THE FIRE ON THE THOMAS WISTAR.
When Mr. Welford heard Phil’s story the next morning he looked very
grave. He was not altogether surprised at the news, because he had
known there was a mortgage upon the property, and, as he remarked to
Phil,--
“If a man disappears suddenly and leaves affairs of that kind behind
him, he may expect trouble. I am not a lawyer, nor have I full
knowledge of your uncle’s business, but I know that for some time he
has been making arrangements to satisfy all claims against him, and,
among other things, to relieve his property of this mortgage, which was
intended to be a temporary thing, and was given to satisfy old Touron,
who insisted, as soon as your grandfather died, upon having his claim
against your uncle secured in this way. I would have expected Touron to
foreclose the mortgage if he had a legal chance, which I suppose he
has.”
“But why should he do it just at this time?” asked poor Phil.
“That shows his talent for business,” said Mr. Welford. “What he wants
is not his money, but Hyson Hall. And, having heard that your uncle is
away, he sends his son here to see if his absence is likely to continue
for any considerable time. Such a condition of affairs would be of
great advantage to him. If your uncle were here, he might pay whatever
interest or part of the principal was due, and so stop proceedings.”
“How could Mr. Touron have heard that my uncle had gone away?”
“He lives in New York, and such news could readily travel that far. Old
Touron keeps a sharp lookout on his debtors. I never met his son, but
I know he has spent most of his life in France, where, of late, he has
been acting as his father’s business agent. I’ve no doubt he is a sharp
fellow.”
“I know he is,” said Philip. “He is in town now. He left us yesterday.”
“Then I believe I saw him,” said Mr. Welford. “Has he dark hair and
eyes, and a very small moustache? And is he rather taller than you?”
“That’s like him,” said Phil.
“Then I saw him in Mr. Markle’s office, where I stopped for a moment
this morning. He is probably engaging Markle to attend to the matter.”
“That looks very badly, does it not, sir?” said Phil, with a little
huskiness in his voice.
Mr. Welford had much more sympathy for his visitor than when he came
to him in regard to the trouble with Susan. This was something of an
entirely different nature.
“It does look badly, my boy,” he said, “but you must not despair.
I have no authority to attend to this affair; but your uncle is my
friend, and I’ll take it upon myself to see a lawyer, and have the
property protected, if possible. One thing you must remember. If you
can in any way find out where your uncle is, you must do it, and let
him know how things are going on. His presence here is more important
than anything else.”
“I do wish that I had the slightest idea where he is!” exclaimed Phil.
“All that I can find out is that he walked away with a knapsack on his
back.”
“In that way he has travelled long distances,” said Mr. Welford. “But
he may be crossing the Atlantic now for all we know. Of one thing we
may be certain, your uncle has not run away from his debts. He is an
honorable man.”
“I know that,” said Phil, warmly.
“Yes,” continued Mr. Welford. “He is undoubtedly careless, and his
mind is occupied with too many things; but he is not dishonorable. And
now, my boy, go home, and make yourself as easy as you can. I’ll find
out how things are going on, and let you know. By the way, how did you
manage that affair with the housekeeper? Have you discharged her?”
“Oh, no, sir!” said Phil. “That’s all right. We’re good friends again.”
“I am very glad to hear it,” said Mr. Welford. “That looks as if you
were getting into the right way.”
And he laid his hand on Phil’s shoulder, which was a good deal for Mr.
Welford to do for any boy.
When Phil left the banker’s office he made up his mind that his great
duty was to find his uncle. This was the only thing that he could even
try to do now; but how to set about it he did not know.
As he rode away, he saw a crowd of people running down towards the
river-front of the town. He stopped a boy, and asked him what was the
matter.
“The Thomas Wistar’s afire!” said the boy, as he scampered off.
Phil knew the Thomas Wistar very well. She was a large steamboat, which
had run upon the river for many years. She was once a passenger-boat,
but lately had been used to carry freight. At any other time he would
have hurried down to the river with the crowd; but just now he felt
that this was not the time for him to be going to fires. He must hasten
home. Perhaps his uncle might be there.
He had not gone half a mile before he saw two men in a wagon driving
rapidly towards him. Just as he reached them they turned into a
crossroad which led down to the river. One of them called back to him,--
“There’s a boat on fire, floating down the river!”
Phil looked over the fields and could see the heavy black smoke in the
direction of the river. Still he did not follow the men, but pushed on
towards home faster than before.
“If she’s floating down the river,” he thought, “I can see her from our
house.”
The road from Boontown to Hyson Hall was half a mile back from the
river, and on his way Phil could get no view of the conflagration, but,
as he looked back, he sometimes saw the smoke, which never seemed to be
far behind him.
“She’s coming down pretty fast,” he thought.
“The Thomas Wistar is afire!” he said to Joel, when he dismounted at
the barn.
“There’s none of my property on board,” remarked Joel, as he took
Jouncer’s bridle and led him to the stable.
Hurrying to the house, Phil met Jenny, who told him that Chap Webster
and Phœnix Poole had been there, and had gone down to the river.
Phil ran round the house and over the fields to the water. He found
Chap and Phœnix in the scow, which they had poled to some distance from
the shore, and had anchored over the place where Phœnix had found the
side of a ship.
Apparently, they had not been diving, and were now standing in the scow
looking at the burning steamer, not half a mile away.
“What boat is it?” shouted Chap, as Phil appeared on the shore. “We
can’t make her out.”
“The Thomas Wistar,” cried Phil. “Come ashore for me!”
There was a small row-boat fastened to the scow, and into this Phœnix
jumped and ferried Phil over to the scow.
“I brought our little boat down,” said Chap, “because I didn’t know but
the scow might be aground, and I want to see what I can find out about
this thing before the war opens. I hope nobody is aboard the Wistar.
She looks as if she was bound to burn up.”
The burning steamboat, which was coming down the river with the wind
and the tide, presented a grand spectacle. Great clouds of black smoke
arose from her, which, every now and then, were lighted up by flashes
of flame.
The wind was a little behind her, on her port side, and as she floated
down, turned partly sideways to the current, it blew the heavy clouds
of smoke in front of her, sometimes almost concealing her bow and
paddle-wheels from view.
The fire, which broke out as she lay at her wharf that morning, had
got beyond control, and she had been cut loose and set adrift for fear
that, on account of the high wind, the fire might spread to other
vessels, and to the buildings on the river-front.
“I don’t believe anybody is aboard of her,” said Phil. “There must have
been time for all hands to get off. If any people were on her there’d
be boats coming down to take them off.”
“There isn’t any steamboat in town, except the old tub of a
ferry-boat,” said Chap, “and they’d be afraid to bring her anywhere
near, for fear she’d take fire herself.”
“I wonder how far she’ll float down the river,” said Phœnix, “before
she burns to the water’s edge and sinks?”
“Give it up,” said Chap. “But I tell you what it is, boys, this would
have been a gorgeous show at night. We could have seen the blaze
better then, and the sky and the water would have been lighted up for
miles. It would have gone ahead of any fireworks we ever saw.”
“If they had only known you wanted a show,” said Phœnix, “they might
have smothered the fire and put off the display till night.”
“Phœnix,” said Chap, “don’t get in the way of making fun of people.
It’s sometimes worse than thrashing ’em. But she does look grand,
doesn’t she, boys?”
The Thomas Wistar was now approaching quite near, and although she was
well out in the river, the boys fancied they could feel the heat from
her, for the wind was blowing somewhat in their direction.
When she was nearly opposite to them, they could see her stern, which
before had been obscured by the clouds of smoke which rolled in front
of her, and it was evident that so far the fire had not extended to
that portion of the vessel. The strong wind blew sparks, smoke, and
flame all forward.
“Boys,” cried Phil, “let’s row up to her! There may be somebody on
board of her!”
“There isn’t anybody on her,” said Chap, “or they’d be on deck.”
“We can go up close and shout,” said Phil. “There might be somebody
below. There isn’t any danger if we keep behind the fire. Come along!”
And he jumped into the row-boat.
Without another word the two boys tumbled in after him, and, untying
the rope which held them to the scow, Chap seized the oars and rowed
out to the burning steamboat.
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