IN WHICH PHIL GOES EAST, AND MEETS CAPTAIN FARRADAY.
By the time I was ready to open my trunk, the steamer had settled upon
the bottom of the river, which was not very deep at this point. Finding
the boat was going down no farther, I dragged my trunk up into the
cabin. I do not believe in making a fuss when there is no occasion for
a fuss. My property was safe, and so far as I was able to judge, my
fellow-passengers were equally fortunate. A few of the ladies insisted
upon screaming, even after the danger was past; but it is their
prerogative to scream, and no one had a right to object.
I did not object, and I believe everybody else was equally reasonable.
I heard a burly gentleman swearing at the pilot for the collision in
broad daylight, without a fog or even a mist to excuse him. I do not
know whose fault it was, and not being an accident commissioner, I did
not investigate the circumstances attending the collision. I only know
that no lives were lost, though a great deal of heavy freight on the
main deck and in the hold was badly damaged. The crew, and a few of the
passengers who happened to be below, were subjected to a cold bath; but
I have not heard that any one took cold on account of it.
After a few minutes, some of the gentlemen seemed to consider the
calamity a rather pleasant variation of the monotony of the trip,
and not a few of the ladies to regard themselves as the heroines of
a disaster. The floor of the saloon was still dry and comfortable,
though it had an inclination of about thirty degrees from its proper
horizontal position, and therefore was not comfortable for ladies to
walk upon.
The steamer which had caused the mischief had not been disabled. She
had run her solid bow into the quarter of the other, and stove in the
side of the hull. She ran alongside the wreck, and the passengers
were able to step on board of her without wetting a foot, or even
crossing a plank. I took my trunk on my shoulder, and effected a safe
retreat, inspired by the same wisdom which induces all rats to desert
a sinking ship, and especially one already sunk. Myself, my trunk, and
my treasure were safe. I was happy in the result, and doubly so because
all my fellow-passengers were equally fortunate. I am sure, if a single
life had been sacrificed, I should not have been happy. As it was, I
was disposed to be jolly.
I put my trunk in a safe place in the cabin of the steamer which had
made the mischief, and turned my attention to the people and the events
around me. I found a lone woman, who insisted upon being very much
distressed, when there was not the least occasion for any such display
of feminine weakness. She had saved herself, but had not saved her
baggage, which the deck hands were transferring from the sunken boat
with all possible expedition. The lady was sure her trunk would go to
the bottom; but when she had told me the number of her room, I conveyed
it to the cabin, and placed it above my own. The lady was happy then,
and twenty-five per cent. was added to my own felicity by her present
peace of mind. She sat down upon her trunk, and did not seem disposed
to abandon it. As in watching her own she could not well help watching
mine, which was beneath it, and finding it so well guarded, I left the
place, and went on the hurricane-deck to take a survey of the lost
craft.
In this elevated locality a violent discussion between the two captains
and the two pilots of the steamers was in progress. The representatives
of each boat blamed those of the other. I listened with interest, but
not with edification, for I could not ascertain from anything that was
said which of the two was the more to blame. Each pilot had mistaken
the intention of the other, and probably both had become rather
reckless from long experience. I had often noticed on the Mississippi
and the Ohio, as well as in other places, that pilots are disposed to
run their boats as close as possible to other boats, when there is not
the least necessity for doing so. There is a kind of excitement in
going as near as possible without hitting. Men and boys, in driving
horses, are apt to be governed by the same principle, and laugh at the
timid reinsman who gives a wide berth to the vehicle he encounters.
I have had considerable experience now, and I have come to the
conclusion that it is always best to keep on the safe side. It is folly
to incur useless risks; and as a venerable young man of twenty-eight,
I would rather be laughed at for going a good way to avoid even a
possible peril than be applauded for making "a close shave." It is
criminal vanity to run into danger for the sake of the excitement of
such a situation, and people who do it are not really courageous. On
the contrary, it is cowardly in the moral sense, for the person is not
brave enough to face a smile or a word of ridicule.
One or both of these pilots had been trying to make "a close shave,"
where the river was broad enough for them to keep their boats a quarter
of a mile apart. If the loss of the boat and the damage to the freight
had fallen upon them alone, it would have served them right; but I
doubt whether either of them even lost his situation. One boat was
smashed and sunk, the other was not much injured. It was a pity that
the loss could not have been equally divided between the two; but as it
could not be so, of course the captain who had lost his boat was much
the more uncomfortable of the two.
I listened to the profitless discussion till I was tired of it, and
examined the position of the sunken boat. I should have been very glad
to take the job of raising her, if I had not had a mission before me.
Leaving the excited little group on the hurricane-deck, I went down
into the saloon again. The old lady was still seated on her trunk and
mine, and I continued my walk around the steamer. I wanted to see Mr.
A. McGregor again; indeed, I was in search of him, for I had made up
my mind that he was Mr. Ben Waterford, though I could not see why he
was so particular to keep out of my way. Of course I was not sure that
the gentleman was my Chicago acquaintance. The lack of a beard on
the face of Mr. A. McGregor was an argument against the truth of the
supposition; but the form, and as near as I could judge from a single
glance, the features, were those of Mr. Waterford.
I could not find him. The passengers were continually moving about
the galleries and saloons, and if he was trying to avoid me, he could
easily do so. But why should Mr. Ben Waterford wish to avoid me? He did
not love me, I knew. I could even understand why he should hate me.
If he had met me face to face, abused me and worried me, kicked me,
tripped me up in the dark, or pushed me into the river, I might have
explained his conduct. I had seen him in St. Louis, and he had greeted
me very pleasantly. Now he shunned me, if I was not mistaken in the
person. My best efforts failed to afford me a fair view of his face. I
had become quite interested, not to say excited, about the matter, and
I was determined, if possible, to solve the mystery of Mr. A. McGregor.
As soon as the steamer alongside had taken on board all the passengers,
and all the baggage that was above water, she started for Marietta.
Those who wished to land at this town, and wait for another steamer,
did so; but most of them continued in the boat to Parkersburg, where
they took the train immediately on their arrival for Baltimore. As this
latter arrangement would enable me to see Baltimore, I concluded to go
with the majority, for I was afraid I might be detained three or four
days on the river. We arrived just in time to take a night train, and
I received a check for my trunk. As soon as the cars were in motion, I
passed through all of them in search of Mr. A. McGregor. If he was on
the train, I should have a chance to see him where he could not dodge
me, and if he proved to be my old yachting friend, I was determined to
speak to him, and ascertain where he was going.
Mr. A. McGregor was not on the train. I had missed him somewhere, for
in my anxiety for my baggage I had not thought of him till I took my
place in the car. He had either stopped at Marietta, or remained in
Parkersburg. But after all, I was actuated only by curiosity. I had
no special interest either in Mr. A. McGregor or Mr. Ben Waterford.
Whoever he was, if I had not imagined that he wished to avoid me, I
should not have bothered my head about him. However, we had parted
company now, and I was willing to drop the matter, though I was no
wiser than at first.
I arrived at Baltimore the next day, astonished and delighted at the
beautiful scenery of the Potomac, along whose banks the train passed.
My trunk was delivered to me, and I went to a small hotel, where the
expense for a day would not ruin me. I was in a strange city, but one
of which I had heard a great deal, and I was anxious to see the lions
at once. I opened my trunk, and having satisfied myself that my bag of
gold was safe, I did not stop to open it, but hastened up Baltimore
Street, intent upon using my limited time in the city to the best
advantage.
The next day I went to Philadelphia, remaining there a day, and left
for New York, only sorry that my great mission would not allow me
to remain longer. I was excited all the time by the wonders that
were continually presented to me. I was not "green" now, but I was
interested in new objects and new scenes, both in the cities and on the
routes between them.
On the ferry-boat from Amboy I met a plain-looking man, and a question
which I asked him, in regard to a vessel in the bay, opened the way
to a longer conversation. He was dressed in blue clothes, and by the
manner in which he spoke of the vessel, I concluded that he was a
sailor. He criticised rigging and hull with so many technicalities
that I was bewildered by his speech. He answered my questions with much
good-nature; and when I found he was going to the Western Hotel, I
decided to go there with him. Rooms adjoining each other were assigned
to us, and we went down to dinner together. I saw by the register that
his name was Farraday, and the hotel clerk called him captain. When he
ascertained that I was a stranger in the city, he seemed to take an
interest in me, and very kindly told me some things worth knowing.
"Do you remain long in New York, Captain Farraday?" I asked, pleased
with my new acquaintance, though his breath smelled rather strong of
whiskey, which was the only thing I disliked about him.
"No; I mean to be off to-morrow. I expect my mate to-day, and we are
all ready to sail," he replied. "I am going on board this afternoon.
Perhaps you would like to see my vessel."
"Very much indeed, sir."
"We will go down after dinner."
I wanted to go on board of a sea-going vessel, and I was delighted with
the opportunity.