Raftmates Part 11

"I am all right, and having a fine time, but have lost the raft. I am on board a boat called the _Whatnot_, with some very kind people--a gentleman named Fifield, a girl named Sabella, a funny old darky named Solon, and a monkey named Don Blossom. I am bound to find the raft again if it is still afloat, and am going to keep on down the river in this boat until we catch up with it.

"I shall be here long enough for you to answer this letter; and send me some money, please, and tell me all about everybody. Give my dear love to Elta, and tell her I wish she knew Sabella and Don Blossom. She is just the kind of a girl, and he is just the kind of a monkey, a fellow likes to know.

"Now it is late, and I must turn in, for I am working my pa.s.sage on this boat, and Solon and I must take the place of a mule to-morrow, and till we can earn money enough to buy one. So good-bye, from your affectionate son,----WINN."

While the boy was writing, Cap'n Cod went ash.o.r.e, and when the former took his letter to the post-office, he met his host there with two letters in his hand. They followed Winn's into the box, but he did not see the address on either of them. If he had, he would have been more troubled than ever, for one was addressed to the Sheriff of Dubuque County, and the other to his own father.

The old man had seen and recognized the skiff that he had built for Sheriff Riley as it lay tied to the wharf-boat, but had thought it best to keep this discovery to himself until he could communicate with its owner. By cautious inquiries he learned that the skiff had been left there by a young man calling himself Brackett, who had gone on down the river, but was expected back in a day or two. Cap'n Cod would have telegraphed to Sheriff Riley but for the fact that the wires had not yet been extended to Mandrake. So he wrote and begged the Sheriff to hasten down the river by first boat.

He also wrote to Major Caspar, expressing his sympathy, telling him that he was now travelling down the Mississippi in his own boat, the _Whatnot_, asking for full particulars concerning the lost boy, and offering to make every effort to discover his whereabouts.

On the morning of that very day, just before his departure from Mandrake, Billy Brackett had also written and mailed a letter that read as follows:

"MY DEAR SISTER,--I am up a stump just at present, but hope to climb down very soon. In other words, your boy is smarter than I took him to be. He has not only managed to hide the raft, but himself as well, and both so completely that thus far I have had but little success in tracing them. I have reason to believe that he and I spent some time very close to each other on an island the night I left you, but before daylight he had again disappeared, leaving no trace. After that I learned nothing concerning him until reaching this place, when I again struck the trail. I am now following a warm scent, and expect to run the young fox to earth within a few hours.

"So much for the boy. As for the raft, its disappearance is even more complete and unaccountable than his. There is absolutely nothing to report concerning it. I have boarded several rafts, but none of them bears the slightest resemblance to the _Venture_, which I am certain I should recognize at a glance. However, when I find Winn he will of course be able to put me on the right track, and the subsequent recovery of the raft will prove an easy matter.

"If you have any news, send it to me at this place, where I shall remain until I hear from you.

"Love to Elta. Tell her that last evening I ran across the queerest craft I ever saw, with the queerest name I ever heard of. It is called the _Whatnot_. Of course its Captain knew nothing of Winn, and I did not expect he would; but I make it my business to inquire of every one I meet or pa.s.s.

"Hoping to be able to send you better news within a day or two, I am your loving brother,

"WILLIAM."

As this letter reached Caspar's Mill in the same mail with those from Winn and the owner of the _Whatnot_, who, in writing to the Major, had used his old army name, and signed himself "Respectfully yours, Cap'n Cod," it may easily be imagined that Billy Brackett's perplexity was as nothing compared to that of his sister. What could it all mean? Winn was alive and well; his letter brought that comfort. But what did he mean by stating that he was on board that boat with the absurd name, when both William and Captain Cod stated that he was not there. Then, too, how could it be possible for those three persons, each of whom was anxious to find one of the others, to be in a small place, such as this Mandrake must be, for several days without running across each other?

Such stupidity was incredible, and could only be accounted for by the fact that all three were of the masculine s.e.x. Well, she would soon set things to rights, and the fond mother smiled to herself to think that it was left for her, who had remained quietly at home, to discover the missing boy after all.

She had but a few minutes in which to catch the return mail; but when it left, it bore three notes in her handwriting. The one directed to Mr. Winn Caspar, Mandrake, Iowa, read as follows:

"MY DARLING BOY,--How could you leave us as you did? And why don't you come home? Don't lose a minute in hunting up your Uncle Billy, who is now in Mandrake. He will supply you with money, and tell you what to do.

"Ever lovingly, but in great haste,

"YOUR OWN MOTHER."

To the Captain of the _Whatnot_ Mrs. Caspar wrote:

"Sir,--In the absence of my husband, I took the liberty of opening your note to him of the 1st inst. In it you write that you are anxious to discover our boy's whereabouts, when, by the same mail, I am advised by him that he is on board the very boat of which you claim to be Captain and owner. I of course take my boy's word in preference to that of any stranger. Having thus detected the hollowness of your sympathy, and the falseness of your pretended friendship for my husband, I must request you to refrain from further meddling in this matter. Yours etc.,----ELLEN CASPAR."

Fortunately, as this letter was addressed to Captain Cod, Esq., instead of to Mr. Aleck Fifield, the old man never received it, and in due time it was returned to the writer from the Dead-letter Office.

To Billy Brackett Mrs. Caspar wrote:

"MY DEAR GOOSE OF A BROTHER,--I have just received a letter from Winn written at Mandrake. He is on the _Mantel-piece_, and out of money.

Please supply him with whatever he needs, and bring him home to me as quickly as possible. As for the raft, I am sorry, of course, that you cannot find it; but so long as Winn is safe, nothing else seems to matter.

"John writes full of enthusiasm concerning the contract, and I shall tell him nothing of your absurd doings until you and Winn are safely back here. Ever lovingly your sister,----ELLEN."

CHAPTER XX.

BIM GROWLS.

During the following day, while these letters were on their way to the little Iowa town in which the princ.i.p.al actors in this story were playing at such cross-purposes, active preparations were being made on board the _Whatnot_ for the first exhibition of its panorama. In those days the panorama filled the place now taken by the stereopticon; and though its crude pictures lacked the photographic truth of lantern slides, they were by no means devoid of interest. In fact, their gorgeousness of color, and the vagueness of detail that allowed each to represent several scenes, according to the pleasure of the lecturer, rendered them quite as popular, if not so instructive, as their modern successors.

The success of a panorama, however, depended largely upon the person who explained its pictures. If he were witty, and knew how to tell the good story of which each one was certain to remind him, all went well, and the fame of that panorama spread far and wide. If, on the other hand, he was prosy, and offered only dry explanations of his pictures, the impatient river-town audience did not hesitate to express their dissatisfaction, and the exhibition was apt to close with a riot.

All this was well known to Cap'n Cod; but twenty years of absence from the stage had caused him to lose sight of his first and only humiliating appearance before an audience, and had restored all his youthful confidence in his own abilities. He was therefore to be the lecturer of his own show, while Winn and Solon were to enter the treadmill, and supply, as well as they could, the place of a mule in furnishing power to move the heavy roll of paintings. Sabella was also to remain out of sight, but was to grind out music from the hand-organ whenever it might be needed. This was only a temporary position, and would be filled by either Winn or Solon after a mule had been obtained for the treadmill. Sabella's real duty was to dress Don Blossom, and see that he went on the stage at the proper time.

The hour for giving these arrangements a public test finally arrived.

By eight o'clock the exhibition hall of the _Whatnot_ was packed with an audience that contained a number of raftsmen and steamboat hands from the water-front. These were good-naturedly noisy, and indulged in cat-calls, stampings, and other manifestations of their impatience for the curtain to rise. An occasional lull in the tumult allowed the droning notes of the "Sweet By-and-By," then new and extremely popular, to be heard, as they were slowly ground out from the hand-organ by the invisible Sabella.

At length they ceased; the little drop-curtain was slowly rolled up so as to expose the first picture, and Cap'n Cod, pointer in hand, in all the glory of the blue swallow-tail with bra.s.s b.u.t.tons, stepped on the stage. His appearance was greeted with a silence that was almost painful in its contrast with the previous tumult.

Now for the neat introductory speech that the old man had prepared so carefully and rehea.r.s.ed until he knew every word by heart. He stepped forward, and gazed appealingly at the silent audience; but no word came from his dry lips. He swallowed convulsively, and appeared to be struggling with himself. A t.i.tter of laughter sounded from the back of the room. The old man's face became fiery red and then deathly pale.

He looked helplessly and pitifully from side to side.

"Wind him up!" shouted a voice.

"He's stopped short, never to go again," called another.

"He's an old fraud, and his show's a fake!"

"Speech! speech!"

"No; a song! Let old dot-and-carry-one give us a song!"

"Oh, shut up! Don't you see he's a ballet-dancer?"

And so the derisive jeerings of this audience, like those of another twenty years before, hailed Cap'n Cod's second failure. His confidence in himself, his years of experience, the memory of what he ought to say, all vanished the moment he faced that ma.s.s of upturned faces, and he was once more the dumb, trembling Codringhampton of twenty years before. A mist swam before his eyes, he groped blindly with his hands, the derisive yells of the river-men, who were endeavoring to secure their money's worth of amus.e.m.e.nt from this pitiful spectacle, grew fainter and fainter in his ears. He tottered backward, and would have fallen, had not a young man from the audience sprang to his a.s.sistance.

Very tenderly he helped the old man from the stage and into the friendly shadows of the side scenes. In another moment he reappeared.

With flashing eyes he stepped in front of the turbulent audience and held up his hand. The curiosity of the river-men was sufficient to produce an almost instant silence, which in another second might have changed into an angry roar.

Who was this young fellow? What business had he to interfere with their fun? What was he going to say? He'd better be careful! They were not in a humor to be trifled with.

For a moment he looked steadily at them.

Then he said:

"Boys, I am surprised, and if I thought for a moment that you really meant to worry that old man, I should be ashamed of you. But I know you didn't. It was only your fun. He has been a soldier, and lost a leg fighting for you and me and to preserve the glorious Union, that you and I are prouder of than anything else in life. He has a daughter in there too--a young girl, for whom he is trying to make a living with this show. I saw her just now, and if you could have seen the look of distress and terror on her face as she sprang to the old man's side you would feel as I do about this business. Yon would know, as I do, that this was no fake, but a square--A, number one--show, packed full and running over with good things, worth ten times the price of admission.