| WE slept most all day, and started out at night, a little ways behind a monstrous long raft that was as long going by as a procession. She had four long sweeps at each end, so we judged she carried as many as thirty men, likely. She had five big wigwams aboard, wide apart, and an open camp fire in the middle, and a tall flag-pole at each end. There was a power of style about her. It amounted to something being a raftsman on such a craft as that. We went drifting down into a big bend, and the night clouded up and got hot. The river was very wide, and was walled with solid timber on both sides; you couldn’t see a break in it hardly ever, or a light. We talked about Cairo, and wondered whether we would know it when we got to it. I said likely we wouldn’t, because I had heard say there warn’t but about a dozen houses there, and if they didn’t happen to have them lit up, how was we going to know we was ing a town? Jim said if the two big rivers ed together there, that would show. But I said maybe we might think we was ing the foot of an island and coming into the same old river again. That disturbed Jim—and me too. So the question was, what to do? I said, paddle ashore the first time a light showed, and tell them pap was behind, coming along with a trading-scow, and was a green hand at the business, and wanted to know how far it was to Cairo. Jim thought it was a good idea, so we took a smoke on it and waited. There warn’t nothing to do now but to look out sharp for the town, and not it without seeing it. He said he’d be mighty sure to see it, because he’d be a free man the minute he seen it, but if he missed it he’d be in a slave country again and no more show for freedom. Every little while he jumps up and says:
“Dah she is?”
But it warn’t. It was Jack-o’-lanterns, or lightning bugs; so he set down again, and went to watching, same as before. Jim said it made him all over trembly and feverish to be so close to freedom. Well, I can tell you it made me all over trembly and feverish, too, to hear him, because I begun to get it through my head that he was most free—and who was to blame for it? Why, me. I couldn’t get that out of my conscience, no how nor no way. It got to troubling me so I couldn’t rest; I couldn’t stay still in one place. It hadn’t ever come home to me before, what this thing was that I was doing. But now it did; and it stayed with me, and scorched me more and more. I tried to make out to myself that I warn’t to blame, because I didn’t run Jim off from his rightful owner; but it warn’t no use, conscience up and says, every time, “But you knowed he was running for his freedom, and you could a paddled ashore and told somebody.” That was so—I couldn’t get around that noway. That was where it pinched. Conscience says to me, “What had poor Miss Watson done to you that you could see her nigger go off right under your eyes and never say one single word? What did that poor old woman do to you that you could treat her so mean? Why, she tried to learn you your book, she tried to learn you your manners, she tried to be good to you every way she knowed how. That’s what she done.” I got to feeling so mean and so miserable I most wished I was dead. I fidgeted up and down the raft, abusing myself to myself, and Jim was fidgeting up and down past me. We neither of us could keep still. Every time he danced around and says, “Dah’s Cairo!” it went through me like a shot, and I thought if it was Cairo I reckoned I would die of miserableness. Jim talked out loud all the time while I was talking to myself. He was saying how the first thing he would do when he got to a free State he would go to saving up money and never spend a single cent, and when he got enough he would buy his wife, which was owned on a farm close to where Miss Watson lived; and then they would both work to buy the two children, and if their master wouldn’t sell them, they’d get an Ab’litionist to go and steal them.
It most froze me to hear such talk. He wouldn’t ever dared to talk such talk in his life before. Just see what a difference it made in him the minute he judged he was about free. It was according to the old saying, “Give a nigger an inch and he’ll take an ell.” Thinks I, this is what comes of my not thinking. Here was this nigger, which I had as good as helped to run away, coming right out flat-footed and saying he would steal his children—children that belonged to a man I didn’t even know; a man that hadn’t ever done me no harm.
I was sorry to hear Jim say that, it was such a lowering of him. My conscience got to stirring me up hotter than ever, until at last I says to it, “Let up on me—it ain’t too late yet—I’ll paddle ashore at the first light and tell.” I felt easy and happy and light as a feather right off. All my troubles was gone. I went to looking out sharp for a light, and sort of singing to myself. By and by one showed. Jim sings out: “We’s safe, Huck, we’s safe! Jump up and crack yo’ heels! Dat’s de good ole Cairo at las’, I jis knows it!”
I says:
“I’ll take the canoe and go and see, Jim. It mightn’t be, you know.”
He jumped and got the canoe ready, and put his old coat in the bottom for me to set on, and give me the paddle; and as I shoved off, he says:
“Pooty soon I’ll be a-shout’n’ for joy, en I’ll say, it’s all on s o’ Huck; I’s a free man, en I couldn’t ever ben free ef it hadn’ ben for Huck; Huck done it. Jim won’t ever forgit you, Huck; you’s de bes’ fren’ Jim’s ever had; en you’s de only fren’ ole Jim’s got now.”
I was paddling off, all in a sweat to tell on him; but when he says this, it seemed to kind of take the tuck all out of me. I went along slow then, and I warn’t right down certain whether I was glad I started or whether I warn’t. When I was fifty yards off, Jim says:
“Dah you goes, de ole true Huck; de on’y white genlman dat ever kep’ his promise to ole Jim.”
Well, I just felt sick. But I says, I got to do it—I can’t get out of it. Right then along comes a skiff with two men in it with guns, and they stopped and I stopped. One of them says:
“What’s that yonder?”
“A piece of a raft,” I says.
“Do you belong on it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any men on it?”
“Only one, sir.”
“Well, there’s five niggers run off to-night up yonder, above the head of the bend. Is your man white or black?”
I didn’t answer up prompt. I tried to, but the words wouldn’t come. I tried for a second or two to brace up and out with it, but I warn’t man enough—hadn’t the spunk of a rabbit. I see I was weakening; so I just give up trying, and up and says:
“He’s white.”
“I reckon we’ll go and see for ourselves.”
“I wish you would,” says I, “because it’s pap that’s there, and maybe you’d help me tow the raft ashore where the light is. He’s sick—and so is mam and Mary Ann.”
“Oh, the devil! we’re in a hurry, boy. But I s’pose we’ve got to. Come, buckle to your paddle, and let’s get along.”
I buckled to my paddle and they laid to their oars. When we had made a stroke or two, I says:
“Pap’ll be mighty much obleeged to you, I can tell you. Everybody goes away when I want them to help me tow the raft ashore, and I can’t do it by myself.”
“Well, that’s infernal mean. Odd, too. Say, boy, what’s the matter with your father?”
“It’s the—a—the—well, it ain’t anything much.”
They stopped pulling. It warn’t but a mighty little ways to the raft now. One says:
“Boy, that’s a lie. What is the matter with your pap? Answer up square now, and it’ll be the better for you.”
“I will, sir, I will, honest—but don’t leave us, please. It’s the—the—Gentlemen, if you’ll only pull ahead, and let me heave you the headline, you won’t have to come a-near the raft—please do.”
“Set her back, John, set her back!” says one. They backed water. "Keep away, boy—keep to looard. Confound it, I just expect the wind has blowed it to us. Your pap’s got the small-pox, and you know it precious well. Why didn’t you come out and say so? Do you want to spread it all over?”
“Well,” says I, a-blubbering, “I’ve told everybody before, and they just went away and left us.”
“Poor devil, there’s something in that. We are right down sorry for you, but we—well, hang it, we don’t want the small-pox, you see. Look here, I’ll tell you what to do. Don’t you try to land by yourself, or you’ll smash everything to pieces. You float along down about twenty miles, and you’ll come to a town on the left-hand side of the river. It will be long after sun-up then, and when you ask for help you tell them your folks are all down with chills and fever. Don’t be a fool again, and let people guess what is the matter. Now we’re trying to do you a kindness; so you just put twenty miles between us, that’s a good boy. It wouldn’t do any good to land yonder where the light is—it’s only a wood-yard. Say, I reckon your father’s poor, and I’m bound to say he’s in pretty hard luck. Here, I’ll put a twenty-dollar gold piece on this board, and you get it when it floats by. I feel mighty mean to leave you; but my kingdom! it won’t do to fool with small-pox, don’t you see?”
“Hold on, Parker,” says the other man, “here’s a twenty to put on the board for me. Good-bye, boy; you do as Mr. Parker told you, and you’ll be all right.”
“That’s so, my boy—good-bye, good-bye. If you see any runaway niggers you get help and nab them, and you can make some money by it.”
“Good-bye, sir,” says I; “I won’t let no runaway niggers get by me if I can help it.”
They went off and I got aboard the raft, feeling bad and low, because I knowed very well I had done wrong, and I see it warn’t no use for me to try to learn to do right; a body that don’t get started right when he’s little ain’t got no show—when the pinch comes there ain’t nothing to back him up and keep him to his work, and so he gets beat. Then I thought a minute, and says to myself, hold on; s’pose you’d a done right and give Jim up, would you felt better than what you do now? No, says I, I’d feel bad—I’d feel just the same way I do now. Well, then, says I, what’s the use you learning to do right when it’s troublesome to do right and ain’t no trouble to do wrong, and the wages is just the same? I was stuck. I couldn’t answer that. So I reckoned I wouldn’t bother no more about it, but after this always do whichever come handiest at the time.
I went into the wigwam; Jim warn’t there. I looked all around; he warn’t anywhere. I says:
“Jim!”
“Here I is, Huck. Is dey out o’ sight yit? Don’t talk loud.”
He was in the river under the stern oar, with just his nose out. I told him they were out of sight, so he come aboard. He says:
“I was a-listenin’ to all de talk, en I slips into de river en was gwyne to shove for sho’ if dey come aboard. Den I was gwyne to swim to de raf’ agin when dey was gone. But lawsy, how you did fool ‘em, Huck! Dat wuz de smartes’ dodge! I tell you, chile, I’spec it save’ ole Jim—ole Jim ain’t going to forgit you for dat, honey.”
Then we talked about the money. It was a pretty good raise—twenty dollars apiece. Jim said we could take deck age on a steamboat now, and the money would last us as far as we wanted to go in the free States. He said twenty mile more warn’t far for the raft to go, but he wished we was already there.
Towards daybreak we tied up, and Jim was mighty particular about hiding the raft good. Then he worked all day fixing things in bundles, and getting all ready to quit rafting.
That night about ten we hove in sight of the lights of a town away down in a left-hand bend.
I went off in the canoe to ask about it. Pretty soon I found a man out in the river with a skiff, setting a trot-line. I ranged up and says:
“Mister, is that town Cairo?”
“Cairo? no. You must be a blame’ fool.”
“What town is it, mister?”
“If you want to know, go and find out. If you stay here botherin’ around me for about a half a minute longer you’ll get something you won’t want.”
I paddled to the raft. Jim was awful disappointed, but I said never mind, Cairo would be the next place, I reckoned.
We ed another town before daylight, and I was going out again; but it was high ground, so I didn’t go. No high ground about Cairo, Jim said. I had forgot it. We laid up for the day on a towhead tolerable close to the left-hand bank. I begun to suspicion something. So did Jim. I says:
“Maybe we went by Cairo in the fog that night.”
He says:
“Doan’ le’s talk about it, Huck. Po’ niggers can’t have no luck. I awluz ‘spected dat rattlesnake-skin warn’t done wid its work.”
“I wish I’d never seen that snake-skin, Jim—I do wish I’d never laid eyes on it.”
“It ain’t yo’ fault, Huck; you didn’ know. Don’t you blame yo’self ‘bout it.”
When it was daylight, here was the clear Ohio water inshore, sure enough, and outside was the old regular Muddy! So it was all up with Cairo. We talked it all over. It wouldn’t do to take to the shore; we couldn’t take the raft up the stream, of course. There warn’t no way but to wait for dark, and start back in the canoe and take the chances. So we slept all day amongst the cottonwood thicket, so as to be fresh for the work, and when we went back to the raft about dark the canoe was gone!
We didn’t say a word for a good while. here warn’t anything to say. We both knowed well enough it was some more work of the rattlesnake-skin; so what was the use to talk about it? It would only look like we was finding fault, and that would be bound to fetch more bad luck—and keep on fetching it, too, till we knowed enough to keep still. By and by we talked about what we better do, and found there warn’t no way but just to go along down with the raft till we got a chance to buy a canoe to go back in. We warn’t going to borrow it when there warn’t anybody around, the way pap would do, for that might set people after us. So we shoved out after dark on the raft.
Anybody that don’t believe yet that it’s foolishness to handle a snake-skin, after all that that snake-skin done for us, will believe it now if they read on and see what more it done for us. The place to buy canoes is off of rafts laying up at shore. But we didn’t see no rafts laying up; so we went along during three hours and more. Well, the night got gray and ruther thick, which is the next meanest thing to fog. You can’t tell the shape of the river, and you can’t see no distance. It got to be very late and still, and then along comes a steamboat up the river. We lit the lantern, and judged she would see it. Up-stream boats didn’t generly come close to us; they go out and follow the bars and hunt for easy water under the reefs; but nights like this they bull right up the channel against the whole river. We could hear her pounding along, but we didn’t see her good till she was close. She aimed right for us. Often they do that and try to see how close they can come without touching; sometimes the wheel bites off a sweep, and then the pilot sticks his head out and laughs, and thinks he’s mighty smart. Well, here she comes, and we said she was going to try and shave us; but she didn’t seem to be sheering off a bit. She was a big one, and she was coming in a hurry, too, looking like a black cloud with rows of glow-worms around it; but all of a sudden she bulged out, big and scary, with a long row of wide-open furnace doors shining like red-hot teeth, and her monstrous bows and guards hanging right over us. There was a yell at us, and a jingling of bells to stop the engines, a powwow of cussing, and whistling of steam—and as Jim went overboard on one side and I on the other, she come smashing straight through the raft. I dived—and I aimed to find the bottom, too, for a thirty-foot wheel had got to go over me, and I wanted it to have plenty of room. I could always stay under water a minute; this time I reckon I stayed under a minute and a half. Then I bounced for the top in a hurry, for I was nearly busting. I popped out to my armpits and blowed the water out of my nose, and puffed a bit. Of course there was a booming current; and of course that boat started her engines again ten seconds after she stopped them, for they never cared much for raftsmen; so now she was churning along up the river, out of sight in the thick weather, though I could hear her. I sung out for Jim about a dozen times, but I didn’t get any answer; so I grabbed a plank that touched me while I was “treading water,” and struck out for shore, shoving it ahead of me. But I made out to see that the drift of the current was towards the left-hand shore, which meant that I was in a crossing; so I changed off and went that way.
It was one of these long, slanting, two-mile crossings; so I was a good long time in getting over. I made a safe landing, and clumb up the bank. I couldn’t see but a little ways, but I went poking along over rough ground for a quarter of a mile or more, and then I run across a big old-fashioned double log-house before I noticed it. I was going to rush by and get away, but a lot of dogs jumped out and went to howling and barking at me, and I knowed better than to move another peg. |
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Nos pasamos durmiendo casi todo el da y nos pusimos en marcha de noche, un poco detrs de una balsa monstruosamente larga que tard en pasar tanto como una procesin. Llevaba cuatro remos largos a cada extremo, as que pensamos que probablemente viajaran en ella nada menos que treinta hombres. Tena a bordo cinco grandes wigwams y una hoguera a cielo abierto en el centro, con un mstil grande de bandera a cada extremo. Resultaba muy elegante. El ir de balsero en una embarcacin as significaba algo.
Bajamos a la deriva por una gran curva, la noche se nubl y empez a hacer mucho calor. El ro era muy ancho y estaba rodeado de bosques denssimos a los dos lados; no se vea en ellos ni un claro, ni siquiera una luz. Hablamos de El Cairo y nos preguntamos si lo reconoceramos cuando llegramos. Yo dije que no, porque haba odo decir que no haba ms que una docena de casas, y si no tenan luces, cmo bamos a saber que pasbamos junto a un pueblo? Jim dijo que si all se reunan los dos grandes ros, eso nos lo indicara. Pero yo respond que podramos pensar que estbamos pasando por el extremo de una isla y volviendo al mismo ro de siempre. Aquello inquiet a Jim, y a m tambin. As que la cuestin era, qu hacer? Yo dije que remar, remar a la costa en cuanto viramos la primera luz y decirles que detrs vena padre, en una chalana mercante, y que era un novato en estas cosas y quera saber cunto faltaba para El Cairo. Jim pens que era una buena idea, as que nos pusimos a fumar para celebrarlo y nos dedicamos a esperar.
Ahora no quedaba nada que hacer ms que estar muy atentos al pueblo y no pasar sin verlo. Jim dijo que estaba segursimo de verlo, porque en cuanto lo viera sera hombre libre, pero si no lo vea, era que volva a estar en zona de esclavitud y ya no llegara a la libertad. A cada momento se pona en pie de un salto y gritaba:
––Ah est!
Pero no estaba. Eran fuegos fatuos o lucirnagas, as que volva a sentarse y a observar igual que antes. Jim deca que el estar tan cerca de la libertad le haca temblar y sentirse febril. Bueno, yo puedo decir que a m tambin me haca temblar y sentir fiebre el escucharlo, porque empezaba a darme cuenta de que era casi libre, y, quin tena la culpa? Pues yo. No poda quitarme aquello de la conciencia, hiciera lo que hiciese. Me preocupaba tanto que no poda descansar; no me poda quedar tranquilo en un sitio. Hasta entonces nunca me haba dado cuenta de lo que estaba haciendo. Pero ahora s, y no paraba de pensarlo y cada vez me irritaba ms. Trat de convencerme de que no era culpa ma porque no era yo quien haba hecho a Jim escaparse de su legtima propietaria, pero no vala de nada, porque la conciencia volva y deca cada vez: Pero sabas que hua en busca de la libertad y podas haber ido a remo a la costa y habrselo dicho a alguien. Era verdad: aquello no haba forma de negarlo. Ah me dola. La conciencia me deca: Qu te haba hecho la pobre seorita Watson para que vieras a su negro escaparse delante mismo de ti y no dijeras ni una sola palabra? Qu te haba hecho aquella pobre anciana para tratarla tan mal? Pues haba tratado de que te aprendieras tu libro, haba tratado de ensearte modales, haba tratado de que fueras bueno por todos los medios que ella conoca. Eso es lo que haba hecho.
Me sent tan mal y tan desgraciado que casi deseaba haberme muerto. Me pase arriba y abajo de la balsa, insultndome para mis adentros, y Jim se paseaba arriba y abajo frente a m. Ninguno de los dos poda quedarse quieto. Cada vez que l pegaba un salto y deca: Eso es El Cairo! era como si me pegaran un tiro, y pensaba que si era El Cairo, me iba a morir del horror.
Jim hablaba en voz alta todo el tiempo mientras que yo hablaba solo. Segn l, lo primero que hara cuando llegase a un estado libre sera ahorrar dinero y no gastarse ni un centavo, y cuando tuviera bastante comprara a su mujer, que era esclava en una granja cerca de donde viva la seorita Watson, y despus trabajaran los dos para comprar a sus dos hijos, y si el dueo de stos no los quera vender, conseguiran que un abolicionista fuera a robarlos.
Al or aquellas cosas casi se me helaba la sangre. Antes jams se habra atrevido a decir todo aquello. As era como haba cambiado en cuanto pens que casi era libre. Es lo que dice el dicho: Dale a un negro la mano y se toma el codo. Yo pensaba: Esto es lo que me pasa por no pensar. Ah estaba aquel negro, al que prcticamente haba ayudado yo a escaparse, que deca con toda la cara que iba a robar a sus hijos: unos nios que pertenecan a un hombre a quien yo ni siquiera conoca; un hombre que nunca me haba hecho ningn dao.
Lamentaba orle aquello, porque se rebajaba. Mi conciencia me empez a doler ms que nunca hasta que por fin le dije: Djame en paz... todava no es demasiado tarde; en cuanto se haga de da voy a tierra y lo digo. Inmediatamente me sent tranquilo y feliz y ligero como una pluma. Haban desaparecido todos mis problemas. Volv a mirar muy atentamente si haba una luz, canturreando para mis adentros. Al cabo de un rato se vio una. Jim grit:
––Estamos a salvo, Huck, estamos a salvo! Levntate y salta de alegra! Por fin es El Cairo, estoy seguro!
Y yo voy y digo:
––Bien, voy a ir a ver con la canoa. Ya sabes, a lo mejor no es.
De un salto prepar la canoa y puso en el fondo su viejo capote para que me sentara en l, me dio el remo y cuando sal me dice:
––Dentro de poco estar gritando de alegra y dir que todo es gracias a Huck; soy un hombre libre y nunca lo habra podido ser de no haber sido por Huck; ha sido Huck. Jim no lo olvidar nunca, Huck; eres el mejor amigo que ha tenido Jim en su vida y eres el nico amigo que tiene ahora el viejo Jim.
Yo iba remando a toda prisa para delatarlo; pero cuando dijo aquello pareci que me quitase todas las fuerzas. Empec a ir ms lento y no estaba muy seguro de sentirme tan contento de haberme puesto en marcha. Cuando estaba a quinientas yardas, Jim va y dice:
––Ah va mi fiel Huck; el nico caballero blanco que ha cumplido sus promesas al viejo Jim.
Bueno, casi me pongo malo. Pero me dije: Tengo que hacerlo; no puedo dejar de hacerlo. Justo entonces apareci un bote con dos hombres que llevaban escopetas y se pararon, y tambin yo. Uno de ellos va y dice:
––Qu es eso de ah?
––Pues una balsa ––contest.
––Vas t en ella?
––S, seor.
––Y van hombres en ella?
––Slo uno, caballero.
––Bueno, pues hay cinco negros que se escaparon esta noche de all arriba, donde est la curva. Tu hombre, es blanco o negro?
No respond inmediatamente. Lo intent, pero no me salan las palabras. Trat un segundo o dos de hacer fuerzas y decirlo, pero no fui lo bastante hombre: estuve ms cobarde que un conejo. Vi que no tena fuerzas, as que dej de intentarlo, y voy y digo:
––Es blanco.
––Creo que vamos a verlo nosotros mismos.
––Ojala ––dije yo––, porque es padre el que va ah y a lo mejor me ayudan ustedes a remolcar la balsa a tierra donde est esa luz. Est malo, y lo mismo les pasa a madre y a Mary Ann.
––Qu diablos! Tenemos prisa, chico. Pero supongo que es nuestro deber. Vamos, dale al remo y vamos all. Agarr la paleta y ellos sus remos. Al cabo de un par de remadas les digo:
––Padre les estar muy agradecido, eso seguro. Cuando digo a alguien que me ayude a remolcar la balsa a tierra todo el mundo se va y yo solo no puedo.
––Pues vaya gente ms mezquina; pero, qu raro. Oye, chico, qu le pasa a tu padre?
––Es ... aaa... laaa... bueno, no es nada grave.
Dejaron de remar. Ya estbamos muy cerca de la balsa. Uno va y dice:
––Chico, ests mintiendo. Qu le pasa a tu padre? Responde la verdad, que ms te vale.
––S, seor, de verdad que s..., pero, por favor no nos abandonen. Es la... laaa... caballeros, si se acercan un poco y me dejan que les eche la amarra no tienen que acercarse a la balsa; por favor.
––Vamos atrs, John, vamos atrs! ––dijo uno de ellos. Retrocedieron––. No te acerques, chico; mantn-te a sotavento. Maldita sea, slo falta que nos la haya trado el viento. Tu padre tiene la viruela y t lo sabes de sobra. Por qu no lo dijiste a la primera? Quieres que se le contagie a todo el mundo?
––Bueno ––respond yo lloriqueando––, es lo que les he dicho a todos antes y se iban y nos dejaban.
––Pobre diablo, no te falta razn. Lo sentimos mucho por vosotros pero es que... bueno, maldita sea, no queremos que nos d la viruela, comprndelo. Mira, voy a decirte lo que puedes hacer. No trates de atracar t solo o lo destrozars todo. Sigue flotando ro abajo unas veinte millas y llegars a un pueblo al lado izquierdo del ro. Para entonces ya habr amanecido del todo, y cuando pidas ayuda diles que tu familia entera tiene escalofros y fiebre. No vuelvas a hacer el tonto y dejar que la gente se suponga lo que pasa. Estamos tratando de hacerte un favor, as que s bueno y vete veinte millas ms all. No te valdra de nada atracar donde est la luz: no es ms que una serrera. Oye, calculo que tu padre es pobre y desde luego que est teniendo mala suerte. Mira, voy a poner una moneda de oro de veinte dlares en esta tabla y cuando flote a tu lado la recoges. No es que me guste dejarte, pero qu diablos!, con la viruela no se juega, comprendes?
––Espera, Parker ––dijo el otro––, ten otros veinte para poner tambin en la tabla. Adis, chico; haz lo que te ha dicho el seor Parker y seguro que todo os ir bien.
––Exactamente, chico; adis, adis. Si ves negros fugitivos, busca quien te ayude a atraparlos y sacars algo de dinero.
––Adis, caballero ––respond––; no dejar que se me escape ningn negro fugitivo si puedo evitarlo.
Se marcharon y yo volv a subirme en la balsa, sintindome malo y traidor, porque saba muy bien que haba hecho mal, y vea que de nada vala que intentase aprender a hacer bien las cosas; cuando alguien no empieza bien cuando es pequeo no hay nada que hacer: cuando llega el momento no tiene en qu apoyarse y que lo mantenga, as que siempre pierde. Despus lo pens un minuto y me dije: Un momento; supongamos que hubieras hecho bien y hubieras entregado a Jim, te sentiras mejor que ahora? No, me dije, me sentira mal, me sentira igual que ahora. Bueno, entonces, me dije, de qu sirve aprender a hacer bien las cosas cuando tienes problemas si las haces bien y ningn problema si las haces mal y el resultado es siempre el mismo? Estaba atrapado. No poda responder a aquello. As que pens que no me seguira preocupando del asunto, y a partir de entonces siempre hago lo que me parece mejor en cada momento.
Entr en el wigwam; all no estaba Jim. Mir en mi derredor y no lo vi por ninguna parte. Grit:
––Jim!
––Aqu estoy, Huck. Ya no se les ve? No hables en voz alta.
Estaba en el agua, bajo el remo de proa, sin sacar ms que la nariz. Le dije que ya no se los vea, as que subi a bordo. Me cont:
––He estado escuchando esa conversacin y me met en el agua y me iba a ir a la costa si suban. Despus iba a volver a la balsa cuando se hubieran ido. Pero, seor, cmo les has engaado, Huck! Has sido de lo ms astuto! Te digo chico que estoy seguro de que has salvado al viejo Jim... El viejo Jim no lo va a olvidar nunca, mi nio.
Despus hablamos del dinero. No estaba nada mal: veinte dlares cada uno. Jim dijo que ahora podamos tomar pasajes de cubierta en un barco de vapor y el dinero nos durara hasta donde quisiramos llegar en los estados libres. Dijo que veinte millas ms no era mucha distancia para la balsa, pero que ojala ya hubiramos llegado.
Hacia el amanecer amarramos y Jim actu con mucho cuidado para esconder bien la balsa. Despus trabaj todo el da organizando las cosas en paquetes y preparndolo todo para seguir adelante sin la balsa.
Aquella noche, hacia las diez, llegamos a la vista de las luces de un pueblo en una curva del lado izquierdo.
Fui en la canoa a preguntar. En seguida me encontr con un hombre que haba salido al ro con un bote y estaba preparando unos sedales. Me acerqu y le pregunt:
––Caballero, ese pueblo es El Cairo?
––El Cairo? No. Debes de ser idiota perdido.
––Cmo se llama ese pueblo, caballero?
––Si quieres enterarte, ve a preguntarlo. Si te quedas aqu molestndome medio minuto ms, te vas a llevar una torta.
Volv a remo a la balsa. Jim se sinti muy desilusionado, pero le dije que no importaba, que segn mis clculos, El Cairo sera el pueblo siguiente.
Pasamos otro pueblo antes del amanecer, y yo iba a volver a preguntar, pero estaba muy alto, as que no sal. El Cairo no est en alto, dijo Jim. A m se me haba olvidado. Nos quedamos parados el da entero en un islote de hierba bastante cerca de la orilla izquierda. Empec a sospechar algo. Jim tambin. Yo dije:
––A lo mejor pasamos junto a El Cairo aquella noche de niebla.
Y l contest:
––No hablemos de eso, Huck. Los pobres negros nunca tenemos suerte. Siempre he sospechado que aquella piel de serpiente de cascabel no haba terminado su trabajo.
––Ojala no hubiera visto nunca aquella piel de serpiente, Jim... ojala no le hubiera echado nunca la vista encima.
––No es culpa tuya, Huck; t no lo sabas. No te eches la culpa de eso.
Cuando amaneci vimos el agua clara del Ohio junto a la costa, sin duda alguna, y al lado vena el gran ro como siempre. As que nada que ver con El Cairo.
Hablamos del asunto. No vala de nada ir a tierra; naturalmente, no podamos llevar la balsa ro arriba. No haba nada que hacer ms que esperar a que anocheciera, volvernos con la canoa y ver si tenamos suerte. As que nos pasamos el da durmiendo entre los alamillos, para estar descansados para el trabajo, y cuando volvimos a la balsa al oscurecer, la canoa haba desaparecido.
No dijimos ni una palabra durante un buen rato. No haba nada que decir. Los dos sabamos perfectamente bien que era otra vez cosa de la piel de la serpiente de cascabel, as que, de qu vala hablarlo? Aquello no sera ms que como si estuviramos buscando algo a que echar la culpa, y sin duda nos traera todava ms mala suerte, y seguira trayndola hasta que comprendisemos que lo mejor era no hablar del tema.
Despus de un rato hablamos de lo que tendramos que hacer y vimos que no haba otra cosa que seguir adelante con la balsa hasta que pudiramos comprar una canoa para deshacer el camino en ella. No bamos a tomarla prestada cuando no haba nadie por all, como hara padre, porque entonces quiz nos persiguiera alguien.
As que despus de oscurecer salimos en la balsa.
Y el que no se crea todava que es una estupidez andar manejando pieles de serpiente despus de todo lo que aquella piel de serpiente nos hizo a nosotros lo creer ahora si contina leyendo y ve lo que nos sigui haciendo.
El sitio donde comprar canoas es donde haya balsas atracadas en la ribera. Pero no vimos ninguna balsa atracada, as que seguimos adelante tres horas o ms. Bueno, la noche se puso gris y el aire muy denso, que es lo peor que puede haber despus de una niebla. No se ve la forma en el ro ni se aprecia la distancia. Se hizo muy tarde en medio del silencio, y entonces, de pronto, apareci un barco de vapor ro arriba. Encendimos la farola y cremos que la vera. Los barcos que remontan generalmente no se nos acercaban; iban buscando las barras de arena en busca del agua fcil bajo los arrecifes; pero en noches as suben por medio del canal enfrentndose con todo el ro.
Podamos or su motor, pero no lo vimos bien hasta que se acerc. Vena directo hacia nosotros. Muchas veces hacen eso y tratan de ver hasta dnde pueden acercarse sin tocarlo a uno; a veces la rueda arranca un tabln, y entonces el piloto asoma la cabeza y se echa a rer y se cree muy listo. Bueno, aqu viene, y decidimos que iba a tratar de afeitarnos, pero no pareca desviarse ni un poco. Era grande y vena a toda velocidad, como una nube negra con filas de lucirnagas a los lados; pero de pronto se vio entero, enorme que daba miedo, con una fila larga de portezuelas de hornos abiertas y brillantes como dientes al rojo y con los costados y las barandillas monstruosos justo encima de nosotros. Alguien nos grit, y se oy un ruido de campanas para frenar las mquinas, un montn de juramentos y el silbido del vapor, y justo cuando Jim saltaba de un lado y yo del otro, arremeti contra la balsa y la hizo aicos.
Salt y me propuse llegar hasta el fondo, porque me iba a pasar por encima una rueda de treinta pies y yo quera tener mucho margen. Siempre he podido aguantar un minuto debajo del agua; creo que aquella vez aguant un minuto y medio. Despus sal rpido a la superficie, porque estaba a punto de reventar. Saqu bastante la cabeza y me sopl el agua de la nariz, jadeando un poco. Naturalmente, haba una corriente enorme, y naturalmente aquel barco volvi a ponerse en marcha diez segundos despus de haber parado las mquinas, porque nunca se preocupaban mucho por los balseros, de forma que segua chapaleando ro arriba, invisible en medio de aquel aire denso, aunque todava se poda or el ruido que produca.
Llam a Jim media docena de veces, pero sin recibir respuesta; as que agarr un tabln que me toc mientras yo pedaleaba en el agua y me dirig hacia tierra, bien agarrado a l. Pero logr ver que la corriente llevaba hacia la ribera de la izquierda, lo cual significaba que yo estaba en medio de un cruce de corrientes, as que cambi y segu por all.
Era uno de aquellos cruces largos, y regulares, de dos millas; as que tard mucho en recorrerlo. Llegu bien a tierra y trep por la orilla. Slo poda ver a muy poca distancia, pero fui tanteando por un terreno pedregoso un cuarto de milla o ms, y despus me tropec con una de esas casonas anticuadas de troncos que ni haba visto. Iba a pasar corriendo lejos de all, pero sali una jaura de perros que se puso a aullar y a ladrarme y comprend que era mejor no moverme. |
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