by Oliver Optic
CHAPTER I.
IN CAPTAIN BOOMSBY'S SALOON.
"I don't think it's quite the thing, Alick," said my cousin, OwenGarningham, as we were walking through Bay Street after our return toJacksonville from the interior of Florida.
"What is not quite the thing, Owen?" I inquired, for he had given me noclue to what he was thinking about.
"After I chartered your steamer for a year to come here, and go up theMississippi River--by the way, this river is called 'The Father ofWaters,' isn't it?" asked Owen, flying off from the subject in hismind, as he was in the habit of doing.
"Every schoolboy in this country learns that from his geography," Ireplied.
"Happily, I was never a schoolboy in this country, and I didn't find itout from the geography. If the Mississippi is the Father of Waters, canyou tell me who is the mother of them?"
"The Miss'ouri."
"O, ah! Don't you feel faint, Captain Alick?" added Owen, stoppingshort on the sidewalk, and gazing into my face with a look of mockanxiety.
"Not at all; I think I could swallow a burly Briton or two, if theoccasion required."
"Don't do it! It would ruin your digestion. But it strikes me those tworivers are but one."
"I think so, too, and they ought to be. Father and mother--man andwife--ought to be one," I answered, as indifferently as I could. "Butsomething was not quite the thing; and if there is anything in thiscountry that is not quite the thing, I want to know what it is."
"When I chartered the Sylvania to come down here, and then go up the'Father of Waters,' it isn't quite the thing for your father to declarethe whole thing off at this point of the cruise," replied Owen. "I wasgoing to have a jolly good time going up the river."
"You may have it yet, for I have given you a cordial invitation to go'up the river' with me; and I mean every word I said about the matter,"I added, in soothing tones.
"But your father says the charter arrangement is ended, and you may gowhere you like in your steamer."
"And I concluded at once to carry out all the arrangements for thistrip, just as we made them at Detroit," I replied. "I have invited theShepards and the Tiffanys to join us, and everything will go on just asit did before, except that you will not pay the bills."
"Which means that, if I join you at all, I shall not be myself,"returned Owen, with a look of disgust. "In other words, I shall not bemy own master, and I must go where my uncle and you may choose to takeme."
"Not at all; we are going up the Mississippi simply because that is theroute you selected, and because I desire to carry out your plan oftravel to the letter," I replied, rather warmly. "I don't think I coulddo anything more to meet your views than I have done."
"You are as noble, grand, magnanimous, as it is possible for any fellowto be, Alick; but that don't make me any more willing to be underobligations to you every day of my life."
"You need feel under no obligations to me."
"Ah, but I do, you see; and I still think it was not just the thing tobreak away from the written agreement we made," continued Owen, unableto conceal his vexation.
"I think you ought not to say another word in that line of remark,Owen. A contract to do anything fraudulent is void from the beginning.Do you remember for what purpose you chartered the Sylvania?"
"If you won't say another word about it, Alick, I won't!" exclaimed mycousin, extending his hand to me, which I immediately grasped.
"I won't, unless you drive me to it," I replied. "I have not remindedyou of what occurred while we were coming South, and I never will, forI think Carrington was the villain of the drama, and not you."
"You are right, Alick; and you are the best fellow that ever lived!"protested Owen. "But I would like to pay my share of the expenses ofthe cruise from this day, as I have done before. I shall feel betterabout it if I do."
"I will speak to my father about that. I am sure I don't object to yourpaying your share," I answered. "I am willing to carry out theagreement just as we made it; but my father takes a different view ofthe subject."
"I know he does, and I can't blame him," replied Owen. "He means simplyto say that his son shall be under no obligations to me, after what hashappened."
"Let us say nothing more about this matter, Owen," I added; "it is nota pleasant topic to me, any more than it was to him."
"When do we sail, if I sail with you, Alick?" he asked.
"To-morrow morning; and we should be on board to-night, ready for anearly start, for we have to conform to the tide on the bar at the mouthof the river. The Tiffanys will go with us, but the Shepards have notyet accepted the invitation I gave them."
"I am going to Colonel Shepard's house now, and I will find out whetherthey are going or not," said Owen, as we came to a street leading toSt. James's Square, where Colonel Shepard's house was located.
"And I will drop into Captain Boomsby's saloon," I added.
"The beast Boomsby! Why do you go there, Alick?" demanded Owen, with alook of disgust and astonishment in his face.
"I lived with him for years, and I will just say good-by to him, for Imay never see him again. I hope I never shall, at any rate. He hasabused and wronged me, but I am willing to forgive him if he will onlykeep out of my way."
"'Pon my word, I believe you would forgive a man if he blew your brainsout, Alick?"
"If it were a matter of brains, I couldn't do it; but if I had heartenough left, I would try to forgive him if he was sorry for what he haddone."
"You forgave me, and it is easy enough for you to do the same withBeast Boomsby," added Owen, as he turned up the street to hisdestination.
I had been made the victim of a plot, and taught to believe that myfather, Sir Bent Garningham, was dead. The little steamer Sylvania wasmy own property, for I had earned it by saving the lives of heroriginal owner and his family. Pike Carrington, my father's solicitorin England, had induced the son of my father's younger brother to makean attempt to get me "out of the way."
The villain had acted more for his own interest than for that of mycousin. They had called in my old enemy Captain Parker Boomsby, andsent him to Florida in one steamer, while Owen went with me in theSylvania. My friend Robert Washburn, the mate of the steam-yacht, haddiscovered the plot, and we had been on our guard night and day to meetany treachery.
Captain Boomsby claimed me and all that I had, when he learned that myfather was dead. He had done his best to obtain the steam-yacht, buthis unfortunate habit of drinking too much whiskey had defeated hisplan. In his attempt to destroy me he had taken the life of thesolicitor.
On our voyage, "going South," we had encountered a heavy gale in theGulf of St. Lawrence. Owen Garningham, my cousin, had been swept fromthe hurricane-deck of the Sylvania by the raging sea. At the risk of myown, I had saved his life. This act had conquered him, and he no longertook any interest in the plan to destroy me, if he had ever thought ofanything so bad as this. He became my strong friend, and had no furtherdesire to rob me of my father's estate, or to obtain the title, forwhich he cared more than I did.
The Shepards were a family we first met at a regatta in PortlandHarbor. Owen had become deeply interested in Miss Edith, the daughter,and, at his invitation, the family had come most of the way to Floridain the steamer. We had been up the Ocklawaha River to Lake Griffin, andup the St. Johns as far as any steamer could go. My father, who hadleft me at college in Montomercy, to attend to his affairs in England,had been called to India on business. His absence was the opportunityfor the conspirators, and they destroyed our letters.
When I learned that my father was not dead, I had written to him. Hehad followed me up the St. Johns, and appeared in time to save me fromthe bullet of one of Captain Boomsby's agents. He learned the wholetruth from me, and at once cancelled the charter by which my cousinOwen was to have the use of the steamer for a year, one half of whichhad now expired.
The Tiffanys were father and daughter, whom the crew of the Sylvaniahad saved from a fire at St. Augustine. The gentleman was an
intimatefriend of my father, who requested him to see me when he visited thiscountry. His daughter Margie, if not as pretty as Edith Shepard,interested me more. As arranged before we left Detroit, we were to goup the Mississippi River. The Tiffanys had accepted the invitation tojoin us, for they were tourists for pleasure and observation.
My father was an English baronet, succeeding to the title and estatesby the death of an elder brother. He had served in the army for manyyears, and had attained the rank of major. He was better pleased to becalled by his military than by his family title, in this republicanland. But he was too proud to allow me to continue in the employ of mycousin, though he did not object to his nephew as a passenger when Idesired it. He left everything to me to manage as I pleased after hehad cancelled the charter agreement. With this abstract of previousevents my readers will be prepared to understand what is to follow.
Captain Boomsby's saloon was on Bay Street. He had a bar for the whiteand respectable customers on that street, and another in the rear fornegroes. I was never even tempted to drink any intoxicating beverages;and when he became a rumseller, I thought my tyrant had found hisproper level. His son Nick tended the front bar, while he waited uponthe negroes, who imbibed the cheapest corn-whiskey and apple-brandy bythe tumbler-full at a dram.
When I went into the saloon Captain Boomsby was seated in the rear ofthe room, where he had a view of both bars. He was at least half "full"himself. He was badly bloated, and his face was red and almosthoneycombed with toddy-blossoms.
"Well, Sandy, what do you want now?" demanded the saloon-keeper, when Icame into his presence. He did not call me "Alick," as others did, butstill used the name by which I had been known when he took me from thepoor-house in the State of Maine.
"Nothing, Captain Boomsby; only we sail to-morrow, and I thought Iwould say good-by to you, for I may never see you again," I replied.
"I never want to see you no more," growled he. "You've always behavedbad ever since I fust knowed you, and you will come to some bad endyet."
"I hope not," I said, seating myself.
"You sartin will. I took care on you when you was little, and doneeverything I could for you; but you have worked agin me from the fust."
As I seated myself I saw a customer come up to the front bar. He had apackage, which he laid upon the counter while he poured out his dram.
"I don't think it's any use for you and me to talk over these things,"I added, turning my eyes from the counter to the bloated face of myformer tyrant. "We shall not be likely to agree in regard to matters inthe past."
"You know just as well as I do that the steam-yacht you sail inrightfully belongs to me," he added.
"I think not. If she belongs to anybody besides myself, it must be tomy father."
"That man ain't your father any more'n I am."
At that moment a rather rough-looking man came into the saloon, walkedfar enough back to look into the negro bar, and then retreated.
"I think it has been fully proved that Major Garningham is my father,"I replied.
I had scarcely spoken the words, as the rough-looking visitor wasretreating without any dram, when Nick made a flying leap over thecounter, and rushed out at the street door. The gentleman with thepackage had his eyes upturned to the ceiling, in the act of drainingthe tumbler in which he had elaborately stirred up the fiery mixture.
"Nick rushed out at the street door." _Page 22._]
When Nick went over the counter the customer was startled. He saw, atthe same moment I discovered the fact, that the package he had laidupon the counter was missing. He rushed out of the saloon like a crazyman.
