Mississippi Jack

by L. A. Meyer

  We call a general meeting up on the cabin top soon after we dock and all the passengers have left.

  Mr. Cantrell thought that it might be nice to keep one of the boats as a sort of floating tavern and gaming place, but I countered that by pointing out if we stopped carrying passengers, we could do the same thing with the Belle. And so it was decided and all agreed: No more passengers unless they could contribute to our general enterprise. They were mostly a bother, anyway. You had to feed them and all. Plus we would have had to hire on more crew, and I want no more of that. I know Crow Jane was relieved—she was cooking for enough people right now. No, it would be the Belle of the Golden West and our performances—Sanctified, Minstrel, or Medicine—that would see us downriver, and if they don't pay, well, we will just eat catfish and bullfrogs till they come out of our ears.

  We all stand on board this ship as brothers and sisters! So say you one, so say you all! Good. It is agreed.

  ***

  We set about in a great bustle of activity, selling some things we took from the Cave, stowing others. Higgins sets off into the town to sell the two captured boats, while Yancy and I set about making changes to the Belle. We hire carpenters and have half the passenger berths taken out on the starboard side, to be replaced by a good, sturdy bar with shelves and racks behind to hold the bottles of spirits. Our long mess table will serve as tavern seating. Lanterns and lamps are set about to provide the warm and welcoming lighting. Cantrell wants a small, round table set to the side, seating maybe six, for serious players. I admonish him that I will brook no cheating nor skinning of helpless country boys, and he assures me that only serious members of the sporting class will be allowed to take their place at that table. On the floor to one side of that table, we install a trapdoor, with a secret pull-lever handy to the head chair, to take care of any unruly patrons. There is much hammering and sawing going on as I take my leave of the place, to go out into the town, satisfied that all is going well.

  The boy? Oh, yes, that boy. He does recover, against all odds. On the second day, his eyes pop open to stare about him in wonder, seeing three young females about him, mopping his brow with cold compresses and murmuring soothing words. It has to be quite a change from his former company.

  When he is able to speak, he tells us that his name is Daniel Prescott and tearfully relates that he was captured by the river pirates last year, along with his father and uncle, neither of whom survived the attack. When I tell him of our successful attack on those same vermin, he expresses great joy to hear it.

  "I hope you killed them all. Warn't a good one in the bunch. I hate them."

  "And I hope that you do not let that hatred fester in your heart, young Daniel, for it will mean that they managed to hurt you for the whole of your life," I say, placing my hand upon his arm. "Never fear, many of them are dead, Daniel, and you are alive, here, and safe."

  In his delight at being aboard the Belle, he is soon up and about and getting into everything. When we get him clean and presentable, I stand him up in front of me and inform him that his billet is to be ship's boy, and in that capacity he is subject to the orders of every single person aboard. In addition to any chores the others assign him, he has the job of looking after Pretty Saro, scrubbing her down and keeping her in the pink, and she seems to thrive under his care. Crow Jane, with plenty of new slabs of bacon and butts of ham now in her food locker, has given up gazing pointedly at a contentedly sleeping Saro whilst running her thumb along the edge of her knife to test its sharpness. My piglet is safe, for the time being, at least. But every day she is growing larger, and very soon we will no longer be able to call her a piglet.

  Crow Jane has an unlooked-for delight in this port when she meets up with someone from her own Shoshone village high up on the Missouri and Snake rivers. There are exclamations of happiness at the meeting, expressed by a sort of shuffle dance done with thumb in mouth, then great hugs and squeals of joy. The girl, who turns out to be Crow Jane's niece, has with her a little boy of about two, Jean Baptiste. She was captured, as a child, by the Hidatsa Indian tribe and then later sold to a French trapper, who made her his wife when she was old enough to be a wife and to be gotten with child. I think to myself, Huh! A lot of say she had in the matter, but the travails of her life don't seem to bother her overmuch. She eats and laughs with great gusto and charm as she recounts her travels, in both French and English. I find that she has been on that Lewis and Clark Expedition across the new Louisiana Territory that Amy Trevelyne was going on about back in Boston. That expedition is now breaking up, the leaders heading back to Washington to report to President Jefferson. 'Tis no wonder the men on the expedition took her along, as I am sure she brought them much cheer in their darkest hours. Now she's been hired as cook on a boat going downriver. Of course, she'll take her son along, too. Her name in English is Bird Girl, and we invite her to dinner and avidly listen to her tales of the wild wonders she has seen, especially me, and, curiously, Katy, too, who seldom expresses enthusiasm for anything. And this Indian girl has even seen the Pacific Ocean on the other side of this massive country. Jeez ... Even I ain't never yet seen the Pacific. We sit there far into the night, listening with chins in hands, rapt, until she finally rises, picks up her child, thanks us for dinner, and leaves to continue her journey downriver.

  "Wouldn't that have been somethin' to have been along on that trip?" I sigh, after all have left and we undress for bed.

  "Yes," says Katy Deere, simply, but I catch an edge of real longing in her voice.

  ***

  Higgins has managed to sell off some of the goods, and so, on our third day here, we have a payday. We break it down this way: Faber Shipping gets ten shares—after all, we have to pay for resupplying, repairs, and renovations, as well as to pay Higgins and Tanner. All others receive one share, except for Daniel, who gets a quarter share. It works out to fifteen dollars a share, and all pronounce themselves satisfied. Matthew and Nathaniel Hawkes head for the nearest taverns, with orders to be good. If they land in jail, they will be left here, and they know that. I don't know where Lightfoot and Chee-a-quat go, but then, I seldom do.

  Mr. Cantrell pockets his pay and goes off looking for a game. Chloe, dressed in her best, goes off with him. As elegant as they both are, I cannot help but think of the circling sharks I have seen in various waters.

  Jim and Clementine run off, hand in hand, laughing, to taste the charms of the town, and, I am sure, the charms of each other. Oh, well...

  That night, the Belle is left in the capable guard of Crow Jane, the Preacher, Katy, and Daniel, who was allowed enough time to go buy himself a folding knife, of which he is most proud.

  Higgins and Lady Gay and I go in search of a tavern, where music might be wanted and where the company should prove kind.

  On the day before our departure, the Hawkes boys return. We have not seen hide nor hair of them since they went hooting off with some jingle in their pockets, and I despaired of their return, thinking them surely in jail, or drunk in some ditch—but no, here they are, and instead of looking sodden, seedy, and dirty, they are quite spruced up. They had plainly found a barber, for they are freshly shaven and their hair is neatly cut. They each have a new jacket and hat, and I would be amazed at this change in their appearance had not the reasons for it been simpering by their sides: There stand two girls, dressed identically in frilly pink dresses with matching pink hats. Hats, that is, not the usual bonnets of the frontier, and the girls are, in fact, twins. They look as out of place on this rough dock as the girls of the Lawson Peabody looked two months ago when confined in the belly of that vile slaver Bloodhound.

  Nathaniel Hawkes takes his girl by the hand and leads her up the gangway, to face me where I stand on the deck of the Belle. Yancy Cantrell stands by my side, as we have been discussing the final outfitting of the bar.

  "Pardon, Boss," says 'Thaniel, taking off his new hat, "but this here's Tupelo Honey. Tupelo, honey, this here is the skipper of the Belle of the Golden
West."

  The girl dips down in something like a curtsy. "Charmed," I say, not meaning it much.

  "And this here's Honeysuckle Rose," says Matthew, proudly handing his girl up from the dock. "We'd be much obliged if you'd allow these girls to ride down to New Orleans with us, yes, we would."

  I cross my arms on my chest. "Now, Matty, you know we decided not to take on any more passengers, lads, so I'm afraid we—"

  Honeysuckle decides it's time to speak up. "Oh, Miss, please hear us out! We're stranded here, my poor sister and me, and we just want to get back home to dear ol' New Orleans."

  Both the girls have blond hair that they perhaps were not born with, that hair having something of a brassy sheen. They are quite ample of chest and tail, with nipped-in waists, which I suspect are kept so by strong whalebone corsets. Their dresses end at mid calf, and frilly white pantaloons show below. They each hold a pink parasol.

  "And just how did you ladies come to be stranded here?" I ask.

  "Why, Miss, cruel, cruel fate had dealt us a very bad hand. A gentleman down in New Orleans said he had work for us upriver, at St. Louis—we are artistic dancers, you know—and so we agreed to go with him. But when we got up there, he turned out to be not a gentleman at all, no." She pulls a handkerchief out of her sleeve and dabs at her eyes, in which I can't really make out any tears. "He wanted me and my poor innocent sister to do awful things with men. Oh! I can't bear to think of it! I can't!" More dabs at eyes. Tupelo, taking the cue from her sister, whips out a hanky of her own and picks up the story, her sister being overcome with emotion.

  "So Honeysuckle and me, we cut and run and made it down to Cairo, where we fell ever so gratefully under the kind and lovin' protection of these fine gentlemen." She bats her eyes up at Nathaniel.

  I take this all in with more than one grain of salt. "I have friends in New Orleans. Have you ladies ever heard of a Mrs. Bodeen?" I ask.

  They exchange a quick look.

  Aha.

  "Why, no, ah don't believe we are acquainted with that person, no," says Honeysuckle.

  Uh-huh.

  "And you know, Miss," chimes in Tupelo, hastily, "we'll work to pay our way."

  Right, and I can imagine exactly what sort of work you have in mind.

  "Hmmm," says Yancy, looking the amply endowed sisters up and down. "They could tend the bar, while you and Clementine and Chloe provide the entertainment. We do have the cabin room."

  "What is your last name, girls?"

  "Why, it's Sweet, Miss..."

  Of course.

  "We are the Sweet sisters. Or were." Tupelo giggles, looking up at Nathaniel. "Now our last name is Hawkes."

  What?

  I cut my eyes over to the Brothers Hawkes. Nathaniel blushes mightily, the red of his cheeks matching those of his brother's. "We all got married up yesterday."

  Oh, lads, what have you gone and done?

  I heave a large sigh. "Well, I guess that settles it, then. You will have to work to pay your way, but I think you will find me fair. You will tend bar, wait on tables, wash glasses and dishes, help with the laundry—and ladies"—here I pause and give each of them a serious, level look—"above all, you will behave yourselves. Is that clear? Good. Welcome aboard my ship. You may call me Miss Faber."

  "Oh, bless your little ol' heart, Miss Faber!" gushes Honeysuckle. "Thank you so very, very much!" She rushes forward to envelop me in a big ol' hug. I endure it stiffly, enveloped as well in a cloud of rose-scented perfume. "And ain't you got just the cutest little ol' accent, you!"

  Lord.

  So, changes are made in the living quarters. Higgins will get a cabin of his own, as will Yancy Cantrell, and so, too, the Reverend. Jim and Daniel share a cabin that has upper and lower berths. Matthew and Nathaniel each have a cabin and a Honey. All pronounce themselves well satisfied.

  The former officers' quarters now become a girls' dormitory. We take down the canvas curtain that divided the male space from the female. Clementine, Katy, and I retain our old beds, and Chloe takes Jim's former bunk. A much better arrangement, I'm thinking. This will make bathing and other personal matters much easier. Plus, I'm glad to get Jim out of the same room with Clementine. I knew that some night soon I would wake to find Clementine not in my bed, but in Jim's, and this ship don't need any more marriages, no it don't.

  Everybody's back. We push off in the morning on the biggest river of them all.

  PART V

  Chapter 44

  We are some days out of Cairo and things are going very well. Now we have Tennessee to our east and Missouri to our west. We have made stops at Dorena and Tiptonville and Point Pleasant and Caruthersville and other places whose names I forget almost as soon as we leave them, but we do leave them happier than they were before our arrival.

  When we approach a likely town and the weather is fair, we put Chloe's instrument up on the cabin top, and with her pounding away on the harpsichord and me sawing on the fiddle for all I'm worth, well, they gotta know something special's coming. And something special it is, with the Belle of the Golden West all bright in her new paint, and all of us girls up on deck dressed in our best, waving and singing. Kids, told of our coming by Jim Tanner, watch out for us, and when we come around the bend and into their town, they scamper off to spread the word. The showboat's here!

  In some of the places, we've been able to put on all three of our shows. We arrive, set up the performance boards and curtain frame on whatever dock the town has to offer, and send Jim and Daniel around to announce the times of the show. We run the Sanctified Show, the Very Reverend Jeremiah Clawson, Harvard Divinity Class of '82, presiding, with the Calico Angels (singers Clementine and me, and Chloe at the harpsichord) at noon or thereabouts. Then we do the Medicine Show at three in the afternoon, and the Tavern Show at night, inside the Belle. We charge no admission; we merely pass the collection plate after the church service, sell bottles of Captain Jack's Elixir in the afternoon, and sell drinks and food at night. So far, we prosper.

  The Captain Jack's Tonic Hour of High Hilarity, our medicine show, not only has the sales pitch with Reverend Clawson holding up a bottle and pointing to the label while reciting the list of complaints and ailments the elixir would cure, the bottles for sale lined up on a table before him, but the show is also filled with comical songs and skits. In one of them, I play a bit of a tune on the fiddle, and every now and then I stop and Matty and Nathaniel, acting out the parts of a farmer and a lost traveler, have a little exchange of words. It goes like this:

  MATTHEW: Say, Farmer, does this road go to Sharpsville?

  NATHANIEL: Wal, Stranger, I've lived here all my life and it ain't gone nowhere yet. It just sorta lies there.

  Then I come back with the tune again, and then in a bit, I stop.

  MATTHEW: Say, Farmer, you ain't very smart, are ye?

  NATHANIEL: Mebbe not, Stranger, but I ain't lost, neither.

  Once more I play the tune, then again pause.

  MATTHEW: Say, Farmer, just how do I get to Sharpsville, then?

  NATHANIEL: Sorry, Stranger, you jest cain't get there from here.

  Back again with the fiddle, the Hawkes boys join in with their jaw harps and some fancy clogging, and we finish it off with a flourish. Corny, yes, but it works. We get laughs every time.

  Then there's the testimonial. While the Reverend's making another pitch, I nip into the cabin, put on a white apron and a child's bonnet, and pop back to give a testimonial: "Oh, good people, onc't I was a very bad little girl—wouldn't mind my elders, took fits, sayin' swears, but ever since my mama started givin' me a teaspoonful a day of Captain Jack's All Season Tonic and Elixir, why, I've been good as any angel!" Here I rub my belly and put on my idiot's grin and say, "And it tastes good, too! Mmm, mmm!"

  Sales of the tonic are brisk.

  We end the Medicine Show with a playlet I have written, called The Villain Pursues Constant Maiden, or Fair Virtue in Peril.

  The Cast of Players

&nbs
p; Miss Jacky Faber as Miss Prudence Goodlove, maiden

  Master Daniel Prescott as Timothy, her sickly little brother

  Rev. Jeremiah Clawson as her father, Col. Goodlove,

  away at war

  Mr. James Tanner as her betrothed, Captain Noble

  Strongheart, away at war

  Mr. Yancy Cantrell as the evil Banker Morgan

  The Scene: Inside the Goodlove home on Babbling

  Brook Farm

  We open with Chloe playing some happy, down-home music, and when she lets it trail off, Higgins steps up and intones in his best British accent, "The Scene is in the parlor of the Goodlove home. Miss Prudence Goodlove has just received some disturbing news," and then he steps off. The Hawkes boys open the curtains, revealing Daniel and me. I am dressed in my special white dress, one that I purchased in Cairo and had altered to suit this play. Daniel is neatly dressed, his hair combed and parted down the middle.

  TIMOTHY: Sister, Sister, whatever is the matter? What distresses you so? (Daniel rips out a few convincing coughs.)

  PRUDENCE: Oh, Brother Timothy! The worst of news! The foreman has just informed me that the locusts have come and eaten our crop! (I put the back of my hand to my forehead to show great distress.) We shall have to mortgage the farm. Oh, that dear Papa were here. Oh, that the cruel war were over!