CHAPTER XXIV.
BEN WALKS THE PLANK.
Daylight found the Argenta at Cairo, where a few thousand more grain sacks were taken on board and the dead man disposed of. At Cairo the vessel also received quite a consignment of tramps, bound South. Tramps coming in off of the great Harvest Range, and tramps from Chicago and the cities by the Lakes. It was preposterous to suppose, for a moment, that the regiment of them now on the steamer could be overlooked by the clerk, or manage to stow out of sight where he could not find them. Still they came, thinking that go so little a distance as they might before being "bounced," it was nevertheless a step in the right direction.
Scarce had the Argenta left Cairo, and before the new travellers had time to familiarize themselves with their surroundings, when the clerk came down on deck and prepared for business. After running everybody back aft, the deck-hands and roustabouts formed a cordon across the boat, between the battery of boilers and the pile of grain sacks, others going to the stern and driving the deck passengers through a gap in the line where the clerk was ready to receive them. When the passengers reached this gap the clerk examined their tickets, or collected the fare where no tickets were produced. When neither tickets nor money were forthcoming, the impecunious were placed in a little group by themselves, under the surveillance of some of the crew. Nothing harsh or unkind was said to them. Indeed their presence there was expected and looked for. Every trip the boat made there were delegations of them on board.
At last the inspection ended. The passengers who had proved themselves all right were allowed to go whithersoever they pleased, and the "bums" were marshalled in a group up forward around the capstan, strictly guarded, and the boat's head turned for Columbus, on the Kentucky shore. Strange to relate, neither of our friends were among either party—the paid or unpaid.
Tommy, with sleeves rolled up and a gunny sack apron on, was washing dishes in the cook's galley, in peace, and security, and—soap suds. How he had accomplished this strategic movement or ingratiated himself into the esteem of the head cook we do not know—but there the boy was. Ben, on the other hand, was not so pleasantly located. His person was concealed beneath a pile of petticoats! The fact was two of the females in the rear were sitting on our friend's body. During the morning, Ben had struck up quite a friendship with an honest Celt in patched corduroys and hickory shirt. In their conversation it was discovered that the latter had worked an entire summer for Mr. Algernon Smythe, at his Swiss chatelet, away back on the sunny banks of Long Island Sound, when that gentleman was first beautifying his grounds. Ben adroitly mentioned that he knew Mr. Smythe, having worked for that gentleman, himself. A long overhauling of old times ensued, and a bond of friendship was established. Our friend informed his new acquaintance that it was an absolute necessity for him to be in New Orleans on the second to meet parties with whom he expected steady employment. Having met with misfortunes he confessed that he was beating his way, for which his new found friend admired him the more. Now it so happened that this new acquaintance had established friendly relations with two of his country-women, deck passengers also. Two sisters they were, on their way south to meet their husbands, and keep camp for them on the levee, while the men worked out a sub-contract. These ladies being introduced to Ben, and hearing his story, and their sympathies being enlisted—Ben's personal appearance speaking loudly in his favor—they kindly offered, at the suggestion of their gentleman friend, to sit upon him during the clerk's raid on deck. And sit upon him they did with perfect success; not being required to go forward with the other passengers, but sending their tickets to the clerk by a deputy. So it happened that when the Argenta ran her great round nose up to the bank at Columbus, and the gang of captured "bums" were put on shore,—the gun boat visitor among them, loudly protesting that she was "A high old gal, you bet!" our friend did not bear them company.
Whether it was the innate modesty peculiar to the sex, or whether it was that they thought all danger over, we know not. But this we do know, that Ben becoming somewhat restive under his burden, the younger of the two remarked to her sister, with a blush and a giggle, that she thought he might safely be let up. The elder being comfortably seated, and finding Ben's person a sort of spring cushion was not disposed to move. But our hero giving another twist to his cramped person caused the youngest one to bound up with a low cry, followed by another blush, and Ben emerged to thank the ladies for their kindness. Unhappily, for him, the mud-clerk at that moment came aft. He had about passed Ben when some fatality caused him to turn upon Cleveland and ask him to show his ticket. Ben tried to enter into an explanation; searched his pockets industriously, and at last, as the clerk became impatient, appealed to his generosity and philanthropy, requesting to be allowed to quietly remain and continue his ride. For an answer the clerk hailed a deck hand and our hero was unceremoniously marched to the bow. The stage had been taken on board and hoisted, and the Argenta was withdrawing her nose from the bank when the mate cried to the pilot "Go slow, a moment!"
"Now, young man, be quick, or you'll go into the river!" This exordium had reference to a stage-plank, (a plank about eighteen inches wide) that, at the mate's direction was stuck out from the guards and weighted on the boat end by four roustabouts—the other end being in the air. Ben was to run out on this plank and jump on shore. He had need to be quick, for with the impetus already received the boat was fast drifting out in the stream and widening the space between herself and the land. With another sharp order to "Git! and git quick!" he ran out on the plank.
Whether it happened by accident or from an inherent love of mischief, hereditary in a direct line from their Darwinian ancestry, we know not, but just then two of the roustabouts altered and fashioned Ben's entire life by teetering each other off of the plank just as our friend was about to spring to the shore from the end of it. The heels of the two other make-weights went into the air while their heads struck the deck with a resonant thump. But Ben! He was gurgling and spluttering in the river, with the stage-plank held in a close embrace.
"Man overboard!" was the cry that brought all of the cabin passengers who were loitering on their deck near the gangway, to the front; among them Captain Sparbar. The mate would probably have allowed Ben to get ashore or go to the bottom, as best he might, but the plank was boat property and worth saving. That worthy, undoubtedly, viewed it as unfortunate that in regaining one he was compelled to save the other, but as Ben hung tenaciously to the plank, both he and it were drawn on board by means of a rope. And there he stood—as wet as the river itself—the very picture of misery.
"Throw the hound on shore!" cried the captain, impatient at the delay. The captain had been both mate and mud-clerk in his day, himself.
"All right, sir!" responded the mate; and then to the man in the pilot-house: "Hold her nose to the bank a minute, Mr. Hawkins!"
But at this moment a soft female voice was heard saying:
"Oh, don't, captain. See, the poor fellow is nearly drowned. Now as a favor to me, let him remain."
The captain was about to politely protest, when the sweet voice silenced him, and the next moment he called to the mate:
"Let the fellow remain, Mr. Blassfeme!"
Then the bells jingled back by the engineers, and the great boat sprang out into the stream.
Poor Ben, dripping with water, turned his eyes gratefully to the deck above, and there stood the owner of the great, glorious, grey eyes, and by her side stood Blackoat, the captain, and a group of admirers. One glance she gave our hero, and a smile; but the glance bore no recognition, and the smile was for his comical aspect. They were such notices as she might have bestowed upon a persecuted animal, rescued from the hands of its tormentors.
"Shan't I go down and bring your new friend up and give him an introduction, Bertha? He has been washed now, you know," said Blackoat, with a sneer.
"Thank you, Arthur," she replied; "you may thank good fortune that it was not yourself that needed a good word with Captain Sparbar."
"Why, Miss Bertha?" inquired the captain.
"I think I should have let him go on the bank, sir!" and with a ringing laugh, in which all joined but Arthur, she disappeared from Ben's vision.
For a few moments Cleveland stood gazing vacantly at the railing of the upper deck. He half wished that they had left him in the river. Why, he could not reason, but he felt that a greater barrier than ever was now insurmountably raised between the idol of his dreams and himself. Back he went to the battery of boilers, and with many a joke from the dusky fireman dried himself quickly in the hot blast from the fire-doors. This done he sought out Tommy, who having been engaged in scouring dishes in the cook's galley was unaware of what had transpired in front.
After relating his late adventures he said:
"Tommy, do you know who is on board of the boat?"
"There are a great many people on board of her," cautiously replied Tommy.
"But do you know of anyfriendsofours?"
"No, I know of nofriendsofours," replied the boy sullenly.
"The man that struck you in the street that evening in New Jersey City is here," said Ben.
"Well?" answered Tom, not at all surprised at the information.
"And—the young lady who was there with him, is here also."
"Very well. What of it?" asked the lad, vigorously polishing a plate.
"You knew it?" cried Ben in astonishment.
"To be sure," coolly replied Tommy. "That is whyIam here."
"Tommy," he continued, after a pause in which he had earnestly examined the face of his companion; "Tommy, will you answer me a question?"
"That depends on what the question is," cautiously replied the other. "What is it you want to know?"
"Are you following this party?"
"See here, Ben, the cook lost his wood-sawyer at that last landing. He was bounced along with the rest of the bums. You are in rare good luck, and have secured a passage clear through to New Orleans. All you want is to make yourself solid on the chuck question. Go speak to the cook right off before any fellow gets ahead of you, and tell him you want to saw wood for your grub this trip. It's a splendid chance!" and Tommy shoved Ben toward the galley.
"But Tom, answer my question first; are you following this party?" persisted our hero, his inquisitiveness proof against the allurements of the wood-pile.
Tommy was about to leave him, but changed his mind.
"Ben," he said, "if I answer that question, will you promise never to ask me another concerning them or me so long as we are together?"
"Yes."
"Never; no matter what happens?"
"I'll ask you no more, Tom, for I know it does not concern me; but tell me truly, are you following them?"
"To the death!" and the boy's hands clenched and his hazel eyes glittered as he hissed the words. There was such a concentrated hatred and bitterness in the utterance that Ben started back and eyed him aghast.
"There; now you know something that doesnotconcern you. I hope you are satisfied. Furthermore the meeting in New Jersey City was no accident. I followed them and ran against that—that man with my hat down, to learn when and where they were going. Remember your promise, Ben. Don't trifle with me. Don't break it. For I like you Bennie—I—I love you. I do indeed, and I don't want to fall out with you." Saying which, in a voice and manner that had softened to the tenderness of a girl's, Tom ran into the galley and resumed the polishing of plates.
Puzzled by the mystery surrounding his little friend, Ben still remembered his suggestion, and on applying to the head cook was duly installed as Lord of the Buck-Saw to his sable Majesty.
Verily hath his lines fallen in pleasant places. A rescue from the river, his ride to New Orleans secured, and here, to cap the climax of his good fortune, here he was living on the fat of the Argenta's larder, and only exercise enough to give him an appetite. New Orleans and the twenty thousand dollars appeared already within his grasp.
Two days glided by in peace and plenty. The duties of his new office were neither irksome nor confining. An hour or so's industrial manipulation of the buck-saw provided wood enough to last the cook all day. In return for this service, he was called into the galley and filled to repletion after the other members of the cook's family were through. He was the envy of all the "bums" and deck passengers, passing as a bloated office-holder among them. One serious and matter of fact "dead broke" to whom Ben surreptitiously carried biscuits from the galley earnestly advised him not to do too much at a time, but let each day provide for itself, so that in case the boat blew up or sunk he would not be a loser. Indeed Ben grafted happy moments on the lives of many poor devils by secreting victuals about his person while in the galley and distributing them among the more starved of the free-riders. There were still a goodly number on board and every raid of the clerk landed three or four. Where they managed to stow themselves so as to escape observation was a mystery to him.