Chapter 11

Returning home by way of Eastport, Mr. Sherwood took passage in a vessel bound for Londonderry, a small seaport on the Bay of Fundy, and from there he travelled by stage to Truro, where he took the train for Halifax.

While on the train an incident took place which, while affording amusement for the passengers, led to after-results that were quite surprising to the Sherwoods.

It seems that a countryman, hailing from Prince Edward Island, had accompanied the vessel in which he had shipped the surplus oats and potatoes that had grown on his farm, and the vessel had arrived in Halifax a few days previously. This being his first trip "abroad," he had determined to see all the sights which the city of Halifax afforded while he waited for the vessel to discharge her cargo and prepare for the return trip to Charlottetown.

His innocent air soon attracted the attention of some sharpers, or "confidence men," as they would have been termed in a later day, and thinking he had met the "gentry for shure" in the well-dressed scamps that were so friendly to him, the countryman willingly accompanied them to an uptown resort, where he was treated to drugged liquor, and then robbed of the tidy sum that the sale of his produce had brought him. Then, adding insult to injury, they had taken him to the depot, and, placing a ticket for Truro in his hatband, they put him on board the cars and left him to his fate.

He was put off the train at Truro in a dazed condition, and passed the night in some out-of-the-way corner of the freight house, where he slept off the effect of the liquor.

His alarm and astonishment when he came to himself and found he was alone and in a strange place, and with empty pockets, was both painful and ludicrous to witness. His distress seemed all the greater in that he had not the faintest idea where he was or how to get back to his vessel waiting alongside the wharf in Halifax.

It took some time to make his story understood, but when it became known to the men about the depot they gave him a good breakfast, and determined to get him "dead-headed" to the city, as the farmer felt sure he could easily find the thieves and recover his money if he once got back to Halifax. He had never seen a train of cars in his life, being too drunk the night before to know how he was travelling; so when the train steamed into the depot next morning, after announcing its approach by ear-splitting shrieks, he dropped out of sight behind a pile of boxes, thinking that some wild creature was let loose upon the streets. Before he could collect his scattered senses he was seized by strong hands and stowed away in a corner of a freight car, where, upon bags of potatoes, he was told to "sit down and keep out of sight." For the first few miles he literally obeyed the injunction, for he shook and trembled with fright, and with every shriek of the engine he ducked his head, thinking his very life was in danger; but as time went by and he still found himself whole and uninjured, he took courage, and sat up and looked about him as well as the dim and close car would permit. By and by the motion of the car caused the door to slide open a few inches, for, fortunately or unfortunately, the door had been left unlocked, so he crawled cautiously forward and peered through the opening, wondering greatly at the frightful speed of the "animal" that was drawing them along, but he concluded that it was "michty encouragin'," for at the pace they were going he would soon be within reach of the rascals who had emptied his pockets.

Not content to let well enough alone, he disregarded the injunction given him to "stay there," and when the train stopped for a few minutes at Shubenacadie, a station on the line, he stepped out on the platform to have a look about him; but not being quick or daring enough to step back on the moving train, he came very near losing his ride.

Fortunately, one of the train hands who had befriended him at first, saw him as the train moved along, and pulled him aboard the second-class car as it passed them.

Having previously been stowed away among the freight, he had no idea of the accommodation for travellers behind him, and the sight of so many people, sitting quietly on the seats, filled him with awe.

But the good-natured brakeman now drew him inside the car, intending to place his wandering friend back into his former quarters as soon as the train stopped at the next station.

When the eyes of the countryman had taken in the scene, the thought immediately suggested itself that this must be some sort of a meeting-house or chapel that was travelling along.

He stood for a few minutes regarding the people before him; then turning a solemn face to the brakeman asked, in a properly subdued voice, as became the situation:

"Is there preachin' here the day?"

Not comprehending the meaning of this question, but thinking the countryman meditated a religious attack on those who were present, the brakeman replied:

"Not to-day; these are good Catholics."

"Ye dinna tell me!" and his eyes and mouth expanded in surprise. "An' are they repeatin' their prayers?" he innocently asked.

"Oh, yes, everyone of them," was the reply.

"Then let me oot o' this!" he cried, reaching for the door. "It's to Halifax I want to go, so open the door an' let me oot o' this."

"There! sit down and be quiet, or you'll get put out fast enough," replied the brakeman, giving the man a shove into the seat. "You sit still where you are, mind, or you'll get into trouble," he added, as he turned to attend to his duties outside.

Here was his chance. Our friend from the country felt that he was in trouble already. He had no intention of joining the worshippers, for he was a member of the good old Scotch Kirk; so he opened the car-door, and stepped out to the platform outside.

The swift, sidelong jerks almost took him off his feet. Grasping the hand-rail, and looking around for some means of escape, he cautiously stepped across into the better furnished first-class car behind.

"Bless me, but I'm in luck!" was his inward comment, as he beheld the comfortable seats. Taking the first empty one, he sank down on the cushions with evident delight shining from his eyes at his blissful surroundings.

But the argus-eyed conductor soon spied him, and not recognizing him as a ticket-holder, swooped down upon him at once.

"Your ticket, sir."

"The same to yersel', ma frien'!" was the courteous reply, thinking this some new form of salutation.

"Here! no nonsense! where's your ticket? let's see where you're going."

"Weel, sir, I'm hopin' to get to Halifax some time 'fore long. We seem to be gaun as the craws flee, so nae doot we'll soon get there. Does this--er--buildin'--stop there for victuals or--or onythin'?"

The conductor, thinking him out of his mind, said more mildly:

"Who came with you? Who is looking after you aboard the cars?"

"Oh! a nice young chiel yonder; but he left me alane there, so I stepped oot withoot his kennin' an' popped in here."

"Ah, yes; just so. I've no doubt there is a spare room in one of the public institutions awaiting you. What sort of a looking man has you in charge?"

"Oh! he's a clever young chiel, wi' a door-plate on his bonnet; the sexton, I tak' it."

Not making much out of this information, the conductor left him to make inquiries ahead, tapping his forehead significantly to some passengers near, who had overheard the conversation, and who, as soon as the conductor was out of sight, began to question the "harmless lunatic."

His answers to their inquiries were not more clear than those the conductor had elicited, and Mr. Sherwood, who sat a few seats behind, becoming indignant at the rude jokes that were being made at the expense of the unfortunate man, stepped forward to interfere.

Surely he had seen the man before. He gazed at the man's distressed face, but could not place him.

"What's the trouble, my friend?" he asked, sitting down in the seat behind and leaning over to speak to him.

"I'm shure I dinna ken, sir, at a', at a'. There's a mistak' afloat somewhere. I never was in sic a fix afore. This is a queer kintry, I tak' it."

"Where are you from?"

That question set him on the right track at once. He could tell his story if once he started at the beginning, though he found it impossible to make these strangers comprehend his present dilemma; so beginning from the time he left his own dooryard with the last cartload of potatoes, he gave them a detailed account of his wanderings up to the time when he met the fine young gentlemen in Halifax. But he had no idea how he got to Truro; that was all a blank to him. When Mr. Sherwood explained that the train on which he was riding was a public conveyance which went back and forth daily to carry passengers and freight, he could scarcely believe it. His own explanation seemed the more plausible, for did it not agree with what the young sexton told him? He had been befooled once too often to listen to the many explanations of those around him.

But the conductor now appeared, having found out all there was to tell about the man, and feeling annoyed at his mistake, now demanded of the countryman either his ticket or his fare, and threatened to put him off the train at the next station if he did not produce either the one or the other.

"But, ma guid man, I haena a copper aboot me, or it's wullin' enough I'd be to gie ye a shullin' or so for this fine drive."

"Well, off you get then the next time we stop."

"But shurely ye wadna be pittin' a puir man oot o' yer waggon, or chapel, or whatever ye ca' it, whan there's sae mony empty pews? I'm no croodin' onyane, an' I'm wullin' enough to sit onywhere."

"We don't take people on the cars for nothing," said the conductor, decidedly. "If you can't pay, you can't ride."

"Weel, it's the rich anes that's aye the stingiest, shure enough," replied the man, more to himself than to the brass-buttoned figure before him. "But ye widna fin' the like o' yersel' owre in ma kintry, let me tell ye! The puirest farmer widna refuse to gie a stranger a lift if he was gaun the same way as himsel', even if it was only a kairt that he had, an' it loaded to the brim."

"Can't help it," replied he of the buttons, with a grin. "Off you get at the next station, or we'll put you off without ceremony."

"But I'll no gang aff, if I may be sae bold as to tell ye!" said the now angry farmer. "Ye took me to Truro against ma wull, for why did I want to gang to a place that I never heard o' afore; so, then, ye'll tak' me back to Halifax again, wullin' or no, an' whan I get my money back I'll sen' ye the price o' the drive. If ye think I'm croodin' the gentlemen, I'll gang oot an' sit on the steps o' yer backdoor, but, guidness only kens! there seems room enough in these empty pews for a dizzen o' ma size."

"Here, conductor, I'll pay the man's fare," said Mr. Sherwood, who had listened to the conversation with ill-concealed amusement.

This being satisfactory to the conductor, the man was allowed to keep his seat in peace, and, engaging him in conversation, Mr. Sherwood discovered that he had been the guest of the man's brother during one of his trips to Prince Edward Island. His home was on the north side of the island, and the farm of Roderick McDonald was well known as one of the best-paying places on the "Garden of the St. Lawrence."

On finding that the man beside him was the Yankee horse-buyer, Mr. McDonald rose and shook his hand with a warmth that showed his pleasure at the meeting.

This unexpected kindness from one whom he had learned to consider as a man of unlimited means and unusual smartness, quite set him up in his own estimation.

He began to feel quite elated at his present position, and felt himself a hero as he related to the attentive strangers the many strange things he had seen since he left home, quite ignoring the fact that some of his listeners might have been "abroad" as well as himself.

But it was impossible to put a damper on this loquacious countryman, even though he loudly set forth his own ignorance.

"Oh! but I'm a great traveller!" said he. "There's nae kennin' hoo mony miles I've travelled since I left ma hame on the north side o' the Islan'! Let's see; it's thirty miles frae there to the toon, an' it tak's a hale day to cover the distance wi' a loaded kairt o' tawties, let me tell ye! Then, whan we were snug aboard the vessel, guidness only kens hoo mony miles we went afore we cam' fornenst the city o' Halifax, for we were three days on the michty ocean, at the mercy o' ony storm that micht come alang unawares. Yes, indeed, an' we travelled alang through the dark nicht as weel, they tell me, though that I'm no prepared to say, seem' that I was fast asleep in the hold," and he looked around to see if any of his hearers doubted his word. "Then, whan we got to the wharf in Halifax, an' I selt ma tawties an' oats, I cam' ashore an' tramped the streets o' Halifax, up hill an' doon dale, till ma new buits are a' worn oot behin', as ye can see for yersel's," and he lifted up his feet, one after the other, that the truth of his words might be verified; then continuing: "It was whan the thiefin' scoon'rels met me an' made ma acquaintance that I gaed wrang; but I never suspected they'd start me on ma travels again, an' withoot ma kennin', tae--ay, an' sen' me aff withoot as muckle as a copper in ma pocket, at a', at a'! no even as muckle as wad buy me a bit o' breakfast, which the guid folk at Truro gied me for naethin', an', if it hadna been for them, I don't think I wad ever hae been able to fin' ma way back to ma hame on the farm. But here I am, richt amang the gentlemen an' ladies, travellin' alang like the Queen hersel' micht be prood to dae. Ay, but it's a long story I'll hae to tell them at hame whan ainst I get back to ma ain kintry again, an' it's themsel's that'll be dum'foon'ert to hear me tell aboot the mony kinds o' folk ain meets whan they gang abroad!"

"Have you met any naked savages since you left your distant country?" asked one of the sports, with a wink at his comrade.

"Naked savages, is't, you mean? Ay, that I hae, or nearly naked anes," was the quick reply. "On the streets o' Halifax, sir, near the wharves, sir, that's whaur ye'll come across them, but, dae ye ken noo, I aye thocht that savages were black, made sae I mean whan they were born into this worl'. But, dae ye min', it's masel' thinks that some o' them could be made white, if only ane had soap an' water enough to dae't. No that I didna see ony black savages roamin' roon' as weel; but maist o' them had some claithes on, like decent Christian folk. Some hadna come to that knowledge yet; but the nakedness o' black skinned savages isna sae noticin' as that o' white savages, I tak' it."

A hearty laugh followed this last remark, and the conversation became general, until the train arrived in Halifax.

Mr. Sherwood took the countryman to the police headquarters at once, where the story of the theft was told at length, and as he could give a good description of the men who had robbed him it was thought that they might be captured.

As Mr. Sherwood had received such kind treatment from the man's relations in Prince Edward Island, he thought it but fair to repay it by looking after the farmer during the rest of his stay in the city.

To satisfy the man that the vessel had not sailed during his absence he took him down to the wharf, and, after explaining to the captain the cause of his detention, Mr. Sherwood insisted on taking him up to visit his own family.

The farmer demurred at this, saying that his clothes were not in a fit state to visit anywhere.

This fact was evident, but Mr. Sherwood intended to visit a ready-made clothing store on his way up town, and make his friend presentable.

This was rather a delicate matter to accomplish without wounding the man's feelings; but the native tact of the Yankee served him well here, and when the farmer stepped before the large mirror in the back shop of Silver's clothing store and saw his own reflection, he hardly knew himself.

"But hoo am I ever gaun to repay ye?" he asked. "If I shouldna get ma money back I'll be in a bad fix."

"Not at all, Mr. McDonald. I'll buy the best horse you have got, if you will sell him to me, and we can settle this little matter then; but I made enough on the big black horse I bought from your brother to give you this suit and still have a good profit besides."

"Weel, ye're an honest man, for ye paid a guid price for the beast, an' paid it in cash tae."

"Thank you for your good opinion; but in case the police should not find those rascals before the vessel sails, it will be rather hard on you to return home with empty pockets, so let me pay you in advance for that horse."

It was quite a different-looking man that came out of the store a few minutes later, for he had been refitted from hat to boots, and he looked the well-to-do farmer to the life, even the well-filled purse was not lacking, for Mr. Sherwood had given him the horse's value instead of the modest sum the farmer stated as the selling price of his animal.

The polite store-keeper promised to send the farmer's cast-off garments to the vessel, and Mr. Sherwood was soon introducing his friend to the members of his household.

Mr. Sherwood's unexpected arrival made a joyful excitement, and the farmer mentally resolved that an account of the happy meeting between the Yankee horse-buyer and his family should be added to the rest of the story he had to tell when once he arrived home.

When Mr. Sherwood had privately explained to the family the present position of his new friend, together with the respectability of the family and the kind treatment he had received from their hands, he was treated as an honored guest, and Dexie had never been so gracious to the fastidious Plaisted or treated him with half the courtesy as she now bestowed on the honest, kind-hearted, though ignorant countryman.

That this kindness was appreciated was quite evident from the satisfaction that beamed from every wrinkle on his honest face; and when he found himself seated in the most comfortable chair in the parlor, listening to the music that Dexie was bringing forth from the piano for his pleasure, he doubted in his mind if even the Governor himself was as happy and fortunate as he.

As the vessel was to sail the next day for Charlottetown, he had to leave the pleasant rooms for closer quarters on board the vessel; but before he said farewell he exacted a promise that, should any of them ever go to the Island, they would visit his home on the north shore.

As the vessel was about to leave the wharf Mr. Sherwood appeared, accompanied by a member of the police force, who gave over to the hand of the farmer about half the sum which had been stolen from him, and the man actually felt richer than when the whole amount had lain in his pocket. He pressed Mr. Sherwood to accept payment for the drive on the train and for his new suit, but Mr. Sherwood reminded him of the horse he had purchased, saying:

"Look well after my horse, McDonald, and if you will find out where I can get some more good animals I will be glad to pay you for the time and trouble expended in doing so," and with a hearty hand-clasp Mr. Sherwood stepped ashore.

In a few minutes the vessel's cable was shipped and she slowly passed down the harbor, bearing on her deck one who had a heart full of gratitude for kindness shown a stranger in a strange land.