CHAPTER XV.
IN WHICH PHIL PRODUCES THE RELICS OF HIS CHILDHOOD.
Having seated my party in my chamber, I told the last part of my storyfirst. I began by saying that I had been brought up on the upperMissouri, by Matt Rockwood, relating all my experience down to thepresent moment, including the history of the Gracewoods.
"That's all very well, Phil; but where were you born?" asked Mr. Gray."You left that part out, and told us everything except that which wewished to know."
"I don't know where I was born. You must ask my father?"
"Do you still persist in saying that Farringford is your father?"
"I still persist."
"But he has no children."
"I had one child," interposed Farringford, trembling with emotion, aswell as from the effects of inebriation.
"I remember," said Mr. Lamar. "You lost that child when theFarringford was burned."
"Yes," replied my father, with a shudder.
"Will you state precisely how that child was lost, sir?" I continued."I would not ask you to do so if it were not necessary, for I know thenarrative is painful."
"I suppose you claim to be this child, which, if I remember rightly,was a girl," added Mr. Lamar.
"No; it was a boy," responded Mr. Farringford.
"Gentlemen, I shall leave you to draw your own conclusions, after youhave heard the rest of the story."
"Can it be possible that you are my lost child, Philip?" said my father.
"Let us see the evidence before we decide," I replied. "Now, how wasthe child lost?"
"My wife's brother, Lieutenant Collingsby, was stationed at a fort onthe upper Missouri. My wife was anxious to see him, and we startedin one of the steamers I owned then, with our little boy two yearsold," Mr. Farringford began. "The boat had our family name, and wasthe finest one I owned. We enjoyed the trip very much. I didn't drinkvery hard at that time, gentlemen, though I occasionally took too muchin the evening, or on a festive occasion. On the night the steamer wasburned, we were within thirty miles of the fort to which we were going,and where we intended to remain till the Farringford returned from hertrip to the mouth of the Yellowstone. I know my wife did not undressthe child, because we hoped to reach the fort, and spend the night atthe barracks.
"Expecting to part with the passengers that evening, we had a merrytime; and I drank till I was, in a word, intoxicated. I suppliedwhiskey and champagne for everybody on board, not excepting theofficers, crew, and firemen, who would drink them. Even the two orthree ladies who were on board partook of the sparkling beverage.Wishing to reach the fort as early as possible, I told the firemen andengineers to hurry up when I gave them their whiskey. They obeyed me tothe letter, and the furnaces were heated red hot. I do not know to thisday how the boat took fire; but I do know that a barrel of camphene,belonging to some army stores on board, was stove, and its contents ranall over the forward deck.
"All hands worked hard to save the boat; but they worked in vain. Thepilot finally ran her ashore. I pulled down a door, and carried itto the main deck aft, while my wife conveyed the child to the samepoint. The fire was forward, so that we could not leave the boat bythe bow, which had been run on shore. I placed my little one upon thedoor, wrapped in a shawl, with a pillow on each side to keep it fromrolling into the water. The captain was to help my wife, while I swambehind the door, holding it with my hands. In this position, partiallysupported by the raft, I expected to be able to propel it to the shore.My plan was good, and would have been successful, without a doubt, if Ihad not been intoxicated.
"When I was about to drop into the water, the stern of the boatsuddenly swung around, and I lost my hold upon the raft. I had beenlying upon the edge of the deck, with my leg around a stanchion, myhead hanging over the water; and I think my position, in addition tothe fumes of the liquor I had drank, made me dizzy. I lost the door,and I think I partially lost my senses at the same time. The steamer,as she swung around, slipped from the abrupt shore which held her. Thismovement created a tremendous excitement, amounting to almost despair,among the passengers and crew. The door was carried away from thesteamer, and I lost sight of it. When I was able again to realize mysituation, I tried to discover the door, but in vain. I threw a box,which the captain had prepared to support my wife, into the water, andleaped in myself.
"The current swept the steamer down the river. I paddled my box to theshore, and landed."
"On which side did you land?" I asked.
"On the north side. I ran on the bank of the river, looking for mychild. The glare from the burning steamer lighted up the water, but Icould see nothing floating on the surface. I was the only person whohad left the boat so far, and I followed her till, two or three milesbelow the point where I had landed, one of her boilers exploded, andshe became a wreck. About one half of the passengers and crew weresaved on boxes, barrels, and doors. By the aid of the captain my wifewas brought to the shore. I shall never forget her agony when I toldher that our child was lost. She sank senseless upon the ground; butshe came to herself after a time. I wished that I had perished in theflood when I realized the anguish of losing my only child. I could notcomfort her; I needed comfort myself. I spent the long night in walkingup and down the banks of the river, looking for my lost little boy.Below the place where most of the passengers landed I found many doorsand other parts of the boat; but I could not find my child.
"I reasoned that the current would carry the raft which bore up mychild to the same points where other floating articles were found,and I was forced to the conclusion that my darling had rolled fromthe door and perished in the cold waters. I shuddered to think of it.Before daylight in the morning another steamer appeared, coming downthe river. We hailed her, and were taken on board. She proved to beone of my boats, and I caused the most diligent search to be made formy lost little one. About a mile below the point where the Farringfordhad been run ashore we found a door, with one pillow upon it, agroundon the upper end of an island. This discovery was the knell of my lasthope. Of course the child had rolled from the door and perished. I weptbitterly, and my wife fainted, though we only realized what seemedinevitable from the first. We discovered this door about daylight, andit was useless to prolong the search. The evidence that my child waslost was too painfully conclusive.
"My wife wished to return home. We were going on a pleasure excursion,but it had terminated in a burden of woe which can never be lifted frommy wife or from me. I drank whiskey to drown my misery. I was seldomsober after this, and I lost all my property in reckless speculations.I became what I am now. My wife never would taste even champagne afterthat terrible night. She in some measure recovered her spirits, thoughshe can never be what she was before. After I had lost everything, andcould no longer provide a home for her, she returned to her father.I have not seen her for five years; but I do not blame her. She was abeautiful woman, and worthy of a better husband than I was. You knowthe whole story now, Philip. These gentlemen knew it before."
"Not all of it," added Mr. Lamar. "And now we can pity and sympathizewith you as we could not before."
"No; I deserve neither pity nor sympathy," groaned my poor father,trembling violently. "If I had not been drunk I should have saved mychild."
"Perhaps it is all for the best, since the child was saved," said I.
"It is impossible!" exclaimed Farringford. "I cannot believe it. Therewas no one in that lonely region; and, if my child had reached theshore, it must have perished more miserably of starvation than in thewater."
"You say your wife did not undress the child, because you expected toreach the fort that evening," I continued. "Do you know what clothes ithad on?"
"I ought to know, for I have tearfully recalled the occasion when Ilast pressed it to my heart, after supper that awful night. It wore alittle white cambric dress, with bracelets of coral on the shoulders."
"Anything on the neck?"
"Yes; a coral necklace, to which was attached a locket containing aminiature of my wi
fe."
"In what kind of a shawl was it wrapped when you placed it on thedoor?" I asked, as I unlocked the bureau drawer in which I had placedthe precious relics of my childhood.
While he was describing it I took the shawl from the drawer.
"Is this it?"
Farringford trembled in every fibre of his frame as he glanced at thearticle.
"It looks like it. I do not know whether it is the same one or not."
I trembled almost as much as the poor inebriate in the excitement ofthe moment.
"I should hardly consider that sufficient evidence," said Mr. Gray."There are thousands of shawls just like that."
"I intend to furnish more evidence," I replied, producing the stainedand mildewed dress I had brought from the settlement. "Do you knowthat dress, Mr. Farringford?"
"It certainly looks like the one my child wore."
It was examined by the gentlemen; but they thought the evidence was notyet conclusive, and I took the bracelets from the drawer.
"Did you ever see these before?" I asked, handing them to the palsieddrunkard. "You will see the initials P.F. on the clasps."
"I have seen these, and I know them well. They were given to my childby my brother Philip," replied he, with increasing emotion.
"There may be some mistake," suggested Mr. Lamar. "Hundreds andthousands of just such trinkets have been sold in St. Louis."
"But these have the initials of my child upon them."
"P.F. may stand for Peter Fungus, or a dozen other names," repliedMr. Gray. "The evidence is certainly good as far as it goes, but notconclusive."
"What should you regard as conclusive, sir?" I asked, rather annoyed athis scepticism, which I regarded as slightly unreasonable.
"Evidence, to be entirely conclusive, must be susceptible of only onemeaning," added Mr. Lamar. "The articles you have produced may havebelonged to some other person, though it is not probable."
"I don't know that I shall be able to satisfy you, but I will try oncemore," I replied, taking the locket from the drawer.
I handed the locket to Farringford. He grasped it with his shakinghands, and turned it over and over. He examined the necklace with greatcare, and then tried to open the locket. He trembled so that he couldnot succeed, and I opened it for him. He glanced at the beautiful faceupon which I had so often gazed by the hour together.
"My wife!" exclaimed he, sinking into his chair, and covering his facewith his hands, sobbing convulsively like a child. "You are my son!"
"Perhaps not," interposed Mr. Lamar, very much to my disgust.
But my poor father was satisfied, and sprang forward to embrace me.The excitement was too much for his shattered nerves, and he droppedfainting into my arms. We placed him upon the bed, and I went for Mrs.Greenough.