Chapter Eighteen

They headed for the county courthouse, built less than twenty years ago on High Street. It was a stone building with two pillars supporting a frieze and pediment gable. A small open dome rose above the roof. Cory led the way inside, across the rotunda’s foyer, past the county offices, and out the opposite door, which opened onto Broadway Street.

They passed the jail on the other side of the street opposite the courthouse. It had been built in 1843 of local sandstone. The soft stone had to be reinforced with steel rods after prisoners dug their way out and escaped the new building. The three-story structure had small bars in each window except those in the living quarters for the sheriff and jailer.

The train tracks ran parallel with Broadway Street. “Are we heading for the depot?” Tyler asked.

“We want Buck and Edward to think we are. Then we’ll head back downtown to the canal.”

“But I thought we wanted them to follow us.”

“We do, but we want to give Grandpa time to get the Irish Rose underway.”

“Can your grandpa lose them on the river?”

“It’s a canal boat not a river boat,” she corrected. They headed west on Quarry Street. “We can’t outrace them. That’s why we need some distance. Once we’re underway, it won’t be easy for them to board.”

“Is your grandpa what they call a muleskinner?”

“Of course not!” Cory needed to educate him before he offended someone. Canal people solved insults with their fists, and she was rather fond of his face. “A muleskinner drives mules along the towpath to pull the canal boats through the canal. Children do that.”

He studied her. “Have you ever been a muleskinner?”

“The whole family helps out on a canal boat,” she excused. “My mother and her brothers lived on the canal boat when they were younger. But now Uncle Padrick owns an inn in Peninsula with Grandma Donovan, and Uncle Clive has a farm for mules. My cousins and my sisters take turns working for Grandpa. Cole and Jess are helping this year, but with me at Adelaide’s and Jem working for Papa, my mother needed them to help with picking berries and making jam this week.”

He chuckled. “So you were a muleskinner.”

“Mule driver. It’s a lot easier than jumping on and off the boat to move it through the locks. But I always hated clearing the snakes.”

He grimaced. “Snakes?”

“They like to sun themselves on the towpath. Makes the mules skittish,” she explained. “You throw the garter and black snakes in the grass, but you have to kill the rattlers.”

“At least rattlesnakes warn you of a strike. We have copperheads in Virginia. They like to coil up and wait for you to step on them.”

“Let’s hope Edward is more like a rattler.”

Tyler turned around. “How far back is he?”

“Far enough.” Only if the Irish Rose was down the fifteen-lock staircase, and Grandpa was ready to get under way. “Let’s run!” She grabbed his hand and rushed into the crowd on Main Street. They wove their way down the steep hill to Howard Street. Although this part of the street was home to legitimate businesses, farther north it was known for gamblers, drunkards, and the Unfortunate Maiden whorehouse.

They headed for Mustill Store. The two story market sold everything from groceries and fresh meat to dry goods and traveling provisions. A narrow road separated the store’s porch from the canal. Like many of the businesses located on the edge of the man-made ditch, it relied on the canal for moving goods. But Mr. Mustill also owned a closed delivery wagon for taking merchandise to customers in town. His son, Tom, was loading it.

The Cuyahoga River, which ran north of North Street, had a series of waterfalls and large boat-damaging rocks that made it impractical for ship travel. The canal ran solo from Summit Pond to North Street, then parallel to the Cuyahoga River until it reached Lake Erie. The canal provided a calm man-made waterway for shipping from Cleveland to Akron. Unfortunately, the eight-year-old railroad connecting the same cities could carry passengers more comfortably and travel faster, putting the canal in jeopardy of becoming an unprofitable transportation route.

Mills dotted the banks of the canal and kept captains busy hauling wood, paper, and coal. Farmers still sent their wheat, oats, corn, flour, cheese, and whiskey north to Cleveland and bought nails, glass, cloth, salt, coffee, tea, and other manufactured goods in exchange.

Although this was the third Irish Rose, all Captain Donovan’s boats were eighty feet long and fourteen feet wide to fit through the fifteen-foot wide locks. Every canal boat ran shallow with a draft of three feet fully loaded.

When Captain Donovan owned a packet version of the canal boat, his sons served as the steersman and bowsman. Maureen drove the mules, and his wife, Caroline, cooked for the passengers. Now he operated an open freighter boat with no need for a cook, and his grandchildren drove the mules and served as crew.

The Irish Rose was waiting for its turn to enter Lock Fifteen where Captain Donovan would man the tiller. Cory waved to Grandpa and her cousins Ethan and Paddy. They had red hair and blue eyes. Ethan was fifteen, tall and wiry, while Paddy, two years younger, still had enough baby fat to make him look stocky.

The pilot, who had navigated the Irish Rose through the locks, tossed a rope to Paddy. He tied it around the snubbing post in the ground to stop the boat in the lock chamber. The pilot jumped off and collected his fee from Captain Donovan. He ushered everyone aboard when two men closed the back gates of the lock. “Hurry up, girl!”

Cory handed her basket to Grandpa, who took her arm and hauled her to the top of the stern cabin. Tyler gave her a boost on her backside. She glared at him when he joined her on the cabin roof.

Three separate cabins were connected by a catwalk along the roofs. The stable cabin was in the center. Three mules were stored inside to replace the three tied in tandem to the towline pulling the boat. The open midship area was loaded with cargo.

Ethan climbed aboard after Tyler. “Who’s this?”

“Tyler Montgomery.” Cory made introductions while Ethan ran across the bow cabin and jumped to the other side of the lock.

“Take over the tiller, darlin’.” Captain Donovan grabbed an eight-foot long wooden pole with a metal tip called a pike. “Open the paddles.”

Ethan gripped a long metal wrench and turned a rod that ran from bottom to top on the wooden gate. It opened a small paddle door in the bottom of the gate and water rushed out. Paddy did the same on the other side.

“She’s a bit bumpy when we release the water.” The captain shoved against the stone wall to keep the boat from hitting it.

Tyler grabbed Cory as the boat dropped along with the water level.

Ethan and Paddy closed the paddles when the water in the lock reached the level in the lower canal. Ethan jumped on board, and Paddy released the line on the snubbing post. He tossed it to Ethan. Then he tossed the team’s line to Ethan, who attached it to the boat’s deadeye on the bow deck. The two men who had closed the back gates, opened the front gates by pushing on the balance beams.

“We’re ready to go down the canal,” Ethan shouted.

Paddy urged the mules to move and the boat jerked forward.

“Isn’t Cleveland up river?” Tyler asked.

“You’d think,” Cory answered. “But the Cuyahoga means crooked river. It flows south, hooks when it hits the high ground of Akron, and curls around to head north, emptying into Lake Erie.” She made a hooking motion with her hand.

The mules plodded along the well-worn towpath and pulled the boat through the canal water at a slow and steady pace. Bullfrogs and crickets serenaded them as butterflies danced to the music. “Is this as fast as the boat goes?” Tyler asked.

“They’re mules not race horses.” Cory swatted at a fly buzzing by her head.

Ethan gripped the edge of the board with his toes as he scurried along the catwalk. Captain Donovan handed Ethan the pike and took the tiller handle from Cory.

Tyler still had his hands around Cory’s waist. “You can let go of my granddaughter.” Captain Donovan looked at Cory. “Not much of a sailor, is he?”

Cory shrugged. “I told you he’s a lawyer.”

“He don’t look like a bookworm,” Ethan said. “Might be worth training him to be a boatman.”

“He might be able to earn his fare.”

“I’m a fast learner.” Tyler winked at Cory.

“You can store your things in the bow cabin. You’ll want to take off that fancy coat if you’re going to help crew the boat.”

“How do we get down on deck?” Tyler looked at the lower level covered with crates and barrels in the front and cords of wood for the paper mill in the back.

“We are on the deck. That’s the hold you’re looking at.”

“This single board is the deck?”

Cory walked along it to the stable cabin. He followed at a slower pace.

“Don’t worry about falling.” Ethan stepped aside on the stable cabin roof and allowed them to pass. “With all this cargo, you won’t have far to go. But don’t bounce and land in the canal. It’s nasty this time of year.”

“Why is it green?” Tyler asked.

“Duckweed. It’s what’s under the duckweed you have to worry about.”

Tyler stared at the green covering. Cory waited for him at the bow cabin. He planted each step before taking another toward her. “Now what?”

Cory lifted a trap door and climbed down a ladder nailed to the wall. Tyler followed her down into the tiny cabin at the front of the boat. There were wooden bunks built along one wall for sleeping and a small galley for preparing meals. “This is the crew’s cabin.” She sat down on the lower bunk and removed her gloves and shoes.

“What are you doing?” Tyler watched her remove her garters and stockings.

“You’re going to want to remove your jacket and boots. It’s easier to walk the catwalk barefoot.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before I crossed the gangplank of death?”

Cory snickered. “Once you’ve fallen a few times, you’ll get the hang of it.”

“I have no intention of falling into that cesspool you call a canal. Does it always smell so foul?”

“It’s July.” She turned her back and untied her petticoat and crinoline at her waist and wiggled out of them. “The city uses the canal as its sewer. It’s cleaner away from downtown.”

The trap door above them opened. “Stop canoodling and help on deck,” Ethan said. “There’s a shallow spot ahead.”

“What does he mean?”

Cory retied her bonnet. “You don’t know what canoodling is?”

Tyler grabbed his hat and followed her on the ladder. “I’ll canoodle you in front of the whole crew,” he threatened. “What does shallow mean?”

“The state keeps cutting money for maintaining the canal. A shallow is where silt builds up and grounds a boat. It means you can practice your balance.” They reached the deck, and she closed the trap door.

Ethan handed each of them a pike. “You two take the catwalk, and I’ll take the bow.”

Tyler frowned. “Why does he take the bow?”

“He’s going to measure the depth and tell us which way to push.” She made her way to the stable cabin. “I’ll go in front and you can follow. Do exactly what I do.”

Ethan plunged his pike into the water. “Push off on the starboard side.”

Cory flipped her pike so the metal tip was on the right side and plunged it into the water. When it hit bottom, she pushed and ran forward along the catwalk. Tyler followed her example but nearly lost his balance when the pike stuck in the mud on top of the clay bottom.

“Pull it,” Ethan ordered. “We can’t afford to stop and go back for it if you lose it.”

He yanked the pike free and ran to the bow cabin where Cory was waiting. “Now what?”

“We go back and do it again.” She motioned for him to turn around and shoved him along the catwalk.

“Slow down,” he warned. “I’m not a monkey.”

“We’ll be grounded if we slow down,” she warned. “I would think a big strong man like you would find this easy.”

“A big strong man on a little piece of wood,” he excused. “Why can’t the mules pull us through the shallows?”

“It’s hard enough for them to pull a loaded boat through deep water. If the boat becomes stuck, we’ll have to jump in and push.”

“I think we should have taken the train back to Darrow Falls.”

“We wanted to keep Edward and his men busy.”

“How do we know if they’re following us?”

“Look over at the road beyond the river.”

Tyler saw Edward and Buck on horseback. “Can they reach us?”

“Not for a few miles. Cuyahoga Street follows the river not the canal, and it swerves away from us ahead. They can’t reach us until the road to Tallmadge intersects Cuyahoga Street.”