Confessions Of Con Cregan Part 37

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At last I roused myself and went on deck. The city had long since disappeared from view, and even the low land at the mouth of the river had faded in the distance; while, instead or the yellow, polluted flood of the Mississippi, the blue waves, s.h.i.+ning and sparkling, danced merrily past, or broke in foam-sheets at the bow. The white sails were bent like boards, firm and immovable before the breeze, and the swift vessel darted her way onward as proudly as though her freight were something prouder and better than a poor adventurer, without one in the wide world who cared whether he won or lost the game with Fortune.

My spirits rose every mile we left New Orleans behind us; I felt, besides, that to bring my skill to such a market was but to carry "coals to Newcastle;" nor, from the skipper's account, did Texas offer a much more favorable field. However, it smacked of adventure; the very name had a charm for me; and I thought I should far rather confront actual danger than live a life of petty schemes and small expedients. But what a strange crucible is the human heart! here was I, placed in a situation to which an incident had elevated me,--of a kind which a more scrupulous sense of honor would have made some shudder at,--fancying, ay, and persuading myself too, that, in the main, I possessed very admirable sentiments and most laudable ambitions; that the occasional little straits to which I was reduced were only so many practical jokes played on me by "Fate," which took, doubtless, a high delight in the ingenuity by which I always fell on my feet,--while I felt certain that, were I only fairly treated, a more upright, honorable, straightforward young gentleman never lived than I should prove!

"Let Dame Fortune only deal me trumps," said I, "and I'll promise never 'to look into my neighbor's hand.'" Gentle reader, you smile at my humility; well, then, it's clear you are neither a secretary of state nor a railway director,--that's all.

We dropped anchor off Galveston just as the sun was setting; and the evening being calm, and the reflection of the houses and steeples in the water sharp and defined, the scene was sufficiently striking. The city itself was more important as to size and wealth than I had antic.i.p.ated, and the office of the "Texan Expedition," held at the "Moon," a great coffee-house on the Quay, impressed me most favorably with the respectability and pretensions of my "Co-expeditionaries." Old Kit presented me to the secretary--a very knavish-looking fellow in spectacles of black gauze--as the winner of the great prize, which, to my excessive mortification, I learned was at Houston, about eighty miles farther up the Bay.

I apologized for my careless dress by stating that my baggage had been unfortunately left behind at New Orleans, and that in my haste I had been obliged to come on board with actually nothing but the few dollars I had in my pocket.

"That's a misfortune easily repaired, sir," said the gauze-eyed secretary; "you can have your 'credit' cashed here just as liberally as at any town in the country."

"I have no doubt of that," responded I, somewhat tartly, for I did not fancy this allusion to banks and bankers; "but all my papers are in my portmanteau."

"Provoking, certainly," said he, taking a long pinch of snuff,--"ain't it, Kit?"

But Kit only scratched his nose, and looked puzzled.

"Are your bankers Vicars and Bull, sir?"

"No," said I, "my credits are all on a Northern house; but I fancy my name is tolerably well known. You 've heard of the Cregans, I suppose."

"Cregan--Cregan," repeated he a couple of times; then, opening a huge ledger at the letter C, ran his eye down a long column.

"Crabtree--Crossley--Croxam--Crebell--Creffet--Cregmore. It is not Cregmore, sir?"

"No, Cregan is the name."

"Ah, well, there's no Cregan. There was a Cregmore was 'lynched' here, I see by the mark in the book, and we have a small trunk waiting to be claimed, belonging to him."

"That ain't the fellow as purtended to be winner of the wagon team that was lotteried here a twelvemonth since, is it?" said Kit.

"Yes, but it is, though. He made out he had the ticket all right and straight, when up comes one Colonel Jabus Harper, and showed the real thing; and the chaps took it up hotly, and they lynched Cregmore that evening."

"Yes, sir, that's a fact," quoth Kit.

"What was the penalty?" asked I, with a most imposing indifference.

"They hanged him up at Hall's Court yonder. I ain't sure if he be n't hanging there still."

"And this packet," said I, for the theme was excessively distasteful, "when does she sail?"

"She starts to-night at twelve,--first cabin, two dollars; steerage, one-twenty."

"Thank you," said I, touching my hat with the condescending air one occasionally employs to humiliate an inferior, by its mingled pride and courtesy; and I turned into the street.

"You ain't a-going to Hall's Court, are you?" said Kit, overtaking me.

"Of course not," responded I, indignantly. "Such sights are anything but pleasurable."

"He ain't all right, that 'un," said Gauze-eyes, as old Kit re-entered the office, and I stepped back to listen.

"Well, I don't know," muttered the other; "I 'm a-think-ing it be doubtful, sir. He ha' n't got much clink with him, that's a fact."

"I have half a mind to send Chico up in the boat to-night, just to dodge him a bit."

"Well, ye might do it," yawned the other; "but Chico is such an almighty villain that he'll make him out a rogue or a swindler, at all events."

"Chico is smart, _that_ I do confess," said the other, with a grin.

"And he do look so uncommon like a vagabond, too; Chico, I don't like him."

"He can look like anything he pleases, Chico can. I've seen him pa.s.s for a p.a.w.nee, and no one ever disciver it."

"He 's a rank coward, for all that," rejoined the skipper; "and he can put no disguise upon _that_."

The sound of feet, indicative of leaving, made me hasten from the spot, but in a mood far from comfortable. With the fate of my ingenious predecessor in "Hall's Court" before me, and the small possibility of escaping the shrewd investigations of "Chico," I really knew not what course to follow. The more I reflected, however, the less choice was there at my disposal; the bold line, as generally happens, being not a whit more dangerous than the timid path, since, were I to abandon my prize, and not proceed to Houston, the inevitable Chico would only be the more certain to discover me.

My mind was made up; and, stepping into a shop, I expended two of my four dollars in the purchase of a "revolver,"--second-hand, but an excellent weapon, and true as gold. A few cents supplied me with some b.a.l.l.s and powder; and, thus provided, I took my way towards the wharf where the steamer lay, already making some indicative signs of readiness.

I took a steerage pa.s.sage; and, not knowing where or how to dispose of myself in the interval before starting, I clambered into a boat on deck, and, with my bundle for a pillow, fell into a pleasant doze. It was not so much sleep as a semi-waking state that merely dulled and dimmed impressions,--a frame of mind I have often found very favorable to thought. One is often enabled to examine a question in this wise, as they look at the sun through a smoked gla.s.s, and observe the glittering object without being blinded by its brilliancy. I suppose the time I pa.s.sed in this manner was as near an approach to low spirits as I am capable of feeling; for of regular downright depression, I know as little as did Nelson of fear.

I bethought me seriously of the "sc.r.a.pe" in which I found myself, and reflected with considerable misgivings upon the summary principles of justice in vogue around me; and yet the knavery was not of my own seeking. Like Falstaff's honor, it was "thrust upon me." I was innocent of all plot or device. "Le diable qui se mele en tout "--never was there a truer saying--would have it that I should exchange coats with another, and that this confounded ticket should be the compensation for worn seams and absent b.u.t.tons.

I have no doubt, thought I, but that "Honesty is the best policy,"

pretty much upon the same principle that even a dead calm is better than a hurricane. But to him who desires "progress," on whose heart the word "onward" is written, the calm is lethargy, while the storm may prove propitious. I then tried to persuade myself that even this adventure could not turn out ill,--not that I could by any ingenuity devise how it should prove otherwise; but I knew that Fortune is as skilful as she is kind, and so I left the whole charge to her.

Is it my fault, I exclaimed, that I am not rich, and wellborn, and great? Show me any one who would have enjoyed such privileges more. Is it my fault that, being poor, ign.o.ble, and lowly in condition, I have tastes and aspirations at war with my situation? These ought rather to be stimulants to exertion than caprices of Fortune. I like the theory better, too; and is it not hard to be condemned for the devices I am reduced to employ to combat such natural evils? If the prisoner severs his fetters with an old nail, it is because he does not possess the luxury of a file or a "cold chisel." As for me, the employment of small and insignificant means is highly distasteful; instead of following the lone mountain-path on foot, I'd drive "life's high road" four-in-hand, if I could.

The furious rush of the escape-steam, the quick coming and going of feet, the heavy banging of luggage on the deck, and all the other unmistakable signs of approaching departure, aroused me, as I lay patiently contemplating the bustle of leave-taking, hand-shaking, and embracing, in which I had no share. A lantern at the gangway lit up each face that pa.s.sed, and I strained my eyes to mark one, the only one in whom I was interested. As I knew not whether the ingenious Chico were young, old, short, slim, fat, or six-foot,--whether brown or fair, smooth-faced or bearded,--my observations were necessarily universal, and I was compelled to let none escape me.

At first, each pa.s.senger appeared to be "him;" and then, after a few minutes, I gave up the hope of detection. There were fellows whose exterior might mean anything,--large, loose-coated figures, with leather overalls and riding-whips, many of them with pistols at their girdles, and one or two wearing swords, parading the deck on every side. It needed not the accompaniment of horse-gear, saddles, holsters, halters, and cavessons to show that they belonged to a fraternity which, in every land of the Old World or the New, has a prescriptive claim to knavery.

Although all of them were natives of the United States, neither in their dark-brown complexions, deep mustaches and whiskers, and strange gestures, was there any trace of that land which we persist in deeming so purely Anglo-Saxon. The prairie and the hunting-ground, the life of bivouac and the habit of danger, had imparted its character to their looks; and there was, besides, that air of swagger and braggadocio so essentially the type of your trafficker in horse-flesh.

If my attention had not been turned to another subject, I would willingly have studied a little the sayings and doings of this peculiar cla.s.s, seeing that it might yet be my lot to form one of "the brotherhood;" but my thoughts were too deeply interested in discovering "Chico," whose presence in the same s.h.i.+p with me actually weighed on my mind like the terror of a phantom.

"Can this be him?" was the question which arose to my heart as figure after figure pa.s.sed me near where I lay; but the careless, indolent look of the pa.s.senger as regularly negatived the suspicion. We were now under way, steaming along in still water with all the tremendous power of our high-pressure engines, which shook the vessel as though they would rend its strong framework asunder. The night was beautifully calm and mild, and, although without a moon, the sky sparkled with a thousand stars, many of which were of size and brilliancy to throw long columns of light across the bay.

The throb of the great sea monster as she cleared her way through the water, was the only sound heard in the stillness; for although few had "gone below," the groups seated about the deck either smoked in silence, or talked in low, indistinct tones.

I lay gazing at the heavens, and wondering within myself which of those glittering orbs above me was gracious enough to preside over the life and adventures of Con Cregan. "Some dim, indistinct little spangle it must be," thought I,--"some forgotten planet of small reputation, I 've no doubt it is. I should n't wonder if it were that little sly-looking fellow that winks at me from the edge of yonder cloud, and seems to say, 'Lie still, Con,--keep close, my lad; there's danger near.'" As I half-muttered this to myself, a dark object intervened between me and the sky, a large black disk, shutting out completely the brilliant fretwork on which I had been gazing. As I looked again, I saw it was the huge broad-brimmed hat of a Padre,--one of those felted coalscuttles which make the most venerable faces grotesque and ridiculous.

Lying down in the bottom of the boat, I was able to take a deliberate survey of the priest's features, while he could barely detect the dark outline of _my_ figure. He was thick and swarthy, with jet-black eyes and a long-pointed chin. There was something Spanish in the face, and yet more of the Indian; at least, the projecting cheek-bones and the gaunt, hollow cheeks favored that suspicion.

From the length of time he stood peering at me, I could perceive that it was not a pa.s.sing impulse, but that his curiosity was considerable. This impression was scarcely conceived ere proved, as, taking a small lantern from the binnacle, he approached the boat, and held it over me.

Affecting a heavy slumber, I snored loudly, and lay perfectly still, while he examined my face, bending over me as I lay, and marking each detail of my dress and appearance.

As if turning in my sleep, I contrived to alter my position in such a manner that, covering my face with my arm, I could watch the Padre.

"Came on board alone, said you?" asked he of a little dirty urchin of a cabin-boy, at his side.

Confessions Of Con Cregan Part 37

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Confessions Of Con Cregan Part 37 summary

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