Books: The House Boat Boys
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St. George Rathborne >> The House Boat Boys
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The package did contain several articles in the line of groceries,
which the good-hearted storekeeper judged the Stormways would be
out of, and when she saw this evidence of his thoughtfulness the
eyes of George's wife filled with tears, even though she laughed
and appeared light-hearted.
CHAPTER XIX.
ONCE MORE AFLOAT.
The balance of that day and the evening would
long be remembered by the boys. Maurice found the three children
bright and interesting; nor was that to be wondered at when they
had so intelligent a mother to guide them along the way.
George had considered the future so often, in case he ever had the
chance to get on an upland farm, that he had his plans all laid
out.
He looked ten per cent better by the time night settled in around
that little shack in the wilderness, and even doubting Thad made
up his mind that George was going to get well.
And that night was one of pleasant intercourse. There were scant
rations in the cabin, but then Bunny knew how to cook, and what
they had was a treat to the boys, accustomed to looking after
themselves so long. The hoe cake was browned just right and tasted
better than anything the boys had eaten for a long while, and
somehow the coffee was better than they had been able to brew.
In the morning George took the boys aside.
"I'm agoin' to ask you boys to do me a great favor," he said,
mysteriously.
Maurice looked at Thad and the latter turned white. He feared that
George meant to insist upon their sharing his little pile, and
neither of them would have touched one cent on any account.
"Yes, what's that, George?" asked Maurice, who on second thought
remembered that that subject had been threshed over on the
preceding night, when the good woman had tried to make them accept
a gift to help them along and they had firmly declined.
"Why, you see, I'm that afraid of bein' robbed now that it worried
me a heap. Suppose I jest hold out that odd thirty and let you
take the three hundred over to Kim Stallings to keep for me till I
want it? I'd be mighty much easier in my mind, boys, if you would
oblige."
Thad waited for his chum to say, for in a ease of this kind he
always deferred to Maurice as being better able to decide.
"To be sure, we will, George; I didn't want to mention it to you,
but was a little afraid something might happen to the money. Are
you able to leave home today? Could you borrow that mule you spoke
of and go with us to Morehead? It would be better to get some
paper from Kim to secure you?"
George thought he could make the journey, especially with the
mule. And besides, there were some things he would dearly love to
fetch back with him--things that Bunny had long gone without, for
the boys had seen that she was barefooted.
So it was arranged, to the delight of the good woman and the three
young Stormways. This had been a great event in the lives of the
boy and two girls, and they never wearied of hanging about the
young fellow who had known "mon's daddy."
The mule was borrowed from the obliging neighbor, and about nine
in the morning they started for Morehead, George being mounted on
the back of the animal, though he tried to insist upon their
taking turns.
But at this both boys laughed in scorn. Why, that five miles would
only be a "flea bite," as Thad declared, to them; and they really
needed the exercise, after being cooped up so long aboard the
little old Tramp,
Bunny saw them depart with considerable emotion. Thad was afraid
she would insist on kissing him again, but the good woman
contented herself with squeezing his hands and telling him once
more what a blessing he had brought to her poor little home.
George was interested in the tree that had contained such queer
fruit, and as they halted under its branches for a brief spell the
boys had to relate the story over again.
They had reached a point nearly two-thirds of the way to the river
hamlet when they heard a great barking and baying of dogs. The
sound appeared to come from over beyond the big timber.
"Seeds like the sheriff he's barking up the tree at last. I jedge
he's got them coons separated from ther hook in the swamp, an' if
that's so they ain't agoin' to 'scape him this time," remarked
George, as they stopped to listen.
The sounds grew fainter, however, showing that the chase must be
leading away from the road they followed.
"I'm right glad of that," remarked Thad, "for d'ye know, Maurice,
I'd sure hate to see any more prisoners in the hands of that
posse."
"Reckon there wouldn't be much danger o' that," remarked George,
with a significant nod, which Maurice took to mean that if caught
those black criminals might meet with a short shrift.
He could hardly believe that, however, since Sheriff Jerrold was a
duly authorized officer of the law and sworn to see it carried out
in the proper manner.
They arrived at the river before noon.
"There she is!" exclaimed Thad, eagerly pointing, and George saw
that it was a little squatty shanty-boat he meant.
"Why, I hope you didn't think anybody would be so mean as to steal
our Tramp?" demanded Maurice, although he, too, experienced more
or less lively satisfaction to once more set eyes on the clumsy
craft that had so long been their home.
"Well, down in this country nobody can tell. They say that if a
man does anything wrong his first idea is to hook a boat, no
matter what kind, the nearest he can lay hands on, and cut
downstream. But the sheriff is stirring things up just now, and
bad men must lie low. Anyhow, there's our bully old Tramp, right
side up with care."
Kim Stallings was glad to see George again, and when he heard what
glorious luck had befallen him, there was genuine warmth in the
handshake he thrust upon the weak man.
Of course, he was only too willing to act as custodian for the
three hundred dollars, and gave George a receipt for the money.
When he had settled on the upland farm he meant to rent, he could
easily get what the store-keeper was holding for him.
And now it was high time our boys once more started on their
voyage.
Hundreds of miles still separated them from their destination, and
no one could prophesy what difficulties must be faced and overcome
before they eventually brought up in New Orleans.
It was just noon when they let go and pushed out upon the friendly
bosom of the mighty Mississippi.
Kim and George gave them a parting salute, which the voyagers sent
back with a good will. Then shortly a bend cut them off from view,
and the little episode was numbered with the past.
"Anyhow, it was a bully time we had there," said Thad, as he
started to knock some sort of lunch together, while his chum
looked after piloting the boat.
"You bet it was, and neither of us will ever forget it. When Bunny
and Greorge saw that bunch of yellow boys, didn't they stare
though? I came near blubbering myself, honest, Thad, I was that
worked up," confessed Maurice, frankly.
"Oh! I slobbered right over, only you didn't see me, because I got
behind. I'm right glad we did it; and wasn't that a hunky-dory
find, though? Every time I set eyes on that hole I'll just have to
think of the great luck we had."
The old life was taken up again. Borne along on the rapid current
of the powerful river, they made mile after mile as the day wore
on.
Nothing of moment occurred to disturb the serenity of the scene,
and as evening approached they hunted as usual for a good place
where the shanty-boat could be tied up for the night.
Once they thought this had been found when what seemed to be the
mouth of a stream was sighted ahead; but as they pushed in it was
only to find that another floating family had pre-empted the
place.
The boys might have even remained had they seemed to be anything
like Bob Archiable, for instance, the clock mender of earlier
days, but the looks of the three men they saw quite discouraged
them.
"Out we go again," muttered Maurice, as they cleared the mouth of
the creek, followed by shouts from the owners of the other craft,
who called to them to pull in and "have a good time."
Our boys knew only too well what that implied, for liquor and
cards must form the sum total of what these rough characters
called a "good time," and they wanted none of that.
So it was just about dark before they found a chance to tie up to
a friendly tree that chanced to be close enough to the edge of the
bank to take their short cable.
Supper was prepared as usual. The provisions secured from the
warm-hearted storekeeper of Morehead Landing enabled them to
spread themselves to some extent. And Thad declared that life was
worth living again, as he sat there after eating, and lighted his
pipe for a smoke.
"What so sober about, Thad?" asked the other, when he had been
watching his chum's face for some little time.
Thad looked up, and grinned in his usual happy way.
"Oh! it ain't that I'm feeling bad, for I reckon if any feller has
a right to call himself lucky that's me. Where would I be now if
it hadn't been for you inviting me to make this cruise--"
"Here, don't you get to harping along like that again, my boy.
Didn't you promise to call it square? And do you suppose for one
little minute that I'd be here unless you were? Why, in the first
place the boat belonged to you. I didn't have half enough money to
take me all the way to Orleans; and I just reckon I'd had a tough
deal trying to negotiate more, the way things went at our home
town. Now, just what were you thinking about? I bet I can give a
guess."
"Well, what?" demanded Thad, quickly.
"It wasn't about George and Bunny, because then you'd have had a
smile on that face of yours. Seems to me you must have been
wondering if they got 'em!"
"Meanin' the coons of the swamp? Yes, that's what I had on my
mind. I never saw one of 'em, and yet somehow I keep a-wonderin'
whether they had a square show. Oh! well, it ain't any of our
business; and I reckon they must've been a bad lot, from what Kim
said. But I'm right glad they didn't get 'em while we happened to
be there, Maurice."
"That's me, every time. But forget it, and let's talk about what
we expect to do down below. Here's the charts, such as they are,
and none too reliable at the best. We ought to study 'em time and
again, because we may want to take a cut-off and save twenty miles
or more."
"Don't they say that's dangerous work?" asked Thad.
"Well, yes, it is, sometimes; but there are several places where
all the drifters pass through. You know our bully good friend. Bob
Archiable, marked two on the map. He's used 'em several years in
succession, he said."
"Yes, that's so; but seems to me he said we'd better keep our eyes
and ears open all the way down, and ask questions. Sometimes these
cut-offs fill up, and then a shanty-boat gets lost in a heap of
cross canals. He says they're like hen tracks sometimes."
"Well," remarked Maurice, thoughtfully, "it would be a pretty
tough deal if WE ever got mixed up in one of those puzzles. We're
short of grub, and there's only a few dozen shells left. Yes, I
reckon we will go mighty slow about leaving the old creek and
dipping into any of these tempting canals."
So they chatted and exchanged views as they sat there until both
grew sleepy, when the cozy bunks coaxed them into retiring.
Nothing occurred to annoy them during the night; though once Thad
awoke suddenly and sat up with a low cry on his lips.
Maurice never heard what the nature of his dream might be; but he
could give a good guess and felt that it must in some way be
connected with those fugitive blacks of the swamp, and the coming
of that sheriff's posse with the fierce dogs.
In the morning they were early astir.
It seemed as though they had been away from home a long time after
that one night spent with the Stormways. Thad remarked how natural
it was to get breakfast again; and Maurice said something along
the same lines as he went ashore to gather up a supply of firewood
for future use.
Again they moved with the current, always heading south. Every
mile passed over counted, since it took them nearer the point for
which they were aiming.
Thus several days glided along.
Bad weather alternated with good, but they were wise enough to
prepare in peace for war; and thus did not get caught napping when
trouble descended upon them.
As the days passed they talked less and less of what had gone by,
and began to take a keener interest in what lay ahead.
Now and then the little old Marlin was called on to supply them
with a game supper; and never did it fail to do its duty when the
chances were right; so that, on the whole, they fared pretty well,
and had no complaint coming.
When two weeks had passed since that night with George Stormways
and his family, they were down in the neighborhood made famous
during the Civil War; for Vicksburg lay not more than ten miles
ahead.
They had been wonderfully favored during this time, and no
accident had occurred to mar the run, the weather being on the
whole fair, though one cold storm caught them unprepared and gave
them a bad night.
That was a time when Thad's prophecies failed to save them from
inconvenience; but those who endeavor to read the weather are not
bothered by an occasional upset in their calculations, and on the
very next occasion he came to time just as smiling as ever.
The river seemed to be growing with each passing day, and
stretched so far into the west that there were times when they
could dimly see the opposite bank, which Maurice declared must be
ten miles distant; though again it would not be anything like that
to the Arkansas shore.
But they had now passed the southern border of the state, and he
announced that the land they were gazing at far over the tumbling
waters was that of Louisiana, the very state for which they were
bound.
From this time on they could not expect to make such good
progress, because of the unusual care that must be taken in order
to keep them from losing themselves in one of the false channels.
Again and again would they be tempted to shorten their day's trip
by cutting into one of these enticing necks; but Maurice had
resolved that he would not allow such a thing, and in the end it
proved a wise precaution.
He believed that an ounce of prevention was better than a pound of
cure, as it certainly is under all circumstances, and especially
during a water voyage down such a treacherous stream as the
Mississippi.
They began to have adventures with strolling darkies who visited
them after they had tied up for the night; and once when a noisy
crowd had threatened to do them bodily harm because the boys had
declined to make them a present of tobacco and strong drink, both
of them had to do guard duty during the night for fear of an
attack.
All these things told them that they were now getting down into
the sunny South, and that they would meet with disappointments
there as well as in other places, for true it is things seem more
alluring at a distance. But both boys were sturdy in body and
determined in spirit, so that they were not apt to be discouraged
by a few backsets of this character.
CHAPTER XX.
ON A PLANTATION IN DIXIE LAND.
Once below Vicksburg and the two boys felt that they were doing
well.
True, many difficulties had arisen to give them a chance to show
their grit and backbone. Maurice was of the opinion that they had
come out of these conflicts with flying colors, and each victory
seemed to renew their self confidence, as though that were the
true reason for the encounter.
There was no lack of shooting in this region, for ducks traded
between the river and adjacent lagoons at all hours of the day,
and many times Maurice was able to bring down a feathered pilgrim
of the air with a shot from the deck of the shanty-boat itself,
retrieving the same with a nail fastened to the end of one of the
poles.
What interested the boys most were the cotton fields that they
began to see.
Of course, both were familiar with cotton: in many of its aspects,
having been born and brought up close to the Kentucky border; but
these big fields where they could see myriads of the open bolls
not yet culled, late as the season was, caused them much pleasure.
And the negroes became more jovial the farther south they went. It
seemed as if the black man in migrating north left his natural
condition behind, and assumed many of the cares of the white man.
Down in the cotton country he was at his best, full of laughter,
careless of tomorrow so long as he had a dime in his ragged
trousers, and of course light-fingered when he saw a chance to
lift anything and no one appeared to be looking.
The boys had a lot of fun with some of these good natured darkies
who came about the fire they were accustomed to starting on shore
when the occasion allowed.
Sometimes they bribed them to dance a hoedown, or sing songs as
the spirit moved.
Maurice was surprised to find that they favored the sentimental
songs of the day, such as were being sung in the North. He
wondered so at this that finally he asked one fellow, a gray-
headed old chap, what had become of the negro melodies once so
famous, and now so seldom heard.
Then he learned that the negro of the South had reached a stage of
progress wherein he did not wish to be reminded of the fact that
he was once a slave and the property of a white master; and as
most of those dear old songs are along that line he gives them the
go-by when choosing his minstrel lays.
But by a little species of bribery they managed to induce some of
their visitors to sing the "S'wanee Ribber," "Massa's in de Cold,
Cold Groun'," "Black Joe," and others of a similar nature.
"Dear Ole Hom'ny Corn" seemed to be a prime favorite among them,
and the boys themselves never tired of joining in the chorus.
After they had lost several articles from some of these blacks
pilfering they learned to keep the cabin door locked when going
ashore. If bent on stealing, the southern negro can accomplish his
purpose in spite of watchful eyes, since there will come a moment
when attention is directed in another quarter, and like a shadow
he will creep aboard and accomplish his end.
Another thing began to trouble them about now, and this was the
fact that their slender stock of money had entirely given out,
with some weeks ahead before Uncle Ambrose could be expected to
come to the rescue.
Hence it became necessary that they find some means of earning
something.
Thad could fall back upon his experience as a carpenter, and if he
could get employment now and then might bring in enough of the
needful to supply them with the necessities of life.
Maurice on his part would only too willingly have done anything in
his line if he could find a chance. He was a pretty fair
bookkeeper, but it did not seem likely that he would run across
any one in this part of the country who wanted his books balanced.
Still both of them began to be on the lookout for opportunities,
determined to do whatever their hand came in contact with.
It was at Gibson's Landing that Thad struck his first chance.
Things were getting rather low, and they had not enjoyed a cup of
coffee for two days, on account of a lack of supplies or the
wherewithal to purchase the same.
Maurice was cleaning some fish they had taken that day when he saw
Thad coming at an unusually swift pace, and a look on his face
that spoke volumes.
"And now what!?" he demanded, as his partner sprang aboard.
"Bully news--I've struck a job. Last a week or so, and give us
enough cash to carry us through with careful nursing. And that
ain't the whole of it, either," was the way he broke loose.
"It's good as far as you've gone; now what else can there be to
make you feel so fine!" demanded Maurice.
"Mr. Simon Buckley--"
"Who's Mr. Simon Buckley?"
"Why, I was just going to tell you--he's a rich planter back here
a bit. I happened to mention the fact that I was a carpenter
looking for a job and he jumped on to me and said he was looking
for just such a man."
"Hurrah!" broke in the other, his face full of smiles.
"Then we got to talking," Thad continued, "and I told him all
about what we were trying to do, and he seemed interested and
asked questions, principally about you. What d'ye think; he knows
your Uncle Ambrose; why once, many years ago they were together in
Cuba? And he wants both of us to come with him tomorrow when he
starts back to his home; because he says he's got his books in a
terrible muss, and would be mighty glad to have you straighten 'em
out; and what d'ye think of all that, eh!"
Maurice smiled at his enthusiasm, but was certainly feeling a bit
the same way himself.
"Why, all I can say is what you're so fond of shouting whenever
any good luck floats our way--bully, bully, bully all around! I
felt sure we'd strike something before the worst came; and as
usual it was you who had to run across it. But how are we going to
leave our floating home while we pay this week's visit to the
plantation of Mr. Buckleyl"
"I thought of that when he said you must come, too, and when I
spoke of it to him he told me of a man he knew living on the
river--that's his shanty you see below there, with the chimney on
the outside--who would look after the boat and Dixie for a dollar
and be glad of the chance. It's all fixed, my boy, and you needn't
worry a bit. We'll be sure of our grub for a week, see something
of a simon-true Southern plantation, earn twenty dollars between
us, and get in great shape for business. Say, is it all right?"
Maurice, of course, declared that it was, and thereupon Thad did
one of his regular hornpipes, to the amusement of some darkies on
the shore, who began mocking him, but in a way that did not give
offense.
So that night they made arrangement with the man Mr. Buckley
recommended to have him keep their boat in his care, along with
the yellow dog.
In the morning they again bade farewell to their comfortable
floating home for a brief time, and meeting the planter, joined
him in a ride to the interior where his plantation was located.
Mr. Simon Buckley was a character very interesting to Maurice.
He had been something of a soldier of fortune since the Civil War
and drifted pretty much around the whole world, so that he was a
walking encyclopedia of knowledge upon almost any subject.
What interested Maurice most of all was his association with Uncle
Ambrose in Cuba many years before. It was with considerable
surprise that the lad learned how his steady-going relative had
once upon a time been a wild blade, an adventurer as it were,
ready to take up with anything that promised excitement, and a
hope of gain in a fairly decent way.
Simon Buckley had been very fond of Anthony, it would seem, and
his delight at running across a nephew of his old comrade was
unmistakable.
The voyagers had never met with a luckier bit of fortune than when
Thad chanced to interview this veteran.
Mr. Buckley had long ago settled down to a humdrum life as a
planter, having wedded the daughter of a big man in the parish.
When the old spirit of turbulence grew too strong within him to
resist lie had to work it off by a bear hunt in the Mississippi
canebrakes, or perhaps a lynching bee--he did not state this
latter positively, but there was something in the wink he gave the
boys while speaking of such things that told them the truth.
They were too wise to think of starting an argument with a
Southern man upon a subject of which they had a very small amount
of information, and which entered upon his daily life, so they
said nothing while he was present.
That ride was one long to be remembered, for they saw things that
might never have come under their observation otherwise.
Various plantations were passed, and collections of negro cabins,
around which hosts of youngsters were playing, as free from care
as the rabbit that ran across the road--indeed, much more so, for
Bunny had to look sharp lest he afford a meal for one of his many
enemies, while these pickaninnies had their daily wants supplied,
and grew up like so many puppies.
Along about noon they reached their destination.
The Buckley plantation was well known in that section as one of
the best in western Mississippi.
Of course, the main staple was cotton, king of the South; but
there were various other products that the owner raised. He had a
grinding mill and produced a large amount of sugar and molasses in
season. Then on some lowlands he grew rice of a superior quality.
His ambition being to constantly improve on what had been produced
the preceding season, his experience all over the world proved of
value to him now, when he could calmly review what he had seen and
profit by it.
The place seemed an ideal Southern plantation to Maurice, and he
soon wished he had a camera along with which to secure some views
that he could carry with him wherever he went. As the owner had a
weakness that way, the want was supplied before they had been
there two days, and when the tune came to depart, lo, Maurice had
a dozen or two pictures in his possession to show "Old Ambrose,"
as the planter said.
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