He turned around as he ended so that he looked into the young man's face, and in the moments of silence that followed, the mass of wrinkles about his eyes moved into an expression of half mirth, half sadness. He had liked the youngster, as he called him, since the moment he had come aboard at St. Louis and taken passage for the South. Something in Sargent Everett's peculiarly winning manner, in his fresh good humour and manliness, or perhaps a sympathy for his deformity, had awakened an interest in the old boatman. What it was he did not stop to consider, but he liked the boy, and now that his long journey was nearing its end, he felt a pang of regret that was new to him. Looking into the bright, hopeful face before him, he thought that, after all, youth was the only period of life worth living.
"An' so you're another one of them fellers who're comin' down here to make their fortunes," he finally said, as if more in comment than in question.
The young fellow's face brightened responsively.
"I hope it will be my fortune—but at present it is more a living I am seeking."
The Captain put out both hands, taking firm hold of the young fellow's arms and looking squarely into his face.
"Then why in the devil did you come down here?" he said sharply. "It's no place for the likes of you! You're not the sort of youngster for this kind of rough life. Why didn't you go to a big town, son? This country's for pioneers."
The young fellow drew himself away, a look of pain flashing across his face.
"I'm not delicate," he said quickly. "I'm very strong. I was the best swimmer at college. You think because my leg is bad that I can't do what other men have done! Give me time and I'll show you!"
"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, lad," the old fellow answered slowly, relighting the pipe which he held always in his mouth. "I know darned well you've got grit enough to pull you through, but why, of all places in this country, you should have chosen Natchez—kinder puzzles me. Haven't you ever heerd about what they call 'Natchez-under-the-Hill?' Why, sir, it's the toughest hole on the river!"
"It was the offer I had that brought me, Captain. New England is crowded with school-teachers; there was nothing for me to do, and I had to work. My father was a sea captain, as I told you, and in the year 1812 he lost everything. Since then we have been very poor. I had to do something—and I had this offer down here."