“What’s that?” I said, clutching Nick.

“Benjy,” said he; “thank God he did not die of fright.”  We lighted a candle, and poking around, found the negro where he had crept into the farthest corner of a bunk with his face to the wall.  And when we touched him he gave vent to a yell that was blood-curdling.

“I’se a bad nigger, Lo’d, yes, I is,” he moaned.  “I ain’t fit fo’ jedgment, Lo’d.”

Nick shook him and laughed.

“Come out of that, Benjy,” he said; “you’ve got another chance.”

Benjy turned, perforce, the whites of his eyes gleaming in the candle-light, and stared at us.

“You ain’t gone yit, Marse,” he said.

“Gone where?” said Nick.

“I’se done been tole de quality ’ll be jedged fust, Marse.”

Nick hauled him out on the floor.  Climbing to the deck, we found that the boat was already under way, running southward in the current through the misty rain.  And gazing shoreward, a sight met my eyes which I shall never forget.  A wide vista, carpeted with wreckage, was cut through the forest to the river’s edge, and the yellow water was strewn for miles with green boughs.  We stared down it, overwhelmed, until we had passed beyond its line.

“It is as straight,” said Nick, “as straight as one of her Majesty’s alleys I saw cut through the forest at Saint-Cloud.”

* * * * * * *

Had I space and time to give a faithful account of this journey it would be chiefly a tribute to Xavier’s skill, for they who have not put themselves at the mercy of the Mississippi in a small craft can have no idea of the dangers of such a voyage.  Infinite experience, a keen eye, a steady hand, and a nerve of iron are required.  Now, when the current swirled almost to a rapid, we grazed a rock by the width of a ripple; and again, despite the effort of Xavier and the crew, we would tear the limbs from a huge tree, which, had we hit it fair, would have ripped us from bow to stern.  Once, indeed, we were fast on a sand-bar, whence (as Nick said) Xavier fairly cursed us off.  We took care to moor at night, where we could be seen as little as possible from the river, and divided the watches lest we should be surprised by Indians.  And, as we went southward, our hands and faces became blotched all over by the bites of mosquitoes and flies, and we smothered ourselves under blankets to get rid of them.  At times we fished, and one evening, after we had passed the expanse of water at the mouth of the Ohio, Nick pulled a hideous thing from the inscrutable yellow depths,—­a slimy, scaleless catfish.  He came up like a log, and must have weighed seventy pounds.  Xavier and his men and myself made two good meals of him, but Nick would not touch the meat.