"THE FERRYMAN'S CRIME"
Mr. Wilford, in spite of his faults and peculiarities, was a kind
father, and never before had been heard to utter such terrible words
as those which had just passed his lips. It was a consolation to
Lawry and his mother to believe that the words were only a threat
which was never intended to be executed, and only made to awe the
youth into silence. It was needless; for, right or wrong, the son
would have died rather than betray his father.
John Wilford's operations in hiding the money were as transparent as
his efforts to quiet the suspicions of his family. The constable
followed his tracks in the soft ground of the corn-field till he came
to a stump in one corner of the lot. It was decayed and hollow, and
in one of the cavities the pocketbook was discovered. Mr. Randall
laughed for joy when it was handed up to him. Its contents were
undisturbed, and not a dollar of the money was missing. The party
walked back to the house, having been absent less than half an hour.
The ferryman was just coming out as they entered the gate.
"I hope you are satisfied," said he, confident that the officers
would never think of crossing the corn-field in search of the lost
treasure.
"I'm satisfied, Mr. Wilford," said the sheriff.
"Don't you think it is a mean thing to come here and accuse me of
robbing one of my passengers?" continued the ferryman.
"I don't think so."
"In my opinion, Mr. Randall hasn't lost any money. I don't believe a
man would throw his coat down anywhere if there was six thousand
dollars in the pocket."
"But the money was lost, whether you believe it or not," interposed
the bank director, irritated by this charge.
"I've heard of such a thing as men losing money to cheat their
creditors, or something of that sort," added the ferryman.
"Don't talk so, husband," said Mrs. Wilford, who, with Lawry, had
come out of the house when they heard the voice of the sheriff,
anxious to learn the result of the search.
"Don't you think that's mean, to accuse a man of cheating his
creditors, after you have stolen his money?" retorted Mr. Randall.
"What right have you to say I stole your money?" demanded Mr.
Wilford, with a show of intense indignation.
"Because you did."
"Can you prove it?"
"I think I can."
"No, you can't. I don't believe you lost any money. It's only a
trick to cheat the bank or your creditors."
"We shall see."
"Don't talk so, husband," repeated Mrs. Wilford.
"Keep still, wife. When a man hasn't done anything, it's hard to be
charged with stealing six thousand dollars. They can't prove anything."
"Yes, we can, Mr. Wilford," interposed the sheriff. "It becomes my
duty to arrest you, though I would rather have done it when your
family were not present."
"Arrest me! What for?" exclaimed John Wilford. "You can't prove
anything."
"Yes, we can," replied the sheriff.
"What can you prove?"
"I think it would be better for you not to talk so much," added the
sheriff, in a low tone. "Come with me, and I will do my duty as
quietly as possible."
"Come with you! What for?" said Mr. Wilford, in a loud tone. "I
didn't steal the money."
"It's a plain case. It's no use for you to deny it any longer."
"But I didn't."
"We have found the money, just where you put it."
"Found--what!" stammered the guilty man.
"Oh, husband!" groaned Mrs. Wilford.
"Oh, father!" sobbed Lawry.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Wilford," said the kind-hearted officer; "but it's
all as plain as daylight. He took the money and hid it in a stump in
the corn-field, where we found it."
"What shall we do?" cried Mrs. Wilford.
"It's a bad business, marm, but I can't help it. I must do my duty."
Mr. Wilford leaned on the garden-fence, with his gaze fixed upon the
ground. He could not look the loved ones in the face, after the crime
he had committed. The smaller children, who had been at play around
the house, were now gathered about the group, unable fully to
comprehend the terrible misfortune which had befallen them; though,
as they gazed on Lawry and their mother, they could not help
realizing that something very sad had happened.
"I'm ready to go with you," said John Wilford to the sheriff, for
the scene was too affecting and humiliating.
"Oh, husband, why did you do it?" exclaimed Mrs. Wilford, as she
grasped one of his arms, clinging to him like a true woman, in spite
of his shame and infamy.
"I don't know why I did it. I was crazy. I wanted to be rich,"
replied the unhappy man.
"I wish you had given back the money, as you said you did."
"I wish I had now."
"Can nothing be done?" continued Mrs. Wilford, appealing to the
sheriff. "Must he go with you?"
"He must; my duty is as plain as it can be."
The poor woman suggested various expedients to avoid the fearful
consequences; she appealed to the bank director, and begged him not
to prosecute her husband. Mr. Randall, though he had been greatly
irritated by the cruel insinuations of the culprit, was not a
malignant man; and he was disposed to grant the petition of the
disconsolate wife. He had recovered his money, and had no malice
against the ferryman. But the sheriff declared that no such
arrangement could be tolerated. The matter had been placed in his
hands, and, as a sworn officer of the law, he should be obliged to
arrest the offender.
In vain Mrs. Wilford pleaded for her husband; in vain Lawry pleaded
for his father; the sheriff, kind and considerate as he had shown
himself to be, was inexorable in the discharge of his duty. There was
no alternative; and John Wilford must go to jail. The poor wife, when
she found that her tears and her pleadings were unavailing, submitted
to the stern necessity. She insisted that her husband should be
allowed to change his dress, which the sheriff readily granted; and
in a short time the culprit appeared in his best clothes. It was a
sad parting between him and his family, and even the ferryman wept as
he passed out from beneath his humble roof, not again to come beneath
its friendly shelter for many, many weary months.
Mrs. Wilford and Lawry were stunned by the heavy blow. The light of
earthly joys seemed suddenly to have gone out, and left them in the
gloom and woe of disgrace. There was nothing to be said at such a
time, and they sobbed in silence, until the sound of the ferry-horn
roused Lawry from his lethargy of grief. Some one wished to cross the
lake, and had given the usual signal with the tin horn, placed on a
post for the purpose, at the side of the road.
"There is no ferryman here now," said Mrs. Wilford gloomily.
"I will go, mother," replied Lawry.
"It may be many a day before your father comes back," added Mrs.
Wilford, as she wiped away her tears. "It is a great deal worse than
a funeral."
"We can't help it, mother, and I suppose we must make the best of it."
"I suppose we must; but I don't know what we are going to do."
"We shall do well enough, mother. I will attend to the ferry; but
poor father--"
Lawry, finding he could not speak without a fresh flow of tears,
hastened out of the house. There were two wagons waiting for him; and
when they were embarked in the boat, he pushed off, and trimmed the
sail for the gentle breeze that was blowing up the lake. The
passengers asked for his father; but Lawry could only tell them that
he had gone away: the truth was too painful for him to reveal. He
returned to his desolate home when he had ferried the wagons over the
lake. There was nothing but misery in that humble abode, and but
little sleep for those who were old enough to comprehend the sadness
and shame of their situation.
Before morning the news of John Wilford's crime had been circulated
through the village of Port Rock and its vicinity. Some knew that the
ferryman was lazy and thriftless, and wondered he had not robbed
somebody before. Others had always regarded him as a person of no
sagacity or forethought, but did not think he would steal. Many
pitied his family, and some said that Lawry was "as smart as two of
his father," and that his mother and the children would be well
provided for.
The intelligence went to the mansion of Mr. Sherwood, and there it
touched the hearts of true friends. Though none of them knew much
about the ferryman and his family, yet for Lawry's sake they were
deeply interested in them.
After breakfast Mr. Sherwood went down to the ferry-house; and the
young pilot, with many tears and sobs, told him the whole of the sad
story of his father's crime. The rich man was full of sympathy, but
nothing could be done. He volunteered to be the culprit's bail, and
to provide him with the best counsel in the State. But John Wilford
was guilty, and nothing could wipe out this terrible truth.
Mr. Sherwood did all he had promised to do; but the ferryman, after
he had been examined and fully committed for trial, declined to
furnish bail, declaring that he did not wish to be seen at Port Rock
again. At the next session of the court, two months after his
committal, he pleaded guilty of the robbery and was sentenced to
three years' imprisonment in the penitentiary at Sing Sing.
After the sentence the prisoner was permitted to see his family for
the last time for many months. It was a sad and touching interview;
but from it Lawry and his mother derived much consolation. John
Wilford was penitent; he was truly sorry for what he had done, and
declared that, when he had served out his time, he would be a better
man than he had ever been before. It was comforting to the mother and
son to know that the wanderer was not hardened and debased by his
crime and the exposure; and they returned to their home submissive to
their lot, sad and dreary as it was.
From the day his father had been arrested, Lawry felt that the care
of the family devolved upon him. His older brother was away from
home, and was indolent and dissipated. The ferry and the little farm
must be cared for, as from them came the entire support of his mother
and his brothers and sisters. Though he was oppressed by the burden
of sorrow which his father's crime cast upon him, he did not yield to
despair.
Half a mile below the ferry-landing he could see the smokestack of
the _Woodville_ projecting above the water. She was his property;
and if she had seemed to be a prize to him before the calamity had
fallen upon his father's household, she was doubly so now. As he
crossed the ferry, he gazed up at the Goblins, with less of exultation,
but more of hope, than before. In his opinion, as he expressed it to his
mother, there was "money in her." Mrs. Wilford was in great tribulation
lest the man who now held the mortgage upon the little farm should
insist upon being paid, as there was now no hope that, the debtor, in
prison, would be able to do anything. Lawry told her that the steamboat
would enable them to pay all claims upon his father.
Mrs. Wilford had but little confidence in her son's schemes, but she
did not discourage them; and Lawry racked his brain for expedients to
accomplish the task he had imposed upon himself. He had no money, and
he was too proud to ask Mr. Sherwood for the assistance which that
gentleman would so gladly have rendered. Ethan French came down to
see him every day, and the prairie boy was so kind and considerate
that they soon became fast friends.
"When are you going to work on the steamer, Lawry?" asked Ethan. "I
suppose you don't feel much like meddling with her yet."
"I don't; but she ought to be raised as soon as possible," replied
Lawry. "I am going to work upon her right off. I went down to see how
she lies this morning, and I have got my plans all laid."
"Have you?"
"I have."
"Do you think you can get her up?"
"I know I can."
"Well, how are you going to do it?" inquired Ethan.
"Do you know Mr. Nelson, over at Pointville? I suppose you don't.
Well, he is a great oil man; he has got some oil-wells down on the
St. Johns River. He is getting together all the barrels and hogsheads
he can find, to send down to his works. He has as many as a hundred
at his place in Pointville. I'm going to borrow a lot of these casks,
if I can, and raise the _Woodville_ with them."
"How are you going to manage with them?" asked Ethan, deeply
interested in the plan.
"Sink them round the boat, and fasten them to her hull, till there
is enough to float her."
"But how are you going to sink them?"
"There's some one to go over the ferry," replied Lawry, as a blast
of the tin horn was heard. "If you will go over with me, I will tell
you all about it, and we will call and see Mr. Nelson while we are at
Pointville."
Ethan embarked with his friend, and when the boat started the
subject was resumed.