The Hidden Gold. Sarah Masters BuckeyЧитать онлайн книгу.

      In 1854, many people and places in New Orleans had French names. You'll see some French names in this book. For help pronouncing French names, go here. Or, click on the name when it first appears in the story.

      1

      An Unexpected Traveler

      In her tiny stateroom aboard the steamboat Liberty, Marie-Grace Gardner carefully set her inkwell on the table beside her bed. Then she dipped her pen in the ink and wrote,

      Monday, March 13, 1854

      Dear Cécile

      My papa and I came aboard this morning. The crew is still loading cargo on the boat, but Papa says we’ll be leaving New Orleans soon. The Liberty is the biggest steamboat I’ve ever seen. The main cabin is as fancy as the ballrooms at the Grand Théâtre.

      As she dipped her pen again, Marie-Grace smiled to herself. She was sure that Cécile would remember the elegant building where they’d had their first adventure together.

      There’s a little girl named Annabelle Rumsford on board. Her mama asked if I’d play with her this morning. While Annabelle and I were on deck, I saw an artist painting pictures of the river. It reminded me of your brother Armand. I hope

      Marie-Grace stopped in mid-sentence as the door to her stateroom swung open.

      “I found you, Marie-Grace!” a little girl with blonde curls declared triumphantly. Holding her rag doll, Priscilla, close by her side, Annabelle rushed into the room and plopped herself down on the bed, right next to Marie-Grace.

      Oh dear, thought Marie-Grace. Annabelle was a cheerful little girl, full of energy and eager to play. Marie-Grace was happy to spend time with her, but right now she wanted to finish her letter.

      “Hello, Annabelle,” Marie-Grace greeted her. “Are you finished with your nap already?”

      “I wasn’t tired at all, so Mama said I could get up.” She leaned over the letter that Marie-Grace was writing, and her elbow smudged the fresh ink. “What are you doing?”

      “Writing a letter,” Marie-Grace said, moving the paper out of Annabelle’s reach.

      “I want to write a letter, too!” said Annabelle, swinging her legs from the edge of the bed. “May I use your pen? Please?”

      Marie-Grace hesitated. Her stateroom wasn’t much bigger than a large closet, but it was freshly painted and very pretty. There were two narrow beds set into the wall, one on top of the other. Both berths had white embroidered covers, and there was a delicate white cloth on the bedside table. Marie-Grace had already noticed that Annabelle was apt to get into mischief. So far this morning, the little girl had accidentally knocked over a bucket of water on the deck, and then, when she was running to tell her mother, she had slipped and fallen in the puddle she had made.

      If Annabelle spills ink in here, I’ll never be able to clean it up, thought Marie-Grace. “I’ll finish my letter later,” she told Annabelle. Marie-Grace put the cork back into the ink bottle and tucked it inside her trunk, along with the letter.

      For a moment, Annabelle’s blue eyes clouded with disappointment. Then she brightened. “Let’s go out on the deck again and throw bread.”

      Marie-Grace and Annabelle had fed the gulls earlier, and Marie-Grace still had one thick crust of bread left. “All right,” she agreed as the steamboat’s bell clanged. “We’ll be sailing soon, and then there won’t be as many birds.”

      Annabelle grinned and hurried to the open door. “Mama!” she called. “Marie-Grace said she’ll take me to feed the birds again.”

      “I’ll be there in a moment, too, dear,” Mrs. Rumsford answered from the room next door.

      Marie-Grace could hear Annabelle’s baby sister crying. She guessed that Mrs. Rumsford was glad to have help with Annabelle. “Let’s go,” said Marie-Grace, holding out her hand to the little girl.

      Each stateroom on the Liberty had two doors. One led into the main cabin of the steamboat. The other door opened onto one of the galleries that ran along the outside of the boat like long balconies, overlooking the river. Marie-Grace opened the door to the gallery, and the girls stepped outside.

      The Liberty was one of many boats docked along the busy, noisy New Orleans levee. Other steamboats were already sailing on the river, along with rafts, small fishing boats, and some old-fashioned flatboats loaded with cargo. Soon we’ll be on our way, too, thought Marie-Grace with a thrill of anticipation.

      She’d been on the Mississippi River before, when she had traveled with Uncle Luc and Aunt Océane to visit family. That had been a wonderful trip, but they had sailed only a short way. On this trip, Marie-Grace and her father were going to travel all the way from New Orleans to Cairo, Illinois. From Cairo, they would take another steamboat up the Ohio River to Pennsylvania, where they would visit old friends of Papa’s before returning to New Orleans.

      When Marie-Grace had told Cécile about the trip, her friend had made her promise to write as often as she could. “Tell me all about your adventures!” she’d urged Marie-Grace.

      Marie-Grace had hesitated. “What if nothing exciting happens?”

      “Oh, something will!” Cécile had insisted with her usual confidence. “Just don’t forget to write me about it.”

      Now as she and Annabelle walked toward the open promenade area at the front of the steamboat, Marie-Grace decided that she would tell her friend all about the Liberty. I bet Cécile’s never been on a boat this big either, she thought.

      The steam engines on the Liberty powered two huge paddle wheels, one on the starboard or right side of the boat, the other on the port or left side. The magnificent boat was painted white with blue trim. It had three full decks and a pair of tall smokestacks that rose high into the sky.

      When she and Papa had arrived on the Liberty, Marie-Grace had seen that each of the steamboat’s decks was very different. The first or main deck was crowded with cargo. Lots of people were on this deck, too. Some were crew members who were busy hauling crates and sacks and barrels on board. Others were passengers who traveled on the main deck, even though there were no staterooms or sleeping berths on this level. The main-deck passengers were able to get cheap tickets because they slept amid the cargo or on the open deck during the entire trip.

      The middle deck was called the boiler deck, and it was much fancier. Passengers paid more for their tickets, but they had private staterooms with comfortable beds. There were carved guardrails along the outside of the boiler deck, and passengers could sit or stroll along the galleries. Stateroom passengers, like Marie-Grace and her father, also enjoyed meals in the steamboat’s elegant main cabin.

      The boat’s captain, two pilots, and other officers had their living quarters on the hurricane deck, which was above the boiler deck. Perched at the top of the Liberty was the pilothouse, where the steamboat’s pilots steered the huge boat.

      This afternoon, Captain Obadiah Smith was standing with a dozen or so passengers on the boiler deck, watching the cargo being loaded on the main deck below. Mr. Stevenson, one of the pilots, was on the deck, too, along with Marie-Grace’s father, Dr. Thaddeus Gardner. Mr. Stevenson was a friend of Papa’s. Last summer, Dr. Gardner had taken care of Mr. Stevenson’s son when the boy had become sick with yellow fever, the terrible disease that had killed so many people in New Orleans.

      Papa had worked long hours during the yellow fever epidemic, and he had often treated patients at Charity Hospital. Two nuns who were traveling on the Liberty had worked at the hospital, too, and they greeted Papa