The All-True Travels and Adventures of Lidie Newton_ A Novel - Jane Smiley [166]
"Yes, it is." I had regained a bit of my composure, but I was panting just a little. Miss Carter said, "Oh, my dear. You seem hot. I have just the thing. You recline a bit here, and I will fix you right up."
I did what she said, at the same time furiously attempting to come up with a plan.
"Now close your eyes, dear."
When I did, she laid a folded handkerchief dipped in witch hazel across my forehead.
"I will tell you right out, Mrs. Newton, that Mr. Graves told me a bit of your story, because he felt he could confide in me, though he did not tell the captain a word. Captain Smith is a very partisan man, I am sorry to say, and we all know the sort of things he’s done in what I call the goose cause. It’s a shame!" She clucked disapprovingly. "But I’m sure we will get down to Saint Louis with no problem. The lovely thing about the Missouri Rose is that it’s a safe and well-run boat, perfect for the Missouri River, just a first-rate craft. And Captain Smith has enough backing, my dear, so that he doesn’t run in an unsafe way—you know, trying always to get up more steam, or risking the sandbars. Oh! My land o’ mercy! You may not know it, but the Missouri River was not designed by the Lord for steamboat travel, but men will defy Him! The key thing is always to find a boat with more than enough boiler capacity, so that going along does not in any way test the boiler, because a boiler is just the sort of thing to fail the test!" She laughed, then felt my cheeks. "There we go, dear. You’re much cooler now, and your cheeks aren’t nearly so red." She removed the handkerchief. "Well, I am sorry to laugh, because the tragedy when a boiler fails is beyond thinking about! But my own brother is an engineer, and he said to me, ’Emily, dear, I have gone over the Missouri Rose from stem to stern, and looked over the boiler, too, and I declare she’s as safe as a boat can be, which isn’t all that safe, but the alternative is Missouri roads!’ "
I sat up and declared that I felt better. Then I said, "Do we stay all night on the boat, then? I’m new at these things."
"Well, I do, Mrs. Newton. I didn’t use to, when I was teaching in Lexington, because Lexington is a fine old town, as civilized as Lexington, Kentucky, where I was brought up. But these western towns, especially since those abolitionists got in here! In these circumstances, staying on the boat is a lady’s best course of action. The captain has agreed to give us our supper—he really is a good man underneath, you know—and I think we can make ourselves quite comfortable here! The saloon is lovely, and our cabin is very roomy for a steamboat cabin."
I forced myself to cool my impatience by making up alternative plans in my head: I could sneak off the boat at Westport or Lexington and make my way back if I had to. Wasn’t revenge a dish best eaten cold, even in K.T, where most tempers were hot? But I couldn’t raise much of an interest in Miss Carter, and so I didn’t respond in a very lively fashion to her conversation, and after a bit she fell silent and took out her work, which was some tatting. I watched her out of the corner of my eye—her thread was impossibly fine, and the lace she made was intricate and filmy. Watching her put me into a sort of dream, which passed the time until supper.
We went on in this fashion for the rest of the day and into the evening. Our supper of steak and pickles and cherries and corn bread was brought to us in the ladies’ saloon by a Negro boy, and it was accompanied by the usual glass of river water—cloudy on top, thick at the bottom. Miss Carter drank hers right up, saying, "I’m told that in the baths of Europe, only the wealthiest can afford such a glass. We in America are more democratic!" I couldn’t be so enthusiastic—I sipped the top inch or so and then set mine aside.
It would have been the end of July, and so dusk was late and prolonged, but finally I saw that Miss