Mr. R. Well, she might have married and had some one to be her captain. The merchants sent one of their best river-men to marry her, but she ordered him off the boat.
Mary. I don’t blame her!
Mr. R. There ain’t much a woman can do round here but get married. There’s many a likely man that is not a river-man who would like to get a good smart Yankee woman like you.
Mary (sharply). Mr. Romberg! what do you mean?
Mr. R. I mean, of course, if your husband does not come back, which seems most likely—
Mary (turning away). Oh! What shall I do?
Mr. R. My dear Mrs. Miller! you must be as wise as a serpent as well as harmless as a dove.
Mary. Oh, sir! how can I be wise without money, without friends, with my hands tied by a little child, and my means of earning a living taken away?
Mr. R. Well, there is a month or two yet before I shall be obliged to ask you to give up your husband’s papers. Meanwhile, you can go on to Cairo, and come back; go along the Red and Yellow, and leave your cargo. You needn’t take on any more. I’ll see you again when you come down to New Orleans; and then, if your husband has not returned, we must close up our accounts. That is what the rest of the owners say, and I agree.
Mary. Oh, Mr. Romberg! is there nothing I can do to keep the boat? Can I not get a license? Did a woman never have a captain’s license?