“Before we proceed, may I ask how you penetrated my incognito?”

“It was no great feat on my part. Weeks ago, a man was in town searching for you and Alexander. He left this bill with me,” she said, extracting a handbill from a pigeonhole on her desk. “You and Sandy fit the descriptions except for your sexes. So, I simply observed you closely, noting that your hips are a bit broad for a lad, you lack a beard, and have no Adam’s apple. I assure you, had I not received the bill, I would have accepted you as you appear. … Your companions were not mentioned in the bill.”

“May I see it?”

“Of course.”

I examined the circular. Sandy and I were described with our true names and sexes, and a reward offered for telegraphic communication leading to our apprehension. The address for correspondance was that of the van der Leyden mansion in Manhattan. After reading the Captain’s letter, I realized papers could be evidence of crime, so I asked, “I wonder if I might prevail upon you to send the bill to my employer, who is Sandy’s uncle and guardian? I will pay the post.”

“Of course, dear.”

I wrote the address. “Now, for our present business. Given our circumstances and goal, what boat shall we take?”

“There are a number of considerations. First, and chiefly, you want an honest captain with abolitionist sympathies. Many are pro-slave, while others are scrupulous about the fugitive slave act. Some tolerate cheats and thieves. Others have abandoned passengers who have gotten off to lighten a vessel stuck on a sand bar or snag. A few have even rammed other boats to revenge supposed slights. That narrows the field considerably.

“Second, is the matter of privacy. The better boats provide chamber pots for cabin passengers. The others require all to use the common privies – continuous benches with holes above the water by the side wheels –women on one side, men on the other.

“Third, is the question of deck passage (for so ‘steerage’ is known on the inland waters). The deck fare is a mere fraction of cabin passage, $3 or $4, but you ride outside with the freight and animals in whatever space you can find. Of course, you bring your own food – while cabin passengers have food and drink provided.

“The problem is deck passengers, men or women, must assist with loading fuel wood along the way as a condition of passage. In other words, deck passage requires bartering of one’s labor. Given Becky’s delicate condition, hard labor for her is out of the question. Your male companion – what is his name?”

“Hans.”

“Yes, Hans … seems rather reedy for the work as well. Fortunately, there is a third, little considered, option for passage. One may take personal servants. Some boats have staterooms with offices attached for one’s servants.”

“That sounds terribly expensive.”

“It can be, but those with servants invariably want passage on the newest and most fashionable boats. In consequence, older boats so equipped often sail with the offices unoccupied. I typically book them for cabin passengers with children. Depending on the children’s ages, two to four can be accommodated in an office.”

“And is food provided for them?”

“Yes, they may eat whatever is left by the cabin passengers. However, they are allowed to get food for their masters and bring it to their cabins, and who eats what in one’s cabin, no one knows.”

“I see.”

“There are other advangages of an older boat. Without offense, your dress would be terribly unfashionable on a newer boat, causing you to be snubbed. Also, the river is very shallow in the
Summer, and smaller, older boats draw less water – they take less water to float -- an advantage in avoiding snags and sawyers, so they tend to go faster when the river is low.”

“Snags and sawyers?”

“Oh. Yes, trees that have fallen into the river and can catch and even pierce a the hull of a boat.”

“This happens often?”

“Not too often. Maybe once or twice a year for a boat – mostly in the Summer. In the Spring a paddlewheel is more likely to be broken. Do not let it worry you. The Ohio and Mississippi are quite safe – most boats go four or five years before sinking.* The Missouri is a different matter – boats only last a couple of years on it. Anyway, most boats are lost to explosions, not snags.”

This seemed very often and her attitude quite sanguine, even cavalier.

“As I was saying, my recommendation would be a stateroom with an office for servants on the Lewis F. Linn. It’s an older boat, built in ’44 – I know the builder personally – with a seasoned and honest captain, Hiram Burch.

“And how much would that be?”

“$39 to Cairo – versus $30 for a simple cabin. You would need another boat from Cairo to St. Louis.”

“Cairo?”

“Yes, at the southern itp of Illinois, where the Ohio joins the Mississippi – 981 river miles from here.”

“I see, and how would we find a suitable boat in Cairo?”

“That is less important. St. Louis is a day trip if you leave Cairo in the morning, So, you would not be charged for a private cabin unless you wished. For $5-$7 your party could ride on the hurricane deck, or in the Lady’s or Gentlemen’s common cabins.”

“Hans and Becky, what say you? $3 each for deck passage or $4.50 for a bunk ans victuals?”

“I don’ wanta load no wood. So I say $4.50.”

“Hans?”

“Vat Becky says is gut.”

“When does the Lewis F. Linn depart?”

“It is being repaired and should leave sometime tomorrow.”

“Have you a recommendation for lodging?”

“I can write a note to Captain Burch, and you can stay in your cabin – but you will need to eat in the city.”

“Very well. So, Mrs. Cloverfield, do I pay you or the purser on the boat?”

“You pay me, and I pay the purser.”

My friends started to get their money, but I thought it better that it remained concealed. “I will collect from you two later.” I used two of the Captain’s banknotes to pay our fares and received $1.00 back in silver.

“Where might we eat?”

“There are shops catering to boat crews and mechanics along Front Street. They serve wholesome fare at moderate prices, but will not be open until the mechanics end their day – say 7:00. In the meantime, you might want to see Dan Rice’s circus, which is in town. He has set up near the public landing.”

“Thank you.”

Everyone knew of Dan Rice, the most famous entertainer in America. He started as an animal trainer with a pig named Sybil who could tell time and do other tricks, but came to do feats of strength, singing, dancing, acting and telling stories. Now he owned the greatest show on earth (or so it was said), and had put it on a “show boat” so he could visit the river towns.

As we walked down to the riverfront, the din and screech of machinery was deafening. I was surprised to see, on the far side of the river, yards building not only steamboats, but tall-masted ocean-going ships.

Rice’s circus was on a large flat boat. We paid 10c each for admission and found it well worth the money. Sandy and Hans sat next to me while Becky sat on the other side of Sandy. Mostly, we laughed so hard it was difficult to catch our breath. Yet, the mirth was punctuated by perilous feats of horsemanship and knife throwing. More than once I found Hans hanging onto my arm during these a acts.

After the show we were quite hungry and made our way along Front St. On the way, Becky noticed a sign showing a razor and scissors, and asked me to read it. “Barber and Hair Dresser Supplies. Cosmetics for Men and Women. Pierre Du Roi, Prop.” Excited by the display in the window, Becky insisted that we enter.

I greeted Monsieur du Roi in my best French, to which he only replied ‘Bon jour,’ with a terrible accent. Still, his stock was extensive and his dealing honest. Becky haggled over her purchases, managing a shrewd discount based on her signigificant outlay. She left with a flour sack containing an assortment of clay and willow curlers, steel and tortoise hairpins, boxes of curl clasps and hair crimpers (12 to a box at 75c), curling irons in various sizes, scissors, a razor, bone and tortoise combs, and various brushes.

“Now I can work on the boat, instead of waiting till we gets to St. Louis” she said, beaming.
We were all well pleased for her. While her purchases were quite professional, carrying them in a flour sack was less so. Further down, we passed a purveyor of luggage where I purchased her a shellacked pasteboard case for 65c.

After a dinner of greens, potatoes, mutton, beer and wiskey, we made our way to the public landing and found the Linn. I showed our tickets and Mrs. Cloverfield's the note to the officer seated at the gang plank. He signaled a deck hand who called a colored maid. She lead us from the cargo deck to the second, cabin, level. The men’s day cabin was forward and the women’s aft. The staterooms, so called because they were named after the states, opened onto the men’s and women’s rooms on the inside and onto the promenade on the outside.

“Which cabin would you like?” she asked.

“Which is furthest from the boilers?”

“The Alabama.”

“It has a office attached?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then we will take it.”

She opened the door and handed me the key. "I empty de slop pots every mornin durin breakfast. Dere's water in the ewer, but I's not be drinkin it. It comed from de river, what people poo and piss in. You'd best be drinking coffee, tea and beer, or mix your water wit wiskey. Dem that does spends less time in the privy."

“Thank you!" I gave her a 5c piece and she left.

"Becky do you mind sharing the office with Hans?”

“No, he be more a girl dan you be, Miss Nancy.”

“Perhaps.” I had thought the same thing earlier.

Once we were settled, we decided to go up to the hurricane deck to watch the sunset. The crew had their quarters there, leaving a large open space. Hans stayed close by my side while Sandy and Becky drifted off.

“Why are you staying so close, Hans?”

“You mach … ah, make, me feel funny, miss.”

“Feel funny?”

“Ya, like my freund Otto. Ich, … I never feel like dat mit einem Mädchen, uh, wid a girl before, aber … but you are zo stark, ah strong. I vant to be near you.”

I was unsure what to say, but gave him a reassuring hug across the shoulders.

Once the evening light faded, we retired. I slept poorly as work on the boilers proceeded through the night.

* The average life of an Ohio or Mississippi River steamboat was 4-5 years. Disasters were common, horrific, and accepted. http://genealogytrails.com/ark/greene/SteamboatDisasters.htm provides detailed accounts of innumerable accidents. Explosions usually resulted from boiler over-pressurization or the water above the firebox boiling away, allowing it to become red hot and soften. There were no government inspections before 1852.