The Last of the Flatboats

by George Cary Eggleston

  CHAPTER XVI

  "TALKING BUSINESS"

  Naturally the boys were too much excited over their capture to talk ofanything else, and for a time they did not even think or talk of themost important phase of that. They discussed the shooting, which all ofthem saw to be reason enough for the arrest, but it was not until wellon into the night that any of them thought to ask Phil about the resultsof his search of Jim's satchel.

  Meantime they had carried the pinioned man below and securely bound himto his bunk. Then they had cooked and eaten their supper, talking allthe time, each playfully describing his own consternation at every stepof the late proceeding. Finally Will Moreraud said:--

  "By the way, what does it all mean?"

  "Yes," joined in Irv Strong, "it at last begins to dawn upon my hithertoexcited consciousness, that we have not yet heard the results of Phil'sexplorations among Jim's effects. Tell us all about it, Phil."

  They were sitting in the cabin, or half way in it. That is to say, Philwas sitting in the mouth of the scuttle above, watching the river andthe course of the flatboat; Irv sat just below him on the steps, and theother boys were gathered around the little table at the foot of theladder.

  "One of you come up here, then," said Phil, "and keep the lookout whileI tell you about it. I thought you'd ask after you got through relatingyour personal experiences."

  Ed volunteered to take the place at the top of the stairs, although hisfrail nerves were now quivering after the strain he had been through.Phil seized the carpet-bag which he had instinctively kept under hishand all the time, and descended the ladder.

  There he opened it and spread its contents on the table.

  "These are what I have found," he said, suppressing his excitement."This big bundle of government bonds," laying it on the table; "this bigbundle of railroad and other securities," laying that down in its turn;"this great wad of greenbacks, and, best of all, _these_!"

  As he finished, he held up a bundle of letters.

  "What are they? Why are they the best part of all?" queried the boys ina breath.

  "They are letters from Jim Hughes's fellow criminals. I called them'best of all' because they will enable the authorities to catch andconvict the whole gang!"

  The exultation of the crew was great.

  "We shall have rendered a great service to the public, shan't we?" askedConstant.

  "A very great service, indeed. And that's what we must rejoice in,"answered Ed. "But we mustn't fail to render it. We mustn't let the thiefslip his bonds and escape."

  Hughes was lying there in his bunk all the while, but they paid noattention to him. They had ceased to think of him as a man. To them hewas only a criminal, just as he might have been an alligator or arattlesnake.

  "Oh, we'll take good care of that," responded Phil. "From this momenttill we deliver him to the officers of the law, we'll keep one fellowalways right here on guard over him. It will mean double duty for someof you to-night, for I'm going ashore presently."

  "Going ashore! What for, and where?" was eagerly asked.

  "There's a little town down here somewhere, as I see by the map, andwhen we get to it I'm going ashore to send telegrams. You see, Hughes's'pals' might have somebody at Memphis armed with a _habeas corpus_ orsomething of that sort, and take him away from us. I've a mind todeliver the fugitive myself. So I propose to have officers to meet uswith warrants and things when we reach Memphis."

  "Good idea," said Irv.

  "And there's the town just a little way ahead," called out Ed, from thetop of the ladder.

  Phil went at once on deck, leaped into the skiff and rowed rapidly aheadof the slowly floating flatboat, or as rapidly as the drift would lethim. When he reached the village he found to his disappointment thatthere was no telegraph office there. But he learned that there was oneat the hydrographic engineer's station a few miles below, on theopposite side of the river.

  By this time the flatboat had passed him, and he had a long "sternchase" through the darkness and drift before he could overtake and boardher again.

  Then, assigning Ed to guard their prisoner in the cabin, he called theother boys to the sweeps.

  "The river is very wide here," he explained, "and the telegraph stationis on the other side. We must take the boat well over there."

  The boys pulled with a will, and long before the station came in viewthe flatboat was close in shore on the farther side of the river.

  Meantime, or a little later, something happened in the cabin. Ed wasreading a book, when suddenly the prisoner called out:--

  "Ed."

  "Yes?" said the boy, laying down his book.

  "I'm awfully tired, lying in one position. Can't you turn me over abit?"

  Ed went at once to his relief. His torture was no part of the purpose ofanybody on board. But after Ed had readjusted the ropes so that thefellow could rest more comfortably, the prisoner said:--

  "See here, Ed, I want to talk to you. You fellows have made a tremendousstrike, for of course there's no use in disguising the truth any longer,to you at least, or pretending to be what I have tried to appear. You'vegot your man and you've got the proofs dead to rights. You've found mewith the swag in my possession. If you turn me over to the law, I'll goup for ten or twenty years to a certainty. There is no use in defendingmyself. The case is too clear, too complete. Do you see?"

  "Certainly" responded Ed. "You must pay the penalty of your crime. Wehave no personal hard feeling against you, Jim, except that you oughtnot to have tried to involve us boys as you have done, and--"

  "Well, you see, Ed," interrupted the bound man, "I was desperate. Therewas a big price on my head, and hundreds of men were looking for meeverywhere. On the one hand, a prison stared me in the face, on theother was freedom with abundant wealth to enjoy it with. If I could getdown the river, I thought I should have everything snug and right. Ididn't mean to get you boys into any trouble--really and truly I didn't,Ed. My plan was to blunder into that chute, and while you fellows wereall scared half to death about it, to slip ashore. I had those men onthe bank just for safety's sake. They don't really know anything aboutme or what I've got--what I did have," he corrected, with suddenrecollection that his carpet-bag was no longer in his possession.

  "Those men were hired by my partners to have horses there and run me offinto Mississippi, and I was to give them a hundred or two for the job,besides paying for the horses we might ride to death. Really and truly,Ed, that's all there was of that."

  "I see no particular reason to doubt your statement, Jim," replied theboy. "But what of it?"

  "Well, you see, I want to talk business with you, Ed, and I wanted youto know, in the first place, that I hadn't tried to harm you boys in anyway--at least, till I was caught in a trap by that sharp brother ofyours." There was a distinct touch of malignity in the man's tone as hementioned Phil, to whom he justly attributed his capture.

  "Never mind that," he resumed after a moment. "I want to talk businesswith you, as I said. Here are you five boys, all alone on the river.Anything might happen to a flatboat. You're likely to make, as nearly asI can figure it out from your talk, about fifty or a hundred or at mosta hundred and fifty dollars apiece out of the trip, after payingsteamboat passage back. Now you've caught me. If you surrender me--"

  "Which of course we shall," broke in Ed, in astonishment.

  "As I was saying" continued Jim, "if you surrender me, you'll probablyget the reward offered, though that's never quite certain."

  "What possible difference can that make?" asked Ed, indignantly. "You'rea thief. We have caught you with hundreds of thousands of dollars' worthof other people's property in your possession. We have only one thing todo. We must deliver you to the officers of the law. We should do that ifnot a cent of reward was offered. We should do it simply because we'reordinarily honest persons who think that thieves ought to be punishedand that stolen property ought to be returned to its owners. What hasthe reward to do with it?"

  "I'm glad you look at it i
n that way," said the prisoner. "At most thereward is a trifle, as you say. Five thousand dollars to five of youmeans only a thousand dollars apiece. Now I've a business proposition tomake. Suppose you let me slip ashore somewhere down here, I'll leavebehind me--I'll put into your hands all the coupon bonds. They're betterthan cash--they are good for their face and a good deal more anywhere.You boys can sink the old flatboat down the river somewhere, sell outthe bonds to any banker, and go ashore rich--worth more than anybody inVevay's got, or ever will have."

  The man spoke eagerly, but not excitedly, and he watched closely to seethe effect of his words.

  Ed preserved his self-control. Indeed, it was his habit always to growcool, or at least to seem so, in precise proportion to the occasion forgrowing hot. He waited awhile before he spoke. Then he said:--

  "Jim Hughes,--or whatever your name is--well, I'll simply call youThief, for that name belongs to you even if nothing else that youpossess does,--you thief, if you had made such a proposition as that tomy father, he would have--well, he was said to be hot-headed. I'm nothot-headed--"

  "No. You're reasonable. You're--"

  "Stop!" shouted Ed. "If you weren't tied up there and helpless, you'dmake me hot-headed, too, like my father, and I'd do to you what he wouldhave done. As it is, I'm cool-headed. I'll 'talk business' with you; andthe business I have to talk is just this: I forbid you from this momentto open your mouth again, except to ask for water, while you are on thisflatboat. If you say one other word to me or to any of my companionsI'll forget that I am not my hot-headed father, and--well, it will bevery greatly the worst for you. Now not a word!" seeing that the fellowwas about to speak. "Not a word, except the word 'water,' till mybrother turns you over to the officers of the law. I'm not captain, butthis particular order of mine 'goes.' I'm going to ask my brother topass it on to the others, and it will be enforced, be very sure. Theyare not cool-headed as I am, particularly Phil. He's like my fathersometimes. Remember, you are not to speak any word except 'water' tillyou pass from our custody."

  The high-strung boy tried to control himself, but he was livid withrage. He choked and gasped for breath as he spoke. Weak as he wasphysically, he would certainly have assaulted the man who haddeliberately proposed to make him a partner in crime, but for the factthat the fellow was bound, hand and foot, and therefore helpless. In hisrage Ed ran up the ladder and called for his brother, meaning to askthat the man be released from his bonds in order that he, Ed Lowry,might wreck vengeance upon him for the insult.

  Phil had gone ashore to send his telegrams. Irv Strong had been left incommand of the boat. He asked Ed what was the matter. Ed, still chokingwith rage, explained as well as he could, growing more excited everymoment, and ended by demanding:--

  "Let the scoundrel loose! cut the ropes that bind him, and give me achance at him!"

  "Hold on, Ed," said Irv. "The wise Benjamin Franklin once said: 'Nogentleman _will_ insult one; no other _can_.' This thief, burglar, bankrobber, that we've got tied in a bunk down there, _can't_ insult _you_.He doesn't know our kind. He isn't in our class. It never occurs tohis mind that anybody is really honest. It seems to him a question ofprice, and he thinks he has offered you mighty good terms. If any manwho understood common honesty and believed in its existence had madesuch a proposition to you, your wrath would be righteous. As it is,your wrath is merely ridiculous. Of course a trapped bank burglar triesto buy his way out with his swag. Of course such a creature doesn'tknow what honest people think or feel--he has no capacity to understandit any more than he could understand Russian. Go below, Constant, andwatch that thief. Ed, you must recover yourself. Phil will come aboardpresently, and I really don't suppose you want to tell Phil preciselywhat has happened and leave _him_ to--well, let us say to _discipline_Jim Hughes."

  "No, no; oh, no!" said Ed, suddenly realizing what that would mean."Phil would--oh, I don't know what he wouldn't do. For conscience' sakedon't tell him what happened!"

  "Suppose you go forward then," suggested Irv, "and sit down on theanchor and cool off, and so far recover yourself that Phil won't noticeanything or ask any questions when he comes aboard."

  The suggestion was very quietly given, quite as if the whole matter hadbeen one of no consequence. But it was instantly effective. Irv wellknew that Ed's greatest dread was that Phil's fiery temper might get thebetter of him sometime. So Irv had shrewdly appealed to that fear.

  "I will; I'll cool down at once," said Ed, rising in his earnestness."Nobody knows what Phil would do or wouldn't do if he knew of this. Irv,you must prevent that. Make all the boys pledge themselves not to lethim know, at least till Hughes is out of our hands."

  Irv was glad enough to make the promise and to fulfil it. For he, too,knew with what reckless fervor the high-mettled boy would be sure toinflict punishment for the insult should he learn of it.

  "Phil is the jolliest, best-natured fellow in the world," explained Irv,when he asked the other boys not to tell their captain what hadhappened, "but you know what a temper he has--or rather you don't know.None of us does, because nobody has ever made the mistake of stirringhim up with a real, vital insult."

  "No," said Will, "and I pity the fellow that ever makes that particularmistake."

  "We'll never tell him," said Constant. "If we did, we mightn't be ableto deliver our prisoner."