CHAPTER I.

COLONEL WIMPLETON WON’T HAVE IT.

“I won’t have it, Wolf Penniman! No, I won’t have it!” said and repeated Colonel Wimpleton, as, with an uncertain step, he shuffled up to the door of my state-room, on board of the Ucayga.

The magnate of Centreport was more than usually intoxicated. For two or three years he had kept himself well filled with rum. His face had grown red, and toddy-blossoms had gathered upon his aquiline nose, but he seldom manifested any of the ordinary symptoms of drunkenness. It was not often that he reeled, or became incoherent in his speech, as on the present occasion. If he was ever overcome by his besetting vice, it was not in public. I had certainly never before seen him in the condition in which he presented himself at the door of my state-room.

I was aware that the habit of drinking was gaining upon him. I had frequently seen him when he was affected by the liquor he had taken. I had known him to fall asleep in company when the conversation flagged, and I had often noticed the stupor of inebriation. He took less interest in the steamer, and in other business enterprises in which he was engaged, than formerly. Under the influence of his drams, when excited, he was even more violent than when he was sober. For years he had been the deadly enemy of Major Toppleton, the rich man of Middleport, on the opposite side of the lake. His intemperance did not moderate his hatred, though it deprived him of the energy to prosecute malicious schemes against his rival.

Three years before, Major Toppleton had completed the Lake Shore Railroad, intended in the beginning rather as a plaything for the students of the Toppleton Institute, and as a means of giving the young men a knowledge of railroad business, though the idea had enlarged on his hands, and the line had become a regular thoroughfare of travel. A violent competition had sprung up between the two sides of the lake. The projector of the railroad had purchased the old line of steamers, and ran them only to Middleport, thus compelling the people of the large and thriving town of Centreport to do all their business through the rival place on the other side of the lake. This was more than the choleric temper of Colonel Wimpleton could endure, and he immediately built the large, swift, and beautiful steamer Ucayga, to run between Centreport and the lower end of the lake, thus giving the town direct communication with the great business centres of the nation.

For a time the Lake Shore line had the advantage, and obtained nearly all the through business; but the new steamer, of which I had the honor to be captain, by making one through trip a day to Hitaca, at the upper extremity of the lake, beating the railroad line by three quarters of an hour, and affording better accommodation, without change from boat to cars and from cars to boat, turned the current of travel, and Centreport obtained a complete and decided victory over Middleport. Of course Major Toppleton was sorely vexed at the triumph of his great rival. He had vainly sought the means of recovering his lost prestige. The best time he could make was four hours and a quarter, while the steamer line accomplished the distance in three and a half. He could regain the ground he had lost only by building a steamer like the Ucayga, or extending his railroad through a wild region for twenty-five miles, to the head of the lake. Either of these expedients involved a very large outlay of money, which he was not willing to make. But he continued to talk of doing something, and there was no end to the agitation of the subject.

I had certain very decided views of my own, and earnestly hoped that the major would adopt neither of his expensive expedients. All Middleport and all Centreport had been at war with each other for years. Not only the major and the colonel, but their two sons, and the two academies under their patronage, had hated and fought each other; but now all had been reconciled except the two magnates, though the business rivalry between the two places was not abated. But it seemed to me that, after the two sons had become good friends and the two Institutes had fraternized, the two magnates hated each other more bitterly than ever. I could not help fearing that a new steamer, or an extension of the railroad, would increase the malignant rivalry; and, acting through Tommy Toppleton, the major’s son, and Waddie Wimpleton, the colonel’s son, I had done what I could to keep the two lines as they were at the opening of my present story.

Major Toppleton had proposed to me, and I had suggested to Colonel Wimpleton, the plan of uniting the two lines; but the magnate of Centreport had indignantly and scornfully repudiated the proposition. He would have nothing to do with the Toppletons. Such a union would be a benefit to the travelling public, while it would afford a remunerative business to each line. It would reduce the time from Hitaca to Ucayga three quarters of an hour, and make an end of all the ill feeling engendered by the competition. The one purpose of my existence, at this time, was to accomplish this union. I hoped and prayed for some happy circumstance that would reconcile the great men. I was even daring enough to attempt to contrive a plan by which this blessed result might be attained; but I had not been able to devise any expedient which appeared hopeful enough to be attempted.

Colonel Wimpleton was more than usually intoxicated when he presented himself at the door of my state-room. As he spoke he staggered into the apartment, and dropped heavily into a chair. It was mortifying and disgusting even to me to see him in this condition; but how much more so to his family! I pitied his wife, I pitied Waddie, and I pitied Minnie Wimpleton, the oldest daughter of the magnate; indeed, I pitied all who were connected with him; for if he was a terrible man when sober, he was vastly more terrible when intoxicated. Though he had occasionally found fault with me since I had been in charge of the steamer, he never indulged in anything which could be called abuse. On the other hand, if anybody could be said to have any influence over him, I had a very little. It was by my plans, and through my direct agency, that the steamer had won the victory over the rival line. I had always treated him with respect, and even with “distinguished consideration,” but at the same time I maintained my independence. The colonel knew that the moment he cast me off, the major was ready to take me up, and restore me to my old position on the railroad. Perhaps it is not exactly modest for me to state these things, but it would be mere affectation for me to ignore them.

“I won’t have it!” repeated Colonel Wimpleton, with greater emphasis, as he dropped into the chair in my state-room.

“What, sir?” I inquired.

“I say I won’t have it,” he replied, fixing a kind of vacant stare upon the floor.

I concluded that what he would not have related to the steamer, and I was prepared to receive the rebuke he had apparently come to administer. I could think of nothing I had done to deserve censure. The Ucayga had made all her trips with clock-work regularity. We had been “on time;” and except when the days were too short, we had put her “through by daylight.” The pleasure season was just opening, and we were carrying crowds of passengers. Certainly everything seemed to be lovely, and I was not conscious of deserving a rebuke. But in my relations with the colonel I often received what I did not deserve. I was tolerably intimate in the family of Major Toppleton. Tommy, now thoroughly reformed, was one of my best friends. He was grateful to me because I had assisted in saving him from the wrath of Jed Trotwood, and as he still had a great influence over his father, he always insured me a welcome at the Toppleton mansion.

Grace Toppleton was very kindly disposed towards me; and being eighteen now, I am willing to confess that I believed her to be the prettiest and the dearest girl in the whole world. I had become very particular in regard to my dress, and my mother often declared that she was afraid I should yet be a dandy, I was so particular to wear good clothes, and to have my neck-tie nicely adjusted. But, then, I was the commander of the Ucayga, and it was a part of my duty to make myself agreeable to the passengers, including many elegant and accomplished ladies. Yet I could not conceal from myself the truth that I cared more for the opinion of Grace than of all others. For her I wore the good clothes; for her I was particular about my neck-tie; and for her I brushed my hair till every individual lock had found its most graceful position. By continued perseverance in shaving my upper lip, I had coaxed a tolerable mustache into being, which, I fondly believed, not only overcame the juvenility of my appearance, but added a manly feature to my face.

I was very much interested in Grace, as I had been from the first moment I saw her. Indeed, this interest had grown upon me in a manner which I need not stop to explain. I acknowledged to myself that I had “intentions” in regard to her, though I could not help feeling that they were very presumptuous in me, who had neither a great name nor a great family to boast of. I had never said anything to Grace about these intentions, but I flattered myself that she was not wholly indifferent towards me. Her father did not seem to notice my attentions, but I was afraid he would. As this was the thought always nearest to my heart, it occurred to me, as the tipsy colonel sat looking at the floor in my state-room, that my devotion to Grace was what he would not have.