George at the Wheel

"All right," said the captain. "I'll put him ashore at Memphis. I never heard of so careless an act but once before. I knew a deck hand to put his head between a stanchion and a fender, and his neck was broken short off. It is a wonder to me that this man escaped with his life."

"We physicians while acting in our professional capacity, sometimes come into possession of very important secrets. This man, believing that he is going to die, has made a confession, and I – shall I tell it to you here?"

"Yes, speak freely," said the captain, who wondered if the steward had missed any of the silver belonging to the boat. "There is no one to overhear you."

"I understand that there has been a robbery committed on board this boat," continued the doctor, whereupon the captain began to open his eyes; "but I don't know whether or not this man's confession will throw any light upon it. He said that he was at work scrubbing out one of the rooms in Texas, wherever that is – "

"There it is," said the captain, pointing to the little cabin under the pilot-house. "The officers sleep there."

"O!" exclaimed the doctor. "Well, while he was at work in that state-room he saw the chief clerk of the boat go into Ackerman's room, take a pillow off his bunk, and put some money and a key into it. Here is the money, and I – my goodness, what's the matter?"

When the doctor said "here's the money," he drew out of his pocket a package wrapped up in something that looked like a piece of brown paper. As soon as the captain's eyes rested upon it, he snatched it from the hands of the astonished physician and opened it. The brown paper proved to be a large envelope, and its contents were greenbacks. The envelope bore Murray's name and address, and in the upper left hand corner were the figures $300.

"Pardon my rudeness, doctor," said the captain, "but you don't know how impatient I was to see what was in that roll. This is a matter of importance, the first thing you know, and you have completely unravelled something that was to me a deep mystery. Go on, please."

"Well," said the doctor, "when Murray went out, the negro stepped into the pilot's room and stole the money. That's all there is of it. I don't pretend to know why the clerk put the money into the pillow instead of placing it in the pilot's hands, and neither do I know what the key was placed there for."

"I know all about it," explained the captain. "If you will excuse me now I will see you later."

The captain ran down to the boiler-deck and walked around to the outer door of the office, which he entered without ceremony. Both the clerks were there – Walker perched upon a high stool and Murray lying in his bunk with his handkerchief over his wounded eye. They both stared at the captain in great surprise. They had never seen such an expression on his face before.

"Murray," said the captain, without any preliminary remarks, "you might just as well own up. The whole thing is out on you!"

Murray raised himself in his bunk and tried to look astonished, while Walker leaned his elbows on the desk and nodded his head, as if to say that he had been expecting something of this kind.

"The man who saw you put the money and the safe-key into Ackerman's pillow, in your endeavor to fasten this robbery upon him, has made a confession," continued the captain. "I don't wonder that you tremble; I should if I were in your place. You can save yourself trouble by handing out the rest of that three thousand. You've got it, and I know it. If you will do that, I think I can safely promise that Ackerman will let the thing drop right here, and be content to leave you to the punishment of your own guilty conscience."

The chief clerk could not say a word in reply. The rapidity with which the young pilot's vindication had followed upon the heels of his accusation bewildered him. The mysterious disappearance of the money which he had so confidently expected that Walker would find in George's pillow had caused him the most intense alarm, for it told him that somebody had discovered his secret; that somebody had confessed, and it was all over with him.

"There's the money you put into George's pillow when you put the safe-key there," said the captain, handing the envelope and the bills over to Walker, "and I tell you that you will have a time of it if you don't refund the balance. Now, do as you please."

Murray sank back upon his bunk, covered his face with his handkerchief, and without saying a word put his hand into his pocket and drew out a roll of greenbacks. Walker took it and counted it while the captain looked on. There were twenty-seven hundred dollars in it, and that amount, added to the three hundred dollars which the injured darkey had surrendered to the doctor, made up the three thousand dollars that George had been accused of stealing.

"That's all right. Where's the key of the safe? Now," said the captain, as Murray produced it, "vacate this office at once, and leave Walker in charge. Don't come near it again."

The captain left the office and went up to the pilot-house. George and the two pilots were there, and so was the chief engineer, who was laying out some very elaborate plans for establishing George's innocence, which were to be set on foot as soon as they reached St. Louis. When the captain entered, he was saying,

"We'll put a detective after him, and find out everything he has done since Clayton discharged him. Don't you think that would be the best way, skipper?"

"There is no need of it," was the reply. "I know pretty nearly what he has done since he has been on board this boat, and that's enough for me. Don't look so down-hearted, George. I told you that the blame should be placed right where it belonged, and I have kept my word. Murray is the guilty man!"

Without paying any attention to the exclamations uttered by his auditors, the captain gave a hurried account of all the incidents that had happened since the Telegraph left Helena, and the story, while it cleared George, confirmed the suspicions that every one of them had entertained from the moment it became known that he was suspected of robbing the safe. The young pilot was almost overwhelmed by the congratulations he received, and it is hardly necessary to add that he cherished the strongest feelings of gratitude toward the men who had stood by him and believed in him when everything seemed to point to him as the guilty one.

George never saw Murray after that. In fact, nobody seemed to think of him, until the boat had left Cairo and was well on her way toward St. Louis, and then some one asked, merely out of curiosity, where he kept himself ever since the captain ordered him out of the office. Even Walker couldn't tell. At Murray's request he had assigned him to a stateroom, and he had not seen him since he went into it. An examination showed, that the stateroom was empty, although the lower bunk looked as though it had been occupied.

"He's all right; you may depend upon it, Ackerman," said Walker, who had lost no time in making things straight with George. "I know, as well as I want to know it, that he left the boat at Memphis. As we got there in the night, it was no trouble at all for him to step off without being seen by anybody."

The clerk was right. That was just the way that Mr. Murray had taken, to avoid the troubles that would certainly have befallen him if he had gone on to St. Louis. George never heard of him again, as long as he stayed on the river.

Mr. Black was not out of a "job" more than two days after he reached St. Louis. Another of Mr. Richardson's boats, the Benefit, was about to start for New Orleans, and he was one of the pilots who was engaged to take her down and bring her back. The other was Mr. Scanlan, who afterward went down the river with Mr. Black and George on the ill-fated Sam Kendall. Mr. Scanlan spent all his time ashore, Mr. Black stayed at home with his family, and George was left to take the boat up to the coal-fleet. He could not help thinking of the company he had the last time he went up there, and wondered where Tony was now, and whether he was not sorry he had ever run away from home; for by this time it had become known, that he had not been killed by Mr. Vandegriff's negroes, as everybody at first believed. He had been heard from at Cairo. From that city he had written to Mr. Vandegriff, that he was about to strike out for himself; and he had sent that gentleman all his money, with the exception of fifty dollars, which he had kept out for his own use. Unfortunately the report had became raised abroad, that Tony had stolen those fifty dollars; but that was something that George could not believe. It was not like Tony.

The Benefit arrived at New Orleans late one afternoon, and when George had eaten his supper, he strolled out to take a look about the levee. When he came back to his boat he did not go aboard, but seated himself on a bale of cotton to watch a gulf steamer that was getting under way. While he looked at her, he thought of Tony Richardson.

"I suppose that foolish fellow is on deep water by this time, and supping sorrow with a big spoon," soliloquized George, as he put his hands under his legs and kicked his heels against the bale of cotton. "I don't know anything about a sailor's life, but from what I have heard and read of it, I should say it was the very life for which Tony is the most unfitted. There goes a sailor now. I wish Tony could have seen him before he ran away."

The subject of these thoughts was a young fellow who just then came sauntering along with his hands in his pockets. His face was covered with coal-dust, his clothing was very dirty and ragged, and his shoes were almost ready to drop from his feet. When he came opposite to the place where George was sitting, he caught sight of the strip of canvas which was stretched around the railing of the Benefit's hurricane deck, bearing the words, "For St. Louis." He looked at it for a moment, and then walked toward the gang-plank, still keeping his gaze directed toward the strip of canvas, which presently came within range of the steamer's name on the pilot-house. When the sailor saw that, he faced about at once and started up the levee again, this time walking pretty rapidly; but before he had made many steps, he felt George Ackerman's grasp upon his arm.

"Tony!" exclaimed the young pilot, in great amazement.

The sailor turned his face toward George, but it was so completely covered with coal-dust that nobody could tell what the expression of it was. He looked at the trim, neatly-dressed boy before him, then his eyes fell down upon his own dilapidated garments, and he made an effort to pull himself away. "You have made a mistake," said he. "That doesn't happen to be my name."

"Tony, Tony, that won't do," returned George, tightening his grasp on the sailor's arm. "I was a little uncertain at first, but I am not now. I know your voice. Aha! I thought so," said George to himself, as the boy covered his face with his hands and sobbed violently.

It was Tony, sure enough. George put his arm around him and led him back to the cotton-bale from which he had just arisen. He lifted Tony upon it bodily, and seated himself by his side.

"No use of shedding the briny over it," said George, who was delighted to see his friend once more. "You're going home now, are you not?"

"Yes, I am," replied Tony, between his sobs. "And if I ever get there, I'll stay. That is, I'd like to stay, for I have had quite enough of salt water, but I don't know whether the folks will want me there or not."

"I do," said George, cheerfully. "They'll be overjoyed to see you again, and you'll get there just as soon as the Benefit can take you."

"Oh, I can't go on her," exclaimed Tony. "She is my father's boat, and almost all the officers know me. I was going aboard of her to see if I could ship as deck-hand when I noticed the name on her pilot-house."

"You'd look nice, shipping as deck-hand, wouldn't you, now?" said George. "You shan't do it while I have a bunk. What difference does it make to you if the officers do know you? You'll have to meet people who know all about it, and you might as well begin one time as another. Now, where have you been and what have you been doing since I last saw you?"

There was no need that Tony should indulge in flights of fancy or use glowing language to convince George that he had had an exceedingly hard time of it during his short career as a sailor. He had hardly began his story before the young pilot interrupted him with —

"You have lifted a heavy load from my mind. I was informed that you had stolen that money of Mr. Vandegriff.

"I didn't," said Tony, stoutly. "I earned it fairly. I'll go to Mr. Vandegriff with you as soon as we reach St. Louis and ask him if I didn't."

"There is no need of that," answered George "I believe you. Go on."

"The hardest part of my experience," said Tony, after he had described his life on the Princeton and told how he had deserted from her, "was on board the City of Baltimore; but fortunately the voyage was not a long one, and I was able to live through it. I suppose I was a rough-looking fellow, but that was no reason why the mates should kick me and knock me about as they did. I never showed myself until the ship was well out to sea, and then I wished I hadn't showed myself at all. The jawing I got when they found that I was a stowaway was fearful, but it was nothing to the abuse that followed. I was put to heaving coal and kept at it until I was ready to drop. The men who worked with me were changed every few hours, but they wouldn't let me stop at all. I feel as if I could sleep for a week."

By the time Tony had finished his story it was dark, and George took him aboard the Benefit and up to his room in Texas. There were plenty of towels, soap and water handy, and when George had laid out a suit of his own clothing for Tony to put on, he left him to himself. An hour later he went back to his room and found that the runaway had taken possession of his bunk and was sleeping soundly. He looked more like the Tony of old now that he had got rid of the coal-dust and put on a suit of better clothes, but his face was thin and pinched and his eyes were still badly discolored.

Great was the astonishment among the officers of the Benefit when it became known that Tony Richardson had turned up safe, if not sound, and that he was on his way home. Of course they were all glad to see him, and praised him without stint for the courage he had exhibited during the battle on the barge; but they never said a word to him about running away from home. They did not talk or act as though they knew anything about it. When the Benefit reached St. Louis he went straight to the depot to take the first train for Kirkwood, George furnishing the money to pay his fare, and promising to run up to the office and let his father know of his arrival.

CHAPTER XVIII

CONCLUSION

The next half year of George Ackerman's life passed without the occurrence of any event that is worthy of notice. The longer he followed the river the better he liked it. When he was not asleep or at his meals he was always to be found in the pilot-house, no matter whether it was his turn to stand watch or not. He learned rapidly, and it was no unusual thing for him to steer for hours together without a word of instruction or advice. His memory was very retentive, and if Mr. Black, when questioned by a brother pilot, forgot just how much water he found on a certain bar, or in a particular bend during his last trip, he had but to call upon George for the information, and he always got it.

When everything was going so smoothly with him, it was a great pity that those of whom he had a right to expect better treatment, could not let him alone. Pretty soon warning letters began to arrive from Mr. Gilbert, with whom George had kept up a constant correspondence ever since he had been on the river. The first one conveyed to him the information that Uncle John had discharged Jake and Bob, and all the other herdsmen who had found employment on the ranche during his father's lifetime, and hired others in their places.

"That's some of my affectionate cousin's spite work," said George to himself. "But he can't injure me in that way. One herdsman is about as good as another, and when I return to Texas, if I ever do, I can get all those old-time fellows back again. It wouldn't seem like home to me there without them."

In another letter, which George received about two months later, Mr. Gilbert told him that three very fine herds had been lost through the imprudence or criminality of the men in charge of them, who, in spite of the warnings of the settlers, persisted in pasturing them too close to the river for safety.

"That's a more important matter," thought George. "It looks too much as though Uncle John was paying Fletcher hush-money. I must see to that."

He thanked Mr. Gilbert for keeping so watchful an eye on his interests, and took Uncle John to task for losing those herds in a way that made him and Ned very angry. Two months more elapsed and a third letter told George that his uncle was selling stock as fast as he had the opportunity. He thanked Mr. Gilbert again and wrote to his uncle.

"Have you forgotten the agreement made between us during our second interview at the hotel in Brownsville? I shall be down there to see about your selling stock, which you were positively forbidden to do, and I shall call upon you for a strict account of your stewardship."

George had intended to quit the river at once, and go home and assume charge of his property with Mr. Gilbert for a guardian; but unfortunately Mr. Black was taken ill about the time he had made up his mind to start. He was not so ill that he was obliged to take to his bed, but he was not able to stand his regular watch. Moreover, he was in such a state financially that idleness meant ruin to him.

"I don't see how I can spare you just now," said he, when George told him that his presence was needed at home. "I know I ought not to run on the river, but when I look at my pocket-book, it tells me I must. If you will only stay with me a little while longer, I shall be ahead of the hounds; but if you leave me now, I don't know what I shall do."

"Well, don't worry over it," said George, after Mr. Black had talked to him in this way a few times. "I'll stay. I can better afford to lose a little more through Uncle John, than Mr. Black can afford to lie idle with all those notes to meet," he added, to himself. "But just as soon as he gets firmly on his feet, I shall start for Texas, to look into my guardian's way of doing business."

The last boat that George Ackerman ever backed out from a St. Louis wharf-boat, was the Sam Kendall – a crazy old craft, all paint and gilt outside, but "rotten to the heart," as the rivermen said. If she had been a sea-going vessel, she would have been called a "coffin ship." By this time, Mr. Black had so far recovered his strength that he was able to do a little duty, and he hoped that by the time he returned to St. Louis, his health would be fully restored. George had resolved, that if these expectations were realized, his piloting should end with this trip on the Kendall.

They reached New Orleans without any mishap, her cargo was discharged, another one taken on board, and the Kendall was made ready for her trip up the river. The passengers began to arrive; and while Mr. Black sat on the boiler-deck, watching them as they came up the gang-plank, and waiting for George, who had gone ashore to purchase some papers for him, he discovered among them a pompous old gentleman with a gold-headed cane, whom he was sure he recognised. He turned and looked at the gentleman as he came up the stairs, and telling himself that he had made no mistake, arose and extended his hand to him.

"Why, general, how are you?" said he. "I did not expect to see you here."

Uncle John, for it was he, gave him a haughty stare for an answer. Then he raised his eye-glass and looked at the pilot through it.

"I am Mr. Black, you know," said the latter. "George Ackerman's – "

"O yes, yes!" exclaimed Uncle John, who was cordial enough now – not because he liked the pilot, but because he believed the man could serve him. "Are you and George attached to this boat? Well, that's fortunate. Where is George?"

"I am expecting him every moment," replied Mr. Black. "I am sorry to say that he is going to leave me. I really don't see how I can get along without him."

"I believe there was a distinct understanding between you and him, that he was to remain with you until he learned the river," said Uncle John, as he and the pilot seated themselves. "You told me that it would take him three years or more to do that, but he has been with you scarcely eighteen months."

"But what am I to do when he positively refuses to stay with me any longer?" inquired Mr. Black.

"Reason with him," was the answer. "Talk him into a different frame of mind."

"I have tried to do that, but it is of no use. He says that matters in Texas demand his immediate attention."

"What put that notion into his head?" asked Uncle John, who wanted to know whether or not the pilot knew anything of George's history and home life.

"I am sure I don't know. He receives letters from there regularly, and I supposed they came from you."

"Well, I never said anything to indicate that his presence there was needed," said Uncle John, who, during the long months that his nephew had been on the river had written but two letters to him, and they were wholly taken up with denying the accusations that George brought against him. "I don't want him to leave the river – he mustn't; I'll not consent to it. Of course I should like to have him at home with me, but I don't need him there, for everything is going on to my entire satisfaction; and this way of running from pillar to post, picking up first one business and then another, won't do. It gets a boy into bad habits. You must keep him here, Mr. Black."

The pilot, who had almost come to look upon George as one of his own children, was delighted to find that his guardian did not approve the course upon which he had determined, and promised that he would use every argument he could think of to induce the boy to stay on the river until he became a licensed pilot; although when he made the promise he remarked that he didn't see how he could say more than he had already said, and that, too, without producing the least effect.

"Well, use your best endeavors," urged Uncle John. "Try every plan you think of, and if you succeed, I shall be your debtor for any amount that you have a mind to draw on me for."

Uncle John said a good deal more to the same purport, and he was so deeply in earnest about it that it was a wonder that the pilot did not suspect something. The latter said he would not draw on the "general" for a cent, but he would try to keep the boy with him, for he was very fond of him, and believed that he would make a good pilot.

"I hope you will be successful," thought Uncle John, as he arose and walked into the cabin. "But whether you are or not, George can make up his mind to one thing – he is not going back to Texas to get me into trouble."

Mr. Black kept his seat on the boiler-deck, and while he was wondering what he could say to George that would induce him to stay on the river, at least eighteen months longer, he discovered the boy coming across the levee. Mr. Black's face must have told the young pilot that his friend had some news for him; for, as he mounted the steps and stopped beside his chair, he said, with a smile, "Well, what is it?"

"Prepare to be astonished," answered Mr. Black, as he took the papers that George held out to him. "The general is here."

"The general! General who?"

"Why, your uncle, John Ackerman."

"Oh, great Cæsar, is he here?" cried George. "Are you sure?"

"Am I sure that I have eyes and ears? Of course he is here, and I have had a long talk with him. He says he doesn't want you at home, that everything is going smoothly there, and that he will not consent to your leaving the river."

If Mr. Black could have read the thoughts that were passing through the young pilot's mind, he would have been astonished beyond measure. He knew nothing whatever of the boy's private affairs, for the latter had made a confident of no one except Mr. Gilbert; but he was sharp enough to see that the "general's" wishes would have no weight whatever with George.