Phil escapes from Glynn.Page 40.
Phil escapes from Glynn.Page 40.
No one was near me, and I was satisfied that Glynn had abandoned the chase. I put on my coat, and walked leisurely in the direction which I thought would lead me to the river. I was vexed and discouraged at the loss of my money. My first mishap gave me some experience of the disadvantages of civilization, for in the field and forest from which I had come, we had no gamblers, or thieves, except the Indians. It would be a very pretty story to tell Mr. Gracewood, that I had not been smart enough to take care of myself, in spite of my boast to that effect, and that I had lost all my money, except a little change in silver, which I carried in my vest pocket. It was exceedingly awkward and annoying, and I was almost ashamed to meet my excellent friend.
I continued to walk, keeping the houses of the town on my left, expecting soon to see the river. But it seemed to me that the longer I walked, the more I did not see it, and the less became the probability that I should see it. In a word, Icould not find any river, and I concluded that I was journeying away from it, instead of towards it. The houses on my left diminished in number, and I saw that all the lights were behind me. I thought that, by this time, Glynn had given up the chase, and was probably busy in attending to the wants of the gamblers in Redwood's den. Turning to the left, I walked towards the centre of the town, and soon struck a broad street, which had been laid out, and on which an occasional house had been erected.
This course brought me to the middle of the place, and in front of the hotel. I ventured to inquire the way to the river. Taking the direction pointed out to me, I reached the landing-place without further difficulty. I found the place where the steamers stopped, but there was no boat to be seen. I visited every point above and below the landing; I inquired in shops and offices, and of everybody I met; but I could not discover the steamer's boat, and no one had seen it or heard of it. It was very strange, and I was perplexed, but not alarmed. A trip of seven miles in a boat, even in the evening, was not a very perilous undertaking,and I was not willing to believe that any accident had happened to my friends.
I had seen a clock in one of the stores where I had called, and I knew it was half past eight. The boat must have arrived at least an hour before, if it had come at all; but I had almost reached the conclusion that my friends had abandoned the excursion. But if they had come, Mr. Gracewood would go to the prayer-meeting, expecting to find me there, and I went in search of such a gathering.
IN WHICH PHIL ENDEAVORS TO REMEDY HIS FIRST MISHAP.
Iwent up to the centre of the town, where I had seen a church; but it was closed, and all its windows were dark. I inquired for the other churches, and visited the rest of them; but I could find no prayer-meeting. Those whom I asked had not heard of any meetings. By this time I concluded that I was an idiot to believe that the prayer-meeting was anything but a ruse on the part of Mr. Leonidas Lynchpinne, otherwise Lynch, which was probably his true name, and which he had doubtless extended for my especial benefit.
I was disgusted, and heartily wished I had not left the steamer. I made up my mind that it was not safe to trust any stranger, even if he said he was in the habit of attending prayer-meetings;but I ought to add that I have always found it safe to trust those who really attend them, and really take an interest in them. I had been duped, deceived, robbed. I wanted my money back, and I was quite as anxious to see Lynch as I was Mr. Gracewood.
I walked up to the hotel, and looked at every body I saw in the public rooms, hoping that my fellow-passenger had concluded to pay a dollar for his lodging, instead of fifty cents at the gambling den, which I thought he now could afford to do, with his funds replenished with the contents of my shot-bag. He was not there, and I went over towards the house where I had been robbed. I approached the locality very cautiously, for I was not anxious to confront the burly Glynn.
I examined the building at a respectful distance, and tried to fix the location of the attic chamber where Lynch had plundered me; but I had twisted about so many times in the long entries that I was unable to do so. Occasionally a man, or a party of men, went up the steps, and I supposed them to be the lodgers in the house. I watched those who went in and those who came out, in the hope that I might see Lynch. I didnot see him, and perhaps it was just as well for me that I did not, for, as I felt then, I should certainly have "pitched into him."
I could not do anything to help myself. I was tempted to arm myself with a club and go into the lodging-house in search of the rascal who had robbed me; but this would have been very imprudent. It was possible that Lynch was still in the house, and that he would occupy the room in the attic. I could not help thinking that Redwood was his confederate, and that my money would be shared between them. They seemed to understand each other perfectly, and I recalled the remark of my companion, incomprehensible to me when it was uttered, that I was "a dove with the yellows." A dove is the emblem of innocence, and the yellows I took to be a metaphor, based upon the color of the pieces in my shot-bag.
It was clearly more prudent for me to wait till the next morning before I attempted to do anything; and, having satisfied myself of the correctness of my conclusion, I decided to wait, with what patience I could, for the assistance of my friends the next day. The night was advancing, and I had no place to sleep. I had not moneyenough left to pay even for a cheap lodging; and it was rather cool to camp on the ground without a blanket. But I had a berth on board of the steamer, if I could find my way back to her. I was not so tired that I could not walk four miles.
I started for the wood-yard, and, with less difficulty than I expected, I found the road over the prairie. As I trudged along in the darkness, I thought of all the events of the evening. It was a pity that the world contained any such rascals as "Mr. Leonidas Lynchpinne;" but I was confident that the next time I met one of his class I should be a match for him, and would not even go to a prayer-meeting with him. It was possible that this worthy had returned to the steamer, relying upon Redwood to retain me till after the steamer had left the town; but I did not depend much upon finding him in his state-room.
Reaching the wood-yard, I went on board of the steamer. Though it was nearly midnight, the gamblers on board were still plying their infamous vocation. I went to the table, and satisfied myself that Lynch was not among them. I visited the state-room which Mr. Gracewood had occupied with me since we left Council Bluffs, where thenumber of passengers increased so that I could no longer have a room to myself. He was not there; and there was no light in the room occupied by his wife and daughter. I was not willing to believe they had left the boat till I obtained this evidence.
The bar of the steamer was still open, for wherever the gamblers were whiskey was in demand. I asked the bar-keeper where the captain was, and learned that he had retired; but the clerk was still up, and I soon found him, for I wished to ascertain where Lynch's room was.
"Well, Phil, you are up late," said the clerk, as I walked up to him; and in the long trip I had become well acquainted with him.
"I have been down to Leavenworth," I replied.
"Why did you come back? We shall be there early in the morning."
"I had to come back. Do you take the names of all the passengers?"
"Yes; we have to put all the names on the berth list."
"Is there one by the name of Leonidas Lynchpinne?" I asked.
"Certainly not," he replied, laughing.
"Or any name like it?"
"I will look, if you wish."
"Do, if you please, and I will tell you why I ask."
We went to the office, and he examined his list.
"Lyndon Lynch—"
"That's the man," I interposed. "Lynch. Which is his room?"
"No. 24."
"I should like to know whether he is in it, or not," I added.
"He came on board at St. Joe," said the clerk, as we walked to No. 24.
Lynch was not there, and the other occupant of the room was playing cards at the table. I sat down with the clerk, and related to him all the events of the evening. Occasionally he smiled, and even laughed when I spoke of going to a prayer-meeting. I felt cheap to think I had been duped so easily, and was a subject for the merriment of the clerk.
"You will never see your money again, Phil," said he, when I had concluded.
"Why not? Don't they have any law in these civilized regions."
"You can have all the law you want when you find your man. This Lynch is probably one of these blacklegs. They are miserable scoundrels, who float about everywhere."
"But the man who kept the lodging-house was in league with him."
"Very likely; but it don't appear from your story that he had anything to do with the robbery. Your own evidence would acquit him."
I did not derive much comfort from the clerk's remarks, though I could not help acknowledging the truth of what he said. However, the loss of a hundred dollars would not ruin me, uncomfortable and inconvenient as it was. I could draw upon Mr. Gracewood, who had fifteen hundred dollars of my funds in his possession. But I intended to make an effort the next day, while the boat lay at Leavenworth, to find Lynch, and have him lynched, if possible.
"But why did you come back, Phil?" continued the clerk. "Mr. Gracewood and his family went down in the boat."
"I couldn't find them, or the boat. I was almost sure they had not started."
"They went."
"It's very strange I could not find the boat. I inquired of twenty persons, and no one had seen or heard of it. Do you suppose anything could have happened to them?"
"It is not probable, though of course it is possible. The current of the river is very swift, and the shores are rocky. But they had two of our deck hands with them, and I should say that any accident was next to impossible."
I was of his opinion, though I could not help worrying about them. I went to my room and retired. I was very weary; but, though disposed to consider still further the events of the evening, I fell asleep in spite of myself. When I awoke the next morning, the boat was lying at the landing in Leavenworth. It was only a little after sunrise, but the hands were busy loading and discharging freight. I hastily dressed myself, wondering how I could have slept so long; but I had walked not less than fifteen miles the preceding evening, and perhaps it was more strange that I waked so early.
"Have you found the boat, captain?" I asked, with breathless interest, as I hastened to themain deck, where I found the master of the steamer.
"No, Phil; and I am a good deal worried about your friends," he replied.
"Why, where are they?"
"I have no idea; but I have been up and down the levee from one end of the town to the other, and I can't find the boat. I don't understand it."
"I could not find it last night. I asked twenty persons, but no one had seen such a party as I described," I added.
"Do you know the name of the person they intended to visit?"
"I do not. I may have heard it, but I don't remember anything about it."
"The boat will not start before noon, and we may hear of them before that time," said the captain.
"Did you look along the shore as you came down?" I asked.
"Not particularly; but if they had been on the shore the pilot would have seen them. The clerk told me you lost your money last night, Phil."
"Yes, sir;" and I repeated my story to him.
"We will take an officer and visit the house," added the captain.
"The sooner we go, the more likely we shall be to find Lynch," I suggested.
"We will go at once, then."
Captain Davis and I landed, and walked up to the hotel. An officer was procured, and I led the way to the lodging-house. We entered without announcing our visit, and proceeded to the office, as Glynn had called the room in front of the gambling den.
"So you have come back, youngster," said the burly assistant.
"Where is the man that calls himself Lynch?" demanded the officer.
"No such man here," replied Glynn. "Don't know him."
"I suppose not," said the officer, ironically. "What room did you take with him, young man?" he added, turning to me.
"I don't know the number, but I can lead you to it."
"What's the matter?" asked Glynn, innocently.
"This young man was robbed in your house last night."
"Was he really, though?" added the assistant.
"You know that he was."
"He told me he was, but I didn't believe it. The youngster went to a room with a man, and I heard some one breaking down doors. I caught this youngster up there alone. But if he was robbed, that's another thing," continued Glynn, who seemed to have a very proper and wholesome respect for the officer. "I will go up to that room, and see if Lynch is there."
"You needn't trouble yourself," said the prudent official. "I will go myself."
"I'll go up and show you the way."
"Where is Redwood?"
"Not up yet. I will call him."
"No; I will call him myself when I want him."
Glynn led the way up to the attic, and I was tolerably confident, from his manner, that we should find Lynch in the room. We found the door locked, in spite of the damage I had done to it.
IN WHICH PHIL VAINLY SEARCHES FOR THE GRACEWOODS.
"Of course you know whether the man we are looking for is in this room or not, Glynn," said the officer, when he found that the door was locked.
"'Pon my word I do not," protested the assistant.
"Did you let the room to any other person?"
"I did; but Lynch may occupy it with him, for aught I know. These fellows all run together, and I don't know who are in the rooms. We let them for a dollar a night, and don't care who sleeps in them."
The officer knocked at the door, and was promptly answered by a person whose voice did not sound at all like Lynch's. My hopes were failing, and I would have taken half my money, and givena receipt in full for the whole, if I could have made such a trade.
"Open the door," said the officer.
Even this request was promptly complied with, and we found the bed occupied by only one person. Glynn protested that he had not seen Lynch since he gave him the key and the light early in the evening; and, whether we believed him or not, we were forced to accept his explanation. We saw Redwood afterwards, and he appeared to be as innocent as his immaculate assistant. Both of them apologized to me for the rude treatment to which I had been subjected, and declared that they had made a bad mistake in taking me for a house-breaker, since I was now vouched for by no excellent a person as Captain Davis, of the steamer Fawn. If they ever saw Lynch again, they would hand him over to the officers of the law. It was for their interest to do so, because the reputation of the house was greatly injured by having a person robbed within it. They would do what they could to recover my money; and if they succeeded, where should they send it?
Captain Davis could not help laughing at this speech, and told me I need not trouble myself toleave any address. Both protested that they were in earnest; and certainty their logic was correct, whether they were sincere or not. If the local newspaper stated that a person had been robbed of a hundred dollars at Redwood's lodging-house, the fact would deter others from going there, for even gamblers and other fast men would object to having their money stolen. We left the house, and I gave up my money as lost; but I was willing to believe that I had purchased a hundred dollars' worth of wisdom and experience with it, and so I had a fair equivalent.
In the street I found the officer was not disposed to abandon the case. He had a reputation to make in that new land; and perhaps it was worth more to him than to me to find the money. I was entirely willing that he should increase his credit as a thief-taker by restoring my property, and I warmly seconded his endeavors. We watched the lodging-house till dinner time, but without seeing any one who looked like Lynch. In short, the officer made no progress in establishing a title to the position of chief of police when the office should be created in the new and growing city.
I returned to the steamer at the landing, and ofcourse my first inquiries were for Mr. Gracewood and his family. To my astonishment and grief, not a word had been heard of them. Captain Davis had caused a thorough search to be made in the town, without obtaining the slightest clew to them. I was amazed, and so were others who were interested in the fate of the absent ones. It was incredible that any calamity had overtaken them by which the whole party had been lost. If the boat had been upset, the deck hands at least could have saved themselves.
I forgot all about my money in my anxiety for my friends. I could not believe that they had been lost; it was too sad and too improbable to be considered, and I rejected the supposition. But the mystery weighed heavily upon me. The steamer was ready to proceed on her voyage, and the passengers were grumbling at the delay; but Captain Davis was unwilling to proceed without the absentees. In the middle of the afternoon he cast off his fasts, when a portion of his passengers, who had not paid their fare, threatened to leave the boat, and take another which was in sight above the town. But, instead of continuing on his way down the river, he headed her up thestream, in order to examine the shores for any signs of the lost family.
I was deeply interested in the fate of Mr. Gracewood, his wife and daughter, for they were really the only friends I had in the world. I had been saved from a burning steamer by old Matt Rockwood, and was brought up by him in his cabin. I knew nothing of my parents, but old Matt had been a father to me, and the coming of Mr. Gracewood furnished me with a competent instructor in manners, morals, and the various branches of learning. After the death of old Matt, my good friend had been strangely joined by his wife and daughter, and I had lived one season with the family. As the winter approached, we had left our home in the wilds of the far west, and were now on our way to St. Louis. These events all passed in review through my mind, as I thought of the Gracewoods who had so strangely disappeared.
Old Matt Rockwood had left a considerable sum of money in his chest, which, with the profits of our farm and wood-yard, amounted to over sixteen hundred dollars, when the accounts were finally settled. Fifteen hundred of this sum was in the keeping of Mr. Gracewood, though I held his notefor it, and was in no danger of losing it, though he should never appear again. But I had no selfish thoughts. I was interested only in the safety of my friend and his family. The daughter, pretty Ella Gracewood, had been my constant friend and companion at the settlement. I had rescued her from the Indians who had captured her, and it would have broken my heart to know that any calamity had overtaken her.
The Fawn went up the river in spite of the grumbling of the passengers. We passed the steamer coming down the stream; but Captain Davis declared that he should be on his way to St. Louis before the other boat could get away from Leavenworth. Like all other western steamboat masters, he said and did all he could to get and keep his passengers. Extending from the mouth of the stream, where our steamer had passed the night, there was a cut-off, through which the boat, with Mr. Gracewood, had come. The water rushed through it like a sluice, and probably by this time it is the main channel of the river.
"Stop her!" shouted Captain Davis to the pilot, as the boat was passing the outlet of this cut-off.
"What is it, captain?" I asked, startled by the order, and fearful that he had discovered some evidence of a disaster.
"There is an oar," said he, pointing to the shore.
I saw the oar, which had washed up on the bank of the river. The boat was run up to the point, and it was identified as one belonging to the missing boat.
"That is something towards it," said the captain, as the oar was examined on board. "If they didn't lose the other one they could get along well enough."
"Perhaps they did lose the other," suggested the mate.
"It is not very likely they lost both oars," added Captain Davis.
"Do you suppose the boat upset?" I asked, with my heart in my mouth.
"Certainly not. If it did we should have found the boat, or heard from the men. The whole party could not have been drowned in a narrow place like that," replied the captain, confidently.
"What do you think has become of them?" I continued.
"Nothing worse than being carried down the river could have happened to them. I'm sure of that. It's absurd to think that three men should be lost in a stream not a hundred feet wide. Go ahead, pilot!" shouted the captain.
"Down stream?" asked the man at the wheel.
"Yes; we shall pick up the party somewhere below."
The Fawn came about, and to the great satisfaction of the growling portion of her passengers, resumed her voyage down the river. I did the best I could to convince myself that no catastrophe had overtaken my friends. When we came to Leavenworth, we found that the steamer we had passed—whose name was the Daylight—was not there. If she had stopped at all, she had not remained there more than a few minutes. Captain Davis was annoyed at this circumstance, for she would take the passengers and freight that were waiting at the various points on the river below, which would otherwise have been taken by the Fawn. I saw him go down to the main deck, where the furnaces and boilers were located, and in a short time I was conscious that they were crowding the boat up to her highestspeed. A race had commenced, not so much to ascertain which of the two boats was the fastest, as to obtain the freight and passengers that were awaiting transportation at the towns below us. I felt no interest in the trial of speed, which at another time might have afforded me a pleasant excitement. From the hurricane deck I watched the shores, to obtain any tidings of the missing boat or her passengers.
At Delaware City the Daylight made a landing; but the Fawn, to my surprise and chagrin, did not stop. It was possible that the Gracewoods had been carried down to this point in their unmanageable boat, and had landed here.
"Why don't you make a landing here? Captain Davis?" I inquired.
"Because the Daylight has gone in ahead of me, and I shall get no freight or passengers if I don't keep ahead of her."
"But Mr. Gracewood and his family may be here."
"It is not improbable. I feel that I have done all I could for them."
"You might stop."
"I can't sacrifice the interest of my owners,Phil. If the Gracewoods are there, they can take passage in the Daylight. They will not suffer any great hardship, while my boat may lose hundreds of dollars by the delay."
"I shall be in misery till I hear from them."
"You need not be. I am sure no serious accident has happened to them. I want the two men I sent in the boat, but I couldn't stop to get them, even if I knew they were at Delaware City. But we shall hear from your friends before long. The Daylight will drive her wheels hard to keep up with us. I see she hasn't much freight, and she will stop at every place of any size."
"But if you keep ahead of her all the time, how shall we get any news from her?"
"The Fawn is faster than the Daylight, and I can afford to let her pass me at any place where I can obtain freight enough to make it an object. If the Gracewoods are on board of her, they will make themselves known as she goes by. There will be a good deal of freight at Kansas City, where we shall arrive to-night. You will probably find the Daylight there in the morning."
I was satisfied with the captain's explanation, and I hoped the morning would justify his expectations. We made no landings till we reached Kansas City, about eight o'clock in the evening. There was a crowd of passengers there, who rushed on board as soon as the plank was laid down. The freight was immediately taken on board. I was very tired after the exertions and excitement of the day and of the preceding evening, and I went to bed, hoping and expecting to see the Daylight at the landing when I awoke in the morning. I slept very soundly, in spite of the grief and anxiety that weighed upon me; and it is fortunate that Nature will assert her claim, or we might sometimes wear ourselves out with fruitless repinings.
When I came to my consciousness in the morning, I discovered that the boat was in motion. The monotonous puff of the steam-escape pipes saluted my ears. Half dressed, I went out upon the gallery of the boat, but I could see nothing that looked like Kansas City, or the Daylight. The deck hands had been taking in freight when I went to sleep; but how long the boat had been in motion I could not tell.
IN WHICH PHIL WANDERS ABOUT ST. LOUIS, AND HAS A GLEAM OF HOPE.
When I had completed my toilet, I hastened to find Captain Davis. I was indignant at his course in leaving Kansas City, and I felt that he had been guilty of treachery to me and to the Gracewoods. I went all over the boat, from the wheel-house to the main deck; but the captain was not to be seen. The engineer, in answer to my inquiry, told me Captain Davis had been up till after midnight, and probably had not yet turned out.
"What time did the boat leave Kansas City?" I asked.
"About eleven o'clock; possibly it was half past eleven."
"Did you see anything of the Daylight?"
"Not a thing; and you won't see her till wehave been in St. Louis two or three days," replied the engineer. "She can't keep up with the Fawn. Besides, we are full of freight and passengers now, and shall make no long stops anywhere."
"That's mean," I growled, as I left the engineer.
I wanted to cry with vexation; but I had made up my mind that it was not manly to shed tears. I walked up and down the hurricane deck till breakfast time. This exercise had a tendency to cool my hot blood, and I considered the situation in a calmer state of mind. I could be of no service to the Gracewoods, and the father of the family was abundantly able to take care of them. If I could only have been assured of their safety I should have been satisfied.
I went to breakfast; but Captain Davis did not appear till most of the passengers had left the table. I suspected that he did not wish to see me; but that did not prevent me from taking a seat at his side, even at the risk of spoiling his appetite.
"You told me you should not leave Kansas City till the Daylight arrived, Captain Davis," I began.
"Not exactly, Phil. I told you she would probably be there in the morning, or something of that kind."
"Why did you leave, then, before morning?"
"Because my passengers were indignant at the delay I had already made for your friends."
"It was mean."
"Steady, Phil."
"It was mean to serve me such a trick."
"You seem to think, Phil, that we run this boat simply for your accommodation. You are slightly mistaken. I have done more now than most captains would have done. However, I suppose you feel bad, and I won't blame you for being a little cross."
"I didn't mean to be cross," I added, rather vexed that I had spoken so hastily. "I do feel bad. I have lost my money, and lost my friends."
"And I have done the best I could to help you find both."
"You have, Captain Davis. Excuse me for speaking so hastily."
"All right, Phil; but it's a poor way to blame your friends when things go wrong."
"I know it is. Mr. Gracewood had all mymoney except what I lost, and I haven't a dollar left."
"Well, your passage is paid to St. Louis, and, when the Fawn arrives there, we will see what can be done for you."
"Thank you, sir. You have been very kind to me, and I am sorry I said anything out of the way."
"That's all right now. I have no doubt your friends will come down in the Daylight, and then all will be well with you. Keep cool, and don't fret about anything."
I tried to follow this advice, but I found it very hard work. I talked over all the possibilities and probabilities with the captain, and I was almost convinced that I was worrying myself for nothing. We should arrive at St. Louis in a couple of days more, and the Daylight would soon follow us. I watched the ever-changing scene on the shores of the river with far less delight than when Ella Gracewood sat at my side. We passed large towns and small ones, and I saw the capital of Missouri, with its State House and other public buildings. Early on the morning of the third day after leavingKansas City we passed into the Mississippi. A little later in the day we were approaching the great city of St. Louis.
I gazed, with wonder and astonishment, at the vast piles of buildings. I saw the crowds of people hurrying to and fro on Front Street, which borders the river; and I could not help feeling what an insignificant mite I was in the mass of humanity. At the Castle, where I was brought up, I was a person of no little consequence; but here, if I were to figure at all, it must be as a zero. The people on board of the Fawn seemed to catch the infection of bustling activity, for they began to hurry back and forth, collecting their baggage, and making preparations to land.
The boat ran up to the levee, and another lively scene ensued. Hackmen struggled for the passengers, and porters and draymen added their share to the din. I was bewildered, and gazed with my mouth wide open at the bustling life before me. In about an hour the passengers had all disappeared, and I was almost alone on the boiler deck, from which I viewed the panorama of civilization, so new and strange, whichwas passing before me. The drays were carting off the freight which we had brought, some of it from the vicinity of the Rocky Mountains. The captain had told me I might occupy my state-room, and take my meals with him in the cabin, till the arrival of my friends. I had nothing to do but wait, and when the scene in the vicinity of the Fawn became rather tame, I went on shore. The levee for half a mile was flanked with steamboats, and in several places the excitement I had just witnessed was repeated.
Leaving Front Street, I walked up Market Street, till I came to the Court House. Following Fourth Street, I halted, absolutely bewildered by the magnificent proportions of the Planters' Hotel, which I believe has since been destroyed by fire. But there was no end to my amazement, and I will not attempt to paint the impressions of a green boy as he gazed for the first time upon the elegant public buildings of St. Louis, and at the splendid private residences. All day long I wandered about the city, with my mouth, as well as my eyes and ears, wide open. I gazed at the rich displays of dry goodsin the shop windows, and concluded that the people of the city were made of money if they could afford to buy such gorgeous apparel. I looked for hours at the pictures at the print-sellers', and stared at the costly equipages in which elegantly-dressed ladies were riding. I only returned to the steamer when my legs ached so that they would hardly sustain the weight of my body.
In the cabin, at supper, I astonished the captain with a glowing account of what I had seen, just as though the scene was as new and strange to him as to me. The next day I repeated my explorations; but at dinner time I examined all the steamers at the levee to satisfy myself that the Daylight had not yet arrived. I ventured inside of the Planters' Hotel, and some of the public buildings, and the interior of them was even more wonderful to me than the exterior had been.
Two days familiarized me in some degree with the wonders of the great city, and after that I was able to walk through the streets with my mouth shut. I felt that I ought to be at work. It was time for me to commence mynew career of existence. In my walks through the city, I had stopped frequently to observe the work where new buildings were in process of erection. After examining the work for a while, I came to the conclusion that I had a great deal to learn before I could be a carpenter. However, I intended to make a beginning as soon as I could.
Phil and Captain Davis.Page 67.
Phil and Captain Davis.Page 67.
"The Daylight is just coming in, Phil," said Captain Davis, as I came in to supper after the tramps of the second day in the city.
"I am so glad!" I exclaimed.
"Eat your supper, Phil, and I will go with you then to the place where she lies."
"Do you suppose the Gracewoods are on board of her?"
"I have no doubt they are; but I should not be at all alarmed even if they were not."
"Why not?"
"They may have missed the boat; but we won't guess at anything again. The Daylight passed us just as you came on board, and will make a landing below."
I bolted my supper, and was so excited I could not have told whether I was eating breador shavings. When the captain had finished his meal, we hastened down the levee, and were soon on board of the Daylight. The passengers were just going on shore, and I watched the stairs by which they were descending to the main deck to catch the first glimpse of any familiar face. But I was disappointed; and when the last one came down, my heart sank within me.
Captain Davis ascended to the cabin, and I followed, actually trembling with anxiety. We found the clerk in his office, at work upon the manifest.
"Did you take on any passengers at Delaware City?" asked Captain Davis.
"Yes; a dozen of them."
"Any by the name of Gracewood?"
"No," replied the clerk, after he had consulted the list.
"Are you sure, sir?" I asked, unwilling to believe the unpleasant statement.
"Very sure."
"Please to look again," said I.
"You must excuse me; I am very busy.There is the list; you can examine it for yourself."
I looked over the names, but that of Gracewood did not occur.
"They are not here, Phil," said Captain Davis.
"No, they are not," I replied, gloomily.
"We will wait a little while, till the hurry is over, and then we may ascertain something about your friends."
We went out upon the boiler deck, where we could overlook everything that transpired. The deck hands were landing freight and baggage, and everybody was hurrying as though his life depended upon his celerity.
"I shall believe they were all drowned if I don't hear something from them soon," I said.
"That is not at all probable, and I shall not believe anything of that kind till I have positive evidence of it. It is just as easy, and a great deal more pleasant, to think everything is right with them, instead of wrong, until we get the facts."
"You haven't the same interest in the matter that I have, captain."
"That may be; but I don't believe in makingmyself miserable about anything on mere guesswork. I think it is all right with your friends. But I must say, if you don't hear from them to-day, we must make different arrangements for you, for my owners intend to send the Fawn down to New Orleans with a freight which we take on at Alton. We shall go up there to-morrow."
"What will you do with Mr. Gracewood's goods and baggage?"
"Send them to the storehouse. There!" exclaimed he, suddenly, as he pointed to a man who was wheeling a box on shore. "That is one of the hands who went with the Gracewoods in the small boat. And there is the other. We shall soon know what has become of your friends."
The fact that these two men had come down in the Daylight was hopeful, at least, and Captain Davis and I hastened down to question them; but the master of the steamer would not release them from their work, and we were obliged to wait till the hurry was over before we obtained the coveted information.
IN WHICH PHIL HEARS FROM HIS FRIENDS, AND VISITS MR. CLINCH.
The two deck hands, who had worked their passage down on the Daylight, were relieved from duty as soon as the baggage of the passengers had been put on shore. They followed Captain Davis to the Fawn, where we drew from them all the information they had in regard to the Gracewoods.
"Where are the passengers who went with you?" was the first question which the captain asked, when we started up the levee.
"At Delaware City, sir. The lady was sick, and not quite able to come down in the Daylight," replied one of the men.
"Sick!" I exclaimed.
"Sick; but not very bad, I believe. Shecaught a cold coming down the river," answered the spokesman.
"Where is she?"
"At a house in the town; I don't know whose it is."
"Was the young lady sick?" I inquired, anxiously.
"No; she was first rate."
"But how came you at Delaware City?"
"We couldn't help going there, Captain Davis," replied the spokesman of the two, who was evidently embarrassed.
"You couldn't help it?" said the captain.
"No, sir; we could not. The current was very swift."
"Explain yourself, man. I didn't suppose I had sent a couple of hands in the boat with those passengers who couldn't handle a pair of oars."
"I didn't think so, either. We did as well as any men could; the gentleman will tell you so when you see him."
"Well, what did you do? What was the matter?" demanded the captain, impatiently.
"There was a line stretched across that cut-off. I suppose the man that owned the island used itto haul his bateau across by; for it was a seven-mile current in the place."
"It was all of that," added the other man, by way of fortifying the statement of his companion.
"Go on," said the captain.
"Well, sir, the boat ran on to that line, and it carried her bow clear out of water," continued the spokesman. "In fact, the water came in over the stern, and wet the lady who sat farthest aft. I sprang forward to trim the boat, for I did not know what the matter was then. In my hurry I lost my oar overboard. I couldn't help it, for I was thinking only of saving the ladies from drowning, for both of them were screaming with fright."
"That's so," said the other man. "They were scared out of their wits."
"When I went to the bow, I couldn't tell what the matter was. I took the other oar, and sounded with it, to see if we were aground, and then I felt the rope. It was caught just under the bow, where there was a break in the iron shoe. I put the end of the oar on the line, and crowded it down so that the boat could slide over it. But the blade of the oar was split, and theline was jammed into the crack. The boat went over, and when I tried to pull in the oar, it was fast. The current took the boat, and gave me such a jerk that I had to let go, or go overboard."
"And you left the oar fast to the line?"
"Yes, sir; I couldn't help it."
"Perhaps you couldn't; but go on."
"We went on in spite of ourselves. The current carried the boat through the cut-off into the river. I tried to pull up one of the thwarts, to use as a paddle, but we couldn't start them. It was very dark and foggy, as you know, captain, and we couldn't see where we were. We watched our chances as well as we could, and tried to get hold of something."
"Why didn't you sing out?"
"That's what we did. But the current carried us over the other side of the river from Leavenworth, and I suppose no one heard us; at any rate no one came to help us. The poor lady who had got wet in the cut-off was shivering with cold, and we tried everything we could think of to stop the boat; but still we kept going down stream, whirling round now and then."
"Well, how did you stop her at last?" demanded the captain, finding that the spokesman was disposed to be rather diffuse in his narrative.
"After we had been going about two hours—Wasn't it two hours, Dick?"
"It wasn't less than that."
"No matter how long it was. Go on," interposed the captain, who did not care to listen to a discussion on this point.
"Well, sir, we almost run into a man who was crossing the river in a bateau, with a lot of groceries. We shouted to him, and he run his boat alongside of us. We made fast to him, and he pulled us to the shore. He told us we were on the other side of the river from Delaware City. Mr. Gracewood made a trade with him to take us over to that place, and I helped him row over, towing the boat astern of us. I reckon the gentleman paid him well for his trouble."
"Where did they go then?" asked the captain.
"They went to a house in the town. The lady was all used up, and had chills and fever that night; but they thought she was better in the morning. They sent up to Leavenworth for a doctor."
"Then she was very sick," I added.
"No; the doctor didn't say so. He thought she would be out in a week."
"Where did you go then?" asked the captain.
"We found a place to sleep on the levee. Mr. Gracewood gave us five dollars apiece, and—"
"And you got drunk," suggested the captain.
"No, sir; we did not. I won't say we didn't take something, for we were cold."
"Why didn't you go up to Leavenworth, where you knew the boat would be in the morning?"
"We meant to do that in the morning, as soon as it was daylight; but Dick was afraid the Fawn might get there and start down the river before we could tramp up to the place. Besides, we wanted to know how the lady was, so as to let you know; and we didn't like to go to the house so early in the morning," added the spokesman, glancing at his companion.
"I thought it was safer to wait on the levee till the Fawn came down," said Dick. "We supposed, of course, she would stop there."
"I was of the same mind myself," continued the spokesman. "We waited till most night,when the Daylight made a landing; and then we saw the Fawn coming; but she stood off from the levee, and went down the river at full speed. I hailed her as loud as I could, but she took no notice of me. The captain of the Daylight let us work our passage down."
"Where is the boat?"
"On board the Daylight."
"How was Mrs. Gracewood when you left Delaware City?" I inquired.
"She was too sick to leave in the Daylight; but the doctor thought she might be able to take a boat in two or three days," replied Dick.
"Now go and get the boat," added the captain.
"They may not come for a week," said I, as they departed.
"Perhaps not; but you can't tell much about it from the story of these men."
"Don't you think they told the truth?"
"In the main, they did; but in my opinion they got drunk. If not, they would have returned to Leavenworth. Probably they have stretched the story a little. At any rate, youcan't tell how sick the lady is from anything they said."
"She got wet in the boat, and took cold, I suppose."
"I suppose so."
The news from my friends was not very cheering, but it was a relief to be assured that no calamity had overtaken them. I would have gone to them at once if I had had the money to pay my passage; and I said as much to Captain Davis.
"That would be a useless step, Phil," he replied. "If the lady is sick, you can do them no good. It would be a waste of money for you to do so."
"If I had it, I should be willing to waste it in that way," I added.
"Then it is fortunate that you haven't it, Phil. What do you mean to do here in St. Louis? Does Mr. Gracewood intend to support you?"
"I don't intend to be supported by any one," I answered, perhaps with a little indignation; "I mean to support myself."
"What do you intend to do?"
"I am going to learn the carpenter's trade, if I can find a place."
"All right, Phil. That's a sensible idea. I didn't know but you expected to be a gentleman, as most of the boys do who come from the country," said the captain. "Come with me, my boy, and we will see about a place."
"That's just what I want, captain—a chance to learn the carpenter's trade. I know something about it now."
I followed the captain on shore, and we went to a quiet street in one of the humbler sections of the city, where he rang the bell at a house.
"Is Mr. Clinch at home?" asked Captain Davis of the woman who answered the summons.
"Yes, sir; he has just come in from his work. Won't you walk in?"
We entered the house, and were shown to a very plainly furnished parlor, where Mr. Clinch soon appeared. He was clothed in coarse garments, but he had a very intelligent countenance, and I liked the looks of him.
"O, Captain Davis," exclaimed the carpenter,grasping the hand of my companion, "I am glad to see you."
"It always does me good to take your honest hand, Clinch. This young man is Phil Farringford, and he comes from the upper Missouri. He is a smart boy, and wants to learn your trade."
Mr. Clinch took me by the hand, and gave me a cordial greeting.
"I don't take any apprentices, now," he added. "I find it don't pay. As soon as we get a boy so that he can drive a nail without pounding his fingers, he wants a man's wages, or runs away as soon as he is worth anything to me."
"If I make a trade, sir, I shall stick to it," I ventured to say.
"You look like an honest young man, but I can't take apprentices, as we used to in former years."
"Phil knows something about the business now," interposed the captain. "He is handy with tools, and is as tough as an oak knot. He knows what hard work is, and has just come out of the woods."
"But I can't take a boy into my family," continued Mr. Clinch; "I haven't room, and it makes the work too hard for my wife."
"He might board somewhere else," said the captain.
"That indeed. I like the looks of the boy."
"If you can do anything for him, I shall regard it as a favor to me," added my friend.
"I should be very glad to serve you, Captain Davis. I want more help, but a boy isn't of much use. How old are you, Phil?"
"Thirteen, sir."
"You look older. What can you do?"
I told him what I could do; that I could handle a saw, axe, hammer, and auger; that I had built a bateau, made boxes, and done similar work. He seemed to be very sceptical, but finally agreed to give me three dollars a week, which he thought would board and clothe me, if, upon trial, I proved to be worth that. He told me where he was at work, and wished me to be on hand the next morning.
IN WHICH PHIL GOES TO WORK, AND MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
"Everything depends upon yourself now, Phil," said Captain Davis, as we walked back to the steamer. "When Clinch finds that you are worth more than three dollars a week, he will give you more."
"I didn't expect any more than that," I replied. "If it will pay my board for a time, I shall be satisfied. I will do the best I can, and I hope my wages will be increased very soon."
"Now you want a boarding-house," continued the captain. "I don't know where to look for one, but I suppose you will not think of living at the Planters' Hotel?"
"Not exactly, sir."
We entered a grocery store, near the house of Mr. Clinch, where the captain was acquainted,and he inquired for a suitable boarding-place for a boy like me.
"If he's a good boy, I know just the place for him," replied the grocer.
"He is as good a boy as there is in the world," answered the captain, with a zeal that caused me to blush.
"Mrs. Greenough, who lives over my store, spoke to me, a few days ago, about a boy. She is an elderly woman, whose husband died about a year ago, leaving her this house. She has no other property except her furniture, and the rent of this store about pays her expenses. She is a little timid, and does not like to be alone in the house at night. She is a nice woman, and perhaps she will take your young man to board. She wanted one of my young men to occupy a room up stairs, but both of them live at home."
"We will go up and see her. This boy is going to work for Clinch to-morrow, and this will be a good locality for him."
"Just the place," added the grocer, as he conducted us up stairs to the rooms of Mrs. Greenough.
The house was a small one, and the store occupied the whole of the ground floor, except a small entry. It was three stories high, with a flat roof, and I judged that the tenement could not contain more than four rooms. We were taken up stairs, and found the lady in her little parlor. She was about fifty years old, and did not appear to be in good health. The grocer explained our business, and having vouched for the good character of Captain Davis, he left us.
"I didn't think of taking a boy to board," said Mrs. Greenough. "I thought if I could get one of the young men in the store to sleep in the house, I should feel safer. But I don't know but I might take him, if he is a very steady boy."
"Steady as a judge, Mrs. Greenough," replied Captain Davis. "He's going to be a carpenter."
"Is he? My poor husband was a carpenter," added the lady, wiping a tear from her eye. "I am a lone woman now."
"Phil will be good company for you. He knows more than most boys of his age. Hehas fought through one campaign against the Indians, and is a dead shot with his rifle."
"Not always, captain," I remonstrated.
"He has brought down his man, at any rate. He speaks French, and—"
"O, no, I don't, captain. I have studied it, and can read it a little."
"I don't talk any French," added the old lady, with a smile; so that won't make any difference. I thought, at one time, I would take a boy who would help me, and work a little for his board, but I concluded I couldn't afford to do that; for I don't have anything but the rent of the store to live on."
"Well, Mrs. Greenough, you can split the difference. Phil can't afford to pay much for his board. He can help you a little in the morning and at night."
"I haven't much to do, except to bring up the wood and water from the cellar, which is down two flights, and it's rather hard work for me, for I'm not very strong."
"I shall be very glad to help you, Mrs. Greenough," I added.
"How much can you take him for, madam?"said the captain, beginning to be a little impatient.
The old lady had not made up her mind on this important subject, and the captain suggested two dollars a week as a fair price, if I helped about the house when I had time. She was satisfied with this amount, and I am sure I was; so the bargain was closed. Mrs. Greenough wanted to know more about me, and the captain spoke so handsomely of me, that my modesty will not permit me to quote his testimony. I walked back to the steamer with Captain Davis, and after thanking him, from the depths of my heart, for all his kindness and care, I took my leave of him. He told me he should send all the effects of Mr. Gracewood to the storehouse of his owners, where they could be obtained on his arrival. He advised me to write to my friends at once, and I promised to do so that night. Taking the box, which contained the few articles of value I possessed, under my arm, and the rifle I had brought from my forest home, I hastened to my new boarding-house.
Before I did anything else, I wrote the letter to Mr. Gracewood, and carried it to the post-office. On my return, Mrs. Greenough showed me my room. It was on the third floor, in the rear of her own apartment. I must say that it looked like a boudoir in a palace to me. It was plainly but very neatly furnished. She told me I could put my clothes in the drawers of the bureau; but I answered that I had none to put there, except a single woollen shirt, and a pair of socks, which I had washed myself on board of the steamer. I wore a suit of "civilized clothes," as we called them at the settlement; and I had a pair of woollen shirts, and two pairs of socks. My landlady thought my wardrobe was rather scanty, but I considered it all-sufficient, and did not worry because I could not follow the fashion.
I opened my box, and took from it the little dress and other garments which I had worn when old Matt Rockwood picked me up, on the Missouri River. Mrs. Greenough's curiosity was excited, and I told her all I knew about my past history. She was deeply interested in the narrative, and asked me a greatmany questions about the Gracewoods, which I answered to the best of my ability. I was well pleased with my new home. My landlady was very kind and motherly, and when I retired that night, I thanked God for his kindness in directing my steps to such a pleasant abode.
When I awoke the next morning, I heard a church clock striking five. I rose and made my simple toilet in less time than I could have done it even a year later. I went down into the kitchen, which was the room Mrs. Greenough occupied most of the time, and made a fire in the stove. I had done everything I could find to do when the landlady came down.
"You are quite handy about house, Phil," said she, with a cheerful smile.
"I ought to be. I used to keep house at the clearing. I can cook and wash."
"What can you cook?"
"I can boil potatoes, bake or roast them; I can fry and boil bacon, and I can bake bread. We didn't have so many things to work with as you do here."
"Can you make pies and cake?"
"No; we never had those things at the clearing until Mrs. Gracewood came there."
"They were rich folks, you said."
"Yes; they have plenty of money; but it did not do them much good out in the woods. I should like to hear how Mrs. Gracewood is."
"I hope she is better. When they come you will have some strong friends."
"Yes; but I intend to take care of myself. They will go among big folks, where I cannot go; but I hope I shall see Miss Ella sometimes."
"Of course you will."
"She is a beautiful young lady," I added, warmly.
"But you may find your father and mother one of these days."
"I hardly expect to do that; I doubt whether they are living."
"From what you say, I should think you might find out who they are. Of course they had some relations somewhere, and perhaps they will be willing to take care of you."
"I don't want any one to take care of me;I mean to take care of myself. Mr. Gracewood has fifteen hundred dollars belonging to me."
"Well, that's comfortable. If you should be sick, you will not want for anything."
We talked over the past and the present till breakfast was ready. The fried bacon and potatoes looked like old friends, and I did ample justice to the fare. I am not sure that my landlady was not alarmed when she realized my eating capacity, as compared with the price I was to pay for my board. At half past six I started for the building which Mr. Clinch was putting up. It was a large storehouse, near the levee.
"Good, Phil! I'm glad to see you on hand in season," said my employer.
"I mean to be on time always, sir."
"I'm paying my best men two dollars a day now," added Mr. Clinch.
"Does that young man get two dollars a day?" I asked, pointing to a boy of eighteen or nineteen, who was putting on his overalls in front of the building.
"No; that's Morgan Blair. He came downfrom Illinois last spring. I give him a dollar a day. He doesn't know the business, and that is more than he is worth. You will work with Conant."
Calling one of the workmen who answered to this name, he directed him to take me under his charge. The frame of the building was up, and we were to be engaged in boarding it.
"Come along, my boy; we will take the stiffening out of you in about two hours," said Conant, as he led the way to the stage.
"All right; when I break down I will give you leave to bury me."
"Do you think you can lift your end of a board?"
"I can; and lift both ends, if need be."
"You have got the pluck, but it's hard work for a boy."
"I will keep my side up."
Mr. Clinch had given me a hammer and a bag of nails, which I tied around my body, as I saw the other men do. I was strong and tough, and could easily handle any lumber used on the work. I carried my end of eachboard up to the frame, and I am sure I drove as many nails as Conant. But I will not describe the process by which the building was erected. I did my full share of the work until noon.
"Don't you want to go to bed now?" asked Conant, when we knocked off.
"Go to bed! No. Why should I?"
"Ain't you tuckered out?"
"No, not at all; I don't feel quite so fresh as I did this morning, but I shall be all right again when I get my dinner."
"You are a tough 'un, then."
"Well, Conant, how does Phil get along?" asked Mr. Clinch, as we came down from the stage.
"Tip-top; he has done a man's work—twice as much as Morgan," replied Conant, with more magnanimity than I had given him credit for.
"All right. Phil, I am glad you are getting along well. It will be easier work when we get the building covered."
In going home to dinner, I went pretty near the steamboat levee. A boat had just come in, and I wanted to know if it had come fromthe Missouri, for I was very anxious to hear from the Gracewoods. I hastened towards the landing. I met the passengers as they came up, and on inquiry of one of them learned that the steamer was from St. Joe, but she had not stopped at Delaware City; so of course the Gracewoods could not have come in her.
I was about to leave, when I perceived Mr. Leonidas Lynchpinne coming across the levee. I thought that I had business with him, and I hastened to resume the relations with him which had been interrupted at Leavenworth.