. No one lived on the island. It lay far out toward the opposite shore, across from a thick forest where almost no one lived. So they chose Jackson’s Island. It never occurred to them to wonder whom they would rob as pirates. Then they went looking for Huckleberry Finn, who joined them at once. One career was as good as another to him. He didn’t care. They soon split up, agreeing to meet at a lonely spot on the riverbank two miles above the village. They chose their favorite hour, midnight. A small log raft lay there, and they planned to capture it. Each would bring fishing hooks and lines, along with whatever supplies he could steal. They would steal them in the darkest, most mysterious way possible, as outlaws should. Before the afternoon was over, all of them had enjoyed the sweet glory of spreading a hint. Pretty soon, the town would “hear something.” Everyone who got this vague hint was warned to “keep quiet and wait.”

About midnight Tom arrived with a boiled ham and a few trifles, and stopped in a dense undergrowth on a small bluff overlooking the meeting-place. It was starlight, and very still. The mighty river lay like an ocean at rest. Tom listened a moment, but no sound disturbed the quiet. Then he gave a low, distinct whistle. It was answered from under the bluff. Tom whistled twice more; these signals were answered in the same way. Then a guarded voice said:

Around midnight, Tom arrived with a boiled ham and a few other small things. He stopped in thick bushes on a small bluff overlooking the meeting place. The stars were out, and everything was very still. The mighty river lay like an ocean at rest. Tom listened for a moment, but no sound broke the silence. Then he gave a low, clear whistle. An answering whistle came from below the bluff. Tom whistled twice more, and each signal received the same answer. Then a cautious voice said:

“Who goes there?”

“Who’s there?”

“Tom Sawyer, the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main. Name your names.”

“Tom Sawyer, the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main. Tell me your names.”

“Huck Finn the Red-Handed, and Joe Harper the Terror of the Seas.” Tom had furnished these titles, from his favorite literature.

“Huck Finn the Red-Handed, and Joe Harper the Terror of the Seas.” Tom had taken these titles from his favorite books.

“’Tis well. Give the countersign.”

“All right. Give the password.”

Two hoarse whispers delivered the same awful word simultaneously to the brooding night:

Two hoarse whispers spoke the same terrible word at the same time into the dark, gloomy night:

“Blood!”

Then Tom tumbled his ham over the bluff and let himself down after it, tearing both skin and clothes to some extent in the effort. There was an easy, comfortable path along the shore under the bluff, but it lacked the advantages of difficulty and danger so valued by a pirate.

Then Tom sent his ham tumbling over the bluff and climbed down after it. He scraped his skin and tore his clothes a little in the process. An easy, comfortable path ran along the shore below the bluff. But the path lacked the difficulty and danger that a pirate valued so highly.

The Terror of the Seas had brought a side of bacon, and had about worn himself out with getting it there. Finn the Red-Handed had stolen a skillet and a quantity of half-cured leaf tobacco, and had also brought a few corn-cobs to make pipes with. But none of the pirates smoked or “chewed” but himself. The Black Avenger of the Spanish Main said it would never do to start without some fire. That was a wise thought; matches were hardly known there in that day. They saw a fire smouldering upon a great raft a hundred yards above, and they went stealthily thither and helped themselves to a chunk. They made an imposing adventure of it, saying, “Hist!” every now and then, and suddenly halting with finger on lip; moving with hands on imaginary dagger-hilts; and giving orders in dismal whispers that if “the foe” stirred, to “let him have it to the hilt,” because “dead men tell no tales.” They knew well enough that the raftsmen were all down at the village laying in stores or having a spree, but still that was no excuse for their conducting this thing in an unpiratical way.

The Terror of the Seas had brought a side of bacon and had nearly worn himself out carrying it there. Finn the Red-Handed had stolen a skillet and some partly cured tobacco leaves. He had also brought a few corncobs to make pipes with. But none of the pirates smoked or “chewed” except him. The Black Avenger of the Spanish Main said they couldn't possibly set off without some fire. That was a wise thought. Matches were hardly known there in those days. They spotted a fire smoldering on a large raft a hundred yards upstream. They sneaked over and helped themselves to a burning chunk of wood. They made a grand adventure of it, saying, “Shh!” now and then and suddenly stopping with fingers to their lips. They moved with their hands on imaginary dagger handles. In grim whispers, they gave orders that if “the enemy” stirred, they should “stab him to the hilt,” because “dead men tell no tales.” They knew perfectly well that the raftsmen were all down in the village, stocking up on supplies or out drinking. But that was still no excuse for handling the adventure in a way unworthy of pirates.

They shoved off, presently, Tom in command, Huck at the after oar and Joe at the forward. Tom stood amidships, gloomy-browed, and with folded arms, and gave his orders in a low, stern whisper:

They soon pushed off, with Tom in command, Huck at the rear oar, and Joe at the front oar. Tom stood in the middle of the boat, frowning, with his arms folded. He gave his orders in a low, stern whisper:

“Luff, and bring her to the wind!”

“Turn her into the wind!”

“Aye-aye, sir!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Steady, steady-y-y-y!”

“Steady, steady!”

“Steady it is, sir!”

“Keeping it steady, sir!”

“Let her go off a point!”

“Let her turn one compass point!”

“Point it is, sir!”

As the boys steadily and monotonously drove the raft toward mid-stream it was no doubt understood that these orders were given only for “style,” and were not intended to mean anything in particular.

The boys steadily pushed the raft toward the middle of the river, repeating the same motions over and over. No doubt they understood that the orders were given only for “show.” The orders weren't meant to mean anything in particular.

“What sail’s she carrying?”

“What sail is she carrying?”

“Courses, tops’ls, and flying-jib, sir.”

“Courses, topsails, and flying jib, sir.”

“Send the r’yals up! Lay out aloft, there, half a dozen of ye—foretopmaststuns’l! Lively, now!”

“Raise the royal sails! Half a dozen of you, get up into the rigging! Set the foretopmast studding sail! Hurry, now!”

“Aye-aye, sir!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Shake out that maintogalans’l! Sheets and braces! now my hearties!”

“Unfurl that main topgallant sail! Sheets and braces! now my hearties!”

“Aye-aye, sir!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Hellum-a-lee—hard a port! Stand by to meet her when she comes! Port, port! Now, men! With a will! Stead-y-y-y!”

“Helm to leeward! Hard to port! Be ready to steady her when she turns! Port, port! Now, men! Give it your all! Steady!”

“Steady it is, sir!”

“Holding steady, sir!”

The raft drew beyond the middle of the river; the boys pointed her head right, and then lay on their oars. The river was not high, so there was not more than a two or three mile current. Hardly a word was said during the next three-quarters of an hour. Now the raft was passing before the distant town. Two or three glimmering lights showed where it lay, peacefully sleeping, beyond the vague vast sweep of star-gemmed water, unconscious of the tremendous event that was happening. The Black Avenger stood still with folded arms, “looking his last” upon the scene of his former joys and his later sufferings, and wishing “she” could see him now, abroad on the wild sea, facing peril and death with dauntless heart, going to his doom with a grim smile on his lips. It was but a small strain on his imagination to remove Jackson’s Island beyond eye-shot of the village, and so he “looked his last” with a broken and satisfied heart. The other pirates were looking their last, too; and they all looked so long that they came near letting the current drift them out of the range of the island. But they discovered the danger in time, and made shift to avert it. About two o’clock in the morning the raft grounded on the bar two hundred yards above the head of the island, and they waded back and forth until they had landed their freight. Part of the little raft’s belongings consisted of an old sail, and this they spread over a nook in the bushes for a tent to shelter their provisions; but they themselves would sleep in the open air in good weather, as became outlaws.

The raft drew past the middle of the river. The boys pointed her bow on course and then rested on their oars. The river was not high, so the current was no more than two or three miles an hour. Hardly a word was said for the next three-quarters of an hour. Now the raft was passing the distant town. Two or three glimmering lights showed where it lay, peacefully sleeping beyond the vague, vast sweep of star-gemmed water, unaware of the tremendous event that was happening. The Black Avenger stood still with folded arms, “looking his last” upon the scene of his former joys and his later sufferings. He wished “she” could see him now, out on the wild sea, facing peril and death with a dauntless heart, going to his doom with a grim smile on his lips. It took only a small stretch of his imagination to move Jackson’s Island out of sight of the village, and so he “looked his last” with a broken and satisfied heart. The other pirates were looking their last, too, and they all looked so long that they nearly let the current drift them out of range of the island. But they discovered the danger in time and managed to avoid it. About two o’clock in the morning the raft ran aground on the sandbar two hundred yards above the head of the island, and they waded back and forth until they had landed their cargo. Part of the little raft’s belongings was an old sail, and they spread this over a nook in the bushes as a tent to shelter their supplies. But they themselves would sleep in the open air in good weather, as befitted outlaws.

They built a fire against the side of a great log twenty or thirty steps within the sombre depths of the forest, and then cooked some bacon in the frying-pan for supper, and used up half of the corn “pone” stock they had brought. It seemed glorious sport to be feasting in that wild, free way in the virgin forest of an unexplored and uninhabited island, far from the haunts of men, and they said they never would return to civilization. The climbing fire lit up their faces and threw its ruddy glare upon the pillared tree-trunks of their forest temple, and upon the varnished foliage and festooning vines.

They built a fire against a huge log, twenty or thirty steps into the dark forest. Then they cooked some bacon in the frying pan for supper and ate half the corn “pone” they had brought. Feasting in that wild, free way seemed like glorious fun. They were in the untouched forest of an unexplored, uninhabited island, far from anywhere people lived. They said they would never return to civilization. The rising flames lit their faces and cast a reddish glow on the tree trunks, like pillars in their forest temple. The glow also lit the glossy leaves and vines hanging in loops.

When the last crisp slice of bacon was gone, and the last allowance of corn pone devoured, the boys stretched themselves out on the grass, filled with contentment. They could have found a cooler place, but they would not deny themselves such a romantic feature as the roasting campfire.

The boys ate the last crisp slice of bacon and finished the last of their cornbread. Then they stretched out on the grass, completely content. They could have found a cooler spot, but they refused to give up the romance of the blazing campfire.

“Ain’t it gay?” said Joe.

“Ain’t it fun?” said Joe.

“It’s nuts!” said Tom. “What would the boys say if they could see us?”

“It’s great!” said Tom. “What would the boys say if they could see us?”

“Say? Well, they’d just die to be here—hey, Hucky!”

“Say? Well, they’d just die to be here, right, Hucky!”

“I reckon so,” said Huckleberry; “anyways, I’m suited. I don’t want nothing better’n this. I don’t ever get enough to eat, gen’ally—and here they can’t come and pick at a feller and bullyrag him so.”

“I reckon so,” said Huckleberry. “Anyways, I’m satisfied. I don’t want nothing better than this. Generally, I don’t ever get enough to eat. And here they can’t come and pick on a fellow and bully him so much.”

“It’s just the life for me,” said Tom. “You don’t have to get up, mornings, and you don’t have to go to school, and wash, and all that blame foolishness. You see a pirate don’t have to do anything, Joe, when he’s ashore, but a hermit he has to be praying considerable, and then he don’t have any fun, anyway, all by himself that way.”

“It’s just the life for me,” said Tom. “You don’t have to get up in the mornings. And you don’t have to go to school, or wash, or all that blame foolishness. You see, a pirate don’t have to do anything, Joe, when he’s on shore. But a hermit, he has to be praying considerable. And then he don’t have any fun anyway, all by himself like that.”

“Oh yes, that’s so,” said Joe, “but I hadn’t thought much about it, you know. I’d a good deal rather be a pirate, now that I’ve tried it.”

“Oh yes, that’s true,” said Joe, “but I hadn’t thought much about it, you know. I’d much rather be a pirate, now that I’ve tried it.”

“You see,” said Tom, “people don’t go much on hermits, nowadays, like they used to in old times, but a pirate’s always respected. And a hermit’s got to sleep on the hardest place he can find, and put sackcloth and ashes on his head, and stand out in the rain, and—”

“You see,” said Tom, “people don’t think much of hermits nowadays, like they used to in the old days. But a pirate’s always respected. And a hermit’s got to sleep on the hardest spot he can find. And he’s got to put sackcloth and ashes on his head, and stand out in the rain, and...”

“What does he put sackcloth and ashes on his head for?” inquired Huck.

“Why does he put sackcloth and ashes on his head?” asked Huck.

“I dono. But they’ve got to do it. Hermits always do. You’d have to do that if you was a hermit.”

“I don’t know. But they’ve got to do it. Hermits always do. You’d have to do that if you was a hermit.”

“Dern’d if I would,” said Huck.

“Darned if I would,” said Huck.

“Well, what would you do?”

“I dono. But I wouldn’t do that.”

“I don’t know. But I wouldn’t do that.”

“Why, Huck, you’d have to. How’d you get around it?”

“Well, Huck, you’d have to. How would you get around it?”

“Why, I just wouldn’t stand it. I’d run away.”

“Well, I just wouldn’t put up with it. I’d run away.”

“Run away! Well, you would be a nice old slouch of a hermit. You’d be a disgrace.”

“Run away! Well, you would make a fine old slouch of a hermit. You’d be a disgrace.”

The Red-Handed made no response, being better employed. He had finished gouging out a cob, and now he fitted a weed stem to it, loaded it with tobacco, and was pressing a coal to the charge and blowing a cloud of fragrant smoke—he was in the full bloom of luxurious contentment. The other pirates envied him this majestic vice, and secretly resolved to acquire it shortly. Presently Huck said:

The Red-Handed did not answer, because he had something better to do. He had finished hollowing out a corncob. Now he fitted a weed stem to it and filled the pipe with tobacco. He pressed a hot coal against the tobacco and blew out a cloud of fragrant smoke. He was utterly content, enjoying every moment. The other pirates envied his grand vice and secretly decided to take up smoking soon. Then Huck said:

“What does pirates have to do?”

Tom said:

“Oh, they have just a bully time—take ships and burn them, and get the money and bury it in awful places in their island where there’s ghosts and things to watch it, and kill everybody in the ships—make ’em walk a plank.”

“Oh, they have a great time. They capture ships and burn them, and take the money. They bury it in scary places on their island, where there’s ghosts and things to guard it. And they kill everybody on the ships by making them walk the plank.”

“And they carry the women to the island,” said Joe; “they don’t kill the women.”

“And they take the women to the island,” said Joe. “They don’t kill the women.”

“No,” assented Tom, “they don’t kill the women—they’re too noble. And the women’s always beautiful, too.”

“No,” Tom agreed, “they don’t kill the women because they’re too noble. And the women’s always beautiful, too.”

“And don’t they wear the bulliest clothes! Oh no! All gold and silver and di’monds,” said Joe, with enthusiasm.

“And don’t they wear the coolest clothes! Oh no! All gold and silver and diamonds,” said Joe enthusiastically.

“Who?” said Huck.

“Who?” Huck asked.

“Why, the pirates.”

Huck scanned his own clothing forlornly.

Huck looked sadly over his own clothes.

“I reckon I ain’t dressed fitten for a pirate,” said he, with a regretful pathos in his voice; “but I ain’t got none but these.”

“I reckon I ain’t dressed fit for a pirate,” he said, his voice full of touching regret. “But I ain’t got none but these.”

But the other boys told him the fine clothes would come fast enough, after they should have begun their adventures. They made him understand that his poor rags would do to begin with, though it was customary for wealthy pirates to start with a proper wardrobe.

But the other boys told him he would get fine clothes soon enough once their adventures began. They explained that his shabby rags would do for a start, though wealthy pirates usually began with a proper wardrobe.

Gradually their talk died out and drowsiness began to steal upon the eyelids of the little waifs. The pipe dropped from the fingers of the Red-Handed, and he slept the sleep of the conscience-free and the weary. The Terror of the Seas and the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main had more difficulty in getting to sleep. They said their prayers inwardly, and lying down, since there was nobody there with authority to make them kneel and recite aloud; in truth, they had a mind not to say them at all, but they were afraid to proceed to such lengths as that, lest they might call down a sudden and special thunderbolt from heaven. Then at once they reached and hovered upon the imminent verge of sleep—but an intruder came, now, that would not “down.” It was conscience. They began to feel a vague fear that they had been doing wrong to run away; and next they thought of the stolen meat, and then the real torture came. They tried to argue it away by reminding conscience that they had purloined sweetmeats and apples scores of times; but conscience was not to be appeased by such thin plausibilities; it seemed to them, in the end, that there was no getting around the stubborn fact that taking sweetmeats was only “hooking,” while taking bacon and hams and such valuables was plain simple stealing—and there was a command against that in the Bible. So they inwardly resolved that so long as they remained in the business, their piracies should not again be sullied with the crime of stealing. Then conscience granted a truce, and these curiously inconsistent pirates fell peacefully to sleep.

Gradually their talk faded, and the little wanderers’ eyelids grew heavy. The pipe slipped from the Red-Handed’s fingers. He slept soundly, tired and free of guilt. The Terror of the Seas and the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main had more trouble falling asleep. They said their prayers silently, lying down. Nobody there had the authority to make them kneel and say their prayers aloud. In fact, they had thought of skipping their prayers altogether, but they were afraid to go that far. They might bring down a sudden thunderbolt from heaven, aimed especially at them. Then they were just on the edge of sleep. But now an intruder arrived that would not stay “down.” It was conscience. They began to feel vaguely afraid that running away had been wrong. Next they thought of the stolen meat, and then the real torment began. They tried to argue with their consciences, pointing out that they had stolen sweets and apples dozens of times. But such weak excuses could not quiet their consciences. In the end, they felt there was no escaping one stubborn fact. Taking sweets was only “hooking,” while taking bacon, hams, and other valuables was plain stealing. And the Bible had a commandment against that. So they silently decided that, as long as they stayed in the business, stealing would never again disgrace their piracy. Then their consciences agreed to a truce, and these strangely inconsistent pirates fell peacefully asleep.