Chapter 5

NICK BOOMSBY HAS ASPIRATIONS.

When I reached Market Wharf I found that the Islander had hauled out into the stream from the wharf where she had been undergoing repairs. Captain Blastblow had certainly done his work well. The twin sister of the Sylvania had been painted, and she looked as though she had just come out of the ship-yard for the first time. She was moored off the yacht-club house, and the American flag was flying at her peak, as though she had just gone into commission.

I earnestly hoped that Colonel Shepard would conclude to make the trip up the Mississippi, for I was very confident we should enjoy yachting on the great river much more in company with the Islander, and the pleasant party on board of her, than we could alone.

I took a shore boat to board the Sylvania, for as this was our last chance on shore for the present, all hands had been allowed to spend the day in the city. Cobbington declared that he did not care to see any more of the city, where he had passed so many miserable days, and had volunteered to remain on board as ship-keeper.

Miles Cobbington had come to the south as an invalid, and having no means, he had picked up a precarious living by hunting, fishing, and doing such odd jobs of work as he could find. When I came across him he was hungry, and without a place to lay his head. With good living on board the Sylvania, and with his mind relieved of all anxiety about his daily food and shelter, he had picked up wonderfully during the month of our trip up the river.

"Well, Miles, how do you get on?" I asked as I ascended the gangway.

"First-rate, Captain Garningham. I haven't been so happy for years as I am now," he replied with a cheerful smile. "I begin to think I may live for some years yet."

"I hope you will live for many years yet," I replied. "Mr. Peeks has been on board this afternoon, has he not?"

"Yes, sir; and I am very sorry to have him leave for such a reason," said Cobbington, with a look of genuine sympathy.

"I believe he attended to putting all our provisions and stores on board."

"Yes, captain; we stowed away everything last night, and we are ready to leave as soon as you give the word."

"We can't go without a steward," I added, glancing at Cobbington to see if I could find any suggestion in his face. But he looked entirely blank.

"The steamers here are hauling off, now, and I should say you would have no difficulty in finding one," he replied.

"Do you think you can readily find another good waiter?" I asked.

"I could find a hundred of them in half an hour," he replied.

"Then I wish you to find one as soon as the crew come on board. I want one to take your place in the fore-cabin."

"To take my place!" exclaimed Cobbington, looking aghast at me. "Then you are going to discharge me. What have I done?"

"You have done lots of things, and done them well. You will take Mr. Peeks's place as steward, at the same wages he received," I replied, unwilling to hurt his feeling a moment longer.

"Thank you, Captain Garningham," added Cobbington, his thin face suddenly wreathed in smiles. "I suppose you understand what you are doing, captain."

"I think I do; but I will add that it was my father who suggested your name for the position."

"I am very grateful to him for doing so, and to you for giving me the place. I think I can do the work to your satisfaction, for I have had considerable experience in this sort of business."

I gave him such directions as he needed, and then called a shore boat. As the Islander was likely to be our consort during the whole, or a part, of the cruise up the Mississippi, I thought I would pay her a visit, and become better acquainted with her officers. My uniform procured me a ready recognition on her deck. Captain Blastblow was a man of forty, with a bald head and red whiskers. He treated me very politely, though I thought I could see something like contempt in his manner, possibly at the idea of a young fellow like me presuming to hold a position equal to his own.

The captain took considerable pains to bring it into the conversation that he had been a seaman all his life, that he had come on board through the hawse hole, and had not crawled in at the cabin window. He made a slurring remark about fresh-water sailors, and informed me that he had been around Cape Horn and the Cape of Good Hope. He had been an ensign in the navy during "the late unpleasantness," and had served in the Gulf of Mexico in the blockade fleet.

"When do you sail, Captain Blastblow?" I inquired.

"I don't know: but I have my orders to be ready to go at a moment's warning at any time after daylight to-morrow morning," replied the captain of the Islander.

These instructions seemed to be entirely consistent with what Colonel Shepard had said, that his departure and destination depended upon the letters he expected to receive by the afternoon mail. I looked over the steamer, and found her as neat as a new pin in every part. The officers and crew had put on a new uniform, and I found that they had steam up on board.

I found no one that I knew on her deck, and the captain introduced me to the mate, the engineers, and the steward. I thought there was a little irony in his words as he did so; but I took no notice of this circumstance. I could see that he believed he was a thoroughly competent captain, and that he had some doubts in regard to my ability to fill the position I occupied on board of the Sylvania. I was willing that the future should settle all such questions; but I had the vanity to believe, though I did not say so, that I could handle the Sylvania as well as he could the Islander.

We parted as the best of friends should part, and when I had seated myself in the boat, I could not help thinking I should like to see him handle his vessel in such a storm as I had seen on Lake Superior. In a few moments I was landed on Market Wharf, and walked up to the post-office to inquire if there were any letters for me. I learned that the northern mail had not arrived. It was often several hours behind time, for the railroads in Florida were in very bad condition.

Colonel Shepard was there, very impatient at the non-arrival of his letters. He told me, if he had to go to New York, he should sail in the Islander on the next tide. If his business did not call him north at once, he should sail with us the next morning.

The colonel went over to the Carlton, and I was about to go with him, when Nick Boomsby came up to me. He was dressed in his best clothes, and he was as good a representative of the idiotic swell as I had ever met.

"When do you sail, Captain Alick?" he asked, as though the question was one of vital importance to him personally.

"To-morrow morning, about seven o'clock, unless some change is made in the arrangements," I replied, wondering what possible interest he could have in the sailing of the steamer.

"Alick, you and I were always good friends," he continued.

"Not always, though I don't mind that now," I added, not willing that the exact truth should be sacrificed, even by my silence.

"I am getting a little tired of this place, and I want to be out of it. I know we didn't always agree when we were little children; but I don't believe you think of these things now."

"I have not the least ill-will towards you, Nick."

"I am right glad to hear you say so. The old man never will let up on you, I suppose. But I told him he was a fool, and that he had better let you alone."

Perhaps it was good advice, but I did not believe he ever gave it to his father, though he was capable of any disrespect. I waited to learn what he was driving at, though the fact that he had said he wished he was going with me on the cruise came to my mind in this connection.

"I am tired of the sort of life I am leading," continued Nick.

"I don't blame you," I added, with the utmost sincerity, though I had not supposed he had any soarings above the sphere of a bar-tender.

"What can I do? The old man won't let me do anything else beside tend bar. It is mean business, and I'm bound to get out of it."

I thought Nick's view of the situation was very commendable, though I did not see how he was to break away from his father, if the latter was not willing he should do so.

"The only way I can do it is to run away," added Nick.

"I can't advise you to do that," I replied.

"I am eighteen years old, and I am able to take care of myself. The old man don't give me any wages, and it's hard work for me to get a suit of clothes out of him when I need it. Which would you rather do if you were in my place,--sell whiskey, and very likely become a drunkard yourself, or run away, and become an honest and respectable man?"

It was a hard question, and I declined to answer it, for I was unwilling to be responsible to any degree for anything that Nick Boomsby might do. I knew him too well.

"If you will take me to New Orleans on your steamer, I will work my passage, and be everlastingly obliged to you besides," persisted Nick, coming all at once to the point.

"No, Nick, I shall not do anything to provoke your father, or give him just cause to complain of me. So far as your leaving your present business is concerned, you must settle that for yourself," I replied, firmly.

I refused all his entreaties to be allowed to go in the Sylvania. I told him that the relation between his father and myself would not permit me to do anything to assist him. He seemed to be reconciled to my decision, and was as pleasant as possible. He asked me about the Islander, and I told him all I knew about her. I inquired what had been done about the robbery. Nothing more had been done, but everybody was satisfied that Buckner was the guilty person, and the police were still searching for the missing package. Nick was going on board of the Sylvania next, and I wrote on a card a request to Cobbington to show him over the vessel.

While we were talking the mail arrived. Colonel Shepard rushed to the post-office, and I was talking to him while the mail was in process of sorting and distribution. Nick stood by me all the time, and listened to all that we were saying. At last Colonel Shepard received his letters. He opened one of them with feverish haste.

"All right! I go with you, Captain Alick!" exclaimed the colonel, evidently as much delighted as a child would have been. "I will follow you up the Mississippi. What time do you sail, Captain Alick?"

"At seven; that will bring us to the bar at about the right time," I replied.

"I must send word on board to Captain Blastblow to be ready at that time."

The colonel appeared to be searching his pockets for a piece of paper, and I handed him one of my blank cards. He wrote something on it, and intimated that he wanted to find some one by whom he could send it on board of the Islander.

"I am just going on board of the Sylvania, and I will leave it on board of the Islander as I pass her," interposed Nick.

Colonel Shepard asked me if I knew the young man, and I told him I did. He gave him the card, and Nick hastened off in the direction of the boat-club building. I wondered if he was not intending to look for a passage to New Orleans in the Islander. It was not impossible, and I determined that my late passengers should not be burdened with his company.

I went to the Carlton, and found that my passengers had decided not to go on board of the Sylvania till the next morning, and had ordered an early breakfast. There was to be some sort of a social occasion in the parlors that evening, and my father and his friends wished to be present. I went on board of the steamer. On my way I looked in at the window of Captain Boomsby's saloon, and saw that Nick was there peddling out whiskey to thirsty customers. He had not concealed himself on board of the Islander; and I had told Colonel Shepard to be on the lookout in the morning, to assure himself that he had no more passengers than he wanted. I was quite sure I had blocked Nick's wheels, so far as running away in either of the steam-yachts was concerned.