The River Rose

by Gilbert, Morris

  "Would you?" she said with delight. "Can you?"

  "I might be a stuffy old thing," he said ruefully, "but I've got a few tricks up my sleeve. I predict that within two weeks Captain Jeanne Bettencourt will rule the river!"

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  "Marvel, this is Mr. Clint Hardin that I've told you about," Jeanne said.

  Marvel made her little curtsey-bob; Clint instantly went down on one knee so that he would be eye-level with her. "Marvel, I'm pleased to meet you," he said. "Welcome to the Helena Rose. I hear you're going to be our captain?"

  Marvel giggled. "I'm not the captain, my mama is. Do you remember me? I remember you, you're the Singing Man. You winked at me."

  "I sure do. You and your mama were at the Christmas Regale, and I saw you. You had holly and ivy garlands, and I thought you looked like beautiful fairy spirits of Christmas," he said. "I winked because you have to let the fairies know you see them when they magically appear."

  "We're not fairies, we're real," Marvel said gravely.

  "Ah, I know that now, but I didn't on Christmas Eve," he said. "So just to be safe I had to wink."

  Marvel nodded knowingly, then held up her doll. "This is my doll I got for Christmas. I named her Avaymaria."

  "Did you? That's a very pretty name."

  "I named her after your song," Marvel said earnestly. "I think that song was the best song I ever heard. Would you please sing it to me?"

  "Not now, little one," Jeanne said hastily as Clint rose, grinning. "You haven't met the rest of the crew yet. This is Mr. Ezra Givens, our fireman, and Roberty, our deckhand."

  Marvel and Ezra Givens exchanged hellos, but Marvel immediately went to Roberty's side. "Mama said you've been bringing us wood this winter. That's good because it's cold. How do you know how to be a deckhand?"

  "Ezra's teaching me," he said shyly. "It was nice of your ma to give me a job."

  "She is nice," Marvel said. "Where's Leo? Mama's told me all about Leo."

  "We can go wake him up, if your mama says it's all right." Roberty looked up at Jeanne. "He's asleep in the boiler room."

  "Marvel, do you want to see Leo before you see our cabin?" Jeanne asked doubtfully.

  "Yes, ma'am, I'm so excited we have a dog! Where did you say he is?" she asked Roberty.

  "He's in the boiler room, but on the river we call it the firebox," he explained, now with a slightly superior air.

  With amusement Jeanne said, "Well, Roberty, since you probably know more than I do about the boat, why don't you show Marvel around? Mr. Hardin and I have a lot of business to discuss. Ezra, you'll keep an eye out, won't you?"

  "Sure thing, ma'am. She's a purty leetle mite, no bigger'n a butterfly," Ezra said. "I'll watch out for her." They all went into the boiler room, and Marvel squealed as soon as she saw Leo, threw herself across him, and kissed him right on the mouth.

  "I didn't see her kiss that dog on the mouth, did I?" Jeanne said darkly as they went up the stairs to what was now Jeanne's cabin. "That does it, I'm going to wash her mouth out with carbolic soap."

  "Aw, a little dog slobber never hurt anyone," Clint said. "I think you're joshing anyway. You are, aren't you?"

  "Of course, I would never do that to Marvel." They went into the cabin and sat down at the desk, for Jeanne had mentioned that it would be nice for them both to be able to sit there, instead of her craning her neck up to look at him all the time. The next time she'd come to the boat, a second plain straight chair had appeared. Jeanne had forgotten to ask Clint about it, or to thank him.

  "I was beginning to wonder if I still had a partner," he said. "It's been a week since I saw you at Deshler's." They had met the previous Thursday at Deshler's office to sign all the papers, go through all the legal documents, and get their cash. Jeanne had told Clint then that she had indeed decided to pilot the Rose, and she would let him know when she and Marvel would be moving in.

  "I have literally been so busy I couldn't get time to come down here," she admitted. "I had to keep working for three days. I gave them two weeks' notice, but I have a friend that arranged for me to be able to leave without any recriminations. Marvel even had to remind me that it was New Year's Eve. Happy New Year, by the way. What about you? Have you been working? Are you moved in yet?"

  "We had a job that had to be finished before I could leave. I've been working for Mr. Warner for ten years, so I couldn't just ride off into the sunset. We finished up that job a couple of days ago, and I moved in yesterday afternoon. Want to come see my cabin? I've got new furniture."

  "No, thank you," Jeanne said frostily. "The only thing I'm adding to our cabin is a dining room table and four chairs. They're supposed to be delivered tomorrow morning, and Marvel and I will be moving in tomorrow afternoon."

  "You want me and Ezra and Vinnie to come move you?" Clint offered. "I know where we can rent a cart."

  "That's not necessary, all we're bringing are our trunks, and I have a friend with a carriage. He's going to bring us."

  "Okay," Clint said tentatively. "Then what are we going to do? Live happily ever after?"

  "Are you ever serious about anything at all?" Jeanne said sharply. "I've been working on getting the Helena Rose on the river, and I have accomplished a lot. When my friend brings us to the Rose tomorrow, I want you to meet with us, and we'll discuss it all then."

  "What friend? Discuss what?" Clint demanded.

  "Our plans for the Helena Rose."

  "What our? I'm your partner, remember? Don't you think you might let me in on our plans?"

  "Oh. Yes, I see what you're saying," Jeanne said thoughtfully. "But to tell the truth, I'd feel much better if we discuss everything with Mr. Masters. It'll just be tomorrow afternoon, Mr. Hardin. I'm sure you can wait until then."

  CLINT DIDN'T HAVE MUCH of a choice, so he waited until the next afternoon and watched with a jaundiced eye as Jeanne, Marvel, and their trunks drove up in an elegant barouche box with glassed windows. Marvel's shining face was at one of the windows, and suddenly Clint recalled seeing her in that same carriage, after the Regale, on Main Street. Mr. Masters must be a good friend indeed, if they had spent Christmas Eve with him. Clint wondered about him and Jeanne, for it was unusual, he knew, for a chambermaid/female riverboat pilot to have such a well-to-do "friend." Eve Poynter Maxfield's face rose up in front of his eyes, but then he told himself that he had never ridden in Eve's carriage, certainly not in public. He had been visiting her this past week, while her parents were in the country, but he always came in the tradesman's back entrance to the house.

  Marvel ran up the gangplank, with Jeanne and Masters following more decorously behind. Jeanne had on new clothes, Clint noted, a maroon skirt with a matching short cape. She was wearing a new bonnet that he thought was hideous.

  "Mr. Hardin, I have the pleasure of introducing you to Mr. George Masters," Jeanne said when they reached him. "Mr. Masters, this is my partner, and the engineer of the Helena Rose, Mr. Clinton Hardin."

  Clint stuck out his hand, and Masters shook it firmly. He was dressed in a dark blue frock coat, black trousers with a sharply-pressed seam, spit-shined half boots, and a black silk top hat. Clint was wearing his work clothes, as always, a blue flannel shirt over a cotton undershirt, canvas duck trousers, and his old brogans. He had been working in the engine room, and had oil smudges on the knees of his breeches, and that bothered him. At least his hands were clean. And George Masters' hands were as soft as a woman's, he noted smugly.

  "Masters," he said.

  "Mr. Hardin, a pleasure to meet you," George said pleasantly.

  "Mr. Clint, Mr. Masters remembers you," Marvel said excitedly. "We talked about you riding home in the carriage after the Regale. He said you sing really good."

  "Really well," Jeanne corrected her.

  "Thanks," Clint said shortly to Masters.

  Jeanne gave him a cautious glance, then said brightly, "Marvel, why don't we go find Roberty? I'm sure wherever Roberty is, Leo will be with him."

&n
bsp; "Okay, Mama. But 'member, I live here now, so you don't have to tell me where to go all the time," Marvel reminded her. "I already know where everything is." She ran into the boiler room and they heard her call, "Roberty! I'm home!"

  Jeanne smiled, then asked Clint, "Was the table delivered today?"

  "Yes, ma'am, and the four chairs. We put them in your cabin. If you don't like how we fixed it, we'll move it around."

  Jeanne, George, and Clint went up to the cabin, and Jeanne surveyed the room with satisfaction. The desk was still underneath the windows along the back wall, the dining table was in the center of the room, and the two armchairs and tea table were down by the bed, across from the armoire. Jeanne had bought a wool carpet with an embroidered rose motif that covered the end of the room where the chairs and armoire were. The room looked homey and comfortable, and it was delightfully warm. Clint had been keeping one boiler fired up, and it heated the entire boat. "That's perfect, thank you, Mr. Hardin," Jeanne said with satisfaction. "Now, one reason I wanted this table is for a worktable, since my desk is small. Please, gentlemen, sit down." She took off her bonnet and cape, then took Master's hat and gloves. "George? We forgot about the trunks. All of our papers are in there."

  "Yes, of course," he said, hastily rising again. "I'll go get the driver to bring them up."

  "Don't worry about it, George," Clint said airily. "I'll take care of the manual labor."

  He sauntered out, and George resumed his seat. Jeanne joined him and said, "I told you he's impossible."

  "Maybe. But I have to say that we've put him in an awkward position, Jeanne. Can't blame a man for having a little resentment in this situation."

  "What situation?" Jeanne demanded. "After all, you've done nothing but help."

  "I've helped you," he countered. "To him, I've just come aboard his boat without a by-your-leave."

  "So let's say you came on board my half of the boat at my by-your-leave, and I now extend you an open invitation to board any time you want."

  "Yes, I'm sure that will make Mr. Hardin feel much better," George said with a chuckle.

  Clint and Ezra came in then, carrying Jeanne's and Marvel's trunks. Jeanne said, "Just put them over here, please." They put them down by the armoire, and Ezra made a quick bow and scooted out. Jeanne opened her trunk and took out a logbook, a sheaf of papers, and several rolled maps and dumped them all on the table. "You see, Mr. Hardin, I know the Arkansas River, but I don't know the Mississippi. And that was the problem. The big problem."

  "Why is that?" Clint asked. "You learned the Arkansas, you can learn the Mississippi, right?"

  "I could, in a couple of years, if I was a cub on a boat with a good pilot," Jeanne answered.

  "Ah. That is a problem," Clint said.

  "And another problem is that I don't have a pilot's license," Jeanne went on. "The Steamboat Act that was passed in 1852 requires all boats to have a licensed pilot. So pilots started taking cubs, and when they felt that the cub was expert enough, usually after a two-year period, as I said, they would certify to the marine inspector that the apprentice was a qualified pilot, and he would get his license."

  Clint frowned. "Is there any good news in this anywhere?"

  Jeanne smiled warmly at George Masters. "Thanks to Mr. Masters, it's all good news. He knows a pilot that is going to take me on a short cruise to Helena, then down to Napoleon Trading Post, and then back here, and then certify me to the marine inspector, who is a friend of his. Also, this pilot has kindly consented to coach me on this trip, because with the freight runs Mr. Masters has worked out for us, between here and Napoleon is going to be the only stretch of the Mississippi River I'll have to learn."

  Clint leaned forward and clasped his fists on the table. His knuckles had healed up, but they still had red lumpy scar tissue. "Okay, first, what is Napoleon Trading Post?"

  "That's a settlement right where the Arkansas comes into the Mississippi," George explained. He unrolled a map, then pointed. "You see? It's nothing but a collection of log huts, but it's been settled since de Soto's time. There are even some Choctaw Indians left there."

  Clint ran his finger down the wide green swath of the Mississippi River, then pointed. "Are you telling me that this is the Arkansas River, right here?"

  "It is. It's really better than it looks."

  "It looks like a skinny wriggling worm," Clint rasped. "And you can pilot that?"

  Jeanne looked uncomfortable. "It is difficult from Napoleon to Pine Bluff," she admitted. "But I've done it many times. It's just a matter of knowing the river, and concentrating while you're navigating it. The Arkansas is much smaller than the Mississippi, much narrower, it flows faster, and in many places it's much deeper. But there aren't nearly as many steamboats on the Arkansas River, mainly because only the smaller ones can navigate it. And that has proved to be a big advantage for us."

  Clint studied the map for a few moments, then murmured, "I see. Pine Bluff, Little Rock, Fort Smith, those are all sizable towns. If there are only a few steamboats servicing them I would imagine freight would be fairly easy to come by."

  "Last year only thirteen boats went to Little Rock," Masters said. "I guarantee you the Rose will have freight."

  "I'm not going to Fort Smith," Jeanne said curtly. "But Mr. Masters has figured out how we can have profitable runs to Little Rock and back. Mr. Masters is friends with the Memphis postmaster, and he was able to get us a contract to carry the mail, Memphis to Helena to Pine Bluff to Little Rock, and of course it's a turnaround each trip. That means we pick up both coming and going."

  "Yeah, I've heard of that," Clint said dryly. "How much does it pay?"

  "Only ten dollars per stop/per trip," Jeanne said, "so it's eighty dollars round trip."

  "Not bad for a few sacks of mail," Clint said thoughtfully. "We'll have room to haul plenty of other cargo, if we can get it."

  "We can," Jeanne said. "Mr. Masters says that Little Rock and Pine Bluff are crying for any finished goods, any textiles, any processed foods like tinned vegetables and fruit, and any coal deliveries in the winter are snatched right up."

  "And for return freight, Little Rock has the best crushed stone mines in the United States," Masters said. "Their problem has always been transport. You can pick up all the crushed stone you can hold any time of the year. With that, and lumber out of Pine Bluff, the Rose should be able to stay loaded all the time."

  Clint said with interest, "You know, crushed stone and lumber are heavy loads, and we're not a big boat. But we can carry a lot for our size. The Rose draws six inches empty and only ten inches loaded. That'll work on the Arkansas River, right?"

  "Oh, yes," Jeanne assured him. "As I said, it's narrower, but deeper."

  "Sounds like you've got it all worked out. Thank you, Mr. Masters. I appreciate your help," Clint said sincerely. "But I just have one question. Where are you going to find this angelic pilot that's going to babysit us for a couple of days? And how much is he going to cost us?"

  "There is an excellent pilot that I've already spoken to, and he's very happy to assist Mrs. Bettencourt. He won't charge you anything at all. His name is Francis Buckner."

  Incredulously, Clint said, "Buck Buckner's name is Francis? And you say he's going to do us a favor, out of the goodness of his heart? I find that hard to believe."

  Masters gave him a dry smile. "Believe it, Mr. Hardin. He works for me, you see. I'm half owner of the Lady Vandivere."

  BY THE TIME THEY finished their meeting, Clint had thawed enough towards George Masters to offer to take him on a tour of the boiler room and engine room. Masters had accepted the offer with a good will, though Jeanne was sure she saw a flash of panic on his face before he did. He'll probably die of embarrassment if he gets a smudge on his fine frock coat, she thought whimsically. I doubt he's ever seen a steam boiler in his life.

  Jeanne took out her list, which was long and complicated, and decided to do the hardest thing first: the galley. She had to take stock of what they had, m
ake a list of what they needed, and then go shopping for it all. Sighing, she went down the hall. The door was open, and Ezra Givens stood at the counter grinding a loaf of sugar through a sieve. Roberty and Marvel sat close together on two stools, peeling potatoes. Leo's long gangly body lay against the wall underneath the far counter, his head resting on a sack of coffee beans. He looked up and saw her, gave her his usual two-thump with his tail, and wearily laid back down. "Does that dog ever move except to change sleeping places?" she asked.

  "He pretty much finds out warm cubbyholes to lie up in winter," Ezra said thoughtfully. "Come spring and summer he gets right frisky."

  "Leo, frisky? This I must see. Marvel, your hands are red and they're going to get chapped," Jeanne warned.

  "But I'm learning how to peel potatoes, you wouldn't ever let me do it," she objected. "I'm being really careful, I promise. Can't I please, Mama?"

  "My child is begging me to let her peel potatoes," Jeanne said to Ezra. "You don't think I've spoiled her, do you?"

  "No, ma'am," he answered sturdily. "Seems to me like she's been brung up just fine."

  "Thank you, Ezra. Now, maybe you can help me. We're going to go on a four-day run day after tomorrow, and I know that we need to stock the galley. I don't have any idea how much food to buy, or what kind of food to buy, and if we need any pots or pans or utensils. So I need to make a shopping list, and I suppose I'll spend all day tomorrow cooking," she finished half to herself.

  "Well, yes ma'am, I can help you with all that 'cause it's already did," Ezra said. "Clint's done bought food, I mean, and all the fixins we need like salt and sugar and seasonings. I sorta got to cooking for Bull and the crew, and so there it is. No need for you to be cooking, Miz Bettencourt, unless you just have a hankering to."

  "No, I don't have a hankering to," Jeanne said with vast relief. "But how can you work the boat and be the cook at the same time?"