Part 16 (1/2)
”And where's that?” further inquired Fritz.
”New England way, I reckon, whar I wer raised.”
”Any s.h.i.+ps or s.h.i.+pping trade there?”
The man laughed out heartily.
”Jerusalem, that's prime, anyhow!” he exclaimed. ”Any s.h.i.+ps at Providence? Why, you might as well ask if thar wer any fish in the sea!
Thar are heaps and heaps on 'em up to Rhode Island, mister, from a scoop up to a whaler; so I guess we can fix you up slick if you come aboard!”
”All right, I will,” said Fritz; ”that is, if the fare is not too high.”
”Guess two-fifty won't break you, hey?” responded the deck hand, meaning two-and-a-half dollars.
”No,” said Fritz; ”I think I can manage that. What time do you start?”
”Five o'clock sharp.”
”That will just give me time to fetch my valise,” said Fritz, thinking aloud.
”Where away is that?” asked the man.
”Chatham Street,” answered Fritz, ”just below the town hall.”
”Oh, I know, mister, well enough whar Chatham Street is! Yes, you'll have plenty of time if you look smart.”
”Thank you, I will,” said Fritz; and, going back to the boarding-house where he had been stopping, he soon returned to the quay with the little valise that carried all his impedimenta--reaching the steamer just in the nick of time as she was casting off.
As he jumped on to her deck, the gangway was withdrawn.
”All aboard?” sang out the captain from the pilot-house on the hurricane deck.
”Aye, aye, all aboard,” was the response from Fritz's friend the deck hand, who, with only a red flannel s.h.i.+rt on and a pair of check trousers--very unsailorlike in appearance altogether--stood in the bows.
”Then fire away and let her rip!” came the reply from the captain above, followed by the tinkle of an electric bell in the engine-room, the steamer's paddles revolving with a splash the moment afterwards and urging her on her watery way.
Round the Battery at Manhattan Point she glided, and up the East River through h.e.l.l Gate into Long Island Sound--one of the most sheltered channels in the world, and more like a lake or lagoon than an arm of the sea--leaving a broad wake of creamy green foam behind her like a mill- race, and quivering from stem to stern with every revolution of her shaft, with every throb of her high-pressure engines!
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.
The Rhode Island steamer was a splendid boat, Fritz found, when he came to look about him; for, she was a ”floating palace,” every inch of her, with magnificent saloons and state-cabins stretching away the entire length of the vessel fore and aft. A light hurricane deck was above all, on which the pa.s.sengers could promenade up and down to their hearts' content, having comfortable cane-bottomed seats along the sides to sit down upon when tired and no gear, or rope coils, or other nautical ”dunnage,” to interrupt their free locomotion on this king of quarter-decks, which had, besides, an awning on top to tone down the potency of the western sun.
With three tiers of decks--the lowermost, or main, containing the engine-room and stowage place for cargo, as well as the men's quarters; the lower saloon, in which were the refreshment bars, and what could only appropriately be called the ”dining hall,” if such a term were not an anachronism on board s.h.i.+p; and, thirdly, the upper saloon, containing the princ.i.p.al cabins and state-rooms, in addition to the graceful promenading hurricane deck surmounting the whole--the steamer had the appearance of one of those bungalow-like pretended ”houses” which children build up with a pack of cards. Only that, this illusion was speedily destroyed by the huge beam of the engine, working up and down like a monster chain-pump on top of the whole structure--not to speak of the twin smoke-stacks on either side of the paddle-boxes emitting volumes of thick, stifling vapour, and the two pilot-houses, one at each extremity of the hurricane deck; for, like most American river steamers, the boat was what was called a ”double-ender,” built whale-boat fas.h.i.+on to go either backwards or forwards, a very necessary thing to avoid collision in crowded waters.
Fritz could not but realise that the ingenious construction which he was gazing at was essentially a Yankee invention, resembling nothing in European waters.
If he had not yet been fully convinced of this fact, the eldritch screech which the steam whistle shortly evolved, in obedience to the pressure of the captain's finger on a valve in the pilot-house forward-- whence the vessel was steered--would have at once decided his mind on the point. It was the most fearful, ear-deafening, blood-curdling sound he had ever heard in his life!