“Suppose,” Lydia said, choosing her words carefully now, “you had strong evidence that there is some truth to those rumors. What would you do?”
He turned in surprise. “I’d go straight to Joseph.”
“Good.”
He was searching her face. “Why do you ask that?”
She took a deep breath. “I think you’d better hear about an experience your sister had today.”
At about the same time Lydia and Nathan were talking, Joshua and Will were still about sixty miles out of St. Louis. The boat was making good time, but when darkness came it would have to slow considerably. So it would be well past sunrise tomorrow before they reached their destination. As Will walked along the outside railing, he could hear the young boy at the bow calling out the depths of the water at periodic intervals as he dropped a lead-weighted rope into the water.
Will found his father near the back of the boat, leaning on the railing, staring down into the water beneath them. Behind him, the great paddle wheels turned steadily, churning the muddy water into a long white trail behind them. Will stopped for a moment, watching the man he had been fighting with earlier in the morning. Though they had called an unspoken truce, the strain between them was still there. Now it was time to put it away.
Somehow his father heard him approaching over the roar of the engine and the loud
swish-swish
of the paddle wheel. He turned; then seeing who it was, he nodded. “Evenin’, Will.”
“Evenin’, Pa.” He joined Joshua at the rail. “We’ll be slowing down soon, won’t we?” The awkwardness was still there.
“Good thing,” Joshua grunted. “And not just because it’ll be dark. I slipped into the engine room of this old barge a while ago. It’s an older model boiler, the kind with no safety valve and no pressure gauges. And it’s pretty rusty.”
“And that’s bad?” Will’s specialty was sailing ships, not steamers.
“Only if we keep up these full-speed runs.”
Will frowned. He might not be an expert, but he had traveled the river enough to know that explosions and fires aboard the riverboats were commonplace, and often with horrendous loss of life. Feeling a little uneasy, he decided to change the subject. He glanced sideways at his father. “Sorry about this morning, Pa.”
Joshua shrugged it off. “It’s done with,” he said simply.
Will bobbed his head once, relieved to have it said. He looked down at the brown water rushing past them. He wanted to ask his father what it was about Jenny Pottsworth that he detested so much, but he knew that in that direction lay only more anger and frustration. So they both lapsed into silence, continuing to gaze at the water below them.
About five minutes later, from above them there was a shout. They both straightened and turned. One of the crew was on the top deck, pointing forward and yelling something indistinguishable over the noise of the paddles. “Uh-oh,” Joshua muttered.
“What?”
He shook his head and walked quickly around to the other side of the boat. As he reached the other side, Joshua lifted an arm to point. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
Up ahead of them, perhaps three-quarters of a mile off still, just coming into view around a bend of the river, they could see another boat, a big one, probably half again as big as theirs, with two paddle wheels on each side amidships. Now above them, several members of the crew were shouting at each other. Some of the passengers who were out on deck came around to the starboard side to see what was going on.
“What is it, Pa?”
“We are about to engage in a race,” he said grimly.
The race wasn’t much of a surprise, but the timing was. It seemed like anytime two boats got within a mile of each other going the same direction a race was on. Will had been in several going up and down this river, but never when it was nearly dark and never this late in the summer when the river was lower. This could prove to be pure insanity. But even as he thought that, the roar of the engine deepened, and the sound of the paddles quickened noticeably.
“But we can’t possibly beat him,” Will said. “He’s way bigger than us.”
“And with the double wheels, he’ll have two big boilers for sure. But since when did that ever stop a riverboat captain from trying?”
News of what was happening spread fast. People poured out from their cabins and from the big dining hall to line the rails. Above them, the smokestacks were belching a huge quantity of dark black smoke which trailed out behind them for quarter of a mile.
“The race is on!” someone shouted five minutes later. They had closed the distance to about half a mile now. There was no question about it. The other boat was streaming huge clouds of smoke and the paddle wheels were a blur now. The smaller boat had been spotted, and the captain of the larger boat wasn’t about to let this upstart little boat pass one of the great river queens.
“Ten dollars says the big boat wins!” someone shouted.
“I’ll give you fifty that ours overtakes it within the next quarter hour.”
Will turned to his father in disbelief. “They’re betting on the race? Does the captain know that?”
“Know it?” Joshua snorted. “He’ll be covering some of the bets himself. The stupid fool. Now he’s got to win.” He grabbed Will’s arm. “Will, go to our cabin. Get all my papers. Don’t worry about the rest of our stuff. I’ll meet you at the bow.”
Will just stared at him. “We’re getting off?”
“Of course not, but if this thing blows, you and I are going to be as far from that boiler as possible. I’ll go see if I can find something we can use to float ashore if we need to.”
“Pa!” Will cried, truly alarmed now, but Joshua was already gone.
Two minutes later, Will pushed his way through the mob at the front of the boat, holding his father’s small case in front of him as a wedge, winning himself several angry looks. He looked around but could not see his father anywhere. Two more minutes and Joshua was suddenly standing beside him.
“It’s all right. I’ve got a couple of small casks put aside. We can get to them if we need to.”
“So what now?”
His father grinned. “Now we see who wins.” Will’s gaping mouth made his father laugh. “Look, we’ve prepared for the worst, which probably won’t happen. There’s nothing more we can do.”
Will turned and was surprised to see that they had cut the distance between the two boats by almost half again. “Look, Pa, we’re closing on him.”
“Yep,” Joshua said lazily. “I put a word in with the captain.”
“You did?” Will exclaimed. “What did you say?”
“I told him that if his boiler blows up, I will personally drag him out of the water and beat him to a pulp.” There was an ironic grin. “In the meantime, I told him he darn well better win, because I put a hundred dollars down for us with a man from Natchez.”
“You what?”
But Joshua just laughed.
Another ten minutes and a roar went up from the crowd. The big boat was up to full steam now and making almost twice the speed it had when they first saw it, but the distance was now down to a few hundred yards. The larger boat had started to turn, moving toward the faster current, directly where their boat was traveling. With the smaller boat making better speed, they were on a possible collision course now, depending on who got there first. That had brought the shout. Will saw that whoever got there first would be the winner, for the other boat would have to go out and around him, into the slower current.
“He’s going for the current!” someone yelled.
“We’ll crash!” another man cried.
Will, still dumbfounded, looked at his father, but Joshua seemed undaunted. “Our captain’s already in the swiftest current. We may not have the boiler power of that one, but we’re smaller and lighter and more maneuverable. You want to put some money down on this, Will?”
Will just shook his head. And then, seeing the look in his father’s eyes, he realized what Joshua was doing. He was trying to keep Will’s mind off the possibility of an explosion. And then Will smiled. They had done all they could do to prepare for it. They would fare better than most. And if it didn’t happen, then all there was to worry about was the race. He laughed aloud, relieved and excited and proud of his father and cocky about their chances all in the same moment. He turned forward again and began to shout, urging their boat on faster and faster.
The crowd was going wild now. The boats were down to fifty yards apart. Even women and children were outside, screaming and shouting, cheering their captain on. This was a grand American tradition. Competition was a way of life here on the river. It was a way of life in many parts of America, especially on the frontier. And on the frontier, often you bet on that competition with your life. It was frightening and exhilarating and expanding and totally American.
Their boat was coming up hard on the other one now, and they could clearly see the people who lined its rails three and four deep also. And they too were shouting and screaming and waving their fists with wild abandon. As a seaman, Will was getting increasingly nervous. The distance between them was closing fast. You didn’t turn boats and ships the way you did a wagon or a carriage. You needed room. A lot of room. And that was fast disappearing.
To his surprise, he saw his father looking up toward the wheelhouse. “Don’t you do it,” Joshua said in a low, commanding voice. “Don’t lose your nerve. Hold steady, now.”
With a start, Will suddenly realized that if the two boats collided, the bigger boat would get the better of it by far. “We’re going to hit, Pa!” he exclaimed. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest as he eyed the two intersecting paths.
People had stopped shouting now. They were holding their breath, staring in horror as the two boats closed ominously. Now the big river queen towered over them, looking for all reality like a giant box bearing down on a bug. Will looked across the water and saw the horrified looks on the faces of the people there.
“Everybody back!” someone screamed. “We’re going to hit!”
“Turn! Turn! Turn!” someone else was shouting.
Suddenly the crowds around him bolted, running for the back of the ship. Will staggered and nearly fell, then braced himself against the mass. The din was deafening—people screaming and sobbing, the high pitched whine of the big engines, the roar of great paddle wheels propelling them forward at ramming speed. Joshua reached out and grabbed Will’s arm, holding him in place. His eyes were darting back and forth between the two riverboats, measuring the distance with a practiced eye. He shouted in Will’s ear. “If we do hit, it’s going to be at the back and not the front. Stay here and hang on.”
Will grabbed the rail, digging his fingertips in and planting his feet, staring back at the massive shape coming at them like a juggernaut. He tensed, wanting to close his eyes but not able to. And then, at what seemed like the last possible moment, the huge stubby nose of the double paddle wheeler veered away, coming not more than ten to twelve feet from the side of their boat. He was turning. Their boat rocked violently as the wake from the bigger boat shook them like a dog shaking a rag. The side paddle wheel, which stuck out a good eight to ten feet wider than the rest of the big boat, still nearly clipped them. Will tensed again, expecting to hear the ripping sound of churning paddles chewing into hardwood. But then in another moment, the paddle wheel was clear and their boat shot forward as the big one went off at an angle.
A great cheer went up all along their boat. Hats flew in the air. People fell on each other, pounding one another and laughing and pointing. On the far boat, the other passengers were silent. A few shook their fists at them, but the rest just stared in bitter disappointment. Angling off, the big boat was dropping rapidly to stern. The race was over. Will felt a great sigh of relief as the boat slowed and the sound of the engine dropped in pitch.
Will looked at his father, and finally could only shake his head.
Joshua smiled, though Will could see the relief in his eyes as well. Then he took Will by the shoulder. “Why don’t you take our stuff back to the cabin. I’ll go collect my winnings, and then I’ll buy you the biggest steak on board this old tub.”
“That’s a deal,” Will agreed.
“And Will?”
“Yes, Pa?”
“We don’t have to tell your mother about this, all right?”
He grinned. “Yes, Pa.”
As they sat lazily letting the dinner settle in their stomachs, Joshua stirred beside him. “Will?” It was said with some tentativeness.
“Yes, Pa?”
“Walter Samuelson’s a good man, Will.”
Will nodded, a little surprised at the sudden mention of his father’s St. Louis business partner.
“He’s been real good to me. Real fair. Never had one question about his integrity.”
“That’s good, Pa.” He still wasn’t sure where this was going.
“I didn’t ask him to set something up, Will.”
“Set something up?”
There was a long pause. “Yes.”
“Like what, Pa?”
“Like dinner at his home.”
Will went cold. “Oh.”
“With his daughter.”
“I figured that much out,” Will said with a sudden bite to his voice.
“I was joking with you earlier today, Will. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he has arranged something. He thinks you’re one of the finest young men he’s ever met.”
“No, Pa.”
“Will, it’s not my doing. And I’ll not have you be offending Mrs. Samuelson or their daughter. She’s a fine young woman.”
Will considered that. He believed his father when he said it wasn’t his doing. But he also knew that whatever it was Samuelson was setting up, it wouldn’t be going against Joshua Steed’s wishes either. Well, it wasn’t the girl’s fault, was it? Maybe she felt as stupid about it as he did. Finally, he nodded. “I’ll not be offending them, Pa.”
“Good.”
Will stood up. “I’m tired, Pa. I think I’ll be turning in.”
“I’ll be along shortly.”
“All right.” Will turned and headed for their cabin, already dreading their arrival on the morrow.
Chapter Notes
The details surrounding John C. Bennett’s life as given here—including his position of prominence, the anonymous letter from Ohio, the investigation by George Miller, and Hyrum Smith’s subsequent letter—are described in several sources (see, for example,
HC
5:36–37, 42–43;
Times and Seasons
3
[1 July 1842]: 839–40, 842; and Andrew F. Smith, “The Saintly Scoundrel: The Life and Times of John Cook Bennett,” [unpublished ms., Brooklyn, N.Y., 1994], pp. 117–18). Bennett was elected mayor of Nauvoo on 1 February 1841 and elected as major general in the Nauvoo Legion three days later (see
HC
4:287, 296). Sidney Rigdon continued to have serious health problems incident to his long imprisonment in Missouri, and so during the April 1841 conference, John C. Bennett was appointed Assistant President in the First Presidency while Rigdon was ill (see
HC
4:341).