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Updated: June 18, 2025
I crossed it, and had hardly touched the shore before I heard a splash behind me. I turned, and saw that Squire Fishley had toppled into the river. His last dram appeared to be the ounce that had broken the camel's back. I saw the current bear him under the guards of the boat, where, in the darkness, he was lost to my view.
"Take this," he added, crowding something into my hand. "What is it, sir?" I asked. "No matter now; it may help your memory." It was a little roll of wet paper, and I thrust it into my pocket as I drove into the yard. Although it was after eleven o'clock, Captain Fishley and his wife were still up, waiting for the arrival of the distinguished guest.
Dreading lest some mishap had overtaken her also, I pushed the door open and rushed in. My fears had been vain and foolish. Flora sat in her arm-chair at the stove, just as I had so often seen her in the kitchen of Captain Fishley, as calm and composed as though she had been on the dry land. Opposite her Sim Gwynn sat on the floor, fat and happy, and wholly undisturbed. "What are you about, Sim?"
This was joyful news, but it was a dreary while to wait. The door suddenly opened, and Mrs. Fishley bounced into the kitchen, followed by her husband, both of them apparently wrought up to the highest pitch of anger by my misdeeds. At the approach of Captain Fishley, I felt the shudder that swept through the feeble frame of Flora, as she stood infolded in my arms.
The head of the family sweetened his tea twice, and upset the milk-pitcher upon the table-cloth, which, under ordinary circumstances, would have brought forth some sharp criticisms from his wife; but Mrs. Fishley neglected to express her disapprobation of her spouse's carelessness, even in the mildest terms.
You will make her as bad as yourself byme-by." "I hope not," I replied, smiling. "She went all the way to New Orleans with him on a raft, and so did that Sim Gwynn," interposed the captain. "Well, there's no end of wonders with bad boys. But where's Flora now?" asked Mrs. Fishley. "She's at the hotel in Riverport, with Clarence and his wife."
I didn't know but you would give up work altogether," sneered he, apparently disappointed to find me no longer a rebel. "I told you I should do my work just as I always did. All I want is fair treatment for my sister and myself," I replied in the least offensive tones I could command. "I expect my brother, Squire Fishley, will come up to-night," added the captain, more mildly.
"I haven't got any of your money," I answered. If Ham could rob the mail, it would not be a very hard step for him to take to rob his father's pocket-book; and I began to think he had done so, charging the crime upon me. "I didn't say you had got any of my money," added Captain Fishley. "I asked you how much you had." "What do you want to know for?" "No matter what I want to know for.
"Of course that's perfectly ridiculous," said Ham, angrily. "I'm tired of this jaw," added Captain Fishley, in disgust. "Buck, come round here." "I know what you want, and I think I won't do it," I replied, leaving the store. "Ham, go over to Stevens's, and tell him I want to see him," said my tyrant, coming to the door. Stevens was a constable. I was not anxious to see him.
"Black his boots!" exclaimed Clarence. "Yes, black his boots; and I was fool enough to do it until I found I only got kicked for minding. Mrs. Fishley used to snarl at me from morning till night. I never did anything right, and was never in the place where I ought to be. But, Clarence, I should have staid there, I suppose, till the time you named, if they had not abused Flora."
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