CHAPTER XIIUNDER SUNNY SKIESIt was early one morning that the ship warped into her berth at New Orleans. The three friends were up bright and early, as they knew that the steamer would dock shortly after dawn, and they did not want to miss any of the excitement of the event. The big wharves were swarming with negro stevedores, who joked and sang good-naturedly as they shifted huge bales of cotton and boxes containing all manner of goods. Ships already at their docks, either loading or unloading, sent up puffs of steam as their cargo winches lifted huge nets full of barrels and boxes from the seemingly inexhaustible holds, or consigned them to the same place. Mule teams, horse teams, and big rumbling automobile trucks came and went, getting in each other’s way and giving rise to short but forceful arguments on the part of their drivers. In a word, all the varied bustle and activity of a large and busy port was spread out for the boys to view from their vantage point on the upper deck.On the dock for which they were heading, a group of negro laborers was waiting for the vessel to be made fast, and suddenly one of them started a spirited “buck and wing” dance, the others singing, whistling, and keeping time by clapping their hands. As the ship crept up to the dock at a snail’s pace, many of the passengers crowded over to the starboard side, where the boys were standing, and when the perspiring dancer finally ended with a double shuffle and a bow, he was rewarded by a shower of coins that rained down from the side of the ship which was now being warped up to the dock and made fast.“Some pep to that boy,” commented Fred. “You’d think they’d save their energy for the work ahead of them.”“Oh, a negro always has time and energy for a little fun, no matter how hard he has to work,” replied Lee. “I’ve seen them dancing and cutting up after a long day of cotton picking, and that’s about as hard work as I know anything about.”But there was no longer much time to spend on the deck, for now the gangplank had been shot out and the passengers were beginning to stream over it. This reminded the boys that they also had some strapping and bundling to do, and they rushed to their stateroom and got to work. In a few minutes all their packing had been done, and with warm good-bys to the officers and many of the passengers, with whom they had become favorites, they left the steamer.“Seems like an old friend, already,” commented Bobby, as they walked along the pier. “I don’t wonder that sailors fall in love with their ships.”“I suppose any place begins to seem like home after you’ve been there for a while,” replied Fred. “But as for me give me terra cotta every time.”“Terra firma I suppose you mean,” laughed Lee.“Let it go at that,” said Fred carelessly. “What’s one word more or less between friends?”A stalwart young negro was lying on a bale of cotton, basking like a cat in the hot sun. The leader of a gang of roustabouts came hurrying along looking for men.“Got a job for you, Sam,” he said. “This steamer’s got to be unloaded in a hurry. Come along now and I’ll put you in a gang.”“Nothin’ doin, boss,” replied the negro with a yawn.“Why, what’s the matter with you?” remonstrated his would be employer. “It was only yesterday you were striking me for a job.”“Ya-as,” replied the other, as he yawned and turned over for another nap, “but dat war yesterday. Ah made two bits dis mornin’, an now Ah got money in mah pocket. Go ’way, man, an’ let me sleep.”With a gesture of disgust the other hurried away to look for more likely material. The boys looked at each other and laughed.“You see from that what we’re up against down here,” said Lee. “That’s the way most of them are. As long as they have money enough for their next meal, they’re perfectly satisfied. That man with a few cents in his pockets is as happy as if he were a millionaire.”They had about two hours before it was time for their train to start, and as it was nearly noon, the first thing they did was to get a hearty meal. Then they spent a little while roaming about the beautiful and busy city, so different in many respects from what Bobby and Fred bad been accustomed to in the North. They were especially interested in viewing the spot where, behind cotton bales, Andrew Jackson and his men had held off the flower of the British Army and won the most notable victory of the war of 1812.“It was great,” said Bobby, as he looked at his watch. “But hurry up, fellows. We’ll have to get a hustle on, or we’ll miss the train.”But Lee did not seem especially alarmed.“I guess we’ll have time enough,” he said. “The train we’re going to take doesn’t bother much about timetables. Still there’s no use in taking chances.”His conjecture was correct, for although they got to the station on time, it was some time after the scheduled hour when the wheezy old engine pulled out of the depot. And after it got started it rambled on in a careless, happy-go-lucky way, as though it did not care much when it got to its destination.It was a mixed freight and passenger train. There were perhaps a dozen freight cars, with one passenger coach attached to the end of the train. It ran along a single track, which was little more than “two streaks of rust and a right of way.”Most of the stations at which the train stopped were small ones, but there were one or two of respectable size. When the train came to a halt at these, there were usually several negro women who walked along the side of the passenger car, offering their wares to the travelers. Their chief stock in trade was fried chicken, and this smelled so good that the boys bought repeatedly, until Fred at last declared that he’d be ashamed after that to look a chicken in the face.“You want to save room, fellows,” remonstrated Lee. “My mother will have a corking good supper waiting for us, and she’ll want to see you put it away.”“She needn’t worry a bit about that,” mumbled Fred, with his mouth full. “We may have our faults, but we never go back on grub. Just put us at the table and trust us to do the rest.”Both Bobby and Fred were impressed by the leisurely way in which life seemed to flow on in the various places through which they passed. Even the soft haze in the atmosphere was suggestive of rest and quiet. In the little towns, dogs lay in the dust in the middle of the road, not at all disturbed by the fear of being run over. Merchants in their shirt sleeves sat in front of their stores, with chairs tilted back, exchanging gossip with farmers, who had come in with their produce and were in no hurry to get back. Even the people coming toward the station to take the train sauntered along with no fear of being left. Some of them stopped to chat with the engineer, who leaned against the side of his cab, chewing a straw and showing in every movement that time was the last thing in the world that could bother him. Then after a while he would get up in his seat, and the train would begin to move, with much wheezing and creaking, as though disgruntled at being disturbed.“Any mattresses on the train?” queried Fred, as he looked around him. “Looks as if we’d spend the night here, at the rate we’re going.”“Not quite so bad as that,” laughed Lee, “though I don’t wonder that you think so. But we’ve only two more stations now before we come to Raneleigh. That’s the nearest station to the plantation.”“Do we have far to walk to get to your place?” asked Fred, as he viewed their collection of suit cases rather apprehensively.“Oh, we’re about six miles from the station,” rejoined Lee carelessly.“Six miles,” gasped Fred. “Scubbity-yow! And on a hot day like this. I can see where I melt into a grease spot.”“Hold your horses,” said Lee. “You won’t have to walk a step. One of the men will be at the station with a buckboard and a pair of mules. Ever ridden in a buckboard?”“Yes,” replied Fred, “many a time out on the ranch. But I’ve never ridden behind mules. Do they step fast?”“Not that you could notice,” grinned Lee. “Their strong point is in standing fast. Once in a while we have to build a fire under one of them to get it to budge. You’ll know a good sight more about mules than you do now when you go back to school.”“School!” groaned Fred. “What’s the use of spoiling a perfectly good day by talking about school. We’ll have to go back soon enough. Let’s forget it while we’re here.”In less than an hour they were approaching Raneleigh, and Bobby and Fred craned their necks in order to get a glimpse of the town. All they saw however as the train lumbered up to the platform was a general store, that stood opposite the station, and three or four dwellings located irregularly along a dusty street.“As a matter of fact it isn’t a town at all, only a station,” explained Lee, as he led the way out on the platform. “Ah, there’s Jim!” he exclaimed, as a rather decrepit old negro came hobbling up to meet them. “How are you, Jim?”“Tol’able, jess tol’able, Marse Lee,” replied Jim. “Ah sho’ am glad to see you-all.”“These are my friends, Bobby Blake and Fred Martin,” said Lee, as he piled the bags in the back of the buckboard. “They’ve come down to stay awhile with me on the plantation.”The old man took off his tattered hat and made a sweeping bow.“I’se proud to meet de young gem’lum,” he said. “Missus tole me dey waz a comin’. We sho’ will try ter give dem er mighty good time.”
It was early one morning that the ship warped into her berth at New Orleans. The three friends were up bright and early, as they knew that the steamer would dock shortly after dawn, and they did not want to miss any of the excitement of the event. The big wharves were swarming with negro stevedores, who joked and sang good-naturedly as they shifted huge bales of cotton and boxes containing all manner of goods. Ships already at their docks, either loading or unloading, sent up puffs of steam as their cargo winches lifted huge nets full of barrels and boxes from the seemingly inexhaustible holds, or consigned them to the same place. Mule teams, horse teams, and big rumbling automobile trucks came and went, getting in each other’s way and giving rise to short but forceful arguments on the part of their drivers. In a word, all the varied bustle and activity of a large and busy port was spread out for the boys to view from their vantage point on the upper deck.
On the dock for which they were heading, a group of negro laborers was waiting for the vessel to be made fast, and suddenly one of them started a spirited “buck and wing” dance, the others singing, whistling, and keeping time by clapping their hands. As the ship crept up to the dock at a snail’s pace, many of the passengers crowded over to the starboard side, where the boys were standing, and when the perspiring dancer finally ended with a double shuffle and a bow, he was rewarded by a shower of coins that rained down from the side of the ship which was now being warped up to the dock and made fast.
“Some pep to that boy,” commented Fred. “You’d think they’d save their energy for the work ahead of them.”
“Oh, a negro always has time and energy for a little fun, no matter how hard he has to work,” replied Lee. “I’ve seen them dancing and cutting up after a long day of cotton picking, and that’s about as hard work as I know anything about.”
But there was no longer much time to spend on the deck, for now the gangplank had been shot out and the passengers were beginning to stream over it. This reminded the boys that they also had some strapping and bundling to do, and they rushed to their stateroom and got to work. In a few minutes all their packing had been done, and with warm good-bys to the officers and many of the passengers, with whom they had become favorites, they left the steamer.
“Seems like an old friend, already,” commented Bobby, as they walked along the pier. “I don’t wonder that sailors fall in love with their ships.”
“I suppose any place begins to seem like home after you’ve been there for a while,” replied Fred. “But as for me give me terra cotta every time.”
“Terra firma I suppose you mean,” laughed Lee.
“Let it go at that,” said Fred carelessly. “What’s one word more or less between friends?”
A stalwart young negro was lying on a bale of cotton, basking like a cat in the hot sun. The leader of a gang of roustabouts came hurrying along looking for men.
“Got a job for you, Sam,” he said. “This steamer’s got to be unloaded in a hurry. Come along now and I’ll put you in a gang.”
“Nothin’ doin, boss,” replied the negro with a yawn.
“Why, what’s the matter with you?” remonstrated his would be employer. “It was only yesterday you were striking me for a job.”
“Ya-as,” replied the other, as he yawned and turned over for another nap, “but dat war yesterday. Ah made two bits dis mornin’, an now Ah got money in mah pocket. Go ’way, man, an’ let me sleep.”
With a gesture of disgust the other hurried away to look for more likely material. The boys looked at each other and laughed.
“You see from that what we’re up against down here,” said Lee. “That’s the way most of them are. As long as they have money enough for their next meal, they’re perfectly satisfied. That man with a few cents in his pockets is as happy as if he were a millionaire.”
They had about two hours before it was time for their train to start, and as it was nearly noon, the first thing they did was to get a hearty meal. Then they spent a little while roaming about the beautiful and busy city, so different in many respects from what Bobby and Fred bad been accustomed to in the North. They were especially interested in viewing the spot where, behind cotton bales, Andrew Jackson and his men had held off the flower of the British Army and won the most notable victory of the war of 1812.
“It was great,” said Bobby, as he looked at his watch. “But hurry up, fellows. We’ll have to get a hustle on, or we’ll miss the train.”
But Lee did not seem especially alarmed.
“I guess we’ll have time enough,” he said. “The train we’re going to take doesn’t bother much about timetables. Still there’s no use in taking chances.”
His conjecture was correct, for although they got to the station on time, it was some time after the scheduled hour when the wheezy old engine pulled out of the depot. And after it got started it rambled on in a careless, happy-go-lucky way, as though it did not care much when it got to its destination.
It was a mixed freight and passenger train. There were perhaps a dozen freight cars, with one passenger coach attached to the end of the train. It ran along a single track, which was little more than “two streaks of rust and a right of way.”
Most of the stations at which the train stopped were small ones, but there were one or two of respectable size. When the train came to a halt at these, there were usually several negro women who walked along the side of the passenger car, offering their wares to the travelers. Their chief stock in trade was fried chicken, and this smelled so good that the boys bought repeatedly, until Fred at last declared that he’d be ashamed after that to look a chicken in the face.
“You want to save room, fellows,” remonstrated Lee. “My mother will have a corking good supper waiting for us, and she’ll want to see you put it away.”
“She needn’t worry a bit about that,” mumbled Fred, with his mouth full. “We may have our faults, but we never go back on grub. Just put us at the table and trust us to do the rest.”
Both Bobby and Fred were impressed by the leisurely way in which life seemed to flow on in the various places through which they passed. Even the soft haze in the atmosphere was suggestive of rest and quiet. In the little towns, dogs lay in the dust in the middle of the road, not at all disturbed by the fear of being run over. Merchants in their shirt sleeves sat in front of their stores, with chairs tilted back, exchanging gossip with farmers, who had come in with their produce and were in no hurry to get back. Even the people coming toward the station to take the train sauntered along with no fear of being left. Some of them stopped to chat with the engineer, who leaned against the side of his cab, chewing a straw and showing in every movement that time was the last thing in the world that could bother him. Then after a while he would get up in his seat, and the train would begin to move, with much wheezing and creaking, as though disgruntled at being disturbed.
“Any mattresses on the train?” queried Fred, as he looked around him. “Looks as if we’d spend the night here, at the rate we’re going.”
“Not quite so bad as that,” laughed Lee, “though I don’t wonder that you think so. But we’ve only two more stations now before we come to Raneleigh. That’s the nearest station to the plantation.”
“Do we have far to walk to get to your place?” asked Fred, as he viewed their collection of suit cases rather apprehensively.
“Oh, we’re about six miles from the station,” rejoined Lee carelessly.
“Six miles,” gasped Fred. “Scubbity-yow! And on a hot day like this. I can see where I melt into a grease spot.”
“Hold your horses,” said Lee. “You won’t have to walk a step. One of the men will be at the station with a buckboard and a pair of mules. Ever ridden in a buckboard?”
“Yes,” replied Fred, “many a time out on the ranch. But I’ve never ridden behind mules. Do they step fast?”
“Not that you could notice,” grinned Lee. “Their strong point is in standing fast. Once in a while we have to build a fire under one of them to get it to budge. You’ll know a good sight more about mules than you do now when you go back to school.”
“School!” groaned Fred. “What’s the use of spoiling a perfectly good day by talking about school. We’ll have to go back soon enough. Let’s forget it while we’re here.”
In less than an hour they were approaching Raneleigh, and Bobby and Fred craned their necks in order to get a glimpse of the town. All they saw however as the train lumbered up to the platform was a general store, that stood opposite the station, and three or four dwellings located irregularly along a dusty street.
“As a matter of fact it isn’t a town at all, only a station,” explained Lee, as he led the way out on the platform. “Ah, there’s Jim!” he exclaimed, as a rather decrepit old negro came hobbling up to meet them. “How are you, Jim?”
“Tol’able, jess tol’able, Marse Lee,” replied Jim. “Ah sho’ am glad to see you-all.”
“These are my friends, Bobby Blake and Fred Martin,” said Lee, as he piled the bags in the back of the buckboard. “They’ve come down to stay awhile with me on the plantation.”
The old man took off his tattered hat and made a sweeping bow.
“I’se proud to meet de young gem’lum,” he said. “Missus tole me dey waz a comin’. We sho’ will try ter give dem er mighty good time.”