No Good Deed 43

Thankfully, the bizarrely dressed man had business at the other end of the long room and took himself off there to arrange some of the tables as some sort of large, raised daïs. I do not mean to infer that he himself laid a hand on any part of the furnishings, merely that he directed operations in a loud if repetitive fashion. It was indeed surprising that those passengers, mainly gruff and menacing males, made no great cavil at being directed in this feat of construction by the strangely dressed crouch-back. Truth to tell, they went about it with an enthusiasm surprising in such glowering brutes. I turned to the fellow behind the make-shift bar,

'I am somewhat astounded that such a one found so many willing to do his bidding,' I remarked.

The barman let out a steaming jet of tobacco juice. It was only slightly deflected away from my coat by the surface of the whiskey bottle before me.

'Gotta have a stage, if ya wanna have a show,' he shrugged.

'Show?'

I was dimly aware that the fellow was in danger of thinking himself in conversation with an imbecile. He did, however, manage a near-civilised reply:

'Mat'nees an' Evenin's. Minstrel Show. Best show on the river. That Cletus, he make me laugh fit ta bust a gut.'

Having - momentarily - considered busting the man's gut for him with the aid of a blunt knife, I bade him good day and went out on deck. The barman called after me,

'Mat'nee at 12, Mistuh!'

The moment I set foot outside the long room, I felt a juddering which shook my bones from toe to cranium. This was accompanied by a screeching and crunching in combination, which suggested - at the very least - a minor earthquake, and possibly some more catastrophic seismological event. To my relief, the noise was reduced in sufficient time to preclude any bleeding from my eardrums and followed by an almost imperceptible movement of the steam-powered boat astern. By-and-by, the vessel made a desultory drifting movement to the centre of the Mississippi and I discerned that the Enterprise was under-way.

It was a dull day, the sky as drab as the water of the river, to the point where it was uncertain which of them reflected the other. Ahead of me, toward the bow, a snake-like procession of passengers seemed in the grip of the same desire to circum-ambulate the entire vessel as though claustrophobia had set in the moment the Enterprise had cast off. I toyed briefly with the idea of turning about and walking widdershins against the tide of travellers, but caught sight of the slim figure of a woman a few yards to my front. The protests from the corpulent couple I pushed aside were drowned out by the shocked shrieks, when they fell into the stateroom of two swishes, who doubtless wished they had had the foresight to bar the door against any intrusion. I caught the woman by the elbow, she turned to face me. I noted that the clothes seemed patched and shabby, although clean. There was something strange about her, although I recognised Miss Winona Shepherd straightway.

'Yessuh, wha' kin ah do foh yuh?'

She gave a smile, and I was for all the world convinced that she did not know me. I began to stutter an apology, so astounded was I. To tell the truth the skin on her face was several shades darker: but when she narrowed her eyes, I knew her for Miss Shepherd truly.

'Do not speak to me,' she hissed.

I dropped my hold on her arm and watched her progress around the boat's bow, my jaw as low as any lollygagging bumpkin's.