"You're right, Joe. They don't give a horse's patoot about stopping booze from being funneled into the city unless one of them gets high ambitions and is trying to get promoted." Charles paused and took a sip of his coffee. "Meanwhile, they collect hush money from us every week. You can't trust people to keep their traps shut; even when you're paying them to look the other way." Charles looked Joe up and down at this point and said, "Can I trust you, Joe?"
"Yes sir," he replied. Joe sat straight and erect in the chair, trying to look taller than he was. He'd grown a lot over the last year, but puberty remained ahead of him.
"You've done a good job for us for almost a year now, Joe. Not a penny missing from the kitty every week. So Henry and I got to talking and decided we'd have you go down to Grosse Ile on the train and meet one of our boys to help acquire a little whiskey for us. We're figuring no one's gonna pay any attention to a little boy, and you can meet our man down there and hand off the dough for the booze. He'll make the deal, and you help him get it back here. Ha! Those stupid cops'll never think a father and son are smuggling across the river." Charles guffawed.
Joe however, didn't find it so amusing. "What if the cops did notice?" Joe would probably be sent to a children's home for the wayward or locked up. He wasn't really sure what they did with kids who broke the law, but he knew there'd be trouble.
"Don't look so worried, Joe. We've got a designated spot south of here to drop the load if someone's on your tail. Another guy can grab it and bring it into the city."
"What if somebody finds it?" he asked, thoroughly confused now.
"Just wait and see, it'll work out; don't worry so much, boy." Charles winked at him.
Chapter Twenty Three
The train was slowing down. Joe opened his eyes to look around. They were approaching a small wooden platform with a neat, hand-painted sign with black lettering stating that the train had arrived in Trenton. Charles had told Joe he should stay on the train and cross the river to Grosse Ile. Several passengers exited the train, and he saw only one pretty young lady get on. Her hair was cut just below her ears, and she had on the shortest dress Joe had ever seen a woman wear. Long strands of pearls fell to her waist. She laughed loudly as she greeted a male companion at the front of the car. He grabbed her waist and kissed her straight on the mouth. Joe was shocked at their behavior, but the couple didn't seem worried about the scandal they were causing. The conductor walked down the aisle toward the couple, but Joe was unable to hear what admonishments he was throwing their way. The woman didn't appear to be concerned. She laughed even louder and waved the embarrassed trainman away.
The train chugged toward the river and crossed the precariously high trestle that traversed the fast moving water. Joe was getting more and more nervous. He was carrying an immense amount of money, and he was just supposed to hand it off to some man he'd never seen and pretend he was his son? "What if the man took the money and ran off? Would Leiter believe him? Probably not. Then what—a beating? Or worse?" As the train hit land on the other side, Joe crossed himself and said a quick prayer to Saint Mary to watch over him. The engine chugged to a slow stop, and Joe grabbed the empty suitcase that Leiter had given him to carry so it would appear as if he was visiting family. He stepped off the train and found a bench by the small stone depot.
The day was gray and windy. Low clouds traveled swiftly toward Canada as Canadian geese headed in the opposite direction. Joe looked around but saw no one who appeared to be alone or searching for him. The train was boarding passengers for the return trip and soon pulled out of the small station. He sat there for half an hour thinking about the train ride and remembering how he'd dreamed of steering a mighty locomotive down the tracks the Christmas his Uncle Feliks had given him the wind-up train. Feeling conspicuous, he headed down the embankment to sit by the water and think of his next move. The grass was tall here, and an old tree lay where it had fallen, providing a seat for him. The embankment gave some relief from the gusty day.
"Thought you'd never walk down here." A thick Hungarian-accented voice startled him. A man, broad and tall, walked over to where Joe was sitting on the old tree. His cap was pulled down low, almost covering his eyes, and a thick brown beard hung raggedly off the sides of his face. Instinctively, Joe put his hand on his pocket where the cash was and then, realizing his mistake, quickly removed it. "What are you so nervous for?" the man continued stepping closer. "You're Joe, aren't ya? My little boy that's come to visit?" He laughed at Joe's frightened face.
"Yes sir, I'm Joe." His shoulders relaxed slightly as he watched the large, bearded man step over a branch and over several dead fish as he approached.
"Didn't want to meet you at the station—just in case the ticket agent was paying any mind to the passengers. Figured if I was a boy I'd wander down here by the water, so I've been just waiting here for you to do that very thing. And here you are. You're a little taller than I pictured, but you'll do I guess. Ready for a boat ride, Joe?"
"All right, but first I'd like to know one thing. What's your name?" Joe said, standing up, reaching his hand out to shake.
"You can call me Cappie." The man shook Joe's hand. "Well, now that we've been properly introduced," he said with a smirk, "grab your case. We've got a little walk ahead of us." Joe picked up the old suitcase from the dirt and followed Cappie up the embankment.
"Where we going?" he asked.
"I've got the boat tied up at the south end of the island. It's about a mile and a half from here. A little windy but whatcha gonna do?"
They climbed to the top of the embankment and headed down the dirt road next to the river. Joe walked beside Cappie, trying to calm his frayed nerves. He didn't think the combination of the wind and waves made for good boating weather, but he didn't say anything to Cappie.
"Trees sure are pretty this time of year," Joe said, making small talk to get his mind off the flips his stomach was performing.
"Yep, all sorts of colors—red, yellow, orange, purple; you should see them on a sunny day. And the squirrels and chipmunks playing in the trees and deer walking right on by you like they ain't afraid of nothing. It's a pretty island in the daylight, but it's a whole different story at night."
"Why? Are there bears or cougars?" Joe asked.
"Well, they say there were at one time—some say there still are, but I've never heard or seen one. I just meant you never know who you'll have the luck of running into in the dark," Cappie replied.
Joe wasn't concerned about who wandered around the island at night. By that time he would be safely back in his bed in the city.
"Do you live on the island," Joe asked.
"One thing you should know by now boy is not to be asking too many questions. Specially ones like where somebody lives. Won't nobody tell you the truth anyways, so it's better not to look like you're putting your nose where it don't belong." Cappie looked down at Joe as he spoke. "Relax boy. I'm just giving you a little friendly advice. I will tell you that I caught a fifteen-pound bass on the other side of the island once though. Course that was before these waters got so polluted from the city dumping sewage into it."
Gradually the light of recognition crept into Joe's brain and he realized Cappie was Vic Starboli, the man who'd pointed out landmarks as his family had ridden on the Columbia to Boblo Island. Surprised at the chance meeting, he remained silent for a few minutes, processing the information. He looked up at Cappie's eyes again, this time identifying the soft brown color with the young man he'd met years before. The memory calmed him, and his anxiety decreased even more as they continued down the gravel road. Joe had grown many inches taller since that day aboard the Columbia, and the illness had taken the baby fat from his cheeks, altering his appearance even more. Not many would have recognized him all these years later.
"What kind of boat do you have, Cappie?" Joe asked.
"I started with just a rowboat earlier this year but I've already cleared enough to buy a power boat and it's a lot easier on the arms," he
replied. "Pretty fast one too."
"And I bet it makes it easier to get away from the cops."
"Ha! Not much Coast Guard around here, Joe. And they don't go out when the weather's bad, so if a boat can handle a little tossing around, you're pretty much guaranteed to get to the other side. Now when that Volstead Act is finalized next year, the federal government is supposed to get involved. Things might get a little hairy, but I'm not too worried. In the meantime, we just run across the water like we was running across the street to get some groceries." Cappie smiled down at Joe and clapped him on the back. "You wasn't worried about getting caught, were you, boy?"
"Nah," Joe replied, knowing Cappie could see differently. They'd reached the end of the dirt road and had started down a small path in the woods. The path was new, and they had to push limbs and weeds back to make their way. The wind was mitigated by the trees here, and Joe was thankful for the break from the chilly air.
"Just a little farther," Cappie said when they reached a deep, narrow canal. They turned and walked alongside the canal toward the center of the island. "Let's see… it's about two o'clock, so we should get started right when we get to the boat. That'll give us time to load up and everything. Are you hungry?"
"I could eat" Joe replied.
"I've got sandwiches in the boat and some canned peaches. All right, here we are," he said, as they walked up to a small white house on the side of the canal. Tall trees and brush surrounded the little cottage, and no other houses were in sight. The house was new, as was the small wooden dock where a large speedboat was tied. Cappie disregarded the house and walked down to the dock. Joe followed. He jumped in the boat and told Joe to untie the ropes that were holding it to the dock. "You ever ride in a boat, Joe?" he asked.
"One time," Joe said, smiling to himself, his face turned away from Cappie as he worked at the knots.
"Good. Then you already got your sea legs."
Joe threw the ropes into the boat and clambered ungracefully down into the vessel. Cappie started the engine with a roar, startling birds from their roosts. "I been trying to figure out how to quiet that damn exhaust. Might as well shine a light up to the sky saying here I am with all this booze, but I can't get it any quieter. Good thing nobody really cares." He piloted the boat slowly down the canal toward the river.
Cappie pointed Joe to where some sandwiches were in a brown paper bag on the floor of the boat. Joe grabbed one and took a bite. Peanut butter! He'd never eaten a peanut butter sandwich before, and the stickiness in his mouth caught him off guard. Working for the Sugar House for the last year, his mother had packed him a lunch every day. He'd carried it in a small metal pail he'd had when he was attending school at St. Josaphat's. He opened the jar of peaches and grabbed the fruit with his fingers, drinking down the syrup when they were gone. Feeling better with a little food in his stomach, he turned his attention back to his surroundings. They had left the shelter of the trees and were heading out into open water now.
The wind picked up immediately, and Joe pulled his cap down further on his head to cover his ears. "It sure is a lot colder on the water," he yelled above the roar of the engine.
"Sure is," Cappie replied. "Next time you should wear a heavier coat… but don't go getting long pants yet. You want to look younger than you are for as long as you can." Next time? Joe thought. Was this going to be his new role for the Sugar House? Charlie hadn't said anything to him about a next time. Cappie turned the boat south, and they headed out into Lake Erie. The waves were crashing against the front of the boat, and it felt to Joe as if they would tear it apart. Joe sat down on the bottom to get out of the fierce wind but the waves made him bounce from one side to the other. "It's better if you stand up here with me," Cappie advised. Joe pulled himself up and held onto the wooden side rail. The wind whipped at his face and stung, but he could control his body better as he watched the waves approaching the boat.
"Sure is rough," he yelled.
"It's really not that bad today," Cappie replied. "Gets lots worse than this… course sometimes it's smooth as glass too." A boat was approaching from ahead, and Cappie slowed the engine. "Don't worry, Joe. This a friend of mine." A gray speed boat pulled up alongside of theirs and a man threw a rope for Joe to grab. "How's it going, Hatch?" Cappie called to the man.
"Busy day, Cappie. Trying for two runs today. This here's my first… lotta thirsty people over on your side of the river." Hatch smiled.
"No doubt about that," Cappie replied. "Safe sailing, Hatch. Gotta get my boy and me going. Promised him some fishing this afternoon."
"Fishing for whiskey is all you two are fishing for. Not a bad idea, Cappie. Maybe I should get a boy of my own to take fishing."
"Now Hatch, you can't be stealing all my ideas. If every bootlegger suddenly shows up with a boy in his boat, the coast guard is gonna be all over us."
"I wouldn't double-cross you like that, Cappie. I'm just playing with you. Plenty of business for everyone, I always say. Besides, I couldn't stand dragging a ragamuffin like that across the water every day." Hatch pulled the rope from Joe's hands and waved to Cappie as he accelerated away.
Cappie gunned the engine and headed toward Canada. Ragamuffin! Joe thought. I just bought these clothes last month at Kresge's. They cost me seven dollars not including shoes. Besides, Cappie and Hatch are both dressed in old fishing coats and hats, and who knows when was the last time Cappie went to a barber.
"Oh don't worry about him, Joe" Cappie said when he saw Joe looking down at his clothes. "He's just razzing you. Hatch is on the up and up."
Cappie pulled the boat into a small inlet and slowed down. A large wharf with a factory rising behind it teemed with activity, as boats pulled in and out of the area in an organized procession. A long chute carried the cargo out of the factory onto the dock, and men grabbed boxes of bottles and carried them to the boats.
"Almost forgot! I need the lettuce." Cappie looked at Joe. Joe stared blankly back at him. "The cabbage Joe. I can't have a boy paying for the hooch, can I?" It took a minute until Joe understood Cappie was talking about the money he'd brought with him. Joe reached deep into his pocket and handed the roll to him. Cappie held up his hand with all fingers extended indicating that Joe had given him five hundred dollars. Joe nodded yes, and Cappie put the roll in his front coat pocket. They waited their turn for a few minutes and pulled the speedboat next to the dock.
"Where you headed?" a short man with a clipboard asked Cappie, as they tied the boat to the side of the pier.
"Mexico," Cappie responded.
"How much?" clipboard man asked.
"Five alive," Cappie answered. The dispatcher indicated to the men standing on the dock to start loading the boat, and Cappie handed box after box labeled Pioneer Distillery to Joe to put into the cutter. It took twenty minutes to load all the whisky inside. Cappie signed for the liquor—using what name Joe didn't know—and they turned back toward Lake Erie.
"How'd you like Amherstburg, Joe?" Cappie yelled over the noise of the wind and the engine when they left Lake Erie and headed back up the river.
"Didn't see enough to know, Cappie," he responded.
"That's all I've seen of it myself, Joe." He laughed. "Pick up that fishing pole, and throw a line over the back of the boat," he said as they neared Grosse Ile. Joe grabbed a pole that had been near the sandwiches and threw the lure on the end of the line over the back end. He held the pole tight and waved at a couple other boats that passed near them. He was shivering, and his hands felt like blocks of ice. The sun was setting behind the island. They pulled into the canal as the last rays fell behind the trees. Joe slapped at a bug that landed on his cheek. "Pull your line in, Joe. There's nobody back in here."
Joe put the fishing pole back on the floor, disappointed that he hadn't accidently caught a fish, and grabbed the ropes to help tie the boat to the dock.
It took a great deal longer to unload the boat then it had loading it. Joe handed the boxes to Cappie, and he placed them
on the dock. Then they carried each box to a set of steps that led to a cellar door below the house and stacked them in the corner of the basement.
"Let's cook up something to eat. Being on the water makes a man ravenous," Cappie said, when they had stacked the last box. Darkness blanketed the night when they emerged from the cellar. Cappie bolted the door. They went around to the front of the house and went in. The older man lit a lamp hanging by the door, and Joe could see the interior of the one-room cottage. A wood-burning stove and a stack of logs sat on the wall closest to him. The house had no kitchen per se, but a table and three chairs sat near the stove and a small icebox was pushed up against the opposite wall. There was a small wooden cupboard with a few dishes and cups. A metal bed sat in the corner. Conspicuously feminine flowered curtains hung from the windows.
Cappie reached in the icebox and pulled out some eggs, bacon, and a loaf of bread. "Can't serve you anything fancy, Joe, but you don't look too picky to me." He grabbed a heavy skillet and fired up the stove.
"I'll cook, Cappie," Joe said, grabbing the eggs off the table. "How many you want?"
"I'll have five eggs and three slices of hog… you sure you know how to cook?"
"Sure I do. Got any butter?"
"I think there's a little in the icebox. I'll go check over the boat and fill her up while you're cooking us supper." He headed out the door.
Cappie returned fifteen minutes later, and they sat down to eat. Joe found two forks and a knife in a drawer in the cupboard and placed them on the table. Cappie brought two soda pops from the boat, and they drank them with their meal. After they finished, Cappie showed Joe where to draw some water to wash the dishes. He finished in minutes, grabbed his suitcase, and went around to the cellar to find Cappie.
"Why you got your case?" he asked Joe, looking up as Joe came in.
"I thought we'd be heading back now."
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