The Mississippi Saucer

  Produced by Greg Weeks, Joel Schlosberg and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  [Transcriber's Note:This eBook was produced from _Weird Tales_, March 1951, pp. 26-36.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyrighton this publication was renewed.]

  _Something of the wonder that must have come to menseeking magic in the sky in days long vanished._

  The Mississippi Saucer

  *Heading by Jon Arfstrom*

  _By Frank Belknap Long_

  Jimmy watched the _Natchez Belle_ draw near, a shining eagerness in hisstare. He stood on the deck of the shantyboat, his toes sticking out ofhis socks, his heart knocking against his ribs. Straight down the riverthe big packet boat came, purpling the water with its shadow, itssmokestacks belching soot.

  Jimmy had a wild talent for collecting things. He knew exactly how toinfuriate the captains without sticking out his neck. Up and down theFather of Waters, from the bayous of Louisiana to the Great Sandy otherlittle shantyboat boys envied Jimmy and tried hard to imitate him.

  But Jimmy had a very special gift, a genius for pantomime. He'd waituntil there was a glimmer of red flame on the river and small objectsstood out with a startling clarity. Then he'd go into his act.

  Nothing upset the captains quite so much as Jimmy's habit of holding abig, croaking bullfrog up by its legs as the riverboats went steamingpast. It was a surefire way of reminding the captains that men and frogswere brothers under the skin. The puffed-out throat of the frog told thecaptains exactly what Jimmy thought of their cheek.

  Jimmy refrained from making faces, or sticking out his tongue at thegrinning roustabouts. It was the frog that did the trick.

  In the still dawn things came sailing Jimmy's way, hurled by captainswith a twinkle of repressed merriment dancing in eyes that were kindlierand more tolerant than Jimmy dreamed.

  Just because shantyboat folk had no right to insult the riverboats Jimmyhad collected forty empty tobacco tins, a down-at-heels shoe, a SearsRoebuck catalogue and--more rolled up newspapers than Jimmy could everread.

  Jimmy could read, of course. No matter how badly Uncle Al needed a newpair of shoes, Jimmy's education came first. So Jimmy had spent sixwinters ashore in a first-class grammar school, his books paid for outof Uncle Al's "New Orleans" money.

  Uncle Al, blowing on a vinegar jug and making sweet music, the holes inhis socks much bigger than the holes in Jimmy's socks. Uncle Al shakinghis head and saying sadly, "Some day, young fella, I ain't gonna sithere harmonizing. No siree! I'm gonna buy myself a brand new store suit,trade in this here jig jug for a big round banjo, and hie myself off tothe Mardi Gras. Ain't too old thataway to git a little fun out of life,young fella!"

  Poor old Uncle Al. The money he'd saved up for the Mardi Gras neverseemed to stretch far enough. There was enough kindness in him tostretch like a rainbow over the bayous and the river forests of sweet,rustling pine for as far as the eye could see. Enough kindness to wrapall of Jimmy's life in a glow, and the life of Jimmy's sister as well.

  Jimmy's parents had died of winter pneumonia too soon to appreciateUncle Al. But up and down the river everyone knew that Uncle Al was agreat man.

  * * * * *

  Enemies? Well, sure, all great men made enemies, didn't they?

  The Harmon brothers were downright sinful about carrying their feudingmeanness right up to the doorstep of Uncle Al, if it could be said thata man living in a shantyboat had a doorstep.

  Uncle Al made big catches and the Harmon brothers never seemed to haveany luck. So, long before Jimmy was old enough to understand howcorrosive envy could be the Harmon brothers had started feuding withUncle Al.

  "Jimmy, here comes the _Natchez Belle_! Uncle Al says for you to get hima newspaper. The newspaper you got him yesterday he couldn't readno-ways. It was soaking wet!"

  Jimmy turned to glower at his sister. Up and down the river Pigtail Annewas known as a tomboy, but she wasn't--no-ways. She was Jimmy's littlesister. That meant Jimmy was the man in the family, and wore the pants,and nothing Pigtail said or did could change that for one minute.

  "Don't yell at me!" Jimmy complained. "How can I get Captain Simmons madif you get me mad first? Have a heart, will you?"

  But Pigtail Anne refused to budge. Even when the _Natchez Belle_ loomedso close to the shantyboat that it blotted out the sky she continued tocrowd her brother, preventing him from holding up the frog and makingCaptain Simmons squirm.

  But Jimmy got the newspaper anyway. Captain Simmons had a keen insightinto tomboy psychology, and from the bridge of the _Natchez Belle_ hecould see that Pigtail was making life miserable for Jimmy.

  True--Jimmy had no respect for packet boats and deserved a goodtrouncing. But what a scrapper the lad was! Never let it be said that ina struggle between the sexes the men of the river did not stand shoulderto shoulder.

  The paper came sailing over the shining brown water like a white-belliedbuffalo cat shot from a sling.

  Pigtail grabbed it before Jimmy could give her a shove. Calmly sheunwrapped it, her chin tilted in bellicose defiance.

  As the _Natchez Belle_ dwindled around a lazy, cypress-shadowed bendPigtail Anne became a superior being, wrapped in a cosmopolitan aura. Awide-eyed little girl on a swaying deck, the great outside world rushingstraight toward her from all directions.

  Pigtail could take that world in her stride. She liked the fashion pagebest, but she was not above clicking her tongue at everything in thepaper.

  "Kidnap plot linked to airliner crash killing fifty," she read. "Red Soxblank Yanks! Congress sits today, vowing vengeance! Million dollarheiress elopes with a clerk! Court lets dog pick owner! Girl of eightkills her brother in accidental shooting!"

  "I ought to push your face right down in the mud," Jimmy muttered.

  "Don't you dare! I've a right to see what's going on in the world!"

  "You said the paper was for Uncle Al!"

  "It is--when I get finished with it."

  Jimmy started to take hold of his sister's wrist and pry the paper fromher clasp. Only started--for as Pigtail wriggled back sunlight fell on ashadowed part of the paper which drew Jimmy's gaze as sunlight drawsdew.

  _Exciting_ wasn't the word for the headline. It seemed to blaze out ofthe page at Jimmy as he stared, his chin nudging Pigtail's shoulder.

  NEW FLYING MONSTER REPORTED BLAZING GULF STATE SKIES

  Jimmy snatched the paper and backed away from Pigtail, his eyes glued tothe headline.

  * * * * *

  He was kind to his sister, however. He read the news item aloud, if anaccount so startling could be called an item. To Jimmy it seemed morelike a dazzling burst of light in the sky.

  "A New Orleans resident reported today that he saw a big bright object'roundish like a disk' flying north, against the wind. 'It was alllighted up from inside!' the observer stated. 'As far as I could tellthere were no signs of life aboard the thing. It was much bigger thanany of the flying saucers previously reported!'"

  "People keep seeing them!" Jimmy muttered, after a pause. "Nobody knowswhere they come from! Saucers flying through the sky, high up at night.In the daytime, too! Maybe we're being _watched_, Pigtail!"

  "Watched? Jimmy, what do you mean? What you talking about?"

  Jimmy stared at his sister, the paper jiggling in his clasp. "It's wayover your head, Pigtail!" he said sympathetically. "I'll prove it!What's a planet?"

  "A star in the sky, you dope!" Pigtail almost screamed. "Wait'll UncleAl hears what a meanie you are. If I wasn't your sister you wouldn'tdare grab a paper that doesn't belong to you."

  Jimmy refused to be enraged
. "A planet's not a star, Pigtail," he saidpatiently. "A star's a big ball of fire like the sun. A planet is smalland cool, like the Earth. Some of the planets may even have people onthem. Not people like us, but people all the same. Maybe we're justfrogs to them!"

  "You're crazy, Jimmy! Crazy, crazy, you hear?"

  Jimmy started to reply, then shut his mouth tight. Big waves werenothing new in the wake of steamboats, but the shantyboat wasn't justriding a swell. It was swaying and rocking like a floating barrel in thekind of blow Shantyboaters dreaded worse than the thought of dying.

  Jimmy knew that a big blow could come up fast. Straight down from thesky in gusts, from all directions, banging against the boat like adrunken roustabout, slamming doors, tearing away mooring planks.

  * *