In Which a Variety of Characters Appear
- At the front of the boat is an alms-begging black man without the use of his legs. He's got a makeshift tambourine, and he has a knack for cheering up the gruffest grumpus who might have had the misfortune of waking up on the wrong side of the bed. The narrator problematically compares him to various animals like a sheep and a Newfoundland.
- The tambourine man comes across another man who drives cattle over great distances for a living. This man asks the tambourine man what is his name is and who owns him. Yikes. (As you can probably guess, this novel was first published in 1857. That's about four years before the start of the Civil War in the United States.)
- The tambourine man is called "Black Guinea," and he spends his nights warmed by the heat of the sun trapped in the stones of the streets of St. Louis. That's fairly poetic—we already like this guy.
- Up until now, Guinea hasn't been given too many pennies, but a random sort of game has been struck up: the members of the crowd—in the name of what they think of as charity and fun—toss coins into his open mouth.
- The narrator is careful to note that we have no clue what this man feels in his heart of hearts about this type of treatment, but, as far as his outward appearance is concerned, he's got the look of happiness about him.
- Just when this "game" is really getting into high gear, a party-pooper comes along. Every party needs one, that's why we invited a former customs house officer (that's government dude who works in imports and exports) with a wooden leg to accuse Guinea of faking his injuries. He also accuses him of being a white man in blackface.
- Nobody likes this new guy. The crowd thinks he's ruined their fun—plus, they were riding high on gratuitous pat-yourself-on-the-back feels from tossing their spare change.
- This new guy starts to sway the others, though. He then goes over to the man on the ground and is about to try to reveal what he thinks is a trick (by tearing his clothes off maybe?), when the crowd stops him. Whoa. A crowd that doesn't want to turn into a rabid, murderous mob? Go fig.
- Anyway, the crowd shoos him away because nobody likes stingy, mean jerkiness.
- Then the crowd turns to Guinea. They don't trust him much now, either. They do the, um, logical thing and ask if he has any documentation proving that he is in fact unable to walk.
- Ten cent bet what Guinea's answer is? Yep: it's a big ol' goose egg. Nada. No.
- An Episcopal clergyman asks if there's anyone who can vouch for Guinea at the very least.
- There is. Guinea launches into a litany of randos who can offer themselves as character witnesses. Weirdly, they're solely identified by their outfits or items they may be holding.
- The clergyman runs off to find one or more of these potentially helpful folks, but Black Guinea isn't out of hot water yet. Accusations of a wild goose chase abound while the man with a wooden leg reiterates his suspicions.
- Eventually, the man with the wooden leg gets into a verbal altercation with a Methodist minister. Tension mounts. Violence is threatened. The crowd eggs the Methodist minister on. Things are tricky, but it doesn't come to blows. Phew.
- Instead, the man with a wooden leg leaves with a few parting shots about how these people are all fools.
- The Methodist minister takes this opportunity to bring the pulpit to the proverbial soapbox, and he waxes on about the virtue of faith in one's fellow man. The crowd is spellbound.
- Guinea ventures a quick check-in—You guys agree I'm legit then, yes? All Good?
- Crowd: Nah, brah.
- Guinea: Et tu, Methodist minister? Who promptly scorns him.
- Then, out of the crowd, a dude singled out as the "country merchant" gives a tour de force: he straight up walks up and tells Guinea that he alone believes in him. People are not happy.
- The country merchant gives Guinea a half dollar. In doing so, he drops his business card on the ground. Guinea gratefully accepts the coin, and the business card is covered by his stump.
- The crowd is unhappier still. They say mean things; they demand Guinea go find his own witness.
- Guinea's response is basically: Umm, hello? Can't just head out and find them on my own, remember? Thanks so much. Bye.
- The crowd is then shooed away by a steward reminding everyone to get their tickets for the ship or get gone.