The All-True Travels and Adventures of Lidie Newton_ A Novel - Jane Smiley [164]
"And I play the piccolo and dance," said Vida, proudly. "Pa says that I am going to go on the stage in a year or so."
"There’s a great call for entertainment in the west," said Mr. Graves. "My cousin himself once did a lecture circuit, but since discovering Vida’s promise, he’s been devoting himself to nurturing it."
I couldn’t help gaping just a little bit.
Once the patrons had cleared out, the Negroes returned and began by sweeping up the broken crockery. After that, we went out.
We were joined by the second Mr. Graves. Vida said, "I sang my song for the lady. She liked it."
"Yes, I did—"
"Did she pay you?"
"Here," said my Mr. Graves. "Here’s a dime." He handed his cousin a coin, and the second Mr. Graves pocketed it.
Now we made our way down to the river and began looking for the Missouri Rose. I had hoped that the cousin and the girl would find other business and I would be able to either elicit information from Mr. Graves or else elude him, but the two stuck to us like cockleburs. The girl was sharp-sighted, shouting, "There she is!" not two seconds after I’d spotted the boat and attempted to turn the two men. Mr. Graves was carrying my bag, and he marched us right down there and handed it to a Missouri Rose deckhand. The deckhand walked away with it, and I saw that I was sunk.
We went on board, up what I suppose you would call the gangplank, to the passenger deck, and there, to my dismay, we immediately encountered the captain, who was a small, rotund man with side-whiskers and a pince-nez. This man greeted Mr. Graves heartily, haw-hawing and throwing his arm around Mr. Graves’s shoulder.
"When will you be getting under way?" said Mr. Graves.
"No later than tomorrow, crack of dawn, haw haw," shouted Captain Smith.
"What’s the passage for this young lady here, down to Saint Louis, you old crook?" shouted Mr. Graves in return.
"Twelve dollars if she’s paying, twelve silver dollars if you’re paying, haw haw," shouted the captain.
"I’m paying," said Mr. Graves, "if you’re really going off tomorrow, but if you an’t, I’ll find someone else who is. Got to get her out of this country, and that’s a fact."
"She a G— d— abolitionist, haw haw?" shouted the captain.
"She’s a widow woman, and made so at a young age, and her husband was a fine man, and that’s all you need to know. Now, are you leaving when you say, or is it just a trick?"
I hated that word "widow."
"Tomorrow noon. Two o’clock at the latest."
"I’ll keep looking. If I don’t find nothing better, I’ll be back."
He marched me down to the shore, where I stopped dead. "In the first place," I exclaimed, "I have the money to pay my passage. In the second place, I consider your treatment of me very high-handed! I am accustomed to making my own decisions, and I haven’t made up my mind what I intend to do."
"Ma’am, I told you before—"
"I know what you told me, and I understand that you are motivated by kindness, but—" But I bit my tongue before speaking. I knew that my plan, such as it was, was so much in my mind that almost any word would reveal it, possibly without my knowing. I eyed Mr. Graves. Wasn’t the key thing, after all, to be rid of him? I bent my head, then sought his gaze and said, more submissively, "I know what you want to do is all for the best, Mr. Graves, and you’ve always been a friend to me, so whatever you think is best, that’s the course I will follow."
"Good girl," said Mr. Graves.
For the next hour, we visited each boat, one by one—there were four altogether—and at each we got a similar reply: perhaps tomorrow; but if you wanted to get right down to it, the next day or the day after that was more likely. Finally, we got back to the Missouri Rose. The captain showed me my little cabin and the ladies’ saloon, which was neatly fitted out in red brocade with gold trim—’Just had this done down in New Orleans; looks like it, don’t it, haw haw?"