If such were the case, the presence of Madame Dardonville on board of her, would indeed be a mysterious circumstance! For what purpose could she be going to Cincinatti? and, least of all, at such a crisis—when she should be expecting her friends from the south?
Had I heard aright? Or had I properly interpreted what I had heard?
Beyond doubt the pilot’s words were to the effect, that the boat was no longer to run to New Orleans, but from Saint Louis to Cincinatti, and of course vice versâ. Perhaps he might mean prospectively? Was it some new arrangement of ownership, not yet completed?
The boat might be hereafter intended for the Ohio trade, but had not yet commenced running to Cincinatti: she might be making her final trip to New Orleans? Only this hypothesis could explain the puzzle.
It occurred to me that I might arrive at a more lucid understanding by an application to the occupant of the wheel-house—at all events he could interpret what I had just heard. I addressed myself him accordingly.
I had no fear of being snubbed. These Mississippi pilots are fine fellows, sometimes a little dry with curious intruders, but never rude, never impolite to a gentleman.
“Did I understand you to say that the boat we have just met—the Missouri Belle—is in the Ohio trade?”
“Wal, stranger, that’s what I’ve heerd.”
“That means that she is to run between Saint Louis and Cincinatti.”
“Course it do.”