CHAPTER V.
The Bad Boy Leaves St. Louis in a Balloon—The Boy Makes a Trip to San Francisco and Joins Evans’ Fleet—The Police Arrest Boy and Tie Up Balloon.
When our balloon left St. Louis, and got up in the air so far that the earth looked like a piece of rag carpet, with pop corn scattered over it, which were villages, and I realized that if anything busted, we would be dropping for hours before we struck a church steeple, and would be so dead when we hit the ground, and stiff and cold that we would be driven down in the mud so far no one would ever find us, and I looked at the two fool men in the basket with me, who didn’t seem to care what became of them, as though they were unhappily married or had money in a shaky bank, I began to choke up, and the tears came to my eyes, and I took a long breath of thin air, and fainted dead away.
When I fainted we were being driven south, and when I came to, with a smell of ammonia on my hair, we were going east, and the balloon had gone down within a mile of the earth, and the men gave me some hot tea out of a patent bottle, and pretty soon I began to enjoy myself and wonder if I could hit a mess of negroes picking cotton in a field, with a sand bag.
When you are up in the air so far that a policeman cannot reach you, you feel loose enough to insult men that would knock your block off if you should give them any lip when you were on the ground.
We came down a half a mile more, and I asked the boss man if I might throw a sand bag at the negroes, and he said I might throw a bundle of advertisements for liver pills at them, so I yelled, “Hello, you black rabbits,” and when the negroes looked up and saw the balloon, they turned pale, and dropped on their knees, and I guess they began to pray, and I didn’t mean to interfere with their devotions, so I threw a bottle of ginger ale at a mule hitched to a wagon near them, and when the bottle struck the mule on the head and exploded and the ginger ale began to squirt all over the colored population, the mule run one way with the wagon, and the negroes ran for the cane brakes. The boss man in the balloon complimented me on being a good shot, and said I had many characteristics of a true balloonist, and probably before we got to the end of the trip I would get so I could hit a church steeple with a bag of ballast, and break up a Sunday School in the basement. He said that being up in the rarefied air made a man feel as though he would like to commit murder, and I found out that was so, for the next town we passed over, when all the people were out in the main street, and the balloon man told me to throw over a bag of sand, so we could go up higher, instead of trying to throw the bag into a field, where there was nobody to be hurt or frightened, do you know, I shied that bag at a fountain in the public square and laughed like a crazy person when the water splashed all over the crowd, and the fountain was smashed to pieces, and the pirates in the balloon complimented me, and yet, when those men are at home, on the ground, they are christian gentlemen, they told me, so I made up my mind that if ballooning became a fashionable pastime, those who participated in it would become murderers, and the people on the ground would shoot at a balloonist on sight.
We went up so high that we were out of range of people on the ground, so you couldn’t pick out any particular person to hit with a bundle of pickle advertisements, so you had to shoot into a flock, and run chances of winging somebody, so I did not enjoy it, but along towards evening we passed over a town in Tennessee or Kentucky, where there was a race track, and races going on, and just as we got over it I said to the boss balloon man, “Just watch me break up that show,” and I pitched overboard a whole mass of advertisements of different things we carried, and two bundles hit the grand stand, and exploded, and about a million circulars advertising pills and breakfast food struck the track, just as the horses were in the home stretch, and of all the stampedes you ever saw that was the worst, horses running away, riders fell off, carriages tipped over, and the people in the grand stand falling over themselves, and as we sailed along none of us seemed to care two whoops whether anybody was killed or not. It was the craziness of being up in the air, and not caring for responsibility, like a drunken chauffeur running a crazy automobile through a crowd of children, and acting mad because they were in the way of progress.
We laughed and chuckled at the sensation we had caused, but cared no more for the results than a hired girl who starts a fire with kerosene.
It came on dark after a while, and all we had to do was to look at the stars and the moon, and it seemed to me that the stars were as big as locomotive headlights, and that you could see into them, and on several of the largest stars I was sure I could see people moving, and the moon seemed so near that you could catch the smile of the man in the moon, and see him wink at you.
The two men had to remain awake all night, but after awhile I said I guessed I would have my berth made up, and the boss man handed me a shredded wheat biscuit for a pillow, and laid me down by the sand bags and the canned food, and threw a blanket over me, and I slept all night, sailing over states, the balloon moving so still there was no sound at all.
I woke up once or twice and listened for a street car, or some noise to put me to sleep again, and found myself wishing there was a fire, so a fire department would go clanging by, making a noise that would be welcome in the terrible stillness.
I dreamed the awfulest dreams, and thought I saw Pa, in another balloon, with a rawhide in his hand, chasing me, and the great bear in the heavens seemed to be getting up on his hind legs, with his mouth open, ready to hug me to his hairy chest.
It was a terrible night, and at daylight the boss man woke me up and I looked over the side of the basket and we were going across a piece of water where there were battle ships lined up like they were at San Diego, when Cevera’s fleet was smashed, and the men said now was the time to demonstrate whether balloons would be serviceable in case of war, and told me to take a bundle of malted milk advertisements, and imagine it was a dynamite bomb, and see if I could land it on the deck of a big white battleship. I took a good aim and let the bundle go and it struck on deck just in front of a cross looking man in a white uniform, and scattered all over the deck and the sailors and marines came up on deck in a wild stampede, and threw the malted milk advertisements overboard, and as we sailed on there was an explosion of red hot language from the cross looking man in the white uniform, and the boss balloon man said, “That is a good shot, Bub, for you landed that bundle of alleged dynamite square on the deck of Admiral Bob Evans’ flagship. Didn’t you hear him swear?” and then we went on, and the man in the white uniform was shaking his fists and his mouth was working overtime, but we couldn’t hear the brand of profanity he was emitting, but we knew he was going some, for before we got out of hearing the bugles were sounding on more than a dozen battleships, the men came up from below and took positions in the rigging and everywhere, and all was live with action, and the boss balloon man said the fleet was preparing for its trip around the horn, to San Francisco, and then I told the balloon man that he couldn’t land me a minute too quick, because I was going to join that fleet and go with Bob Evans, if I never did another thing in my life.
Hit the Chief of Police with a Bottle.
The inspiration came to me up there in the rarefied air, and I was as sure I was going around the Horn as though I was already on one of the ships.
We sailed along part of the day and the gas began to give out, and I had to throw over ballast, and open cans of food, and bottles of stuff to drink, and I made some good shots with the sand bags and the bottles. Once I hit right in front of a brakeman on a freight train with a bottle of soda water, and again I hit an oyster schooner with a sand bag and must have chuckled at least a barrel of oysters. The gas kept escaping, and presently we came down in a field in Delaware, after I had hit a chief of police in Wilmington with a bottle of beer, which is a crime in a prohibition country, and after we landed the police arrested the two balloon men, and tied up the balloon. They paid me thirty dollars for my services, and I took a train for Fortress Monroe to join the fleet, and left the two balloon men on the way to a whipping post.
CHAPTER VI.
The Balloon Lands in Delaware—The Boy Visits the Battleships—They Scour the Boy With a Piece of Brick and Some Laundry Soap—The Boy Investigates the Mechanism of the Battleships—The Boy Goes With the Ships as a Mascot.
When our balloon that sailed from St. Louis came down in Delaware, and I had bid good bye to the two men whom I sailed with, and they had paid me good money for my services and keeping them awake, I thought of that fleet we had passed over at Fortress Monroe, the beautiful white battle ships, and I was afraid I could not get there before it sailed, and secure my berth, as I had made up my mind to go with it around the horn, and help fight Japan or mosquitoes, or any old thing that came in the way, so I took the first train to Fortress Monroe, and found that the whole population of several near by states were going too, as the President was going to review the fleet before it sailed.
The next day I was at the hotel at Old Point and with hundreds of other people took a launch and went out among the battle ships. Everybody was welcome to go aboard the ships, and we visited several of them and were shown all over the vessels by the uniformed jacks.
Gee, but a battleship is like a sky scraper on land, and you can go from the roof clear down half a mile below the water line, and it is like a combination of an engine manufactory, a boiler plant, a coal yard, a wholesale grocery, a packing house, a blacksmith shop, a department store, a hotel, a powder mill, a suburban trolley line, and a bargain sale of blankets, a state fair and a military encampment, and a parade ground, a county jail and an apartment house, with rooms to let on the European plan and all of it in an iron coffin, liable to go to the bottom any minute, if the air tanks are punctured.
Gee, but I was almost afraid to be down cellar in a battleship without any life preserver, and when I went up on deck, where I could jump overboard if she began to sink, there, away on top of the whole old cook stove, were guns so big that it seemed if one got to moving around on deck it would tip the ship over. It seemed to me like boring a hole in a flat iron and crawling in, and being put in a bath tub, or like rigging up a coal stove with paddles and outriggers, and paddling out in a marsh duck shooting.
The first hour I was investigating the mechanism of a battleship and was scared silly for fear she would get ready to sink, and as I looked at the iron everywhere, which I had been taught in school would sink so quick it would make your head swim, I wondered what my nation could be thinking of to build ships of iron and depend on wind to keep them on top of the water, and I thought it would be just as safe to cover an iron railroad bridge with building paper, and launch it for a trip across the ocean; and yet all the officers and men seemed to enjoy it, and forget about the danger, for they laughed and played jokes, and put on airs, and mashed the girls who came on board as though they had made up their minds that it was only a matter of time when the ships would sink, and they seemed to congratulate themselves that when they went down with the ships a time lock would close them up hermetically so sharks and devil fish couldn’t eat the crew, and they could float around for all time and eternity safe from the resurrection as they would be buried in a safety deposit box in the vault of a trust company.
Some of the jacks played it on me. They took me and wrapped an angora goat skin around me, with the hair outside, and tied a string to my feet, and run it out of the breach of the big sixteen inch gun, and another string on my legs, and they pulled me back and forth through that forty foot gun to swab it out, and when I came out alive they laughed and were going to tie a bag of shot to my feet and let me off a plank over the side to practice on a burial at sea, but I yelled for help and a cross looking man came along and pardoned me, and told the fellows to take me to his cabin and wash the powder off my face, and hold me until he could have a talk with me. When they had scoured me with a piece of brick and some yellow laundry soap, the man came into the cabin, and the boys who had hazed me said he was Admiral Evans, and I remembered him cause once when he was in the light house service he entertained Pa and me on his light house tender, and held me on his lap at the New Orleans Mardi Gras, and I said, “Hello, Mr. Evans, don’t you remember little Hennery? I am Peck’s Bad Boy,” and he remembered me, and said, “What n’ell you doing here?” and I told him I knew what he was up against, going around the horn, and to San Francisco and Japan and the Philippines, and that I wanted to go along on his ship as a mascot, or a waiter or anything, and he said he didn’t know, but I would be a good mascot, as last trip they had a goat and a monkey for mascots, and I had a combination of both, and if he was going to make a trip to hades, or any climate hotter than the straits of Magellan, he thought I would be all right.
They Pulled Me Through That Forty-Foot Gun to Swab It Out.
He asked me what I could do and I told him there was nothing that I couldn’t do if properly encouraged, anything, from flying a flag of truce from the fighting top, to riding up in the ammunition elevator with five hundred pounds of dynamite, to acting as the propeller to a Whitehead torpedo.
We talked it over for an hour and he asked about Pa, and then he said he would think it over, and he gave me a ticket with a number on, and told me to be on the front porch of the Hotel Chamberlaine at nine o’clock the second morning after, and if a steam launch from the Connecticut landed there and gave two whistles, for me to get on board with my baggage, and report to him before the fleet sailed.
Well, say, this was quick work, and I called a launch and visited the other vessels, promising to be Johnny on the spot at the appointed hour.
It was a great sight to see the review, when the President came along on the yacht Mayflower and I forgot all about the battleships being of iron liable to sink if the wind got out of the tanks, and was never so proud in my life as I was when I saw the jacks climb up on the rigging and hang on like monkeys, lined up like they were drilling on deck, and when the Connecticut began to fire a salute to the President, out of those great iron sewer pipes, and all the rest of the fleet began to shoot at the air, the noise was so loud that it made your head feel like you do when you take seidletz powders, and it gullups up your nose, and the smokeless powder made the smoke so thick you couldn’t see anything but the President’s teeth, as he sailed along on his yacht, and I got so patriotic that the chills went up my back like when you have the grip coming on, and then the smoke cleared away and when a million American flags were flung to the breeze, I began to choke up like you do when you are sick and the callers say, “Well, brace up boy, you may pull through, but there are a hundred chances against your living till morning,” and the tears rolled down my cheeks, and my throat got full like I had the tonsilitis, and everybody else on our launch except two Japanese were crying, and then the President’s yacht took a position, and all the battleships swinging into line and marched past, and the bands played, and we all just bellered for patriotic joy, and I was so mad to see those Japanese standing there like bottles of castor oil, not even smiling, that I blew up a toy balloon which I have been playing air ship with, and I whacked it on the head of the meanest looking Jap, and when it exploded he was the scardest-looking person I ever saw, because he thought one of those sixteen-inch shells had gone off in his hat, and everybody said, “served him right,” and then he laughed, the first time since the review started, and he wanted the skim of my toy balloon as a souvenir of the first gun fired in the war with Japan.
When it Exploded the Jap Was the Scaredest Person I Ever Saw.
From that day, when I had examined critically our fleet and seen it salute, and monkey around the President, I felt so patriotic that I wanted to fight for my country, and I could hardly wait two days for Mr. Evans to send his launch ashore after me, and I didn’t care if the whole thing was iron, that couldn’t float under natural conditions and if Bob Evans should put oarlocks on a bar of railroad iron, and put me on it, with orders to go sink a Japanese sampon, or whatever they call their war ships, I would step aboard that bar of railroad iron with a light heart, wave my hat and tell them all to go plumb.
So we went ashore, and that evening there was a ball at the hotel, and all the officers of the navy were there, and the army, and millions of ladies with clothes on the lower half of them, and talcum powder and black court plaster on the upper half, and the way they danced and waltzed and flirted and et lobsters would make you dizzy, and when Bob Evans walked limping by me, with a two-hundred-pound lady on one arm, and a ninety-pound girl on the rheumatiz side of him, I was so full of patriotic fire I couldn’t help saying, “Hello, Bob, I will be on deck all right,” and he looked at me with an expression on his face that looked as though he had drawn a lobster that had been dead too long, and he marched along with his female procession, and the orchestra struck up a good-night waltz, and everybody waltzed, and took some drinks, and went home to wait the sailing of the fleet the next day, and I went to bed with an order to be called at sunrise, so I could be on the porch with my ticket in my hand, ready to jump into the launch when she whistled and sail away “for a frolic or a fight,” and I didn’t care which.