George at the Wheel

"What's the matter?" exclaimed his partner, as the owner of the lost pocket-book threw himself wearily down upon the bench. "Are you sick?"

"Yes, sick at heart. I am a used-up man, Sam," replied Mr. Black. "My wife and children will lose the roof that shelters them, and I shall be turned out to begin the world again, as I began it thirty years ago, with empty hands."

"You don't mean to tell me that you have lost it?" exclaimed Sam.

"Yes, I do."

"Then what in the name of sense are you staying in here for? Stir around and make a fuss about it. If you dropped it on the boat, it may have fallen into the hands of some honest person."

"And so it has," cried George, from his place at the wheel. "The old man's got it."

George thought that since he was acting as a pilot, he ought to use a pilot's language, and that was the reason he called the captain the "old man."

"How do you know that?" demanded Mr. Black and Sam, in one breath.

"I saw him have it – it was a black pocket-book with a silver clasp – and I heard him read the name of Jerry Black from a card he took out of it."

The owner of that name jumped off the bench, went through the door like a shot, and disappeared down the stairs. He went straight to the captain, who handed out his property without waiting to be asked for it, at the same time telling the pilot who it was that had found it and given it into his keeping. Mr. Black started for the pilot-house to thank George for the favor he had rendered him, and on the guards he ran against Uncle John.

"General," said he, acting upon an idea that suddenly shot through his mind, "may I have a word with you?"

Almost everybody of any prominence in the South answers to some military or judicial title. If he is pretty well to do in the world, he is a major; if he is very well to do, he is a judge or a colonel; and if he is wealthy, he bears the dignified title of general. Uncle John was flattered by this show of respect, and announced that he was quite ready to hear what Mr. Black had to say to him.

"General," said the pilot, slapping the recovered pocket-book into his open palm. "I owe that nephew of yours something. He found this wallet that I had somehow lost out of my pocket. It contains fifteen hundred dollars that I borrowed in New Orleans to pay off the mortgage on my house, and the receipts for all the money I have paid on that mortgage. If I had lost the money, my house would have been sold over the head of my wife, who is an invalid, and who could never survive the loss of the home for which we have both worked so hard. My property is mortgaged to a sharper who would foreclose in a minute in order to gain possession of it."

"Well, sir," said Uncle John, with the dignity becoming his newly-acquired title. "What has my nephew to do with it?"

"He has this much to do with it, or, rather, I have this much to do with him: I want to make him some return for the service he has rendered me, and I don't know how to go about it. You say that the boy is rich, and that he will some day be richer, and of course, under the circumstances, I couldn't think of offering him money."

"Certainly not," said Uncle John. "He doesn't need it. He can call upon me for all he wants. There is only one way in which you can help him, and that is by making a pilot of him."

"I should be glad to do it," said Mr. Black, "but I thought I had better speak to you before saying anything to him about it."

"O, my consent is not necessary," replied Uncle John. "The boy has always been his own master, and I suppose he always will be."

"But if he is so well off, I don't see why he should want to risk life and limb by running on the river," said Mr. Black.

"Riches sometimes take to themselves wings and fly away, you know. No matter how much money a young man may be worth, or how much more he may have in prospect, he ought to be made to learn some useful trade or business that will enable him to earn a living for himself, if circumstances compel him to do so. That was his father's doctrine and it is mine, too."

"And a very good doctrine it is," said Mr. Black.

"I repeat, that I stand ready to back up, with money, if money is required, any bargain that you may make with my nephew," continued Uncle John. "But I want you and him to understand one thing very distinctly; if George takes up this business of piloting, he must stick to it until he makes himself master of it. If he can't learn the river in three years, I want you to keep him six. I don't believe in doing things by halves."

"Neither do I. A poor pilot is worse than none, for he endangers every boat and cargo that are placed under his care. George seems to take to the business naturally; and if he will only stay with me, I will make a first-class – "

"If he goes into it at all, he must stay with you!" said Uncle John, emphatically. "I want an agreement to that effect, made between him and you. You need not say, however, that I suggested the idea to you. Speak for yourself, but not for me."

"All right, general," said Mr. Black, as he turned toward the stairs, "I'll bear it in mind."

"O, don't I hope he will take it, though!" exclaimed Ned, who had stood a little apart from his father, but still quite near enough to him to catch every word of the conversation. "I wonder if I could say anything that would induce him to do so?"

"Probably not," answered his father. "George has somehow got hold of the idea, that we don't want him near us – he told me so in plain language during our second interview at Brownsville – and you might influence him the wrong way."

That was something Ned did not want to do, and so he wisely resolved that he would say nothing to his cousin on the subject. Knowing that George was in the pilot-house, he hung around the foot of the stairs all the afternoon, waiting to hear what he would have to say to Uncle John when he came down.

Mr. Black returned to the pilot-house, looking very unlike the pale, discouraged man who had gone in there a few minutes before. He carried his pocket-book in his hand, and slammed it down upon the bench with a triumphant air.

"George," said he, "let Sam steer the boat, and you come and sit down here. I want to talk to you."

The boy reluctantly gave up his place at the wheel; and after Mr. Black had shaken him warmly by the hand, and told him how deeply he was indebted to him for the recovery of his money and receipts, he listened while George described how he had found the pocket-book; and then he drew him to a seat on the bench.

"If you really want to be a pilot, I will take you with me as a cub, free of all expenses, except your clothes, which you will have to provide for yourself," said he. "That is customary, you know. That is the only way in which I can repay you."

"I hope you don't think I want to be paid for being honest," said George.

"Certainly not; but still we always like to show our gratitude to those who have done us a service. What do you say?"

This brought the matter squarely home to George, who did not know what to say. He had never in his life thought of being a pilot until that morning, and all the ideas he had of the business, he had gained during the few hours he had spent in the company of Mr. Black and his partner. He had only seen the sunny side of it; of its trials and perplexities he knew nothing. He tried to obtain some information regarding them during the long conversation that followed Mr. Black's proposition, and before it was ended he came to the conclusion that unless his new friends told some greatly exaggerated stories, there where not so many difficulties and obstacles in the way of a cub-pilot, as there were in the path of him who was ambitious to become a successful cattle raiser. Something definite must have been decided upon, for when the supper bell rang, and Mr. Black and George descended to the boiler-deck, Ned said to himself, after taking one look at his cousin's face:

"He's done it! He's done it, as sure as the world, and we are well rid of his hateful presence for long months to come."

And the sequel proved that Ned was not far from right.

When George had eaten his supper he drew a bee-line for the pilot-house. He saw but one person on the boiler-deck, and that was the young man who had tried to swindle him out of Mr. Black's money. George thought that if he had been guilty of an act of that kind he would have gone off somewhere and hidden himself; but the young man held his head up and looked as honest as anybody.

"Well," said he, "I didn't succeed in fooling you, did I? I only wanted to try you, you know. Have you found the owner yet?"

George replied that he had.

"I suppose he did the handsome thing by you?" said the young man, in an inquiring tone. "I know I should if it had been mine."

"I am entirely satisfied with the reward I received," replied George.

"Was there much in it?"

"Fifteen hundred dollars, I believe, and papers worth twice that amount."

The young man's countenance fell at once. He turned and walked away, while George ran up the stairs that led to the hurricane-deck.

"Fifteen hundred dollars, and papers worth twice that amount," repeated the young man, as he leaned upon the rail and looked down into the water. "That would have set me square with my employer, and got me out of a scrape that I am sure is going to end in something serious, sooner or later. I have lost a lot of Clayton's money at poker, and how I am going to replace it, I don't know. Why couldn't I have been lucky enough to find that pocket-book? But I never have luck except in one way: I am always able to get even with those who go back on me, and if I ever have the chance to make this young snipe feel as miserable as I do this moment, how quickly I'll jump at it."

The opportunity he wished for presented itself after a while, and we shall see what use the young man made of it.

CHAPTER X

TONY RICHARDSON

"Anthony, why didn't you do this during school hours?"