Hoggee (11 page)

The boat stopped, and Howard woke. He wanted to see the passengers load at Albany. The boat, when full,
could hold as many as forty-five people, but there would not be that many on this trip, so early in the season. Still, Howard did not want to miss them. Some poorer people rode the line boat that also carried goods. Packets like
The Blue Bird
were only for travelers, and he always enjoyed watching them.

He went down to the bow of the boat. Jack climbed onto the dock, took the great rope from the mules' harnesses, and fastened it to the dock. Next Jack moved to help the passengers step aboard. Many of the travelers were men, some dressed in suits for business. There were women, too, with bright hats and parasols.

Two women traveled with a child, a girl of about ten. She carried a huge yellow cat, and the older of the two women carried a sort of boxed cage that Howard knew must be meant to keep the cat from running about the boat.

Howard watched Jack reach for the cat, thinking he would hold it while the girl boarded the boat. The girl turned away from him. “My granddaughter never allows strangers to hold Matilda,” the older woman said, “but if you would be so kind as to take this carrier, I would appreciate it.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Jack said, and he took the carrier from the woman and followed her across the boat. Howard knew Jack would likely earn a handsome tip from the woman, who was extremely well dressed.

Just before it was time for his shift to begin, Howard went into the dining room to fill his plate. Hoggees did not eat with passengers as the rest of the crew did. They took their food back to the sleeping hall to eat. Food was one of the good things about being a hoggee, at least on Captain Travis's boats. Two long tables were
filled with food—bread, cheese, ham, a pork roast, mashed potatoes, gravy, sweet potatoes, corn, two kinds of beans, two kinds of cake, and three kinds of pie.

Howard filled his plate, leaving just enough room for dessert. He was adding a piece of chocolate cake when he saw the cat people again. This time the cat rode in the carrier, carried by the younger of the two women. “I'll put Matilda over there, Mother,” she said, and she nodded toward a bench beside a window. “You and Susan go ahead and begin to get your food.” She started to move toward the bench, but the girl reached out and pulled at her dress.

The woman turned to the child, who held up her hands and moved her fingers. The mother set the cat carrier down, and she, too, began to move her hands. Howard watched the girl nod. The woman made one more movement with her fingers, nodded herself, then lifted the carrier and moved to put it beneath the bench.

Howard's heart began to beat fast. What were Susan and her mother doing? He stood by the door and watched as the women and the girl filled their plates. “Does Susan like cherry pie?” the grandmother asked the mother when she joined them at the dessert table.

“Give her apple,” the mother answered. Howard noticed that Susan said nothing. He wanted to watch these people more, wanted to sit near them. What if the new cook caught him eating with the passengers? Would that mean trouble with Captain Wall? He looked toward the kitchen behind the dining room. The cook was back there, unlikely to come out with more food at least for a while.

Howard decided to risk the cook's wrath. The little girl and her mother sat on one side of the table. The grandmother was across from them. Only four other people had come into the dining room. Holding his breath, Howard moved to a space just down from the grandmother. Her large cloth bag was on the bench between them.

While he ate, he watched and listened. The women discussed how the dining room would become the sleeping area at night. “See that big red curtain,” said the older woman, nodding toward a curtain gathered at the end of the room. “They pull it out to separate the women from the men. We've been assigned that first bench to sleep on. They will put pads on it. Some people will sleep on those shelves that get folded down from the wall.”

The younger woman turned to the girl beside her, and moved her fingers. The girl turned to look at the curtain and the shelves. Her mother's telling her about how they will sleep, Howard thought. She's talking to her with her hands!

“How do you say
bed?”
the grandmother asked, but before her daughter could answer, the woman went on. “No, don't tell me. I want to look it up. I'll remember better if I look it up for myself.” She reached into the bag and pulled out a large book. She began to turn through the pages.

In amazement, Howard leaned closer to the grandmother. Forgetting his shyness, he touched the woman's arm. “Is the little girl deaf and mute?” he asked.

The woman turned to answer him, but just then the cook came barreling from the kitchen. She was even taller than Howard had realized, and big-boned. Her
thick, dark hair was pulled back from a high forehead. The sleeves on her dress were very short, and she waved her long, dark arms as she stormed into the dining room. “Hoggee out!” she shouted. “No hoggees in dining room! Shoo!” She grabbed the bottom corners of her apron and began to flap it up and down.

Howard scrabbled up from the bench, hitting his knee on the table. “He bother you?” he heard the cook ask the women, but she did not wait for an answer. “Hoggees dirty and thieving. Steal and stink!”

For a minute Howard stood frozen. He did not want to leave without a look at that book, and he had to ask some questions. The table was between him and the cook, but she reached out as if to snatch him and drag him across to her side. Howard backed up out of her reach.

Everyone in the dining room stared at him. He bent toward the grandmother. “Madam,” he said to the grandmother, “please, I need to…” He cut his words off. The cook was going to the end of the table to come around to his side.

“Rascal!” she yelled. “You filthy scamp!”

Howard ran. At the doorway, he looked over his shoulder. The cook had stopped pursuing him. She leaned heavily on the table beside the grandmother, and she talked, her words pouring out too quickly for Howard to understand them from a distance.

He moved through the door and up the steps to the deck on top of the main cabin. He knew it must be almost time for him to take Bert's place on the towpath. The captain was sure to check to see that the change had been made. The deck was full of people enjoying
one of the first really springlike days. Howard made his way through the people. He noticed a young couple whose hands were locked together and who stared into each other's eyes. They did not look at him as he pushed his way around them.

Near the front stairs, three gentlemen stood smoking large cigars. He looked behind him. The cook did not seem to be chasing him. “Excuse me,” he said to the smokers, and he ducked between them to go downstairs.

At his bunk, he took his haversack from the foot-locker. There would be just enough time to record his exciting discovery. His heart beat fast as he carved. He did not care that he had been chased and screamed at. Nothing mattered but seeing that miraculous book. He carved quickly, then, smiling, went out.

Jack was on duty at the front of the boat, but Howard did not go over to him. He knew if he did, he would end up telling Jack what had happened. He did not want his brother to know he was already in trouble. He also did not want to tell him what he had just learned about deaf people; not yet.

Howard went quickly to the boat's edge and looked at the bank of the canal. He would like to be able to jump instead of asking the helmsman to steer the boat closer to the side. It would be better if he did nothing at this point to call attention to himself. Could he make it? Once last year, he had tried too big a jump and had ended up in the canal. Remembering, he made a face. The fall had been late in the season, not while the water was fresh from Lake Erie. Howard had fallen into water full of coal silt dumped from stoves, sewage from
the toilets, and all sorts of debris thrown into the canal by travelers.

He looked again at the distance from the towpath. Yes, he could make it. He walked back as far as he could go, took a running jump, and landed on the path. Bert walked ahead of him behind the mules. Howard called out to him. “Time for me to take over,” and he ran to catch up.

“Captain Travis bought some new mules. These are named Carl and Fred.” He patted the larger mule. “Carl here's a good fellow, but Fred bears watching.”

“Thanks,” said Howard, and he took the reins.

Bert stepped aside and bent to rub his legs. “Out of practice,” he said. “I'll have to ask Captain Wall for some liniment.” He limped toward the boat.

“The new cook's a wild woman. Chased me out of the dining room. Be careful.”

“Don't drown in the canal,” Bert called. Then he yelled to the helmsman, “Bring her over for me, please, Mister Buck. I've done in my legs with walking.”

Howard felt safe now. No one would interfere with the mule driver on the towpath. Hoggees were the lowliest worker on the canal, but in a way they were also the most important. Someone had to keep the mules on the path. Someone had to urge them along.

Without the mules, the boats did not move. Sometimes when captains of packet boats decided to race, hoggees would climb on the mules because they couldn't keep up when the mules ran. Four miles an hour was the canal speed limit because fast boats were likely to hit the sides and cause damage to the banks. Captains who raced had to pay a fine of ten dollars, but races still happened,
especially later in the season when everyone was tired and looking for a diversion.

Howard made his own diversion, and he kept it secret. He sang to the mules. Keeping his voice low so only the animals could hear, he sang all the songs he knew: “America,” “Old Dan Tucker,” “Amazing Grace,” “Buffalo Girls.” When he grew tired of repeating songs, he started making up new words to old tunes. Once he had actually written down words he made up to go with the tune from “Old Kentucky Home.” It was all about the stars that saw what went on below them on the Erie Canal.

Now, though, there was no singing. Howard had to think. He went back over what he had seen in the dining room. The little girl had never said a word, nor had her grandmother or mother spoken to her. She was deaf and mute, just like Sarah. Howard was certain of the fact. There was, however, one big difference. The little girl's mother talked to her with her hands, not just pointing to tasks the girl should do. Howard remembered how she had turned to the girl to explain the curtain. The girl talked back too.

A thrill passed through his body, leaving his arms covered with goose bumps. No, this Susan was not like Sarah, not really. He looked back over his shoulder at the boat. The little girl on that boat was not like Sarah at all. She was not locked in a prison of silence.

“Fellows,” he said to the mules, “I've got something to tell you. There's this girl I know. She's a real nice girl, but she's sad, so awful sad because she can't ever talk to her sisters or know what is said at the supper table.” He put the reins over his shoulder, reached out both hands,
and patted the mules on their sides. “We might be able to help her, but I need to see that book.”

He had to plan. The
clip-clop
of mules' hooves on the towpath filled his ears and eased his mind so that he could think. His shift would be over at six o'clock in the evening. Supper would be mostly over, especially with so small a passenger load. He would not go into the dining room to fill his plate. He had hardly eaten anything at noon, and his stomach was empty. No, it did not matter. Hadn't he been hungry plenty of times during the winter? He would not risk stirring up the cook by going into her domain, not tonight.

Probably he would find the family on the deck. The evening would be warm, and the lights of the boats and the stars above made a pretty sight. From the way the grandmother described the curtain, he knew the younger woman and the girl had not been on a packet boat before. The captains blew the whistles more at night, too, and the atmosphere on the cabin-top deck was like a party, often with a musician. Yes, he was certain to find the family on the deck.

Suddenly, Howard's mind was jerked back to his job. A bridge loomed in front of him, and Jack's voice was calling, “Low bridge, everybody down.” Howard's hands shook as he removed the reins from his shoulders. It was the hoggee's job to call out about the bridge. Then the bowman took up the call, warning the passengers who were on the high deck.

If Jack had not been looking, no one would have warned the passengers. People could be knocked down by the low bridges. They could be injured or even killed. Howard gave himself a shaking. Yes, it was good to plan how he would help Sarah, but he had to be
careful about his job, too. Frequently they passed under bridges built over the canal because farmers had their land split by the water and had to be able to reach the other side. Bridges were low, too, because high bridges were expensive to build.

“Look smart, Howard,” Jack called. “Get your mind on your business.”

Howard's face turned red. He had barely started the job, had walked only a few miles, and already the bowman had found it necessary to warn him. Howard bit at his lip. He had to do better. The scolding hurt more because the bowman was his brother, his brother in a grown-up uniform doing a grown-up job. He had messed up twice already on his first day back at work. He had to do better!

He kept his eyes on the path ahead. “Low bridge,” he called out as soon as the next structure came into view, and he felt better.

“Low bridge, everybody down,” Jack called. Howard wondered if the mother would sign the message to the little girl or if she would push her down and explain later. He knew that the child would be told about the bridges and the farmers who had to cross them to tend to their fields. Whatever was in that book, the one in the grandmother's bag, it had set Susan free from silence.

Howard's legs, like Bert's, ached by the time his shift was over. “Captain will give you the liniment,” Bert told him when he took the reins. “It fixed me right well.”