So B, who wished to do only what was right, threw down his revolver;
then pulled a knife, and cut A’s throat all around, but gave his
principal attention to the front, and so failed to sever the jugular.
Struggling around, A managed to get his hands on the discarded revolver,
and shot B dead with it–and recovered from his own injuries.
Further gossip;–after which, everybody went below to get
afternoon coffee, and left me at the wheel, alone,
Something presently reminded me of our last hour in St. Louis,
part of which I spent on this boat’s hurricane deck, aft.
I was joined there by a stranger, who dropped into conversation
with me–a brisk young fellow, who said he was born in a town
in the interior of Wisconsin, and had never seen a steamboat
until a week before. Also said that on the way down from La
Crosse he had inspected and examined his boat so diligently
and with such passionate interest that he had mastered the whole
thing from stem to rudder-blade. Asked me where I was from.
I answered, New England. ‘Oh, a Yank!’ said he; and went
chatting straight along, without waiting for assent or denial.
He immediately proposed to take me all over the boat and tell
me the names of her different parts, and teach me their uses.
Before I could enter protest or excuse, he was already
rattling glibly away at his benevolent work; and when I
perceived that he was misnaming the things, and inhospitably
amusing himself at the expense of an innocent stranger from
a far country, I held my peace, and let him have his way.
He gave me a world of misinformation; and the further he went,
the wider his imagination expanded, and the more he enjoyed
his cruel work of deceit. Sometimes, after palming off
a particularly fantastic and outrageous lie upon me, he was
so ‘full of laugh’ that he had to step aside for a minute,
upon one pretext or another, to keep me from suspecting.
I staid faithfully by him until his comedy was finished.
Then he remarked that he had undertaken to ‘learn’ me
all about a steamboat, and had done it; but that if he had
overlooked anything, just ask him and he would supply the lack.
‘Anything about this boat that you don’t know the name
of or the purpose of, you come to me and I’ll tell you.’
I said I would, and took my departure; disappeared, and approached
him from another quarter, whence he could not see me.
There he sat, all alone, doubling himself up and writhing
this way and that, in the throes of unappeasable laughter.
He must have made himself sick; for he was not publicly visible
afterward for several days. Meantime, the episode dropped out
of my mind.
The thing that reminded me of it now, when I was alone at the wheel,
was the spectacle of this young fellow standing in the pilot-house door,
with the knob in his hand, silently and severely inspecting me.
I don’t know when I have seen anybody look so injured as he did.
He did not say anything–simply stood there and looked;
reproachfully looked and pondered. Finally he shut the door,
and started away; halted on the texas a minute; came slowly back
and stood in the door again, with that grieved look in his face;
gazed upon me awhile in meek rebuke, then said–
‘You let me learn you all about a steamboat, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I confessed.
‘Yes, you did–DIDN’T you?’
‘Yes.’
‘ You are the feller that–that– –‘
Language failed. Pause–impotent struggle for further words–
then he gave it up, choked out a deep, strong oath, and departed for good.
Afterward I saw him several times below during the trip; but he was cold–
would not look at me. Idiot, if he had not been in such a sweat
to play his witless practical joke upon me, in the beginning,
I would have persuaded his thoughts into some other direction,
and saved him from committing that wanton and silly impoliteness.
I had myself called with the four o’clock watch, mornings,
for one cannot see too many summer sunrises on the Mississippi.