As they approached they saw by her
splintered bows that she had been in a collision. Others had noticed
this also, and already a crowd of people was gathered about her
gang-plank to learn the news. Forcing a way through for himself and
Cap'n Cod, Billy Brackett boarded the boat, and went directly to the
Captain's room.
The Captain was inclined to be ugly and uncommunicative; but, with a
happy thought, Billy Brackett displayed the badge with which Sheriff
Riley had provided him. At sight of it the man at once expressed his
readiness to impart all the information they might require.
Yes, he had been in collision with a trading-scow, but there were no
lives lost, and the damage had already been satisfactorily settled. It
happened a couple of miles above St. Louis, and the fog was so thick
that she was not seen until they were right on her. She was crossing
the channel, and they struck her amidship, sinking her almost instantly.
Her name? Why, according to this paper, it was the _Whatnot_. Queer
sort of a name, and she looked to be a queer sort of craft.
At this Billy Brackett's face grew very pale, while poor Cap'n Cod sank
into a chair and groaned.
"No lives lost, you say? What then became of the people who were on
board that trading-scow?"
"There were only three," answered the Captain; "her owner, a Mr.
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