IN WHICH IS A PRETTY KETTLE OF FISH
Miss Helena Emory had her artichoke for luncheon, and judging from my
own, my boy John never had prepared a better, good as he was with
artichokes; but we ate apart, the ladies not coming to our table. It
was late afternoon before I saw Helena again, once more come on deck.
She was sitting in a steamer chair with her face leaning against her
hand, and looking out across the water at the passing shipping. She
sat motionless a long time, the whole droop of her figure, the poise
of her tender curved chin, wistful and unhappy, although she said no
word. For myself, I did not accost her. I, too, looked up and down the
great river, not knowing at what moment some discerning eye might spy
us out, and I longed for nothing so much as that night or Peterson
would come.
He did come at last, late in the afternoon, on an outbound train, and
he hurried aboard as rapidly as he might. The first thing he did was
to hand me a copy of an afternoon paper. I opened it eagerly enough,
already well assured of what news it might carry.
On the front page, under a large, black head, was a despatch from
Baton Rouge relaying other despatches received at that point, from
many points between Plaquimine and Bayou Sara. These, in short, told
the story of the most high-handed attempt at river piracy known in
recent years. The private yacht of Calvin Davidson, a wealthy northern
business man, on his way South for the winter, had been seized by a
band of masked ruffians, who boarded her while the yacht's owner was
temporarily absent on important business in the city of Natchez. These
ruffians, abandoning their own boat, had at once gone on down-stream.
They had been hailed by officers of Baton Rouge, acting under advice
by wire from Mr. Davidson, on his way down from Natchez. The robber
band had paid no attention to the officers of the law, but had
continued their course. In some way the stolen craft had mysteriously
disappeared that afternoon and night, nor had any word of her yet been
received from points as far south as Plaquimine. A bottle thrown
overboard by one of the prisoners taken on the yacht contained a
message to Mr. Davidson, with the request that he should meet the
sender at New Orleans; but there was no signature to the note.
Many mysterious circumstances surrounded this sensational piece of
piracy, according to the journalistic view-point. On board the _Belle
Helene_ were two ladies, the beautiful young heiress, Miss Helena
Emory, well known in northern social circles, and her aunt, Mrs.
Lucinda Daniver, widow of the late Commodore Daniver, United States
Navy. Mr. Davidson himself was unable to assign any reason for this
bold act of this abduction, although he feared the worst for the
comfort or even the safety of the two ladies, whose fate at this
writing remained unknown. The greatest mystery surrounded the identity
of the leader of this bold deed, whose name Mr. Davidson could not
imagine. He was reported to suspect that these same river pirates,
earlier in the day, attacked and perhaps made away with a friend of
his whose name is not yet given. A cigarette case was found in the
abandoned boat, which Mr. Davidson thought looked somewhat familiar to
him, although he could not say as to its ownership. He could and did
aver positively, however, that a photograph in a leather case on the
abandoned boat was a portrait of none other than Miss Helena Emory,
one of the captives made away with by the river ruffians. Mr. Davidson
could assign no explanation of these circumstances.
Later despatches received at Baton Rouge, so the New Orleans journal
said, might or might not clear up the mystery of the stolen yacht's
disappearance, although the senders seemed much excited. One story
from a down-river point, brought in by an excited negro, told of a
dozen bottles found floating in the bayou. The negro, however, had
broken them all open, and declared they had contained nothing but bits
of paper, which he had thrown away. He also told a wild story that the
plantation store at Hamlin's Landing, on Bayou Henry, had been looted
in broad daylight, by a young man and a boy, apparently members of the
pirate crew. The younger of the two ruffians was masked, and on being
asked for pay for gasoline, refused it at the point of his weapons,
declaring that pirates never paid.
While no attention should be paid to rumors such as the latter, the
despatches went on to say, it was obvious that a most high-handed
outrage had been perpetrated. It was supposed that the swift yacht had
been hurried forward, and had passed New Orleans in the night. Once
out of the river, and among the shallow bays of the Gulf Coast, the
ruffians might, perhaps, for some time evade pursuit, just as did the
craft of Jean Lafitte, himself, a century ago. Meantime, only the
greatest anxiety could pervade the hearts of the friends of these
ladies thus placed in the power of ruthless bandits. Such an outrage
upon civilization could, of course, occur only under the
administration of the Republican party. The journal therefore
hoped:--and so forth, and so forth.
"Peterson," said I, after digesting this interesting information,
"you've read this. What have you to say?"
Peterson was more despondent even than was his wont. "It looks mighty
bad, Mr. Harry," said he, "and I don't profess to understand it."
"Did you order the supplies?"
"Oh, yes, but they may forget to send them after all."
"It is your intention to stick by me, Peterson?"
"Well, there must be some mistake," he said, "but I don't see what
else I can do."
"There is a mistake, Peterson," said I. "This is more newspaper
sensation. Mr. Davidson is excited over something he doesn't
understand. If I had him here now I could explain it all easily. But,
before the matter can be explained in this way, we must wait until
this excitement dies down. Why, at this gait, it would hardly be safe
for either of us to be recognized here in town. We might be arrested
and put to a lot of trouble. The best thing we can do is to run on
down the river and wait until Davidson gets down and until we get this
thing adjusted. That is why I wanted the supplies to-night."
"But suppose we are discovered to-night?"
"We take that chance, but I fancy that I have certain legal rights,
after all, and I own this boat. Fortune favors the bold. I shall make
no attempt to hide, either now or then, Peterson. At the same time,
while we will not run away from plain sight, there is no need to take
unnecessary chances. Drop some white sail-cloth over the yacht's name
on her bows, and on the fantail. Have one or two of the boys go
overboard in slings and seem to be painting her sides. That will give
the look that we are safe to lie here some time--which is the last
thing the _Belle Helene_ really would do, or will do. They think we've
run past the city already, and they'll be watching at Quarantine, and
along the Lake Borgne Canal. Most of the yachts go out that way,
headed for Florida. We'll go the other way. It's an adventure,
Peterson, and one which any viking, like yourself, ought to relish."
"So I do, Mr. Harry," said he, "but I hardly knew which course to
lay."
"Blood will tell, Peterson," said I. "Your ancestors were Danish
pirates; mine were English pirates."
"For God's sake, Mr. Harry, don't talk that way. We mustn't go against
the law."
"I'm not sure that we have as yet, Peterson, for the law says nothing
about abduction of ladies in pairs, or for purposes truly honorable.
Frankly, Peterson--and because you've been long in my employ--I'll
tell you something. I intend to marry that young lady if she's not
already married to Mr. Davidson."
"Lord, Mr. Harry, she ain't--at least not since she come aboard the
boat."
"In that case," said I, drawing a long breath, "this is not such a bad
world after all."
"Not at all, Mr. Harry. I was going to say, as well be hung for a
sheep as a lamb, but of course I don't know about what she'll say. She
looks to me like one of these girls that's been petted a good deal,
and Mr. Harry, believe me, I always fight shy of a pet horse, or a pet
boat, or a pet woman--they're always hard to handle, and they raise
the devil when they get a chance. I hope you'll pardon me, sir."
"On the contrary, Peterson, I am grateful to you. You are on double
pay from the time I took command. Moreover, I promise you the best
cruise we ever had together. Once among the shallow bays on the coast
down there, we can take care of ourselves while this chase cools down.
We're faster than anything on the Gulf, and draw less water than most
of them of anything like our speed. You take care of the boat and I'll
take care of the girl--or try to. I have attachment papers all made
out, to file on the boat if need be--and I also have an attachment
for the girl, when it comes to that."
The old man shook his head. "I've got the easiest job," said he.