NEXT day, towards night, we
laid up under a little willow
towhead out in the middle, where
there was a village on each side
of the river, and the duke and
the king begun to lay out a plan
for working them towns. Jim he
spoke to the duke, and said he
hoped it wouldn't take but a
few hours, because it got mighty
heavy and tiresome to him when
he had to lay all day in the
wigwam tied with the rope. You
see, when we left him all alone
we had to tie him, because if
anybody happened on to him all
by himself and not tied it wouldn't
look much like he was a runaway
nigger, you know. So the duke
said it WAS kind of hard to have
to lay roped all day, and he'd
cipher out some way to get around
it.
He was uncommon bright, the
duke was, and he soon struck
it. He dressed Jim up in King
Lear's outfit -- it was a long
curtain-calico gown, and a white
horse-hair wig and whiskers;
and then he took his theater
paint and painted Jim's face
and hands and ears and neck all
over a dead, dull, solid blue,
like a man that's been drownded
nine days. Blamed if he warn't
the horriblest looking outrage
I ever see. Then the duke took
and wrote out a sign on a shingle
so:
Sick Arab -- but harmless when
not out of his head.
And he nailed that shingle
to a lath, and stood the lath
up four or five foot in front
of the wigwam. Jim was satisfied.
He said it was a sight better
than lying tied a couple of years
every day, and trembling all
over every time there was a sound.
The duke told him to make himself
free and easy, and if anybody
ever come meddling around, he
must hop out of the wigwam, and
carry on a little, and fetch
a howl or two like a wild beast,
and he reckoned they would light
out and leave him alone. Which
was sound enough judgment; but
you take the average man, and
he wouldn't wait for him to howl.
Why, he didn't only look like
he was dead, he looked considerable
more than that.
These rapscallions wanted to
try the Nonesuch again, because
there was so much money in it,
but they judged it wouldn't be
safe, because maybe the news
might a worked along down by
this time. They couldn't hit
no project that suited exactly;
so at last the duke said he reckoned
he'd lay off and work his brains
an hour or two and see if he
couldn't put up something on
the Arkansaw village; and the
king he allowed he would drop
over to t'other village without
any plan, but just trust in Providence
to lead him the profitable way
-- meaning the devil, I reckon.
We had all bought store clothes
where we stopped last; and now
the king put his'n on, and he
told me to put mine on. I done
it, of course. The king's duds
was all black, and he did look
real swell and starchy. I never
knowed how clothes could change
a body before. Why, before, he
looked like the orneriest old
rip that ever was; but now, when
he'd take off his new white beaver
and make a bow and do a smile,
he looked that grand and good
and pious that you'd say he had
walked right out of the ark,
and maybe was old Leviticus himself.
Jim cleaned up the canoe, and
I got my paddle ready. There
was a big steamboat laying at
the shore away up under the point,
about three mile above the town
-- been there a couple of hours,
taking on freight. Says the king:
"Seein' how
I'm dressed, I reckon maybe
I better arrive
down from St. Louis or Cincinnati,
or some other big place. Go for
the steamboat, Huckleberry; we'll
come down to the village on her."
I didn't have to be ordered
twice to go and take a steamboat
ride. I fetched the shore a half
a mile above the village, and
then went scooting along the
bluff bank in the easy water.
Pretty soon we come to a nice
innocent-looking young country
jake setting on a log swabbing
the sweat off of his face, for
it was powerful warm weather;
and he had a couple of big carpet-bags
by him.
"Run her nose in shore," says
the king. I done it. "Wher' you
bound for, young man?"
"For the steamboat;
going to Orleans."
"Git aboard," says the king. "Hold
on a minute, my servant 'll he'p
you with them bags. Jump out
and he'p the gentleman, Adolphus" --
meaning me, I see.
I done so, and then we all
three started on again. The young
chap was mighty thankful; said
it was tough work toting his
baggage such weather. He asked
the king where he was going,
and the king told him he'd come
down the river and landed at
the other village this morning,
and now he was going up a few
mile to see an old friend on
a farm up there. The young fellow
says:
"When I first
see you I says to myself, 'It's
Mr. Wilks, sure,
and he come mighty near getting
here in time.' But then I says
again, 'No, I reckon it ain't
him, or else he wouldn't be paddling
up the river.' You AIN'T him,
are you?"
"No, my name's
Blodgett -- Elexander Blodgett
-- REVEREND
Elexander Blodgett, I s'pose
I must say, as I'm one o' the
Lord's poor servants. But still
I'm jist as able to be sorry
for Mr. Wilks for not arriving
in time, all the same, if he's
missed anything by it -- which
I hope he hasn't."
"Well, he don't
miss any property by it, because
he'll get that
all right; but he's missed seeing
his brother Peter die -- which
he mayn't mind, nobody can tell
as to that -- but his brother
would a give anything in this
world to see HIM before he died;
never talked about nothing else
all these three weeks; hadn't
seen him since they was boys
together -- and hadn't ever seen
his brother William at all --
that's the deef and dumb one
-- William ain't more than thirty
or thirty-five. Peter and George
were the only ones that come
out here; George was the married
brother; him and his wife both
died last year. Harvey and William's
the only ones that's left now;
and, as I was saying, they haven't
got here in time."
"Did anybody
send 'em word?"
"Oh, yes; a
month or two ago, when Peter
was first took; because
Peter said then that he sorter
felt like he warn't going to
get well this time. You see,
he was pretty old, and George's
g'yirls was too young to be much
company for him, except Mary
Jane, the red-headed one; and
so he was kinder lonesome after
George and his wife died, and
didn't seem to care much to live.
He most desperately wanted to
see Harvey -- and William, too,
for that matter -- because he
was one of them kind that can't
bear to make a will. He left
a letter behind for Harvey, and
said he'd told in it where his
money was hid, and how he wanted
the rest of the property divided
up so George's g'yirls would
be all right -- for George didn't
leave nothing. And that letter
was all they could get him to
put a pen to."
"Why do you
reckon Harvey don't come? Wher'
does he live?"
"Oh, he lives
in England -- Sheffield --
preaches there --
hasn't ever been in this country.
He hasn't had any too much time
-- and besides he mightn't a
got the letter at all, you know."
"Too bad, too
bad he couldn't a lived to
see his brothers,
poor soul. You going to Orleans,
you say?"
"Yes, but that
ain't only a part of it. I'm
going in a ship,
next Wednesday, for Ryo Janeero,
where my uncle lives."
"It's a pretty
long journey. But it'll be
lovely; wisht I
was a-going. Is Mary Jane the
oldest? How old is the others?"
"Mary Jane's
nineteen, Susan's fifteen,
and Joanna's about fourteen
-- that's the one that gives
herself to good works and has
a hare-lip."
"Poor things!
to be left alone in the cold
world so."
"Well, they
could be worse off. Old Peter
had friends, and
they ain't going to let them
come to no harm. There's Hobson,
the Babtis' preacher; and Deacon
Lot Hovey, and Ben Rucker, and
Abner Shackleford, and Levi Bell,
the lawyer; and Dr. Robinson,
and their wives, and the widow
Bartley, and -- well, there's
a lot of them; but these are
the ones that Peter was thickest
with, and used to write about
sometimes, when he wrote home;
so Harvey 'll know where to look
for friends when he gets here."
Well, the old man went on asking
questions till he just fairly
emptied that young fellow. Blamed
if he didn't inquire about everybody
and everything in that blessed
town, and all about the Wilkses;
and about Peter's business --
which was a tanner; and about
George's -- which was a carpenter;
and about Harvey's -- which was
a dissentering minister; and
so on, and so on. Then he says:
"What did you
want to walk all the way up
to the steamboat
for?"
"Because she's
a big Orleans boat, and I was
afeard she mightn't
stop there. When they're deep
they won't stop for a hail. A
Cincinnati boat will, but this
is a St. Louis one."
"Was Peter
Wilks well off?"
"Oh, yes, pretty
well off. He had houses and
land, and it's
reckoned he left three or four
thousand in cash hid up som'ers."
"When did you
say he died?"
"I didn't say,
but it was last night."
"Funeral to-morrow,
likely?"
"Yes, 'bout
the middle of the day."
"Well, it's
all terrible sad; but we've
all got to go, one
time or another. So what we want
to do is to be prepared; then
we're all right."
"Yes, sir,
it's the best way. Ma used
to always say that."
When we struck the boat she
was about done loading, and pretty
soon she got off. The king never
said nothing about going aboard,
so I lost my ride, after all.
When the boat was gone the king
made me paddle up another mile
to a lonesome place, and then
he got ashore and says:
"Now hustle
back, right off, and fetch
the duke up here, and
the new carpet-bags. And if he's
gone over to t'other side, go
over there and git him. And tell
him to git himself up regardless.
Shove along, now."
I see what HE was up to; but
I never said nothing, of course.
When I got back with the duke
we hid the canoe, and then they
set down on a log, and the king
told him everything, just like
the young fellow had said it
-- every last word of it. And
all the time he was a-doing it
he tried to talk like an Englishman;
and he done it pretty well, too,
for a slouch. I can't imitate
him, and so I ain't a-going to
try to; but he really done it
pretty good. Then he says:
"How are you
on the deef and dumb, Bilgewater?"
The duke said, leave him alone
for that; said he had played
a deef and dumb person on the
histronic boards. So then they
waited for a steamboat.
About the middle of the afternoon
a couple of little boats come
along, but they didn't come from
high enough up the river; but
at last there was a big one,
and they hailed her. She sent
out her yawl, and we went aboard,
and she was from Cincinnati;
and when they found we only wanted
to go four or five mile they
was booming mad, and gave us
a cussing, and said they wouldn't
land us. But the king was ca'm.
He says:
"If gentlemen
kin afford to pay a dollar
a mile apiece to
be took on and put off in a yawl,
a steamboat kin afford to carry
'em, can't it?"
So they softened down and said
it was all right; and when we
got to the village they yawled
us ashore. About two dozen men
flocked down when they see the
yawl a-coming, and when the king
says:
"Kin any of you gentlemen tell
me wher' Mr. Peter Wilks lives?" they
give a glance at one another,
and nodded their heads, as much
as to say, "What d' I tell you?" Then
one of them says, kind of soft
and gentle:
"I'm sorry.
sir, but the best we can do
is to tell you where
he DID live yesterday evening."
Sudden as winking the ornery
old cretur went an to smash,
and fell up against the man,
and put his chin on his shoulder,
and cried down his back, and
says:
"Alas, alas,
our poor brother -- gone, and
we never got to
see him; oh, it's too, too hard!"
Then he turns around, blubbering,
and makes a lot of idiotic signs
to the duke on his hands, and
blamed if he didn't drop a carpet-bag
and bust out a-crying. If they
warn't the beatenest lot, them
two frauds, that ever I struck.
Well, the men gathered around
and sympathized with them, and
said all sorts of kind things
to them, and carried their carpet-bags
up the hill for them, and let
them lean on them and cry, and
told the king all about his brother's
last moments, and the king he
told it all over again on his
hands to the duke, and both of
them took on about that dead
tanner like they'd lost the twelve
disciples. Well, if ever I struck
anything like it, I'm a nigger.
It was enough to make a body
ashamed of the human race.
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