Yes, I do like the sound of that, I do. And so, my bully crew, on to this Pittsburgh, where we shall see what we shall see.
Chapter 20
Jaimy Fletcher
Kittanning, Pennsylvania
USA
Jacky,
We reached the Allegheny four days ago at the town of Kittanning. It was a wretched little town with very little to offer, but it did have a dock from which I hoped to gain us passage downriver.
It was noon, with the sun high overhead, so we had time to take care of some things before finding a place to sleep for the night. I went to question the people at the dock as to our chances of finding a boat going downriver, while Clementine had the sad duty of taking Daisy off to sell her, the forests around the river getting so thick that we could not think of taking her farther.
I was informed that without money "y'ain't got the chance of a snowball in Hell of gettin' on a boat, but mebbe if one comes down needin' a hand, well, mebbe ... You'll just have to wait and see what comes by."
Clementine came back, disconsolate, with a sack that contained two smoked hams and a jug of whiskey.
"It was the best I could do, Jaimy, I'm sorry, but at least the people seemed like they'd be kind to her." She turned away as her fingers brushed at her eyes. I knew, from the way Clementine would lay her face against the mare's neck on our journey here, that Daisy was the only thing in her former life that she could love and be loved by in return, if only in the simplest of ways: a neigh, a welcoming whicker, a happy toss of the head when the girl would come into the old plow horse's sight.
I assured Clementine that she had done well by both Daisy and me, and I put my arm around her and drew her to my side to lend her comfort. Then we trudged off to see what we could do in this town till opportunity presented itself. At least, finally, I had made it to the river.
There was a livery stable, owned by a Mr. Owens, and he offered me the job of shoveling manure and sawing and chopping wood in exchange for breakfast, dinner, and supper for Clementine and me. We could sleep in their barn if she would help Mrs. Owens with the house and laundry chores. We gratefully took the offer.
So, for the next four days, I endured some of the most grueling work I have ever done. I shoveled manure into barrows and then took those barrows out to fields and spread that same manure around, countless trips back and forth, back and forth.
Once, when I wheeled the barrow nearby the Owens's house, I heard Clementine inside singing as she went about her tasks.
Come all ye fair and tender ladies,
Take warning how you court young men,
They're like a star of a summer's mornin',
First they'll appear and then they're gone.
They'll tell to you some loving story,
They'll tell to you some far-flung lie,
And then they'll go and court another
And, for that other one, pass you by.
If I'd a-knowed before I'd courted
That love it was such a killin' crime,
I'd a-locked my heart in a box of golden
And tied it up with a silver line.
I stood there and listened, and it humbled me that while she sang happily in her present state, I grumbled and cursed. I picked up my barrow and moved on.
When I was not moving manure about, I chopped, sawed, and split wood for the coming winter's fires. I thought often, Jacky, whilst trying to neatly split a log with one blow of my ax, how you have often observed that no skill is worthless and that something can be learned from the meanest of jobs. And, while I cannot claim to like it, I have grown quite lean and sinewy in dealing with this harsh American life. I am probably in as good a physical condition as when we belonged to the Dread Brotherhood of the Dolphin and swung through the rigging like crazed little apes.
Not having the luxury of a razor, my beard has grown out, too. I have never been unshaven before, and I find my whiskers grow out black and fine. Clementine says she likes it, saying that while my chin formerly rasped her cheek, now it is all soft and silky. On our journey here, she was fond of smoothing it out with her fingers as we lay abed for the night. Yes, and she'd stroke it sometimes in the daytime, too, when we would lie on a verdant creek bank, taking the sun and ... well, resting.
I caught my reflection in a horse trough one day and was quite shocked. With my long dark hair and pointy beard, I looked every inch the bloody pirate, except, that is, for my clothes. No piratical elegance there. My only two garments were Pap Jukes's overalls and the shirt that Clementine had sewn for me. The shirt, actually, was quite fine, but the rough overalls and bare feet made me appear to be the simplest of country bumpkins.
The nature of my situation is not lost on me: I cross the American wilderness in pursuit of one girl, while yet another girl stands by my side. If those two brigands had not waylaid me, none of this would have happened. I know that I would have caught up with you and things would be vastly different right now. But then Clementine, too, would have been stuck back at that awful place with no joy, no hope, no future, only vain wishes and prayers uttered by mountain streams, heard by nobody.
I do not know what to think and so I shall think about nothing. After our day's labor, we return exhausted to our nest in the hay and burrow in. She lies down next to me and we sleep deeper than I have ever slept before. I shall take it day by day.
I know I can only take one day at a time, but I also know I grow more and more fond of her every day.
***
It was on the morning of the fifth day in Kittanning, while I was filling yet another barrow with ordure, that I heard a commotion down by the river. It sounded like a boat coming in to the dock! And here I had been despairing of spending the rest of my life as a manure-hauler! With hope surging, I ran down to see. On my way, I saw Clementine up in the kitchen window of the Owens place and called out to her to come running and she did, catching up to me at the foot of the dock.
"I'm a-gonna kill 'er, that's for sure!" came the call across the water. "I'm a-gonna kill 'er! Oooooweeeeee! I'm a ring-tailed roarer who has been brought down sad, but I'm a-gonna kill her, I'm a-gonna flay her, I'm a-gonna skin her, I'm a-gonna tan her hide, and then I'm a-gonna wear her skin for my hat, and then ever'thin' will be all right! Ooooooooweeeee! Ain't nobody in this whirly world kin steal Mike Fink's boat and live, so I got to kill 'er and I will! I'll do it, you'll see! Ooooooweeeee! I'm a hidebound walloper born in a canebrake and ready to roar! Oooooooweeeee!"
I hurried to the end of the dock to see what this hullabaloo might be. The other people on the dock, formerly concerned with their daily occupations, suddenly got up and ran the other way, crying, "Christ, it's Fink!" which should have been a warning to me, but I was anxious to be on my way, so I stood my ground at the end of the dock. Clementine grabbed my hand as we watched this apparition approach.
He was in an open rowboat of about fifteen feet in length. There was little else in the boat except him, but of him there was a lot. Dressed in dark trousers, white shirt, boots, and wide-brimmed hat, he seemed a good four hundred pounds. He was also clothed in a good deal of hair—his great beard billowed from his chin almost to his eyebrows, which were equally bushy. Beneath those brows gleamed two beady and angry eyes.
"If you please, Sir," I ventured. "Mr. Fink, is it? We are desirous of a passage downstream, and—"
"What the hell you talkin' about?" demanded this Fink, while he brought the boat alongside the dock. I grabbed the lines and tied them securely to the posts.
"Please, Mister," pleaded Clementine. "We needs t'get downriver and we was hopin' you might help us."
"Wal, little girl, tha's more like it. How come he cain't talk straight like you?" Fink crawled out onto the dock and stretched his considerable bulk.
"He's from away and don't know how to talk right sometimes," explained Clementine. "But he's my man and I love him."
"Wal, there's some straight talk, I'll own," said Fink. "Now what about goin' downriver?"
"Well, Mr. Fink," I began earnestly, "while we have no money—"
"If'n you ain't got money, you ain't gettin' on my boat," said Fink, firmly.
"Yessir," piped up Clementine, blinking her eyes and wringing her hands. "But we got two good hams and a jug o' whiskey, and Jaimy could help you row the boat, and I could wash up things and—"
"Well, hell, whyn't you say so?" said Fink. "Get in the goddamn boat."
***
We made our good-byes to Mr. and Mrs. Owens, who, by and large, had been very good to us, Mrs. Owens even packing a bag of food for Clementine, and Mr. Owens clapping me on the back and saying that if I ever wanted a job as manure-hauler again, well, it was here waiting for me. I thanked him for his kindness, and Clementine and I went back to the boat.
I handed the jug of whiskey down to Mr. Fink, and then I got in and reached up my hand for Clementine and she hopped in and sat down on the bow seat. I picked up the oars and dug them deep in the water. This was how it was done in the Royal Navy, Mr. Fink, in case you didn't know.
I pulled us out into the stream and we were bound for the town of Pittsburgh, wherever the hell that is....
PART III
Chapter 21
"Hooray!" I exult as we finally bring the Belle of the Golden West to Pittsburgh. "It's a town, a real town! Look! Factories! Smoke! Dirt! Stink! I love it! Hooray!"
I am a city girl at heart.
The trip down was calm and leisurely, made more enjoyable because I was on a watercraft under my own command again. If I felt like it, I could order us anchored and we could go ashore to enjoy the charms of the land. We picnicked on grassy banks, swam in glassy pools, and explored the many small streams that emptied into the river. Jim would go off with his rifle into the woods in search of game, but it was mostly fish that we ate. While onshore we dug worms and with them baited our hooks, and we were most successful. We cut poles to tie our fishing line to, and it was most pleasing to sit on the cabin top with the baited line in the water, waiting for that thrilling jerk. That is, when we did not have to row, or take our turn at the tiller. Yes, and we practiced shooting, too, gaining proficiency with both pistol and rifle and alarming the bird population no small degree with our noise.
Along the way, we provisioned at various tiny towns along the river's banks, and while there, we let it be known that we would carry passengers to Pittsburgh. But, alas, we got no takers, even though we promised them nightly musical entertainment. So we stuck to eating fish, buying only flour and lard and such to conserve our money, which was getting very low.
All in all, it was a most enjoyable cruise. But still, I was glad to see smoky, gritty Pittsburgh. It smelled, but to me it smelled like money.
"Jim! See the docks down there at the end!" I shout, pointing. "Steer for them. Man the sweeps!"
"Aye, aye, Missy," says Jim.
"The sweeps shall be manned, Captain," says Higgins. "But first you and Katy must dress, else I fear arrest."
"Oh, right," I say. I had forgotten.
Katy and I get into our Lawson Peabody serving-girl gear as fast as we can and then run back up on deck. We are much closer now, and I pick out a likely looking open space on a large dock as our destination.
"I'll take the helm, Jim," I say, placing my hand on the steering oar. "Take the starboard sweep with Katy." He does not protest.