"Captain Blastblow told me at noon he should be ready to sail to-night.
I expect a letter to-day from New York, and that will enable me to decide where we go."
I soon took my leave, for I had to engage a steward before night. I was amazed at the decision of Colonel Shepard, and I could not help thinking he had some motive for his course which did not appear on the surface. I decided to call upon my father on my way to the wharf, for he was staying at the Carlton with the Tiffanys. I had gone but a few steps before Owen caught up with me.
"I want you to understand, Alick, that I am not concerned in this business," said he, in a deprecatory tone. "I had no idea what the colonel intended to do until I went to his house this afternoon."
"O, I don"t blame you for it, Owen," I replied.
"But I think they would have gone with us if I had held the charter of the vessel as before," he added.
"I think that need make no difference. I suppose you will go in the Islander now," I continued, laughing, for I did not think he would be able to break away from Miss Edith.
"I don"t know, Alick. To tell the truth, I have had no invitation to go in the Islander; and without one I surely shall not go in her."
This seemed to me to be a little odd, and I was thinking of it when we came to the Carlton, where I found my father on the piazza. We told him the whole story. To my astonishment, he said he was glad to hear it. I told him Owen had no invitation to go in the Islander.
"And he will have none," added my father, bluntly. "Owen, if you accept any such invitation, should one be given, the Sylvania will part company with the Islander as soon as we get out of the river."
"That is very odd, uncle Bent," answered Owen.
"I have a very great respect for Colonel and Mrs. Shepard; and what he has done, probably by the counsel of his wife, removes the only doubt I had of him. Owen, you are a perfect spoon! It is not quite proper that you and Miss Edith should be spooning all the time, night and day; and to my mind, Colonel Shepard has decided to go in his own yacht to prevent this thing, as well as to retain his own self-respect. I dare say he is no longer willing to be the guests, with his whole family, of Alick or yourself. That"s the whole of it. It is better for you to visit the young lady occasionally than to spend weeks or months with her in a little steam-yacht."
I thought my father was rather severe upon my cousin, and I determined to speak to him about the matter when we were alone. I told my father that Peeks had been obliged to leave, and that I must look up a steward at once.
He told me I need not go far to find one, and recommended me to give the place to Cobbington. I had not thought of such a thing, and I hastened on board to consider the matter.
CHAPTER IV.
NICK BOOMSBY HAS ASPIRATIONS.
When I reached Market Wharf I found that the Islander had hauled out into the stream from the wharf where she had been undergoing repairs.
Captain Blastblow had certainly done his work well. The twin sister of the Sylvania had been painted, and she looked as though she had just come out of the ship-yard for the first time. She was moored off the yacht-club house, and the American flag was flying at her peak, as though she had just gone into commission.
I earnestly hoped that Colonel Shepard would conclude to make the trip up the Mississippi, for I was very confident we should enjoy yachting on the great river much more in company with the Islander, and the pleasant party on board of her, than we could alone.
I took a sh.o.r.e boat to board the Sylvania, for as this was our last chance on sh.o.r.e for the present, all hands had been allowed to spend the day in the city. Cobbington declared that he did not care to see any more of the city, where he had pa.s.sed so many miserable days, and had volunteered to remain on board as ship-keeper.
Miles Cobbington had come to the south as an invalid, and having no means, he had picked up a precarious living by hunting, fishing, and doing such odd jobs of work as he could find. When I came across him he was hungry, and without a place to lay his head. With good living on board the Sylvania, and with his mind relieved of all anxiety about his daily food and shelter, he had picked up wonderfully during the month of our trip up the river.
"Well, Miles, how do you get on?" I asked as I ascended the gangway.
"First-rate, Captain Garningham. I haven"t been so happy for years as I am now," he replied with a cheerful smile. "I begin to think I may live for some years yet."
"I hope you will live for many years yet," I replied. "Mr. Peeks has been on board this afternoon, has he not?"
"Yes, sir; and I am very sorry to have him leave for such a reason,"
said Cobbington, with a look of genuine sympathy.
"I believe he attended to putting all our provisions and stores on board."
"Yes, captain; we stowed away everything last night, and we are ready to leave as soon as you give the word."
"We can"t go without a steward," I added, glancing at Cobbington to see if I could find any suggestion in his face. But he looked entirely blank.
"The steamers here are hauling off, now, and I should say you would have no difficulty in finding one," he replied.
"Do you think you can readily find another good waiter?" I asked.
"I could find a hundred of them in half an hour," he replied.
"Then I wish you to find one as soon as the crew come on board. I want one to take your place in the fore-cabin."
"To take my place!" exclaimed Cobbington, looking aghast at me. "Then you are going to discharge me. What have I done?"
"You have done lots of things, and done them well. You will take Mr.
Peeks"s place as steward, at the same wages he received," I replied, unwilling to hurt his feeling a moment longer.
"Thank you, Captain Garningham," added Cobbington, his thin face suddenly wreathed in smiles. "I suppose you understand what you are doing, captain."
"I think I do; but I will add that it was my father who suggested your name for the position."
"I am very grateful to him for doing so, and to you for giving me the place. I think I can do the work to your satisfaction, for I have had considerable experience in this sort of business."
I gave him such directions as he needed, and then called a sh.o.r.e boat.
As the Islander was likely to be our consort during the whole, or a part, of the cruise up the Mississippi, I thought I would pay her a visit, and become better acquainted with her officers. My uniform procured me a ready recognition on her deck. Captain Blastblow was a man of forty, with a bald head and red whiskers. He treated me very politely, though I thought I could see something like contempt in his manner, possibly at the idea of a young fellow like me presuming to hold a position equal to his own.
The captain took considerable pains to bring it into the conversation that he had been a seaman all his life, that he had come on board through the hawse hole, and had not crawled in at the cabin window. He made a slurring remark about fresh-water sailors, and informed me that he had been around Cape Horn and the Cape of Good Hope. He had been an ensign in the navy during "the late unpleasantness," and had served in the Gulf of Mexico in the blockade fleet.
"When do you sail, Captain Blastblow?" I inquired.
"I don"t know: but I have my orders to be ready to go at a moment"s warning at any time after daylight to-morrow morning," replied the captain of the Islander.
These instructions seemed to be entirely consistent with what Colonel Shepard had said, that his departure and destination depended upon the letters he expected to receive by the afternoon mail. I looked over the steamer, and found her as neat as a new pin in every part. The officers and crew had put on a new uniform, and I found that they had steam up on board.
I found no one that I knew on her deck, and the captain introduced me to the mate, the engineers, and the steward. I thought there was a little irony in his words as he did so; but I took no notice of this circ.u.mstance. I could see that he believed he was a thoroughly competent captain, and that he had some doubts in regard to my ability to fill the position I occupied on board of the Sylvania. I was willing that the future should settle all such questions; but I had the vanity to believe, though I did not say so, that I could handle the Sylvania as well as he could the Islander.
We parted as the best of friends should part, and when I had seated myself in the boat, I could not help thinking I should like to see him handle his vessel in such a storm as I had seen on Lake Superior. In a few moments I was landed on Market Wharf, and walked up to the post-office to inquire if there were any letters for me. I learned that the northern mail had not arrived. It was often several hours behind time, for the railroads in Florida were in very bad condition.
Colonel Shepard was there, very impatient at the non-arrival of his letters. He told me, if he had to go to New York, he should sail in the Islander on the next tide. If his business did not call him north at once, he should sail with us the next morning.
The colonel went over to the Carlton, and I was about to go with him, when Nick Boomsby came up to me. He was dressed in his best clothes, and he was as good a representative of the idiotic swell as I had ever met.
"When do you sail, Captain Alick?" he asked, as though the question was one of vital importance to him personally.