THE WRONG BOAT.
The negro, almost overwhelmed with surprise, watched the surface of the
water to see Tom reappear, but it was only for a moment, and then with a
rush one of the trees, which had broken loose from its moorings, swept
over the very place where the head was seen, and the negro fairly danced
with consternation when he saw one of the limbs catch Tom and carry him
under water with it.
"Dar, now!" he exclaimed. "If I go home and tell moster about this thief
being drowned here, he will think I did it. What's dat?"
When Tom arose to the surface, it was only just long enough to clear the
water from his face, settle his hat firmly on his head, and take a fresh
hold of the bundle containing his lunch, and then he saw the tree
sweeping down upon him. To take in one long breath and go down again
before it got to him was barely the work of a moment, so that when the
tree passed Tom came up a second time, and this time he was much nearer
to the bank he wanted to reach than he was before. A few lusty strokes
brought him to it, and by the aid of trailing roots and vines he made
his way to the top with the agility of a sailor, so that by the time the
darky had got over wondering at his narrow escape, he was high upon the
bank opposite to him, and pulling off his boot to see if his money was
safe.
"Is dat you, sar?" said he, scarcely raising his voice above a whisper.
"Of course it is I," replied Tom, who did not know whether to get angry
over the effects of his unfortunate plunge or to laugh outright at the
darky's exhibition of astonishment. "You thought you had seen the last
of me, didn't you? It takes a bigger stream than this to drown me. There
is all the money I have got," he went on, taking his roll from his boot
and holding it out to the view of the negro. "It don't amount to five
thousand dollars, by a long shot."
The darky did not know what else to say. He watched Tom as he pulled off
his coat and vest and wrung the water from them, examined his bundle to
see that his lunch was safe, said he thought the steamboat landing was
about ten miles distant and there wasn't any more creeks to cross before
he got there, and then saw him disappear in the woods. He stood for some
moments gazing at the place where he had last been seen, and then
shouldered his axe and turned away.
"Dat's a mighty slick little rascal," said he, as he wended his course
back to his camp--"a mighty slick little rascal. I don't reckon I'd best
say anything to moster about it; and as for Pomp--I won't say anything
to him, either. He'll leave me to cut rails alone if I do dat."
"My first adventure," muttered Tom, as he hastened along the narrow
ridge that led him toward the Mississippi. "That old darky believes, as
much as he believes anything, that the little money I had in my boot was
the cause of my being spilled into the drink; but it is all honest
money, every bit of it."
The sun grew hot as he went along, and by changing his coat and vest
from one arm to the other, and by turning his money over in his hands to
keep the wet bills on the outside, he gradually removed the effects of
his cold plunge, so that long before he arrived at the point where the
negroes were chopping he could tell them that he had started for the
landing on horseback, but that his nag had thrown him and he was obliged
to continue his journey on foot. He also tried to eat a little of the
lunch with which the darky had provided him, but the johnny cake and
bacon were wet, and after a few mouthfuls he dropped the remainder
behind the log on which he was sitting.
The negroes who were cutting wood for the supply of steamers that were
plying up and down the river belonged to the man who owned the yard. As
there were probably a dozen of them in all engaged in chopping wood all
the time, their employer could afford a white man to oversee their work
and the teams, but he seemed to have nothing to do but to sit on a log
and whittle a stick. He listened good-naturedly to Tom's story, and told
him where he could go to find the camp. The largest house in it was his,
and he would probably find books and papers enough to amuse him until he
came in from his work. The _Jennie June_ would probably be the next
steamer that would stop at the landing for wood, and she would be along
some time during the night.
"I think that books and papers occupy the most of your time," said Tom
to himself, as he started away in obedience to these instructions. "If I
were a negro, I don't know any better job than having you for an
overseer. Did you see how those negroes clustered around him to hear my
story? If I had been their overseer, I should have started them back to
their work in a hurry."
Tom found the camp deserted by all save an old darky who was sitting on
a bench outside one of the doors sunning himself. He was the cook, he
said. He pointed out the overseer's house and told Tom to go in there
and make himself at home, and Tom went; but he did not make himself very
much at home after he got there. He found several books scattered about,
but they were all old; and it was hard to tell where the overseer hung
his clothes, for the back of the solitary chair of which the cabin could
boast was liberally supplied with them. His trunk was open and the
contents were littered about, and on the bare table, on which the
overseer had left some signs of his breakfast which were still
untouched, were articles that ought long ago to have been in the wash. A
glance about the cabin showed Tom that there was at least one article of
which the overseer was choice--his rifle. That, together with the
powder-horn, bullet-pouch, and hunting-knife, was hung upon pegs over
the door. Whatever accident might befall his other traps, his hunting
outfit would always be safe.
Tom took a seat on the bench outside the door, looked up at the sun to
see how near twelve o'clock it was, and then looked at the negro. The
latter made no signs of getting dinner, and Tom finally made up his mind
that the men had taken their dinner to the woods with them; but his own
stomach clamored loudly for something nourishing, and Tom finally
accosted the negro.
"I say, uncle, are you not going to get some dinner?"
"Not before fo' o'clock, sar," replied the darky. "I blow de horn den
and all hands come in."
Tom was uneasy after that, and wished now when it was too late that he
had reserved a portion of the johnny cake and bacon that had been
furnished him. Wet as it was, it was much better than nothing. He found
a book and made out to interest himself in a story for five mortal
hours, when suddenly the long shrill notes of a horn rang in his ears.
He would soon have something to eat, at all events. Presently a thought
occurred to him.
"Say, uncle, how do you tell the time? You haven't got any clock, have
you?"
"Oh, no, sar," said the negro. "Ise got something better than a clock.
You see that ar peak of dat building hyar? Well, every time it's fo'
o'clock the p'int of that peak is right hyar."
"Summer and winter?" asked Tom.
"Summer and winter dat peak is right hyar. Den I knows it is fo' o'clock
and den I blows de horn."
Tom wanted to ask him whether or not the sun was always in the same
place summer and winter, but gave it up when he heard the sound of the
negroes' voices raised in a rude sort of a plantation melody coming from
the woods, for he knew that supper was close at hand. Nearer came the
strains, and in the short space of half an hour the cavalcade streamed
into view. What a lively set they were then! One would have thought that
cutting wood was the happiest part of a darky's life. Keeping up their
song, they slipped off the wagon, leaving the teamsters to take care of
the mules. The overseer came into the cabin, and after exchanging a
merry salutation with Tom, remarking that he and the darkies had
performed a task that day that would have done credit to a bigger force
than his, he cleared the table in readiness for supper. The articles
that adorned the back of the chair were cast upon the trunk, the
unwashed apparel on the table was swept off and thrown on the top of
them, and then the overseer was ready for a smoke.
"Yes, sir, me and the niggers have done a heap of work," said the man,
seating himself on the threshold by Tom's side. "They were taking it
easy when you came along, just as I mean that all black ones shall who
work under me, but perked up a bit and went to work right smart. Aint
they happy now? Every one singing at the top of his voice."
Supper being over, which consisted of corn bread, bacon, and tea, Tom
spent two hours in conversation with the overseer, until, as he was
relating a story of his personal experience, an audible snore came from
his direction, and, facing about, he found that his auditor had gone
fast asleep, stretched out on the floor, and using the back of his chair
for a pillow. It wasn't dark yet, by a long ways, and the sounds that
came from the camp of the negroes told him that there was a heap of fun
going on there; but as it seemed to be the rule to go to slumber
whenever he was ready, Tom went to the overseer's bed and climbed into
it.
It seemed to him that he had scarcely closed his eyes when someone laid
a hand upon his shoulder and shouted in his ear that the _Jennie June_
was at the landing and taking on a load of wood. That was enough for
Tom, who wanted to get into a bed where he could take his clothes off.
When he got his eyes fairly open, there was no one in sight, but he
heard the sound of a steamer's bell, followed by the hoarse commands of
the mate, and when he reached the door, he found the whole yard lighted
up by a torch which the steamer had placed in her bow. The boat was made
fast to the levee when he got there, and her crew were making ready to
carry on her load of wood, but Tom paid no attention to them. More than
half asleep, he made his way on deck and into the saloon, which he found
deserted by all save a party of men who were engaged in playing cards.
They never looked up as Tom entered, being deeply interested in the
piles of money before them, and he passed on to the desk and made
application for a room to a man with a pen behind his ear. Without
saying a word he took down a key from a board by the side of his desk
and led Tom along the cabin and unlocked a door and showed him two
bunks. The lower one had evidently been occupied during the afternoon.
"Take the upper bunk," said the clerk. "The lower one belongs to a man
who is playing cards, but I guess he won't care. Good-night."
Tom was much too sleepy to know or care who owned the lower bunk; he
pulled off his clothes and with a mingled sigh of satisfaction and
comfort climbed into the upper one, and composed himself to sleep. He
awoke once during the night, only to find that the steamer had finished
taking on her load of wood, and was now ploughing her way along the
river; and, having satisfied himself on this point, Tom rolled over and
went to sleep again.
The next time he awoke it was broad daylight, and the boat was rocking
as boats always do when they have nothing to do but to make their way to
their destination as soon as possible. The stool (there were no chairs
in the state-room) which he had left unoccupied had been drawn close to
the door, and a man's coat and vest lay over it; but it was not that
that attracted Tom's attention, and caused his eyes to open to their
widest extent. It was a revolver, a murderous-looking thing, and
carrying a ball as big as an army musket. Tom thought it would be a good
plan to get out of the way of that thing, and, holding in his breath, he
slipped out of his bunk; but cautious as he was in his movements, the
man heard him. He opened his eyes and gazed fixedly at Tom, then caught
up his revolver and thrust it under his pillow, seized his coat and vest
and threw them between the bulkhead and himself, and then rolled over
and prepared to go to sleep again.
"Morning," said he.
"Good-morning, sir," said Tom.
He thought it a wise thing to be civil, although the man's face did not
look like one belonging to one who would use a revolver on slight
provocation. The long silken whiskers which fell down upon his breast
might cover up the expression of the lower part of his countenance, but
they could not conceal the merry twinkle of the mild blue eyes which had
looked at Tom for a moment. Considerably relieved, Tom slipped into his
clothes and went out, closing the door behind him, and made the best of
his way toward the barber shop; for be it known that up to this time Tom
had not touched his hair at all. There was just one barber there, and he
was as anxious to make money as anyone he ever saw.
"Shave, sir?" said the negro, as Tom came in and pulled off his hat. "I
declare if dat aint the worst-looking head I ever set my peepers on. A
shampoo will just about set you right."
"Don't want it," said Tom shortly.
"I reckon dat you was playing cards last night," said the barber, as he
deftly tucked the towel around Tom's chin and began brushing up his
hair.
"No, I wasn't," said Tom.
"Den you missed the purtiest sight you ever see. Dere was one man
dere,--he was a cattle-raiser,--and he raked in thirty thousand dollars
from the two sharpers who were trying to gouge him out of his money! I
wouldn't like to be in his boots, I tell you. Dey mean to kill him afore
dey get done with this trip! I declare, I believe he bunks with
you--room No. 19."
"By gracious!" exclaimed Tom, starting up. And to himself he added: "I
don't wonder that he had his revolver handy. He had his pants on and
that was the reason I didn't see them."
"Did you say something, sir?" asked the darky.
"No, I didn't," replied Tom.
"Yes, sar, dat was the purtiest sight I ever saw. De man dealt himself
fo' aces, and one of the sharpers, the one that was hottest after his
money, fo' kings. De best of it was he drew fo' cards, so he knew right
where de cards were stocked. The sharper thought there had been a
mistake somewhere, and went down in his jeans and pulled out his money,
fifteen thousand dollars' wuth. De man saw him,--he had more bills where
dem came from,--and de sharper showed fo' kings; but when he went to
take de money--I declare, your head is awful dirty. I think a shampoo
will set you just about right."
"I don't want it. Go on. When he went to take the money--then what?"
"Well, he put down de fo' aces with one hand and drew his revolver with
the other. De sharper concluded he would let the money stay; and dat
broke up de game. You ought to have seen dat sharper's face. He's a
mighty slick rogue, and I bet you he'll put a ball into dat sheep-herder
before we gets up to Fort Gibson."
"Why don't you tell him of it?"
"Shucks! What do I want to go and get myself into trouble for? He goes
up and down dis road every year and he knows it already. It aint none of
my business."
The reader will remember that we are describing things that happened a
good many years ago. At that time the cotton-planters, and the
cattle-and sheep-herders who lived far back in the country, made use of
the steamboats, which were the only means of communication they had.
Gambling was much in vogue, and if the sharpers who met them at New
Orleans couldn't find any means of inducing them to play there, they
would take passage in these boats and try them again when every other
influence except reading was at a discount. It was a dangerous thing to
pick up a stranger on these trips, especially if one had money with him,
or anything that could be changed into money. For instance, there was a
contractor who started from New Orleans to do some government business
at Little Rock. He had half a dozen teams and everything he wanted to
make his enterprise successful, with the exception of the men. Those he
was going to hire of the planters, and of course he had to have some
money to do it with. On the way up he fell in with a very modest
stranger who didn't know anything about playing cards, and the
consequence was before he reached his destination he was penniless. And
the beauty of it was the modest stranger was dead broke, too! Every cent
of his little hundred dollars had been won by the two strangers whom the
contractor had invited to join in their game, as well as the last mule
which the latter had to pull his wagons. The contractor made out a bill
of sale of everything he had, and the next morning he was missing. He
had jumped overboard, and everybody thought he was drowned accidentally.
The modest stranger and his two confederates took the mules ashore and
sold them at a big figure, and went back to New Orleans well satisfied
with their trip. It seems that in the case of this stranger the sharpers
had picked up the wrong man. He had "stocked" the cards on them, and won
everything they had, and the darky knew, from certain little signs he
had seen, that his life was not safe so long as he remained on board
that steamer. Tom had a horror of everything that related to gambling,
and he wanted to talk about something else.
"This boat is making pretty good time, isn't she?" he said, during a
pause in which the darky went back to his bench after his comb and
brush.
"Yes, sar. We don't touch anywhere till we get to Memphis, and we shall
reach there about----"
"What?" exclaimed Tom.
"Eh? Did you speak, sar?"
"Why, I want to go down the river," gasped Tom, who couldn't believe
that his ears were not deceiving him. "Memphis! That's up the river."
"Course it is, sar. And you are going dere as fast as you kin."
"Memphis!" exclaimed Tom.
He couldn't wait for the barber to get through with him, but, jumping
out from his hands, with the apron floating all about him, he ran to the
nearest window and looked out. He saw the trees dancing swiftly by, but
it was not to them that he devoted the most of his attention. The
current of the river was what drew his gaze. He took one look at it, at
the trees and stumps that covered the surface of the water which the
river managed to pick up in the low lands when it was high, and then
returned disconsolately to his chair. He didn't want to go to Memphis.
It was two thousand miles out of his way, and, besides, there were any
number of business men that knew him on the levee.
"You wanted to go to New Orleans, I take it," said the barber.
But Tom was done talking. He wanted to have his hair brushed as quickly
as possible, so that he might go to the office and settle with the
clerk; so the darky speedily put the finishing touches to it, received
twenty cents for his trouble, and Tom hurried out and in a few seconds
more was standing in front of the desk. He did not see much room when he
got there, for there was a big broad-shouldered man standing in front of
the desk, with his arms spread out over it, talking with the clerk; but
he stepped back to make space for Tom, and smiled so good-naturedly at
him over his bushy whiskers that the boy was satisfied that he had one
friend on the boat, if he didn't have another.
"Morning," said he. "Did the sight of that revolver scare you?"
"No, sir. But I got up just in time to find that I am bound up the
river. I didn't say which way I wanted to go, and the overseer at the
landing called me for the wrong boat."
"Well, you've got to go now that you are started," said the clerk,
pulling a book toward him that contained a list of the passengers, "and
it will take just five dollars to pay your fare to Memphis."
Very reluctantly Tom pulled out his roll of bills and counted out the
five dollars. Then he turned and went out on the guard and seated
himself, almost ready to cry with vexation. Presently his room-mate
appeared, and without saying so much as "By your leave" he drew a chair
close to Tom's side and sat down.