by Kirk Munroe
CHAPTER XXIX.
BIM BRINGS ABOUT A JOYFUL MEETING.
Even with Bim's aid, Billy Brackett failed to find the man who hadescaped him in Alton by running through the store and out of its backdoor. The young engineer was convinced that he was one of those whohad stolen the raft, and it was certainly very trying to recover thetrail, as he had just done, only to lose it again immediately. Soloath was he to abandon the search that it was very nearly noon beforehe did so, and retraced his steps to the river. As he approached theplace where the _Whatnot_ had been moored, he was surprised not to seethe boat, and turned towards a group of men, all of whom seemed to betalking at once, to make inquiries. At that moment the group opened,and from it Cap'n Cod, red-faced and anxious, came hastily stumping inhis direction.
"Where is the _Whatnot_?" asked Billy Brackett.
"That's what I want to know," replied the other, excitedly. "And wherehave you been all this time? I have been here, and in a state of mind,for more than an hour, not knowing what to do. Some of these men saythey saw three fellows go off with the boat soon after we left here,and of course I thought they must be you, Winn, and Solon; but Icouldn't understand it at all. Now that you are here, I understand itstill less. Where is Winn?" Here the old man paused, quite out ofbreath, but still questioning his companion with anxious eyes.
"I haven't seen anything of Winn since we all left the boat," repliedBilly Brackett, who could hardly comprehend the startling informationjust given him. "Do you mean to say that the _Whatnot_ has beenstolen? Great Scott! I wonder if those fellows can have had a hand init?"
"What fellows?"
Then Billy Brackett told of his fleeting glimpse of Plater, and of hisconsequent belief that the raft and all three of the "river-traders"must be in that vicinity.
"There's a raft, with three men aboard it, who call themselves'river-traders,' moored at the edge of that timber, just below thecity," volunteered one of the by-standers, who had overheard the youngman's remarks.
"Will you go with me and point it out?" asked Billy Brackett, eagerly.
"Yes, I don't mind, seeing that this weather makes a bit of slacktime," replied the man.
So requesting Cap'n Cod to wait there until his return, and promisingto be back as quickly as possible, the young engineer and his guide,followed by several curiosity-seekers, started in search of the raft.It is needless to say that they failed to find it, though another hourelapsed before Billy Brackett returned. He was disappointed, but waspossessed of a theory.
"I believe Winn has found that raft," he said to Cap'n Cod, as they sattogether in the small hotel to which they had repaired for aconsultation and dinner. "But he probably discovered it just as thosefellows, alarmed at meeting me, were putting off for another run downthe river. Then he hurried back here, and not finding us, took theresponsibility of starting after them in the _Whatnot_, hoping in thatway to keep them in sight. It was a crazy performance, though justsuch a one as that boy would undertake. He is a splendid fellow, withthe one conspicuous failing of believing that he knows what to do underany circumstances just a little better than any one else. So he haspersuaded Solon that it is their duty to keep that raft in sight untilit is tied up again, and then he'll telegraph to us. It is more thanlikely that the raft will stop at St. Louis, in which case they must benearly there by this time, and we ought to hear from Winn very soon.That is my theory, and now I'll run up to the telegraph office and seeif a despatch has come."
There was no message for any one named Brackett, and so, after leavingword to have anything that came for him sent to the hotel, the youngman hastened back. An up-river steamboat had just made fast to thelevee, and the two anxious men went down to see if her pilot had seenanything of the _Whatnot_. As they approached they saw by hersplintered bows that she had been in a collision. Others had noticedthis also, and already a crowd of people was gathered about hergang-plank to learn the news. Forcing a way through for himself andCap'n Cod, Billy Brackett boarded the boat, and went directly to theCaptain's room.
The Captain was inclined to be ugly and uncommunicative; but, with ahappy thought, Billy Brackett displayed the badge with which SheriffRiley had provided him. At sight of it the man at once expressed hisreadiness to impart all the information they might require.
Yes, he had been in collision with a trading-scow, but there were nolives lost, and the damage had already been satisfactorily settled. Ithappened a couple of miles above St. Louis, and the fog was so thickthat she was not seen until they were right on her. She was crossingthe channel, and they struck her amidship, sinking her almost instantly.
Her name? Why, according to this paper, it was the _Whatnot_. Queersort of a name, and she looked to be a queer sort of craft.
At this Billy Brackett's face grew very pale, while poor Cap'n Cod sankinto a chair and groaned.
"No lives lost, you say? What then became of the people who were onboard that trading-scow?"
"There were only three," answered the Captain; "her owner, a Mr.Caspar, a deck hand, and the cook, a black fellow. The first two savedthemselves by leaping aboard this boat just as she struck, and wepicked the nigger up in the skiff that we immediately lowered to lookfor survivors."
"You say the owner was a Mr. Caspar?"
"Yes, here is the name signed to this paper. You see, though we werein no way to blame, they might have sued for heavy damages and botheredus considerably. So when her owner offered to compromise and waive allclaims for three hundred dollars, I thought it was the cheapest way outof the scrape, and took him up. I had this paper prepared by a lawyerwho is on board, and witnessed before a notary, so that it is allsquare and ship-shape. See, here is Mr. Caspar's signature."
Sure enough, there at the bottom of the paper exhibited by the Captainwas the name "Winn Caspar," written clearly and boldly. It certainlylooked like Winn's signature.
Billy Brackett was staggered. What could it all mean? Something wasevidently wrong; but what it was he could not determine.
"Where is this Mr. Caspar now?" he asked.
"Went ashore the moment we touched here," was the reply. "Said he musthurry back to St. Louis. Took his man with him."
"Was he a young fellow; a mere boy, in fact?"
"Oh, bless you, no! He was past middle-age. Small, thin man, with asmooth face; and the other was a big man with a beard."
"And what became of the cook, the negro, whom you rescued?"
"He's down below somewhere, getting dry. I told the mate to look afterhim."
"But where is my niece Sabella? The little girl that was on board the_Whatnot_," asked Cap'n Cod, with a pitiful quaver in his voice.
"Little girl?" repeated the steamboat Captain, in surprise. "Therewasn't any girl on board. This is the first mention I have heard ofany such person, and Mr. Caspar would surely have spoken of her if shehad existed. What are you men driving at, anyway?"
With a forced calmness, and ignoring this question, Billy Brackettasked if they might see the rescued negro.
"Certainly, I've no objections. Only you'll have to be spry about it,for I'm going to pull out of here inside of a couple of minutes. Ionly stopped to land Mr. Caspar."
They found Solon just getting into his dried clothing, and the faithfulfellow's face lighted as he saw them. There was, however, areproachful tone in his voice as he exclaimed, "T'ank de Lawd, yo' issafe, Marse Cap'n, an' Marse Brack. Ole Solon feelin' mighty bad whenyo' ain't comin' to see him, an' Marse Winn too. But dese yeah folkain't tellin' me nuffin of Missy Sabel. She gettin' saved same as deres' of us, ain't she? Say de good word, Marse Cap'n, an' don't tellde ole man dat honey lamb done got drownded. Don't tell him dat ar?"
There was no time for explanations then, so they hurried Solon ashoreand up to the hotel. There his replies to their questions, and hisquestions in turn, only served to deepen the mystery in which the fateof the _Whatnot's_ passengers had become involved. He could not bepersuaded that they had not been on bo
ard at the time of the accident.Sabella had boon talking to him of what her "Uncle Billy" had just toldher only a few minutes before it occurred. He was also positive thatWinn had been on board the ill-fated craft. He was certain that Rewarddied at his post of duty, though of Don Blossom's fate he knew nothing.How he himself had escaped he could not explain, for he rememberednothing after the shock of the collision.
"It is evident," said Billy Brackett, at length, "that we must get toSt. Louis as quickly as possible, and strive to unravel this mysterythere."
Cap'n Cod agreed that this seemed the best thing to be done, and asthere was a train about to leave for the South, they hurried to thestation.
As Bim was forced to ride in the baggage-car, and his master declinedto leave him, both Cap'n Cod and Solon rode there as well. All threespent the hour's run to East St. Louis in discussing the strangeoccurrences of the day, and trying to discover some ground for beliefthat either Winn or Sabella, or both, might still be alive. In thiseffort they met with so little success that, by the time they reachedtheir destination, they had wellnigh abandoned all hope of ever againseeing either the boy or girl who were so dearly loved.
Poor Cap'n Cod was broken-hearted, while Billy Brackett resolutelyrefused to think of the sad telegram he must send back to Caspar's Mill.
If it had not been that Bim compelled them to ride in the baggage-car,they might have discovered the two "river-traders," Grimshaw andPlater, who were also on the train. Bim did discover them on theplatform at East St. Louis, and he was in the act of springing towardsMr. Plater, when the old negro Clod stumbled over his chain and intoSolon's arms.
In his joyful excitement at this wonderful meeting with the brotherwhom he had never expected to see again, Clod allowed a slip of paperto fall unheeded to the ground, and Billy Brackett picked it up. Heglanced carelessly at it, and then his shout of amazement as he sawwritten on it the name "Winn Caspar" startled not only his companions,but every one on the station platform.
Two minutes later four excited men, accompanied by a white bull-dogstraining at his chain and barking as joyfully as though he understoodthe whole situation, were hurrying with all speed in the direction ofClod's cabin on the river-bank.