bookssland.com Ā» Travel Ā» Following the Equator - Mark Twain (ebook offline reader txt) šŸ“—

Book online Ā«Following the Equator - Mark Twain (ebook offline reader txt) šŸ“—Ā». Author Mark Twain



1 ... 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 ... 95
Go to page:
the outside of the wharfboat, and all loading and unloading was done across it, between steamer and shore. A number of wharfboat clerks were needed, and part of the time, every day, they were very busy, and part of the time tediously idle. They were boiling over with youth and spirits, and they had to make the intervals of idleness endurable in some way; and as a rule, they did it by contriving practical jokes and playing them upon each other.

The favorite butt for the jokes was Ed Jackson, because he played none himself, and was easy game for other peopleā€™sā€”for he always believed whatever was told him.

One day he told the others his scheme for his holiday. He was not going fishing or hunting this timeā€”no, he had thought out a better plan. Out of his $40 a month he had saved enough for his purpose, in an economical way, and he was going to have a look at New York.

It was a great and surprising idea. It meant travelā€”immense travelā€”in those days it meant seeing the world; it was the equivalent of a voyage around it in ours. At first the other youths thought his mind was affected, but when they found that he was in earnest, the next thing to be thought of was, what sort of opportunity this venture might afford for a practical joke.

The young men studied over the matter, then held a secret consultation and made a plan. The idea was, that one of the conspirators should offer Ed a letter of introduction to Commodore Vanderbilt, and trick him into delivering it. It would be easy to do this. But what would Ed do when he got back to Memphis? That was a serious matter. He was good-hearted, and had always taken the jokes patiently; but they had been jokes which did not humiliate him, did not bring him to shame; whereas, this would be a cruel one in that way, and to play it was to meddle with fire; for with all his good nature, Ed was a Southernerā€”and the English of that was, that when he came back he would kill as many of the conspirators as he could before falling himself. However, the chances must be takenā€”it wouldnā€™t do to waste such a joke as that.

So the letter was prepared with great care and elaboration. It was signed Alfred Fairchild, and was written in an easy and friendly spirit. It stated that the bearer was the bosom friend of the writerā€™s son, and was of good parts and sterling character, and it begged the Commodore to be kind to the young stranger for the writerā€™s sake. It went on to say, ā€œYou may have forgotten me, in this long stretch of time, but you will easily call me back out of your boyhood memories when I remind you of how we robbed old Stevensonā€™s orchard that night; and how, while he was chasing down the road after us, we cut across the field and doubled back and sold his own apples to his own cook for a hat-full of doughnuts; and the time that weā€”ā€”ā€ and so forth and so on, bringing in names of imaginary comrades, and detailing all sorts of wild and absurd and, of course, wholly imaginary schoolboy pranks and adventures, but putting them into lively and telling shape.

With all gravity Ed was asked if he would like to have a letter to Commodore Vanderbilt, the great millionaire. It was expected that the question would astonish Ed, and it did.

ā€œWhat? Do you know that extraordinary man?ā€

ā€œNo; but my father does. They were schoolboys together. And if you like, Iā€™ll write and ask father. I know heā€™ll be glad to give it to you for my sake.ā€

Ed could not find words capable of expressing his gratitude and delight. The three days passed, and the letter was put into his bands. He started on his trip, still pouring out his thanks while he shook good-bye all around. And when he was out of sight his comrades let fly their laughter in a storm of happy satisfactionā€”and then quieted down, and were less happy, less satisfied. For the old doubts as to the wisdom of this deception began to intrude again.

Arrived in New York, Ed found his way to Commodore Vanderbiltā€™s business quarters, and was ushered into a large anteroom, where a score of people were patiently awaiting their turn for a two-minute interview with the millionaire in his private office. A servant asked for Edā€™s card, and got the letter instead. Ed was sent for a moment later, and found Mr. Vanderbilt alone, with the letterā€”openā€”in his hand.

ā€œPray sit down, Mr. ā€”erā€”ā€

ā€œJackson.ā€

ā€œAhā€”sit down, Mr. Jackson. By the opening sentences it seems to be a letter from an old friend. Allow meā€”I will run my eye through it. He says he saysā€”why, who is it?ā€ He turned the sheet and found the signature. ā€œAlfred Fairchildā€”hmā€”Fairchildā€”I donā€™t recall the name. But that is nothingā€”a thousand names have gone from me. He saysā€”he says-hm-hmoh, dear, but itā€™s good! Oh, itā€™s rare! I donā€™t quite remember it, but I seem to itā€™ll all come back to me presently. He saysā€”he saysā€”hmā€”hm-oh, but that was a game! Oh, spl-endid! How it carries me back! Itā€™s all dim, of course itā€™s a long time agoā€”and the namesā€”some of the names are wavery and indistinctā€”but shoā€™, I know it happenedā€”I can feel it! and lord, how it warms my heart, and brings back my lost youth! Well, well, well, Iā€™ve got to come back into this work-a-day world nowā€”business presses and people are waitingā€”Iā€™ll keep the rest for bed to-night, and live my youth over again. And youā€™ll thank Fairchild for me when you see himā€”I used to call him Alf, I thinkā€”and youā€™ll give him my gratitude forā€”what this letter has done for the tired spirit of a hard-worked man; and tell him there isnā€™t anything that I can do for him or any friend of his that I wonā€™t do. And as for you, my lad, you are my guest; you canā€™t stop at any hotel in New York. Sit. where you are a little while, till I get through with these people, then weā€™ll go home. Iā€™ll take care of you, my boyā€”make yourself easy as to that.ā€

Ed stayed a week, and had an immense timeā€”and never suspected that the Commodoreā€™s shrewd eye was on him, and that he was daily being weighed and measured and analyzed and tried and tested.

Yes, he had an immense time; and never wrote home, but saved it all up to tell when he should get back. Twice, with proper modesty and decency, he proposed to end his visit, but the Commodore said, ā€œNoā€”wait; leave it to me; Iā€™ll tell you when to go.ā€

In those days the Commodore was making some of those vast combinations of hisā€”consolidations of warring odds and ends of railroads into harmonious systems, and concentrations of floating and rudderless commerce in effective centersā€”and among other things his farseeing eye had detected the convergence of that huge tobacco-commerce, already spoken of, toward Memphis, and he had resolved to set his grasp upon it and make it his own.

The week came to an end. Then the Commodore said:

ā€œNow you can start home. But first we will have some more talk about that tobacco matter. I know you now. I know your abilities as well as you know them yourselfā€”perhaps better. You understand that tobacco matter; you understand that I am going to take possession of it, and you also understand the plans which I have matured for doing it. What I want is a man who knows my mind, and is qualified to represent me in Memphis, and be in supreme command of that important businessā€”and I appoint you.ā€

ā€œMe!ā€

ā€œYes. Your salary will be highā€”of course-for you are representing me. Later you will earn increases of it, and will get them. You will need a small army of assistants; choose them yourselfā€”and carefully. Take no man for friendshipā€™s sake; but, all things being equal, take the man you know, take your friend, in preference to the stranger.ā€ After some further talk under this head, the Commodore said:

ā€œGood-bye, my boy, and thank Alf for me, for sending you to me.ā€

When Ed reached Memphis he rushed down to the wharf in a fever to tell his great news and thank the boys over and over again for thinking to give him the letter to Mr. Vanderbilt. It happened to be one of those idle times. Blazing hot noonday, and no sign of life on the wharf. But as Ed threaded his way among the freight piles, he saw a white linen figure stretched in slumber upon a pile of grain-sacks under an awning, and said to himself, ā€œThatā€™s one of them,ā€ and hastened his step; next, he said, ā€œItā€™s Charleyā€”itā€™s Fairchild goodā€; and the next moment laid an affectionate hand on the sleeperā€™s shoulder. The eyes opened lazily, took one glance, the face blanched, the form whirled itself from the sack-pile, and in an instant Ed was alone and Fairchild was flying for the wharf-boat like the wind!

Ed was dazed, stupefied. Was Fairchild crazy? What could be the meaning of this? He started slow and dreamily down toward the wharf-boat; turned the corner of a freight-pile and came suddenly upon two of the boys. They were lightly laughing over some pleasant matter; they heard his step, and glanced up just as he discovered them; the laugh died abruptly; and before Ed could speak they were off, and sailing over barrels and bales like hunted deer. Again Ed was paralyzed. Had the boys all gone mad? What could be the explanation of this extraordinary conduct? And so, dreaming along, he reached the wharf-boat, and stepped aboardā€”nothing but silence there, and vacancy. He crossed the deck, turned the corner to go down the outer guard, heard a ferventā€”

ā€œO lord!ā€ and saw a white linen form plunge overboard.



p274.jpg (62K)





The youth came up coughing and strangling, and cried outā€”

ā€œGo ā€™way from here! You let me alone. I didnā€™t do it, I swear I didnā€™t!ā€

ā€œDidnā€™t do what?ā€

ā€œGive you theā€”ā€”ā€

ā€œNever mind what you didnā€™t doā€”come out of that! What makes you all act so? What have I done?ā€

ā€œYou? Why you havenā€™t done anything. Butā€”ā€”ā€

ā€œWell, then, what have you got against me? What do you all treat me so for?ā€

ā€œIā€”erā€”but havenā€™t you got anything against us?ā€

ā€œOf course not. What put such a thing into your head?ā€

ā€œHonor brightā€”you havenā€™t?

ā€œHonor bright.ā€

ā€œSwear it!ā€

ā€œI donā€™t know what in the world you mean, but I swear it, anyway.ā€

ā€œAnd youā€™ll shake hands with me?ā€

ā€œGoodness knows Iā€™ll be glad to! Why, Iā€™m just starving to shake hands with somebody!ā€

The swimmer muttered, ā€œHang him, he smelt a rat and never delivered the letter!ā€”but itā€™s all right, Iā€™m not going to fetch up the subject.ā€ And he crawled out and came dripping and draining to shake hands. First one and then another of the conspirators showed up cautiouslyā€”armed to the teethā€”took in the amicable situation, then ventured warily forward and joined the love-feast.

And to Edā€™s eager inquiry as to what made them act as they had been acting, they answered evasively, and pretended that they had put it up as a joke, to see what he would do. It was the best explanation they could invent at such short notice. And each said to himself, ā€œHe never delivered that letter, and the joke is on us, if he only knew it or we were dull enough to come out and tell.ā€

Then, of course, they wanted to know all about the trip; and he saidā€”

ā€œCome right up on the boiler deck and order the drinksā€”itā€™s my treat. Iā€™m going to tell you all about it. And to-night itā€™s my treat againā€”and weā€™ll have oysters and a time!ā€

When the drinks were brought and cigars lighted, Ed said:

ā€œWell, when I delivered the letter to Mr. Vanderbiltā€”ā€”ā€

ā€œGreat Scott!ā€

ā€œGracious, how you scared me. Whatā€™s the matter?ā€

ā€œOhā€”erā€”nothing. Nothingā€”it was a

1 ... 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 ... 95
Go to page:

Free e-book Ā«Following the Equator - Mark Twain (ebook offline reader txt) šŸ“—Ā» - read online now

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Add a comment