Hoggee (10 page)

Just then old Cyrus came into the room. “Aye, our company be here. We should gather round while the food is hot.”

While they ate, Jack talked. He told about life in their little village and about how he and Howard had left school to help support their mother. “It was no great shakes to me, school I mean, but I wish Howard could have stayed. Howard's a bit of a scholar, he is.”

Cyrus shook his head. “Book learning isn't what gets a man on, not around the canal, anyway. It's being a hard worker and having good common sense.” He reached for more bread. “That's what I always say.”

Howard looked down at his plate. Jack and Cyrus made being interested in education sound foolish. He glanced up and across the table at Laura. She smiled at him. “Well,” she said, “I'm special pleased that Howard
took well to school, him teaching me my letters and lots of words the way he's done.”

Old Cyrus grunted. “I've come to consider learning will do you no harm. Mayhap you can write letters and such for your husband once you're wed. You're getting close to fifteen and comely. Won't be long till suitors come knocking at the door. Your grandmother was sixteen when we married up.”

Howard saw Laura blush, and before he looked down he saw from the corner of his eye that Jack was smiling. He put down his fork, leaving part of a biscuit and a potato on his plate.

Jack began then to tell about his new sling, how he had worked for it, and how he had now taught his brother to use it also. “The sling is no easy thing to master,” he said, “but Howard is good.” He grinned widely. “Might be he's as good as me. We're going to find out this evening. Some of the hoggees down to the barn are fair excited about the competition.” He turned to look at Cyrus. “The notion comes to me, sir, that you might want to come and watch, or maybe the young ladies.”

“Oh, yes, Grandpa,” said Gracie. “Can we?”

Howard swallowed hard, hoping Cyrus would be his old, cranky self, but the prospect of catching Jack for a grandson-in-law seemed to have cheered him considerably. “Always make it my practice to go to bed soon as supper's done, but it's no matter to me if the girls want to watch you sling the thing.” He nodded toward Sarah. “I'd not want Sarie put in harm's way. She's to be kept away from them other boys, you hear me, Laura? You stay right beside her.”

“There's your lesson to consider, Laura,” Howard said.

“Well,” she said, smiling, “you can't very well teach
me and compete with Jack at the same time. Guess I've had my last lesson. I'm on my own now.”

All five of the other hoggees waited just over the hill that separated Cyrus's house from the barn. “Here they come now,” one of the boys yelled when the group appeared at the top of the hill, “and I'll be hanged if they ain't got girls with them!”

Gracie giggled, and Laura, who already held Sarah's hand, also took Gracie's. “We'll watch from here,” she said.

“I'll tell them to leave you be,” said Jack, and he went off to speak to the other boys.

Howard stood quietly, leaning his weight first on one foot and then the other until Jack looked back at him and called, “Come on down here.”

Howard turned to the girls. “Well, then, I suspect you'll be going back to the house as soon as the competition is over. Tomorrow it's the canal for us bright and early.” He shifted his weight again. “Work hard at the lessons, Laura.”

“Oh, I will, Howard. I will.” She stepped toward him, and Howard thought she was about to say something more.

Suddenly though, Jack was back, and the girls turned toward him. “I wanted to tell you good-bye,” he said, and he bowed to the girls. “I'm so glad I got the chance to meet you.”

“Good-bye, Jack,” Laura said.

Howard spun around to run down the hill. “Good luck to you, Howard,” Laura called. “Good luck in the contest and on the canal.”

Howard glanced over his shoulder at her, but she was talking now to Jack. There was, he decided, no use to
call back to her, not while she talked to Jack. There was no use to think about Laura at all, not if Jack took a fancy to her. At the bottom of the hill, he waited for his brother with eyes down.

Jack had a big bucket for a target turned over the fence post in front of the barn. “You want to go first or me?” he asked when he joined Howard.

Howard bit at his lip, thinking. He might as well get it over with. “I'll go first,” he said.

Jack turned to the audience and held up his arms to make an announcement. “We'll shoot three rounds,” he called, making his voice loud enough for the girls to hear him. “May the best man win.” He handed the sling and three rocks to Howard.

Howard put two of the rocks in his pocket, loaded the strap, and began to whirl it above his head, keeping his eye on the target. Let her fly, he told himself, and the rock hit the bucket sending a big thump into the air.

Howard heard Laura yell, “Good shot!”

Jack called, “That a boy! Now go at it again.”

Howard took the strap and whirled it again. This time he missed, and he heard Laura's “Oh!”

“Give it another go,” said Jack. “You've still got a chance to win.”

Howard loaded his last rock. Good old Jack. He always wanted there to be a possibility that Howard might actually beat him. What fun would it be to beat someone who had no chance? He began to twirl the sling. Take your time, he told himself. When he was certain his aim was good, he let go.

It seemed to Howard that the rock was in the air a very long time. He could watch no longer and had just dropped his gaze when he heard the wonderful thump.

“Two out of three,” one of the boys shouted, and Howard heard Laura clap.

Howard handed the sling off to Bert, who took it to Jack. For an instant, Howard thought of going to stand beside the girls, but he decided not to. He had already said his good-bye. He walked toward the group of boys but stopped a bit away from them.

Bert came to stand beside him while Jack loaded his first rock. “The fellows are mostly pulling for you,” he said. “They don't like to say it right out on account of Jack being everybody's mate, but they're pulling for you, them all having been beat by him in some kind of game.”

“Everyone feels for the underdog, I suppose,” said Howard, and he pushed his hands into his trouser pockets. He wondered if Laura liked the underdog, and he wondered if Laura knew her grandfather had hopes of marrying her off to Jack. He thought the idea should not seem so revolting to him. Howard certainly had no desire to marry anyone, not even a remote desire. So why should he care if Cyrus happened to be successful in his plan?

Jack, of course, never missed a shot. Howard knew he wouldn't. He even found himself half hoping Jack wouldn't miss. He was not used to winning. When his opponent was his brother, it felt more comfortable to lose. He heard Laura cheering for Jack, just as she had cheered for him, and the sound made him angry.

That night in the barn, Howard waited until he was certain the others boys were asleep. Taking his board, he slipped through the small opening he had deliberately
left in the barn door. Pushing the heavy door open would have caused too much noise. Howard did not want company.

The moon was full and bright. He climbed the slight hill to the spot where the girls had stood watching the contest. Settling himself on the grass, he took his knife from his pocket, then sat soaking in the scene. Tomorrow he would leave the spot where he had survived the winter. Before him was the barn that now seemed like home. He turned his head and shoulders to look at Cyrus's house, where the family slept, the others as silent now as Sarah.

He wanted to write about it all on his board, but he knew he had neither time nor space to carve the full story of his winter.

He sat for a long time on the hill remembering his friendship with the girls, the supper with Jack at Cyrus's house, and the sling competition. When the dampness of the early spring night began to chill his bones, he took his knife and carved the familiar words about Jack winning.

It did not take Howard long on the canal to make the magnificent discovery, and he carved the words with excitement. That next morning after the contest all seven boys had been up before dawn. “It's back to work for us,” Howard told Molly, and he brushed her before he put the bright, new blue harness on her. Bert took care of Molly's working partner, Lillie. Just before daylight the boys fastened the two mules together. “Gee up!” Howard called when they were out of the barn, even though he knew the mules would turn right without his direction.

Howard's team was first to leave the barn, but the other boys and mules were right behind them. Jack, as befitting his new position, had gone down to the dock early. Just as the sun became visible, Howard saw the boats.

Captain Travis was there to board
The Red Bird
and to see his other two boats off for the first trip of the season. Captain Wall, a man for whom Howard had never worked, would be in charge of
The Blue Bird
this season. The boats were lined up along the dock. Their blue, red, and yellow colors had been repainted. “They're pretty
ain't they?” said Bert, and Howard agreed. “I hope I can work up, same as Jack done,” said Bert. “It would be a grand thing to be a captain under Captain Travis.”

Howard grunted. He knew that they were lucky to work for Captain Travis, who, unlike some of the captains, made sure his mules and his boys were well fed and not pushed too far. Mules were changed at stations every ten miles. Boys worked six hours on and six hours off. It was hard work, but some boys and mules were pushed harder, worked until they grew lame or fell on the path. Still, Howard didn't want to work forever on the canal.

“Hoisting the tow! Look sharp!” Jack called from the boat. Howard and Bert hurried to get the rope and fasten it securely to the doubletree, the bar to which the mules' harnesses had been connected.

Jack was a crew member now, and he wore a blue jacket and a blue cap with a bill. As bowman, his job was to keep the towrope clear of debris on the canal, check it always for strain, and to fasten it when the boat docked or went into a lock.

Howard looked at his brother in uniform. He would not be sleeping in the back hall now, where the hoggees' bunks folded down from the wall outside the crew's small room. The bowman, helmsman, and cook slept in a tiny room unless the cook happened to be a woman, who would then sleep in her kitchen.

“All right if I take the first call?” asked Bert.

Howard nodded. “Guess I'll say good-bye to Molly.” He went to the mule and patted her shoulder. “You'll be in Albany resting up before I'm on the towpath.” It was the same with each first day. Captain Travis's boats wintered in Birchport, as did all his mules. Some mules went ahead on flatboats. All three of the packet boats
went first to Albany, ten miles away, where they got fresh mules and headed back up the canal toward Buffalo.

Howard would encounter Molly again on the trip, but he did not know where or when. “Bye, old girl,” he whispered to the mule. “Thanks for sharing your stall with me all winter.” Suddenly he was desperately afraid tears might come to his eyes. He was to be separated from Molly, and in a way from Jack. He shook his head and called out the canal boy's friendly insult. “Hey, Bert, don't drown in the canal.” He turned and boarded the boat. He supposed he should warn himself. If anyone could drown in the four feet of canal water, he could.

The new cook was indeed a woman. Howard saw her at the stove as he passed the kitchen door. Maybe I should go in and welcome her to
The Blue Bird,
he thought, and he stepped back to stand in the door.

“Hello,” he said. “My name's Howard.”

The tall, dark woman looked up from the potato she had been slicing into a bowl. “Don't care what your name is,” she said flatly. “Captain says you eat all you want, but I don't talk to you. Delia no like boys.”

Howard moved on down the hall. He wondered if the cook talked so rudely to everyone. Maybe she was a marvelous cook, and Captain Travis did not care about her manners. Maybe Howard had found his future. Maybe he would become a top-notch cook and talk to people as he pleased. He smiled at the far-fetched idea. He knew he should spend his six hours off resting, but he was not tired. He'd go up to the deck on top of the cabin. There were no interesting passengers to watch here at Birchport, but there would be at Albany.

He had just settled himself on the deck when Captain Wall blew the whistle, and
The Blue Bird
pulled away
from the dock. Howard turned from where he was looking off to one side and looked back at the dock. What he saw there really surprised him. Three girls stood on the dock. It took a minute for him to realize that Sarah, Laura, and Gracie were really there. He leaned over the deck and was about to yell good-bye when he realized they were waving toward the bow, where Jack was.

Howard moved to the other end of the deck and looked down at the bow of the boat, where Jack stood waving his cap at the girls. “Where's Howard?” he heard Laura call, but by then the boat was pulling away. Howard did not wave or call. He doubted Laura would really want to see him, not with Jack in his handsome uniform to look at. He turned and walked slowly back to the other end of the deck.

Howard knew the packet boats moved at about four miles an hour. It would take two and a half hours to get to Albany, where the mules would be changed and passengers would board before the boat turned back to go up the canal to Buffalo. He started to sit back down on the deck bench, but suddenly he did feel tired. It would be best, he decided, if he went to his bunk to rest while the boat was quiet.

He moved down the back stairs. He was glad he did not have to go through the kitchen to get to the back hall and his fold-down bunk. He took his pillow from a small footlocker where he had stored his haversack, let down the lower board bed, and climbed onto it. The boat moved smoothly down the calm canal. Howard listened to the sound of the lapping water. When he dreamed, he dreamed of the fire.