After a few minutes, Manny turned to Tom and said as he cupped his ear, “Hear that?”
Tom strained but heard nothing.
“That time?” the engine man said.
Tom thought he did, and then, ever so slightly, a ship’s whistle came wafting over the river.
Manny smiled. “It’s the call of a lady comin’ a courtin’. She’s wooing all that can hear her, Tom. She’s a devil in disguise. She takes men away from their womenfolk and she makes women jealous of her freedom to wander.” He looked out at the horizon and Tom saw she had Manny captivated.
The whistle grew louder and then a speck appeared on the horizon. A small three-piece band started playing ragtime and the people were making a party of it.
We can’t lose this, Tom thought watching them, we just can’t.
Finally the Natchez docked and the crowd watched the passengers coming off. The observers remarked about the way they dressed and their mannerisms.
Tom nodded to himself, As I thought, besides cotton and other goods, the ships also bring news and the latest styles from other ports of call. Something for everyone.
After the boat had disgorged all its passengers, Manny turned to Tom. “Never did ask you, Tom, if you don’t mind my asking, what’s your business with the Natchez?”
Tom said, “I’m here to purchase a steamboat like the Natchez.”
“You gonna buy a steamer?” Manny asked as he removed his hat and wiped his brow. “Dang! I knew you were more than a traveler. I knew it the minute I saw you on the Keansburg. I mean, you being on the dark side of her while the landlubbers were watching the fireworks.”
“No, not really,” said Tom as he stood up. “I’m looking into purchasing a steamboat for a firm up north. I hope to get an interview and a tour with the captain of the Natchez.” Manny slapped his back. “Ha! You are a lucky fellow. Captain Richard Owens is a friend of mine. I worked his engine room many a time.”
He started up the gangplank. “Jus’ follow me.” The deckhands waved to Manny as he passed them with Tom following. He walked over to a set of stairs and went up and then another set which led to the top deck. Manny stopped and pointed up.
“He’s most probably in the wheelhouse. He’ll be writing up any discrepancies that showed up in the Natchez as she came downriver.”
Tom squinted at him in the bright sunlight. “Discrepancies? You mean like engine trouble or something?”
Manny shrugged his shoulders. “Never know what’ll show up. Slipping gears, low water pressure from a slow pump. Anything can show up. Ol’ Rich will write it up and have the dockworkers fix it if need be.” He turned and climbed up the last few steps. He knocked on the wheelhouse door and Tom saw Captain Richard Owens turn and smile as he recognized his friend.
The captain was a big man with longish black hair brushing the collar of his white sweat-stained uniform jacket. Of course, Tom thought, he has the standard sideburns and mustache.
The captain flung the door open and grabbed Manny in a bear hug, laughing all the while.
“Ugh! Richard! Turn me loose. You’ll squash me like a bug,” yelled Manny.
The big man relaxed his grip and still smiling said, “Samuel Clemens! I’ll be danged! I thought you were going to join up with me upriver days ago. What in dang heck are you doing here? And how in dang heck did you get here?” He squinted and said in mock outrage, “Did you ride another boat down?”
Manny looked at Tom who was in shock.
Tom mumbled, “Samuel Clemens? You’re Clemens?”
Manny turned to the captain and said, “Captain Richard Owens, this is a good ol’ boy from up north, Tom Madden. He’d like to have a chat with you. But first,” he turned back to Tom, “I have to apologize to him. Tom, many times I like nothing more than working my way from where I am to where I’m headin’. It gives me time to be alone and think. Sometimes I get some story ideas about the river or I just like to be alone takin’ care of the engines. I sort of hide my real name, ’cause if I didn’t I’d have people asking me for a story or to sign this or that. I find being alone a luxury. So when I bumped into you on deck, my name at that time was Manny. I really was working in the engine room. As I said it was just the engine and me.” He grinned. “Will you forgive me?”
Tom laughed, “Of course Mann . . . er . . . I mean Samuel. It was great seeing the other you.” Tom was embarrassed for himself. He always saw Samuel Clemens or Mark Twain as the white-haired, white-mustached older man, not the dark-haired, dark-mustached younger man he had eaten breakfast with that day.
The captain offered his hand and Tom took it.
“You have some questions for me, Mr. Madden?” He looked up at the still-rising sun. “Please, both of you come inside. It’s cooler in the shade.”
They went into the wheelhouse and Tom noticed everything was white except for the mahogany and brass rail, which ran around the entire cabin. Everything sparkled in the sunlight. He said as ran his hand over the dark wood, “It’s beautiful, Captain, really beautiful.”
Captain Owens smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Madden, it’s my home away from home and I try to take good care of her.”
“Please, Captain, call me, Tom.”
“And you sir, please call me Richard,” the captain replied.
“Now, what is it you wanted to know?”
Tom hated lying but he had to find out what had happened to the Natchez. “I’ve been authorized by a group of people in New York to purchase a steamboat. They have an idea of opening a business selling tour trips around Manhattan Island by steamboat. I suggested we model it after the Natchez. I couldn’t find a more beautiful steamboat anywhere. They agreed and sent me here with a wish list. I was hoping to get a tour of her.”
Captain Owens was grinning broadly. “Whatever you need to see, Tom, you just ask me. My ship is yours.” He turned to Clemens and said, “Now my friend, what can I do for you besides offer you a ride back north?”
Clemens gestured to the north. “Just a small trip up to Baton Rouge.” He tapped his temple and said, “Got a little story starting to firm up and need a little river time.”
“No problem, Sam. Whatever you need, you have. Dinner is with me this evening in the main dining room . . . just the three of us. Okay, gentleman?”
Tom and Clemens smiled at each other and nodded in agreement.
“Settled then,” said Owens. “Supper’s at eight and the ship’s tour is after supper.”
They took their leave and Clemens went back to get his clothes from the City of Keansburg as Tom became a tourist. He took a tour of the city in the back of a mule-pulling carriage and listened to the driver as he spoke of all the beautiful spots they passed along the way. He ate mouth-watering muffulettas for lunch along the waterfront and had a beer at a small club that featured a jazz band. He went back to his room and freshened up for supper aboard the Natchez.
The evening was cooler as he walked down toward the docks passing many well-lit stores that all seemed to have it’s own jazz group playing. When he saw the Natchez, he stopped in his tracks. She was lit up like a Christmas tree. Red, yellow, white and blue lights glowed through colored-glass lanterns all around the gleaming white boat. Tom approached the gangplank and saw four deck hands, all dressed in white. They greeted him with wide smiles, and one led the way to the center of the main deck. He opened the doors and light music drifted out as Tom stepped onto a highly polished wood floor. By a small mahogany bar, he saw Richard and Clemens having a drink. Both were dressed in white, Richard in his uniform and Clemens in a three-piece suit with a black string tie. His outfit matched Tom’s. In the corner a three-piece band played softly. The bartender was an older man with white hair who smiled at him as he approached the men.
Richard shook hands with Tom, as did Clemens.
“Welcome to the Natchez, Tom,” said the captain. “What’s your drink?”
“What would you suggest?” Tom asked the bartender.
The old man smiled and s
aid to Owens, “Now here’s a man who knows how to get the best out of a man. Jus’ let him do his job.” He looked at Tom with a twinkle in his eye and said, “I think you should have one of my ‘Missin' the Mississippi’ specials. Yessir, thought it up myself. ’Cause I can’t tell you what’s in it.” He smiled and said in a low voice, “Secret stuff.”
He finished shaking the drink and poured it into a tall glass garnished with a slice of orange and topped with a cherry. Handing it to Tom, he said, “Try this, sir.”
Tom took the drink and held it up as a toast, saying, “Cheers, gentlemen.” They all sipped their drinks and Tom whistled. “Whew! That’s a beauty.”
Richard smiled. “Jerry sure knows his stuff. Now let’s eat. I’m famished.”
They went over to a table and were grandly served by the staff. The dinner started with lettuce, tomato and cucumber salad topped with a bittersweet sauce and warm crushed bacon chips. This was followed by a chilled soup and sourdough bread with warmed butter. Baked catfish was the main course along with small, baked potatoes garnished with garlic and cloves and a side of carrots and black-eyed peas. Then it was Key lime pie and coffee.
“Richard Owens,” Clemens said, pushing back his chair, “that meal was fit for a king. I’m gonna have to put that in one of my novels.”
Richard looked pleased and said, “Glad you liked it, but it’s all in the hiring of the right people. As Jerry said, let them do what they do best and the rewards will be plentiful.” He raised his coffee cup. “To the crew of the Natchez.”
Tom and Clemens joined in, “To the crew.”
Richard looked at Tom and said, “So what is it you’d like to see, Tom?”
“Well Richard, pretty much the whole ship, but especially the engine room. I don’t pretend to know a lot about steamboats so I’ll have to rely on you to show me what you would look for in a boat.”
Richard stood up. “Okay then, the engine room first. It’s time to walk off that supper anyhow.” He turned to Clemens, “You going to join us, Sam?”
“Wouldn’t miss a trip to a steamer’s engine room for anything,” he answered.
They followed the captain down wooden stairs to the second deck then down a flight of steel stairs to the engine room. There was a steady throbbing of an engine and Tom saw a few men studying gauges and an open coal bin. He was surprised at the cleanliness of the room and the size of it. It seemed to run the entire length of the boat and was filled with nine engines and boilers.
“We have just one engine up right now,” said Richard. “No sense in running more as we just need to keep some steam up in case we need to move her on short notice. Besides, if they were all lit, you couldn’t hear me talk.”
Clemens was running his hand over a highly polished steel boiler. “She’s a beauty, Tom. You couldn’t have picked a better model for your northern friends.” Richard nodded and said, “She can do eleven knots and carry up to 220 tons in payload and still carry 125 passengers.”
He’s a proud owner, Tom thought, and then asked, “Who built her?”
“Crosby Shipping. They’re based in Baton Rouge, just upriver a piece. I’d suggest you have your steamer built there, too. They really know their business. Plus they do overhaul and maintenance. I just had Natchez touched up a few weeks ago up there.”
“I don’t know how to ask this,” Tom said, “but I read that there have been some pretty big explosions aboard steamboats. What causes that?”
Richard shook his head. “Hard to tell. Poor maintenance maybe. Cheap parts put in during an overhaul. There are some low scalawags selling poorly made parts to an unsuspecting engine man.”
“An engine man who doesn’t know his stuff,” put in Clemens.
Richard nodded. “Right you are, Sam. And I like to think I have the best engine man.” He looked at Clemens with a grin. “I mean, the second best engine man on the river, Mr. Sylvester Boyce.”
Clemens smiled, “Right you are. Sly’s the best engine man on the river.”
They were walking down the row of engines and boilers. “What about the pressure-relief valves?” Tom asked, as he looked up at the eight-inch-long, tubular valves, one on top of each boiler. “They look good. Nice and shiny. Do they get inspected periodically?”
Clemens grabbed hold of a ladder permanently attached to the side of each boiler and easily climbed to the top. He looked down at Tom and motioned. “Come on up, Tom. If you’re gonna buy a boat, you have to learn what to look for.”
Tom went up the ladder as Richard watched. Clemens fingered the pressure-relief valve on top of boiler three and said, “If this engine was lit, we’d lose some skin doing this.” He looked into the mouth of the valve. “You have to remember the boat lives in a water environment. Even if she looks clean and shiny, her insides can be rusted shut. A good engine man will run his finger inside to see if she’s as clean inside as she is on the outside. Now, a poor engine man will sometimes overlook the innards of the valve. Because he knows if it’s starting to rust up, he’s gonna have to take it apart. That will keep the boat in port, and a boat in port is a boat not making any money.” He paused as he ran his finger in the opening of the valve. “This valve feels like it’s brand new.”
“It is,” said Richard, as he climbed up next to them. “I had them replaced two weeks ago.” He looked at Tom. “In fact, Tom, if you want to see the boat in its entirety, come up to my cabin.” He started back down and a puzzled Tom followed.
They went up to the captain’s cabin on the main deck. It was a spacious mahogany and brass room. It had a table and chairs to sit six, a nice size bunk and a private washroom complete with a porcelain washbasin with running hot and cool water. In one corner was a large flat file with eight drawers. A picture over the bunk showed Richard and his wife holding a little child.
Richard looked at the photo. “Gertrude and little Gert,” he said proudly. “She’s two now.”
Tom smiled. “She’s beautiful, Rich. You have to be proud.” The captain nodded as he walked over to the large flat file. “Now, let me show you the ship,” he said pulling open a flat file drawer. He unrolled a set of blueprints and flattened one out on top of the file. “You can take this up to New York, Tom. It has everything any buyer would need to know. I have another set at home.” He then took out a notebook. “Here’s my maintenance book, too. It has all her upkeep and time in the overhaul yard. I can’t let you take this, but you can copy it if you wish. That’s pretty much the entire boat right before you. And, I might add, she’s the most modern boat on the river.”
“Heard you got some new planks, too,” said Clemens as he lit a cigar.
“Yep! That I did. Planks, brass fittings, new insulation for the piping, new chain for the number two anchor . . . sunken tree stump fouled the last one. Got a new set of pumps, new coal burning stove for the cook and even installed a men’s washroom. Getting a new women’s washroom next time we stay over at Baton Rouge. You can see we stay on top of things, Tom. We have to. ’Cause like Sam said, the water will bring everything down to her if we let her.”
Clemens looked at his pocket watch and said, “Eleven fifteen,” snapping it closed. I got to get me some sleep.” Patting his stomach, he said to Richard, “Rich, I owe you one. This was a great supper and tour. Are you sailing tomorrow?”
“I have to make a quick run up to Baton Rogue in the morning. Got to drop off a piece of machinery for their cotton mill.” He looked at Tom. “Come along, Tom. The machine will be loaded by nine and we sail at ten sharp. We go upriver a few miles to drop it off and come right back. What do you say?”
Tom had a grin from ear to ear. “You bet. I’ll be here at ten,” he said, as he offered his hand to the captain. “Thanks for a great supper and tour.” He held up the notebook. “I’ll copy and return this as soon as I can.”
The time traveler left and walked up the street to his hotel. He looked back and saw history sitting at the dock. Wow, he thought, the things I can’t talk about. This is
fantastic! He walked into the hotel and slept a deep sleep.
Early the next morning Tom had breakfast in the hotel restaurant and was at the Natchez by nine-thirty. He was watching the dockworkers load some machinery on the flat deck up front as a small, heavyset man greeted him with a tip of his cap.
“Good morning, sir. Cap’n says jus’ go right on up.”
Tom smiled and nodded as he went over to the stairs. He reached the top and Richard and Clemens greeted him.
“Good morning, Tom. Try this,” the captain said handing him a mug of coffee. “No chicory in it. I like my coffee to taste like coffee.”
Clemens smiled at him. “I spliced mine with a touch of rum, Tom. I like my coffee to taste like coffee-flavored rum.”
They laughed as the captain said; “I’m not letting you steer her today.”
The man from the deck came up the stairs. “All’s set, Cap’n. Got three boilers fired up for whenever you say go.”
The captain nodded and answered, “Very well, Mr. Boyce. Untie her and we’ll get on upriver.”
The man put a finger to his cap in a salute of sorts and ran back down and shouted the order to five deckhands.
Richard put on his white cap and turned to his visitors. “You gentlemen are invited into my wheelhouse, if you wish.”
Tom followed Sam into the room. A sailor stood at the large wheel and Richard patted his shoulder. “Make off easy, Mr. Lawrence. The mud might be a bit high today and we may churn up some bottom sludge.” He turned to Tom and said, “Don’t want to raise mud all over her stern.”
The deckhands cast off and Boyce disappeared down to the engine room. Tom and Sam stood to the side as the captain called down the speaking tube,
“Ahead one-third, Mr. Boyce.”
Tom felt a slight shudder and watched as the paddles at the rear of the ship slowly started to turn. The color of the water went from a deep blue to a muddy brownish-blue.
Time Travel Adventures of the 1800 Club. Book III Page 5
