SQUIRE FISHLEY MAKES IT RIGHT.
"Did you know how much money you gave me, Squire Fishley?" I asked of my
distinguished companion, as I drove over the bridge.
"No, I did not; and I don't wonder that you ask, Buck," he replied, very
solemnly.
"You gave me forty-six dollars, sir."
"Forty-six," he added, taking out his large pocket-book.
He did not seem to be at all astonished at the magnitude of the sum, and
I wondered what he was going to do. Much as I dreaded the loss of the
money, I was satisfied that he had made a mistake, and I felt that it
would not be honest for me to keep it without informing him. Of course I
expected to be commended for my honesty in refusing to take advantage of
a drunken man's mistake; but he did not say a word, only fumbled over
the thick pile of bank notes in his pocket-book, for the purpose, I
judged, of ascertaining whether he had lost any or not. To my
astonishment, however, he took two bills from the pile, and handed them
to me.
"What's that for?" I asked, involuntarily taking the bills.
"I meant to give you more," said he.
"More!" I exclaimed.
"I didn't know what I was about very well last night," he added, with a
groan which expressed the anguish he felt for his error. "I ought to
have given you a hundred."
"Why, no, sir! I don't ask anything," I replied, confounded by his
words.
"You don't understand it as well as I do," said he, shaking his head,
and bestowing a mournful look upon me.
"But I can't take a hundred dollars, sir."
"Yes, you can, and you must. I shall not feel right about it if you
don't. It ought to be a thousand; but I shall make it up to you some
time."
"Why, Squire Fishley, if you had given me a couple of dollars, I should
have thought you had treated me very handsomely," I protested.
"You saved my life."
"I don't know as I did."
"But you did more than that for me. I was intoxicated; I cannot deny it.
I fell into the river in that state. If I had been found drowned, the
cause of my death would have been rum!" he added, with a shudder. "I
have always been classed with the moderate drinkers, though sometimes I
don't taste of liquor for a week. Rather to oblige my friends than to
gratify my own taste, I drank with them till I was in the state you saw
me. I was drunk. What a scandal to my family, to my position, to my
church! If it could have been said the Hon. Moses Fishley was drowned in
consequence of getting intoxicated, I should not have slept in peace in
my grave. You saved my life; and I am sure no one knew me, so that I
hope to save my reputation. It has been a terrible lesson to me, and
with God's forgiveness for the past, and his help for the future, I will
never drink another drop of wine or liquor."
"I am sorry it happened, sir; but I am willing to do all I can for you
without any money," I interposed.
"My gratitude, if nothing else, compels me to give you what I have
given; and I hope you never will mention the matter."
"Never, sir!"
"I know that I deserve the humiliation of an exposure," continued the
squire, in a very mournful tone; "but I feel that the facts would injure
the cause of truth and religion more than they would injure me. My
brother used to think I was a hypocrite because I attended to the
concerns of the soul. I don't know that he has thought so since I went
into the Senate. He used to laugh at me for going to the prayer
meetings; and I don't know what he would say if he should learn that I
got drunk and fell into the river."
"He will never find it out from me, sir; but I don't want all this
money."
"Keep it; but I trust you will not spend it foolishly, nor let my
brother know that you have it."
"I will do neither. Captain Fishley and I don't get along well enough
together for me to say anything to him."
"Why, what's the matter?"
I told my story; for I felt that if the senator could trust me, I could
trust him. I did not say anything about my half-formed intention to run
away. The squire was very sorry there was any trouble; but, as it was a
family matter, he did not like to say much about it, though he promised
to do all he could for me.
"I think I won't go any farther, Buck," said he. "I suppose you will
despise me, for you know me better than any other person."
"I'm sure I don't despise you."
"I'm confident my misfortune--if it can be called by that name--is all
for the best. When I go home, I shall come out for temperance, and I
think this journey will do me good."
I thought it must be very mortifying for him to talk to me in that way;
but he was sincerely penitent, and I am sure he was a better Christian
than ever before. He was a truer man than his brother in every respect,
and I should have had a high regard for him, even if he had not given
me a hundred dollars.
I had money enough now to pay my own and my sister's passage to New
Orleans in a steamboat; but I was so fascinated with the raft that I
could not think of abandoning it. I was going to build a house upon it;
and my fancy pictured its interior, and the pleasure we might enjoy in
it, floating down the river. It was a very brilliant ideal which I had
made up in connection with the new craft.
In due time I reached Riverport, and obtained the mail-bag. At the
post-office, I happened to meet the landlord of the hotel, who wanted to
know how Squire Fishley was. I told him he was quite well.
"They say there was a man drowned in the river last night," he added.
"I'm glad to hear from Squire Fishley."
"It wasn't the squire," I replied. "He went home with me."
"It was somebody else then; but nobody seems to know who it was."
I did not enlighten him. In the Riverport Standard there was an item in
regard to the accident, which stated that "an elderly gentleman, under
the influence of liquor, had fallen from the gang-plank of the steamer
into the river," and that "a young man had attempted to save him; but,
as neither of them had been heard from, it was supposed that both were
drowned. But it was possible they had been saved, and had continued on
their journey in that or some other steamer." I learned that a great
deal had been said about the affair in the town, and I never heard that
any satisfactory solution of the mystery was obtained. The squire was
safe, and that was all I cared for.
At a store where I was not known I purchased ten pounds of nails, and
such other articles of hardware as would be needed in carrying on the
work upon the raft. The method of supplying Sim with provisions was a
more difficult problem; but, at a restaurant near the steamboat landing,
I bought a boiled ham, which I thought would keep my hungry assistant
alive for several days. I also purchased a keg of crackers, half a
cheese, a couple of loaves of soft bread, and a basket to carry them in.
I was rich, and did not mind the expense.
When I arrived home, I took the basket and the hardware to the back side
of the barn; but before I went to bed I saw Sim, and told him where they
were. Before I made my appearance in the morning he had carried them
away to the swamp. Everything had worked successfully thus far. Sim was
in no danger of starving, and I was relieved of the necessity of feeding
him from the buttery of the house.
I gave Squire Fishley a copy of the Standard, and pointed out to him the
paragraph in relation to the "elderly gentleman under the influence of
liquor." He turned pale and trembled as he read it; but I assured him he
was perfectly safe, and that no one but myself was in possession of his
secret.
After breakfast, when I had finished my regular "chores," I hastened to
the swamp to work on the raft. I cannot describe the satisfaction which
this labor, and the thinking of it, afforded me. It was fully equal to a
trip down the river in a steamboat. Day after day, and night after
night, in my trips to Riverport, and in my bed, I anticipated the voyage
down the stream, and the pleasure of keeping house in our mansion on the
raft, with Flora and Sim.
After three days' hard work, we had the body of the raft completed. We
had covered the long logs with short ones, and on the upper tier laid a
flooring of slabs, which were more plentiful than boards, as they were
thrown away by the saw-mills above. The platform was more than a foot
above the surface of the water, and I was confident that it would carry
us high and dry.
It only remained to build the house--the most pleasing because it was
the most difficult part of the job. This structure was to be eighteen
feet long and six feet wide, placed in the middle of the platform. I put
together two frames of the requisite size, forming the sills and plates
of the building, and boarded them up and down, leaving three windows on
each side, and a door at the rear end. I made the rafters of slabs, with
the round side down.
On the fifth day, so enthusiastically had we labored, I expected to
complete the outside of the house, so that Sim could sleep in it. I was
putting on the last of the roof boards, which lapped over so as to shed
the rain, when an unfortunate circumstance occurred to delay the work.
My bow-legged friend and fellow-laborer was the most willing boy in the
world. He was quite skilful in the use of the axe; but he was very
awkward in his movements, and did not always work to the best advantage.
Towards the last of the work, we had come short of boards, and I was
thinking of going to the saw-mills, seven miles up the stream, to buy a
few to complete the work. But there was a heavy rain in the night, which
raised the creek, and brought down quite a number of them. I had swung a
boom out so as to catch them. Sim had just hauled one of these, soaked
with water, out of the river. While he was raising the end to hand it up
to me, on the roof, his feet slipped, and he went into the stream with a
"chug," like a frog.
Sim could not swim, and he began to flop about in the wildest and most
unreasonable manner. I threw him a board, but he did not seem to have
sense enough to grasp it. I saw that he would be drowned in a moment
more, unless he received more efficient help. I was fearfully alarmed
for his safety; and, though I could swim like a fish, I doubted my
ability to handle such a clumsy fellow in the water.
Kicking off my shoes, I dived after him from the roof of the house; for
he had gone down, and I was not sure that he would come up again. I
could not help thinking that this accident had ruined my enterprise.
Though it seemed to be a long time to me, and doubtless a much longer
time to him, he had not been in the water more than three seconds when I
dived after him.
[Illustration: SIM GWYNN'S MISHAP.--Page 141.]
I did not find him under the water; but, when I rose to the surface, I
saw him a rod or more below me, floundering about like a crazy
alligator.