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“Proves what, sir? I don’t know that I follow you.”
“A certain well-fixed gentleman and I engage in friendly competitions. We started in business, buying outfits out from under each other — factories, railroads, banks — and we’ve since moved into more pleasurable contests. We had a yacht race across the Atlantic Ocean. He won. By a nose. We had a train race from San Francisco to Chicago. I won. By fifty lengths. Now he’s gone and challenged me to a steamboat race. Pittsburgh to New Orleans and back.”
“That sounds like a fine idea.”
“Yes, except he obviously planned ahead and bought the only available boat. So now you say you have one that is as good.”
Court Held winked. “I’ll tell you this, sir, he didn’t buy the fastest.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Nope. Though it is the stronger, the Vulcan King is not as fast as White Lady.”
“Why’s that?”
Court Held lowered his voice and looked around the empty shipyard as if to ensure they were alone. “She’s packing a lot of extra weight, seeing as how the government wanted her reinforced to carry cannon.”
“So the Vulcan King is much stronger?”
“Her decks are.” Court lowered his voice to a whisper. “Between you and me, any steamboat is more an idea of boat than a solid boat. They have short lives. Ours are the best you could buy, but none of them lasted that long.”
Bell recalled Captain Jennings’s spit-and-sawdust.
“Before I buy it, I’d like to be sure that he’s already bought his. You understand, we also compete at leg-pulling. I got him good recently. He’s out for revenge. So I want to be darned sure he hasn’t set me up buying a steamboat I don’t need.”
“You could always use her to travel.”
“How long does it take to steam from here to Pittsburgh?”
“I told you, sir, she’s a fast boat. She’ll make Cincinnati to Pittsburgh in two days.”
“My special just took me here in four hours. So I’m not planning any steamboat traveling, but I do intend to be in this race if it is a race. I’m asking you again, who bought your other boat?”
“His name was Smith.”
“Smith?”
“Smith. I know. I worried, too.”
“I don’t think I’d take a check from an out-of-town fellow named Smith.”
“Nor would I, sir. Cash on the barrelhead from any man who calls himself Smith.”
“That’s a lot of cash for an out-of-town fellow to pack with him.”
“He paid with bearer bonds.”
“Bearer bonds?” the gent in white echoed. “They’re a risky proposition. How’d he guarantee they were still good?”
“A New York broker was the issuing agent. Thibodeau & Marzen. He marched me straight to their Cincinnati branch office on East Seventh and I walked out with the cash.”
“What did he look like?”
“Not quite so tall as you. A bit wider. Dark hair, what I could see of it under his hat.”
“Beard?”
“Clean-shaven.”
