River Queen

by Gilbert, Morris

  “That way, Archie would have gotten the plantation, the house, everything. For very little money, I might add. All he would have had to do was pay the creditors and that pittance owed on the plantation. Those sums were a fraction of their worth, and the Leggetts carry that much around in their pockets.”

  Light dawned on Julienne’s face. She stared at Leah, her dark eyes now clear and even bright. “Do you mean to say,” she said in a somber voice, “that Archie-Bald was not helplessly, fervently, passionately in love with me? That’s it! I’m never falling in love with a man again!”

  “You weren’t any more in love with him than my pinky finger,” Leah said. “And don’t joke about such things, Julienne. The Lord has a strange way of bringing our words back to us in odd ways. Now, if you’ve stopped mooning over Archie-Bald, would you please come help me and your mother with a couple of things?”

  “I’ll be glad to,” Julienne said, rising and brushing her skirt. “As long as it’s not hanging curtains.”

  TWO MORE DAYS WENT by, and Dallas spent each day going up and down the docks, hunting for freight. Both days he came back empty-handed and discouraged. But now Julienne took pains to encourage him. Carley stoutly assured him that she had prayed for a “really good haul that weighs a lot so we’ll make a bunch of money” and so it would certainly come to them any day now.

  On the third day he left and didn’t come back in time for supper that evening. Julienne anxiously awaited him and couldn’t decide whether his lateness was good or bad. One minute she told herself it was good news, he must be working out some kind of complicated deal to make up a good cargo. The next minute she scolded herself because she was certain that he was at the Blue Moon Saloon, drunk and partying riotously with Lulie.

  They were at supper, and they were talking and laughing. Even Roseann had cheered up considerably. Julienne and Leah had put an absolute stop to her doing any cleaning or manual work, for she was still of fragile constitution and required rest each day. Julienne, recovered from her shock at her friends’ letters, had decided to talk about it to the family. She had made a mock-somber announcement that Mr. Archibald Legget, Esquire, had begged to be excused from his proposal. “It was too precipitate, he feared, for his mother and father had been long asking him to wait for a year or two before considering marriage,” she said, her mouth twitching.

  Carley’s brow wrinkled. “What’s precipate?”

  “It means too soon. His mummy and da-da said so,” Julienne answered tartly.

  They started laughing, and Dallas came in. They all, except Darcy, called out greetings to him and told him to sit down.

  “You’ve got a big silly grin on your face,” Julienne said with amusement. “It must be good news.”

  “It’s double-good news. I’ve got a contract for a trip, and we’re loaded both ways. We’ll be loading the Queen tomorrow and taking our cargo to New Orleans!”

  Everyone began to talk at once, asking questions, Darcy talking about New Orleans, Julienne wondering what to wear. Finally Leah said sensibly, “Mr. Bronte, it’s late and you must be hungry. Would you like some supper?”

  “I’m close to starving,” he said good-naturedly. “Thank you, Mrs. Norris, I would appreciate something to eat.”

  She rose and went into the galley. Carley said, “It’s oxtail soup! And it’s so-so-so good! Except I never could find the ox’s tail in it.”

  “That’s probably a good thing,” Dallas said. “But I like oxtail soup too. Do you, Miss Ashby?”

  To Julienne’s guilty mind he seemed to be eyeing her with particular meaning, but then she realized he couldn’t possibly have known about her conversation with Aunt Leah and her mother. “As a matter of fact, I thought I would despise it, but it’s really very good. Of course, Libby could cook Mississippi mud and it would taste wonderful.”

  Libby came out with a steaming bowl, and Leah cut him two thick slices of bread and buttered them for him. Giving him a chance to eat, the others kept talking for awhile, about New Orleans, and what they might buy if they made any money. Dallas watched them and listened as he ate, and he looked happy.

  Finally he finished, pushed back his bowl, and leaned back in his chair. “That was fine, Miss Libby. And I do mean fine. Thank you very much. If there’s any left over, I know the crew would love some of it, even if it’s just a little cupful.”

  “That’s what they had for supper too,” Libby answered as she cleared plates. She shot a meaningful look at Julienne, who dropped her eyes. “Oxtail, it don’t cost much, but it sure makes a thick hearty stew. Lots of people like it, even white quality folks, you know.”

  Dallas looked puzzled at this declaration, but Julienne quickly said, “All right, we’ve been polite to let you eat. Now, what are we hauling? To and from?”

  “And how heavy is it?” Carley demanded.

  “Oh, it’s heavy, all right,” Dallas said. “A big, fat haul.”

  His answer puzzled them, and, glancing at Roseann, he went on hurriedly. “It’s livestock downriver. Farm equipment back.”

  Darcy asked warily, “Livestock? What kind of livestock?”

  “Er—cows. Some cows. And pigs.”

  A silence fell across the room, and a look of astonishment came to every face.

  “Pigs?” Julienne repeated blankly. “Pigs?”

  “Yes, pigs,” Dallas answered. “You know, four-legged things with long snouts that go around saying Oink! Oink! Pigs. You must have seen a pig or two in your time.”

  Carley clapped her hands. “Oh, boy, pigs! Maybe there’ll be some babies, and I can keep one for a pet!”

  “No!” Leah, Roseann, Darcy, and Julienne said in unison.

  Darcy said with disgust, “Pigs. I can’t believe it. Can’t you do better than that, Bronte?”

  “No, I can’t, because it’s a real good job, Ashby,” Dallas said defensively. “I just happened to see an old friend of mine right before he went into the harbormaster’s office, and I figured he was looking for a steamer. I grabbed him real quick, talked to him, told him about the River Queen, and about our—my—situation. He not only asked me to take this livestock haul, but he spent half the afternoon sending telegraphs back and forth to shippers in New Orleans, and he found us this good load of farm machinery for the trip back. It took him a long time, that’s why I was so late coming back, and he sure didn’t have to go to the trouble. But I guess that’s what good friends do.”

  Leah glanced at Julienne, who gave her a rueful half-smile. Then Julienne said, “He’s right, Darcy. Pigs have to be transported too. We’re not the only steamer on the Mississippi River that has hauled them. We owe Mr. Bronte, and his friend, our gratitude.”

  “And to God,” Carley put in. “’Cause pigs are fat, so they’ll be really heavy, and that’s what I asked for, a heavy load so we’d make lots of money.”

  “Yeah, what about that, Bronte? What about the money?” Darcy asked with sudden interest.

  Dallas glanced at Julienne, and she said quietly, “Darcy, I’ll have to go over the details with Dallas, and make calculations on our expenses, and exactly how much we’ll be able to clear. What we get paid isn’t all our money, you know.”

  “That again,” Darcy said, his fine mouth twisting. “When you Big Bosses figure out my allowance, you let me know, would you? I’ve got to go, I’ve got an appointment. Good night, Mother, Aunt Leah.” Savagely shoving back his chair, he left. Carley looked crestfallen, and seeing it, Julienne could have strangled her brother. But then she realized that when her father had been alive, she herself had been little better. She wasn’t sulky and rude like Darcy, but she manipulated her father constantly to give her things and money that he didn’t have. And though she treated Carley good-naturedly, she largely ignored her. She sighed deeply.

  Eyeing her, Dallas said, “I stand by what I say, that i
t’s a good haul, but I am sorry about the pigs. I know it’s not going to be easy for ladies to be on a pig boat.”

  They all immediately protested. Finally Roseann said softly, “Mr. Bronte, we are so grateful, to you, to your friend, and as Carley said, to the Lord. This has been an answer to prayer. Don’t even think of any regrets, because this freight is a blessing from God.”

  “Even pigs, ma’am?” Dallas asked with curiosity.

  “Even pigs,” she repeated. “We will thank the Lord for them.”

  “Especially,” Carley said piously, “big fat pigs.”

  DAWN BROUGHT A FUROR of activity, for the livestock had been driven by two Negro men all the way down Silver Street right to the dock. Everybody was staring at the sight, and since they left quite a mess behind, they made their feelings known. All up and down the docks the noise of hoots of derisions, disgusted shouts, catcalling, and eloquent profanity sounded. The berth where the River Queen was docked swarmed with pigs squealing and snorting. Eight cows stood staring and gravely chewing cud.

  Ring and Jesse lowered one landing stage, while Dallas and Willem lowered the other. Julienne had always been fascinated at this, because she remembered the first time she and Dallas had come to see the Queen, and he had lowered the gangway by himself. But always, she had noticed on the docks, it took at least two, usually more men, to do it. Now, however, she was much distracted—as was much of Natchez-Under-the-Hill—with the pigs. They were a squirming, lively, vocal crowd.

  Dallas’s friend, the owner, rode up on a fine horse behind the livestock. He was a short rotund man in his middle fifties, balding, with bushy side whiskers. His clothes were well-tailored and of good quality, but he dressed very plainly, in a black frock coat, waistcoat, and trousers. His tall hat was felt, not silk. Dallas went to meet him. “Good morning, Mr. Fender. The River Queen is all ready and rarin’ to go.”

  Fender dismounted and watched as his drovers and the crew started herding the pigs onto the boat. “Dallas, it’s a big comedown for a pilot like you to be driving a pig boat. It’s not going to help your reputation one bit.”

  Dryly Dallas said, “Mr. Fender, those pigs have a better reputation than I do right now. Thanks again for helping me out. I won’t forget it, and somehow one day I’ll pay you back.”

  “Just business, Dallas,” he said, shaking his head. “Besides, if the new River Queen is as fast as the old one was, you’ll be making a quick, clean trip, and that’ll be good for both of our reputations.”

  “This is our shakedown trip,” Dallas said. “So we’ll see if she’s the fast Queen she used to be. I’ll tell you, she may not look like much on the outside but her firebox and engine are top of the line. I think she’s gonna steam as good and fast as a clipper.”

  “I sure hope so, Dallas. I feel for the Ashbys. I wasn’t acquainted with them, but I heard what happened to that family when Mr. Ashby died. Big scandal, I’m sorry to say. Anyway, you remember the terms, right? I’m paying you half the money. You collect the other half from Pike at the other end when you deliver.” He took an envelope from his breast pocket and said, “It’s cash. Easier for you and the Ashbys. You can count it if you want.”

  “No, sir,” Dallas said, tucking it into his trouser pocket. “Thank you.”

  Fender hesitated and said, “Be sure you get the money before you let Pike have the livestock, Dallas. And if I were you, I wouldn’t take a bank draw.”

  Dallas nodded. “That way, is it?”

  “I don’t know anything for sure against him; as far as I know he’s always paid his freight. You just hear things. If I were you I’d get cash.”

  “I’ll make sure of that. Thanks again, Mr. Fender.”

  Dallas went back to the boat. The animals made a horrendous racket. The cows were bawling now and the pigs sounded like an undulating screech. The boat shook as they herded them on board.

  Pushing pigs aside, Dallas made his way along with the animals up the gangplank and saw that the men were having trouble driving the cows into the wooden pen they’d built overnight for them. He took off his hat and started whacking them, calling, “Hup, hup, git along, little dogies! Git on in there, c’mon, git!”

  Finally the pigs were happy and already wallowing in the hay covering the cargo deck, and the cows were happily snorting and snuffling from a trough filled with mash. The crew brought in the landing stages, and men on the docks and on the nearby steamboats called out to them.

  One squat river man with his mouth covered by a fierce black beard and mustache yelled, “Hey, Dallas, I got a load of snakes I got to ship down river. You want to take them? I can get you a good price.”

  Dallas said, “You bring ’em right on board. We’ll take anything that flies, crawls, swims, or hops.”

  When they finished he told Ring, Willem, and Jesse, “Let’s blow outta this joint. We got a date in New Orleans.” Grinning, they went back toward the firebox and the engine room. Dallas climbed the stairs and saw the family lining the rail on the Texas deck, watching. He gave them a quick wave and called, “We’re on our way! Miss Carley, blow me a kiss for good luck!”

  With enthusiasm Carley kissed her hand and threw the kiss at him.

  He hurried to the pilothouse, relieved because Carley hadn’t followed him to insist on ringing all the bells. It had been fun, when they had been just trying out the River Queen, but this was serious business and it would have been very inconvenient for him to have Carley—or anyone else for that matter—in the wheelhouse while he was pulling out of the crowded docks. It was still early morning, and dozens of steamers, flatboats, barges, and rafts were crowding the waters at the busy port.

  And also, Dallas admitted to himself, it was the first time in over a year that he had stood in a wheelhouse, the pilot, taking a valuable load of freight on a good tough steamer. He was elated, and it was not something he wanted to share right at that moment.

  Ring’s voice sounded up through the listening tube. “She’s ready to go when you are, Dallas!”

  Grinning like a little boy, he reached up and rang the backing bell.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  At about ten that night Dallas heard a timid knock on the pilothouse door behind him. “Am I disturbing you?” he heard Julienne ask.

  “Not at all, come on in.”

  She came in and stood beside him, but not too closely, giving him room. A perfect half moon shown down on the old river, and it lit her face with a gentle ghostly light. “Beautiful,” she whispered.

  “It’s a good night on the river,” he said quietly.

  The water-moon bobbled along the smooth black water, always before them, teasing them along. The thunk-thunk-thunk of the paddle wheel was a comforting background timpani. They were traveling along a stretch where the river blossomed out to over a mile wide, and the dark blur of the woods along the shore seemed to be floating fast past them.

  They were, it seemed to Julienne, far on the right side of the stream. Even as she reflected on this, Dallas eased the wheel over slightly, and the Queen obediently slid over, closer to the center of the river. They slid along, then soon he turned back and they hugged the starboard shore again. “Why are we kind of jiggling along all on one side?” she asked curiously.

  “Because along this stretch, on the port side, the river is shallow for a little over a mile, and then there’s a sandbar. You have to stay on this side until we get past the sandbar.”

  “So you know the river that well? Even how deep it is over there and about that little sandbar?” she asked with interest.

  He never took his eyes from watching alertly straight ahead. “Miss Ashby, I know every sandbar, every snag, every current, every hole, and every bend and loop of this old man. Every pilot does. We have to.”

  “Are you telling me that you actually memorize this river?” she said in amazement.

>   “Four times,” he said evenly. “Upriver, downriver, day, and night.”

  She digested this for awhile. Ahead she saw a soft yellow light, and as it grew closer she could see a little river shanty, with two windows in the front. “Do you know the people that live there?” she asked curiously.

  “No, but we call it Jameson’s point. It’s a landmark for a pilot. I see that shack, and I know that just about a mile ahead is the big landing for the Jameson plantation, so I have to be ready to pull out around it.”

  “But does that mean you know exactly how many miles per hour we’re traveling? And you calculate one mile, and then you know when you’re coming up on the landing?”

  “No, not really. You just know, you just feel it. It’s kind of hard to explain. But anyway, I do know that we’re going about thirteen miles an hour, under easy steam. That’s fast, Miss Ashby. That’s real fast. I’m proud of the Queen.”

  “Me too,” she said. “She’s giving us a lovely ride. Except for the scent, of course. But I’m not complaining,” she said hastily. “I—I just wanted to tell you that I’ve changed, Dal—Mr. Bronte. I’m determined to be grateful for all the wonderful things that you’re doing for us, and the good things that we have to look forward to, now that the River Queen is giving us some hope for the future. And—and in spite of—everything, I like the river. I can see the day when I might even love it.”

  His face became alert when she almost called him by his first name. Now he said intently, “You know, Miss Ashby, this river has tried to kill me four times, but I still love it. I’m glad that that wreck didn’t ruin everything for you, forever.”

  It was the first time they had ever spoken one word about the wreck. Julienne swallowed hard and said with difficulty, “Mr. Bronte, about that night—that night, in the barn—”