Manly Wade Wellman - Novel 1954 by Rebel Mail Runner (v1.1)

last.
                 Barry
looked. “More lights,” he groaned.
                 “The lights of Vicksburg . Now let’s see if we can get the canoe
upright again.”
                 They
managed to turn the dugout over, but it shipped a great quantity of water and
lay almost swamped. Barry hung to the side and began to bail.
                 “Wait,
let me show you a trick,” Grimes said. “Swim clear.”
                 As
Barry pulled away from the boat, Grimes caught the stern and pushed it strongly
down so that the bow end rose clear of the water. He
shoved the stern powerfully, away from him, and water sloshed from it. Again he
caught the stern and repeated the performance. Now the dugout was partially
empty, and Grimes held to one side while Barry climbed in at the other, then
scrambled in himself . Swiftly they scooped out most of
the water. Panting, they resumed their paddles and set a course for the glow of
the town.
                 More
than a mile they paddled, dripping, weary, but eager. Barry’s arms and back
muscles strained and ached. At last he could see the dark outline of a row of
wharfs. They looked smashed and half-ruined, against fires and lanterns behind.
                 “Who’s
that out there?” a stern, clear voice rang out. “Name yourself before we send
some lead after you.”
                 “Friends,”
yelled back Grimes. “We’ve run the blockade with a shipment of mail.”
                 “Come
on in, but no false moves,” came the warning.
                 Within
a minute the dugout’s nose grated against a wharf piling, and a soldier knelt
to offer Barry a hand.

 
                 

 
     
     
              

           V.The WAY OUT
     
                 MEN
helped hoist the dugout to the wharf and then, in the light of a bonfire,
surrounded the dripping mail runners, muskets ready. A slim figure with wide
hat and belted saber strode out of the dark. Grimes spoke to the newcomer, who
shook hands.
                 “It’s
no surprise to fish you out of the river, Captain Grimes,” he said. “I’ve heard
that you deliver your mail if you have to climb inside a Yankee siege gun to do
it. Welcome to Vicksburg . Did you bring any Kentucky mail with you? I’m from Louisville .” “Only Missouri mail this trip, I’m sorry to say,” replied
Grimes. “But my partner, Bob Louden, was getting mail in Kentucky , and since I got here with what I had, so
will he.”
                 The
dugout, with its freight of sealed tin boxes, was left with a corporal, and the
officer led Grimes and Barry to a house beyond the wharf. When the officer
knocked, the door was opened by a night- gowned man with a candle.
                 “This
boarding house is where we keep our reserve guard,” the officer said. “Stay here, and my men will dry your clothes at the fire. You lack
boots, eh? We’ve some captured gear inside, so help yourselves .”
                 The
man with the candle led them to a room with a big double bed. Stripping and
wrapping themselves in blankets, Grimes and Barry lay down and were asleep
almost at once.
                 When
Barry woke to dawn’s gray light, Grimes was buttoning his dried-out shirt.
                 “I’ve
found four or five pairs of boots for you to choose from,” Grimes said. “Get up
and dress; we have callers outside.”
                 Barry
heard a many-voiced murmur. He hurried into his clothes, and from among the
shoes set against the wall selected a pair that fitted. In the hall he and Grimes
met the old man of the night before, pouring from a pot into two cups.
                 “Sweet
‘tater coffee,” said the host, apologetically, “but it’s hot. Hear that noise? Out in the street’s just about every Missoury man who ain’t in