The Mystery on the Mississippi

A barge broke loose, and that’s why we’re running so close to shore. We have to pull in and tie it up. One more delay, and we won’t get to Cairo till next week! Everyone out on deck!” he told the hands. “We’ve a lot of work to do!”

    The Bob-Whites were up at the first tinge of dawn and ready for breakfast with Captain Martin. “I’ve checked with every member of the crew,” he told them. “I can’t find a clue to who might have gone through your things. Did you miss anything?”
    “No, but....”
    “Yes, Trixie?”
    “I honestly don’t think that anyone who belongs on this boat upset our room. Someone did jump into the water and swim to shore. We know that for sure.” The Bob-Whites agreed vigorously. “That guy practically knocked me on the head making for the stairs,” Dan said.
    “It couldn’t have been anyone on board,” Captain Martin mused. “I know every single soul on board, and they’re all here. Not since I’ve been captain of the Catfish Princess has there been a stowaway on board. Where could a man hide?”
    “I don’t know,” Trixie answered. “But a man did hide somewhere.”
    Impressed with her earnestness, Captain Martin said quietly, “It was a buoy you pointed out to me in the water... that is, if we were looking at the same thing. I made every inquiry I could along the shore, over ship-to-shore phone, and again after we tied up to fasten that barge. No one saw anything of a swimmer. I’ll admit there weren’t many people around at that time of night—just two men fishing and a couple more hanging around the levee. None of them had been in the water. It surely puzzles me.”
    Trixie looked around her to see if Mrs. Aguilera was within hearing distance. “Before we started singing, we met Mr. Aguilera carrying a tray out of their room, and I asked him if Mrs. Aguilera was tired and he had taken it to her, and—”
    “Yes, I know, Trixie. Mrs. Aguilera thought you might remember that and mention it. She explained it to me. When she and her husband came aboard in the early morning to fill the emergency vacancy, they hadn’t had their breakfast. They took some coffee and rolls into their cabin, and they hadn’t had a chance to return the tray to the galley. So, you see, that clue’s out. However, you keep up your detective work, Trixie. The Belden-Wheeler Agency may still come up with the answer. In the meantime, I’ll turn in a report to the office in St. Louis. I’ve had thieves on board before, but they always stole something, and we tracked them down.”
    “Then you don’t intend to try to find out who the stowaway was? You can make fun of Honey and me and our agency if you want to, but we’ve tracked down some pretty mysterious people.”
    “I’m sure you have. In the first place, I don’t honestly believe that there was a stowaway on board or that anyone jumped overboard. As I told you, the water back there is awfully deep, and no one who knows the river would ever try to swim it. Some pretty ugly fish live in the depths.”
    “How big?” Mart asked, instantly alert. “Paddlefish up to two hundred pounds.”
    “Jeepers!” Trixie’s blue eyes popped.
    “You never thought the Mississippi had fish that big, did you, Trixie? Well, it does. A paddlefish looks something like a shark. Say, did you ever see a catfish... a really big catfish?”
    “How big?” Mart asked again.
    “Six feet long. Very ugly... blue black... popeyes... barbels that jut out.”
    Honey nudged closer to Trixie.
    Captain Martin smiled. “You ought to hear the Cajuns down around New Orleans tell about big fish. If you were only going there with us, I’d have Shanty Jim, on the levee there, tell you about a garfish he saw. ‘Old One-Eye’ he calls him. Jim swears that he wears a gold crown and smokes a pipe, pushes up sandbars for tows to go aground on, and swishes his tail to make currents—and even that sometimes, when he gets hungry, he picks off a deckhand for lunch!” Trixie and Honey, who had sat listening, relaxed and laughed.
    “Laugh if you want to,” Captain Martin said. “I long ago learned not to laugh at any legend I heard about the river. I’ll tell you one thing: Roustabouts along the river give Old One-Eye a wide berth. When they get all tuckered out, they drop tobacco in the water for the old garfish. They like it when he lights up his pipe. The smoke gets thicker than fog, and boats have to tie up. Then they get a rest from totin’ bales of