“She’s enormous,” Mildred said. “Just like the old pictures I’ve seen of them back in the 1800s. Like a dream come true.”
“Looks like there’s some real swift and evil bastards and bitches coming along with us,” J.B. muttered as they joined the line.
Ryan had already noticed that. A good half of the men and many more of the females looked as if they earned their jack by dubious means. There were also some of the departing merchants, leaving after their ill-fated convention, visibly a little uncomfortable among the proliferating lower classes, keeping to themselves in small, nervous groups. Whores and gamblers and a variety of stone-eyed opportunists thronged the noisy, bustling decks when they finally got aboard the vessel.
An overworked purser peeked at their tickets with the aid of a flickering oil lamp, pointing up a ladder and toward the back of the immense boat. “You’re all on the starboard side. Thirty-one to thirty-three.”
“How long before we sail?” Krysty asked.
The man glanced at a silver turnip watch dangling from a chain across his midriff. “Should be six. Crowd we got coming on, it’ll be nearer to seven.”
“We get to Crosstown when?”
The man pointed irritably to a schedule printed on a large board behind him. “You got eyes, lady. Use them.”
It showed Cairo, Illinois, at the junction of the Ohio, in a day and a half. Another day and a half to St. Louis, where they stopped over for twenty-four hours. And one more day to Crosstown, just over the line in Wisconsin.
“Long way,” J.B. said. “Guess we can make a good speed all the way.”
Doc had been counting on his fingers. “Five days in total.”
“Depending on the weather and the river,” the sailor said over his shoulder. “Best allow at least a day, one way or’t’other. And there’s been bad trouble with gangs of muties all along the Sippi the last month or more. We haven’t been attacked. Not even triple-stupe muties would try that. But smaller craft and some settlements been hit. And hit hard. See the smoke for forty miles or more across the levees.”
Above their heads the whistle sounded in a long, menacing call. And they could hear the steam engines pounding, making the deck vibrate.
“That mean we’ll soon be off?” Ryan asked.
The man laughed. “Means he’s pissing steam at being late. Now, get moving, folks.”
EVEN CYNICAL DOC was profoundly impressed with the grandeur of the Golden Eagle . “By the Three Kennedys!” he exclaimed. “But she is undeniably a floating gilded palace. I have never seen such magnificence.”
They walked through some of the public areas as they made their way along passages and up wide staircases toward their own cabins. Several of the main sections were obviously set up for some full-time gambling, the roulette, poker and crap tables covered in off-white dust cloths.
One corridor and a set of steps was closed off by a thick maroon velvet rope strung across, and four armed sec men stood on casual guard, directing passengers around.
“Staterooms closed off, folks, for the duration. Sorry for any inconvenience, but you can get to where you’re going real easy by taking the next stairs.”
All very polite and very coldly efficient. Ryan wondered just who it was traveling on the stern-wheeler who employed men of that caliber. Maybe some powerful baron? Be interesting to find out a little later.
But the main thing to do was to get to their own accommodation. They could feel the engines working harder and faster, and shouts from the deck indicated they were ready to sail.
Everywhere Ryan looked he saw a slightly tawdry opulence. Gold leaf overlaid ornate carvings of cherubs and angels and languid, half-naked women carrying spilling horns of fruit. The overhead lamps were almost all crystal chandeliers, though some of them needed a good cleaning. The carpets were a little faded at the corners, but they were thick and soft underfoot. Deep armchairs and long sofas, mostly with silk and satin pillows, were scattered throughout the vessel.
“Down here,” Jak said, leading the way. “These are high twenties.”
“I believe that this is the larboard side of the ship.” Doc peered out over the rail. “Yes. We need to be over on the river side. And they are seemingly getting ready to cast off the stern and bowlines. Let us make haste. It would be a disappointment to miss our sailing.”