George at the Wheel; Or, Life in the Pilot-House

by Harry Castlemon

Bad news flies like wild-fire, and it was not long before it was known all over the boat that George Ackerman had broken into the office and robbed the safe of three thousand dollars, and that the captain had virtually placed him under arrest The chief clerk, who was obliged to explain how he got that black eye, industriously circulated this story. He saw the necessity of creating a popular opinion in his favor, for he was literally alone. All the officers who heard his version of the affair looked incredulous, and even Walker acted as though he had his suspicions. Murray, of course, had known all along that when the denouement came a rigid investigation would be held, but he relied upon the overwhelming evidence he could produce to crush George and turn all his friends against him. But the young pilot positively refused to be crushed. Feeling strong in his innocence he was determined to make a fight of it, while his friends—and it looked now as though every man on board the boat was his friend—rallied to his support.

"There's something about this business that doesn't look just right to me," said Walker, as he and Murray went back to the office and began to put things in order there; "but I can't for the life of me tell what it is. I can tell you this much, however, if there had been a stranger with us when we went up to Ackerman's room, he would have declared that you looked and acted more like a guilty man than George did."

"Walker," exclaimed the chief clerk, sharply. "Do you mean to insult me?"

"No; I don't. I mean to tell you that I didn't believe Ackerman knows any more about this robbery than—than I do." He was about to say "than you do."

"Who did it, then. Why, man alive, just look at the evidence."

"I know. But when that evidence comes to be sifted by some sharp lawyer"—Walker stopped there, and left his companion to finish the sentence for himself. "Mark my words," he added, a moment later. "We're going to see lively times before this thing is settled."

"I begin to think so, too," thought Murray. "I am afraid I have jumped out of the frying-pan into the fire. I wonder if I hadn't better take what is left of that three thousand, and step off the boat when we reach Memphis without saying a word to anybody? That's an idea worth thinking about."

While this storm was raging about the young pilot's devoted head, another was brewing which proved to be as dangerous to human life as this one was to George's reputation. A thick, black cloud, which had been hanging in the horizon all the forenoon, now began rising rapidly, and in ten minutes more it had covered the whole heavens. The rain fell in torrents and the wind blew a gale. The Telegraph was within whistling distance of Helena when the storm struck her. For a while it seemed as if the wind would sweep her decks clear of everything; or, failing that, drive her back down the river; but she struggled successfully against it, and finally came abreast of the town. It was a matter of no little difficulty to come alongside the wharf-boat without smashing something, but under the skilful management of Mr. Black and his partner, the landing was made, and after the engineers had been instructed to "keep her working ahead pretty strong," so that the wind would not blow both steamer and wharf-boat away from the bank, the occupants of the pilot-house sat down on the bench to talk over the events of the day.

While they were thus engaged, the watchman suddenly made his appearance, bringing with him a pale, scared face, and said something to the captain, who stood in his usual place near the bell. The latter at once hurried below, while the watchman came into the pilot-house to report that one of the cabin boys had been "pinched" between a fender and a stanchion and very severely injured. The way it happened was this: When the Telegraph came abreast of the wharf-boat, the wind caught her and swung her toward it with great violence. One of the mates, seeing the danger, called out, "Stand by, everybody, to fend off! Drop those fenders overboard! Everybody, I said," he added, shaking his fist at a negro, who was passing along the deck from the engine-room with a pail of hot water in his hand.

Now, although the negro knew all about the duties of a boy who was employed in the cabin, he knew nothing about a deck hand's business. Setting down his pail, he rushed to the side in readiness to assist in pushing the Telegraph away from the wharf-boat; but it so happened that he placed himself close to a stanchion, at the top of which was fastened a fender—a heavy piece of timber long enough to reach from the boiler-deck to the water. No sooner had he taken up his position, than two of the deck-hands seized the fender attached to that stanchion and dropped it overboard. It swung down to its place, and striking the darkey with fearful force, pinned him fast. He was released as soon as the Telegraph swung away from the wharf-boat, carried off in a fainting condition, and laid upon one of the bunks in the deck hands' room, while the watchman was dispatched to acquaint the captain with the accident, and to inquire if there was a surgeon among the passengers. This was the substance of the story to which George and his companions listened. None of them had much to say about it, for accidents of all kinds were of too frequent occurrence to attract any especial notice from men of their calling. They could not foresee the results that were to grow out of this one.