Joe Napyank E-Book

Edward Sylvester Ellis

• Herausgeber: Librorium Editions
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

“I’ve had a pretty good tramp to-day, that’s sartin!” Such was the exclamation of a tall, gaunt, ungainly hunter,—Joe Napyank, as he dropped the butt of his rifle upon the ground, and folding his arms over the muzzle, looked out upon the broad Ohio, rolling by in quiet grandeur.
“I’ve tramped nigh unto twenty miles without once stopping; and, when a fellow goes that distance through woods, cane-brakes, and thickets, dodging the redskins and varmints, it’s no wonder if he’s a leetle blowed. Can’t be I’m too late after all.”
The thought seemed to bring him some discomfort for a moment.

Leseprobe

JOE NAPYANK;OR, THE RIVER RIFLES.

Edward Sylvester Ellis

1876

© 2021 Librorium Editions

ISBN : 9782383831532

CONTENTS

I. On the Ohio

II. Night on the Ohio.—A Visitor.—An Original Character.—Premonitions of Danger

III. Teddy O’Donnell and His Love Adventure. Startling Catastrophe

IV. On the Island.—Environed by Peril.—Sad Forebodings.—Young Smith’s Desperate Adventure

V. Sad News.—Recovery of a Rifle

VI. A Reckless Adventure.—Capture of Teddy.—A Visit to the Flat-boat.—Thoughts of Rescue

VII. Death and Capture.—The Companions in Captivity

VIII. A Night Voyage Down the River.—Singular Appearance.—The Departure

IX. In the Dark and Bloody Ground.—The Separation

X. A Vain Hunt.—The Indian Camp.—Discovery.—Pursuit.—Desperate Conflict.—A Meeting

XI. Teddy O’Donnell and Ruth McGowan—Irish Shrewdness—A Pugilistic Triumph—The Indian Fight—Liberation

XII. The End

CHAPTER I. ON THE OHIO.

“I’ve had a pretty good tramp to-day, that’s sartin!” Such was the exclamation of a tall, gaunt, ungainly hunter,—Joe Napyank, as he dropped the butt of his rifle upon the ground, and folding his arms over the muzzle, looked out upon the broad Ohio, rolling by in quiet grandeur.

“I’ve tramped nigh unto twenty miles without once stopping; and, when a fellow goes that distance through woods, cane-brakes, and thickets, dodging the redskins and varmints, it’s no wonder if he’s a leetle blowed. Can’t be I’m too late after all.”

The thought seemed to bring him some discomfort for a moment.

“No; it can’t be, no need of thinking that. I’ve made pretty good time, and have struck the river low ’nough down.”

From his position, a view of the Ohio, for several miles below was afforded him, but the prospect above was cut off by a sweeping bend in the river. The hunter—for such he evidently was—took a long searching scrutiny of the river below, as if in quest of some object. Suddenly he started.

“Yonder is something that’s sartin, but it must be an Injin canoe. Yes, I know it is.”

The object referred to was simply a dark speck, gliding straight across the stream. In a few moments, it struck the other shore and as speedily disappeared.

“Yes; that’s a canoe, that can be told by the way it acts. It’s plain McGowan has not reached this point yet.”

Thus satisfied beyond all conjecture, Joe took a seat upon a tree, prepared to wait the appearance of some object. As we have already remarked, he was very tall and remarkably attenuated,—his weight barely a hundred pounds, while his height was fully six feet. His features were sharp and angular, characteristic more of the New Englander than of his native state of New York. His face seemed as devoid of beard as a child’s; but he had a pleasant blue eye, and there was an expression of good nature on his face, more prepossessing than otherwise. When he talked or laughed he displayed a fine set of teeth, and a remarkably musical voice. His hair was sandy and almost as long and straight as an Indian’s.

Joe Napyank sat some time in a reverie, when chancing to raise his head, he saw in full sight, coming around the bend above, a goodly sized flat-boat, such as were frequently seen upon the western waters, three-quarters of a century since. The hunter’s eyes sparkled.

“That’s McGowan! I knowed he couldn’t be far out of the way. I don’t see any of ’em on the look out, which, howsomever, is a good sign, as it’s one that ought to do the looking out,—that is such looking out as makes me show myself.”

Joe kept his seat for a few minutes longer, and then withdrawing into the wood so as to conceal himself, he deliberately raised his gun and discharged it in the direction of the flat-boat and then, dropping his piece, looked to see the result.

He caught a glimpse of two or three hats moving around near the stern of the boat. Enough to satisfy him, that his friends were not asleep, nor so reckless as to expose themselves, when no possible good could result from it. The hunter now stepped forward, and called out,

“Helloa there, you, can’t you take a poor fellow on board?”

All this time, he was careful to keep his body concealed; and, observing, that his call attracted no notice, he speedily repeated it, still hiding his body, and disguising his voice as much as possible.

“I say you, won’t you take a poor fellow on board, that’s been badly cut up by the Injins, and can’t get off.”

Still there was not the least sign that his words were heard, which perhaps rather curiously did not seem to displease the hunter. By this time, the flat-boat had approached a point directly opposite, so that he was compelled to begin walking to keep pace with it. This he managed to do, without exposing himself to the inquiring eyes, that he knew was piercing out upon him.

“I say, be you so cruel as to leave a poor wounded man of your own race and blood to perish among these outrageous Injins?”

Still no response, and the hunter tried it once more.

“Can’t you let me know that your hear me?”

A moment later, a huge red face appeared over the gunwale,

“Git out! you can’t come that game over me.”

Joe Napyank now stepped forth to view, and swung his hat with a loud laugh.

“That’s right, McGowan, belive every man in these parts an enemy till he’s proved a friend.”

The same rubicund face rose like the moon over the horizon of the high gunwale, and a cheery laugh rolled over the water—

“Ha! ha! ha! you can’t hide that voice of yours, Joe; I knowed you all the time.”

“You did, eh?” replied the hunter somewhat crestfallen, “why didn’t you answer me then?”

“You didn’t apply in the proper manner,—that’s it, ha! ha! ha! Now when you show yourself like a man, I’ll notice you. I suppose you want to come on board.”

“If you’ve no objection, I should like to do so.”

“How do you propose to do it?”

“I ’pose you work your old pile of lumber into shore.”

“No, you don’t. It would be a little better if you should work yourself a little out from shore.”

The hunter could not avoid laughing at the good natured shrewdness displayed by McGowan.

“I’m glad to see you’ve larned something. ’Twouldn’t be safe to get along the shore when there’s no current.”

“What made you ask me to do it then?”

“Just to see whether you had enough sense not to mind me. I tell you what you can do though, McGowan,” added Napyank in a more serious voice.

“What’s that?”

“Work the boat a little toward this bank so that I can wade out to you. A few yards will answer.”

“I suppose there is no objection to that, but you will have to go down stream a little further.”

“Of course.”

The long sweeping oars that were hung at either end of the flat-boat were now called into requisition and applied by seemingly invisible hands. Under their influence, the huge unwieldy mass of lumber began sidling toward the bank, somewhat after the fashion of a cautious turtle, that had not made up his mind as yet, whether he was doing an exactly proper thing or not. The hunter kept pace with it, manifesting considerable anxiety, and surveying both shores, as though he were not satisfied with their appearance. One or two things had caught his eye that gave him some uneasiness, and he was rather impatient to get upon the boat. This perhaps made the movements of McGowan and his friends unnecessarily tardy.

“There! I think that will do!” exclaimed the man on the flat-boat. “Now see whether you can walk out to us.”

But Joe was already several yards out in the stream, carefully feeling his way. The water slowly rose, so that he was to his arm-pits before he had passed half the intervening distance.

“Ay g-r-a-c-i-o-us!” he shivered out, as he tediously made his way along. “This is awful cold, and is getting deeper and deeper.”

“Keep along. You’re in the deepest part,” cheered McGowan.

“I—I—don’t know about that.”

“A few more yards and you will be here.”

“I—oogh!”

The last exclamation was forcibly ejected, as he suddenly dropped out of view. Just as McGowan’s hearty laugh was ringing over the water, he shot upward again and struck out vigorously for the flat-boat.

“Confound it! Why didn’t you tell a feller?”

“How could I know there was a hole there? Let your feet drop and see if they don’t touch bottom.”

The hunter did as was requested and was surprised to find that he was again in five-foot water.

“That’s better,” he added, as he rapidly neared the flat-boat. “In a minute——”

Joe Napyank suddenly paused, at the sharp crack of several rifles upon the bank, and the whizz of the bullets in alarming proximity to his own person.

“Indians!” exclaimed McGowan, excitedly. “Quick Joe, for God’s sake; you’ll be killed!”

The hunter was fully impressed with the danger, and was making all haste toward the flat-boat. He sank down so that nothing but the upper part of his head was visible above water. The bullets rained like hail around his head but still he was unharmed.

“McGowan, can’t you give ’em a shot?” he called out.

“I can try.”

Saying which his gun was speedily raised and discharged among the shouting savages, who took no pains to conceal their bodies. The shot seemingly was a good one, for they scattered to cover like a flock of frightened partridges. During the temporary lull the hunter reached the flat-boat and with the assistance of two or three friendly hands was received on board.

The Indians disappeared with almost the suddenness of magic. Not another yell was heard, not another gun fired. Five minutes after the discharge of the first shot, a stillness deep and profound reigned over wood and river.

For a long time those in the flat-boat maintained an unremitting watch upon both shores. More than once they were certain they saw some redskins leaping stealthily from cover to cover—they were in momentary expectation of another volley. But none came. It seemed as if the savages had been controlled entirely by the desire to slay or obtain possession of Napyank, and failing in this, they had quietly withdrawn.

“They have left, I guess,” finally remarked Napyank.

“I don’t know,” replied McGowan, “it seems to me that every rod of these bordering woods, contain a dozen of the creatures, and it does seem as if they had all taken a great notion to watch us.”

“No doubt about that, and they will keep on watching us till we reach the settlement. Haven’t they attacked you previous to this?”

“I should think they had. There hasn’t been a night since we got fairly into the West, that they haven’t tried to board us.”

Joe Napyank, although an experienced hunter, seemed really surprised to hear this. McGowan added by way of qualification.

“I speak the literal truth when I say there hasn’t a night passed without some hostile attempt upon their part; but I must say, that it does seem to me that they didn’t try very hard.”

“That is qu’ar. When Injins try such things, they’re apt to do the best they can.”

“Perhaps they had a good fear of the mettle of those on board this boat,” smiled McGowan.

“Per-h-a-p-s,” drawled the hunter, in a voice that was far more significant than a simple denial could have been.

“I don’t think any of them have learned how many we have on board,” added McGowan.

“It is well they didn’t.”

But it is high time the inmates of the flat-boat should receive a more special introduction to the reader.

Theophilus McGowan, the author of this emigration scheme, was a middle aged man of large frame, weighing considerably over two hundred pounds. He came from Western Pennsylvania, where he was a prominent citizen, greatly respected, having performed a very important part in the Revolutionary war, now brought to a close. He procured a wife as obese and genial-natured as himself, and a daughter as pretty and plump as it is safe to imagine. This was their only child, and, at first, it may seem hard to find a reason why he should leave his comfortable home and emigrate to this great solitude, the abode of the deadly red man. But it requires no prophetic eye, to see that this very region—the great West—was destined speedily to become settled, civilized, and one of the most important sections of the young nation. His experience in camp life and the vicissitudes of the great contest, had nurtured a roving disposition in him, and he had entered into the scheme with as much zest, as if he were a young man, and was in quest of a bride and a new home.

Associated with him was Abram Smith, a man somewhat younger than himself, who brought with him his two sons, Abram and Stoddard. Abram was a quiet, reserved sort of man like his father, and nearly thirty years of age. Both had the true mettle of the pioneer in them. Reticent and undemonstrative, yet they possessed that noiseless, unwavering determination, which could be checked by no obstacle that it was possible for human will to overcome. Every trial and difficulty they took as a matter of course, and it may be safely ventured that if father and son ever knew that it was appointed to run a gauntlet of Indians, in order to reach their destination, they would not have hesitated or turned aside for an instant.