The Adventures of Tom Sawyer: Chapter 16-17

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain, Chapter sixteen,
First Pipes, I've lost my knife. After dinner, all the
gang turned out to hunt for turtle eggs on the bar.
They went about poking sticks into the sand, and when
they found a soft place, they went down on their
knees and dug with their hands. Sometimes they would take

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fifty or sixty eggs out of one hole. They were
perfectly round, white things, a trifle smaller than an English walnut.
They had a famous fried egg feast that night and
another on Friday morning. After breakfast, they went whooping and
prancing out on the bar and chased each other round
and round, shedding clothes as they went until they were naked,

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and then continued the frolic far away up the shoal
water of the bar against the stiff current, which latter
tripped their legs from under them from time to time
and greatly increased the fun. And now and then they
stooped in a group and splashed water in each other's
faces with their palms, gradually approaching each other with averted
faces to avoid the strangling sprays, and finally gripping and

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struggling till the best man ducked his neighbor, and then
they all went under in a tangle of white legs
and arms, and came up blowing, sputtering, laughing, and gasping
for breath. At one and the same time. When they
were well exhausted, they would run out and sprawl on
the dry, hot sand and lie there and cover themselves
up with it, and by and by break from the

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water again, and go through the original performance once more.
Finally it occurred to them that their naked skin represented
flush colored tights very fairly. So they drew a ring
in the sand and had a circus with three clowns
in it, for none would yield this proudest post to
his neighbor. Next they got their marbles and played knucks
and ring tall and keeps till that amusement grew stale.

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Then Joe and Hack had another swim, but Tom would
not venture because he found that in kicking off his trousers,
he had kicked his string of rattles snow rattles off
his ankle, and he wondered how he had escaped cramp
so long without the protection of this mysterious charm. He
did not venture again until he had found it and
by that time the other boys were tired and ready

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to rest. They gradually wandered apart and dropped into the dumps,
and fell to gazing longingly across the wide river to
where the village lay. Drowsing in the sun, Tom found
himself writing Becky in the sand with his big toe.
He scratched it out, and was angry with himself for
his weakness, but he wrote it again. Nevertheless, he could

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not help it. He raised it once more, and then
took himself out of temptation by driving the other boys
together and joining them. But Joe's spirits had gone down,
almost beyond resurrection. He was so homesick that he could
hardly endure the misery of it. The tears lay very
near the surface. Huck was melancholy too. Tom was downhearted,

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but tried hard not to show it. He had a
secret which he was not ready to tell yet. But
if this mutinous depression was not broken up soon, he
would have to bring it out. He said, with a
great show of cheerfulness. I bet there's been pirates on
this island before. Boys, we'll explore it again. They've hid
treasures here somewhere. How'd you feel to light on a

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rotten chest full of gold and silver. Hey, but it
roused only a faint enthusiasm, which faded out with no reply.
Tom tried one or two other seductions, but they failed too.
It was discouraging work. Joe sat poking up the sand
with a stick and looking very gloomy. Finally he said, oh, boys,

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let's give it up. I want to go home. It's
so lonesome. Oh no, Joe, you'll feel better by and bye,
said Tom. Just think of the fishing that's here. I
don't care for fishing. I want to go home, But Joe,
there ain't such another swimming place anywhere. Swimming's no good.
I don't seem to care for it somehow, when there
ain't anybody to say, I shan't go in. I mean

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to go home. Oh shucks, baby, you want to see
your mother? I reckon, yes, I do want to see
my mother, And you would too if you had one.
I ain't any more baby than you are. And Joe
snuffled a little. Well, we'll let the cry baby go
home to his mother, won't we? Huck? Poor thing? Does
it want to see its mother? And so it? Shall?

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You like it here, don't you? Huck. We'll stay, won't we.
Huck said yes, without any heart in it. I'll never
speak to you again as long as I live, said Joe,
rising there now, and he moved moodily away and began
to dress himself. Who cares, said Tom, nobody wants you
to go long home and get laughed at. Oh, you're

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a nice pirate, huckin me. Ain't cry babies. We'll stay,
won't we? Huck let him go if he wants to.
I reckon. We can get along without him, perhaps. But
Tom was uneasy nevertheless, and was alarmed to see Joe
go sullenly on with his dressing. And then it was
discomforting to see Huck eyeing Joe's preparations so wistfully and
keeping up such an ominous silence. Presently, without a parting word,

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Joe began to wade off toward the Illinois shore. Tom's
heart began to sink. He glanced at Huck. Huck could
not bear the look and dropped his eyes, and then
he said, I want to go too, Tom. He was
getting so lonesome anyway, and now it'll be worse. Let
us go too, Tom, I won't you can all go?

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If you want to, I mean to stay. Tom, I'd
better go. We'll go along. Who's hindering you? Huck began
to pick up his scattered clothes, and he said, Tom,
I wish you'd come too. Now you think it over,
We'll wait for you when we get to the shore.
Well you'll wait a blame long time, that's all. Huck
started sorrowfully away, and Tom stood looking after him, with

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a strong desire tugging at his heart to yield his
pride and go along too. He hoped the boys would stop,
but they still waited slowly on. It suddenly dawned on
Tom that it was become very low only and still
he made one final struggle with his pride, and then
darted after his comrades, yelling wait, wait, I want to
tell you something. They presently stopped and turned round. When

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he got to where they were, he began unfolding his secret,
and they listened moodily till at last they saw the
point he was driving at, and then they set up
a war whoop of applause and said it was splendid,
and said if he had told them at first, they
wouldn't have started away. He made a plausible excuse but
his real reason had been the fear that not even
the secret would keep them with him any very great

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length of time, and so he had meant to hold
it in reserve as a last seduction. The lads came
gaily back and went at their sports again with a will,
chattering all the time about Tom's stupendous plan and admiring
the genius of it. After a dainty egg and fish dinner,
Tom said he wanted to learn to smoke. Now. Joe

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caught at the idea and said he would like to
try too, So Huck made pipes and filled them. These
novices had never smoked anything before but cigars made of grapevine,
and they bit the tongue and were not considered manly anyway.
Now they stretched themselves out on their elbows and began
to puff Charlie and with slender confidence. The smoke had

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an unpleasant taste, and they gagged a little. But Tom said, why,
it's just as easy. If I'd a knowed this was
all I'd learned long ago, so would I said, Joe,
It's just nothing. Why many a time I've looked at
people smoking and thought, well, I wish I could do that.
But I never thought I could, said Tom. That's just
the way with me. He hainted, Huck. You've heard me

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talk just that way, haven't you, Huck. I'll leave it
to Huck if I haven't. Yes, heaps of times, said Huck.
Well I have too, said Tom. Oh, hundreds of times.
Once down by the slaughter house. Don't you remember, Huck,
Bob Tanner was there, and Johnny Miller and Jeff Thatcher
when I said it. Don't you remember Huck about me
saying that, Yes, that's so, said Huck. That was the

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day after I lost a white alley, No twas the
day before there I told you so, said Tom, how
recollects it? I believe I could smoke this pipe all day,
said Joe. I don't feel sick. Neither do I said Tom.
I could smoke it all day. But I bet you
Jeff Thatcher couldn't. Jeff Thatcher, why he'd keel over just

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with two draws. Just let him try it once he'd
see I bet he would. And Johnny Miller. I wish
I could see Johnny Miller tackle at once. Oh don't,
I said Joe. Why I bet now? Johnny Miller couldn't
any more do this than nothin. Just one little sniffer
would fetch him. Indeed it would. Joe say, I wish
the boys could see us, now, so do I say?

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Boys don't say anything about it. And sometime when they're around,
I'll come up to you and say, Joe, got a
pipe I want to smoke? And you'll say kind of careless,
like as if it weren't anything. You'll say, yes, I
got my old pipe and another one, but my tobacco
ain't very good, and I'll say, oh, that's all right
if it's strong enough, and then you'll out with the

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pipes and we'll light up just as calm, and then
just see him. Look, why jeans, that'll be gay? Tom,
I wish it was now, so do I. And when
we tell him we learned when we was off pirating,
won't they wish they'd been long? Oh? I reckon not.
I'll just bet they will. So the talk ran on,
but presently it began to flag a trifle and grow disjointed.

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The silences widened, the expectoration marvelously increased. Every pore inside
the boy's cheeks became a spouting fountain. They could scarcely
bail out the cellars under their tongues fast enough to
prevent an inundation. Little overflowings down their throats occurred in
spite of all they could do, and sudden wretchings followed
every time. Both boys were looking very pale and miserable.

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Now Joe's pipe dropped from his nerveless fingers. Tom's followed.
Both fountains were going furiously, and both pumps baling with
might and main. Joe said feebly, I've lost my knife.
I reckon I better go and find it. Tom said,
with quivering lips and halting utterance, I'll help you. You

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go over that way and i'll hunt around by the spring. No,
you needn't come, Huck. We can find it. So Huck
sat down again and waited an hour. Then he found
it lonesome and went to find his comrades. They were
wide apart in the woods, both very pale, both fast asleep.
But something informed him that if they had had any trouble,

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they'd got rid of it. They were not talkative at
supper that night. They had a humble look, and when
Huck prepared his pipe after the meal and was going
to prepare theirs, they said no. They were not feeling
very well. Something they ate at dinner had disagreed with them.
About midnight, Joe awoke and called the boys. There was
a brooding oppressiveness in the air that seemed to bode something.

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The boys huddled themselves together and sought the friendly companionship
of the fire. Though the dull, dead heat of the
breathless atmosphere was stifling. They sat still, intent and waiting.
The solemn hush continued beyond the light of the fire,
Everything was swallowed up in the blackness of darkness. Presently
there came a quivering glow that vaguely revealed the foliage

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for a moment, and then vanished by and by another
came a little stronger, then another. Then a faint moan
came sighing through the branches of the forest, and the
boys felt a fleeting breath upon their cheeks, and shuddered
with a fancy that the spirit of the night had
gone by. There was a pause. Now, a weird flash

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turned night into day and showed every little grass blade
separate and distinct, and grew about their feet, and it
showed three white, startled faces too. A deep peal of
thunder went rolling and tumbling down the heavens and lost
itself in sullen rumblings. In the distance. A sweep of
chilly air passed by, rustling all the leaves and snowing

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the flaky ashes broadcast about the fire. Another fierce glare
lit up the fore and an instant crash followed that
seemed to rend the tree tops right over the boy's heads.
They clung together in terror in the thick gloom that followed.
A few big rain drops fell, pattering upon the leaves.
Quick boys go for the tent, exclaimed Tom. They sprang away,

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stumbling over the roots and among vines in the dark.
No two plunging in the same direction. A furious blast
roared through the trees, making everything sing as it went,
one blinding flash after another, and the peal on peal
of deafening thunder. And now a drenching rain poured down,
and the rising hurricane drove it in sheets along the ground.

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The boys cried out to each other, but the roaring
wind and the booming thunder blasts drowned their voices utterly. However,
one by one they straggled in at last and took
shelter under the tent, cold, scared and streaming with water,
but to have company, and misery seemed something to be
grateful for. They could not talk the old sail flat

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so furiously, even if the other noises would have allowed them.
The tempest rose higher and higher, and presently the sail
tore loose from its fastings and went winging away on
the blast. The boys seized each other's hands and fled,
with many tumblings and bruises, to the shelter of a
great oak tree that stood upon the river bank. Now
the battle was at its highest under the ceaseless conflagration

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of lightning that flamed in the skies. Everything below stood
out in clean cut and shadowless distinction, the bending trees,
the billowy river white with foam, the driving spray of
spume flakes, the dim outlines of the high bluffs on
the other side, glimpsed through the drifting cloud rack, and
the slanting veil of rain. Every little while, some giant

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tree yielded the fight and fell, crashing through the younger growth,
and the unflagging thunder peals came now and ears, splitting
explosive bursts, keen and sharp and unspeakably appalling. The storm
culminated in one matchless effort that seemed likely to tear
the island to pieces, burnt it up, drown it to
the tree tops, and blow it away, and deafen every

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creature in it all at once at the same moment.
It was a wild night for homeless young heads to
be out in. But at last the battle was done,
and the forces retired with weaker and weaker threatenings and grumblings,
and peace resumed her sway. The boys went back to
camp a good deal awed, but they found there was
still something to be thankful for, because the great Sycamore,

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the shelter of their beds, was a ruin, now blasted
by the lightnings, and they were not under it. When
the catastrophe happened. Everything in camp was drenched the camp
fire as well, for they were but heedless lads like
their generation, and had made no provision against rain. Here
was matter for dismay, for they were soaked through and chilled.

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They were eloquent in their distress. But they presently discovered
that the fire had eaten so far up under the
great log it had been built against, where it curved
upward and separated itself from the ground, that I a
handbreadth or so of it had escaped wedding, so they
patiently wrought until with shreds and bark gathered from undersides

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of sheltered logs, they coaxed the fire to burn again.
Then they piled on great dead boughs till they had
a roaring furnace, and were glad hearted once more. They
dried their boiled ham and had a feast. And after
that they sat by the fire and expanded and glorified
their midnight adventure until morning, for there was not a
dry spot to sleep on anywhere around. As the sun

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began to steal in upon the boys, drowsiness came over them,
and they went out on the sand bar and lay
down to sleep. They got scorched out by and by,
and drearily set about getting breakfast. After the meal, they
felt rusty and stiff jointed, and a little homesick. Once more,
Tom saw the signs and fell to cheering up the
pirates as well as he could, But they cared nothing

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for marbles or circus, or swimming or anything. He reminded
them of the imposing secret and raised the raved cheer.
While at last had he got them interested in a
new device. This was to knock off being pirates for
a while and be Indians for a change. They were
attracted by this idea, so it was not long before
they were stripped and striped from head to heel with

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black mud, like so many zebras, all of them chiefs,
of course. And then they went tearing through the woods
to attack an English settlement. By and by they separated
into three hostile tribes and darted upon each other from
ambush with dreadful war whoops, and killed and scalped each
other by thousands. It was a gory day. Consequently, it

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was an extremely satisfactory one. They assembled in camp towards
supper time, hungry and happy. But now a difficulty arose.
Hostile Indians could not break the bread of hospitality together
without first making peace, and this was a simple impossibility
without smoking a pipe of peace. There was no other
process that they ever heard of. Two of the savages

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almost wished they had remained pirates. However, there was no
other way. So with such show of cheerfulness as they
could muster, they called for the pipe and took their
whiff as it passed in due form. And behold, they
were glad they had gone into savagery, for they had
gained something. They found that they could now smoke a
little without having to go and hunt for a lost knife.

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They did not get sick enough to be seriously uncomfortable.
They were not likely to fool away this high promise
for lack of effort. No, they practiced cautiously after supper
with right fair success, and so they spent a jubilant evening.
They were prouder and happier in their new acquirement than
they would have been in the scalping and skinning of

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the six nations. We will leave them to smoke and
chatter and brag, since we have no further use for
them at present. End of chapter sixteen, Chapter seventeen, Pirates
at their own funeral, But there was no hilarity in
the little town. That same tranquil Saturday afternoon, the Harpers

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and Aunt Polly's family were being put into mourning with
great grief and many tears. An unusual quiet possessed the village,
although it was ordinarily quiet enough in all conscience. The
villagers conducted their concerns with an absent mind and talked little,
but they sighed often. The Saturday holiday seemed a burden
to the children. They had no heart in their sports,

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and gradually gave them up. In the afternoon, Becky Thatcher
found herself moping about the deserted schoolhouse yard and feeling
very melancholy, but she found nothing there to comfort her.
She soliloquized, Oh, if I only had a brass and
iron knob again, but I haven't got anything now to
remember him by, and she choked back a little sob Presently,

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she stopped and said to herself, it was right here. Oh,
if it was to do over again, I wouldn't say that.
I wouldn't say it for the whole world. But he's
gone now. I'll never, never, never see him any more.
This thought broke her down, and she wandered away with
the tears rolling down her cheeks. Then quite a group

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of boys and girls, playmates of Tom's and Joe's, came
by and stood looking over the paling fence and talking
in reverent tones of how Tom did so and so
the last time they saw him, and how Joe said
this and that small trifle pregnant with awful prophecy as
they could easily see now, and each speaker pointed out

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the exact spot where the lost lad stood at the time.
And then added something like and I was a standing
just so just as I am now, and as if
you was him, I was as close as that, and
he smiled just this way. And then something seemed to
go all over me, like awful, you know. And I
never thought what it meant, of course, but I can

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see now. Then there was a dispute about who saw
the dead boys last in life, and many claimed that
dismal distinction and offered evidences, more or less tempered with
by the witness. And when it was ultimately decided who
did see the departed last and exchanged the last words
with them, the lucky parties took upon themselves a sort

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of sacred importance, and were gaped at and envied by
all the rest. One, poor Chap, who had no other
grandeur to offer, said, with tolerably manifest pride in the remembrance, well,
Tom sawyer, he licked me once, But that bid for
glory was a failure. Most of the boys could say that,
and so that cheapened the distinction too much. The group

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loitered away, still recalling memories of the lost heroes in
awed voices. When the Sunday school hour was finished the
next morning, the bell began to toll instead of ringing
in the usual way. It was a very still Sabbath,
and the mournful sound seemed in keeping with a musing
hush that lay upon nature. The villagers began to gather,

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loitering a moment in the vestibule to converse in whispers
about the sad event, But there was no whispering in
the house. Only the funereal rustling of dresses as the
women gathered to their seats disturbed the silence. There None
could remember when the little church had been so full before.
There was finally a waiting pause, an expectant dumbness, and

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then Aunt Polly entered, followed by Sid and Mary, and
they by the Harper family, all in deep black, and
the whole congregation the old Minister's well rose reverently and
stood until the mourners were seated in the front pew.
There was another communing silence, broken at intervals by muffled sobs,
and then the minister spread his hands abroad and prayed.

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A moving hymn was sung, and the text followed, I
Am the Resurrection and the Life. As the service proceeded,
the clergyman drew such pictures of the graces, the winning ways,
and the rare promise of the lost lads, that every
soul there, thinking he recognized these pictures, felt a pang,
and remembering that he had persistently blinded himself to them

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always before, and had as persistently seen only faults and
flaws in the poor boys. The minister related many a
touching incident in the lives of the departed two which
illustrated their sweet, generous natures, and the people could easily
see now how noble and beautiful those episodes were, and
remembered with grief that at the time they occurred, they

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had seemed rank rascalities, well deserving of the cowhide. The
congregation became more and more moved as the pathetic tale
went on, till at last the whole company broke down
and joined the weeping mourners in a chorus of anguished sobs,
the preacher himself giving way to his feelings and crying
in the pulpit. There was a rustle in the gallery,

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which nobody noticed. A moment later, the church door creaked.
The minister raised his streaming eyes above his handkerchief and
stood transfixed. First one and another pair of eyes followed
the ministers, and then almost with one impulse, the congregation
rose and stared while the three dead boys came marching
up the aisle. Tom and the lead Joe next, and

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Huck a ruin of drooping rags, sneaking sheepishly in the rear.
They had been hid in the unused gallery, listening to
their own funeral sermon. Aunt Polly, Mary and the Harpers
threw themselves upon their restored ones, smothered them with kisses,
and poured out thanksgivings, while poor Huck stood abashed and uncomfortable,

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not knowing exactly what to do or where to hide
from so many unwelcoming eyes. He wavered and started to
slink away, but Tom seized him and said, Aunt Polly,
it ain't fair. Somebody's got to be glad to see Huck,
and so they shall. I'm glad to see him, poor
motherless thing, and the loving attentions Aunt Polly lavished upon

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him were the one thing capable of making him more
uncomfortable than he was before. Suddenly, the minister shouted, at
the top of his voice, Praise God, from whom all
blessings flow, seeing, and put your hearts in it. And
they did. Old Hundreds swelled up with a triumphant burst,

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And while it shook the rafters, Tom Sawyer the Pirate,
looked around upon the envying juveniles about him, and confessed
in his heart that this was the proudest moment of
his life. As the souled congregation trooped out, they said
they would almost be willing to be made ridiculous again
to hear Old hundred sung like that once more. Tom

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got more cuffs and kisses that day, according to Aunt
Polly's varying moods, than he had earned before in a year,
and he hardly knew which expressed the most gratefulness to
God and affection for himself. End of Chapter seventeen.