DOWN THE RIVER ON A COAL-BARGE.
Tony Richardson had never held five minutes conversation with a sailor,
he had never seen the ocean or a ship, and the inquiry will very
naturally arise: What could have put it into his head to go to sea? The
idea was suggested to him through the same hurtful influence that had
made a thief of Bob Owens, and sent him out into the world to make
himself famous as a hunter and Indian fighter. Perhaps you don't believe
that so simple a thing as reading a story could affect a boy's whole
life? If so, what do you think of the following, which recently appeared
in a Rochester paper? We have copied it just as it was printed, with
these exceptions: the names of the culprits have been changed, and
another substituted for that of the paper in which the story referred to
appeared:
"_BOYS' PAPERS AND INCENDIARISM._
"The speedy arrest of the 'fire-bugs,' who amused themselves two or
three evenings in this city by firing buildings, was highly
gratifying to our citizens, many of whom began to feel a little
nervous over the operations of the young rascals. We refer to them
and their work in this place because they afford another
illustration of the pernicious influence upon boyish minds of evil
literature. Damon, the elder of the two, is eighteen, and his
companion, Volbets, is twelve years old. The former, when captured,
had in his pocket two copies of the _Boys of the Nation_, one of
those abominable sheets filled with wild stories of crime and
adventure so fascinating to ill-disciplined minds, and he said that
he was inspired to his criminal work by reading the story of 'Rory
of the Hills; or, the Outlaws of Tipperary.' These boys had already
burned down a house on Orchard street and a stave factory, when
they were arrested, and they had planed to fire three more
Wednesday night, if the detectives had not spoiled their game."
That proves, beyond a doubt, that stories have an effect of some kind,
does it not? Tony Richardson had imbibed some very ridiculous ideas
through the same channel. The story that made the greatest impression
upon him was the "Phantom Cruiser," which he had read and re-read until
he knew it almost by heart. It described the adventures and exploits of
a boy who, after passing through all sorts of perils, such as
shipwrecks, and battles with pirates, was finally turned adrift by a
mutinous crew because he would not join his fortunes with theirs, and
blown upon an uninhabited island in mid ocean. There he accidentally
stumbled upon a bed of pearl oysters, of wonderful richness, and after
he had loaded himself down with the valuable gems, he escaped from the
island, and set out for home to reward his friends and excite the envy
of all his enemies. Tony's thoughts often wondered off to that island
when they ought to have been fixed on his books. They wandered off there
now, while he was walking toward the depot with his father, and he
hoped, and sometimes he believed, that his sailor life would have an
ending quite as romantic and glorious.
Unfortunately for Tony, the realities of life had no charm for him. He
was constantly building air-castles, and looking for something that
never came. He lived in a little world of his own creation, and he was
not happy unless he was wandering about that world, and mingling with
the impossible beings with which his lively imagination had peopled it.
Having decided to "make a break," Tony went further, and made up his
mind that he would do it without any unnecessary delay. He could not go
on the river without his father's consent, for almost all the steamboat
men who ran out of St. Louis were acquainted with him, and some of them
would be sure to tell Mr. Richardson that they had seen him. If he went
anywhere, he must go to sea. But just here a difficulty arose: How was
he going to make his way to New Orleans, which was the nearest port at
which he could ship on an ocean-going vessel? There were three ways open
to him. He could ask some steamboat captain to pass him, or he could
ship as deck hand, or he could pay his fare in the cabin. There were
objections to every one of these plans. If he asked for a pass, he would
be sure to get it, but he would have to answer a thousand and one
questions. Did his father say he might go to New Orleans? and, if so,
why didn't Tony take passage on one of his boats?
"That would never do," soliloquised the boy, who had thought all these
things over more than once. "When I leave here I want to disappear as
completely as though I had ceased to exist. If father should find out
that I had left for New Orleans, it would be just like him to telegraph
there and stop me. I can't work my way as deck hand, for I couldn't eat
and sleep with such a lot of men as they are. Besides I am not strong
enough to handle heavy freight, and some of those sharp-eyed mates would
certainly penetrate any disguise I might assume. If I pay my fare in the
cabin, I shall run the same risks I would run in asking for a pass.
'Tony,' some inquisitive clerk would say, 'what are you doing this for?
Why don't you go down on one of your father's boats, and then you could
go for nothing?' I wish I was not so well known. If I only had money
enough I would go by rail; but I have only enough to pay for my ticket,
and I ought to have a little left to buy an outfit when I reach New
Orleans. Dear me! I am always bothered about something."
But, after all, getting to New Orleans was not so great a task as Tony
thought it was. Unluckily for him events took a turn which made it very
easy for him to accomplish his object, and that, too, without his
father's knowledge.
The next day was Saturday, and consequently there was no school; but
Tony went to the city as usual--we have said that he spent all his
leisure hours on the levee--and taking leave of his father at the depot
made his way toward one of the wharf-boats. There he encountered a
well-known coal-dealer, Mr. Vandegriff by name, whose countenance
lighted up at the sight of him.
"Looking for a job?" said he, as he shook hands with Tony.
"Not to-day, I guess," was the laughing reply.
"But I am in earnest," said Mr. Vandegriff, as he and Tony walked over
the gang-plank to the wharf-boat. "Here's the Armada loading for New
Orleans, and she is in such a hurry to get off that she can't stop to
coal up; so I have had a barge made fast alongside of her, and she is
going to take it down the river with her and coal up while she is under
way. When she gets all she wants she will turn the barge adrift, and
when one of my tugs comes in, I'll send down after it."
"Well?" said Tony, who knew that there was nothing unusual in all this.
"Well, I want somebody to go with her and check the coal and take the
money," said Mr. Vandegriff.
"Where's Hardy?" asked Tony. "I thought he attended to all such business
for you."
"So he did, but he will never do it again. I gave him his walking-papers
last night. He is too imprudent to handle any of _my_ money. The Handy
Andy took a barge down the river yesterday to coal up while she was
under way, and as she had a small crew, I sent fourteen of my darkies
with her to help. The Handy Andy let the barge go about twenty miles
below here, and Hardy was alone on that barge with that gang of men for
more than four hours. When the tug came up to take her in tow, Hardy
said to the darkies: 'Have any of you boys got a life preserver about
you?' They told him they hadn't; and Hardy said: 'Then, if the tug blows
up before we reach the city, I shall have to use this to buoy me up till
I can swim ashore;' and as he spoke, he drew out of his pocket a roll of
bills containing about three hundred dollars, and put under his arm."
"What a dunce!" cried the boy.
"Wasn't he!" exclaimed Mr. Vandegriff. "He acted as though he had no
sense. The darkies opened their eyes when they saw the money, and one of
them said to him: 'Fore de Lawd, boss, if we'd knowed you had all dem
greenbacks in your good clothes, you'd never tuk 'em to de city wid
you;' and to tell the honest truth, I don't think he ever would. It
would have been no trouble at all for them to rob him; divide the money
among themselves; jump into the skiff that was towing at the stern of
the barge, and take to the woods. The worst of it is, that Hardy, by
that one fool act, has made it dangerous for anybody to go down the
river on a barge with a gang of men, unless he is prepared to defend
himself. Those negroes have always believed, that the boat knew how much
coal she wanted, and paid for it before leaving the city; and that the
clerk went down with her simply to see that she didn't take more than
she had paid for. But now their eyes are opened, and there are some
reckless ones among them who will hereafter be on the watch."
"And is that the job you want me to take?" asked Tony. "I think you had
better get somebody else."
"Bless your heart," said Mr. Vandegriff, "there's no danger in going
down with the Armada. If there was, I shouldn't think of asking you. She
has got her full crew; and I shall send only a couple of my best hands
with you to make the lines fast, when the tug finds the barge. They have
worked for me a long time; and I would rather trust them, than some
white men with whom I am acquainted. I know that money is no object to
you," he added, seeing that the boy still hesitated, "but I don't want
you to do it for nothing. I'll give you ten dollars."
Tony pricked up his ears when he heard this. If he could get a few more
such "jobs" at ten dollars a piece, it would not take him many Saturdays
to earn money enough to pay for his sailor's outfit, when he reached New
Orleans.
"Suppose I should get into a fight with these two darkies, and keep them
from robbing me and running off with your money?" said Tony.
"Then you can keep a hundred dollars out of it, and hand me the
balance," answered Mr. Vandegriff, who little imagined that the boy
would ever be in a situation to take advantage of this permission.
"You'll go, won't you? Speak quick, for she will be ready to start in a
few minutes; and I must sign a blank receipt for you to fill out, when
she has finished coaling. I haven't time to look for anybody else; and I
can't go myself."
"Yes," said Tony, "I'll go."
Mr. Vandegriff walked rapidly toward the office, and as he drew the
printed form of a receipt from his pocket-book, the Armada's bell rang.
He quickly signed the receipt and placed it in a small account-book
which he handed over to the boy, who ran out and sprang on board the
Armada.
"All ashore, Tony," shouted the captain, from his perch on the
hurricane-deck. "We are in a great hurry. Where in the world is that
clerk of yours, Vandegriff?"
The coal-dealer replied by pointing out Tony, who shook his account-book
at the captain. The latter nodded his head to signify that it was all
right, tapped the bell, and when the lines had been cast off and the
staging hauled in, the Armada backed out into the stream, taking the
coal-barge with her.
As soon as the forecastle had been cleared up, long planks were run down
into the barge, and the crew of the steamer, assisted by Mr.
Vandegriff's two negroes, began filling up the bunkers, Tony and one of
the clerks sitting on the guard and checking the boxes as fast as they
were brought on board. It was about nine o'clock when the Armada moved
away from the wharf-boat, and it was a little past three in the
afternoon when she cast off the lines and left the barge to the mercy of
the current, and Tony Richardson sitting on the forward-deck with more
than five hundred dollars in his pocket, and a look of excitement on his
face. It was a much larger amount of money than he had ever had in his
possession before.
"Don't I wish it was mine?" thought Tony, as he straightened out his leg
and passed his hand over the huge lump in his pocket. "I wouldn't see
St. Louis again for one while, I bet you."
Notwithstanding his great desire to free himself from the restraints of
home and school, and to enter upon the glorious career of which he had
so often dreamed, Tony had never once thought of stealing money enough
to enable him to carry out his plans. The idea had never once suggested
itself to him, and if it had, by any chance, came into his mind, it
would have frightened him. He would no more have taken a dollar of Mr.
Vandegriff's money to keep him in his runaway scheme, than he would
have jumped into the river and made way with himself.
"Now, I believe I will eat my lunch," continued Tony, "and I hope by the
time it is finished that tug will be along. What Mr. Vandegriff told me
about Hardy makes me just a trifle nervous. But didn't he say that these
men were all right? He certainly did, and so I have nothing to fear."
Tony squared around on the barge so that he could look up and down the
river without turning his body, and while disposing of the good things,
the steward of the Armada had put up for him, he kept a good lookout for
the tug whose appearance he awaited with no little impatience and
anxiety. Now and then he turned his eyes toward the two negroes, who
were seated on the after-deck engaged in very earnest conversation, but
he paid no particular attention to them until he saw them arise to their
feet, as if moved by a common impulse, and start toward the bow, walking
along the gunwales of the barge, one on each side. When the barge was
loaded to its full capacity, the top of these gunwales was not more than
two feet above the water; but as fast as the coal was taken out, the
unwieldy craft rose, and now, when the cargo was almost all removed,
the gunwales were six or seven feet high. Each end of the barge was
covered by a deck about eight feet long, and this was where the crew
stood when they were handling the lines.
This movement on the part of the negroes alarmed Tony, who dropped the
leg of the chicken he held in his hand, and sprang to his feet.
Something told him that it would never do to allow those men to come too
close to him.
"Say, you Mose and Sambo," he shouted, "what are you coming here for? Go
back where you belong."
"Want to ax you something, sah," replied one of the negroes--the one at
whom the boy had looked when he called out the name of "Sambo." He
hadn't got either one of the names right, but still the ones he had
given them will do to distinguish them by.
"Stop, right where you are," commanded Tony, who, frightened as he was,
managed to speak in a very firm and determined tone of voice. "I can
hear what you have to say."
"We's comin' right dar whar you is," said the one who had been called
Mose.
As he spoke, he drew a long knife from his pocket, and with a quick
movement, threw open the blade, which caught with a spring. Tony's
terror was greatly increased by the sight of the glittering steel. It
was plain that the men intended to rob him of Mr. Vandegriff's money,
but what they intended to do with him after they got it, was not so
clear to him. The sight of the knife and the expression on the face of
the man who carried it, suggested only the most dreadful things. He
looked anxiously up the river, but the tug was not in sight. He turned
his eyes in the other direction, but the stream was clear as far as he
could see. Beyond a point which jutted out from the left hand bank, a
huge black cloud of smoke arose in the air, pointing out the position of
the Armada, which was flying down the river with all the speed her
powerful engines could give her. There was nobody to whom he could look
for assistance; he was utterly alone. He had never before been placed in
a situation of danger, and when he thought of it afterward, he was
astonished at the manner in which he conducted himself, and the
promptness with which he acted.
"Does you see dis yere?" said Mose, holding up the knife so that the boy
could have a fair view of it. "Don't make no fursin' or yellin' now,
kase if you do, it'll be wuss for you!"
"I am in charge of this craft," said Tony, still speaking in a steady
voice, "and I tell you again, and for the last time, to go back to the
stern of the barge where you belong. If you don't, you'll hear something
drop."
The negroes, who were surprised at the boy's bold front, halted and
looked across the barge at each other. If Tony had at that moment placed
his hand in his hip-pocket, or made any other demonstrations to indicate
that he had a pistol about him, it is very probable that the men would
have obeyed his orders, and that he would have been saved from something
that afterwards happened; but Tony, being the hero of an adventure that
really occurred, and not an imaginary character, did not do this. He was
too badly frightened to think of it, and he did just what he ought not
to have done. Seeing that the men hesitated, he sought to gain an
increased advantage over them and frighten them still more by stooping
quickly and picking up two lumps of coal. This simple act reassured the
negroes, and Mose shouted across to his companion--
"Hi, Jeff! He ain't got nuffin to shoot wid. Frow dem chunks down, boy,
or it'll be wuss for you, if you don't pay some heed to what we're
tellin' you!"
The men again advanced along the gunwales, and Tony, knowing that if he
allowed them to gain a footing on the deck they would quickly overpower
him, suddenly drew back his right-hand and sent one of the lumps of coal
whizzing through the air, toward the man who carried the knife. He had
been catcher for the Monitor ball club for two seasons, and the members
were loud in their praises of the way he threw to the second base. He
threw that lump of coal with all the force he could put into his arm,
and it went as straight for that darkey's head, as a ball from his hands
ever went for the hands of the second basemen. It struck that head too,
and bounded from it as it would have bounded from a brick wall; but it
checked the advance.
Mose flourished his hands over his head, and after trying in vain to
keep his balance, he sprang into the air; at the same time turning his
body about half-way around and throwing out his arms, so that when he
came down, they caught across the gunwale; and there he hung over the
water.
Tony was not a little frightened at the effect of his shot. He thought
that the man was about to fall into the river; and if he had, he would
have stood a fair chance of drowning, before his companion could have
gone out in the skiff and picked him up. But even while these thoughts
were passing through Tony's mind, he began to wish that the lump of coal
had been larger and heavier, and that his arm had been stronger. Mose
was not in the least injured by the blow he had received, nor was he
cowed by his narrow escape from being knocked overboard. He still held
fast to the knife; and the eyes with which he glared at the boy over the
gunwale, were fairly ablaze with fury.
"What you doin' dar, Jeff?" he shouted, as he drew himself up, and threw
one foot over the side of the barge. "Can't you frow chunks just as
well, an' mebbe better'n he kin?"
These words seemed to arouse the other negro, who had halted and been on
the point of turning back, when he witnessed his companion's
discomfiture. He quickly jumped down into the barge; and Tony, who had
been indulging in the hope that he could hold the robbers at bay until
the tug hove in sight, lost all heart when he saw him begin to gather
up the coal. He looked about the deck and saw at a glance, that if the
negroes were going to adopt his own mode of fighting, it would be
impossible for him to defend his position. They would have a thousand
bushels of coal within their reach, while Tony had not more than a dozen
lumps, and some of these were too small to be of any service. Two of the
biggest of these lumps, Tony in his desperation put to a good use. With
one of them he knocked Jeff flat, just as he was preparing to rise to
his feet with an armful of coal; and with the other, he inflicted a
severe cut upon the hand of Mose, causing him to howl with rage and
pain, and to drop the threatening knife. By these two shots, Tony
unconsciously created evidence that was strong enough to send both the
rogues to jail as soon as they reached St. Louis.
Jeff was on his feet again in an instant, and clearing his eyes of the
blood which trickled into them from an ugly cut in his forehead, he
looked all around for Tony; but the latter had disappeared. The moment
the last lump of coal left his hand, he sprang across the narrow deck,
and seizing a rope that was made fast to the bitts, descended it hand
over hand, and dropped into a skiff that was towing alongside the
barge. To shove off, pick up the oars and put the skiff in rapid motion
was the work of scarcely a moment.
[Illustration: TONY'S ESCAPE FROM THE COAL BARGE]
"Hyar he is, Jeff," shouted Mose, who had at last succeeded in climbing
up and seating himself on the gunwale. "Knock him outen dat dar boat, if
he don't come back. Bus' de bottom in. Do something mighty lively, kase
we's gone niggahs if dat dar tug kotch us hyar!"
Jeff must have thought so too, for his movements were much quicker than
they had been before. He climbed out of the barge to the deck as quickly
as he could, and opened a hot fire upon Tony, who was pulling swiftly
away from the dangerous neighborhood; but although his missiles were
thrown with power sufficient to do damage if they had hit anything, they
all went wide of the mark, and by the time Jeff's companion could raise
himself to his feet and run along the gunwale to the deck, the boy was
safely out of range. Mose fired a few chunks at him, but they all fell
short, and then it seemed to dawn upon the negroes all at once that
their prize had slipped through their fingers; that they had opened the
doors of the penitentiary for their reception, and gained nothing by it.
It must have been some such thought as this that set them into the wild
war-dance that followed. They jumped about the deck, stamped their feet,
and whooped and swore at the top of their voices; and Mose shook his
knife at Tony, and made furious gestures with the weapon, just to show
what he would do if he only possessed the power.
"Well, boys," said Tony, as soon as he could make himself heard, "it
looks to me as though you were in for it. I've got this thing in my own
hands. You'll stay there until the tug comes, and I'll stay here."
"No, we won't stay hyar, nudder," shouted Mose, in reply. "We kin swim
to de shoah."
"You try it, if you dare. If I see one of you take to the water, I'll
knock him on the head with an oar."
Tony had not only brought himself safely out of a very dangerous
situation, but he had very neatly turned the tables upon those who had
intended to rob him, and he felt very jubilant over it. Well, it _was_
something to be proud of, and it was a great pity that he should go
deliberately to work and spoil it all by his foolishness.
"I have earned a hundred dollars by this day's work," said Tony, as he
wiped the big drops of perspiration from his forehead, "and as soon as
I get it safe in my hands, I shall bid a long farewell to St. Louis."
Tony uttered these last words very slowly, as if he were talking about
one thing and thinking about another. And so he was. Why should he
return to St. Louis at all? he asked himself. Before he left home that
morning, something had prompted him to put into his pocket the
twenty-five dollars he had saved to buy his sailor's outfit when he
reached New Orleans. Why not add to that at least a portion of the
amount which Mr. Vandegriff had told him he might retain if he got into
a fight with the negroes and came off first best? It is true that he had
no clothes except those he carried on his back, and he told himself that
he did not want any more. It would be a waste of time to go back to the
city after a supply, and he would run the risk of being seen by somebody
when he crept out of his father's house with a valise in his hand. There
was something about such a proceeding that did not suit Tony. He thought
it would make him look too much like a sneak-thief. Besides, he wanted
to forget his home entirely, and he could not do it so long as he was
wearing any of the clothes his father's money had purchased for him.
"It is now or never," said Tony, to himself "I can go down the river in
this skiff to Cairo, purchasing my supplies at farm-houses along the
way, and there I shall find some Cincinnati or Pittsburgh boat whose
officers will not question me, because they are not acquainted with me.
I don't feel just right about taking that money, but I have fairly
earned it--I wouldn't go through such a battle again for ten times one
hundred dollars--and Mr. Vandegriff said I might have it. Good-by!" he
shouted, waving his hand to the negroes, "I'll go and hurry up the tug."
As Tony said this, he pulled toward the Missouri shore, and when he had
got out of the current, he turned and rowed up the river. As long as he
remained in sight of the barge, he kept his eyes fastened upon the
negroes, expecting to see them take to the water and strike out for
shore; but as they did nothing of the kind, the boy finally came to the
conclusion that they could not swim. At last the current carried them
and their floating prison into the bend around which the Armada had
disappeared half an hour before, and when the barge was out of sight
behind the point, Tony ceased his efforts at the oars and began to look
about him.