Down the River; Or, Buck Bradford and His Tyrants

by Oliver Optic

  CHAPTER XXI.

  FLORA AND HER PATIENT.

  There was no difficulty, in finding the River Queen No. 4, for she wasthe centre of a circle of melancholy interest, and a crowd of people hadgathered on the levee to hear the latest tidings of woe from her cabin,now changed into a hospital. I care not to dwell upon the sad scenewhich greeted my vision as I went on board of her, nor to describe thehorror with which I glanced at the long row of ghastly corpses which hadbeen taken from the water.

  It was a sickening sight, and terrible were the groans and the wailingsof the sufferers which resounded through the boat. I learned that thecaptain of the ill-fated steamer was among the dead. If it had not beenso, an hour in the midst of this horrible din of sighs, and wails, andgroans would have been an all-sufficient punishment, if he had a humanheart in his bosom, for the base crime of sacrificing those preciouslives to the stupid rivalry of the hour.

  The officers and passengers had been engaged in making up lists of thewounded and the dead. Among the latter I found the name of Mrs.Goodridge and Mr. Spear. I shuddered as I realized that the worst fearsof Emily were confirmed. I informed the clerk of the boat that I hadsaved one of the passengers, and her name was stricken from the list ofthe dead, and added to that of the living.

  I learned that the body of Mrs. Goodridge had been recovered, and thatfriends on board of the steamer would take charge of it. There wasnothing more for me to do, and I fled, sick at heart, from the awfulspectacle. I went to a small hotel near the landing, and though I sleptheavily, awake or in my slumber, the scenes of death and woe I hadbeheld still haunted my mind. I took an early breakfast, and thenendeavored to find a boat bound down the river. There was none in Cairothat would start that day, and it might be several days before I couldobtain a passage. I could not think of prolonging the agonizing suspenseof our passenger on the raft, or of leaving the two females to the careof so heavy a thinker as Sim Gwynn. If a squall or a sudden rise of theriver occurred, my assistant would be helpless; and if the raft brokeloose, he would not have wit enough to bring it up to the shore again.

  I walked up and down the levee, thinking what I should do. I could notcharter a steamer, and there was no conveyance on the other side of theMississippi. While I was thus fretting at the delay, I came to a yardwhere boats were kept for sale. Most of them were for the use ofsteamers, and were far beyond my means; but I found a second-hand skiff,which I purchased for ten dollars, including in the price a pair of goodoars. It would be a handy thing to have on the raft, and if I had had itwhen I first saw poor Emily Goodridge in the water, I could have savedher without any difficulty.

  In this light boat I embarked at nine o'clock. The raft was ten ortwelve miles below Cairo; but the swift current would speed me on my waywith little labor at the oars. I pulled steadily, and with just powerenough to give me steerage-way; and when I reached the raft, I found Ihad made the passage in little more than two hours.

  "Hookie!" ejaculated Sim, with a stupid stare, as I ran the skiff up tothe raft.

  "Catch the painter!" I called, throwing him the rope.

  "I hain't seen no painter," he replied, staring around him, and lettingthe rope run off the raft, and the skiff go adrift.

  I pulled up to the raft again, and succeeded in making my deck handunderstand that he was to hold on to the rope attached to the boat.

  "Where did you get that boat?"

  "Catch hold, and haul it up," I replied; for I seldom found itpracticable to answer Sim's questions.

  "Did you find this boat?" he asked when he had pulled it up on theplatform.

  "No; how is the girl we saved?"

  "Did you make this boat?"

  "No; I bought it; gave ten dollars for it. How is the girl?"

  "O, she's sick! Leastwise, she ain't very well, and didn't sleep much."

  I did not suppose she had slept very well; for one with such a fearfulanxiety on her mind must have suffered intensely during the long night.I hastened into the house, and found dear Flora making some tea for herpatient. I surmised that the poor child had also spent a sleeplessnight, for she looked pale and ill herself, and I trembled for herwelfare, devoted and self-sacrificing as she was in the presence of theheavy woe of her charge.

  "How is Emily?" I asked.

  "She is very sick, I fear," replied poor Flora, sadly, for she seemed tomake her patient's sufferings her own. "She has hardly closed her eyesduring the night."

  "And you have not slept yourself, Flora."

  "No, I have not. The poor girl has talked about her mother all nightlong. What news do you bring, Buckland?"

  "I hardly dare to speak it," I replied, in a whisper.

  "It can be no worse that her fears. She is already reconciled to theworst," added my sister, with a sympathetic tear.

  "Flora," moaned Emily.

  The devoted little nurse hastened to her patient. I had not the courageto follow her, and face the torrent of woe which my news must carry toher aching heart. Perhaps it was cowardly in me, but I could not helpit. I stood at the door and listened.

  "Your brother has come. I heard his voice," said Emily, in a toneconvulsed with emotion.

  "He has come, dear," replied Flora; and I heard her kiss thegrief-stricken maiden.

  "You have no good news to tell me. I know you haven't," wailed thesufferer. "I did not expect any. I knew she was--"

  And then I heard her sob. She was calmer than I had anticipated, and Iventured to go into the room. My heart was in my throat as I gazed uponher pale face and hollow eyes. She wept bitterly, as I confirmed herworst fears; and Flora, with her arm twined around the poor girl's neck,wept with her, and frequently kissed her. As gently and tenderly as Icould I told her the sad truth, and assured her that kind friends hadtaken charge of her mother's remains.

  I left her with Flora then, for she was the best comforter. As I put onmy working clothes in the adjoining room, I heard my sweet sisterspeaking to her the tenderest of pious consolations. She breathed thename of Jesus in her ear, and pointed her to the Rock of Ages for hope,for the joy which this world cannot give and cannot take away. Greatrough fellow as I was, I wept with them; for never had my heart been sodeeply touched before.

  On the platform I found Sim, still employed in examining the skiff I hadpurchased, apparently filled with astonishment that a little thing likethat had borne me safely down the river for ten miles. He wanted to askmore questions about it; but I told him to cast off the fasts, and in afew moments we were again borne on by the current of the Father ofWaters. The day was bright and pleasant, and a fresh wind from thenorth-west was blowing. I hoisted the sail and trimmed it, and takingmy place at the steering oar, I brooded over the bitter lot of mypassenger. I pitied her, and loved her for her misfortunes.

  As the raft continued on its way, I began to consider what should bedone with her. She was quite sick, and the rough house on the raft wasnot a suitable place for her. But she had no friends nearer than NewOrleans. I asked myself whether I ought not to abandon the raft, andtake passage in a steamboat; but I had not money enough to pay thepassages of the party, and I was obliged to answer the question in thenegative. But I could pay Emily's fare, and place her in charge of theofficers of some boat. I concluded to adopt this course at the firstlarge town we reached, where a steamer would be likely to make alanding.

  The poor girl was unable to sit up during the day; indeed, she was soill that I began to be alarmed about her. After dinner, I insisted thatFlora should lie down on my bed, and obtain the rest she so much needed,while I sat with the patient. My poor sister was all worn out, and sheslept till dark. Thanks to the gentle ministrations of Flora, Emily wasquite calm, but she could not sleep. She talked to me of her mother allthe time, and I became almost a woman myself in my efforts to consoleher.

  I told her that I proposed to send her to New Orleans by the firststeamer I could find which was bound there. To my surprise, she stronglyobjected, declaring that Flora was an angel, and she would not leaveher. She said s
he was very comfortable on the raft, and that she wasmuch happier there than she should be in a steamboat; and she trembledwhen she uttered the word. I told her that her father would be veryanxious about her, and she finally decided to write a letter to him,informing him that she was in the hands of good friends, on her wayhome.

  Flora was much refreshed by the sleep she had obtained, and sat up tillmidnight with Emily. I made a bed for her on the floor by the side ofher patient, and in the morning I found that both of them had restedwell during the latter part of the night. Sim and I kept the raft goingall night, as usual. The next day I mailed Emily's letter to herfather. The physical condition of the poor sufferer did not yet beginto improve, and Flora was unremitting in her efforts to help her. I wasvery much surprised to find that the devoted nurse did not sink underher exertions. But the patient slept tolerably well at night, and Irelieved my sister during part of the day.

  On the third day after the disaster, we passed Memphis; and I againurged Emily to take a steamer for her destination. She consented; but Ifound that she did so in order to save us the trouble she gave. When Iassured her that we had no desire to get rid of her, she insisted uponcompleting the voyage on the raft. She could not bear to part withFlora, who had been both nurse and comforter to her in her affliction.

  I made a landing at Memphis, and procured everything I could think ofthat would add to the comfort of Emily. She was very grateful to me, aswell as to Flora, and I am free to say that I found my greatesthappiness in caring for her and my sister; and all the more because theywere so devoted to each other.

  Day after day went by; and our course continued past Vicksburg, Natchez,Grand Gulf, Baton Rouge, till, on the thirteenth day from Cairo, and onthe twenty-third from Torrentville, we came in sight of the spires ofNew Orleans.

  The sun was just setting as we came abreast of the dense piles ofhouses. When we reached a place favorable for landing, I ran the raft upto the levee, and made it fast to a post.