Houseboat Girl

  “Can we go in swimming?” asked Patsy.

  “No,” said Daddy. “There’s quicksand here—it’s too dangerous.”

  “Oh heck!” said Patsy in disgust. “After I learn to swim, I never get a chance to go in the water.”

  Off went Daddy and Mama in the johnboat to the town of New Madrid, pronounced New Mad´-rid. Patsy and Bunny were still in pajamas. They tumbled back into bed again. The houseboat always seemed empty with Mama gone.

  “Anybody who wants any breakfast better come and get it,” called Milly from the kitchen.

  “I’m not hungry,” said Patsy.

  “Neither am I,” said Bunny.

  But they came out and ate just the same. Milly pulled Dan out of his cot and dragged him by one leg to the kitchen. Half asleep, Dan tried to eat, then ran back to bed. He took Tom, the cat, under the covers with him.

  “You kids better get your clothes on,” scolded Milly.

  “Stop your bossing,” said Patsy.

  “Well, I’m boss when Mama’s gone,” said Milly.

  “You’re not gonna boss me any more,” said Patsy. “From now on, I’m my own boss.”

  “Ha! Ha! That’s what you think!” Milly laughed as she started to wash the breakfast dishes.

  Patsy put on her clothes and went out on deck. She sat on the couch and put her arm around Blackie’s neck. “Here comes a towboat!” she called. Bunny and Dan came running.

  “A towboat!” Milly dropped the dishcloth and came out, too.

  A big towboat was coming round the bend with a whole riverful of empty barges in front of it. It was going down river for a load of oil and going down very fast.

  “Oh boy!” cried Milly. “We’ll be knocked to pieces against the piling. What can I do?”

  Patsy and the little ones looked at Milly. She was boss after all, but her face was white and scared. Even Milly did not know what to do.

  “Go away, you mean old towboat!” cried little Bunny, shaking her fist at it.

  But the empties were coming closer and closer, and behind them came the huge clean white towboat, pushing hard. The captain up in the pilothouse gave a snort on the whistle as the tow came closer and closer.

  “If he’ll just hold to the outside of the channel…” said Milly under her breath, “maybe he won’t tear us apart.…”

  The children ran to Milly and clung to her as if she were Mama. Even Patsy was scared and looked to Milly.

  “Can’t you do something?” she cried.

  But there was nothing at all to be done. Nothing but to watch fascinated as the huge towboat scraped past and the great waves came rushing toward the defenseless houseboat.

  When they hit, the houseboat was thrown heavily against the piling. All four children were thrown off their feet and went sprawling. Dishes and pans fell inside and furniture was knocked over. The next minute the houseboat was pushed so far out that two ropes broke, the one from the stern to the piling, and the towline from the cabin boat to the houseboat. The third rope from the bow to the piling still held and the houseboat swung round and round.

  Out on the cabin boat, the chicken coop was knocked down, the door had burst open and the chickens were thrown out. Some landed on top of the cabin and others fell into the river.

  The children scrambled to their feet unhurt, just in time to see the towboat make the turning off Kentucky Point Bar. All they could see was her wash, and then she cut behind the bank and was gone. It had all happened so quickly, they were stunned. Blackie was barking, but Dan was the first to speak.

  “You mean old captain!” he cried, shaking his fist. “We got just as much right on this old river as you have. Why couldn’t you slow up? You just wanted to tear us to pieces!”

  Then Patsy saw her chickens. “Oh look!” she cried. “My chickens! What can I do?” Before Milly could answer, Patsy saw the broken ropes. “Are we loose?” she cried, with fear in her eyes. “If we’re loose, the current will take us down river without Mama and Daddy!”

  Dan and Bunny began to wail.

  “I’ll try to find some rope,” said Milly, “to tie us up again. She looked around. “But how can I get to the cabin boat?”

  The second johnboat, the one without a motor, was out on the river floating away. There was no way to get to the cabin boat, so she was helpless. The houseboat was swinging round and round, and soon the frayed rope that held it, snapped in two.

  “The rope’s broken!” cried Patsy, clinging to Milly. “Now we’re goin’ down river for sure!” The little ones began to cry, and Blackie began to whine. Bunny ran inside and crept under the bed for safety. Dan crouched on the couch, his arms tight around the dog. The houseboat began to bounce around.

  But Milly had no time to cry. She climbed up the “monkey pole” to look for rope on the catchall roof, but there was none there. Even if she found rope, she did not know how she could tie the houseboat up without a johnboat to take her to land. Up on the roof she found two long oars and brought them down.

  “We’ll try to keep it close in, if we can.” She spoke quietly now to Patsy, handing her an oar. “We’ll do what we can till Daddy gets here. Even if we float a ways, it won’t hurt us any.

  Daddy can come after us.”

  Milly’s judgment was good, so Patsy did not question it. She took the oar and tried to help. The houseboat bobbled about on the river, but had not gone very far, when the johnboat with Mama and Daddy in it appeared. Oh, how good it was to see them again! Before the sacks of groceries were unloaded, the story of the mishap, had been told. Abe Foster was furious.

  “If he’d a ripped us up or busted the hull open, he’d a had to pay damages,” Daddy said. “I’ve got as good a right here as the biggest towboat on the river. If there’s anyone a shantyboater hates, it’s one of them cocky towboat pilots!”

  Daddy went straight to the cabin boat and soon the houseboat was tied up safe and sound again. Then he brought back the floating johnboat and was trying to rescue the chickens, when he heard a truck on the river bank honking its horn. He thrust four hens hastily into their coop. Then he shoved the boats, houseboat and all close to the bank to get gas. The man on the truck reached his long hose over to the barrels on the cabin boat and filled them.

  The children kept talking about what had happened.

  “Was I ever scared!” cried Bunny. “I ran and hid under the bed.”

  “Under the bed is a good safe place,” said Mama.

  “Look what’s happened inside, Mama!” cried Patsy. “Everything is knocked to pieces.”

  They went in and began picking things up. Patsy threw the broken dishes into the river and watched them sink to the bottom.

  “Mama,” said Patsy thoughtfully, “I was glad Milly was here with us. She tried to do what she could.”

  “There was nothing she could do,” said Mama.

  “I listened to her,” said Patsy. “I took the oar and paddled to keep us from going down river.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” said Mama.

  “Do you know what, Mama?” Patsy went on. “Guess what I saw on that towboat! The cook came to the door of the galley and dumped out a bucket of potato peelings—to feed the fishes!”

  Dan and Bunny laughed.

  “And do you know what else I saw, hanging by the galley door?” said Patsy. “A great big stalk of bananas!”

  “You saw all that?” Mama laughed.

  “Oh Mama, those bananas looked so good…” said Patsy. “I just wanted me a banana so -o- bad!”

  “I guess you weren’t so scared, after all,” said Mama. “I tried to buy bananas in town, but couldn’t find any.”

  Bunny looked through the grocery sacks and found a sack of hard candy. The children filled their mouths until their cheeks puffed out.

  “Did you go to the post office, Mama?” asked Milly.

  “Yes,” said Mama. “No package. I told him if it came to forward it to Tiptonville.”

  Soon Daddy had everything under control and t
he houseboat resumed its voyage. Patsy was brokenhearted to leave four of her chickens behind, but it could not be helped. She still had Shoo-Fly, Mrs. Cackle, Jenny Brown and Fluffy Tail. It was about ten in the morning when they started, but they did not go far. About two and a half miles south of New Madrid Daddy tied up. Nearby was a concrete bank with a sandy stretch at the bottom.

  “What are we stopping here for?” asked Milly.

  “I want to do the washing,” said Mama.

  The children did not wait to ask questions. They jumped off the deck and started running up and down the concrete. They shouted and sang while Blackie pranced and barked. They acted as if they had never been on land before.

  The sun had come out but it was still windy—a good day to dry clothes. Daddy hunted driftwood and built fires under the washpot and washtub. Then he stretched the clothesline from the back porch post to a tree. While Mama and Milly washed, the children chased Blackie up the river bank. They found some hedge apples on a bushy tree. The apples were green and hard like walnuts and the children wanted to eat them, but Mama made them throw them away. On the overhanging branch of an oak tree, Dan and Patsy practised skinning the cat and other acrobatic stunts. Soon the clothes were blowing merrily in the breeze, the line propped up with Mama’s own precious clothes props brought all the way from Illinois.

  Patsy stood by counting. “Five dresses, nine overalls, twelve shorts, nine shirts and four skirts…”

  “And that’s not all,” added Mama, pointing to another pile.

  Daddy caught some fish and Mama fried them over the campfire on the sand. Eating outdoors was like a picnic. The sun came out good and hot, so the children put on their bathing suits and waded and splashed in the water. Patsy swam out and came back many times. Mama gave the children soap for baths. She washed all their heads and they dried their hair in the sun.

  About four o’clock, Daddy got ready to move on.

  “We’ll have to find a better harbor,” he said. “We can’t stay here. The wind would wash the houseboat up on this concrete and wreck it.”

  Farther on, a good, harbor was found sheltered by high trees from the wind. It was rough that night and the family heard the waves slapping against the hull all night long. But aside from fallen branches of trees, no damage was done. The next day was stormy and rainy, so they stayed where they were. Mama did her ironing, Daddy worked on his engines while the children played. Dan and Patsy did acrobatic stunts until they were tired.

  The next day Kentucky was left behind and Tennessee appeared on their left bank. It was still windy and the wind was up river as before. That made hard going, so progress was slow. The children were bored and restless because nothing happened. Then they heard a power boat coming.

  “What the heck is that?” asked Patsy.

  “It’s a big cruiser,” said Milly. “That’s a Fleetcraft, isn’t it, Daddy?”

  “Looks like it,” said Daddy. “Mighty pretty boat, and fast, too. Worth a lot of money. You got to be rich to have one of those boats, but I wouldn’t trade it for my little old houseboat.”

  The big cruiser went sailing by, making the houseboat seem as out-of-date as a log-cabin flatboat of a century before.

  “I’d like to have a ride on it just once,” sighed Milly.

  “Me, too,” said Dan.

  “You can have it,” said Patsy. “Me and Daddy’ll keep the houseboat. We don’t want to go that fast.”

  Because of the wind, the day’s run was short, only to Tiptonville, Tennessee. Daddy eased into the bank below the landing of the busy ferry. The town could not be seen as it was too far from the river. Daddy and Milly walked all the way to the post office to see if her package had come, but it wasn’t there. Back at the houseboat Mama had started supper, when the children came running in to announce that Blackie was missing.

  “Now, what next?” cried Mama.

  “Blackie followed us up the hill,” said Milly, “and I told him to go back. I didn’t see him after that. Why don’t you kids watch where he goes?”

  “Oh, don’t worry, he’ll come back,” said Mama. “Blackie knows the hand that feeds him.”

  Patsy could not wait for the dog to come back of himself. She ran up on the dock where there was a small store for boat supplies. The man there pointed up the hill.

  “I saw a black dog go up that-a-way,” he told her. “He was heading toward the ferry.”

  Patsy sent Dan back to the houseboat to tell Mama. When he returned, they hurried on. They came up to the landing barge, where a ferryboat was waiting. A line of six or eight cars began to move ahead slowly. The children looked around, but there was no sign of Blackie.

  “Blackie! Blackie! Where are you?” cried Patsy.

  “I bet somebody in one of those cars took him,” said Dan.

  “We’ll look in their windows and see,” said Patsy fiercely. “If we find him, we’ll pull him out. They’d better not steal our Blackie.” Tears filled her eyes.

  They watched the cars going on the ferry, but there was no black dog in any of them.

  “Maybe he went on the ferryboat,” said Dan.

  Patsy looked fearfully at Dan. “How will we get him off?”

  “We’ll go right on the boat and take him,” said Dan, showing unexpected courage.

  “But I’m afraid,” said Patsy. “The ferryboat might go off with us.”

  “It’ll go off with Blackie if we don’t hurry,” said Dan.

  Patsy forgot her fears. The next minute she and Dan were running onto the ferryboat. The man who was putting the chain across the stern waited to let them on. He looked at them as if foot passengers were unusual.

  “Where you kids going?” he asked gruffly.

  Patsy stopped, her heart in her mouth. “We’re not crossing over…” she began.

  “Well, get off then!” the man scolded.

  “But our dog…he’s lost and we’ve got to find him,” spoke up Dan, “and you can’t stop us either!”

  “Hey, what’s this?” called a man passenger, laughing. “These kids holding up the ferryboat?”

  “They’re after a dog,” said the ferry man. “Guess we’ll have to wait.”

  Patsy and Dan had rushed to the front of the ferry, ducking around the crowded cars and peeking inside each one.

  “Where is he? Oh, where is Blackie?” cried Patsy.

  “Are you children looking for a black dog?” asked a strange lady. “There’s one up front.”

  “Blackie, oh Blackie!” cried Patsy.

  It took only a minute to find him. There was Blackie on the deck in front, looking off into space, quite unconcerned. He was all set for a voyage across the river. He turned his head when he heard his name called.

  “Blackie!” cried Patsy. “What you doin’ here?”

  “Where do you think you’re goin’?” asked Dan behind her.

  Patsy picked the dog up and she and Dan rushed back. The ferry man held the chain up until they dashed through.

  “You found your dog, I see!” he said.

  The man passenger laughed. “Now the kids are happy. They’ve got their pet back again.”

  Patsy and Dan watched the ferry pull away. Then Patsy looked down at the dog in her arms.

  “Where were you going, Blackie?” she asked tenderly. “Were you going away and leave us?”

  “He wasn’t going away,” said Dan. “He just got mixed up. He thought he was on the houseboat going down river.”

  “We’ll have to watch him better after this,” said Patsy.

  There was great rejoicing in the Foster family when Blackie was brought back and the story told. They all laughed about Blackie wanting to take a ride on the ferryboat.

  In the morning, they were off again.

  Patsy thought now and then about her old home in a real house in River City, Illinois. The two short years of her life spent there now seemed like a dream. Even the memory of her best friends there was fading. She never talked about Ginny Cobb or the Cramer girls
any more. She never mentioned Pushcart Aggie or Janey Miller, and her pearl. All that was buried deep in the short past of her childhood. The experiences of now and the present were so rich, she was not reminded of what had gone before.

  Now her life was the river, the great Mississippi River which had claimed the souls of so many people before her, people of all kinds, all ages and stations. The river was a mighty force that challenged human beings and dared them to meet that challenge. All her life now was bound up in the river. Some days she just sat on the deck and dreamed.

  In her mind was a confused jumble of impressions—willow trees and sand bars, wooded islands and towheads, snakes, turtles and fish, water birds in the shallows and land birds in the cottonwoods, pile dikes, asphalt banks and cave-ins, buoys and river lights and day marks. Once when they stopped she saw the bright eyes of a raccoon looking down from the branch of an overhanging tree, but Daddy would not let her get it for a pet.

  It was hard to remember the days of the week, or what town they had been in or passed by. It was hard to remember where particular events had taken place. One day passed and another came. The Foster family kept going without seeming intent or purpose, just to keep going. Sometimes Patsy wondered if they would ever stop and if she would ever live in a house again.

  Now she saw the people on the river banks with a fresh eye. She would see children stopping their play and staring as the houseboat went by. She would see a mother hanging the wash out on a line, but the line was tied to a little house with roses blooming over the doorway and not to a houseboat. She would see the cars moving along the road with people riding in them, and now and then a train with people looking out the windows.

  She felt sorry-for the land people now. They did not know what they were missing when they stayed in one place all the time. She pitied the children because they had only a yard or a few streets to play in, instead of a great river that went on and on even to the ocean. She knew they had stores and movies to go to, and some had television in their homes, but all that was stupid and dull beside the richness of outdoor life. Didn’t they wish they could be on a boat like her, to stand on the deck and fish, to jump off the deck and have a swim? Didn’t they know how exciting it was to live on a houseboat?