Hoggee (13 page)

“The captain helped them off. I didn't want to bring up the book in front of him.” Jack shook his head. “We got to keep these jobs, brother.”

Howard turned away. He did not want to talk more to Jack. He did not want to talk to anyone. Later, on the towpath, he was able to talk to the mules, Annie and Betty. “I won't give up,” he said. “I will find a way to help Sarah. I will.”

When his shift was finished, he went into the dining room to fill his plate for the evening meal. He had just finished covering a large slice of beef with gravy when a voice called, “Hoggee, I look for you.”

The cook came toward him from the kitchen. For a second, Howard considered dropping the gravy ladle and bolting from the room, but the woman looked friendly. When he saw what was in her hand, he pulled in his breath with surprise.

She pushed the large brown book toward him. “Here,” she said. “The lady leave this with Delia, she say give it to the hoggee.”

“Oh,” he said, “the hand-talking book.” He set down his plate to take the book. A piece of paper stuck out from under the cover. Howard pulled it out and read:

Dear Young Man,

I want you to have this book. I can get another. My granddaughter has been to a special school for the deaf in New York City. We are headed home now. I wish you well and hope the book helps your friend.

Sincerely,

Mrs. John L. Brewer

“She gave it to me. She gave me the book,” Howard said, half to the cook and half to himself.

The woman smiled. “You tell Delia what book say. You tell me when you come to help.”

“Tomorrow,” said Howard. He grabbed up his plate, and with the book under his arm he headed back to his bunk.

While he ate, he read. There was, he learned, a finger movement used as a sign for each letter in the alphabet, but that wouldn't help Sarah, who couldn't read. There were movements, though, for words. Howard remembered that Mrs. Brewer had wondered how to say
bed.
He looked up the word. Then, following the instructions, he tilted his head to the side to rest on his open hand. Next, he used his index finger to indicate first the front legs of a bed and then the back legs. He practiced the sign again.

Howard flipped through the book. He could learn the signs and teach them to Sarah and Laura. The girls would be able to talk to each other.

When his meal was finished, he took one of the small boards from his haversack and carved. With each letter he felt gratitude to the woman, Mrs. Brewer. He would study the book, learn the signs, and find a way to teach Sarah when winter came.

For six weeks, Howard walked the towpath. His legs no longer ached so badly at the end of his turn. Every day he studied the book and practiced sign language. Some days he spent time in the kitchen with the cook. Delia did not talk to any of the other crew members, but now Howard was her friend. He told her about the girls, and he even taught her the sign for cook, the action of turning over a pancake. Sometimes they would make the sign to each other across the dining room when Howard came in to fill his plate.

He sat on a stool in Delia's kitchen one day, helping her peel potatoes. She moved from the stove to the window. “We at that Birchport right now,” she said, and Howard felt the boat stop. He went to stand beside Delia and look out. Bert was leading the mules away to be exchanged for rested ones, and some passengers were waiting to board.

Howard looked up the hill. He could not see the barn or Cyrus's house from the canal, but he knew they were there, just a short walk away.

Della seemed to read his thoughts. “Why you not get off?” she asked. “Why you not go teach some signs to girls?”

Howard walked back to the stool, took up his knife, and began to peel again. “I have to earn money for my mother,” he said, “and besides, I'm not sure Cyrus would let me teach Sarah. I'd have no place to stay either.” He shook his head. “It isn't as easy as just getting off the boat.”

“Humph!”
She threw up her hands in exasperation. “If Delia give up so quick, she not be cooking on
Blue Bird.
She be back on the island looking for some poor husband to support.”

Work schedules left little time to spend with Jack, but Howard did not mind. He had a purpose now, a driving force that had nothing to do with his brother. Just once he talked about the book to Jack. They were sharing a meal, and his brother did not even look up from his food. “There's nothing for it but to give the book to Laura when we close down for the winter. Maybe she can read enough now to help Sarah. There's no use you studying all that stuff.”

“There is a reason,” he said firmly, and he did study. He ached to share his knowledge. Then at the end of April, something happened. The boat's rudder snapped.

“Christopher Columbus!” called the helmsman. “I can't steer her without a rudder.”

“Stop the mules,” Jack called, and Howard stopped them.

Captain Wall came to the bow, and after some deliberation it was decided that they should go slowly on to Birchport, only twenty miles away. They were returning from Buffalo, and only the passengers bound for Albany would not have been delivered. “We'll have to lay over there for repairs,” said the captain. “Thank God this run is almost done. Our passengers will continue on other boats.”

Howard went back to his mules. He slowed the pace of the mules' hooves, but the pace of his mind picked up. He would be in Birchport for a day, maybe two. He would sleep in Cyrus's barn. Would there be work for him to do on the boat? Surely, there would be a chance to see Laura and Sarah. This was his chance to show them the book. His heart raced.

Jack left the bow and came out to walk beside Howard. “Do you know what tomorrow is?” he asked.

Howard shrugged, “Saturday, I think.”

“Yes,” said Jack. “It's Saturday, but I meant the day of the month.”

Howard shrugged again. “No, I don't know. Does it matter?”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Oh, it matters all right. Tomorrow is May first.”

“So?”

“May Day, you dunce. Tomorrow is May Day. Buck says Birchport has a big May Day Festival. He says the whole village turns out and has a merry time. He once won a pie-eating contest there, and he plans to try again tomorrow.” Howard looked back at the lean helmsman. He did not look as if he could win a pie-eating contest.

“Won't we have to work at something around the boat?” It did not seem reasonable to Howard that he would be given an entire day off.

“No,” Jack said, and punched his brother's arm. “It's a free day.”

“Are we to stay in the barn, then?” Howard asked.

Jack frowned slightly. “Well, you and Bert will. I am to be put up at O'Grady's Inn with the rest of the crew.”

“Don't fret over me not going to the inn. I don't like O'Grady. Besides, if I'm at the barn, I can see the girls. I want to show them the book.”

“Show them? Don't you mean give it to them?” Jack moved closer to Howard. “That is all you can do. You do know that, don't you?”

“I suppose so.” Howard did not look at Jack.

“Forget the book,” said Jack. “Let's talk about the festival. We'll have a high old time. Buck says there are all sort of competitions with money prizes: races, catching
greased pigs, mule pulls, and—hear this—a sling contest.”

“You're bound to win some prizes,” said Howard, and he looked down at the hard earthen path beneath his feet to hold back a sigh. He would rather, he thought, walk the towpath than spend a day being beaten by Jack in one event after another.

Jack nodded. “And an idea just came to me. Why not ask old Cyrus if the girls can come with us?”

“Oh no.” Howard put his hand out to catch at his brother's arm as if to stop him. “He would never let them go.”

Jack smiled. “You're thinking of the old Cyrus,” he said. “Not the Cyrus who wants me to court his granddaughter.”

A tightness grew around Howard's heart, and he thought he might have trouble breathing. So Jack knew, had known all along, and he did not object to the idea. “She's only fourteen,” said Howard.

Jack just laughed. “But back to May Day. Cyrus might not let Sarah go, but I bet he will let Laura and Gracie.”

“I won't go off with them without Sarah,” Howard said. “I'd sooner not go myself than leave her behind.”

“Why?” Jack looked closely at Howard. “Don't tell me you're sweet on the girl or something?”

“Don't talk like a fool.” Howard shook his head. Then he shrugged his shoulders. “I understand how she feels, that's all.” He did not add what he thought. She's like me.

Jack slapped at his brother's shoulder. “Then maybe I'll tell Cyrus we won't take any of them if he says Sarah can't go. I expect I can persuade him.”

Howard and Bert were settled for the night in the
barn when Jack came with the news. Sitting with their backs against the front wall of the barn, they were eating the supper of chicken, fruit, and bread that Howard had packed in Delia's kitchen.

Jack was full of pride at having gotten Cyrus to agree that Sarah could go. “I gave him my word that I will keep my eye on her. I told him no one would laugh at her. He said he trusts me to look after her. It will be a real frolic for them.”

Howard wondered how Jack would look after Sarah and still enter all the contests, but he said nothing. It would be he, Howard, who would see that no harm came to Sarah, and he would find a way to talk to Laura about the book. The thought made his heart glad.

“I'm off to the inn now,” said Jack, and Howard walked to the barn door with him. Jack pushed open the door, and he laughed. “I'll give your regards to O'Grady.”

“Go drown in the canal,” said Howard, and he was about to close the door when Jack stepped back inside.

“Wait,” he said, “that reminds me. I forgot to tell you the best part about tomorrow. There's going to be a daredevil show. A fellow called Amazing Alex. He's strung up a tightrope near the Main Street Bridge. He's walking across the canal, right at ten o'clock. Cyrus told me about it, says there's lots of talk as to whether or not the fellow will make it. They've got two platforms built for him with a wire stretched between them. Cyrus said even he might go watch.” He laughed again, and this time he left.

Molly, at work somewhere on the canal or asleep in one of the changing-station barns, was not in her stall, but Howard bedded down there, anyway. Warmer
weather made it unnecessary for him to burrow under the straw, but the spring night was cool enough to make him glad for his blanket. He wrapped himself in it and closed his eyes, but sleep did not come easily to him. He was filled with thoughts about the May Day Festival. He would, he decided, not enter any contests. It would be more fun to watch Jack. Ordinarily Jack would insist. “Don't be a spoilsport,” he would say, and Howard knew he would not have been able to put Jack off except for Sarah. He would need to protect Sarah. He smiled to himself. Protecting Sarah would bring him considerably more satisfaction than entering the competitions.

Howard carved the words, and he whispered the words to himself over and over as a prayer. They were strange words, words he had never imagined he would be saying.

He awoke that morning with no idea of what lay ahead. He used his foot to nudge Bert until he opened his eyes. “Get up, you lug-a-bed! This is May Day!”

For breakfast they ate apples saved from their food parcel, and they had not finished when Jack appeared. “You're wearing your crewman's jacket,” said Howard. “Aren't you afraid you will get grease or pie on it?”

Jack smiled. “I expect one of the girls will hold it for me while we are in the contests.”

Howard drew in his breath. Might as well get it over with. “I won't be competing,” he said. “Someone will need to be with Sarah.”

Jack looked at him for a long time, then he nodded.

“You won't find the likes of me playing nursemaid to some girl when there is pie to eat and money to win,” said Bert, and he threw his apple core at Howard.

Laura came to the door when Jack knocked. She wore a hat and looked quite grown-up. Gracie, her
braids flying behind her, pushed around Laura and ran down the steps. “Let's go,” she shouted. “May Day might be over before we find it.”

Howard reached out to pat her head. “There's no rush,” he said. “The festival lasts all day.”

Laura turned back into the house to get Sarah, who appeared in a hat like Laura's. Her expression looked confused. “She doesn't know where we are going,” said Laura. “I had nothing to point to, nothing to make her understand.”

Howard watched Sarah's eyes. Her gaze darted first to Jack, then to Howard, and finally to Bert. She stepped back toward the house. She's afraid because she doesn't know Bert, Howard thought. Maybe it is wrong to take her to a big gathering, but he still wanted to. He believed Sarah would understand the events when she saw them, and he believed she would enjoy them. He stepped up to the door, and he put out his hand to Sarah.

Sarah's eyes searched Howard's face. Then she put her hand in his, and together they walked down the steps. Birchport was alive with people. On the town square, three boys chased after a pig. “Let's give that pig a real chase,” said Bert.

Jack shook his head. “Let's look around some first.” He moved away, and everyone followed except Sarah. She stood watching the pig chase, her head cocked to one side. She understands this, thought Howard. He wanted to tell her about the prize, so he made the money sign, putting out his hand, running his thumb over his fingers as if feeling money.

“Sarah wants to see this race,” he called to the others, and they turned back. They watched as one boy caught
the pig, but it slipped away and ran. Finally the smallest boy grabbed the pig, and held him. The man in charge came over to the boy, who let the pig go. The man took a half-dollar from his pocket, held it up for the crowd to see, and gave it to the boy. Howard made the money sign again. The crowd applauded. Sarah smiled and clapped her hands together. Then she, too, made the money sign.