The Travels of Jaimie McPheeters (Arbor House Library of Contemporary Americana) Read Online Free PDF Page B

waiting for bad news would be too cruel. I must face up like a man, though a foolish and misdirected one, it appears, and tell you that Jaimie is gone, presumably lost off the boat and drowned during the night before we arrived at this sleepy little river-bottom town.
    No amount of upbraiding and reproach, of reminding me how right you were (and always have been) can make me feel worse than I feel. For the rest of my life I must bear the stigma of knowing that I have, in effect, caused the death of our boy. Had I listened to you, and borne my responsibilities, this terrible thing would never have happened. I beg you to tell Hannah as gently as possible, and be no more bitter than you must. At this moment, all I can think of to say to you is that I’m sorry, sorry, sorry.
    Now, your first shock over, I shall try to describe what happened in such detail as will make it all clear. As you know, Willie delivered us in the rig to Portland; dawn was breaking as we arrived. The boat I’d booked stateroom passage on, the
Courier
—a packet for St. Louis—was lying in the canal, though far from ready to go, despite the advertised sailing time of 8 A.M . It was nearer 11 when our cargo was aboard and the plank taken in. You may imagine what a fever of anxiety I generated during this delay; we alternated between disposing our luggage in the astonishingly small cabin assigned us (a mere closet, with wooden bunks one above the other,next to the ladies’ quarters in the stern) and pacing the upper deck, myself watching the communicating roads, as the morning wore on.
    When at last the whistle blew and the huge stern wheel began to turn (disconcertingly near us), we thrashed out into the broad Ohio, greatly swollen by the Spring rains, to the shrill squealing of pigs, the alarmed lowing of cattle, and not a few drunken hurrahs, these varied articulations rising from the lower deck, where not only the poorer passengers but an assortment of livestock were quartered.
    Under the circumstances in which I write, I realize your impatient lack of interest in the trip, as such, so I hasten to the unhappy time which has saddened and impoverished us both. But first I must relate an incident that may or may not have affected Jaimie to some reckless adventure in the night, some ill-advised nocturnal ramble to soothe his mind, for he witnessed a sight frightful to the most seasoned adult and doubly so to a lad barely in his teens.
    The entertainments of this vessel fell into two divisions, separated by the daylight hours and those of darkness. In the first instance, time was passed by the upper-deck gentry in firing off pistols at objects afloat in the river, with wagers of prodigious size riding upon each round. At night, poker games even more ferocious commanded their attention. Faithful to my new vows, I abstained from both pleasures. Amongst this convivial group was a Mr. Streeter, portly, ruddy-faced, amiable, grievously fond of spirits. The fact is, I might say without doing him injustice, that this worthy quite evidently began his refreshment immediately upon arising, for he appeared at breakfast in the most exuberant humor, and with his face bearing the warm glow of a particularly fiery sunset. He had, we were soon informed, by none other than himself (for he was a powerful talker), sold a substantial business in the textile line, in Pittsburgh, consequent upon the death of his wife, and was now en route (as we were) to the frontier, there to find opportunities for prospecting.
    Pitiful to relate, this unfortunate was not destined to go very far. On the evening of the third night, he was attracted to the boisterous merriment of the saloon, and was there cursed by as whimsical a fall of cards as it has ever been my lot to see, and I believe I might (ahem!) pose as an experienced observer. Well,with each worsening of his luck, he absented himself for a hand or two, in order to consult John Barleycorn, thus, I assume, deadening his pain. Upon