Bobby Blake on a Plantation; Or, Lost in the Great Swamp
Page 12
CHAPTER XII
UNDER SUNNY SKIES
It was early one morning that the ship warped into her berth at NewOrleans. The three friends were up bright and early, as they knew thatthe steamer would dock shortly after dawn, and they did not want to missany of the excitement of the event. The big wharves were swarming withnegro stevedores, who joked and sang good-naturedly as they shifted hugebales of cotton and boxes containing all manner of goods. Ships alreadyat their docks, either loading or unloading, sent up puffs of steam astheir cargo winches lifted huge nets full of barrels and boxes from theseemingly inexhaustible holds, or consigned them to the same place. Muleteams, horse teams, and big rumbling automobile trucks came and went,getting in each other’s way and giving rise to short but forcefularguments on the part of their drivers. In a word, all the varied bustleand activity of a large and busy port was spread out for the boys toview from their vantage point on the upper deck.
On the dock for which they were heading, a group of negro laborers waswaiting for the vessel to be made fast, and suddenly one of them starteda spirited “buck and wing” dance, the others singing, whistling, andkeeping time by clapping their hands. As the ship crept up to the dockat a snail’s pace, many of the passengers crowded over to the starboardside, where the boys were standing, and when the perspiring dancerfinally ended with a double shuffle and a bow, he was rewarded by ashower of coins that rained down from the side of the ship which was nowbeing warped up to the dock and made fast.
“Some pep to that boy,” commented Fred. “You’d think they’d save theirenergy for the work ahead of them.”
“Oh, a negro always has time and energy for a little fun, no matter howhard he has to work,” replied Lee. “I’ve seen them dancing and cuttingup after a long day of cotton picking, and that’s about as hard work asI know anything about.”
But there was no longer much time to spend on the deck, for now thegangplank had been shot out and the passengers were beginning to streamover it. This reminded the boys that they also had some strapping andbundling to do, and they rushed to their stateroom and got to work. In afew minutes all their packing had been done, and with warm good-bys tothe officers and many of the passengers, with whom they had becomefavorites, they left the steamer.
“Seems like an old friend, already,” commented Bobby, as they walkedalong the pier. “I don’t wonder that sailors fall in love with theirships.”
“I suppose any place begins to seem like home after you’ve been therefor a while,” replied Fred. “But as for me give me terra cotta everytime.”
“Terra firma I suppose you mean,” laughed Lee.
“Let it go at that,” said Fred carelessly. “What’s one word more or lessbetween friends?”
A stalwart young negro was lying on a bale of cotton, basking like a catin the hot sun. The leader of a gang of roustabouts came hurrying alonglooking for men.
“Got a job for you, Sam,” he said. “This steamer’s got to be unloaded ina 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 anothernap, “but dat war yesterday. Ah made two bits dis mornin’, an now Ah gotmoney in mah pocket. Go ’way, man, an’ let me sleep.”
With a gesture of disgust the other hurried away to look for more likelymaterial. The boys looked at each other and laughed.
“You see from that what we’re up against down here,” said Lee. “That’sthe way most of them are. As long as they have money enough for theirnext meal, they’re perfectly satisfied. That man with a few cents in hispockets 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 heartymeal. Then they spent a little while roaming about the beautiful andbusy city, so different in many respects from what Bobby and Fred badbeen accustomed to in the North. They were especially interested inviewing the spot where, behind cotton bales, Andrew Jackson and his menhad held off the flower of the British Army and won the most notablevictory 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 totake doesn’t bother much about timetables. Still there’s no use intaking chances.”
His conjecture was correct, for although they got to the station ontime, it was some time after the scheduled hour when the wheezy oldengine pulled out of the depot. And after it got started it rambled onin a careless, happy-go-lucky way, as though it did not care much whenit got to its destination.
It was a mixed freight and passenger train. There were perhaps a dozenfreight 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 ofrust and a right of way.”
Most of the stations at which the train stopped were small ones, butthere were one or two of respectable size. When the train came to a haltat these, there were usually several negro women who walked along theside of the passenger car, offering their wares to the travelers. Theirchief stock in trade was fried chicken, and this smelled so good thatthe boys bought repeatedly, until Fred at last declared that he’d beashamed after that to look a chicken in the face.
“You want to save room, fellows,” remonstrated Lee. “My mother will havea corking good supper waiting for us, and she’ll want to see you put itaway.”
“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 atthe table and trust us to do the rest.”
Both Bobby and Fred were impressed by the leisurely way in which lifeseemed to flow on in the various places through which they passed. Eventhe soft haze in the atmosphere was suggestive of rest and quiet. In thelittle towns, dogs lay in the dust in the middle of the road, not at alldisturbed by the fear of being run over. Merchants in their shirtsleeves sat in front of their stores, with chairs tilted back,exchanging gossip with farmers, who had come in with their produce andwere in no hurry to get back. Even the people coming toward the stationto take the train sauntered along with no fear of being left. Some ofthem stopped to chat with the engineer, who leaned against the side ofhis cab, chewing a straw and showing in every movement that time was thelast thing in the world that could bother him. Then after a while hewould get up in his seat, and the train would begin to move, with muchwheezing 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 youthink so. But we’ve only two more stations now before we come toRaneleigh. That’s the nearest station to the plantation.”
“Do we have far to walk to get to your place?” asked Fred, as he viewedtheir 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. Ican see where I melt into a grease spot.”
“Hold your horses,” said Lee. “You won’t have to walk a step. One of themen will be at the station with a buckboard and a pair of mules. Everridden in a buckboard?”
“Yes,” replied Fred, “many a time out on the ranch. But I’ve neverridden behind mules. Do they step fast?”
“Not that you could notice,” grinned Lee. “Their strong point is instanding fast. Once in a while we have to build a fire under one of themto get it to budge. You’ll kno
w a good sight more about mules than youdo now when you go back to school.”
“School!” groaned Fred. “What’s the use of spoiling a perfectly good dayby talking about school. We’ll have to go back soon enough. Let’s forgetit while we’re here.”
In less than an hour they were approaching Raneleigh, and Bobby and Fredcraned their necks in order to get a glimpse of the town. All they sawhowever as the train lumbered up to the platform was a general store,that stood opposite the station, and three or four dwellings locatedirregularly along a dusty street.
“As a matter of fact it isn’t a town at all, only a station,” explainedLee, as he led the way out on the platform. “Ah, there’s Jim!” heexclaimed, 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 tosee you-all.”
“These are my friends, Bobby Blake and Fred Martin,” said Lee, as hepiled the bags in the back of the buckboard. “They’ve come down to stayawhile 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 waza comin’. We sho’ will try ter give dem er mighty good time.”