found our yawl dragging in the water, as I have said. Turning to the
Northern Light, I clearly made out its boat tied in like manner, and in
the stern one of the crew resting at his ease. Envying him his seat,
and reasoning that we ought not to enjoy any unfair advantage, as the
captain himself had thought, I slipped into our boat, and untying the
rope, let it run out through the ring that held it, until in this way I
had dropped back a yard or more. Thus master of the situation, I could
at will come close under the deck of the War Eagle or remain away, as I
might wish. Reclining in the stern of the boat, wearied with the
excitement of the evening, I was soothed and rested by the swash of the
water as it tossed the light craft in which I lay this way and that.
Yet without in any way losing interest in the race, for now a new view
presented itself, and this more picturesque, I thought, than the other.
Above my head clouds of fire and escaping steam flew across the reddened
sky, while about me the air was filled with spray, which, falling on my
upturned face, wet it as with a refreshing dew. Before me the War Eagle
groaned and creaked, and a little way off the other vessel, not less
strenuous, put forth her every effort to gain some slight advantage, but
unsuccessfully, as one could plainly see.
After a while, beginning to tire, as we will of every form of excess, I
was meditating a return to the War Eagle, when flames, higher and
fiercer than before, burst from her stacks, lighting up the heavens with
a deeper and wider glow. Thinking some new device was being tried, I
sat still, and doing so, felt the increased power of the boat, and this
as if she had before been held by some restraining hand. Seeing how it
was, our crew raised a cheer, but alas! For as our stern tipped the
prow of the Northern Light and victory seemed clearly ours, there came a
sickening roar, all too plain, from the hull of the War Eagle. With the
sound, and sooner than I can tell, the sky was aflame with fire and
steam, and about me, and on my body and upturned face, particles of wood
and iron fell in showers, as if dropped from heaven. Following the
sound, and without any interlude whatever, the flying vessel, her body
burst asunder, began to settle in the boiling water. Seeing this, and
aroused by the sight, I sprang to my feet, and letting go the rope, the
fierce current quickly drew it through the ring, and I was freed from
the sinking boat.
Now I bethought me to aid the others, but alas! on looking about, there
was not so much as a stick by which to hold or guide the craft in which
I stood. In this way, and in agony of grief, and crying out at the top
of my voice, I floated away into the gathering darkness as the War Eagle
sank beneath the troubled waters. This, as I say, without being able to
so much as lift a hand to help my friends. Not so those on board the
Northern Light, for immediately the explosion occurred she reversed her
engines, and in a moment her boats were dancing on the water and
hastening, amid the cries of her crew, to the aid of our stricken
people. This much I saw, but only partly and from afar off, so quickly
did the current carry me away and out of sight. Standing up and
straining my eyes to the utmost, the lights one by one faded out, until
I was alone and helpless on the silent river; but of this I neither
thought nor cared, for my heart was filled to bursting at the unhappy
fate of my late companions. Gladly in my grief would I have stayed to
share their death, but instead I was each moment being carried farther
away, helpless as driftwood to aid either them or myself. Thus I stood
for hours, looking back and mourning till the night was far spent and
the moon arose over the distant hills of Illinois. At this, and in a
measure soothed by the sight, I know not why, I threw myself down in the
bottom of the boat, and so, after a while, fell into a troubled sleep.
Awakening at dawn, I stood up and scanned the shore on either side to
see if I could make out some familiar object. In vain, however; and thus
an hour or more passed without my seeing any one or being able to tell
my whereabouts. Despondent and chilled by the sharp air, I began to
search the boat anew, to see if I could not devise some way to reach the
shore. While thus busied a voice hailed me, and looking up I was
gladdened by finding myself abreast of Mr. Hayward's ferry, where
Constance and I had passed so many happy days. Calling to Mr.
Hayward--for it was he--to come to my aid, he loosened the skiff that
lay fastened at hand, and pushing into the stream, soon neared the spot
where I lay drifting with the current.
"Hello, Gilbert; is that you?" he cried, in surprise, on discovering who
it was.
"Yes, sir."
"What's the matter? Where do you come from?" he asked, resting on his
oars as if too much astonished to proceed.
"From the War Eagle, sir."
"Why in this shape?" he exclaimed.
"It's all that's left of her, I fear."
"All that's left of her! Why, what do you mean?"
"She blew up last night."
"God bless us! blew up! and the passengers and crew?"
"There were no passengers, but about the crew, oh, Lord! I don't know,"
I answered, sorrow-stricken.
"How did you get off?" he asked, after a while.
"I was dragging at the stern."
"Well, that was lucky, anyway."
"Yes, I suppose so," I answered, not elated as I should have been over
my escape, so great was my sorrow for those who were lost.
"What was the matter? Were you racing?"
"Well, there was a boat alongside of us."
"That's it," he answered, his temper rising, as men's will sometimes
after a great shock; "our river men will never learn anything, and now
this new accident!"
"Yes, sir; but it couldn't be helped. No one was to blame."
"No, of course not. It was Providence," he answered. "That is where we
lay the blame for all the foolish things we do. What a spinal column
Providence must have," he went on, "to carry so great a burden! But
while we are talking, the current is taking us to the gulf"; and
starting up, he soon reached my boat, and fastening it to the one he was
in, put forth all his strength, and so brought us quickly to the landing
a few steps from his home.
*CHAPTER XLV*
*TELLING THE NEWS*
Mrs. Hayward was greatly surprised at my coming, and more so at the
terrible accident that had befallen the War Eagle. Hastening, I begged
a horse of Mr. Hayward, that I might reach Appletop before news could
come to Constance. While standing at the door of the cabin waiting, I
told them of the mishap and my escape, at all of which they wondered.
When I was ready to mount, Mr. Hayward asked me what I intended to do
after seeing my friends.
"Bring your horse back and thank you for your kindness," I answered, not
attaching any other meaning to what he said.
"Where will you make your home, I mean? What will you do, if I may
ask?" he replied.
"I don't know, but I suppose Uncle Job will want to send me off to
school, as he talked before," I answered, thinking of it now for the
first time.
"That would be greatly to your advantage," Mrs. Hayward exclaimed,
pleased at the idea.
"Yes, I suppose so; but I don't fancy it now any more than I did at
first."
"Why not?" Mr. Hayward asked, surprised.
"Because I don't want to leave Appletop," I answered, looking toward
Mrs. Hayward, who knew of my love for Constance.
"Yet you have been away all summer," he replied.
"I know, but I could come back when I wanted to, and so it was not like
being away."
"That made a difference, to be sure; but you will go if he wants you
to?"
"No; it's too much to ask," I answered, making up my mind.
"I think you will do wrong to refuse," he replied, after a while; "but
if you don't go, how would you like to come and live with us? I need
some one to help me, and I think we would get along finely together.
Helen, I am sure, would be glad to have you," he added, turning to his
young wife.
"Indeed I should," she responded, and as if meaning what she said.
"Thank you," I replied; "it would be just what I'd like, if it could be
brought about."
"I could help you with your books, too, if you would let me," she went
on, pleasantly; "I taught school, you know, before I married Mr.
Hayward, and liked it very much. So that if you wish to come and live
with us, I should be glad to direct your studies, and could find the
time, I am sure."
"Nothing in the world would be so good as that, Gilbert, for you will
never find another such teacher," Mr. Hayward exclaimed, glancing at his
wife with admiration and love.
"I know it, and it would exactly suit me to live here, too," I answered,
looking toward the great river and the forest that bordered its shores.
"Well, suppose you speak to Mr. Throckmorton about it, if you are of the
same mind after thinking it over," Mr. Hayward replied.
"That I will," I answered, mounting my horse.
Bidding them good by, I soon reached the Dragon, where I found Constance
in the little garden beside the Dragon, busy over her plants. Hearing
me approach, she looked up, and seeing who it was, gave a cry of joy.
"Gilbert!"
"Yes," I cried, slipping to the ground and running to her; "I'm back
again, and well, you see, and as the captain promised."
"Oh, Gilbert, you are always surprising us in this way," she answered,
holding my hands and scanning my face to make sure I was not deceiving
her.
"Yes; and I hope you are glad to see me?"
"You know I am, though I was not expecting you so soon."
"You see I couldn't stay away from you any longer, Constance. I've been
away too long already," I answered, kissing her hand.
"Have you left the boat? And what are you doing with Mr. Hayward's
horse?" she asked, in surprise, noticing the animal now for the first
time.
"I've just come from the Haywards."
"How can that be, when you went up the river last night?"
"Our boat met with an accident, and so I dropped down to the Haywards
before landing."
"An accident! What was it?"
"A serious thing," I answered; "and that's why I wanted to be the first
to tell you."
Well it was, too, that I made such haste, for, while I was yet telling
her what had happened, a messenger came up from the river, with a crowd
of people following, calling out that the War Eagle was blown up and all
on board drowned. Stopping him, I asked if it were true that all were
lost, and replying he said not one was saved. This was so much worse
than I had thought that I cried out in anguish at hearing it; but so it
was. Not one saved--Captain McGonnigle! and Devlin! and the pilots!
The poor roustabouts, too, so patient and striving! All gone! every one
cut off, and without time to breathe a prayer! It was too terrible to
think of, and sinking down on the ground I covered my face with my
hands. Alas! poor captain, I mourned, you have sent me home as you
promised, but you yourself will never go back to the wife you have
cherished so long and tenderly. Devlin! and is this the end of all your
ambition and cleverness! It is too much! And the dear pilots! the wise
men up aloft! Surely, never before have you traversed a course so
dreary or steered a sea so black! Thus sorrowing, Constance put her arm
about me and led me into the Dragon; but there was no longer any
sunlight or pleasure in life for me, for my heart was full to bursting
over the terrible fate that had befallen my friends.
*CHAPTER XLVI*
*THE AMERICANS*
Uncle Job, who had been married to Miss Betty while I was away seeing
the world, now lived in great comfort and peace of mind in the new house
I had helped build and furnish before my departure. At first neither he
nor Aunt Betty would listen to my going to the Haywards, but after a few
days, and much to my surprise, they consented. What led them to change
their minds I never knew, unless it might have been something Mr.
Seymour may have said. For I had told Constance that I thought Mrs.
Hayward the best teacher I could have, and that if I did not go there I
would not go anywhere. However that may be, I was permitted to do as I
liked, and I bless the day that it was so, and the happy chance that
thus brought my wayward mind within the influence of Mrs. Hayward's
sweet will and gentle presence.
The Haywards, with whom I now went to live, belonged to that
fine-tempered class that have made our country what it is. Peasants in
position and fortune, they possessed the instincts of rulers and the
fortitude that only the noble in body and mind have. Poor, they endured
its privations with fortitude, awaiting better fortune with sobriety and
patience. If, in the end, their efforts should be crowned with success,
they would still retain the generous impulses of their former station,
or if this was not to be, their children, less burdened, would achieve
the greatness they had failed to grasp. It is among this class, in our
free land, that the virtues of the state lie dormant, awaiting warmth
and the favoring shower, as all who are acquainted with our people know.
Struggling on, vainly more often than otherwise, their children, coming
to manhood, rule our country and direct its commerce. Achieving a just
ambition in this way, none can excel them the world over in greatness or
the gentle arts of husbandry. Nor this alone if we would be truthful.
For not all are great, but shoulder to shoulder and crowding, demagogues
abound, the like of which has not been seen since the days of Athens.
This has been foretold, I know; but who can greatly object if amid so
much golden grain some tares appear? Even these depraved creatures have
their pride in the Great Republic, sweetened with the belief that they,
too, will become honest men like their neighbors, once they have
garnered all the loosely guarded resources of the state. Importunate,
they abuse our trust, I know, but impartially. For if they rob and
delude you to-day, they will deal unfairly with others to-morrow for
your benefit, if thereby they can gain further lease of life. So it
goes; and shall we complain too bitterly if, good-naturedly permitting
every one to thrust his hands into the kneading-trough, many are unclean
and much of the bread in consequence shall be sour and unfit for use?
Of Mrs. Hayward I can never say enough, for she was to me in all things
a tender mother and loving friend. Of her virtues there was no end, and
of these not the least were her gentle womanly ways. In the rude hut
where she lived she was yet a queen, and this by right of her grace and
the sweet serenity of her nature. Beautiful, the meed of admiration was
hers, albeit her only mirror was the placid waters of the great river.
Educated, who could deny her admiration, though her only book was her
Bible? For such deprivations are ever the distress of poverty and life
in a new country. Full of the buoyancy and joy of living, the fragrance
of her presence was a benediction, lifting all about her into a world of
virtue and peace. Of loving and pure mind, the scandal and distraught
of life passed her by, leaving no taint of evil or cloud in her trustful
heart. Exalted above men by right of her inability to do wrong, she yet
believed in their goodness as she did in the goodness of God. Such was
the dear lady with whom I now came to live, and who gave each day some
portion of her time to the betterment of my head and heart. Thus
instructed, I spent several years of my life, and to my great advantage
then and now.
Of Mr. Hayward, what shall I say that you may see him as I do, looking
back, and not too clearly, through the fast-gathering years of a long
life? A man of talent and ambition, and every way kindly, he yet lost
something each day in comparison with her. This not strange, for the
pliant reed, bending before the sweeping torrent, recovers its poise
unhurt, while the stouter plant, struggling against the swift-running
stream, is uprooted or broken in the effort. Amid the rude surroundings
in which he sought preferment, and where none might wholly succeed,
every encounter left some dent or disfiguring scar. The struggle and
its hopelessness seamed his face and clouded his brow, despite his
courage, so that all too soon he lost the glow and ambient fire of his
youthful days. Diversion would have prevented this, and preserved till
death impulses that lost in warmth for lack of nourishment; but this,
unhappily, is ever the misfortune of obscure or lonely life. For of
vices he had not one, save a too great ambition to get on in the narrow
world in which he lived. Amid great surroundings he would have been
great. As it was, striving to accomplish much with little, not one of
his ventures enriched him, while many failed altogether. Unconquerable,
however, he struggled on undismayed, as such men will, to the very end.
This, sorrow over it as we may, is, unhappily, ever the beginnings of
men as it is of the affairs with which they deal.
Of these friends of my youth I can never think except with bowed head
and throbbing heart. One sought to teach me the beauty and sweetness of
life, mixing with her instruction the gentle thoughts that animate women
and make them, as has been said, the inspiration of men and the Mother
of God. The other taught me more simple and practical things, but not
the less necessary, on that account, to our welfare and happiness here
and hereafter.
*CHAPTER XLVII*
*MAKING THE MOST OF THINGS*
Mr. Hayward in his youth, so it was said, had looked forward to a
professorship or something of that nature, but coming to the West when a
young man, and there being no call for anything of the kind, he had
ended by becoming a ferry-man and small farmer. Of his business I knew
little, but my presence affording him some leisure, it was not long
before he began to extend his affairs, and in directions not before
thought of, or at best only vaguely. In this his energy and fertility
of mind never ceased to be a matter of wonder and instruction to me, and
never will.
"Learn something every day, Gilbert," he would say, "if it is only the
fraction of an idea. You can't make headway else, for it is as
necessary to fertilize the mind as it is a cabbage-patch. If you don't
thus burnish your wares, they will rust, for there is no standing still.
Besides, new ideas are needed to encourage you to keep on in what you
are doing, to say nothing of attempting other things."
"How can one learn anything here?" I asked one day, looking about on the
still landscape.
"In many ways. You see, you hear, you think; and while the people who
use the ferry don't impart much knowledge, the Lord knows it is what
their idle chatter suggests that is valuable." And truth to tell, he
never failed himself to profit by the advice he gave; for however small
the hint conveyed in what he heard or saw, it was enough to set his mind
in motion, and so bring forth fruit of some kind.[*]
[*] Gilbert Holmes, on reviewing this chapter of his life, thought it
should be omitted. It was apparent, however, that he was influenced in
this by the fear that it would in some way reflect on his dear friend
Hayward. I could not share in this opinion, believing it greatly to the
latter's honor, and for this reason have disregarded his expressions in
the matter, feeling that Mr. Hayward was beyond most men, and what he
did and said worthy of regard. Moreover, it serves to make us better
acquainted with Gilbert Holmes himself, and his sweet charity and gentle
ways and belief and trust in those about him: and for these reasons, if
for no others, I have thought it should not be omitted.--THE AUTHOR.
As the ferry was not much used, Mr. Hayward early conceived the idea
that other things might be sandwiched in to occupy our spare time. For
of idleness he was the sworn enemy, and because of it rainy days and
other unprofitable moments fretted him beyond endurance. Rest, as most
people understand it, he looked upon as idleness.
"You can rest best by changing from one kind of work to another," he
would insist, "not by whittling a stick or going to the circus."
It was in pursuance of such ideas that we hit upon the scheme of
manufacturing shingles in the intervals of our other duties, and this to
our great advantage, as it appeared.
"People must have roofs over their heads, and many have none, or at best
only poor ones," he explained. "They need shingles for this, and their
manufacture will open a new field for us, and one that will dovetail
with our work at the ferry."
For him to conceive an idea was to put it in execution, and so we at
once set out to build a machine, and this so near the landing that both
industries could be carried on at the same time. The blocks for making
the shingles we cut in winter and brought to the mill when other work
was not pressing, and in order that bad weather might not hinder us we
inclosed the machine in a rough shed. At one side we built a vat, and
filling this with blocks of the needed length, we let in the water, and
now starting a brisk fire in the furnace, the steam and heated water
soon softened the material ready for cutting. I being the smaller of the
two, and yet sufficient, held the blocks while Mr. Hayward worked the
lever by which the knife was raised and lowered. Black walnut being
plentiful, we used it, but sparingly, exacting a higher price. Being
tenacious of fiber, the labor of cutting this wood was great, and so
taxed Mr. Hayward's muscles that they sometimes fairly snapped under the
strain. With cottonwood, of which there was no end, it was different;
for if steamed to a proper consistency, you could cut it as you would
clip a sausage. Of the two kinds of shingles our preference inclined
strongly to cottonwood; on Mr. Hayward's part because the labor was
less, and on mine because it did not discolor my hands, black walnut
staining them so that they were of every shade from light brown to a
deep black. This mortified me at first, but afterward, Constance not
speaking of it or appearing to notice anything unusual, I became more
reconciled to the disfigurement. Indeed, the dear girl regarded it so
little that when visiting us at the mill, if I happened to be packing
the shingles, she would sit by my side and pass them to me, one by one,
for an hour at a time. Or, if I was holding the blocks in the machine,
she would seat herself in my place, and do the work, or make pretense of
doing it. At such times I watched her from the platform where I stood,
and this not always discreetly; for one day, when observing her instead
of attending to the business in hand, I came near to losing my arm under
the great knife. After that I determined to be more circumspect, but
nevertheless took many desperate chances that I might speak to her or
gaze upon her dear form while occupied with my work.
Of the two kinds of shingles, buyers were averse to cottonwood, on the
ground that it would warp and, being soft, the more quickly decay.
Neither of these things, however, would Mr. Hayward fully admit.
"If properly seasoned, as in our case, and cut with reference to the
grain, and afterward laid with sufficient lap and due regard to security
of joints, a cottonwood shingle will afford protection that any man may
be proud of--for the price," he would say, and truly enough.
Of the prevailing belief that pine made the most serviceable shingle, he
professed to think lightly.
"You must not overlook the great difference in cost between cottonwood
and pine," he would say to customers; "that is always an important item
with poor people. Black walnut is superior in wearing qualities, and we
furnish it when wanted; but if utility and cheapness are considered,
cottonwood is preferable to all others."
Of the outcome of our sales I do not so well remember, but in new
communities, where everything is being tried, buyers do not treasure
malice, as they do in older societies, against a seller if they happen
not to get the very best.
"Only idle men and fools can spare time to think of their grievances,"
Mr. Hayward was in the habit of saying, and indeed he carried this out
in his own life when he got the worst end of a bargain, as he often did.
Moreover, if we had a margin of advantage in the sale of our shingles,
it was offset by the difficulty we had in collecting our money
afterward.
"Most men are like children," Mr. Hayward used to remark, when looking
over our list of bad debts; "they will buy anything if too much stress
is not laid on payment, and this last one cannot do if his goods are in
discredit, as in our case."
Of the latitude allowed traders in respect to their goods, he was always
tenacious, but never to the extent of taking undue advantage of any one.
"In ancient times, among trading people," he once explained, referring
to such matters, "gain of every kind was thought meritorious, no matter
how acquired. In our day it is different, though we are allowed to put
as good a face on matters as possible, and this holds true of cottonwood
shingles as much as it does of poor calico or sanded sugar. Our
shingles may curve a little now and then if not properly placed, but
when Jake Kilp says a boy must sit on every shingle to keep it down, he
goes to the other extreme."
"Yes, Klip's a liar," Blott, who was standing by, spoke up. "Why, a
willin' boy could easily keep down two such shingles, or three, for that
matter, if he was spry."
"Nonsense!" Mr. Hayward answered; "there is nothing funny about it. If
they will put enough nails in the shingle it will hold. It is with
shingles as it is with trees; but men will plant a ten-dollar tree in a
five-cent hole, and then blame the seller if it dies. There is nothing
in such economy, though plenty of men practice it."