第19章 密西西比河上的生活(2)
again，and the town drunkard asleep by the skids once more.
My father was a justice of the peace，and I supposed he
possessed the power of life and death over all men and could
hang anybody that offended him. This was distinction enough for
me as a general thing ；but the desire to be a steam-boatman
kept intruding，nevertheless. I first wanted to be a cabin boy，so
that I could come out with a white apron on and shake a tablecloth
over the side，where all my old comrades could see me ；later I
thought I would rather be the deckhand who stood on the end of
the stage plank with the coil of rope in his hand，because he was
particularly conspicuous. But these were only daydreams— they
were too heavenly to be contemplated as real possibilities. By and
by one of our boys went away. He was not heard of for a long
time. At last he turned up as apprentice engineer or striker on a
steamboat. This thing shook the bottom out of all my Sundayschool
teachings. That boy had been notoriously worldly，and I
just the reverse ；yet he was exalted to this eminence，and I left
in obscurity and misery. There was nothing generous about this
fellow in his greatness. He would always manage to have a rusty
bolt to scrub while his boat tarried at our town，and he would
sit on the inside guard and scrub it，where we could all see him
and envy him and loathe him. And whenever his boat was laid up
he would come home and swell around the town in his blackest
and greasiest clothes，so that nobody could help remembering
that he was a steamboatman ；and he used all sorts of steamboat
technicalities in his talk，as if he were so used to them that he
forgot common people could not understand them. He would
speak of the labboard side of a horse in an easy，natural way that
would make one wish he was dead. And he was always talking
about“St. Looey”like an old citizen ；he would refer casually to
occasions when he“was coming down Fourth Street”，or when he
was“passing by the Planter’s House”，or when there was a fire
and he took a turn on the brakes of“the old Big Missouri”；and
then he would go on and lie about how many towns the size of
ours were burned down there that day. Two or three of the boys
had long been persons of consideration among us because they
had been to St. Louis once and had a vague general knowledge of
its wonders，but the day of their glory was over now. They lapsed
into a humble silence，and learned to disappear when the ruthless
cub engineer approached. This fellow had money，too，and hair
oil. Also an ignorant silver watch and a showy brass watch chain.
He wore a leather belt and used no suspenders. If ever a youth
was cordially admired and hated by his comrades，this one was.
No girl could withstand his charms. He cut out every boy in
the village. When his boat blew up at last，it diffused a tranquil
contentment among us such as we had not known for months.
But when he came home the next week，alive，renowned，and
appeared in church all battered up and bandaged，a shining hero，
stared at and wondered over by everybody，it seemed to us that
the partiality of Providence for an undeserving reptile had reached
a point where it was open to criticism.
This creature’s career could produce but one result，and
it speedily followed. Boy after boy managed to get on the river.
The minister’s son became an engineer. The doctor’s and the
postmaster’s sons became mud clerks ；the wholesale liquor
dealer’s son became a barkeeper on a boat ；four sons of the
chief merchant，and two sons of the county judge，became pilots.
Pilot was the grandest position of all. The pilot，even in those
days of trivial wages，had a princely salary — from a hundred and
fifty to two hundred and fifty dollars a month，and no board pay.
Two months of his wages would pay a preacher’s salary for a
year. Now some of us were left disconsolate. We could not get
on the river — at least our parents would not let us.
So by and by I ran away. I said I never would come home
again till I was a pilot and could come in glory . But somehow I
could not manage it. I went meekly aboard a few of the boats that
lay packed together like sardines at the long St. Louis wharf，and
very humbly inquired for the pilots，but got only a cold shoulder
and short words from mates and clerks. I had to make the best
of this sort of treatment for the time being，but I had comforting
daydreams of a future when I should be a great and honored