Chapter Seventy Eight. Crossing the Savanna
We now suffered the very acme of misery. While riding in hot haste along the trail, there was an excitement, almost continuous, that precluded the possibility of intense reflection, and kept my mind from dwelling too minutely upon the calamity that had befallen me. The prospect of retribution, ever appearing nearer at hand – at every step nearer – all but cancelled my emotions of grief; and motion itself – knowing it to be forward, and towards the object of hatred – had a certain effect in soothing my troubled soul.
Now that the pursuit was suspended, and I was free to reflect on the events of the morning, my soul was plunged into the deepest misery. My fancy distressed me with dire images. Before me appeared the corpse of my murdered mother – her arms outstretched, waving me on to vengeance. My sister, too, wan, tearful, dishevelled! dishonoured!
No wonder that with painful impatience I awaited the going down of the sun. I thought I had never seen that grand orb sink so slowly. The delay tortured me almost to distraction.
The sun’s disc was blood red, from a thick haze that hung over the woods. The heavens appeared lowering, and angry – they had the hue of my own spirit.
At length, twilight came on. Short it was – as is usual in Southern latitudes – though it appeared long and tardy in passing away. Darkness followed, and once more springing to my saddle, I found relief in motion.
Emerging from the timber, we rode out upon the open savanna. The two hunters, acting as guides, conducted us across. There was no attempt made to follow any of the numerous trails. In the darkness, it would have been impossible, but even had there been light enough left them, the guides would have pursued a different course.
Hickman’s conjecture was, that on reaching the opposite side, the marauding party would come together at some rendezvous previously agreed upon. The trail of any one, therefore, would be sufficient for our purpose, and in all probability would conduct us to their camp. Our only aim, then, was to get across the savanna unobserved; and this the darkness might enable us to accomplish.
Silently as spectres we marched over the open meadow. We rode with extreme slowness, lest the hoof-strokes should be heard. Our tired steeds needed no taming down. The ground was favourable – a surface of soft, grassy turf, over which our animals glided with noiseless tread. Our only fears were, that they should scent the horses of the Indians, and betray us by their neighing.
Happily our fears proved groundless; and, after half an hour’s silent marching, we reached the other side of the savanna, and drew up under the shadowy trees.
It was scarce possible we could have been observed. If the Indians had left spies behind them, the darkness would have concealed us from their view, and we had made no noise by which our approach could have been discovered, unless their sentinels had been placed at the very point where we re-entered the woods. We saw no signs of any, and we believed that none of the band had lingered behind, and we had not been seen.
We congratulated one another in whispers; and in like manner deliberated on our future plans of proceeding. We were still in our saddles – with the intention to proceed further. We should have dismounted upon the spot, and waited for the light of morning to enable us to take up the trail, but circumstances forbade this. Our horses were suffering from thirst, and their riders were no better off. We had met with no water since before noon, and a few hours under the burning skies of Florida are sufficient to render thirst intolerable. Whole days in a colder climate would scarce have an equal effect.
Both horses and men suffered acutely – we could neither sleep nor rest, without relief – water must be sought for, before a halt could be made.
We felt hunger as well, for scarce any provision had been made for the long march – but the pangs of this appetite were easier to be endured. Water of itself would satisfy us for the night, and we resolved to ride forward in search of it.
In this dilemma, the experience of our two guides promised relief. They had once made a hunting excursion to the savanna we had crossed. It was in the times when the tribes were friendly, and white men were permitted to pass freely through the “reserve.” They remembered a pond, at which, upon that occasion, they had made their temporary encampment. They believed it was not far distant from the spot where we had arrived. It might be difficult to find in the darkness, but to suffer on or search for it were our only alternatives.
The latter was of course adopted; and once more allowing Hickman and Weatherford to pioneer the way, the rest of us rode silently after.
We moved in single file, each horse guided by the one that immediately preceded him; in the darkness no other mode of march could be adopted. Our party was thus strung out into a long line, here and there curving according to the sinuosities of the path, and gliding like some monstrous serpent among the trees.