Life on the Mississippi

BY

MARK TWAIN

AUTHOR OF “THE INNOCENTS ABROAD,” “ROUGHING IT,” “THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER,” ETC.

WITH MORE THAN 300 ILLUSTRATIONS

Mississippi Steamboat of Fifty Years Ago.

[Sold by Subscription only.]

NEW YORK CHARLES L. WEBSTER AND COMPANY iSSS

9'zS&

y Z') y cf?'

Copyright, ie.74 and 1875,

By H. O. Houghton and Company.

Copyright, 1883,

By Samuel L. Clemens.

All rights reserved.

S. L. CLEMENS. ) £ Mark Twain. / ^

[trade mark.}

University Press r John Wilson and Son, Cambridge.

THE “BODY OF THE NATION.1

BUT the basin of the Mississippi is the Body of the Nation. AH the other parts are but members, important in themselves, yet more important in their relations to this. Exclusive of the Lake basin and of 300,000 square miles in Texas and New Mexico, which in many aspects form a part of it, this basin contains about 1,250,000 square miles. In extent it is the second great valley of the world, being exceeded only by that of the Amazon. The valley of the frozen Obi approaches it in extent; that of the La Plata comes next in space, and probably in habitable capacity, having about of its area; then comes that of the Yenisei, with about \; the Lena, Amoor, Hoang-ho, Yang-tse-kiang, and Nile, f-; the Ganges, less than H the Indus, less than the Euphrates, ; the Rhine, ^g-. It exceeds in extent the whole of Europe, exclusive of Russia, Norway, and Sweden. It would contain Austria four times\ Germany or Spam five times, France six times, the British Islands or Italy ten times. Conceptions formed from the river-basins of Western Europe are rudely shocked when we consider the extent of the valley of the Mississippi; nor are those formed from the sterile basins of the great rivers of Siberia, the lofty plateaus of Central Asia, or the mighty sweep of the swampy Amazon more adequate. Latitude, elevation, and rainfall all combine to render every part of the Mississippi Valley capable of supporting a dense population. Asa dwelling-place for civilized man it is by far the first upon our globe.Editor’s Table, Harper's Magazine, February, 1863.


CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

The Mississippi is Well worth Reading about. — It is Remarkable. —Instead of Widening towards its Mouth, it grows Narrower. — It Empties four hundred and six million Tons of Mud. — It was First Seen in 1542.

— It is Older than some Pages in European History. —De Soto has the Pull. — Older than the Atlantic Coast. — Some Half-breeds chip

in.— La Salle Thinks he will Take a Hand.....  21

CHAPTER II.

La Salle again Appears, and so does a Cat-fish. — Buffaloes also. —

Some Indian Paintings are Seen on the Rocks. — “The Father of Waters ” does not Flow into the Pacific. — More History and Indians.

— Some Curious Performances—not Early English. — Natchez, or

the Site of it, is Approached............... 31

CHAPTER III.

A little History. — Early Commerce. — Coal Fleets and Timber Rafts. —

We.start on a Voyage. — I seek Information. — Some Music.— The Trouble begins. — Tall Talk.—-The Child of Calamity. — Ground and lofty Tumbling. — The Wash-up.—Business and Statistics.— Mysterious Band. — Thunder and Lightning. — The Captain speaks.

— Allbright weeps. — The Mystery settled. — Chaff. — I am Discovered. — Some Art-work proposed. — I give an Account of Myself. —

Released........ 40

CHAPTER IV.

The Boys’ Ambition. — Village Scenes. — Steamboat Pictures. — A Heavy Swell. — A Runaway..............62

CHAPTER V.

A Traveller. — A Lively Talker. — A Wild-cat Victim ......    70

CONTENTS.

8

CHAPTER VI.

Besieging the Pilot. — Taken along. — Spoiling a Nap. — Fishing for a

Plantation. — “ Points on the River. — A Gorgeous Pilot-house . .    79

CHAPTER VII.

River Inspectors. — CotLxiwoods and Plum Point. — Hat-Island Crossing. — Touch and Go. — It is a Go. — A Lightning Pilot ....    91

CHAPTER VIII.

A Heavy-loaded Big Gun. — Sharp Sights in Darkness.— Abandoned to his Fate. — Scraping the Banks. — Learn him or Kill him ....    102

CHAPTER IX.

Shake the Reef. — Reason Dethroned. — The Face of the Water. —

A Bewitching Scene. — Romance and Beauty........112

CHAPTER X.

Putting on Airs. — Taken down a bit. — Learn it as it is. — The River Rising.......................122

CHAPTER XI.

In the Tract Business.— Effects of the Rise. — Plantations gone. — A Measureless Sea. — A Somnambulist Pilot. — Supernatural Piloting.

— Nobody there. — All Saved -.............132

CHAPTER XII.

Low Water.—Yawl sounding. — Buoys and Lanterns. — Cubs and Soundings. — The Boat Sunk. — Seeking the Wrecked.....143

CHAPTER XIII.

A Pilot’s Memory. — Wages soaring. — A Universal Grasp. — Skill and Nerve. — Testing a Cub.” — “Back her for Life.” — A Good Lesson ........................152

CHAPTER XIV.

Pilots and Captains. — Iligh-prieed Pilots. — Pilots in Demand.—A Whistler. — A cheap Trade. — Two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar Speed . 166

CONTENTS.

9

CHAPTER XV.

New Pilots undermining the Pilots’ Association. — Crutches and Wages.

— Putting on Airs. — The Captains Weaken. — The Association Laughs. — The Secret Sign. — An Admirable System.—Rough on Outsiders. — A Tight Monopoly.—No Loophole. — The Railroads

and the War....................176

CHAPTER XVI.

All Aboard. — A Glorious Start. — Loaded to Win. —Bands and Bugles.

— Boats and Boats. — Racers and Racing..........193

CHAPTER XVII.

Cut-offs. — Ditching and Shooting. — Mississippi Changes. — A Wild Night. — Swearing and Guessing. — Stephen in Debt. — He Confuses his Creditors. — He makes a New Deal. — Will Pay them Alphabetically  ...................205

CHAPTER XVIII.

Sharp Schooling. — Shadows. — I am Inspected. —Where did you get them Shoes 1 — Pull her Down. — I want to kill Brown. — I try to run her.—lam Complimented...............217

CHAPTER XIX.

A Question of Veracity.—A Little Unpleasantness.—I have an Audience with the Captain.— Mr. Brown Retires.........227

CHAPTER XX.

I become a Passenger. — We hear the News. —A Thunderous Crash. —

They Stand to their Posts. — In the Blazing Sun. — A Grewsome Spectacle.—His Hour has Struck  ........  2-36

CHAPTER XXI.

I get my License. — The War Begins. — I become a    Jack-of-all-trades    .    216

CHAPTER XXII.

I try the Alias Business. —Region of Goatees.-—Boots begin to Appear.—

The River Man is Missing. — The Young Man is Discouraged. — Specimen Water. — A Eine Qualit}' of Smoke. — A Supreme Mistake.

— We Inspect the Town. — Desolation Way-traffic. — A    Wood-yard    .    247

CONTENTS.

10

CHAPTER XXIII.

Old French Settlements. — We start for Memphis. — Young Ladies and Russia-leather Bags..................258

CHAPTER XXIV.

I receive some Information. — Alligator Boats. — Alligator Talk. — She was a Rattler to go. — I am Found Out...... 204

CHAPTER XXV.

The Devil’s Oven and Table. — A Bombshell falls. — No Whitewash.— Thirty Years on the River. — Mississippi Uniforms.—Accidents and Casualties’!’—Two hundred Wrecks. — A Loss to Literature. — Sunday-Schools and Brick Masons................273

CHAPTER XXVI.

War Talk. — I Tilt over Backwards. — Fifteen Shot-holes. — A Plain Story. — Wars and Feuds. — Darnell versus Watson. — A Gang and a Woodpile. —Western Grammar. — River Changes. — New Madrid.

— Floods and Falls..................281

CHAPTER XXVII.

Tourists and their Note-books. — Captain Hall. — Mrs. Trollope’s Emotions. — Hon. Charles Augustus Murray’s Sentiment. — Captain Marryat’s Sensations. — Alexander Mackay’s Feelings. — Mr. Parlc-. man Reports.....................292

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Swinging down the River, -r- Named for Me. —Plum Point again.— Lights and Snag Boats. —Infinite Changes. — A Lawless River. — Changes and Jetties. — Uncle Mumford Testifies. — Pegging the River. — What the Government does. — The Commission Men and Theories. “Had them Bad.” — Jews and Prices.......298

CHAPTER XXIX.

Murel’s Gang. —A Consummate Villain. —Getting Rid of Witnesses. — Stewart turns Traitor. — I Start a Rebellion. — I get a New Suit of Clothes.— We Cover our Tracks. — Pluck and Capacity. — A Good Samaritan City. — The Old and the New..........311

CHAPTER XXX.

A Melancholy Picture. — On the Move. — River Gossip. — She Went By a-Sparklin’. — Amenities of Life. — A World of Misinformation.— Eloquence of Silence. — Striking a Snag. — Photographically Exact.

— Plank Side-walks......... 325

CONTENTS.

11

CHAPTER XXXI.

Mutinous Language. — The Dead-house. — Cast-iron German and Flexible English. — A Dying Man's Confession. — I am Bound and Gagged. — I get Myself Free. — I Begin my Search. — The Man with one Thumb. — Red Paint and White Paper. — He Dropped on his Knees. — Fright and Gratitude. — I Fled through the Woods. — A Grisly Spectacle. — Shout, Man, Shout. — A look of Surprise and Tri

umph.— The Muffled Gurgle of a Mocking Laugh. — How strangely Things happen. — The Hidden Money...........337

CHAPTER XXXII.

Ritter’s Narrative. — A Question of Money. — Napoleon. — Somebody is Serious. — Where the Prettiest Girl used to Live.....  ..    357

CHAPTER XXXIII.

A Question of Division. — A Place where there was no License. — The Calhoun Land Company. — A Cotton-planter’s Estimate. — Halifax and Watermelons. — Jewelled-up Bar-keepers    . .......361

CHAPTER XXXIV.

An Austere Man. — A Mosquito Policy. —Facts dressed in Tights. —A

swelled Left Ear...............  372

CHAPTER XXXV.

Signs and Scars. — Cannon-tliunder Rages. — Cave-dwellers, — A Continual Sunday. — A ton of Iron and no Glass. — The Ardent is Saved.

— Mule Meat — A National Cemetery. — A Dog and a Shell. — Railroads and Wealth. — Wharfage Economy. — Vicksburg versus The

“ Gold Dust.” — A Narrative in Anticipation ........375

CHAPTER XXXVI.

The Professor Spins a Yarn. — An Enthusiast in Cattle. — He makes a Proposition. — Loading Beeves at Acapulco. — He was n’t Raised to it.

— He is Roped In. — His Dull Eyes Lit Up. — Four Aces, you Ass ! —

He does n’t Care for the Gores..............387

CHAPTER XXXVII.

A Terrible Disaster. — The “ Gold Dust” explodes her Boilers. — The End of a Good Man.......   397

CONTENTS.

12

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

Mr. Dickens has a Word. — Best Dwellings and their Furniture. —Albums and Music. — Pantelettes and Conch-shells. — Sugar-candy Rabbits and Photographs.—Horse-hair Sofas and Snuffers. — Rag Carpets and Bridal Chambers.................399

CHAPTER XXXIX.

Rowdies and Beauty. — Ice as Jewelry. — Ice Manufacture. — More Statistics. — Some Drummers. — Oleomargarine versus Butter. — Olive Oil versus Cotton Seed. — The Answer was not Caught. — A Terrific Episode. — A Sulphurous Canopy. — The Demons of War. — The Terrible Gauntlet...................408

CHAPTER XL.

In Flowers, like a Bride. — A White-washed Castle. — A Southern Prospectus. — Pretty Pictures. — An Alligator’s Meal.......410

CHAPTER XLI.

The Approaches to New Orleans. — A Stirring Street. — Sanitary Improvements. — Journalistic Achievements. — Cisterns and Wells . . 422

CHAPTER XLII.

Beautiful Grave-yards. — Chameleons and Panaceas. — Inhumation and • Infection. — Mortality and Epidemics. — The Cost of Funerals . . 430

CHAPTER XLIII.

I meet an Acquaintance. — Coffins and Swell Houses. — Mrs. O’Flaherty goes One Better. — Epidemics and Embamming. — Six hundred for a Good Case. — Joyful High Spirits.............486

CHAPTER XLIV.

French and Spanish Parts of the City. — Mr. Cable and the Ancient Quarter. — Cabbages and Bouquets. — Cows and Children. — The Shell Road. — The West End. — A Good Square Meal. — The Pompano.— The Broom-Brigade. — Historical Painting.—.Southern Speech. — Lagniappe............  442

CHAPTER XLV.

“ Wa w ” Talk. — Cock-Fighting. — Too Much to Bear. —Fine Writing.

— Mule Racing.....    454

CONTENTS.

13

CHAPTER XLVI.

Mardi-Gras. — The Mystic Crewe. — Rex and Relics. — Sir Walter Scott.

— A World Set Back. — Titles and Decorations. — A Change . . 465

CHAPTER XLVII.

Uncle Remus. — The Children Disappointed. — We Read Aloud. — Mr.

Cable and Jean ah Poquelin. — Involuntary Trespass. — The Gilded Age. — An Impossible Combination. — The Owner Materializes — and Protests................  471

CHAPTER XLVIII.

Tight Curls and Springy Steps. — Steam-plows. — “ No. I.” Sugar. — A Erankenstein Laugh. — Spiritual Postage. — A Place where there are no Butchers or Plumbers.—Idiotic Spasms ......... 475

CHAPTER XLIX.

Pilot-Farmers. —Working on Shares. — Consequences. — Men who Stick to their Posts. — He saw what he would do. — A Day after the Fair . 486

CHAPTER L.

A Patriarch. — Leaves from a Diary. — A Tongue-stopper. — The Ancient Mariner. — Pilloried in Print. — Petrified Truth......493

CHAPTER LI. .

A Fresh “ Cub ” at the Wheel. — A Valley Storm. — Some Remarks on Construction. — Sock and Buskin.'—The Man who never played Hamlet. — I got Thirsty. — Sunday Statistics ........ 500

CHAPTER LII.

I Collar an Idea. —A Graduate of Harvard. — A Penitent Thief. — His Story in the Pulpit. — Something Symmetrical. — A Literary Artist.

— A Model Epistle. — Pumps again Working. — The “ Nub ” of the Note................ 509

CHAPTER Lin.

A Masterly Retreat. — A Town at Rest. — Boyhood’s Pranks. — Friends of my Youth. — The Refuge for Imbeciles.—I am Presented with my Measure....... 523

CHAPTER LIV.

A Special Judgment. — Celestial Interest. — A Night of Agony. — Another Bad Attack. — I become Convalescent.—I address a Sunday-school. — A Model Boy................5-30

CONTENTS.

14

CHAPTER LV.

A second Generation. — A hundred thousand Tons of Saddles. — A Dark and Dreadful Secret. — A Large Family. — A Golden-haired Darling.

— The Mysterious Cross. — My Idol is Broken. — A Bad Season of Chills and Fever. — An Interesting Cave..........540

CHAPTER LVI.

Perverted History.— A Guilty Conscience. — A Supposititious Case.— A Habit to be Cultivated. — I Drop my Burden. — Difference in Time . 548

CHAPTER LVII.

A Model Town. — A Town that Comes up to Blow in the Summer. — The Scare-crow Dean. — Spouting Smoke and Flame. — An Atmosphere that tastes good. — The Sunset Land............555

CHAPTER LVIII.

An Independent Race. — Twenty-four-hour Towns.—Enchanting Scenery. — The JJome of the Plow. — Black Hawk. — Fluctuating Securities.— A Contrast. — Electric Lights..........504

CHAPTER LIX.

Indian Traditions and Rattlesnakes. — A Three-ton Word.—Chimney Rock. —The Panorama Man. —A Good Jump. — The Undying Head.

— Peboan and Seegwun................    573

CHAPTER LX.

The Head of Navigation. — From Roses to Snow. — Climatic Vaccination. — A Long Ride. — Bones of Poverty. — The Pioneer of Civilization. — Jug of Empire. — Siamese Twins. — The Sugar-busli. — He Wins his Bride. — The Mystery about the Blanket. — A City that is always a Novelty. — Home again.............582

APPENDIX.

A  ...............  595

B ...........................605

C................   608

D................ 612

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

1.    The “ Baton Rouge ”...... Frontispiece

2.    Mississippi Steamboat    of Fifty Years Ago............Titlepage

3.    View on the River................. 21

4.    A High-water Sketch.......................22

5.    La Salle Canoeing........................24

6.    De Soto Sees It .  ..............  25

7.    Classifying their Offspring..............  27

8.    Burial of De Soto............ 28

9.    Canadian Indians...........    29

10.    Crossing the Lakes . . .'.....................32

11.    Anchored in the Stream ....'...........  33

12.    Hospitably Received  ..............  34

13.    La Salle on the Ice  ..................36

14.    Consecrating the Robbery  .......... 37

15.    The Temple Wall  .................  38

16.    Early Navigation       40

17.    A Lumber Raft...................  42

18.    I Swum along the Raft  ......................43

19.    He Jumped up in the Air....... 45.

20.    Went around in a Circle   ........ 46

.21.    He Knocked them Sprawling .  ........ 48

22.    An Old-fashioned Breakdown  ..............  49

23.    The Mysterious Barrel  ....... 51

24.    Soon there was. a Regular Storm..................53

:25.    The Lightning Killed Two Men .  .................55

26. Grabbed the Little Child.........*...........55

27.    Ed got up Mad  .............. 57

'28.    Who are you ? .  ........................58

<29.    Charles William Allbright, Sir  ...... 60

30.    Overboard  ................ .61

31.    Our Permanent Ambition......................62

32.    Water-Street Clerks  ..................63

33.    All Go Hurrying to the Wharf....................64

34.    The Town Drunkard Asleep Once    More......  66

<35.    A Shining Hero  .....   68

36.    Day Dreams.....  69

37.    Bored with Travelling  ............ 71

38.    Tell Me where it is — I’ll fetch    it ...  .............73

39.    Sublime in Profanity  ...................75

40.    His Tears Dripped upon the. Lantern ................77

41.    The Chalk Pipe.....•....................78

42.    He Easily Borrowed Six Dollars...................80

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

16

43.    Besieging the Pilot........................81

44.    This is Nine-mile Point  ...... 82

45.    Come 1 torn out  .......................83

46. A Minute Later..... ....     84

47.    You’re a Smart One......................86

48.    Get a Memorandum Book    . . ............ 87

49.    A Sumptuous Temple.......................89

50. Kiver Inspectors......... ............... . 92

51.    A Tangled Knot.............  .94

52.    Insensibly they Drew Together...................96

53.    Stand By, now !.........................98

54.    Over She Goes !........ 99

55.    Shoulder to Shoulder.......... 101

56.    Loading and Eiring  ..... 102

57.    Changing Watch.....................  105

58.    All Well but Me........... 107

59.    Learning the River......... 109

60.    Learn Me or Kill Me............. Ill

61.    That’s a Reef.........................113

62.    Set Her Back.........................114

63.    Mr. Bixby Stepped into View....................117

64.    I Stood Like One Bewitched . .      120

65.    Sunset Views..........................121

66. Wearing a Toothpick ...........'...........123

67. Do You see that Stump?................,.....124

68.    The Orator of the Scow     ..................127

69.    Drifting Logs.........................129

70.    Gambling down Below......................131

71.    Tract Distributing...................  133

72.    Yellow-faced Miserables.....................135

73.    On a Shoreless Sea.......................137

74.    The Phantom Assumed the    Wheel..... 139

75.    Nobody there...... 140

76.    Dark Piloting..........  142

77. Sounding.....■......................143

78.    Oh, how Awful !........................'147

79.    Hauled Aboard.........................150

80.    On Soundings.........................  151

81. A City Street.....^..................’    .    . 153

82.    Let a Leadsman cry, “ Half ’twain ! ”................155

83.    Oh, I Knew Him !........................156

84:    So Pull of Laugh '.      157

85.    Scared to Death  ......................  160

86.    Where is Mr. Bixby ?...............  161

87.    If You Love Me, Back Her !....................164

88.    Back her, back her ! .  ............... 165

89.    Very Brief Authority......................167

90.    Treated with Marked Deference..................168

91. You Take My Boat.......  .•.............. . 170

92.    No Poolin’!.............. 171

93. Went to Whistling...................... • 173

94.    Burst into a Pury...........  177

95. Resurrected Pilots...................... . 179

96.    The Captain Stormed  ................  182

97.    The Sign of Membership......... 183

98. Posting His Report...................... 186

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

17

99.    Added to the Fold.......................188

100.    A Justifiable Advance........... 190

101.    Tow-boat Supremacy-       192

102.    Steamboat Time  .....    195

103.    Drowst Engineers .  ......  197

104. Brass Bands Bray........  .      .199

105.    The Parting Chorus........................201

106.    Race of the Lee and the Natchez.................204

107.    Dangerous Ditching.......................206

108. A Scientist.......................•    •    •    207

109.    Deluged and Careened  ..................209

110.    The Spectre Steamer............ 211

111.    My, What'a Race I’ve Had!......    213

112. Beaming Benignantly.....................  .    215

113. The Debt-Payer......................    .    .    216

114. Pilot Brown...... ,....'..........  .    218

115.    Are You Horace Bigsby’s Cub ?....... 219

116.    Hold up Your Foot................ 220

117. Take That Ice-Pitcher....................'. . 221

118.    Pull Her Down  ......  222

119.    I Killed Brown Every Night.........  224

120.    Hurled Me Across the House...................225

121.    Killing Brown.......... 220

122.    I Hit Brown a Good Honest Blow.................229

123.    The Racket Had brought Everybody to the Deck............231

124.    So You have been Fighting !....................232

125.    An Emancipated Slave........  234

126. Music and Games.....................  .    .    235

127.    Henry and I sat Chatting . . . . ‘................237

128.    Emptying the Wood-flat .  ...................238

129. The Explosion — A Startleb Barber.........:.......239

130.    Ealer Saves His Flute......................240

131.    The Fire Drove the Axemen Away.................242

132.    The Hospital ,Ward  ...................244

133.    The Land of full Goatees........ 248

134.    Station Loafers.........................249

135.    Under an Alias........................250

136.    Do You Drink this Slush?....................251

137.    Sound-asleep Steamboats.....................254

138.    Dead past Resurrection...........    255

139.    The Wood-yard Man......................257

140.    Waiting for a Trip.......................259

141.    The Electric Light.......................260

142.    A Landing..........................261

143.    A Close Inspection . .  ....................262

144.    Empty Wharves : Wharf Hands “ Full ”...............263

145.    Showing the Bells.......................265

146.    An Alligator Boat.......................266

147.    Alligator Pilots.......................267

148.    The Sacred Bird . .  .....................269

149.    Counting the  .................  270    .

150.    Here, You Take Her......................272

151.    Grand Tower.........................2/3

152.    A Dairy Farm.........................275

153.    Threw the Preacher Overboard..................277

154.    Illinois Ground........................279

2

■18    LIST    OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

,155.    His Maiden Battle  ..................281

156.    Mighty Warm Times........................282

157.    Where did You See that Fight?..................284

158.    Darnell vs. Watson.......................285

159.    They Kept on Shooting.............  287    '

160.    Island No. 10..........................289

161.    Flood on the River........... 290

162.    Inundation Scenes................. 291

163. A Dismal Witness......'...... 293

164.    The Lonely River........................297

165. The Steamer “ Mark Twain ”..........;........298

166.    A Government Lamp.......................299

167.    Snags............................800

168.    . Running in a Fog........................301

169.    Uncle Mumford........................305

170.    Talking over the Situation...........    308

171.    The Tow...........................310

172.    A Soul-moving Villain......................312

173.    Selling the Negro............ 313

174.    Concealed in the Brake........ 314

175.    A Man came in Sight  ..............  316

176.    I Shot Him through the Head.......   317

177.    Another Victim........................319

178. Pleasantly Situated......;................320

179.    Memphis — A Landing Stage....................322

180.    Natives at Dinner.......................324

181.    A Light-keeper  ........... 325

182.    Negro Travellers...............  327

183.    Any Boat gone up?.......................328

184.    A World of Misinformation......... 330

185.    A Fatal Blow.........................332

186.    Elaborate Style.......... 333

187.    Napoleon in 1871 ........................ 337

188.    The Man’s Eyes opened slowly  .............340

189.    They rummaged the Cabin . .  .................342

190.    On the Right Track............. 345

191.    Thumb-Prints...............  346

192.    He dropped on his Knees....... 347

193.    The Tragedy............. 349

194.    In the Morgue............... 350

195.    I sat down by him.......................353

196.    The Shadow of Doom...................  356

197.    We began to cool off......................358

198.    Ain’t that so, Thompson?.....................359

199.. He is Happy where He is  ...........J    .    .    . 360

200.    Warmed up into a Quarrel....................361

201.    Napoleon as it is.............. 363

202.    Caving Banks.........................365

203.    The Commission Dealer......................367

204. The Israelite................ ........•. 368

205.    The Barkeeper ................. 369

206.    A Plain Gill......... 370

207.    A “ Watermillion ”......... 371

208.    Mosquitoes............. 372

209.    A Bad Ear  ...........  373

210. Fanning Himself........................    374

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

19

211. Vicksburg .  ...... .

212. The . Biter was Undisturbed .

213. The Cave Dwellers .. ..    .    .

214. Bringing the Children . . .

215. Wait and Make Certain . ..

216. Mule Meat . . . . ....

217.    Native Wild-woods    .    .    .    .

218.    My Promenade . .    .    .    .    .

219. A Short Stout Bag ... .

220. The Door was A-crack . . .

221. Five Hundred Better . . .

222. Been Laying for you Duffers

223. A Winning Hand . ... .

224. An Explosion......

225. An Interior  ......

226.    Cleansing Themselves    .    .    .

227.    Soap and Brushes .    .    .    .    .

228. Natchez...... .    .

229. Drummers........

230. Smell Them, Taste Them . .

231. Oil and Oleo ......

232. Columbia Female Institute .

233. The Graceful Palmetto . .

234. High Water .......

235. The Wharves......

236. Canal Street ......

237.    West End ... . .    .    ..    .

238. The Cemetery ......

239.    Immortelles . .......    .    .

240. Chameleons .  ......

241. Belics...........

242.    Funeral Wreaths . .    .    .    .

243. He Chuckled ......

244.    Why, Just Look at it!    .    .    .

245. Ambition....... .

246. An Explanation.....

247. The St. Charles Hotel . .

248.    The Shell Bo ad    .    .    .    .    .

249. Spanish Fort......

250. The Broom Brigade ....

251.    “ Whah You was ? ” .    .    .    .

252.    For Lagnlappe . . .    .

253.    Lagniappe .    .    .    .    .    .

254. “Waw” Talk ......

255.    Cock-pit .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .

256.    Guests . .-    .    .    .    .    .    .    .-

257.    Absence of Harmony    .    .    .

258. Collision . . ......

259.    Mardi-Gras .- . .■ .    .

260. Chivalry ........

261. Uncle Bemus  ......

262. We Bead Aloud.....

263. A Biver Landing.....

264. The Captain.......

265. Pilot Town.......

266. Smoke and Gossip.....

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

20

267. The Interview.......  .;....    484

268.    Boat-teavellers................... 485

269.    Over the Breastboard......................488

270.    Thornburgh’s Cub.........................490

271.    He Clung to a Cotton-bale......... 491

272.    A Chill Tell There  .............  495

273.    Sellers’s Monument.......................498

274.    The Night Approach.......................499

275.    I am Anxious About the Time...................501

276.    Stage-struck..............    504

277.    Look here, Have You got that Drink yet? .    .  ...........506

278.    Tools of the Trade............... 508

279.    "Williams Plies His Trade..............  511

280.    He Pulled some Leather............. 512

281.    The Crisis...........................513

282.    Mission Work.........................516

283.    Williams............................ 519

284.    The Days of Long Ago.......................525

285.    A Practical Joke . .  .....................528

286.    Fools for St. Louis.............. 529

287.    I sat up in Bed Quaking.........    531

288.    All Right, Dutchy — Go Ahead............. 534

289.    We all Flew Home...................  536

290.    Random Rubbish........................539

291.    The Consecrated Knife  .....................543

292.    A Cheap and Pitiful Ruin...... 545

293.    A Bad Case of Shakes.....................  546

294. Shaken Down...............*.....  547

295.    I Tamper with My Conscience...................550

296.    My Burden is Lifted.......................553

297.    Bad Dreams..........................554

298.    Henry Clay Dean................ 557

399.    The House Began to Break    into Applause..............559

300.    A Former Resident.......................562

301.    An Independent Race......................564

302.    The Man With a Trade-mark...................567

303.    Majestic Bluffs.................  569

304.    “ Nuth’n,” says Smith........ 670

305.    Steamer at Night........................672

306.    Queen’s Bluff  ....................573

307.    Chimney Rock.........................575

308.    The Maiden’s Rock...... 576

309.    The Lecturer................. 578

810.    St. Paul  ..........................582

311.    An Early Postmaster......................585

312.    The First Arrival........................587

SIS.    Minneapolis and the Falls of St. Anthony  .........588

314.    The Mixture...................  591

315.    An Arkansas River Post Office..................593

316.    Indian Ornaments........................624

LIFE ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

CHAPTER I.

THE RIVER AND ITS HISTORY.

THE Mississippi is well worth reading about. It is not a commonplace river, but on the contrary is in all ways remarkable. Considering the Missouri its main branch, it is the longest river in the world — four thousand three hundred


miles. It seems safe to say that it is also the crookedest river in the world, since in one part of its journey it uses up one thousand three hundred miles to cover the same ground that the crow would fly over in six hundred and seventy-five. It discharges three times as much water as    the    St.    Lawrence,

twenty-five times as much as the Rhine, and three    hundred

22    A VERY WET RIVER.

and thirty-eight times as much as the Thames. No other river has so vast a drainage-basin: it draws its water supply from twenty-eight States and Territories ; from Delaware, on the Atlantic seaboard, and from all the country between that and Idaho on the Pacific slope — a spread of forty-five degrees of longitude. The Mississippi receives and carries to the Gulf water from fifty-four subordinate rivers that are navigable by steamboats, and from some hundreds that are navigable by flats and keels. The area of its drainage-basin is as great as the combined areas of England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland, France, Spain, Portugal, Germany, Austria, Italy, and Turkey; and almost all this wide region is fertile; the Mississippi valley, proper, is exceptionally so.

ward its mouth, it grows

narrower; grows narrower and deeper. From the junction of the Ohio to a point half way down to the sea, the width averages a mile in high water: thence to the sea the width steadily diminishes, until, at the “ Passes,” above the mouth,

MUCH MUD.    23

it is but little over half a mile. At the junction of the Ohio the Mississippi’s depth is eighty-seven feet; the depth increases gradually, reaching one hundred and twenty-nine just above the mouth.

The difference in rise and fall is also remarkable — not in the upper, but in the lower river. The rise is tolerably uniform down to Natchez (three hundred and sixty miles above the mouth) — about fifty feet. But at Bayou La Fourclie the river rises only twenty-four feet; at New Orleans only fifteen, and just above the mouth only two and one half.

An article in the New Orleans “ Times-Democrat,” based upon reports of able engineers, states that the river annually empties four hundred and six million tons of mud into the Gulf of Mexico •—which brings to mind Captain Marryat’s rude name for the Mississippi — “the Great Sewer.” This mud, solidified, would make a mass a mile square and two hundred and forty-one feet high.

The mud deposit gradually extends the land — but only gradually ; it has extended it not quite a third of a mile in the two hundred years which have elapsed since the river took its place, in history. The belief of the scientific people is, that the mouth used to be at Baton Rouge, where the hills cease, and that the two hundred miles of land between there and the Gulf was built by the river. This gives us the age of that piece of country, without any trouble at all — one hundred and twenty thousand years. Yet it is much the youthfulest batch of country that lies around there anywhere.

The Mississippi is remarkable in still another way — its disposition to make prodigious jumps by cutting through narrow necks of land, and thus straightening and shortening itself. More than once it has shortened itself thirty miles at a single jump ! These cut-offs have had curious effects : they have thrown several river towns out into the rural districts, and built up sand bars and forests in front of them.

24    CUT-OFFS.

The town of Delta used to be three miles below Vicksburg: a recent cut-off has radically changed the position, and Delta is now two miles above Vicksburg.

Both of these river towns have been retired to the country by that cut-off. A cut-off plays havoc with boundary lines and jurisdictions : for instance, a man is living in the State of Mississippi to-day, a cut-off occurs to-night, and to-morrow the man finds himself and his land over on the other side of the river, within the boundaries and subject to the laws of the State of Louisiana! Such a thing, happening in the upper river in the old times, could have transferred a slave from Missouri to Illinois and made a free man of him.

The Mississippi does not alter its locality by cut-offs alone : it is always changing its habitat bodily — is always moving

bodily sidewise. At Hard Times,

La., the river is two miles west of the region it used to occupy. As a result, the original site of that settlement is not now in Louisiana at all, but on the other side of the

“HISTORICAL HISTORY.”    25

river, in the State of Mississippi. Nearly the whole of that one thousand three hundred miles of old Mississippi River which La Salle floated down in his canoes, two hundred years ago, is good solid dry ground noiv. The river lies to the right of it, in places, and to the left of it in other places.

Although the Mississippi’s mud builds land but slowly, down at the mouth, where the Gulf’s billows interfere with its work, it builds fast enough in better protected regions higher up: for instance, Prophet’s Island contained one thousand five hundred acres of land thirty years ago ; since then the river has added seven hundred acres to it.

But enough of these examples of the mighty stream’s eccentricities for the present—I will give a few more of them further along in the book.

Let us drop the Mississippi’s physical history, and say a word about its historical history — so to speak. We can

glance briefly at its

flushest and widest-awake epoch in a good many succeed-

26    DATES AND DATA.

ing chapters; and then talk about its comparatively tranquil present epoch in what shall be left of the book.

The world and the books are so accustomed to use, and over-use, the word “ new ” in connection with our country, that we early get and permanently retain the impression that there is nothing old about it. We do of course know that there are several comparatively old dates in American history, but the mere figures convey to our minds no just idea, no distinct realization, of the stretch of time which they represent. To say that De Soto, the first white man who ever saw the Mississippi River, saw it in 1542, is a remark which states a fact without interpreting it: it is something like giving the dimensions of a sunset by astronomical measurements, and cataloguing the colors by their scientific names; — as a result, you get the bald fact of the sunset, but you don’t see the sunset. It would have been better to paint a picture of it.

The date 1542, standing by itself, means little or nothing to us; but when one groups a few neighboring historical dates and facts around it, he adds perspective and color, and then realizes that this is one of the American dates which is quite respectable for age.

For instance, when the Mississippi was first seen by a white man, less than a quarter of a century , had elapsed since Francis I.’s defeat at Pavia; the death of Raphael; the death of Bayard, sans peur et sans reproche ; the driving out of the Knights-Hospitallers from Rhodes by the Turks; and the placarding of the Ninety-Five Propositions, — the act which began the Reformation. When De Soto took his glimpse of the river, Ignatius Loyola was an obscure name; the order of the Jesuits was not yet a year old; Michael Angelo’s paint was not yet dry on the Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel; Mary Queen of Scots was not yet born, but would be before the year closed. Catherine de Medici was a child; Elizabeth of England was not yet

LORDS AND LADIES.    27

in her teens ; Calvin, Benvenuto Cellini, and the Emperor Charles V. were at the top of their fame, and each was manufacturing history after his own peculiar fashion; Margaret of Navarre was writing the “ Heptameron ” and some religious books, —the first survives, the others are forgotten, wit and indelicacy being sometimes better literature-preservers than holiness; lax court morals and the absurd chivalry business were in full feather, and the joust and the tournament were the frequent pastime of titled fine gentlemen who could fight better than they could spell, while religion was the passion of their ladies, and the classifying their offspring into children of full rank and children by

brevet their pastime. In fact, all around, religion was in a peculiarly blooming condition: the


  Council of Trent

Cl 4 \\    was    being

called; the Spanish Inquisition was

roasting, and racking, and burning, with a

free hand; elsewhere on the continent the nations were

being persuaded to holy living by the sword and fire ; in

England, Henry VIII. had suppressed the monasteries, burnt

Fisher and another bishop or two, and was getting his

28    DEATH OF DE SOTO.

English reformation and his harem effectively started. When De Soto stood on the banks of the Mississippi, it was still two years before Luther’s death; eleven years before the burning of Servetus; thirty years before the St. Bartholomew slaughter; Rabelais was not yet published; “ Don Quixote ” was not yet written; Shakspeare was not yet born; a hundred long years must still elapse before Englishmen would hear the name of Oliver Cromwell.

Unquestionably the discovery of the Mississippi is a datable fact which considerably mellows and modifies the

BURIAL OF DE SOTO.

shiny newness of our country, and gives her a most respectable outside-aspect of rustiness and antiquity.

De Soto merely glimpsed the river, then died and was buried in it by his priests and soldiers. One would expect the priests and the soldiers to multiply the river’s dimensions by ten—the Spanish custom of the day — and thus move other adventurers to go at once and explore it. On the contrary, their narratives when they reached home, did not

THE SECOND VISITOR.    29

excite that amount of curiosity. The Mississippi was left unvi sited by whites during a term of years which seems incredible in our energetic days. One may “ sense ” the interval to his mind, after a fashion, by dividing it up in this way: After De Soto glimpsed the river, a fraction short of a quarter of a century elapsed, and then Shakspeare was born; lived a trifle more than half a century, then died; and when he had been in his grave considerably more than half a century, the second white man saw the Mississippi. In our day we don’t allow a hundred and thirty years to

CANADIAN INDIANS.

elapse between glimpses of a marvel. If somebody should discover a creek in the county next to the one that the North Pole is in, Europe and America would start fifteen costly expeditions thither: one to explore the creek, and the other fourteen to hunt for each other.

For more than a hundred and fifty years there had been white settlements on our Atlantic coasts. These people were in intimate communication with the Indians : in the

30    A LONG SILENCE.

south the Spaniards were robbing, slaughtering, enslaving and converting them; higher up, the English were trading beads and blankets to them for a consideration, and throwing in civilization and whiskey, “for lagniappe;”1 and in Canada the French were schooling them in a rudimentary way, missionarying among them, and drawing whole populations of them at a time to Quebec, and later to Montreal, to buy furs of them. Necessarily, then, these various clusters of whites must have heard of the great river of the far west; and indeed, they did hear of it vaguely, — so vaguely and indefinitely, that its course, proportions, and locality were hardly even guessable. The mere mysteriousness of the matter ought to have fired curiosity and compelled exploration; but this did not occur. Apparently nobody happened to want such a river, nobody needed it, nobody was curious about it; so, for a century and a half the Mississippi remained out of the market and undisturbed. When De Soto found-it, he was not hunting for a river, and had no present occasion for one ; consequently he did not value it or even take any particular notice of it.

But at last La Salle the Frenchman conceived the idea of seeking out that river and exploring it. It always happens that when a man seizes upon a neglected and important idea, people inflamed with the same notion crop up all around. It happened so in this instance.

Naturally the question suggests itself, Why did these people want the river now when nobody had wanted it in the five preceding generations ? Apparently it was because at this late day they thought they had discovered a way to make it useful; for it had come to be believed that the Mississippi emptied into the Gulf of California, and therefore afforded a short cut from Canada to China. Previously the supposition had been that it emptied into the Atlantic, or Sea of Virginia.

1 See page .450.

CHAPTER II.

THE RIVER AND ITS EXPLORERS.

A SALLE himself sued for certain high privileges, and

they were graciously accorded him by Louis XIV. of inflated memory. Chief among them was the privilege to explore, far and wide, and build forts, and stake out continents, and hand the same over to the king, and pay the expenses himself; receiving, in return, some little advantages of one sort or another; among them the monopoly of buffalo hides. He spent several years and about all of his money, in making perilous and painful trips between Montreal and a fort which he had built on the Illinois, before he at last succeeded in getting his expedition in such a shape that he could strike for the Mississippi.

And meantime other parties had had better fortune. In 1673 Joliet the merchant, and Marquette the priest, crossed the country and reached the banks of the Mississippi. They went by way of the Great Lakes; and from Green Bay, in canoes, by way of Fox River and the Wisconsin. Marquette had solemnly contracted, on the feast of the Immaculate Conception, that if the Virgin would permit him to discover the great river, he would name it Conception, in her honor. He kept his word. In that day, all explorers travelled with an outfit of priests. De Soto had twenty-four with him. La Salle had several, also. The expeditions were often out of meat, and scant of clothes, but they always had the furniture and other requisites for the mass; they were always prepared, as one of the quaint chroniclers of the time phrased it, to “ explain hell to the salvages.”

32    JOLIET AND MARQUETTE.

On the 17th of June, 1673, the canoes of Joliet and Marquette and their five subordinates reached the junction of the Wisconsin with the Mississippi. Mr. Parkman says: “Before them a wide and rapid current coursed athwart their way, by the foot of lofty heights wrapped thick in forests.” He continues : “ Turning southward, they paddled down the stream, through a solitude unrelieved by the faintest trace of man.”

CROSSING THE LAKES.

A big cat-fish collided with Marquette’s canoe, and startled him ; and reasonably enough, for he had been warned by the Indians that he was on a foolhardy journey, and even a fatal one, for the river contained a demon “ whose roar could be heard at a great distance, and who would engulf them in the abyss where he dwelt.” I have seen a Mississippi cat-fish that was more than six feet long, and weighed two hundred and fifty pounds; and if Marquette’s fish was the fellow to

AN AWFUL SOLITUDE.    38

that one, he had a fair right to think the river’s roaring demon was come.

“ At length the buffalo began to appear, grazing in herds on the great prairies which then bordered the river; and Marquette describes the fierce and stupid look of the old bulls as they stared at the intruders through the tangled mane which nearly blinded them.”

The voyagers moved cautiously: “ Landed at night and made a fire to cook their evening meal; then extinguished

ANCHORED IN THE STREAM.

it, embarked again, paddled some way farther, and anchored in the stream, keeping a man on the watch till morning.” They did this day after day and night after night; and at the end of two weeks they had not seen a human being. The river was an awful solitude, then. And it is now, over most of its stretch.

But at the close of the fortnight they one day came upon the footprints of men in the mud of the western bank — a Robinson Crusoe experience which carries an electric shiver with it yet, when one stumbles on it in print. They had been warned that the river Indians were as ferocious and 3

34    INDIAN HOSPITALITY.

pitiless as the river demon, and destroyed all comers without waiting for provocation; but no matter, Joliet and Marquette struck into the country to hunt up the proprietors of the tracks. They found them, by and by, and    were

hospitably received and well treated — if to i be received by an Indian chief who has taken    off his

last rag in order to appear at his level best is to be received hospitably ; and if to be treated abundantly to fish, porridge, and other game, including dog, and have these things forked into one’s mouth by the ungloved fingers of Indians is to be well treated. In the morning the chief and six hundred of his tribesmen escorted the Frenchmen to the river and bade them a friendly farewell.

On the rocks above the present city of Alton they found some rude and fantastic Indian paintings, which they describe. A short distance below “ a torrent of yellow mud rushed furiously athwart the calm blue current of the Mis-

THE VOYAGES CONTINUED.    85

sissippi, boiling and surging and sweeping in its course logs, branches, and uprooted trees.” This was the mouth of the Missouri, “ that savage river,” which “ descending from its mad career through a vast unknown of barbarism, poured its turbid floods into the bosom of its gentle sister.”

By and by they passed the mouth of the Ohio; they passed . canebrakes ; they fought mosquitoes ; they floated along, day after day, through the deep silence and loneliness of the river, drowsing in the scant shade of makeshift awnings, and broiling with the heat; they encountered and exchanged civilities with another party of Indians ; and at last they reached the mouth of the Arkansas (about a month out from their starting-point), where a tribe of war-whooping savages swarmed out to meet and murder them; but they appealed to the Virgin for help; so in place of a fight there was a feast, and plenty of pleasant palaver and fol-de-rol.

They had proved to their satisfaction, that the Mississippi did not empty into the Gulf of California, or into the Atlantic. They believed it emptied into the Gulf of Mexico. They turned back, now, and carried their great news to Canada.

But belief is not proof. It was reserved for La Salle to furnish the proof. He was provokingly delayed, by one misfortune after' another, but at last got his expedition under way at the end of the year 1681. In the dead of winter he and Henri de Tonty, son of Lorenzo Tonty, who invented the tontine, his lieutenant, started down the Illinois, with a following of eighteen Indians brought from New England, and twenty-three Frenchmen. They moved in procession down the surface of the frozen river, on foot, and dragging their canoes after them on sledges.

At Peoria Lake they struck open water, and paddled thence to the Mississippi and turned their prows southward. They ploughed through the fields of floating ice, past the mouth of the Missouri; past the mouth of the Ohio, by and by; “ and, gliding by the wastes of bordering swamp, landed 011 the 24th

36    THE ARKANSAS REACHED.

of February near the Third Chickasaw Bluffs,” where they halted and built Fort Prudhomme.

“ Again,” says Mr. Parkman, “ they embarked; and with every stage of their adventurous progress, the mystery of this vast new world was more and more unveiled. More and more they entered the realms of spring. The hazy sunlight, the warm and drowsy air, the tender foliage, the opening flowers, betokened the reviving life of nature.”

LA SALLE OK THE ICE.

Day by day they floated down the great bends, in the shadow of the dense forests, and in time arrived at the mouth of the Arkansas. First, they were greeted by the natives of this locality as Marquette had before been greeted by them — with the booming of the war drum and the flourish of arms. The Virgin composed the difficulty in Marquette’s case ; the pipe of peace did the same office for La Salle. The white man and the red man struck hands and entertained each other during three days. Then, to the

PIOUS ROBBERY.    37

admiration of the savages, La Salle set up a cross with the arms of France on it, and took possession of the whole country for the king — the cool fashion of the time—while the priest piously consecrated the robbery with a hymn. The priest explained the mysteries of the faith “ by signs,” for the saving of the savages; thus compensating them with pos-

CONSECRATING THE ROBBERY.

sihle possessions in Heaven for the certain ones on earth which they had just been robbed of. And also, by signs, La Salle drew from these simple children of the forest acknowledgments of fealty to Louis the Putrid, over the water. Nobody smiled at these colossal ironies.

These performances took place on the site of the future

38    THE FUTURE NAPOLEON.

town of Napoleon, Arkansas, and there the first confiscation-cross was raised on the banks of the great river. Marquette’s and Joliet’s voyage of discovery ended at the same spot — the site of the future town of Napoleon. When De Soto took his fleeting glimpse of the river, away back in the dim early days, he took it from that same spot — the site

Arkansas. Therefore, three out of the

four memorable events connected with the discovery and exploration of the mighty river occurred, by accident, in one and the same place. It is a most curious distinction, when one comes to look at it and think about it. France stole that vast country on that spot, the future Napoleon; and by and by Napoleon himself was to give the country back again! — make restitution, not to the owners, but to their white American heirs.

The voyagers journeyed on, touching here and there; “ passed the sites, since become historic, of Vicksburg and Grand Gulf;” and visited an imposing Indian monarch in

GHASTLY ORNAMENTS.    39

the Teche country, whose capital' city was a substantial one of sun-baked bricks mixed with straw — better houses than many that exist there now. The chief’s house contained an audience room forty feet square; and there he received Tonty in State, surrounded by sixty old men clothed in white cloaks. There was a temple in the town, with a mud wall about it ornamented with skulls of enemies sacrificed to the sun.

The voyagers visited the Natchez Indians, near the site of the present city of that name, where they found a “ religious and political despotism, a privileged class descended from the sun, a temple and a sacred fire.” It must have been like getting home again ; it was home with an advantage, in fact, for it lacked Louis XIV.

A few more days swept swiftly by, and La Salle stood in the shadow of his confiscating cross, at the meeting of the waters from Delaware, and from Itaska, and from the mountain ranges close upon the Pacific, with the waters of the Gulf of Mexico, his task finished, his prodigy achieved. Mr.-Parkman, in closing his fascinating narrative, thus sums up:

“ On that day, the realm of France received on parchment a stupendous accession. The fertile plains of Texas; the vast basin of the Mississippi, from its frozen northern springs to the sultry borders of the Gulf; from the woody ridges of the Alleghanies to the bare peaks. of the Rocky Mountains — a region of savannas and forests, sun-cracked deserts and grassy prairies, watered by a thousand rivers, ranged by a thousand warlike tribes, passed beneath the sceptre of the Sultan of Versailles; and all by virtue of a feeble human voice, inaudible at half a mile.”

CHAPTER III.

FRESCOES FROM THE PAST.

APPARENTLY the river was ready for business, now. But no, the distribution of a population along its banks was as calm and deliberate and time-devouring a process as the discovery and exploration had been.

fore the river’s borders had

a white population worth considering; and nearly fifty more before the river had a commerce. Between La Salle’s opening of the river and the time when it may be said to have become the vehicle of anything like a regular and active commerce, seven sovereigns had occupied the throne of

COMMERCE BEGINS.    41

England, America had become an independent nation, Louis XIV. and Louis XV. had rotted and died, the French monarchy had gone down in the red tempest of the revolution, and Napoleon was a name that was beginning to be talked about. Truly, there were snails in those days.

The river’s earliest commerce was in great barges — keel-boats, broadhorns. They floated and sailed from the upper rivers to New Orleans, changed cargoes there, and were tediously warped and poled back by hand. A voyage down and back sometimes occupied nine months. In time this commerce increased until it gave employment to hordes of rough and hardy men; rude, uneducated, brave, suffering terrific hardships with sailor-like stoicism ; heavy drinkers, coarse frolickers in moral sties like the Natchez-under-the-hill of that day, heavy fighters, reckless fellows, every one, elephantinely jolly, foul-witted, profane; prodigal of their money, bankrupt at the end of the trip, fond of barbaric finery, prodigious braggarts ; yet, in. tlie main, honest, trustworthy, faithful to promises and duty, and often picturesquely magnanimous.

By and by the steamboat intruded. Then, for fifteen or twenty years, these men continued to run their keelboats down-stream, and the steamers did all of the up-stream business, the keelboatmen selling their boats in New Orleans, and returning home as deck passengers in the steamers.

But after a while the steamboats so increased in number and in speed that they were able to absorb the entire commerce ; and then keelboating died a permanent death. The keelboatman became a deck hand, or a mate, or a pilot on the steamer; and when steamer-berths were not open to him, he took a berth on a Pittsburgh coal-flat, or on a pine-raft constructed in the forests up toward the sources of the Mississippi.

In the heyday of the steamboating prosperity, the river from end to end was flaked with coal-fleets and timber rafts, all managed by hand, and employing hosts of the rough

42    MIGHTY RAFTS.

characters whom I have been trying to describe. I remember the annual processions of mighty rafts that used to glide by Hannibal when I was a boy, — an acre or so of white, sweet-smelling boards in each raft, a crew of two dozen men or more, three or four wigwams scattered about the raft’s vast level space for storm-quarters, — and I remember the rude ways and the tremendous talk of their big crews, the ex-keelboatmen and their admiringly patterning successors ; for we used to swim out a quarter or third of a mile and get on these rafts and have a ride.

A LUMBER RAFT.

By way of illustrating keelboat talk and manners, and that now-departed and hardly-remembered raft-life, I will throw in, in this place, a chapter from a book which I have been working at, by fits and starts, during the past five or six years, and may possibly finish in the course of five or six more. The book is a story which details some passages in the life of an ignorant village boy, Huck Finn, son of the town drunkard of my time out west, there. He has run away from his persecuting father, and from a persecuting good widow who wishes to make a nice, truth-telling, respectable boy of him ; and with him a slave of the widow’s has

AN UNPUBLISHED CHAPTER.    43

also escaped. They have found a fragment of a lumber raft (it is high water and dead summer time), and are floating down the river by night, and hiding in the willows by day, — bound for Cairo, — whence the negro will seek freedom in the heart of the free States. But in a fog, they pass Cairo without knowing it. By and by they begin to suspect the truth, and Huck Finn is persuaded to end the dismal suspense by swimming down to a huge raft which they have seen in the distance ahead of them, creeping aboard under cover of the darkness, and gathering the needed information by eavesdropping: —

But you know a young person can’t wait very well when he is impatient to find a thing out. We talked it over, and by and by Jim said it was such a black night, now, that it would n’t be no risk

raft and crawl aboard and listen, — they would talk about Cairo, because they would be calculating to go ashore there for a spree, maybe, or anyway they would send boats ashore to buy whiskey or fresh meat or something. .Tim had a wonderful level head, for a nigger: he could most always start a good plan when you wanted one.

I stood up and shook my rags off and jumped into the river, and struck out for the raft’s light. By and by, when I got down nearly

44     GIVE US A REST."

to her, I eased up and went slow and cautious. But everything was all right — nobody at the sweeps. So I swum down along the raft till I was most abreast the camp fire in the middle, then I crawled aboard and inched along and got in amongst some bundles of shingles on the weather side of the fire. There was thirteen men there — they was the watch on deck of course. And a mighty rough-looking lot, too. They had a jug, and tin cups, and they kept the jug moving. One man was singing — roaring, you may say ; and it wasn’t a nice song—for a parlor anyway. He roared through his nose, and strung out the last word of every line very long. When he was done they all fetched a kind of Injun war-whoop, and then another was sung. It begun: —

“ There was a woman in our towdn,

In our towdn did dwed’l (dwell,)

She loved her husband dear-i-lee,

But another man twyste as wed’l.

Singing too, riloo, riloo, riloo,

Ri-too, riloo, rilay - - - e,

She loved her husband dear-i-lee,

But another man twyste as wed’l.”

And so on — fourteen verses. It was kind of poor, and when he was going to start on the next verse one of them said it was the tune the old cow died on; and another one said, “ Oh, give us a rest.” And another one told him to take a walk. They made fun of him till he got mad and jumped up and begun to cuss the crowd, and said he could lam any thief in the lot.

They was all about to make a break for him, but the biggest man there jumped up and says: —

“ Set whar you are, gentlemen. Leave him to me; he’s my meat.”

Then he jumped up in the air three times and cracked his heels together every time. He flung off: a buckskin coat that was all hung with fringes, and says, “You lay thar tell the chawin-up’s done; ” and flung his hat down, which was all over ribbons, and says, “You lay thar tell his sufferins is over.”

Then he jumped up in the air and cracked his heels together again and shouted out: —

“ Whoo-oop! I’m the old original iron-jawed, brass-mounted,

THE CORPSE-MAKER CROWS.    45

copper-bellied corpse-maker from the wilds of Arkansaw! — Look at me ! I’m the man they call Sudden Death and General Desolation ! Sired by a hurricane, darn’d by an earthquake, half-brother to the cholera, nearly related to the small-pox on the mother’s side! Look at me! I take nineteen alligators and a bar’l of whiskey for

“lIE JUMPEn UP IN THE AIR."

breakfast when I’m in robust health, and a bushel of rattlesnakes and a dead body when I’m ailing!

I split the everlasting rocks with my glance, and I squench the thunder when I speak ! Whoo-oop! Stand back and give me room according to my strength ! Blood \s my natural drink, and the wails of the dying is music to my ear! Cast your eye on me, gentlemen! — and lay low and hold your breath, for I’m bout to turn myself loose ! ”

All the time he was getting this off, he was shaking his head and looking fierce, and kind of swelling around in a little circle, tucking up his wrist-bands, and now and then straightening up and beating

46    “THE CHILD OE CALAMITY.”

his breast with his fist, saying, “ Look at me, gentlemen! ” When he got through, he jumped up and cracked his heels together three times, and let off a roaring “ whoo-oop ! I’m the bloodiest son of a wildcat that lives! ”

Then the man that had started the row tilted his old slouch hat down over his right eye ; then he bent stooping forward, with his back sagged and his south end sticking out far, and his fists a-shoving out and drawing in in front of him, and so went around in a little circle about three times, swelling himself up and breathing hard. Then he straightened, and jumped up and cracked his heels together three times before he lit again (that made them cheer), and he begun to shout like this: —

“ tYhoo-oop! bow your neck and spread, for the kingdom of sorrow’s a-coming ! Hold me down to the earth, for I feel my powers a-working! whoo-oop ! I’m a child of sin, don't let me get a start! Smoked glass, here, for all! Don’t attempt to look at me with the naked eye, gentlemen ! When I’m    playful I

use the meridians    of longi

WENT AROUND IN A CIRCLE.

tude and parallels of latitude for    a    seine,    and    drag    the    Atlantic    Ocean for whales !    I scratdh

my    head    with    the    lightning    and    purr myself to sleep    with the

thunder ! When I’m cold, I bile the Gulf of Mexico and bath© in it; when I’m hot I fan myself with an equinoctial storm; when I’m thirsty I reach up and suck a cloud dry like a sponge ; when I range the earth hungry, famine follows in my tracks! Whoo-

THEY BOTH WEAKEN.

47

oop! Bow your neck and spread! I put my hand on the sun’s face and make it night in the earth; I bite a piece out of the moon and hurry the seasons; I shake myself and crumble the mountains! ' Contemplate me through leather — don't use the naked eye! I’m the man with a petrified heart and biler-iron bowels ! The massacre of isolated communities is the pastime of my idle moments,- the destruction of nationalities the serious business of my life! The boundless vastness of the great American desert is my enclosed property, and I bury my dead on my own premises ! ” He jumped up and cracked his heels together three times before he lit (they cheered him again), and as he come down he shouted out: “ Whoo-oop! bow your neck and spread, for the pet child of calamity ’s a-coming! ”

Then the other one went to swelling around and blowing again — the first one —the one they called Bob; next, the Child of Calamity chipped in again, bigger than ever; then they both got at it at the same time, swelling round and round each other and punching their fists most into each other’s faces, and whooping and jawing like Injuns; then Bob called the Child names, and the Child called him names back again: next, Bob called hinra heap rougher names and the Child come back at him with the very worst kind of language ; next, Bob knocked the Child’s hat off, and the Child picked it up and kicked Bob’s ribbony hat about six foot; Bob went and got it and said never mind, this war n’t going to be the last of this thing, because he was a man that never forgot and never forgive, and so the Child better look out, for there was a time a-coming, just as sure as he was a living man, that he would have to answer to him with the best blood in his body. The Child said no man was willinger than he was for that time to come, and he would give Bob fair warning, now, never to cross his path again, for he could never rest till he had waded in his blood, for such was his nature, though he was sparing him now on account of his family, if he had one.

Both of them was edging away in different directions, growling and shaking their heads and going on about what they was going to do ; but a little black-whiskered chap skipped up and says : —

“ Come back here, you couple of chicken-livered cowards, and I ’11 thrash the two of ye ! ”


48    LITTLE DAVY STEPS IN.

And lie done it, too. He snatched them, he jerked them this way and that, he booted them around, he knocked them sprawling faster than they could get up. Why, it war n’t two minutes till they begged like dogs — and how the other lot did yell and laugh and clap their hands all the way through, and shout “ Sail in, Corpse-

“he knocked them sprawling.”

Maker! ” “ Hi! at him again, Child of Calamity! ” “ Bully for you, little Davy ! ” Well, it was a perfect pow-wow for a while. Bob and the Child had red noses and black eyes when they got through. Little Davy made them own up that they was sneaks and cowards and not fit to eat with a dog or drink with a nigger; then Bob and the Child shook hands with each other, very solemn, and said they

AFTER THE BATTLE.    49

had always respected each other and was willing to let bygones be bygones. So then they washed their faces in the river; and just then there was a loud order to stand by for a crossing, and some of them went forward to man the sweeps there, and the rest went aft to handle the after-sweeps.

I laid still and waited for fifteen minutes, and had a smoke out of a pipe that one of them left in reach; then the crossing was finished,

AN OLD-FASHIONED BREAK-DOWN.

and they stumped back and had a drink around and went to talking and singing again. Next they got out an old fiddle, and one played, and another patted, juba, and the* rest turned themselves loose on a regular old-fashioned keel-boat break-down. They couldn’t keep that up very long without getting winded, so by and by they settled around the jug again.

They sung “ jolly, jolly raftsman’s the life for me,” with a rousing chorus, and then they got to talking about differences betwixt hogs, and their different kind of habits ; and next about women and their 4

50    ED’S ADVENTURES.

different ways; and next about the best ways to put out houses that was afire; and next about what ought to be done with the Injuns ; and next    about what    a king    had to do, and    how much he got;

and next    about how to make    cats fight; and    next about what to

do when a man has fits ; and next about differences betwixt Clearwater rivers and muddy-water ones. The man they called Ed said the muddy Mississippi water was wholesomer to drink than the clear water of the Ohio ; he said if you let a pint of this yaller Mississippi water settle, you would have about a half to three quarters of an inch of mud in the bottom, according to the stage of the river,    and then it    war n’t    no better then    Ohio water — what

you wanted to do was    to keep    it stirred up —    and when the river

was low, keep mud on hand to put in and thicken the water up the way it ought to be.

The Child of Calamity said that was so ; he said there was nutritiousness in the mud, and a man that drunk Mississippi water could grow corn in his stomach if he wanted to. He says : —

“ You look at the graveyards ; that tells the tale. Trees won’t grow worth shucks in a Cincinnati graveyard, but in a Sent Louis graveyard they grow upwards of eight hundred foot high. It’s all on account of the water the people drunk before they laid up. A Cincinnati corpse don’t richen a soil any.”

And they talked about how Ohio water did n’t like to mix with Mississippi water. Ed said if you take the Mississippi on a rise when the Ohio is low, you ’11 find a wide band of clear water all the way down the east side of the Mississippi for a hundred mile or more, and the minute you get out a quarter of a mile from shore and pass the line, it is all thick and yaller the rest of the way across. Then they talked about how to keep tobacco from getting mould}?-, and from that they went into ghosts and told about a lot that other folks had seen; but Ed says : —

“ Why don’t you tell something that you’ve seen yourselves ? Now let me have a say. Five years ago I was on a raft as big as this, and right along here it was a bright moonshiny night, and I was on watch and boss of the stabboard oar forrard, and one of my pards was a man named Dick Allbright, and he come along to where I was sitting, forrard — gaping and stretching, he was — and stooped down on the edge of the raft and washed his face in the

SOMETHING QUEER.    51

river, and come and set down by me and got out his pipe, and had just got it filled, when he looks up and says, —

44 4 Why looky-here,’ he says, 4 ain’t that Buck Miller’s place, over yander in the bend ? ’

“ ‘ Yes,’ says I, 4 it is —why ? ’ He laid his pipe down and leant his head on his hand, and says, —

44 4 I thought we’d be furder down.’ I says, —

41 thought it too, when I went off watch ’ — we was standing six hours on and six off — 4 but the boys told me,’ I says, 4 that the raft didn’t seem to hardly move, for the last hour,’ — says 1,4 though she’s a slipping along all right, now,’ says I.

THE MYSTERIOUS BARREL.

He give a kind of a groan, and says, —

44 4 1 ’ve seed a raft act so before, along here,’ he says, 4 ’pears to me the current has most quit above the head of this bend durin’ the last two years,’ he says.

44 Well, he raised up two or three times, and looked away off and around on the water.

That started me at it, too. A body is always doing what he sees

somebody else doing, though there may n’t be no sense in it. Pretty soon I see a black something floating    on    the    water    away off

to stabboard and quartering behind us. I    see    he    was looking at

it, too. I says, —

44 4 What’s that ? ’ He says, sort of pettish, —

44 4 Tain’t nothing but an old empty bar’l.’

44 4 An empty bar’l! ’ says I, 4 why,’ says I, 4 a    spy-glass    is a fool

to your eyes. How can you tell it’s an empty bar’l ? ’ He says, —

52    A HAUNTED BARREL.

“ ‘ I don’t know ; I reckon it ain’t a bar’l, but I thought it might be,’ says he.

“ ‘Yes,’ I says, ‘so it might be, and it might be anything else, too ; a body can’t tell nothing about it, such a distance as that,’ I says.

“ We had n’t nothing else to do, so we kept on watching it. By and by I says, —

“ ‘ Why looky-here, Dick Allbright, that thing’s a-gaining on us, I believe.’

“ He never said nothing. The thing gained and gained, and I judged it must be a dog that was about tired out. Well, we swung down into the crossing, and the thing floated across the bright streak of the moonshine, and, by George, it was a bar'l. Says I, —

“ ‘ Dick Allbright, what made you think that thing was a bar’l, when it was a half a mile off,’ says I. Says he, —

“ ‘ I don’t know.’ Says I, —

“ ‘You tell me, Dick Allbright.’ He says,—

“ ‘Well, I knowed it was a bar’l; I’ve seen it before ; lots has seen it; they says it’s a hanted bar’l.’

“ I called the rest of the Avatch, and they come and stood there, and I told them what Dick said. It floated right along abreast, now, and did n’t gain any more. It was about twenty foot off. Some was for having it aboard, but the rest didn’t Avant to. Dick Allbright said rafts that had fooled with it had got bad luck by it. The captain of the Avatch said he did n’t believe in it. He said he reckoned the bar’l gained on us because it Avas in a little better current than what we was. He said it would leave by and by.

“ So then we went to talking about other things, and we had a song, and then a brealcdoAvn ; and after that the captain of the watch called for another song ; but it was clouding up, now, and the bar’l stuck right thar in the same place, and the song didn’t seem to have much warm-up to it, somehow, and so they did n’t finish it, and there Avar n’t any cheers, but it sort of dropped flat, and nobody said anything for a minute. Then everybody tried to talk at once, and one chap got off a joke, but it Avar n’t no use, they did n’t laugh, and even the chap that made the joke did n’t laugh at it, which ain’t usual. We all just settled down glum, and watched the bar’l, and was oneasy and oncomfortable. Well, sir, it

IT BRINGS A STORM.    53

shut down black and still, and then the wind begin to moan around, and next the lightning begin to play and the thunder to grumble. And pretty soon there was a regular storm, and in the middle of it a man that was running aft stumbled and fell and sprained his ankle so that he had to lay up. This made the boys shake their heads. And every time the lightning come, there was that bar’l with the blue lights winking around it. We was always on the

• soon there was a regular storm.”

look-out for it. But by and by, towards dawn, she was gone. When the day come we could n’t see her anywhere, and we war n’t sorry, neither.

“ But next night about half-past nine, when there was songs and high jinks going on, here she comes again, and took her old roost on the stabboard side. There war n’t no more high jinks. Everybody got solemn ; nobody talked ; you could n’t get anybody to do

54    THE BARREL PURSUES.

anything but set around moody and look at the bar’l. It begun to cloud up again. When the watch changed, the off watch stayed up, ’stead of turning in. The storm ripped and roared around all night, and in the middle of it another man tripped and sprained his ankle, and had to knock off. The bar’l left towards day, and nobody see it go.

“ Everybody was sober and down in the mouth all day. I don’t mean the kind of sober that comes of leaving liquor alone, — not that. They was quiet, but they all drunk more than usual, — not together, — but each man sidled off and took it private, by himself.

“ After dark the off watch did n’t turn in ; nobody sung, nobody talked; the boys did n’t scatter around, neither; they sort of huddled together, forrard; and for two hours they set there, perfectly still, looking steady in the one direction, and heaving a sigh once in a while. And then, here comes the bar’l again. She took up her old place. She staid there all night; nobody turned in. The storm come on again, after midnight. It got awful dark ; the rain poured down ; hail, too; the thunder boomed and roared and bellowed ; the wind blowed a hurricane ; and the lightning spread over everything in big sheets of glare, and showed the whole raft as plain as day; and the river lashed up white as milk as far as you could see for miles, and there was that bar’l jiggering along, same as ever. The captain ordered the watch to man the after sweeps for a crossing, and nobody would go, — no more sprained ankles for them, they said. They wouldn’t even walk aft. Well then, just then the sky split wide open, with a crash, and the lightning killed two men of the after watch, and crippled two more. Crippled them how, says you ? Why, sprained their ankles !

The bar’l left in the dark betwixt lightnings, towards dawn. Well, not a body eat a bite at breakfast that morning. After that the men loafed around, in twos and threes, and talked low together. But none of them herded with Dick Allbright. They all give him the cold shake. If he come around where any of the men was, they split up and sidled away. They would n’t man the sweeps with him. The captain had all the skiffs hauled up on the raft, alongside of his wigwam, and would n’t let the dead men be took ashore to be planted; he did n’t believe a man that got ashore would come back; and he was right.

KILLED BY LIGHTNING.    55

“ After night come, you could see pretty plain that there was going to be trouble if that bar’l come again ; there was such a muttering going on, A good many wanted to kill Dick Allbright, because he’d seen the bar’l on other trips, and that had an ugly look. Some wanted to put him ashore. Some said, let’s all go ashore in a pile, if the bar’l comes again.

THE LIGHTNING KILLED TWO MEN. '

“ This kind of whispers was still going on, the men being bunched together forrard watching for the bar’l, when, lo and behold you, here she comes again. Down she comes, slow and steady, and settles into her old tracks. You could a heard a pin drop. Then up comes the captain, and says: —

“ ‘ Boys, don’t be a pack of children and fools; I don’t want this bar’l to be dogging us all the way to Orleans, and you don’t; well, then, how’s the best way to stop it ? Burn it up, — that’s the way. I’m going to fetch it aboard,’ he says. And before anybody could say a word, in he went.

“ He swum to it, and as he come pushing it to the raft, the men spread to one side.

But the old man got it aboard

and busted in the head, and there was a baby in it! Yes sir, a stark naked baby. It was Dick Allbright’s baby ; he owned up and said so.

Yes,’ he says, a-leaning over it, ‘ yes, it is my own lamented darling, my poor lost Charles William Allbright deceased,’ says he, — for he could curl his tongue around the bulliest words in the lan-

5G    ALLBKIGHT ATONES.

guage when he was a mind to, and lay them before you without a jint started, anywheres. Yes, he said he used to live up at the head of this bend, and one night he choked his child, which was crying, not intending to kill it, — which was prob’ly a lie, — and then he was

scared, and buried it in a bar’l, before his wife got home, and off he went, and struck the northern trail and went to rafting ; and this was the third year that the bar’l had chased him. He said the bad luck always begun light, and lasted till four men was killed, and then the bar’l did n’t come any more after that. He said if the men would stand it one more night,—and was a-going on like that, — but the men had got enough. They started to get out a boat to take him ashore and lynch him, but he grabbed the little child all of a sudden and jumped over-“ grabbed the little child.”    board with it hugged up

to his breast and shedding tears, and we never see him again in this life, poor old suffering soul, nor Charles William neither.”

Who was shedding tears ? ” says Bob ; “ was it Allbright or the baby ? ”

“ Why, Allbright, of course; didn’t I tell you the baby was dead ? Been dead three years —how could it cry ? ”

“Well, never mind how it could cry — how could it keep all that . time ? ” says Davy. “ You answer me that.”

ED GETS MAD.    57

“ I don’t know how it done it,” says Ed. “ It done it though — that’s all I know about it.”

“ Say — what did they do with the bar’l ? ” says the Child of Calamity.

“Why, they hove it overboard, and it sunk like a chunk of lead.”

“ Edward, did the child look like it was choked ? ” says one.

“ Did it have its hair parted? ” says another.

“ What was the brand on that bar’l, Eddy ? ” says a fellow they called Bill.

lightning?” says Davy.

“ Him ? O, no, he was both of ’em,” says Bob. Then they all haw-hawed.

“ Say, Edward, don’t you reckon you’d better take a pill ? You look bad — don’t you feel pale ? ” says the Child of Calamity.

“ O, come, now, Eddy,” says Jimmy, “ show up; you must a kept

58    SNAKE OR BOY ?

part of that bar’l to prove the thing by. Show us the bunghole — do — and we ’11 all believe you.”

“ Say, boys,” says Bill, “ less divide it up. Thar’s thirteen of us. I can swaller a thirteenth of the yarn, if you can worry down the rest.”

“ Boys, we ’11 split a watermelon on that,” says the Child of Calamity;

and he come rummaging around in the dark amongst the shingle bundles where I was, and put his hand on me. I was warm and soft and naked ; so he says “ Ouch! ” and jumped back.

“ Fetch a lantern or a chunk of fire here, boys — there’s a snake here as big as a cow! ”

So they run there with a lantern and crowded up and looked in on me.

“ Come out of that, you beggar! ” says one.

“ Who are you ? ” says another.

“ What are you after here ? Speak up prompt, or overboard you

•‘SNAKE HIM OUT.5’    59

“ Snake liim out, boj^s. Snatch liim out by the heels.”

I began to beg, and crept out amongst them trembling. They looked me over, wondering, and the Child of Calamity says : —

“ A cussed thief! Lend a hand and less heave him overboard ! ” “No,” says Big Bob, “less get out the paint-pot and paint him a sky blue all over from head to heel, and then heave him over! ”

“ Good ! that’s it. Go for the paint, Jimmy.”

When the paint come, and Bob took the brush and was just going to begin, the others laughing and rubbing their hands, I begun to cry, and that sort of worked on Davy, and he says : —

“ ’Vast there ! He’s nothing but a cub. I ’11 paint the man that tetches him! ”

So I looked around on them, and some of them grumbled and growled, and Bob put down the paint, and the others did n’t take it up.

“ Come here to the lire, and less see what you ’re up to here,” says Davy. “ Now set down there and give an account of yourself. How long have you been aboard here ? ”

“ Not over a quarter of a minute, sir,” sa}rs I.

“ How did you get dry so quick ? ”

“ I don’t know, sir. I’m always that way, mostly.”

“ Oh, you are, are you ? What’s your name ? ”

I war n’t going to tell my name. I did n’t know what to say, so I just says :

“ Charles William Allbright, sir.”

Then they roared — the whole crowd ; and I was mighty ghul I said that, because maybe laughing would get them in a better humor.

When they got done laughing, Davy says : —

“It won’t hardly do, Charles 'William. \ ou could n’t have growed this much in five year, and you was a baby when you come out of the bar’l, you know, and dead at that. Come, now, tell a straight story, and nobody ’11 hurt you, if you ain’t up to anything wrong. What is your name ? ”

“Aleck Hopkins, sir. Aleck James Hopkins.”

“Well, Aleck, where did you come from, here?”

“ From a trading scow. She lays up the bend yonder. I was born on her. Pap has traded up and down here all his life ; and he

60    SOME    LIVELY LYING.

told me to swim off here, because when you went by he said he would like to get some of you to speak to a Mr. Jonas Turney, in Cairo, and tell him — ”

“ Oh, come! ”

“ Yes, sir, it’s as true as the world ; Pap he says — ”

“ Oh, your grandmother! ”

They all laughed, and I tried again to talk, but they broke in on me and stopped me.

“CHARLES WILLIAM ALLBRIGHT, SIR.”

“ Now, looky-here,” says Davy ; “ you ’re scared, and so you talk wild. Honest, now, do you live in a scow, or is it a lie ? ”

“Yes, sir, in a trading scow. She lays up at the head of the bend. But I war n’t born in her. It’s our first trip.”

“Now you ’re talking! What did you come aboard here, for ? To steal ? ”

OFF AND OVERBOARD.    61

“ No, sir, I did n’t. — It was only to get a ride on the raft. All boys does that.”

“ Well, I know that. But what did you hide for ? ”

“ Sometimes they drive the boys off.”

“ So they do. They might steal. Looky-here; if we let you off this time, will you keep out of these kind of scrapes hereafter ? ”

“ ’Deed I will, boss. You try me.”

“ All right, then. You ain’t but little ways from shore. Overboard with you, and don’t you make a fool of yourself another time this way. — Blast it, boy, some raftsmen would rawhide you till you were black and blue! ”

I did n’t wait to kiss good-bye, but went overboard and broke for shore. When Jim come along by and by, the big raft was away out of sight around the point. I swum out and got aboard, and was mighty glad to see home again.

The boy did not get the information he was after, but his adventure has furnished the glimpse of the departed raftsman and keelboatman which I desire to offer in this place.

I now come to a phase of the Mississippi River life of the flush times of steamboating, which seems to me to warrant full examination — the marvellous science of piloting, as displayed there. I believe there has been nothing like it elsewhere in the world.

CHAPTER IV.

THE BOYS’ AMBITION.

WHEN I was a boy, there was but one permanent ambition among my comrades in our village 1 on the west bank of the Mississippi River. That was, to be a steamboatman. We had transient ambitions

“our permanent ambition.”

When a circus came and went, it left us all burning to become clowns; the first negro minstrel show that came to our section left us all suffering to try that kind of life ; now and

1 Hannibal, Missouri.

A DROWSY TOWN.    63

then we had a hope that if we lived and were good, God would permit us to be pirates. These ambitions faded out, each in its turn; but the ambition to be a steamboatman always remained.

Once a day a cheap, gaudy packet arrived upward from St. Louis, and    another    down-

Keokuk. Before events, the day was glorious with expectancy; after them, the day was a dead and empty thing. Not only the boys, but the whole village, felt this. After all these years I can picture that old time to myself now, just as it was then : the white town drowsing in the sunshine of a summer’s morning ; the streets empty, or pretty “water-street clerks.”    nearly    so;    one    or

two clerks sitting

in front of the Water Street stores, with their splint-bottomed chairs tilted back against the wall, chins on breasts, hats slouched over their faces, asleep — with shingle-shav-ings enough around to show what broke them down; a sow and a litter of pigs loafing along the sidewalk, doing a good business in watermelon rinds and seeds; two or

M

64    “STEAMBOAT COMIN’!

three lonely little freight piles scattered about the “ levee; ” a pile of “skids” on the slope of the stone-paved wharf, and the fragrant town drunkard asleep in the shadow of them; two or three wood flats at the head of the wharf, but nobody to listen to the peaceful lapping of the wavelets against them; the great Mississippi, the majestic, the magnificent Mississippi, rolling its mile-wide tide along, shining in the sun; the dense forest away on the other side ; the “ point ” above the town, and the “ point ” below, bounding

“all go hurrying

TO THE WHARF.”

the river-glimpse and turning it into a sort of sea, and withal a very still and brilliant and lonely one. Presently a film of dark smoke appears above one of those remote “ points; ” instantly a negro drayman, famous for his quick eye and prodigious voice, lifts up the cry, “ S-t-e-a-m-boat a-comin’! ” and the scene changes! The town drunkard stirs, the clerks wake up, a furious clatter of drays follows, every house and store pours out a human contribution, and all

UNDER WAY AGAIN.    65

iii a twinkling the dead town is alive and moving. Drays, carts, men, boys, all go hurrying from' many quarters to a common centre, the wharf. Assembled there, the people fasten their eyes upon the coming boat as upon a wonder they are seeing for the first time. And the boat is rather a handsome sight, too. She is long and sharp and trim and pretty; she has two tall, fancy-topped chimneys, with a gilded device of some kind swung between them; a fanciful pilot-house, all glass and “ gingerbread,” perched on top of the “ texas ” deck behind them; the paddle-boxes are gorgeous with a picture or with gilded rays above the boat’s name; the boiler deck, the hurricane deck, and the texas deck are fenced and Ornamented with clean white railings; there is a flag gallantly flying from the jack-staff; the furnace doors are open and the fires glaring bravely; the upper decks are black with passengers; the captain stands by the big bell, calm, imposing, the envy of all; great volumes of the blackest smoke are rolling and tumbling out of the chimneys — a husbanded grandeur created with a bit of pitch pine just before arriving at a town; the crew are grouped on the forecastle; the broad stage is run far out over the port bow, and an envied deck-hand stands picturesquely on the end of it with a coil of rope in his hand; the pent steam is screaming through the gauge-cocks; the captain lifts his hand, a bell rings, the wheels stop; then they turn back, churning the water to foam, and the steamer is at rest. Then such a scramble as there is to get aboard, and to get ashore, and to take in freight and to discharge freight, all at one and the same time; and such a yelling and cursing as the mates facilitate it all with ! Ten minutes later the steamer is under way again, with 110 flag on the jack-staff and 110 black smoke issuing from the chimneys. After ten more minutes the town is dead again, and the town drunkard asleep by the skids once more.

My father was a justice of the peace, and I supposed he

06    WORLDLY SUCCESS.

possessed the power of life and death over all men and could hang anybody that offended him. This was distinction enough for me as a general thing; but the desire to be a steamboatman kept intruding, nevertheless. I first wanted to be a cabin-boy, so that I could come out with a white apron on and shake a table-cloth over the side, where all my old comrades could see me; later I thought I would rather

be the deck-hand who stood 011 the end of the stagc-plank with the coil of rope in his hand, because he was particularly conspicuous. But these were only day-dreams,— they were too heavenly to be contemplated as real possibilities. By and by one of our boys went away. He was not heard of for a long time. At last he turned up as apprentice the town drunkard asleep once more.” engineer or “ striker ” on a steamboat.

This thing shook the bottom out of all my Sunday-school teachings. That boy had been notoriously worldly, and I just the reverse; yet he was exalted to this eminence, and I left in obscurity and misery. There w'as nothing generous about this fellow in his greatness. He would always manage to have a rusty bolt to scrub while his boat tarried at our town, and he would sit on the inside guard and scrub

A CUB ENGINEER.    6T

it, where we could all see him and envy him and loathe him. And whenever his boat was laid up he would come home and swell around the town in his blackest and greasiest clothes, so that nobody could help remembering that he was a steamboatman; and he used all sorts of steamboat technicalities in his talk, as if he were so used to them that he forgot common people could not understand them. He would speak of the “ labboard ” side of a horse in an easy, natural way that would make one wish he was dead. And he was always talking about “ St. Looy ” like an old citizen ; he would refer casually to occasions when he “ was coming down Fourth Street,” or when he was “ passing by the Planter’s House,” or when there was a fire and lie took a turn on the brakes of “ the old Big Missouri;” and then he would go on and lie about how many towns the size of ours were burned down there that day. Two or three of the boys had long been persons of consideration among us because they had been to St. Louis once and had a vague general knowledge of its wonders, but the day of their glory was over now. They lapsed into a humble silence, and learned to disappear when the ruthless “ cub ”- engineer approached. This fellow had money, too, and hair oil. Also an ignorant silver watch and a showy brass watch chain. He wore a leather belt and used no suspenders. If ever a youth was cordially admired and hated by his comrades, this one was. No girl could withstand his charms. He “ cut out” every boy in the village. When his boat blew up at last, it diffused a tranquil contentment among us such as we had not known for months. But when he came home the next week, alive, renowned, and -appeared in church all battered up and bandaged, a shining hero, stared at and wondered over by everybody, it seemed to us that the partiality of Providence for an undeserving reptile had reached a point where it was open to criticism.

This creature’s career could produce but one result, and it speedily followed. Boy after boy managed to get on the

'68    THE STEAMBOAT FEVER.

river. The minister’s son became an engineer. The doctor’s and the post-master’s sons became “ mud clerks; ” the wholesale liquor dealer’s son became a bar-keeper on a boat;

four sons of the chief merchant, and two sons of the county judge, became pilots. Pilot was the grandest position of all. The pilot, even in those days of trivial wages, had a princely salary — from a hundred and fifty to two hundred and fifty dollars a month, and no board to pay. Two months of his wages would pay a preacher’s salary for a year. Now some of us were left disconsolate. We could not get on the river — at least our parents would not let us. So by and by I

A SHINING TIEKO.

ran    away.    I    said    I never    would come home again till I was

a    pilot    and    could    come    in    glory.    But    somehow I could not

manage it. I went meekly aboard a few of the boats that lay packed together like sardines at the long St. Louis

A RUNAWAY.    69

wharf, and very humbly inquired for the pilots, but got only a cold shoulder and short words from mates and clerks. I had to make the best of this sort of treatment for the time being, but I had comforting day-dreams of a future when I should be a great and honored pilot, with plenty of money, and could kill some of these mates and clerks and pay for them.

I III

CHAPTER V.

I WANT TO BE A CUB-PILOT.

ONTHS afterward the hope within me struggled to

a reluctant death, and I found myself without an ambition. But I was ashamed to go home. I was in Cincinnati, and I set to work to map out a new career. I had been reading about the recent exploration of the river Amazon by an expedition sent out by our government. It was said that the expedition, owing to difficulties, had not thoroughly explored a part of the country lying about the head-waters, some four thousand miles from the mouth of the river. It was only about fifteen hundred miles from Cincinnati to New Orleans, where I could doubtless get a ship. I had thirty dollars left; I would go and complete the exploration of the Amazon. This was all the thought I gave to the subject. I never was great in matters of detail. I packed my valise, and took passage on an ancient tub called the “ Paul Jones,” for New Orleans. For the sum of sixteen dollars I had the scarred and tarnished splendors of “ her ” main saloon principally to myself, for she was not a creature to attract the eye of wiser travellers.

When we presently got under way and went poking down the broad Ohio, I became a new being, and the subject of my own admiration. I was a traveller ! A word never had tasted so good in my mouth before. I had an exultant sense of being bound for mysterious lands and distant climes which 1 never have felt in so uplifting a degree since. I was in such a glorified condition that all ignoble feelings departed out of

A MIGHTY TRAVELLED.    71

me, and I was able to look down and pity the untravelled with a compassion that had hardly a trace of contempt in it. Still, when we stopped at villages and wood-yards, I coidd not help lolling carelessly upon the railings of the boiler deck to enjoy the envy of the country boys on the bank. If they did not seem to discover me, I presently sneezed to attract their attention, or moved to a position where they could not help seeing me. And as soon as I knew they saw me I gaped and stretched, and gave other signs of being mightily bored with travelling.

I kept my hat off all the time, and stayed where the wind and the sun could strike me, because I wanted to get the bronzed and weather-beaten look of an old traveller.

Before the second day was half gone,    “bored    with    travelling.”

I experienced a joy

which filled me with the purest gratitude; for I saw that the skin had begun to blister and peel off my face and neck. I wished that the boys and girls at home could see me now.

We reached Louisville in time — at least the neighborhood of it. We stuck hard and fast on the rocks in the middle of the river, and lay there four days. I was now beginning to

72    THE MATE ASTOUNDED.

feel a strong sense of being a part of the boat’s family, a sort of infant son to the captain and younger brother to the officers. There is no estimating the pride I took in this grandeur, or the affection that began to swell and grow in me for those people. I could not know how the lordly steamboat-man scorns that sort of presumption in a mere landsman. I particularly longed to acquire the least trifle of notice from the big stormy mate, and I was on the alert for an opportunity to do him a service to that end. It came at last. The riotous powwow of setting a spar was going on down on the forecastle, and I went down there and stood around in the way — or mostly skipping out of it — till the mate suddenly roared a general order for somebody to bring him a capstan bar. I sprang to his side and said: “Tell me where it is — I ’11 fetch it! ”

If a rag-picker had offered to do a diplomatic service for the Emperor of Eussia, the monarch could not have been more astounded than the mate was. He even stopped swearing. He stood and stared down at me. It took him ten seconds to scrape his disjointed remains together again. Then he said impressively : “ Well, if this don’t beat hell! ” and turned to his work with the air of a man who had been confronted with a problem too abstruse for solution.

I crept away, and courted solitude for the rest of the day. I did not go to dinner; I stayed away from supper until everybody else had finished. I did not feel so much like a member of the boat’s family now as before. However, my spirits returned, in instalments, as we pursued our way down the river. I was sorry I hated the mate so, because it was not in (young) human nature not to admire him. He was huge and muscular, his face was bearded and whiskered all over; he had a red woman and a blue woman tattooed on his right arm, — one on each side of a blue anchor with a red rope to it; and in the matter of profanity he was sublime. When he was getting out cargo at a landing, I was always where I could see and hear. He felt all the


SUBLIME PROFANITY.    75

majesty of his great position, and made the world feel it, too. When he gave even the simplest order, he discharged it like a blast of lightning, and sent a long, reverberating peal of profanity thundering after it. I could not help contrasting the way in which the average

SUBLIME IN PROFANITY.

If the landsman should wish the gang-plank moved a foot farther forward, he would probably say: “James, or William, one of you push that plank forward, please; ” but put the mate in his place, and he would roar out: “ Here, now, start that gang-plank for’ard ! Lively, now ! What’’re you about! Snatch it! snatch it! There! there ! Aft again !

76    A NEW EMEND.

aft again! Don’t you hear me? Dash it to dash! are you going to sleep over it!    ’ Vast heaving. ’Vast heaving, I tell

you! Going to heave it clear astern ? WHERE ’re you going with that barrel! forward with it ’fore I make you swallow it, you dash-dash-dash-e?as/iec7 split between a tired mud-turtle and a crippled hearse-horse ! ”

I wished I could talk like that.

When the soreness of my adventure with the mate had somewhat worn off, I began timidly to make up to the humblest official connected with the boat — the night watchman. He snubbed my advances at first, but I presently ventured to offer him a new chalk pipe, and that softened him. So he allowed me to sit with him by the big bell 011 the hurricane deck, and in time he melted into conversation. He could not well have helped it, I hung with such homage on his words and so plainly showed that I felt honored by his notice. He told me the names of dim capes and shadowy islands as we glided by them in the solemnity of the night, under the winking stars, and by and by got to talking about himself. He seemed over-sentimental for a man whose salary was six dollars a week — 01* rather he might have seemed so to an older person than I. But I drank in his words hungrily, and with a faith that might have moved mountains if it had been applied judiciously. What was it to me that he was soiled and seedy and fragrant with gin ? What was it to me that his grammar was bad, his construction worse, and his profanity so void of art that it was an element of 'weakness rather than strength in his conversation? He was a wronged man, a man who had seen trouble, and that was enough for me. As he mellowed into his plaintive history •his tears dripped upon the lantern in his lap, and I cried, too, from sympathy. He said he was the son of an English nobleman — either an earl or an alderman, he could not remember which, but believed was both; his father, the nobleman, loved him, but his mother hated him from the cradle ; and so while he was still a little boy he was sent to “ one of

A SCION OF NOBILITY.    77

them old, ancient colleges ” — he couldn’t remember which ; and by and by his father died and his mother seized the property and “shook” him, as he phrased it. After his mother shook him,    members of the

nobility with whom he    was acquainted

used their influence to jj    |L|    | j get him the

position    11    j1!___ !\    of“lob-

HIS TEARS DRIPPED UPON THE LANTERN.

lolly-boy in a ship; ” and from that point my watchman threw off all trammels of date and locality and branched out into a narrative that bristled all along with incredible adventures ; a narrative that was so reeking with bloodshed and so crammed with hair-breadth escapes and the most engaging and unconscious personal villanies, that I sat speechless, enjoying, shuddering, wondering, worshipping.

78    SADLY    UNDECEIVED.

It was a sore blight to find out afterwards that he was a low, vulgar, ignorant, sentimental, half-witted humbug, an untravelled native of the wilds of Illinois, who had absorbed wildcat literature and appropriated its marvels, until in time he had woven odds and ends of the mess into this yarn, and then gone on telling it to fledglings like me, until he had come to believe it himself.

CHAPTER VI.

A CUB-PILOT’S EXPERIENCE.

HAT with lying on the rocks four days at Louisville,

and some other delays, the poor old “ Paul Jones ” fooled away about two weeks in making the voyage from Cincinnati to New Orleans. This gave me a chance to get acquainted with one of the pilots, and he taught me how to steer the boat, and thus made the fascination of river life more potent than ever for me.

It also gave me a chance to get acquainted with a youth who had taken deck passage — more’s the pity; for he easily borrowed six dollars of me on a promise to return to the boat and pay it back to me the day after we should arrive. But he probably died or forgot, for he never came. It was doubtless the former, since he had said his parents were wealthy, and he only travelled deck passage because it was cooler.1

I soon discovered two things. One was that a vessel would not be likely to sail for the mouth of the Amazon under ten • or twelve years; and the other was that the nine or ten dollars still left in my pocket would not suffice for so imposing an exploration as I had planned, even if I could afford to wait for a ship. Therefore it. followed that I must contrive a new career. The u Paul Jones ” was now bound for St. Louis. I planned a siege against my pilot, and at the end of three hard days he surrendered. He agreed to teach me the Mississippi River from New Orleans to St. Louis for five

1 “ Deck ” passage — i. e., steerage passage.

80    BESIEGING    THE    PILOT.

I

hundred dollars, payable out of the first wages I should receive after graduating. I entered upon the small enterprise of “ learning” twelve or thirteen hundred miles of the great Mississippi River with the easy confidence of my time of life. If I had    really known

what I was about    s' - -—------------- to require of my

not have had the courage to begin. I supposed that all a pilot had to do was to keep his boat in the river, and I did not consider that that could be much of a trick, since it was so wide.

The boat backed out from New Orleans at four in the afternoon, and it was “our watch ” until eight. Mr. chief, “ straight-up,” plowed her “he easily borrowed six dollars.” along past the sterns of

the other boats that lay at the Levee, and then said, “ Here, take her; shave those steamships as close as you’d peel an apple.” I took the wheel, and my heart-beat fluttered up into the hundreds; for it seemed to me that we were about to scrape the side

CLOSE SHAVING.    81

off every ship in the line, we were so close. I held my breath and began to claw the boat away from the danger; and I had my own opinion of the pilot who had known no better than to get us into such peril, but I was too wise to express it. In half a minute I had a wide margin of safety intervening between the “ Paul Jones ” and the ships ; and within ten seconds more I was set aside in disgrace, and Mr. Bixby was going into danger again and flaying me alive with abuse of my cowardice.

“besieging the pilot.”

I was stung, but I was obliged to admire the easy confidence with which my chief loafed from side to side of his wheel, and trimmed the ships so closely that disaster seemed ceaselessly imminent.

When he had cooled a little he told me that the easy water was close ashore and the current outside, and therefore we must hug the bank, up-stream, to get the benefit of the former, and stay well out, down-stream, to take advantage of the latter. In my own mind I resolved to be a downstream pilot and leave the up-streaming to people dead to prudence.

Now and then Mr. Bixby called my attention to certain things. Said he, “ This is Six-Mile Point.” I assented. It was pleasant enough information, but I could not see the

82    NINE-MILE POINT.

bearing of it. I was not conscious that it was a matter of any interest to me. Another time he said, “ This is Nine-Mile Point.” Later he said, “ This is Twelve-Mile Point.” They were all about level with the water’s edge; they all looked about alike to me; they were monotonously unpic-turesque. I hoped Mr. Bixby would change the subject.

But no; he would


say: “The l!|||l|jn slack water L ‘I ends here, abreast this bunch of China-trees ; now we cross over.” So he crossed over. He gave me

the wheel once or twice, but I had no luck. I either came near chipping off the edge of a sugar plantation, or I yawed too far from shore, and so dropped back into disgrace again and got abused.

The watch was ended at last, and we took supper and went to bed. At midnight the glare of a lantern shone in my eyes, and the night watchman said : —

DON’T BOTHER ME.    83

“ Come ! turn out! ”

And then lie left. 1 could not understand this extraordinary procedure; so I presently gave up trying to, and dozed off to sleep. Pretty soon the watchman was back again, and this time he was gruff. I was annoyed. I said: —

“ What do you want to come

bothering around here in the middle of the night for ? Now as like as not I ’11 not get to sleep again to-night.”

The watchman said : —

“ Well, if this an’t good, I’m blest.”

The “ oflf-watch ” was just turning in, and I heard some brutal laughter from them, and such remarks as “ Hello, watchman! an’t the new cub turned out yet? He’s delicate, likely. Give him some sugar in a rag and send for the chambermaid to sing rock-a-by-baby to him.”

About this time Hr. Bixbv appeared on the scene. Something like a minute later I was climbing the pilot-house steps with some of my clothes on and the rest in my arms. Mr. Bixby was close behind, commenting. Here was some-

84    A NIGHT WATCH.

thing fresh — this thing of getting up in the middle of the night to go to work. It was a detail in piloting that had never occurred to me at all. I knew that boats ran all

night, but somehow I had never happened to reflect that somebody had to get up out of a warm bed to run them. I began to fear that piloting was not quite so romantic as I had imagined it was; there was something very real and work-like about this new phase of it.

A MINUTE LATER.

It was a rather dingy night, although a fair number of stars were out. The big mate was at the wheel, and he had the old tub pointed at a star and was holding her straight up the middle of the river. The shores on either hand were not much more than half a mile apart, but they seemed wonderfully far away and ever so vague and indistinct. The mate said: -—

“We’ve got to land at Jones’s plantation, sir.” The vengeful spirit in me exulted. I said to myself, I wish you joy of your job, Mr. Bixby; you ’11 have a good time finding Mr.-Jones’s plantation such a night as this; and I hope you never will find it as long as you live.

JONES’S PLANTATION.    85

Mr. Bixby said to the mate : —

“ Upper end of the plantation, or the lower ? ”

“ Upper.”

“ I can’t do it. The stumps there are out of water at this stage. It’s no great distance to the lower, and yon ’11 have to get along with that.”

All right, sir. If Jones don’t like it he ’11 have to lump it, I reckon.”

And then the mate left. My exultation began to cool and my wonder to come up. Here was a man who not only proposed to find this plantation on such a night, but to find either end of it you preferred. I dreadfully wanted to ask a question, but I was carrying about as many short answers as my cargo-room would admit of, so 1 held my peace. All I desired to ask Mr. Bixby was the simple question whether he was ass enough to really imagine he was going to find that plantation on a night when all plantations were exactly alike and all the same color. But I held in. I used to have fine inspirations of prudence in those days.

Mr. Bixby made for the shore and soon was scraping it, just the same as if it had been daylight. And not only that, but singing —

“Eather in heaven, the day is declining,” etc.

It seemed to me that I had put my life in the keeping of a peculiarly reckless outcast. Presently he turned on me and said: —

“What’s the name of the first point above New Orleans?” I was gratified to be able to answer promptly, and I did. I said I did n’t know.

“ Don’t know

This manner jolted me. I was down at the foot again, in a moment. But I had to say just what I had said before.

“Well, you’re a smart one,” said Mr. Bixby. “What’s the name of the next point ? ”

Once more I didn’t know.

86    THE CATECHISM.

“ Well, this beats anything. Tell me the name of any point or place I told you.”

I studied a while and decided that I could n’t.

“ Look here ! What do you start out from, above Twelve-Mile Point, to cross over ? ”

“I — I— don’t know.”

“You—you—don’t know?” mimicking my drawling man-

“By the great Caesar’s ghost, I believe you! You’re the stupidest dunderhead I ever saw or ever heard of, so help me Moses ! The idea of you being a pilot — you! Why, you don’t know enough to pilot a cow down a lane.”

Oh, but his wrath was up ! He was a nervous man, and he shuffled from one side of his wheel to the other as if the

THEY TALK BACK.    87

floor was hot. He would boil a while to himself, and then overflow and scald me again.

“ Look here ! What do you suppose I told you the names of those points for ? ”

I tremblingly considered a moment, and then the devil of temptation provoked me to say: —

“ Well — to — to — be entertaining, I thought.”

This was a red rag to the bull. He raged and stormed so (he was crossing the river at the time) that I judge it made him blind, because he ran over the steering-oar of a trading-scow. Of course the traders sent up a volley of red-hot profanity.

GET A MEMORANDUM BOOK.”

Never was a man so grateful as Mr. Bixby was: because he was brim full, and here were subjects who would talk back.

He threw open a window, thrust his head out, and such an irruption followed as I never had heard before. The fainter and farther away the scowmen’s curses drifted, the higher Mr. Bixby lifted his voice and the weightier his adjectives grew. When he closed the window he was empty. You could have drawn a seine through his system and not caught curses enough to disturb your mother with. Presently he said to me in the gentlest way: —

“ My boy, you must get a little memorandum-book, and every time I tell you a thing, put it down right away. There’s only one way to be a pilot, and that is to get this

88.    A TOUGH ALPHABET.

entire river. by heart. You have to know it just like ABC.”

That was a dismal revelation to. me ; for my memory was never loaded with anything but blank cartridges. However, I did not feel discouraged long. I judged that it was best to make some allowances, for doubtless Mr. Bixby was “ stretching.” Presently he pulled a rope and struck a few strokes on the big bell. The stars were all gone now, and the night was as black as ink. I could hear the wheels churn along the bank, but I was not entirely certain that I could see the shore. The voice of the invisible watchman called up from the hurricane deck : —

“ What’s this, sir ? ”

“ Jones’s plantation.”

I said to myself, I wish I might venture to offer a small bet that it is n’t. But I did not chirp. I only waited to see. Mr. Bixby handled the engine bells, and in due time the boat’s nose came to the land, a torch glowed from the forecastle, a man skipped ashore, a darky’s voice on the bank said, “Gimme de k’yarpet-bag, Mars’ Jones,” and the next moment we were standing up the river again, all serene. I reflected deeply a while, and then said, — but not aloud, — Well, the finding of that plantation was the luckiest accident that ever happened; but it could n’t happen again in a hundred years. And I fully believed it was an acci-' dent, too.

By the time we had gone seven or eight hundred miles up the river, I had learned to be a tolerably plucky upstream steersman, in daylight, and before we reached St. Louis I had made a trifle of progress in night-work, but only a trifle. I had a note-book that fairly bristled with the names of towns, “ points,” bars, islands, bends, reaches, etc.; but the information was to be found only in the note-book — none of it was in my head. It made my heart ache to think I had only got half of the river set down; for as our watch was four hours off and four hours on, day and night, there

MY NEXT TRIP.    89

was a long four-hoar gap in my book for every time I had slept since the voyage began.

My chief was presently hired to go on a big New Orleans


boat, and I packed my satchel and went with him. She was a grand affair. When I stood in her pilot-house I was so far above the water that I seemed perched on a mountain; and her “ a sumptuous temple.” decks stretched so far away, fore and aft, below me, that I wondered how I could ever have considered the little “Paul Jones” a large craft. There were other differences, too. The “ Paul Jones’s” pilot-house was a cheap, dingy, battered rattle-trap,

90    PALATIAL QUARTERS.

cramped for room: but here was a sumptuous glass temple; room enough to have a dance in ; showy red and gold window-curtains ; an imposing sofa ; leather cushions and a back to the high bench where visiting pilots sit, to spin yarns and “ look at the river ; ” bright, fanciful “ cuspadores ” instead of a broad wooden box filled.with sawdust; nice new oilcloth on the floor; a hospitable big stove for winter ; a wheel as high as my head, costly with inlaid work ; a wire tillcr-rope; bright brass knobs for the bells; and a tidy, white-aproned, black “ texas-tender,” to bring up tarts and ices and coffee during mid-watch, day and night. Now this was “ something like;” and so I began to take heart once more to believe that piloting.was a romantic sort of occupation after all. The moment we were under way 1 began to prowl about the great steamer and fill myself with joy. She was as clean and as dainty as a drawing-room; when I looked down her long, gilded saloon, it was like gazing through a splendid tunnel; she had an oil-picturc, by some gifted sign-painter, on every state-room door ; she glittered with no end of prism-fringed chandeliers; the clerk’s office was elegant, the bar was marvellous, and the bar-keepcr had been bar-bered and upholstered at incredible cost. The boiler deck {i.e., the second story of the boat, so to speak), was as spacious as a church, it seemed to me; so with the forecastle; and there was no pitiful handful of deck-hands, firemen, and roust-abouts down there, but a whole battalion of men. The fires were fiercely glaring from a long row of furnaces, and over them were eight huge boilers! This was unutterable pomp. The mighty engines — but enough of this. I had never felt so fine before. And when 1 found that the regiment of natty servants respectfully “ sir’d” me, my satisfaction was complete.

CHAPTER VII.

A DARING DEED.

WHEN I returned to the pilot-liouse St. Louis was gone and I was lost. Here was a piece of river which was all down in my book, but I could make neither head nor tail of it: you understand, it was turned around. I had seen it when coming up-stream, but I had never faced about to see how it looked when it was behind me. My heart broke again, for it was plain that 1 had got to learn this troublesome river both ways.

The pilot-house was full of pilots, going down to “ look at the river.” What is called the “ upper river ” (the two hundred miles between St. Louis and Cairo, where the Ohio comes in) was low; and the Mississippi changes its channel so constantly that the pilots, used to always find it necessary to run down to Cairo to take a fresh look, when their boats were to lie in port a week ; that is, when the water was at a low stage. .A deal of this “ looking at the river” was done by poor fellows who seldom had a berth, and whose only hope of getting one lay in their being always freshly posted and therefore ready to drop into the shoes of some reputable pilot, for a single trip, on account of such pilot’s sudden illness, or some other necessity. And a good many of them constantly ran up and down inspecting the river, not because they ever really hoped to get a berth, but because (they being guests of the boat) it was cheaper to “ look at the river” than stay ashore and pay board. In time these fellows grew dainty in their tastes, and only infested boats that had an established reputation for setting good tables.

92    RIVER INSPECTORS.

All visiting pilots were useful, for they were always ready and willing, winter or summer, night or day, to go out in the yawl and help buoy the channel or assist the boat’s pilots in any way they could. They were likewise welcome

as they talk only about the river they are always understood and are always interesting. Your true pilot cares nothing about anything 011 earth but the river,-and his pride in his occupation surpasses the pride of kings.

We had a fine company of these river-inspectors along, this trip. There were eight or ten; and there was abundance of room for them in our great pilot-house. Two or three of them wore polished silk hats, elaborate shirt-fronts, diamond breastpins, kid gloves, and patent-leather boots. They were choice in their English, and bore themselves with a dignity proper to men of solid means and prodigious reputation as pilots. The others were more or less loosely clad, and wore upon their heads tall felt cones that were suggestive of the days of the Commonwealth.

I was a cipher in this august company, and felt subdued, not to say torpid. I was not even of sufficient consequence to assist at the wheel when it was necessary to put the tiller

TOO MUCH WATER.    93

hard down in a hurry ; the guest that stood nearest did that when occasion required — and this was pretty much all the time, because of the crookedness of the channel and the scant water. I stood in a corner; and the talk I listened to took the hope all out of me. One visitor said to another:'—

“ Jim, how did you run Plum Point, coming up ? ”

“It was in the night, there, and I ran it the way one of the boys on the ‘Diana’ told me; started out about fifty yards above the wood pile on the false point, and held on the cabin under Plum Point till I raised the reef— quarter less twain — then straightened up for the middle bar till I got well abreast the old one-limbed cotton-wood in the bend, then got my stern on the cotton-wood and head on the low place above , the point, and came through a-booming—nine and a half.”

“ Pretty square crossing, an’t it ? ”

“ Yes, but the upper bar’s working down fast.”

Another pilot spoke up and said: —

“I had better water than that, and ran it lower down ; started out from the false point — mark twain — raised the second reef abreast the big snag in the bend, and had quarter less twain.”

One of the gorgeous ones remarked:

“ I don’t want to find fault with your leadsmen, but that’s :a good deal of water for Plum Point, it seems to me.”

There was an approving nod all around as this quiet snub dropped on the boaster and “ settled ” him. And so they went on talk-talk-talking. Meantime, the thing that was running in my mind was, “ Now if my ears hear aright, I have not only to get the names of all the towns and islands and bends, and so 011, by heart, but I must even get up a warm personal acquaintanceship with every old snag and one-limbed cotton-wood and obscure wood pile that ornaments the banks of this river for twelve hundred miles; and more than that, I must actually know where these tilings

94    DISCOURAGED.

are in the dark, unless these guests are gifted with eyes that can pierce through two miles of solid blackness; I wish the piloting business was in Jericho and I had never thought of it.”

At dusk Mr. Bixby tapped the big bell three times (the signal to land), and the captain emerged from his drawingroom in the forward end of the texas, and looked up inquiringly. Mr. Bixby said : —

“We will lay up here all night, captain.”

“ Very well, sir.”

That was all. The boat came to shore and was tied up for the night. It seemed to me a fine thing that the pilot could do as he pleased, without asking so grand a captain’s permission.

I took my supper and went immediately to bed, discouraged by my day’s observations and experiences. My late voyage’s note-booking was but a confusion of meaningless names. It had tangled me all up in a knot every time I had looked at it in the daytime. I now hoped for respite in sleep; but no, it revelled all through my head till sunrise again, a frantic and tireless nightmare.

Next morning I felt pretty rusty and low-spirited. We went booming along, taking a good many chances, for we were anxious to “ get out of the river ” (as getting out to Cairo was called) before night should overtake us. But Mr. Bixby’s partner, the other pilot, presently grounded the boat, * and we lost so much time getting her off that it was plain the darkness would overtake us a good long way above the mouth. This was a great misfortune, especially to certain

HAT ISLAND CROSSING.    95

of our visiting pilots, whose boats would have to wait for their return, no matter how long that might be. It sobered the pilot-house talk a good deal. Coming up-stream, pilots did not mind low water or any kind of darkness; nothing stopped them but fog. But down-stream work was different; a boat was too nearly helpless, with a stiff current pushing behind her; so it was not customary to run down-stream at night in low water.

There seemed to be one small hope, however: if we could get through the intricate and dangerous Hat Island crossing before night, we could venture the rest, for we would'have plainer sailing and better water. But it would be insanity to attempt Hat Island at night. So there was a deal of looking at watches all the rest of the day, and a constant ciphering upon the speed we were making ; Hat Island was the eternal subject; sometimes hope was high and sometimes we were delayed in a bad crossing, and down it went again. For hours all hands lay under the burden of this suppressed excitement; it was even communicated to me, and I got to feeling so solicitous about Hat Island, and under such an awful pressure of responsibility, that I wished I might have five minutes on shore to draw a good, full, relieving breath, and start over again. We were standing no regular watches. Each of our pilots ran such portions of the river as he had run when coming up-stream, because of his greater familiarity with it; but both remained in the pilot-house constantly.

An hour before sunset, Mr. Bixby took the wheel and Mr.

W stepped aside. For the next thirty minutes every

man held his watch in his hand and was restless, silent, and uneasy. At last somebody said, with a doomful sigh, —

“ Well yonder’s Hat Island — and we can’t make it.”

All the watches closed with a snap, everybody sighed and muttered something about its being “too bad, too bad — ah, if we could only have got here half an hour sooner! ” and the place was thick with the atmosphere of disappointment. Some started to go out, but loitered, hearing no bell-tap to

96    AN EXCITING SCENE.

land. The sun dipped behind the horizon, the boat went on. Inquiring looks passed from one guest to another; and one who had his hand on the door-knob and had turned it, waited, then presently took away his hand and let the knob turn back again. We bore steadily down the bend. More

INSENSIBLY THEY DREW TOGETHER.

looks were exchanged, and nods of surprised admiration — but no words. Insensibly the men drew together behind Mr. Bixby,as the sky darkened and one or two dim stars came out. The dead silence and sense of waiting became oppressive. Mr. Bixby pulled the cord, and two deep, mellow notes from the big bell floated off on the night. Then a pause, and one more note was struck. The watchman’s voice followed, from the hurricane deck: — “Labboard lead, there! Stabboard lead!”

The cries of the leadsmen began to rise out of the distance, and were gruffly repeated by the word-passers on the hurricane deck.

“M-a-r-k three! .... M-a-r-k three! .... Quarter-less-

WILL HE MAKE IT 1    97

three! .... Half twain! .... Quarter twain! .... M-a-r-k twain! .... Quarter-less” —

Mr. Bixby pulled two bell-ropes, and was answered by faint jinglings far below in the engine room, and our speed slackened. The steam began to whistle through the gauge-cocks. The cries of the leadsmen went on—and it is a weird sound, always, in the night. Every pilot in the lot was watching now, with fixed eyes, and talking under his breath. Nobody was calm and easy but Mr. Bixby. He would put his wheel down and stand on a spoke, and as the steamer swung into her (to me) utterly invisible marks — for we seemed to be in the midst of a wide and gloomy sea —he would meet and fasten her there. Out of the murmur of half-audible talk, one caught a coherent sentence now and then — such as:

“There; she’s over the first reef all right!”

After a pause, another subdued voice: —

“Her stern’s coming down just exactly right, by Greorge!” “Now she’s in the marks; over she goes!”

Somebody else muttered: —

“ Oh, it was done beautiful—beautiful/”

Now the engines were stopped altogether, and we drifted with the current. Not that I could see the boat drift, for I could not, the stars being all gone by this time. This drifting was the dismalest work; it held one’s heart still. Presently I discovered a blacker gloom than that which surrounded us. It was the head of the island. We were closing right down upon it. We entered its deeper shadow, and so imminent seemed the peril that I was likely to suffocate ; and I had the strongest impulse to do something, anything, to save the vessel. But still Mr. Bixby stood by his wheel, silent, intent as a cat, and all the pilots stood shoulder to shoulder at his back.

“She’ll not make it!” somebody whispered.

The water grew shoaler and shoaler, by the leadsman’s cries, till it was down to —

7

98    “OVER SHE GOES!”

“Eight-and-a-half! .... E-i-g-h-t feet! .... E-i-g-h-t feet! . . . . Seven-and” —

Mr. Bixby said warningly through his speaking tube to

the engineer: —

“ Stand by, now! ”

STAND BY, NOW !

“Aye-aye, sir!” “ Seven-and-a-half! Seven feet! /S&-and”—

We touched bottom! Instant-ly Mr. Bixby set a lot of bells ring-ing, shouted through the tube, “Now, let lier have it — every ounce you’ve got!” then to his partner, “ Put her hard down! snatch her! snatch her!” The boat rasped and ground her way through the sand, hung upon the apex of disaster a single tremendous instant, and then over she went! And such a shout as went up at Mr. Bixby’s back never loosened the roof of a pilothouse before!

There was no more trouble after that. Mr. Bixby was a hero that night; and it was some little time, too, before his exploit ceased to be talked about by river men.

Fully to realize the marvellous precision required in laying the great steamer in her marks in that murky waste of water, one should know that not only must she pick her




A LIGHTNING PILOT.    101

intricate way through snags and blind reefs, and then shave the head of the island so closely as to brush the overhanging foliage with her stern, but at one place she must pass almost within arm’s reach of a sunken and invisible wreck that would snatch the hull timbers from under her if she should strike it, and destroy a quarter of a million dollars’ worth of steamboat and cargo in five minutes, and maybe a hundred and fifty human lives into the bargain.

The last remark I heard that night was a compliment to Mr. Bixby, uttered in soliloquy and with unction by one of our guests. He said : —

“ By the Shadow of Death, but he’s a lightning pilot! ”

CHAPTER VIII.

PERPLEXING LESSONS.

AT the end of what seemed a tedious while, I had managed to pack my head full of islands, towns, bars, “ points,” and bends; and a curiously inanimate mass of lumber it was, too. However, inasmuch as I could shut

my eyes and reel off a good long string of these names without leaving out more than ten miles of river in every fifty, I began to feel that I could take a boat down to New Orleans if I

LOADING AND FIRING.’

could make her skip those little gaps. But of course my complacency could hardly get start enough to lift my nose a trifle into the air, before Mr. Bixby would think of some-

THINGS TO BE LEARNED.    108

thing to fetch it down again. One day lie turned on me suddenly with this settler : —

“ What is the shape of Walnut Bend He might as well have asked me my grandmother’s opinion of protoplasm. I reflected'respectfully, and then said I did n’t know it had any particular shape. . My gunpowdery chief went off with a bang, of course, and then 'went on loading and firing until he was out of adjectives.. ..

I had learned long ago that he only carried just' so many rounds of ammunition, and was sure to subside into a very placable and even remorseful old smooth-bore as soon as they were all gone. That word “old” is merely affectionate; he was not more than thirty-four. I waited. By and by he said,—

“ My boy, you’ve got to know the shape of the river perfectly. It is all there is left to steer by on a very dark night. Everything else is blotted out and gone. But mind you, it has n’t; the same shape in the night that it has in the day-time.”

“ How on earth am I ever going to learn it, then ? ”

“ How do you follow a hall at home in the dark ? Because you know the shape of it. You can’t see it.”

“ Do you mean to say that I’ve got to know all the million trifling variations of shape in the banks of this interminable river as well as I know the shape of the front hall at home?” “ On my honor, you’ve got to know them better than any man ever did know the shapes of the halls in his own house.” “ I wish I was dead ! ”

“ Now I don’t want to discourage you, but ” —

“Well, pile it on me; I might as well have it now as another time.”

“You see, this has got to be learned; there isn’t any getting around it. A clear starlight night throws such heavy shadows that if you did n’t know the shape of a shore perfectly you would claw away from every bunch of timber, because you would take the black shadow of. it for a solid

104    SHAPES AND COLORS.

cape; and you see you would be getting scared to death every fifteen minutes by the watch. You would be fifty yards from shore all the time'when you. ought to be within fifty feet of it. You can’t see a snag in one of those shadows, but you know exactly where it is, and the shape of the river tells you when you are coming to it. Then there’s your pitch-dark night; the river is a very different shape on a pitch-dark night from what it is on a starlight night. All shores seem to be straight lines, then, and mighty dim ones, too; and you’d run them for straight .lines only you know better. You boldly drive your boat right into what seems to be a solid, straight wall (you knowing very well that in reality there is a curve there), and that wall falls back and makes way for you. Then there ’s your gray mist. You take a night when there ’s one of these grisly, drizzly, gray mists, and tlien there is n’t any particular shape to a shore. A gray mist would tangle the head of the oldest man that ever lived. Well, then, different kinds of moonlight change the shape of the river in different ways. You see ” —

“ Oh, don’t say any more, please! Have I got to learn the shape of the river according to all these five hundred thousand different ways ? If I tried to carry all that cargo in my head it would make me stoop-shouldered.”

No! you only learn the shape of the river; and you learn it with such absolute certainty that you can always steer by the shape that’s in your head, and never mind the one that’s before your eyes.”

“Very well, I’ll try it; but after I have learned it can I depend on it ? Will it keep the same form and not go fooling around ? ”

Before Mr. Bixby could answer, Mr. W   came in to

take the watch, and he said,—

u Bixby, you ’11 have to look out for President’s Island and all that country clear away up above the Old Hen and Chickens. The banks are caving and the shape of the shores changing like everything. Why, you would n’t know the

ETERNAL CHANGES.    105

point above 40. You can go up inside the old sycamore snag, now.” 1

“changing watch.”

So that question was answered. Here were leagues of shore changing shape. My spirits were down in the mud again. Two things seemed pretty apparent to me. One was, that in order to be a pilot a man had got to learn more than any one man ought to be allowed to know; and the other was, that he must learn it all over again in a different way every twenty-four hours.

That night we had the watch until twelve. Now it was an

1 It may not be necessary, but still it can do no harm to explain that “inside” means between the snag and the shore. — M. T.

106    THE UNPARDONABLE SIN.

ancient river custom for the two pilots to chat a bit when the watch changed. While the relieving pilot put 011 his gloves and lit his cigar, his partner, the retiring pilot, would say something like this: —

“ I judge the upper bar is making down a little at Hale’s Point; had quarter twain with the lower lead and mark twain1 with the other.”

“Yes, I thought it was making down a little, last trip. Meet any boats ? ”

“ Met one abreast the head of 21, but she was away over hugging the bar, and I could n’t make her out entirely. I took her for the ‘ Sunny South’ — hadn’t any skylights forward of the chimneys.”

' And so on. And as the relieving pilot took the wheel his partner2 would mention that we were in such-and-such a bend, and say we were abreast of such-and-such a man’s wood-yard or plantation. This was courtesy; I supposed it

was necessity. But Mr. W came on watch full twelve

minutes late on this particular night, — a tremendous breach of etiquette; in fact, it is the unpardonable sin among pilots. So Mr. Bixby gave him no greeting whatever, but simply surrendered the wheel and marched out of the pilot-house without a word. I was appalled; it was a villanous night for blackness, we were in a particularly wide and blind part of the river, where there was no shape or substance to anything, and it seemed incredible that Mr. Bixby should have left that poor fellow to kill the boat trying to find out where he was. But I resolved that I would stand by him any way. He should find that he was not wholly friendless. So I stood around, and waited to be asked where we were. But

Mr. W plunged on serenely through the solid firmament

of black cats that stood for an atmosphere, and never opened his mouth. Here is a proud devil, thought I; here is a limb

1

Two fathoms. Quarter twain is 2J fathoms, feet. Mark three is three fathoms.

2

- “ Partner ” is technical for “ the other pilot.”

A VOLUNTEER WATCH.    107

of Satan that would rather send us all to destruction than put himself under obligations to me, because I am not yet one of the salt of the earth and privileged to snub captains and lord it over everything dead and alive in a steamboat. I presently climbed up on the bench ; I did not think it was safe to go to sleep while this lunatic was on watch.

However, I must have gone to sleep in the course of time, because the next thing I was aware of was the fact that day was breaking,

Mr. W-— gone, and Mr. Bixby at the wheel again. So it was four o’clock and all well — but me; I felt like a skinful of dry bones and all ing to ache

of them at once, asked me stayed up confessed that it

Mr. W a benev-

tell him where he was. minutes for the entire ousness of the thing to Mr. Bixby’s system, and

Mr. Bixby what I had there for. I was to do o 1 e n c e, —

It took five p reposter-fi 11 e r into

then I judge it filled him nearly up to the chin ; because he

108    DAMAGE AVOIDED.

paid me a compliment — and not much of a one either. He said,— •

“ Well, taking you by-and-large, you do seem to be more different kinds of an ass than any creature I ever saw before. What did you suppose he wanted to know for ? ”

I said I thought it might be a convenience to him.

“ Convenience ! D-nation ! Did n’t I tell you that a man’s got to know the river in the night the same as he ’d know his own front hall ? ”

“ Well, I can follow the front hall in the dark if I know it is the front hall; but suppose you set me down in the middle of it in the dark and not tell me which hall it is; how am I to know ? ”

“ Well, you’ve got to, on the river ! ”

“All right.' Then I’m glad I never said anything to Mr. W   ”

“ I should say so. Why, he’d have slammed you through the window and utterly ruined a hundred dollars’ worth of window-sash and stuff.”

I was glad this damage had been saved, for it would have made me unpopular with the owners. They always hated anybody who had the name of being careless, and injuring things.

I went to work now to learn the shape of the river; and of all the eluding and ungraspable objects that ever I tried to get mind or hands on, that was the chief. I would fasten my eyes upon a sharp, wooded point that projected far into the river some miles ahead of me, and go to laboriously photographing its shape upon my brain; and just as I was beginning to succeed to my satisfaction, we would draw up toward it and the exasperating thing would begin to melt away and fold back into the bank! If there had been a conspicuous dead tree standing upon the very point of the cape, I would find that tree inconspicuously merged into the general forest, and occupying the middle of a straight shore, when I got abreast of it! No prominent hill would stick to

DISSOLVING VIEWS.    109

its shape long enough for me to make up my mind what its form really was, but it was as dissolving and changeful as if it had been a mountain of butter in the hottest corner of the tropics. Nothing ever had the same shape when I was

up. I mentioned these little difficulties to Mr. Bixby. He said,—

“ That’s the very main virtue of the thing. If the shapes did n’t change every three seconds they would n’t be of any use. Take this place where we are now, for instance. As long as that hill over yonder is only one hill, I can boom right along the way I’m going; but the moment it splits at the top and forms a V, I know I’ve got to scratch to starboard in a hurry, or I ’11 bang this boat’s brains out against a rock; and then the moment one of the prongs of the V

110    A TANGLED WEB.

swings behind the other, I’ve got to waltz to larboard again, or I’ll have a misunderstanding with a snag that would snatch the keelson out of this steamboat as neatly as if it were a sliver in your hand. If that hill did n’t. change its shape on bad nights there would be an awful steamboat grave-yard around here inside of a year.”

It was plain that I had got to learn the shape of the river in all the different ways that could be thought of, — upside down, wrong end first, inside out, fore-and-aft, and “ thort-sliips,” — and then know what to do on gray nights when it hadn’t any shape at all. So I set about it. In the course of time I began to get the best of this knotty lessoii, and my self-complacency moved to the front once more. Mr. Bixby was all fixed, and ready to start it to the rear again. He opened on me after this fashion: —

“ How much water did we have in the middle crossing at Ilole-in-the-Wall, trip before last?”

I considered this an outrage. I said : —

“ Every trip, down and up, the leadsmen are singing through that tangled place for three quarters of an hour on a stretch. How do you reckon I can remember such a mess as that ? ”

“My boy, you’ve got to remember it. You’ve got to remember the exact spot and the exact marks the boat lay in when we had the slioalest water, in every one of the five hundred shoal places between St. Louis and New Orleans; and you mustn’t get the shoal soundings and marks of one trip mixed up with the shoal soundings and marks of another, cither, for they’re not often twice alike. You must keep them separate.”

When I came to myself again, I said,—

“ When I get so that I can do that, I ’11 be able to raise the dead, and then I won’t have to pilot a steamboat to make a living. I want to retire from this business. I want a slush-bucket and a brush; I’m only fit for a roustabout. 1 haven’t got brains enough to be a pilot; and if I had 1

LEARN OR DIE.    Ill

wouldn’t have strength enough to carry them around, unless I went 011 crutches.”

“ Now drop that! When I say I ’11 learn1 a man the river, I mean it. And you can depend on it, I ’11 learn him or kill him.”

1 “ Teach ” is not in the river vocabulary.

CHAPTER IX.

CONTINUED PERPLEXITIES.

HERE was no use in arguing with a person like this.


I promptly put such a strain on my memory that by and by even the shoal water and the countless crossing-marks began to stay with me. But the result w;as just the same. I never could more than get one knotty thing learned before another presented itself. Now I had often seen pilots gazing at the water and pretending to read it as if it were a book; but it was a book that told me nothing. A time came at last, however, when Mr. Bixbv seemed to think me far enough advanced to bear a lesson on water-reading. So he began: —

“Do you see that long slanting line on the face of the water? Now, that’s a reef. Moreover, it’s a bluff reef. There is a solid sand-bar under it that is nearly as straight up and down as the side of a house. There is plenty of water close up to it, but mighty little on top of it. If you were to hit it you would knock the boat’s brains out. Do you see where the line fringes out at the upper end and begins to fade away ? ”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, that is a low place; that is the head of the reef. You can climb over there, and not hurt anything. Cross over, now, and follow along close under the reef — easy water there — not much current.”

I followed the reef along till I approached the fringed end. Then Mr. Bixby said, —

“ Now get ready. Wait till I give the word. She won’t want to mount the reef; a boat hates shoal water. Stand

A REEF AHEAD.    113

by — wait — wait — keep her well in hand. Now cramp her down! Snatch her ! snatch her ! ”

He seized the other side of the wheel and helped to spin it around until it was hard down, and then we held it so. The boat resisted, and refused to answer for a while, and next she came surging to starboard, mounted the reef, and

that’s a reef.”

sent a long, angry ridge of water foaming away from her bows.

“ Now watch her; watch her like a cat, or she ’11 get away from you. When she fights strong and the tiller slips a little, in a jerky, greasy sort of way, let up on her a trifle ; it is the way she tells you at night that the water is too

114    RUNNING THE REEF.

shoal; but keep edging her up, little by little, toward the point. You are well up on the bar, now; there is a

"SET iier back.”

bar under every point, because the water that comes down around it forms an eddy and allows the sediment to sink. Do you see those fine lines on the face of the water that branch fan ? Well, those are little reefs ; the ends of them, but run them

out like tho ribs of a you want to just miss

pretty close. Now look out — look out ! Don’t you crowd

LEFT TO MYSELF.    115

that slick, greasy-looking place ; there ain’t nine feet there ; she won’t stand it. She begins to smell it; look sharp, I tell you ! Oil blazes, there you go ! Stop the starboard wheel! Quick ! Ship up to back ! Set her back ! ”

The engine bells jingled and the engines answered promptly, shooting white columns of steam far aloft out of the ’scape pipes, but it was too late. The boat had “ smelt ” the bar in good earnest; the foamy ridges that radiated from her bows suddenly disappeared, a great dead swell came. rolling forward and swept ahead of her, she careened far over to larboard, and went tearing away toward the other shore as if she were about scared to death. We were a good mile from where we ought to have been, when we finally got the upper hand of her again.

During the afternoon watch the next day, Mr. Bixby asked me if I knew how to run the next few miles. I said : —

“ Go inside the first snag above the point, outside the next one, start out from the lower end of Higgins’s wood-yard, make a square crossing and ” —

“ That’s all right. I ’11 be back before you close up on the next point.”

But he was n’t. He was still below when I rounded it and entered upon a piece of river which I had some misgivings about. I did not know that he was hiding behind a chimney to see how I would perform. I went gayly along, getting prouder and prouder, for he had never left the boat in my. sole charge such a length of time before. I even got to “ setting ” her and letting the wheel go, entirely, while I vaingloriously turned my back and inspected the stern marks and hummed a tune, a sort of easy indifference which I had prodigiously admired in Bixby and other great pilots. Once I inspected rather long, and when I faced to the front again my heart flew into my mouth so suddenly that if I had n’t clapped my teeth together I should have lost it. One of those frightful bluff reefs was stretching its deadly length right across our bows ! My head was gone in a moment; I

116    ON THE VERGE OF RUIN.

did not know which end I stood 011; I gasped and could not get my breath; I spun the wheel down with such rapidity that it wove itself together like a spider’s web ; the boat answered and turned square away from the reef, but the reef followed her! I fled, and still it followed still it kept — right across my bows ! I never looked to see where I was going, I only fled. The awful crash was imminent — why did n’t that villain come ! If I committed the crime of ringing a bell, I might get thrown overboard. But better that than kill the boat. So in blind desperation I started such a rattling “ sliivaree ” down below as never had astounded an engineer in this world before, I fancy. Amidst the'frenzy of the bells the engines began to back and fill in a furious way, and my reason forsook its throne — we were about to crash into the woods on the other side of the river. Just then Mr. Bixby stepped calmly into view on the hurricane deck. My soul went out to him in gratitude. My distress vanished ; I would have felt safe on the brink of Niagara, with Mr. Bixby on the hurricane deck. He blandly and sweetly took his tootli-pick out of his mouth between his fingers, as if it were a cigar, — we were just in the act of climbing an overhanging big tree, and the passengers were scudding astern like rats, — and lifted up these commands to me ever so gently : —

“ Stop the starboard. Stop the larboard. Set her back on both.”

The boat hesitated, halted, pressed her nose among the boughs a critical instant, then reluctantly began to back away.

“ Stop the larboard. Come ahead 011 it. Stop the starboard. Come ahead 011 it. Point her for the bar.”

I sailed away as serenely as a summer’s morning. Mr. Bixby came in and said, with mock simplicity,—

“ When you have a hail, my boy, you ought to tap the big bell three times before you land, so that the engineers can get ready.”

SAVED FROM MYSELF.    117

I blushed under the sarcasm, and said I had n’t had any hail. “ Ah ! Then it was for wood, I suppose. The officer of the watch will tell you when he wants to wood up.”

I went on con-suming, and said I was n’t after wood.

“ Indeed ?

Why, what could you want over here in the bend, then ? Did you ever know of a boat following a bend up-stream at this stage of the river ? ”

“ No, sir, — and I was n’t trying to follow it. I was getting away from a bluff reef.”

“ No, it was n’t a bluff reef; there is n’t one within three miles of where you were.”

“ But I saw it. It was as bluff as that one yonder.”

“ Just about. Run over it! ”

“ Do you give it as an order ? ”

“ Yes. Run over it.”

“ If I don’t, I wish I may die.”

“ All right; I am taking the responsibility.”

I was just as anxious to kill the mb. b. stepped into view. boat, now, as I had been to save

her before. I impressed my orders upon my memory, to be

118    A WONDERFUL BOOK.

used at the inquest, and niade a straight break for the reef. As it disappeared under our bows I held my breath; but we slid over it like oil.

a Now don’t you see the difference ? It was n’t anything but a wind reef. The wind does that.”

“ So I see. But it is exactly like a bluff reef. How am I ever going to tell them apart ? ”

“I can’t tell you. It is an instinct. By and by you will just naturally knoiv one from the other, but you never will be able to explain why or how you know them apart.”

It turned out to be true. The face of the water, in time, became a wonderful book — a book that was a dead language to the uneducated passenger, but which told its mind to me without reserve, delivering its most cherished secrets as clearly as if it uttered them with a voice. And it was not a book to be read once and thrown aside, for it had a new story to tell every day. Throughout the long twelve hundred miles there was never a page that was void of interest, never one that you could leave unread without loss, never one that you would want to skip, thinking you could find higher enjoyment in some other thing. There never was so wonderful a book written by man ; never one whose interest was so absorbing, so unflagging, so sparklingly renewed with every re-perusal. The passenger who could not read it was charmed with a peculiar sort of faint dimple 011 its surface (on the rare occasions when he did not overlook it altogether) ; but to the pilot that was an italicized passage ; indeed, it was more than that, it was a legend of the largest capitals, with a string of shouting exclamation points at the end of it; for it meant that a wreck or a rock was buried there that could tear the life out of the strongest vessel that ever floated. It is the faintest and simplest expression the water ever makes, and the most hideous to a pilot’s eye. In truth, the passenger who could not read this book saw nothing but all manner of pretty pictures in it, painted by the sun and shaded by the clouds, whereas to the trained eye

AN ENCHANTING SCENE.    119

these were not pictures at all, but the grimmest and most dead-earnest of reading-matter.

Now when I had mastered the language of this water and had come to know every trifling feature that bordered the great river as familiarly as I knew the letters of the alphabet, I had made a valuable acquisition. But I had lost something, too. I had lost something which could never be restored to me while I lived. All the grace, the beauty, the poetry had gone out of the majestic river ! I still keep in mind a certain wonderful sunset which I witnessed when steamboating Avas neAV to me. A broad expanse of the river was turned to blood; in the middle distance the red hue brightened into gold, through which a solitary log came floating, black and conspicuous ; in one place a long, slanting mark lay sparkling upon the Avater ; in another the surface was broken by boiling, tumbling rings, that Avere as many-tinted as an opal; where the ruddy flush Avas faintest, Avas a smooth spot that Avas covered Avitli graceful circles and radiating lines, ever so delicately traced ; the shore on our left Avas denseljr Avooded, and the sombre shadoAv that fell from this forest Avas broken in one place by a long, ruffled trail that shone like silver ; and high above the forest Avail a. clean-stemmed dead tree waved a single leafy bough that gloAved like a flame in the unobstructed splendor that Avas floAving from the sun. There Avcrc graceful curves, reflected images, Avoody heights, soft distances ; and over the Avhole scene, far and near, the dissolving lights drifted steadily, enriching it, every passing moment, Avith iicav marvels of coloring.

1 stood like one bcAvitched. I drank it in, in a speechless rapture. The world Avas iicav to me, and 1 had never seen anything like this at home. But as 1 have said, a day came Avlicn 1 began to cease from noting the glories and the charms Avhich the moon and the sun and the tAvilight Avroughi upon the rivers face ; another day came Avhen I ceased altogether to note them. Then, if that sunset scene had beecn re-

120    SIGNS AND WONDERS.

peated, I should have looked upon it without rapture, and should have commented upon it, inwardly, after this fashion : This sun means that we are going to have wind to-morrow ; that floating log means that the river is rising, small thanks to it; that slanting mark on the water refers to a bluff reef which is going to kill somebody’s steamboat one of these nights, if it keeps on stretching out like that; those tum-

I STOOD LIKE ONE BEWITCHED.”

bling “ boils ” show a dissolving bar and a changing channel there ; the lines and circles in the slick water over yonder are a warning that that troublesome place is shoaling up dangerously ; that silver streak in the shadow of the forest is the “ break ” from a new snag, and he has located himself in the very best place he could have found to fish for steamboats ; that tall dead tree, with a single living branch, is not going to last long, and then how is a body ever going to get through this blind place at night without the friendly old landmark ?

No, the romance and the beauty were all gone from the river. All the value any feature of it had for me now was

A PROFESSIONAL VIEW.    121

the amount of usefulness it could furnish toward compassing the £afe piloting of a steamboat. Since those days, I have pitied doctors from my heart. What does the lovely flush in a beauty’s cheek mean to a doctor but a “ break ” that ripples above some deadly disease ? Are not all her visible charms sown thick with what are to him the signs and symbols of hidden decay ? Does he ever see her beauty at all, or does n’t he simply view her professionally, and comment upon her unwholesome condition all to himself ? And does n’t he sometimes wonder whether he has gained most or lost most by learning his trade ?

CHAPTER X.

COMPLETING MY EDUCATION.

HOSOEYER has done me the courtesy to read my

chapters which have preceded this may possibly wonder that I deal so minutely with piloting as a science. It was the prime purpose of those chapters; and I am not quite done yet. I wish to show, in the most patient and painstaking way, what a wonderful science it is. Ship channels are buoyed and lighted, and therefore it is a comparatively easy undertaking to learn to run them ; Clearwater rivers, with gravel bottoms, change their channels very gradually, and therefore one needs to learn them but once; but piloting becomes another matter when you apply it to vast streams like the Mississippi and the Missouri, whose alluvial banks cave and change constantly, whose snags are always hunting up new quarters, whose sandbars are never at rest, whose channels are forever dodging and shirking, and whose obstructions must be confronted in all nights and all weathers without the aid of a single light-house or a single buoy; for there is neither light nor buoy to be found anywhere in all this three or four thousand miles of villanous river.1 I feel justified in enlarging upon this great science for the reason that I feel sure no one has ever yet written a paragraph about it who had piloted a steamboat himself, and so had a practical knowledge of the subject. If the -theme were hackneyed, I should be obliged to deal gently with the reader; but since it is wholly new,

1 True at the time referred to: not true now (1882).

PUTTING ON AIRS.    123

I have felt at liberty to take up a considerable degree of room with it.

When I had learned the name and position of every visible feature of the river; when I had so mastered its shape that I could shut my eyes and trace it from St. Louis to New Orleans; when I had learned to read the face of the water as one would cull the news from the morning paper ; and finally, when I had trained my dull memory to treasure up an endless array of soundings and crossing-marks, and keep fast hold of them, I judged that my education was complete : so I got to tilting my cap to the side of my head, and wearing a toothpick in my mouth at the wheel. Mr. Bixby had his eye on these airs.

‘WEARING A TOOTHPICK.

One day he said,—

“ What is the height of that bank yonder, at Burgess’s ? ”

“ How can I tell, sir ?

It is three quarters of a mile away.”

“ Yery poor eye — very poor. Take the glass.”

I took the glass, and presently said,—

“ I can’t tell. I suppose that that bank is about a loot and a half high.”

“ Foot and a half ! That’s a six-foot bank. How high was the bank along here last trip ? ” u I don’t know ; I never noticed.”

“ You did n’t ? Well, you must always do it hereafter.”

“ Why ? ”

“ Because you ’11 have to know a good many things that

124    RISING OR FALLING.

it tells you. For one thing, it tells you the stage of the river — tells you whether there’s more water or less in the river along here than there was last trip.”

“ The leads tell me that.” I rather thought I had the advantage of him there.

“ Yes, but suppose the leads lie ? The bank would tell you so, and then you ’d stir those leadsmen up a bit. There was a ten-foot bank here last trip, and there is only a six-foot bank now. What does that signify ? ”

“ That the river is four feet higher than it was last trip.”

“Verygood. Is the river rising or falling ? ”

“ Rising.”

“ No it ain’t.”

“ I guess I am right, sir. Yonder is some driftwood floating down the stream.” “ A rise starts the drift-wood, but then it keeps on floating a while after the river is done rising. Now the bank will tell you about this. Wait till you come to a place where it shelves a little. Now here ; do you see this narrow belt of fine sediment    ?    That    was    deposited    while the water was

higher.    You    see    the    drift-wood    begins    to strand, too. The

bank helps in other ways. Do you see that stump on the false point ? ”

“ Ay, ay, sir.”

EVERLASTING MEASURING.    125

“Well, the water is just up to the roots of it. You must make a note of that.”

“ Why ? ”

“ Because that means that there V seven feet in the chute of 103.”

“ But 103 is a long way up the river yet.”

“ That’s where the benefit of the hank comes in. There is water enough in 103 now, yet there may not be by the time we get there ; but the bank will keep us posted all along. You don’t run close chutes on a falling river, upstream, and there are precious few of them that you are allowed to run at all down-stream. There’s a law of the United States against it. The river may be rising by the time we get to 103, and. in that case we ’11 run it. We are drawing — how much ? ”

“ Six feet aft, —- six and a half forward.”,

“ Well, you do seem to know something.”

“ But what I particularly want to know is, if I have got to keep up an everlasting measuring of the banks of this river, twelve hundred miles, month in and month out ? ” ■

“ Of course ! ”

My emotions were too deep for words for a while. Presently I said, —

“ And how about these chutes ? Are there many of them ? ”

“ I should say so. I fancy we shan’t run any of the river this trip as you’ve ever seen it run before — so to speak. If the river begins to rise again, we ’11 go up behind bars that you’ve always seen standing out of the river, high and dry like the roof of a house ; we ’11 cut across low places that you’ve never noticed at all, right through the middle of bars that cover three hundred acres of river ; we ’11 creep through cracks where you’ve always thought was solid land ; we ’11 dart through the woods and leave twenty-five miles of river off to one side ; we ’11 see the hind-side of every island between New Orleans and Cairo.”

126    A NEW LESSON.

“Then I’ve got to go to work and learn just as much more river as I already know.”

“ Just about twice as much more, as near as you. can come at it.”

“ Well, one lives to find out. I think I was a fool when I went into this business.”

“ Yes, that is true. And you are yet. But you ’11 not he when you’ve learned it.”

“ Ah, I never can learn it.”

“ I will see that you do”

By and by I ventured again: —

“ Have I got to learn all this thing just as I know the rest of the river — shapes and all — and so I can run it at night ?”.

“ Yes. And you’ve got to have good fair marks from one end of the river to the other, that will help the bank tell you when there is water enough in each of these countless places, — like that stump, you know. When the river first begins to rise, you can run half a dozen of the deepest of them ; when it rises a foot more you can run another dozen; the next foot will add a couple of dozen, and so on : so you see you have to know your banks and marks to a dead moral certainty, and never get them mixed; for when you start through one of those cracks, there ’s no backing out again, as there is in the big river; you’ve got to go through, or stay there six months if you get caught on a falling river,. There are about fifty of these cracks which you can’t run at all except when the river is brim full and over the banks.”

“ This new lesson is a cheerful prospect.”

“ Cheerful enough. And mind what I’ve just told you ; when you start into one of those places you’ve got to go through. They are too narrow to turn around in, too crooked to back out of, and the shoal water is always up at the head; never elsewhere. And the head of them is always likely to be filling up, little by little, so that the marks you reckon their depth by, this season, may not answer for next.”    ‘    .

THE ORATOR OF THE SCOW.


MEETING A RISE.    129

u Learn a new set, then, every year ? ”

“ Exactly. Cramp her up to the bar! What are you standing up through the middle of the river for ? ”

The next few months showed me strange things. On the same day that we held the conversation above narrated, we met a great rise coming down the river. The whole vast face of the stream was black with drifting dead logs, broken boughs, and great trees that had caved in and been washed away. It required the nicest steering to pick one’s way

water, would suddenly appear

right under our bows, coming head-on; no use to try to avoid it then; we could only stop the engines, and one wheel would walk over that log from one end to the other, keeping up a thundering racket and careening the boat in a way that was very uncomfortable to passengers. Now and then we would hit one of these sunken logs a rattling bang, dead in the centre, with a full head of steam, and it would stun the boat as if she had hit a continent. Sometimes this log would lodge, and stay right across our nose, and back the 9

130    AN AGONIZING WAIL.

Mississippi up before it; we would have to do a little crawfishing, then, to get away from the obstruction. We often hit white logs, in the dark, for we could not see them till we were right on them; but a black log is a pretty distinct object at night. A white snag is an ugly customer when the daylight is gone.

Of course, on the    great rise,    down came a swarm    of prodigious timber-rafts    from the head    waters of    the    Missis

sippi, coal barges from Pittsburgh, little trading scows from everywhere, and broad-liorns from “ Posey County,” Indiana, freighted with “ fruit and furniture ” — the usual term for describing it, though in plain English the freight thus aggrandized was hoop-poles and pumpkins. Pilots bore a mortal hatred to these craft; and it was returned with usury. The law required all such helpless traders to keep a light burning, but it was a law that was often broken. All of a sudden, on a murky night, a light would hop up, right under our bows, almost, and an agonized voice, with the backwoods “ whang ” to it, would wail out:    —

“ Whar ’n the-you goin’    to !    Cain’t you    see    nothin’,

you dash-dashed aig-suckin’, sheep-stealin’, one-eyed son of a stuffed monkey ! ”

Then for an instant, as we whistled by, the red glare from our furnaces would reveal the scow and the form of the gesticulating orator as if under a lightning-flash, and in that instant our firemen and deck-hands would send and receive a tempest of missiles and profanity, one of our wheels would walk off with the crashing fragments of a steering-oar, and down the dead blackness would shut again. And that flatboatman would be sure to go into New Orleans and sue our boat, swearing stoutly that he had a light burning all the time, when in truth his gang had the lantern down below to sing and lie and drink and gamble by, and no watch on deck. Once, at night, in one of those forest-bordered crevices (behind an island) which steamboatmen intensely describe with the phrase “ as dark as the inside of a cow,”

TAKING THEIR CHANCES.    181

we should have eaten up a Posey County family, fruit, furniture, and all, but that they happened to be fiddling down below and we just caught the sound of the music in time to

“gambling down

BELOW.”

sheer off, doing no serious damage, unfortunately, but coming so near it that we had good hopes for a moment. These people brought up their lantern, then, of course ; and as we backed and filled to get away, the precious family stood in the light of it — both sexes and various ages — and cursed us till everything turned blue. Once a coal-boatman sent a bullet through our pilot-house, when we borrowed a steering-oar of him in a very narrow place.

CHAPTER XI.

THE RIVER RISES.

URING this big rise these small-fry craft were an


intolerable nuisance. We were running chute after chute, — a new world to me,— and if there was a particularly cramped place in a chute, we would be pretty sure to meet a broad-liorn there; and if he failed to be there, we would find him in a still worse locality, namely, the head of the chute, on the shoal water. And then there would be no end of profane cordialities exchanged.

Sometimes, in the big river, when we would be feeling our way cautiously along through a' fog, the deep hush would suddenly be broken by yells and a clamor of tin pans, and all in an instant a log raft would appear vaguely through the webby veil, close upon us; and then we did not wait to swap knives, but snatched our engine bells out by the roots and piled on all the steam we had, to scramble out of the way! One doesn’t hit a rock or a solid log raft with a steamboat when he can get excused.

You will hardly believe it, but many steamboat clerks always carried a large assortment of religious tracts with them in those old departed steamboating days. Indeed they did. Twenty times a day we would be cramping up around a bar, while a string of these small-fry rascals wore drifting down into the head of the bend away above and beyond us a couple of miles. Now a skiff would dart away from one of them, and come fighting its laborious way across the desert of water. It would “ ease all,” in the shadow of our forecastle,

TRACT DISTRIBUTING.    133

and the panting oarsmen would shout, “ Gimme a pa-a-per! ” as the skiff drifted swiftly astern. The clerk would throw over a file of New Orleans journals. If these were picked up without comment, you might notice that now a dozen other skiffs had been drifting down upon us without saying any-

No. 1 was going to fare. No. 1 making no comment, all the rest would bend to their oars and come on, now ; and as fast as they came the clerk would heave over neat bundles of religious tracts, tied to shingles. The amount of hard swearing which twelve packages of religious literature will command when impartially divided up among twelve raftsmen’s crews, who have pulled a heavy skiff two miles on a hot day to get them, is simply incredible.

184    A NEW WORLD.

As I have said, the big rise brought a new world under my vision. By the time the river was over its banks we had forsaken our old paths and were hourly climbing over bars that had stood ten feet out of water before; we were shaving stumpy shores, like that at the foot of Madrid Bend, which I had always seen avoided before; we were clattering through chutes like that of 82, where the opening at the foot was an unbroken wall of timber till our nose was almost at the very spot. Some of these chutes were utter solitudes. The dense, untouched forest overhung both banks of the crooked little crack, and one could believe that human creatures had never intruded there before. The swinging grape-vines, the grassy nooks and vistas glimpsed as we swept by, the flowering creepers waving their red blossoms from the tops of dead trunks, and all the spendthrift richness of the forest foliage, were wasted and thrown away there. The chutes were lovely places to steer in; they were deep, except at the head ; the current was gentle; under the “points” the water was absolutely dead, and the invisible banks so bluff that where the tender willow thickets projected you could bury your boat’s broadside in them as you tore along, and then you seemed fairly to fly.

Behind other islands we found wretched little farms, and wretcheder little log-cabins; there were crazy rail fences sticking a foot or two above the water, with one or two jeans-clad, chills-racked, yellow-faced male miserables roosting on the top-rail, elbows on knees, jaws in hands, grinding tobacco and discharging the result at floating chips through crevices left by lost teeth; while the rest of the family and the few farm-animals were huddled together in an empty wood-flat riding at her moorings close at hand. In this flatboat the family would have to cook and eat and sleep for a lesser or greater number of days (or possibly weeks), until the river should fall two or three feet and let them get back to their log-cabin and their chills again — chills being a merciful provision of an all-wise Providence to enable them to take

NEW PEOPLE.    135

exercise without exertion. And this sort of watery camping out was a thing which these people were rather liable to be treated to a couple of times a year: by the December rise out of the Ohio, and the June rise out of the Mississippi. And yet these were kindly dispensations, for they at least

yellow-faced miserables.”

enabled the poor things to rise from the dead now and then, and look upon life when a steamboat went by. They appreciated the blessing, too, for they spread their mouths and eyes wide open and made the most of these occasions. Now what could these banished creatures find to do to keep from dying of the blues during the low-water season!

136    THE LOWER RIVER.

Once, in one of these lovely island chutes, we found our course completely bridged by a great fallen tree. This will serve to show how narrow some of the chutes were. The passengers had an hour’s recreation in a virgin wilderness, while the boat-hands chopped the bridge away ; for there was no such thing as turning back, you comprehend.

From Cairo to Baton Rouge, when the river is over its banks, you have no particular trouble in the night, for the thousand-mile wall of dense forest that guards the two banks all the way is only gapped with a farm or wood-yard opening at intervals, and so you can’t “ get out of the river ” much easier than you could get out of a fenced lane; but from Baton Rouge to New Orleans it is a different matter. The river is more than a mile wide, and very deep — as much as two hundred feet, in places. Both hanks, for a good deal over a hundred miles, are shorn of their timber and bordered by continuous sugar plantations, with only here and there a scattering sapling or row of ornamental China-trees. The timber is shorn off clear to the rear of the plantations, from two to four miles. When the first frost threatens to come, the planters snatch off their crops in a hurry. When they have finished grinding the cane, they form the refuse of the stalks (which they call bagasse) into great piles and set fire to them, though in other sugar countries the bagasse is used for fuel in the furnaces of the sugar mills. Now the piles of damp bagasse burn slowly, and smoke like Satan’s own kitchen.

An embankment ten or fifteen feet high guards both banks of the Mississippi all the way down that lower end of the river, and this embankment is set back from the edge of the shore from ten to perhaps a hundred feet, according to circumstances ; say thirty or forty feet, as a general thing. Fill that whole region with an impenetrable gloom of smoke from a hundred miles of burning bagasse piles, when the' river is over the banks, and turn a steamboat loose along there at midnight and see how she will feel. And see how

A SHORELESS SEA.    137

you will feel, too! You find yourself away out in the midst of a vague dim sea that is shoreless, that fades out and loses itself in the murky distances; for you cannot discern the thin rib of embankment, and you are always imagining you see a straggling tree when you don’t. The plantations themselves are transformed by the smoke, and look like a part of the sea. All through your watch you are tortured with the exquisite misery of uncertainty. You hope you are keeping in the river, but you do not know. All that you are sure about is that you are likely to be within six feet of the bank

ON A SHORELESS SEA.

and destruction, when you think you are a good half-mile from shore. And you are sure, also, that if you chance suddenly to fetch up against the embankment and topple your chimneys overboard, you will have the small comfort of knowing that it is about what you were expecting to do. One of the great Vicksburg packets darted out into a sugar plantation one night, at such a time, and had to stay there a week. But there was no novelty about it; it had often been done before.

I thought I had finished this chapter, but I wish to add a curious thing, while it is in my mind. It is only relevant in that it is connected with piloting. There %used to be an excellent pilot on the river, a Mr. X., who was a somnambu-

138    A BAD NIGHT.

list. It was said that if -his mind was troubled about a bad piece of river, lie was pretty sure to get up and walk in his sleep and do strange things. He was once fellow-pilot for a trip or two with George Ealer, on a great New Orleans passenger packet. During a considerable part of the first trip George was uneasy, but got over it by and by, as X. seemed content to stay in his bed when asleep. Late one night the boat was approaching Helena, Arkansas ; the water was low, and the crossing above the town in a very blind and tangled condition. X. had seen the crossing since Ealer had, and as the night was particularly drizzly, sullen, and dark, Ealer was considering whether he had not better have X. called to assist in running the place, when the door opened and X. walked in. Now on very dark nights, light is a deadly enemy to piloting; you are aware that if you stand in a lighted room, on such a night, you cannot see things in the street to any purpose; but if you put out the lights and stand in the gloom you can make out objects in the street pretty well. So, on very dark nights, pilots do not smoke ; they allow no fire in the pilot-house stove if there is a crack which can allow the least ray to escape ; they order the furnaces to be curtained with huge tarpaulins and the sky-lights to be closely blinded. Then no light whatever issues from the boat. The undefinable shape that now entered the pilot-house had Mr. X.’s voice. This said, —

“ Let me take her, Georgo ; I’ve seen this place since you have, and it is so crooked that I reckon I can run it myself easier than I could tell you how to do it.”

“ It is kind of you, and I swear I am willing. I have n’t got another drop of perspiration left in me. I have been spinning around and around the wheel like a squirrel. It is so dark I can’t tell which way she^ is swinging till she is coming around like a whirligig.”

So Ealer took a seat on the bench, panting and breathless. The black phantom assumed the wheel without saying anything, steadied the waltzing steamer with a turn or two,

A PHANTOM PILOT.    139

and then stood at ease, coaxing her a little to this side and then to that, as gently and as sweetly as if the time had been noonday. When Ealer observed this marvel of steering,

“ Well, I thought I knew how to steer a steamboat, but that was another mistake of mi ne.”

X. said nothing, but went serenely on with his work. He rang for the leads ; he rang to slow down the steam ; he worked the boat carefully and neatly into invisible marks, then stood at the centre of the wheel and peered blandly out into the blackness, fore and aft, to verify his position; as the leads shoaled more and more, he stopped the engines

140    A SUCCESSFUL CARRY.

entirely, and the dead silence and suspense of “ drifting ” followed; when the shoalest water was struck, he cracked on the steam, carried her handsomely over, and then began to

work her warily into the next system of shoal marks; the same patient, heedful use of leads and engines followed, the boat slipped through without touching bottom, and entered upon the third and last intri-

“NOBODY THERE.”

cacy of the crossing; imperceptibly she moved through the gloom, crept by inches into her marks, drifted tediously till

NOBODY THERE.    141

the slioalest water was cried, and then, under a tremendous head of steam, went swinging over the reef and away into deep water and safety!

Ealer let his long-pent breath pour out in a great, relieving sigh, and said : —

“ That’s the sweetest piece of piloting that was ever done on the Mississippi River! I would n’t believed it could be done, if I had n’t seen it.”

There was no reply, and he added : —

“ Just hold her five minutes longer, partner, and let me run down and get a cup of coffee.”

A minute later Ealer was biting into a pie, down in the “ texas,” and comforting himself with coffee. Just then the night watchman happened in, and was about to happen out again, when he noticed Ealer and exclaimed,—

“ Who is at the wheel, sir ? ”

“ X.”

“ Dart for the pilot-house, quicker than lightning! ”

The next moment both men were flying up the pilot-house companion-way, three steps at a jump ! Nobody there ! The great steamer was whistling down the middle of the river at her own sweet will! The watchman shot out of the place again; Ealer seized the wheel, set an engine back with power, and held his breath while the boat reluctantly swung away from a “ towhead ” which she was about to knock into the middle of the Gulf of Mexico!

By and by the watchman came back and said,—

“ Did n’t that lunatic tell you he was asleep, when he first came up here ? ”

“ No.”

“ Well, he was. I found him walking along on top of the railings, just as unconcerned as another man would walk a pavement; and I put him to bed ; now just this minute there he was again, away astern, going through that sort of tightrope deviltry the same as before.”

“ Well, I think I ’11 stay by, next time he has one of those

142    “IF HE WAS DEAD 1 ”

fits. But I hope he’ll have them often. You just ought to have seen him take this boat through Helena crossing. I never saw anything so gaudy before. And if he can do such gold-leaf, kid-glove, diamond-breastpin piloting when he is sound asleep, what could n't he do if he was dead ! ”

CHAPTER XII.

SOUNDING.

\ \ '

' >    ill    th'-    water" tfirrr in ti

or a few inclic* more, an wa* often tlic caae in the old time*. — one muat be painfully circumafiect in hia piloting. We

aaed to hare to “ mow) ** a number of partirularir bad plica almaa! ererr trip when the rirer waa at a ranr low iU|t.

144    SOUNDING.

Sounding is done in this way. The boat ties up at the shore, just above the shoal crossing; the pilot not on watch takes his “cub” or steersman and a picked crew of men (sometimes an officer also), and goes out in the yawl — provided the boat has not that rare and sumptuous luxury, a regularly-devised “ sounding-boat ” — and proceeds to hunt for the best water, the pilot on duty watching his movements' through a spy-glass, meantime, and in some instances assisting by signals of the boat’s whistle, signifying “ try higher up ” or “ try lower down; ” for the surface of the water, like an oil-painting, is more expressive and intelligible when inspected from a little distance than very close at hand. The whistle signals are seldom necessary, however; never, perhaps, except when the wind confuses the significant ripples upon the water’s surface. When the yawl has reached the shoal place, the speed is slackened, the pilot begins to sound the depth with a pole ten or twelve feet long, and the steersman at the tiller obeys the order to “ hold her up to starboard; ” or “ let her fall off to larboard; ”1 or “ steady — steady as you go.”

When the measurements indicate that the yawl is approaching the shoalest part of the reef, the command is given to “ ease all! ” Then the men stop rowing and the yawl drifts with the current. The next order is, “ Stand by with the buoy ! ” The moment the shallowest point is reached, the pilot delivers the order, “ Let go the buoy! ” and over she goes. If the pilot is not satisfied, he sounds the place again; if he finds better water higher up or lower down, he removes the buoy to that place. Being finally satisfied, lie gives the order, and all the men stand their oars straight up in the air, in line; a blast from the boat’s whistle indicates that the signal has been seen ; then the men “give way” on their oars and lay the yawl alongside the buoy ; the steamer comes creeping carefully down, is pointed straight at the buoy,

1 The term “ larboard ” is never used at sea, now, to signify the left hand; but was always used on the river in my time.

CUBS AND BUOYS.    145

husbands her power for the coming, struggle, and presently, at the critical moment, turns 011 all her steam and goes grinding and wallowing over the buoy and the sand, and gains the deep water beyond. Or maybe she does n’t; maybe she “ strikes and swings.” Then she has to while away several hours (or days) sparring herself off.

Sometimes a buoy is not laid at all, but the yawl goes ahead, hunting the best water, and the steamer follows along in its wake. Often there is a deal of fun and excitement about sounding, especially if it is a glorious summer day(or a blustering night. But in winter the cold and the peril take most of the fun out of it.

A buoy is nothing but a board four or five feet long, with one end turned up; it is a reversed school-house bench, with one of the supports left and the other removed. It is anchored on the shoalest part of the reef by a rope with a heavy stone made fast to the end of it. But for the resistance of the turned-up end of the reversed bench, the current would pull the buoy under water. At night, a paper lantern with a candle in it is fastened on top of the buoy, and this can be seen a mile or more, a little glimmering spark in the waste of blackness.

Nothing delights a cub so much as an opportunity to go out sounding. There is such an air of adventure about it; often there is danger; it is so gaudy and man-of-war-like to sit up in the stern-sheets and steer a swift yawl; there is something fine about the exultant spring of the boat when an experienced old sailor crew throw their souls into the oars; it is lovely to see the white foam stream, away from the bows; there is music in the rush of the water; it is deliciously exhilarating, in summer, to go speeding over the breezy expanses of the river when the world of wavelets is dancing in the sun. It is such grandeur, too, to the cub, to get a chance to give an order; for often the pilot will simply say, “ Let her go about! ” and leave the rest to the cub, who instantly cries, inliis sternest tone of command, “ Ease star-10

14g .    A    PRETTY GIRL.

board! Strong on tlie larboard! Starboard give way ! With a will, men! ” The cub enjoys sounding for the further reason that the eyes of the passengers are watching all the yawl’s movements with absorbing interest if the time be daylight; and if it be night he knows that those same wondering eyes are fastened upon the yawl’s lantern as it glides out into the gloom and dims away in the remote distance.

One trip a pretty girl of sixteen spent her time in our pilot-house with her uncle and aunt, every day and all day long. I fell in love with her. So did Mr. Thornburg’s cub, .

Tom O . Tom and I had been bosom friends until this

time; but now a coolness began to arise. I told the girl a good many of my river adventures, and made myself out a good deal of a hero; Tom tried to make himself appear to be a hero, too, and succeeded to some extent, but then he always had a way of embroidering. However, virtue is its own reward, so I was a barely perceptible trifle ahead in the contest. About this time something happened which promised handsomely for me: the pilots decided to sound the crossing at the head of 21. This would occur about nine or ten o’clock at night, when the passengers would be still up ; it would be Mr. Thornburg’s watch, therefore my chief would have to do the sounding. We had a perfect love of a sound-ing-boat — long, trim, graceful, and as fleet as a greyhound; her thwarts were cushioned; she carried twelve oarsmen ; one of the mates was always sent in her to transmit orders to her crew, for ours was a steamer where no end of “ style ” was put on.

We tied up at the shore above 21, and got ready. It was a foul night, and the river was so wide, there, that a landsman’s uneducated eyes could discern no opposite shore through such a gloom. The passengers were alert and interested; everything was satisfactory. As I hurried through the engine-room, picturesquely gotten up in storm toggery, I met Tom, and could not forbear delivering myself of a mean speech: —

AWFULLY DANGEROUS.    147

“ Ain’t you glad you don’t have to go out sounding ? ”

Tom was passing on, but lie quickly turned, and said,—

“ Now just for that, you can go and get the sounding-pole yourself. I was going after it, but I’d see you in Halifax, now, before I’d do it.”

“ Who wants you to get it ? I don’t. It’s in the sounding-boat.”

OH, HOW AWFUL.

“ It ain’t, either. It’s been new-painted; and it’s been up on the ladies cabin guards two days, drying.”

I flew back, and shortly arrived among

the crowd of watching and wondering ladies just in time to hear the command:

“ Give way, men! ”

I looked over, and there was the gallant sounding-boat booming away, the unprincipled Tom presiding at the tiller, and my chief sitting by him with the sounding-pole which I had been sent on a fool’s errand to fetch. Then that young girl said to me, —

“ Oh, how awful to have to go out in that little boat on such a night! Do you think there is any danger ? ”

I would rather have been stabbed. I went off, full of venom, to help in the pilot-house. By and by the boat’s

148    RUN DOWN.

lantern disappeared, and after an interval a wee spark glimmered upon the face of the water a mile away. Mr. Thornburg blew the whistle, in acknowledgment, backed the steamer out, and made for it. We flew along for a while, then slackened steam and went cautiously gliding toward the spark. Presently Mr. Thornburg exclaimed, —

“ Plello, the buoy-lantern ’s out! ”

He stopped the engines. A moment. or two later he said,—    *    ......

“ Why, there it is again ! ”    .... - .....

So he came ahead on the engines once more, and rang for the leads. Gradually the water shoaled up, and then began to deepen again ! Mr. Thornburg muttered : —

“Well, I don’t understand this. I believe that buoy:has' drifted off the reef. Seems to be a little too far to the left.. No matter, it is safest to run over it, anyhow.”    . ..

So, in that solid world of darkness we went creeping down on the light. Just as our bows were in. the act _ of plowing over it) Mr. Thornburg seized the bell-ropes, rang, a Startling.' peal, and exclaimed, —    .    ;    '    .    .

“My soul, it’s the sounding-boat!”    ;    .    .

A sudden chorus of wild alarms burst out far below — a pause — and then a sound of grinding and crashing followed. Mr. Thornburg exclaimed,—

“ There 1 the paddle-wheel has ground the sounding-boat, to lucifer matches ! Pun ! See who is killed !:

I was on the main deck in the. twinkling of an eye. My chief and the third mate and nearly all- the men were safe. They had discovered their danger when .it was too late to pull out of the way; then, when the great guards overshadowed them a moment later, they were prepared and knew what to do; at my chief’s order they sprang at the right instant, seized the guard, and were hauled aboard. The next moment the sounding-yawl swept aft to the wheel and was struck and splintered to atoms. Two of the men and the cub Tom, were missing — a fact which spread like wild-

SAVE HIM, SAVE HIM!    149

fire over tlie boat. The passengers came flocking to the forward gangway, ladies and all, anxious-eyed, white-faced, and talked in awed voices of the dreadful thing. And often and again I heard them say, “ Poor fellows ! poor boy, poor boy!”

By this time the boat’s yawl was manned and away, to search for the missing. Now a faint call was heard, off to the. left. The yawl had disappeared in the other direction. Half the people rushed to one side to encourage the swimmer with their shouts; the other half rushed the other way to shriek to the yawl to turn about. By the callings, the swimmer was approaching, but some said the sound showed failing strength. The crowd massed themselves against the boiler-deck railings, leaning over and staring into the gloom; and every faint and fainter cry wrung from them such words as “ Ah, poor fellow, poor fellow! is there no way to save him ?”

| But still the cries held out, and drew nearer, and presently the voice said pluckily, — i“ I can make it! Stand by with a rope ! ” i What a rousing cheer they gave him ! The chief mate took his stand in the glare of a torch-basket, a coil of rope in his hand, and his men grouped about him. The next moment the swimmer’s face appeared in the circle of light, and in another one the owner of it was hauled aboard, limp and drenched, while cheer 011 cheer went up. It was that devil Tom.

The yawl crew searched everywhere, but found no sign of the two men. • They probably failed to catch the guard, tumbled back, and were struck by the wheel and killed. Tom had never jumped for the guard at all, but had plunged head-first into the river and dived under the wheel. It was nothing; I could have done it easy enough, and I said so; but everybody went on just the same, making a wonderful to-do over that ass, as if he had done something great. That girl could n’t seem to have enough of that pitiful “ hero ”

150    HAULED ABOARD.

the rest of the trip; but little I cared; I loathed her, any way.

The way we came to mistake the sounding-boat’s lantern

cure ; then he took up a position a hundred yards below it and a little to one side of the steamer’s course, headed the sounding-boat up-stream,

A CLOSE SHAVE.    151

and waited. Having to wait some time, lie and the officer got to talking; he looked up when he judged that the steamer was about on the reef; saw that the buoy was gone, but supposed that the steamer had already run over it; he went on with his talk ; he noticed that the steamer was getting very close down on him, but that was the correct thing; it was her business to shave him closely, for convenience in taking him aboard ; he was expecting her to sheer off, until the last moment; then it flashed upon him that she was trying to run him down, mistaking his lantern for the buoy-light ; so he sang out, “ Stand by to spring for the guard, men ! ” and the next instant the jump was made.

CHAPTER XIII.

A PILOT’S NEEDS.

BUT I am wandering from what I was intending to do, that is, make plainer than perhaps appears in the previous chapters, some of the peculiar requirements of the science of piloting. First of all, there is one faculty which a pilot must incessantly cultivate until he has brought it to absolute perfection. Nothing short of perfection will do. That faculty is memory. He cannot stop with merely thinking a thing is so and so; he must Icnow it; for this is eminently one of the “ exact ” sciences. With what scorn a pilot was looked upon, in the old times, if he ever ventured to deal in that feeble phrase “ I think,” instead of the vigorous one “ I know ! ” One cannot easily realize what a tremendous thing it is to know every trivial detail of twelve hundred miles of river and know it with absolute exactness. If you will take the longest street in New York, and travel up and down it, conning its features patiently until you know every house and window and door and lamp-post and big and little sign by heart, and know them- so accurately that you can instantly name the one you are abreast of when you are set down at random in that street in the middle of an inky black night, you will then have a tolerable notion of the amount and the exactness of a pilot’s knowledge who carries the Mississippi River in his head. And then if you will go on until you know every street crossing, the character, size, and position of the crossing-stones, and the varying depth of mud in each of those numberless places, you will

STREETS AND STREAMS.    153

have some idea of what the pilot must know in order to keep a Mississippi steamer out of trouble. Next, if you will take half of the

“a city street.”

signs in that long street, and change their places once a month, and still manage to know their new positions accurately on dark nights, and keep up with these repeated changes without makifig any mistakes, you will understand what is required of a pilot’s peerless memory by the fickle Mississippi.

I think a pilot’s memory is about the most wonderful thing in the world. To know the Old and New Testaments by heart, and be able to recite them glibly, forward or backward, or begin at random anywhere in the book and recite both ways and never trip or make a mistake,

154    MARKS AND REMARKS.

is no extravagant mass of knowledge, and no marvellous facility, compared to a pilot’s massed knowledge of the Mississippi and his marvellous facility in the handling of it. I make this comparison deliberately, and believe I am not expanding the truth when I do it. Many will think my figure too strong, but pilots will not.

And how easily and comfortably the pilot’s memory does its work; how placidly effortless is its way; how unconsciously it lays up its vast stores, hour by hour, day by day, and never loses or mislays a single valuable package of them all! Take an instance. Let a leadsman cry, “ Half twain ! half twain! half twain! half twain! half twain!” until it becomes as monotonous as the ticking of a clock ; let conversation be going on all the time, and the pilot be doing his share of the talking, and no longer consciously listening to the leadsman; and in the midst of this endless string of half twains let a single “ quarter twain! ” be interjected, without emphasis, and then the half twain cry go on again, just as before: two or three weeks later that pilot can describe with precision the boat’s position in the river when that quarter twain was uttered, and give you such a lot of head-marks, stern-marks, and side-marks to guide you, that you ought to be able to take the boat there and put her in that same spot again yourself ! The cry of “ quarter twain ” did not really take his mind from his talk, but his trained faculties instantly photographed the bearings, noted the change of depth, and laid up the important details for future reference without requiring any assistance from him in the matter. If you were walking and talking with a friend, and another friend at your side kept up a monotonous repetition of the vowel sound A, for a couple of blocks, and then in the midst interjected an R, thus, A, A, A, A, A, R, A, A, A, etc., and gave the R 110 emphasis, you would not be able to state, two or three weeks afterward, that the R had been put in, nor be able to tell what objects you were passing at the moment it was done. But you could if your memory had been pa-

ASTONISHING FEATS.    155

tiently and laboriously trained to do that sort of thing mechanically.

Give a man a tolerably fair memory to start with, and piloting will develop it into a very colossus of capability. But only in the matters it is daily drilled in. A time would come when the man’s faculties could not help noticing landmarks and soundings, and his memory could not help holding on to them with the grip of a vice; but if you asked that same man at noon what he had had for breakfast, it would be ten chances to one that he could not tell you.

Astonishing things can be done with the human memory if you will devote it faithfully to one particular line of busi-    “let    a    leadsman    cry,    ‘half twain.”’

At the time that wages soared so high on the Missouri River, my chief, Mr. Bixby, went up there and learned more

156    A PILOT’S MEMORY.

than a thousand miles of that stream with an ease and rapidity that were astonishing. When he had seen each division once in the daytime and once at night, his education was so nearly complete that he took out a “ daylight ” license ; a few trips later he took out a full license, and went to piloting day and night,— and he ranked A 1, too.

Mr. Bixby placed me as steersman for a while under a pilot whose feats of memory were a constant marvel to me. However, his memory was born in him, I think, not built. For instance, somebody would mention a name. Instantly Mr. Brown would break in: —

“Oh, I knew him. Sallow-faced, red-headed fellow, with a little scar on the side of his throat, like a splinter under the flesh. He was only in the Southern trade six months. That was thirteen years ago. I made a trip with him. There was five feet in the upper river then ; the ‘ Henry Blake’ grounded at the foot of Tower Island drawing four and a half; the 1 George Elliott ’ unshipped her rudder on the wreck of the 4 Sunflower ’ ” —

“ Why, the ‘ Sunflower ’ did n’t sink until ” —

I know when she sunk ; it was three years before that, on the 2d of December; Asa Hardy was captain of her, and his brother John was first clerk ; and it was his first trip in her, too ; Tom Jones told me these things a week afterward

AND HIS TONGUE.    157

in New Orleans; he was first mate of the 4 Sunflower.* Captain Hardy stuck a nail in his foot the 6th of July of the next year, and died of the lockjaw on the 15th. His brother John died two years after, — 3d of March, — erysipelas. I never saw either of the Hardys, — they were Alleghany River men, — but people who knew them told me all these things. And they said Captain Hardy wore yarn socks winter and summer just the same, and his first wife’s name was Jane Shook, — she was from New England, — and his second one died in a lunatic asylum.

It was in the blood.

She was from Lexington, Kentucky.

Name was Horton before she was married.”

And so on, by the hour, the man’s tongue would go. He could not forget any thing. It was simply impossible. The most trivial details remained as distinct and luminous in his    «so rTJLL 0F LATJGH.”

head, after they had

lain there for years, as the most memorable events. His was not simply a pilot’s memory ; its grasp was universal. If he were talking about a trifling letter he had received seven years before, he was pretty sure to deliver you the entire screed from memory. And then without observing that he was departing from the true line of his talk, he was more than likely to hurl in a long-drawn parenthetical biography of the writer of that letter ; and you were lucky indeed if he did not take up that writer’s

158    TOO MUCH RICHNESS.

relatives, one bj one, and give you their biographies, too.

Such a memory as that is a great misfortune. To it, all occurrences are of the same,size. Its possessor cannot distinguish an interesting circumstance from an uninteresting one. As a talker, he is bound to clog his narrative with tiresome details and make himself an insufferable bore. Moreover, he cannot stick to his subject. He picks up every little grain of memory he discerns in his way, and so is led aside. Mr. Brown would start out with the honest intention of telling you a vastly funny anecdote about a dog. He would be “ so full of laugh ” that he could hardly begin ;■ then his memory would start with the dog’s breed and personal appearance ; drift into a history of his owner; of his owner’s family, with descriptions of weddings and burials that had occurred in it, together with recitals of congratulatory verses and obituary poetry provoked by the same ; then this memory would recollect that one of these' events occurred during the celebrated “ bard winter ” of such and such a year, and a minute description of that winter would follow, along with the names of people who were frozen to death, and statistics showing the high figures which pork and hay went up to. Pork and hay would suggest corn and fodder; corn and fodder would suggest cows and horses; cows and horses would suggest the circus and certain celebrated bare-back riders; the transition from the circus to the menagerie was easy and natural; from the elephant to equatorial Africa was but a step; then of course the heathen savages would suggest religion ; and at the end of three or four hours’ tedious jaw, the watch would change, and Brown would go out of the pilothouse muttering extracts from sermons he had heard years before about the efficacy of prayer as a means of grace. And the original first mention would be all you had learned about that dog, after all this waiting and hungering.

A pilot must have a memory; but there are two higher qualities which he must also have. He must have good and quick

TRAINING AND COURAGE.    159

judgment and decision, and a cool, calm courage that no peril can shake. Give a man the merest trifle of pluck to start with, and by the time he has become a pilot he cannot be unmanned by any danger a steamboat can get into; but one cannot quite say the same for judgment. Judgment is a matter of brains, and a man must start with a good stock of that article or he will never succeed as a pilot.

The growth of courage in the pilot-house is steady all the time, but it does not reach a high and satisfactory condition until some time after the young pilot has been “ standing his own watch,” alone and under the staggering weight of all the responsibilities connected with the position.. When an apprentice has become pretty thoroughly acquainted with the river, he goes clattering along so fearlessly with his steamboat, night or day, that he presently begins to imagine that it is his courage that animates him ; but the first time the pilot steps out and leaves him to his own devices he finds out it was the other man’s. He discovers that the article has been left out of his own cargo altogether. The whole river is bristling with exigencies in a moment; he is not prepared for them ; he does not know how to meet them; all his knowledge forsakes him ; and within fifteen minutes he is as white as a sheet and scared almost to death. Therefore pilots wisely train these cubs by various strategic tricks to look danger in the face a little more calmly. A favorite way of theirs is to play a friendly swindle upon the candidate.

Mr. Bixby served me in this fashion once, and for years afterward I used to blush even in my sleep when I thought of it. I had become a good steersman; so good, indeed, that I had all the work to do on our watch, night and day ; Mr. Bixby seldom made a suggestion to me; all he ever did was to take the wheel on particularly bad nights or in particularly bad crossings, land the boat when she needed to be landed, play gentleman of leisure nine tenths of the watch, and collect the wages. The lower river was about bank-full,

160    LAYING A TRAIN.

and if anybody had questioned my ability to run any crossing between Cairo and New Orleans without help or instruction, I should have felt irreparably hurt. The idea of being afraid of any crossing in the lot, in the day-time, was a thing too preposterous for contemplation. Well, one matchless summer’s day I was bowling down the bend above island 66, brimful of self-conceit and carrying my nose as high as a giraffe’s, when Mr. Bixby said, —

“ I am going below a while. I suppose you know the next crossing ? ”

This was almost an affront. It was about the plainest and simplest crossing in the whole river. One could n’t come to any harm, whether he ran it right or not; and as for depth, there never had been any bottom there. I knew all this, perfectly well.

SCARED TO DEATH.

“ Know how to run it ? Why, I can run it with my eyes shut.”

“How much water is there in it ? ”

“ Well, that is an odd question. I could n’t get bottom there with a church steeple.”

“ You think so, do you ? ”

The very tone of the question shook my confidence. That was what Mr. Bixby was expecting. He left, without saying anything more. I began to imagine all sorts of things. Mr. Bixby, unknown to me, of course, sent somebody down to the forecastle with some mysterious instructions to the leadsmen, another messenger was sent to whisper among the officers, and then Mr. Bixby went into hiding behind a smoke-stack where he could observe results. Presently the


WORKING THE MINE.    163

captain stepped out on the hurricane deck; next the chief mate appeared; then a clerk. Every moment or two a straggler was added to my audience ; and before I got to the head of the island I had fifteen or twenty people assembled down there under my nose. I began to wonder what the trouble was. As I started across, the captain glanced aloft at me and said, with a sham uneasiness in his voice, —

“ Where is Mr. Bixby ? ”

“ Gone below, sir.”

But that did the business for me. My imagination began-to construct dangers out of nothing, and they multiplied faster than I could keep the run of them. All at once I imagined I saw shoal water ahead! The wave of coward agony that surged through me then came near dislocating every joint in me. All my confidence in that crossing vanished. I seized the bell-rope; dropped it, ashamed; seized it again ; dropped it once more ; clutched it tremblingly once again, and pulled it so feebly that I could hardly hear the stroke myself. Captain and mate sang out instantly, and both together, —

“ Starboard lead there ! and quick about it! ”

This was another shock. I began to climb the wheel like a squirrel; but I would hardly get the boat started to port before I would see new dangers on that side, and away I would spin to the other ; only to find perils accumulating to starboard, and be crazy to get to port again. Then came the leadsman’s sepulchral cry: —

“ D-e-e-p four ! ”

Deep four in a bottomless crossing ! The terror of it took my breath away.

“ M-a-r-k three ! . . . M-a-r-k three . . . Quarter less three ! . . . Half twain ! ”

This was frightful! I seized the bell-ropes and stopped the engines.

“ Quarter twain ! Quarter twain ! Mark twain ! ”

I was helpless. I did not know what in the world to do.

164    A BIG SCARE.

I was quaking from head to foot, and I could have hung my hat on my eyes, they stuck out so far.

“ Quarter less twain ! Nine and a half!

We were drawing nine ! My hands were in a nerveless flutter. I could not ring a bell intelligibly with them. I flew

I heard the door close gently. I looked around, and there stood Mr. Bixby, smiling a bland, sweet smile. Then the audience on the hurricane deck sent up a thundergust of humiliating laughter. I saw it all, now, and I felt meaner than the meanest man in human history. I laid in the lead, set the boat in her marks, came ahead on the engines, and said: —

“COMFORT YE.”    165

“ It was a fine trick to play on an orphan, was rit it ? I suppose I ’11 never hear the last of how I was ass enough to heave the lead at the head of 66.”

“ Well, no, you won’t, maybe. In fact I hope you won’t; for I want you to learn something by that experience. Did n’t you know there was no bottom in that crossing ? ”

“ Yes, sir, I did.”

“Very well, then. You shouldn’t have allowed me or anybody else to shake your confidence in that knowledge. Try to remember that. And another thing : when you get into a dangerous place, don’t turn coward. That is n’t going to help matters any.”

It was a good enough lesson, but pretty hardly learned. Yet about the hardest part of it was that for months I so often had to hear a phrase which I had conceived a particular distaste for. It was, “ Oh, Ben, if you love me, back her! ”

CHAPTER XIV.

RANK AND DIGNITY OF PILOTING.

IN my preceding chapters I have tried, by going into the minutise of the science of piloting, to carry the reader step by step to a comprehension of what the science consists of; and at the same time I have tried to show him that it is a very curious and wonderful science, too, and very worthy of his attention. If I have seemed to love my subject, it is no surprising thing, for I loved the profession far better than any I have followed since, and I took a measureless pride in it. The reason is plain : a pilot, in those days, was the only unfettered and entirely independent human being that lived in the earth. Kings are but the hampered servants of parliament and people ; parliaments sit in chains forged by their constituency; the editor of a newspaper cannot be independent, but must work with one hand tied behind him by party and patrons, and be content to utter only half or two thirds of his mind; no clergyman is a free man and may speak the whole truth, regardless of his parish’s opinions; writers of all kinds are manacled servants of the public. We write frankly and fearlessly, but then we “ modify ” before we print. In truth, every man and woman and child has a master, and worries and frets in servitude; but in the day I write of, the Mississippi pilot had none. The captain could stand upon the hurricane deck, in the pomp of a very brief authority, and give him five or six orders while the vessel backed into the stream, and then that skipper’s reign was OTer. The moment that the boat was

A GRAND MOGUL.    lt>7

under way in the river, she was under the sole and unquestioned control of the pilot. He could do with her exactly as he pleased, run her when and whither he chose, and tie her up to the bank whenever his judgment said that that course was best. His movements were entirely free ; he consulted no one, he received commands from nobody, he promptly resented even    —

the merest suggestions. Indeed, the law of the United States forbade

him to listen to commands or suggestions, rightly considering that the pilot necessarily knew better how to handle the boat than “very brief authority.” anybody could tell him. So here was the novelty of a king without a keeper, an absolute monarch who was absolute in sober truth and not by a fiction of words. I have seen a boy of eighteen taking a great steamer serenely into what seemed almost certain destruction, and the aged captain standing mutely by, filled with apprehension but powerless to inter-

168    RULING THE ROOST.

fere. His interference, in that particular instance, might have been an excellent thing, but to permit it would have been to establish a most pernicious precedent. It will easily be guessed, considering the pilot’s boundless authority, that

he was a great personage in the old steamboat-ing days. He was treated with ma r k e d courtesy by the c ap tain and with ma r ked deference by all the office r s and servants ; and this deferential spirit was quickly communicated to the passengers, too. I think pilots were about the only people I ever knew who failed to show, in some degree, embarrassment in the presence of travelling foreign princes. But then, people in one’s own grade of life are not usually embarrassing objects.

‘TREATED WITH MARKED DEFERENCE.”

By long habit, pilots came to put all their wishes in the form of commands. It “ gravels ” me, to this day, to put my will in the weak shape of a request, instead of launching it in the crisp language of an order.

In those old days, to load a steamboat at St. Louis, take her to New Orleans and back, and discharge cargo, consumed about twenty-five days, on an average. Seven or eight of these days the boat spent at the wharves of St. Louis and New Orleans, and every soul on board was hard at work,

“DIVIDE” AND RULE.    169

except the two pilots ; they did nothing but play gentleman up town, and receive the same wages for it as if they had been on duty. The moment the boat touched the wharf at either city, they were ashore; and they were not likely to be seen again till the last bell was ringing and everything in readiness for another voyage.

When a captain got hold of a pilot of particularly high reputation, he took pains to keep him. When wages, were four hundred dollars a month on the Upper Mississippi, I have known a captain to keep such a pilot in idleness, under full pay, three months at a time, while the river was frozen up. And one must remember that in those cheap times four hundred dollars was a salary of almost inconceivable splendor. Few men on shore got such pay as that, and when they did they were mightily looked up to. When pilots from either end of the river wandered into our small Missouri village, they were sought by the best and the fairest, and treated with exalted respect. Lying in port under wages was a thing which many pilots greatly enjoyed and appreciated; especially if they belonged in the Missouri River in the heyday of that trade (Kansas times), and got nine hundred dollars a trip, which was equivalent to about eighteen hundred dollars a month. Here is a conversation of that day. A chap out of the Illinois River, with a little stern-wheel tub, accosts a couple of ornate and gilded Missouri River pilots : —

“ Gentlemen, I’ve got a pretty good trip for the up-country, and shall want you about a month. How much will it be ?”

“ Eighteen hundred dollars apiece.”

“ Heavens and earth! You take my boat, let me have your wages, and I ’11 divide! ”

I will remark, in passing, that Mississippi steamboatmen were important in landsmen’s eyes (and in their own, too, in a degree) according to- the dignity of the boat they were on. For instance, it was a proud thing to be of the crew of such stately craft as the “ Aleck Scott ” or the “ Grand

170    THE SWELLS.

Turk.” Negro firemen, deck hands, and barbers belonging to those boats were distinguished personages in their grade of life, and they were well aware of that fact, too. A stalwart darkey once gave offence at a negro ball in New Orleans

by putting on a good many airs. Finally one of the managers bustled up to him and said,—

“YOU take my boat !

“ Who is you, a n y way ? Who is you? dat’s what I wants to know! ”

The offender was not disconcerted in the least, but swelled himself up and t h rew that into his voice which showed that he knew he

was not putting on all those airs on a stinted capital.

“ Who is I ? Who is I ? I let you know mighty quick who I is! I want you niggers to understan’ dat I fires de middle do’1 on de ‘ Aleck Scott! ’ ”

1 Door.

GRAND TURK.”    171

That was sufficient.

The barber of the “ Grand Turk” was a spruce young negro, who aired his importance with balmy complacency, and was greatly courted by the circle in which he moved. The young colored population of New Orleans were much given to flirting, at twilight, on the banquettes of the back streets. Somebody saw and heard something like the following, one evening, in one of those localities. A middle-aged negro woman projected her head through a broken pane and shouted (very willing that the neighbors should hear and envy), “You Mary Ann, come in de house dis minute ! Stannin’ out dah foolin’ ’long wid dat ^ low trash-, an’ heah’s de barber off ’n de ‘ Gran’ Turk ’ wants to conwerse wid you! ” My reference, a moment ago, to the fact £ I that a pilot’s peculiar official position placed him out of the reach of criticism or command, brings Stephen 'v? W  naturally to

172    STEPHEN W.

gifted pilot, a good fellow, a tireless talker, and had both wit and humor in him. He had a most irreverent independence, too, and was deliciously easy-going and comfortable in the presence of age, official dignity, and even the most august wealth. He always had work, he never saved a penny, he was a most persuasive borrower, he was in debt to every pilot on the river, and to the majority of the captains. He could throw a sort of splendor around a bit of harum-scarum, devil-may-care piloting, that made it almost fascinating — but not to everybody. He made a

trip with good old Captain Y once, and was “ relieved ”

from duty when the boat got to New Orleans. Somebody expressed surprise at the discharge. Captain Y- shuddered at the mere mention of Stephen. Then his poor, thin old voice piped out something like this : —

“ Why, bless me! I would n’t have such a wild creature on my boat for the world — not for the whole world! He swears, he sings, he whistles, he yells — I never saw such an Injun to yell. All times of the night — it never made any difference to him. He would just yell that way, not for anything in particular, but merely on account of a kind of devilish comfort he got out of it. I never could get into a sound sleep but he would fetch me out of bed, all in a cold sweat, with one of those dreadful war-whoops. A queer being, — very queer being; no respect for anything or anybody. Sometimes he called me ‘Johnny.’ And he kept a fiddle, and a cat. He played execrably. This seemed to distress the cat, and so the cat would howl. Nobody could sleep where that man — and his family — was. And reckless ? There never was anything like it. Now you may believe it or not, but as sure as I am sitting here, he brought my boat a-tilting down through those awful snags at Chicot under a rattling head of steam, and the wind a-blowing like the very nation, at that! My officers will tell you so. They saw it. And, sir, while he was a-tearing right down through those snags, and I a-shaking in my shoes and praying, I wish I may

PUCKERING.    173

never speak again if he did n’t pucker up his mouth and go to whistling! Yes, sir; whistling ‘Buffalo gals, can’t you come out to-night, can’t you come out to-night, can’t you come out to-night; ’ and doing it as calmly as if we were attending a funeral and were n’t related to the corpse. And when I remonstrated with him about it, he smiled down on

“went to whistling.”

me as if I was his child, and told me to run in the house and try to be good, and not be meddling with my superiors ! ” 1 Once a pretty mean captain caught Stephen in New Orleans out of work and as usual out of money. He laid steady

1 Considering a captain’s ostentatious but hollow chieftainship, and a pilot’s real authority, there was something impudently apt and happy about that way of phrasing it.

174    STEPHEN CORNERED.

siege to Stephen, who was in a very “ close place,” and finally persuaded him to hire with him at one hundred and twenty-five dollars per month, just half wages, the captain agreeing not to divulge the secret and so bring down the contempt of all the guild upon the poor fellow. But the boat was not more than a day out of New Orleans before Stephen discovered that the captain was boasting of his exploit, and that all the officers had been told. Stephen winced, but said nothing. About the middle of the afternoon the captain stepped out on the hurricane deck, cast his eye around, and looked a good deal surprised. He glanced inquiringly aloft at Stephen, but Stephen was whistling placidly, and attending to business. The captain stood around a while in evident discomfort, and once or twice seemed about to make a suggestion ; but the etiquette of the river taught him to avoid that sort of rashness, and so he managed to hold his peace. He chafed and puzzled a few minutes longer, then retired to his apartments. But soon he was out again, and apparently more perplexed than ever. Presently he ventured to remark, with deference, —

“ Pretty good stage of the river now, ain’t it, sir ? ”

“ Well, I should say so ! Bank-full is a pretty liberal stage.”

“ Seems to be a good deal of current here.”

“ Good deal don’t describe it! It’s worse than a mill-race.”

“ Is n’t it easier in toward shore than it is out here in the middle ? ”

“ Yes, I reckon it is ; but a body can’t be too careful with a steamboat. It’s pretty safe out here; can’t strike any bottom here, you can depend on that.”

The captain departed, looking rueful enough. At this rate, he would probably die of old age before his boat got to St. Louis. Next day he appeared on deck and again found Stephen faithfully standing up the middle of the river, fighting the whole vast force of the Mississippi, and whistling

STEPHEN TRUMPS THE TRICK.    175

the same placid tune. This thing was becoming serious. In by the shore was a slower boat clipping along in the easy water and gaining steadily; she began to make for an island chute; Stephen stuck to the middle of the river. Speech was wrung from the captain. He said, —

“ Mr. W , don’t that chute cut off a good deal of

distance ? ”

“ I think it does, but I don’t know.”

“ Don’t know ! Well, isn’t there water enough in it now to go through ? ”

“ I expect there is, but I am not certain.”

“ Upon my word this is odd! Why, those pilots on that boat yonder are going to try it. Do you mean to say that you don’t know as much as they do ? ”

u They ! Why, they are two-liundred-and-fifty-dollar pilots! But don’t you he uneasy; I know as much as any man can afford to know for a hundred and twenty-five ! ”

The captain surrendered.

Five minutes later Stephen was bowling through the chute and showing the rival boat a two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar pair of heels.

CHAPTER XV.

THE PILOTS’ MONOPOLY.

NE day, on board the “ Aleck Scott,” my chief, Mr.


Bixby, was crawling carefully through a close place at Cat Island, both leads going, and everybody holding his breath. The captain, a nervous, apprehensive man, kept still as long as he could, but finally broke down-and shouted from the hurricane deck, —

“ For gracious’ sake, give her steam, Mr. Bixby ! give her steam! She ’11 never raise the reef on this headway ! ”

For all the effect that was produced upon Mr. Bixby, one would have supposed that no remark had been made. But five minutes later, when the danger was past and the leads laid in, he burst instantly into a consuming fury, and gave the captain the most admirable cursing I ever listened to. No bloodshed ensued; but that was because the captain’s cause was weak; for ordinarily he was not a man to take correction quietly.

Having now set forth in detail the nature of the science of piloting, and likewise described the rank which the pilot held among the fraternity of steamboatmen, this seems a fitting place to say a few words about an organization which the pilots once formed for the protection of their guild. It was curious and noteworthy in this, that it was perhaps the compactest, the completest, and the strongest commercial organization ever formed among men.

For a long time wages had been two hundred and fifty dollars a month; but curiously enough, as steamboats multiplied and business increased, the wages began to fall little by

PILOTS AND CUBS.    177

little. It was easy to discover the reason of this. Too many pilots were being “ made.” It was nice to have a “ cub,” a steersman, to do all the hard work for a couple of years,

came to pass that nearly every pilot on the river had a steersman. When a steersman had made an amount of progress that was satisfactory to any two pilots in the trade, they could get a pilot’s license for him by signing an application directed to the United States In-12

178    THE PILOTS’ BENEVOLENT.

spector. Nothing further was needed ; usually no questions were asked, no proofs of capacity required.

Very well, this growing swarm of new pilots presently began to undermine the wages, in order to get berths. Too late— apparently — the knights of the tiller perceived their mistake. Plainly, something had to he done, and quickly; but what was to be the needful thing ? A close organization. ^ Nothing else would answer. To compass this seemed an impossibility; so it was talked, and talked, and then dropped. It was too likely to ruin whoever ventured to move in the matter. But at last about a dozen of the boldest — and some of them the best — pilots on the river launched themselves into the enterprise and took all'the chances. They got a special charter from the legislature, with large powers, under the name of the Pilots’ Benevolent Association; elected their officers, completed their organization, contributed capital, put “association” wages up to two hundred and fifty dollars at once — and then retired to their homes, for they were promptly discharged from employment. But there were two or three unnoticed trifles in their by-laws which had the seeds of propagation in them. For instance, all idle members of the association, in good standing, were entitled to a pension of twenty-five dollars per month. This began to bring in one straggler after another from the ranks of the new-fledged pilots, in the dull (summer) season. Better have twenty-five dollars than starve; the initiation fee was only twelve dollars, and no dues required from the unemployed.

Also, the widows of deceased members in good standing could draw twenty-five dollars per month, and a certain sum for each of their children. Also, the said deceased would be buried at the association’s expense. These things resurrected all the superannuated and forgotten pilots in the Mississippi Talley. They came from farms, they.came from interior villages, they came from everywhere. They, came on crutches, on drays, in ambulances, — any way, so they got there. They

THE RESURRECTION.    179

paid in their twelve dollars, and straightway began to draw out twenty-five dollars a month and calculate their burial bills.

By and by, all the useless, helpless pilots, and a dozen first-class ones, were in the association, and nine tenths of the best pilots out of it and laughing at it. It was the laughing-stock of the whole river. Everybody joked about the by-law requiring mem

worthless pilots out of the

way and leaving the whole field to the excellent and the deserving; and everybody was not only jocularly grateful for that, but for a result which naturally followed, namely, the gradual advance of wages as the busy season approached. Wages had gone up from the low figure of one hundred dollars a month to one hundred and twenty-five, and in some

180    A LONG LANE.

cases to one hundred and fifty; and it was great fnn to enlarge upon the. fact that this, charming thing had been accomplished by a body of men not one of whom received a particle of benefit from it. Some of the jokers used to call at the association rooms and have a good time chaffing the members and offering them the charity of taking them as steersmen for a trip, so that they could see what the forgotten river looked like. However, the association was content; or at least it gave no sign to the contrary. Now and then it captured a pilot who was “ out of luck,” and added him to its list; and these later additions were very valuable, for they were good pilots ; the incompetent ones had all been absorbed before. As business freshened, wages climbed gradually up to two hundred and fifty dollars — the association figure — and became firmly fixed there; and still without benefiting a member of that body, for no member was hired. The hilarity at the association’s expense burst all bounds, now. There was no end to the fun which that poor martyr had to put up with.

However, it is a long lane that has no turning. Winter approached, business doubled and trebled, and an avalanche of Missouri, Illinois, and Upper Mississippi River boats came pouring down to take a chance in the New Orleans trade. All of a sudden, pilots were in great demand, and were correspondingly scarce. The time for revenge was come. It was a bitter pill to have to accept association pilots at last, yet captains and owners agreed that there was no other way. But none of these outcasts offered! So there was a still bitterer pill to be swallowed: they must be sought out and

asked for their services. Captain - was the first man

who found it necessary to take the dose, and he had been the loudest derider of the organization. He hunted up one of the best of the association pilots and said, —

“ Well, you boys have rather got the best of us for a little while, so I ’11 give in with as good a grace as I can. I’ve come to hire you; get your trunk aboard right away. I want to leave at twelve o’clock.”

PLAY OR PAY.    181

“ I don’t know about that. Who is your other pilot ? ”

. .“I’ve got I. S . " Why ?”

“I can’t go with him. He don’t belong to the association.”

“ What! ”

“ It’s so.”

aHo you mean to tell me that you won’t turn a wheel with one of the very best and oldest pilots on the river because he don’t belong to your association ? ”

“Yes, I do.”

“ Well, if this is n’t putting on airs ! I supposed I was doing you a benevolence; but I begin to think that I am the party that wants a favor done. Are you acting under a law of the concern ? ”

“ Yes.”

“ Show it to me.”

- So they stepped into the association rooms, and the secretary soon satisfied the captain, who said, —

“ Well, what am I to do ? I have hired Mr. S for the

entire season.”

“I will provide for you,” said the secretary. “I will detail a pilot to go with you, and he shall be on board at twelve o’clock.”

“ But if I discharge S , he will come on me for the

whole season’s wages.”

“ Of course that is a matter between you and Mr. S ,

captain. We cannot meddle in your private affairs.”

The captain stormed, but to no purpose. In the end he

had to discharge S , pay him about a thousand dollars,

and take an association pilot in Ins place. The laugh was beginning to turn the other way, now. Every day, thenceforward, a new victim fell; every day some outraged captain discharged a non-association pet, with tears and profanity, and installed a hated association man in his berth. In a very little while, idle non-associationists began to be pretty plenty, brisk as business was, and much as their services

182    A SHORT TRIUMPH.

were desired. The laugh was shifting to the other side of their mouths most palpably. These victims, together with the captains and owners, presently ceased to laugh altogether, and began to rage about the revenge they would take when the passing business “ spurt ” was over.

Soon all the laughers that were left were the owners and crews of boats that had two non-association pilots. But their triumph was not very long-lived. For this reason: It was a

“the captain stormed.”

rigid rule of the association that its members should never, under any circumstances whatever, give information about the channel to any “ outsider.” By this time about half the boats had none but association pilots, and the other half had none but outsiders. At the first glance one would suppose

RIGID RULES.    183

that when it came to forbidding information about the river these two parties could play equally at that game; but this was not so. At every good-sized town from one end of the river to the other, there was a “ wharf-boat ” to land at, instead of a wharf or a pier. Freight was stored in it for transportation; waiting passengers slept in its cabins. Upon


each of these wharf-boats the association’s officers placed a strong box, fastened with a peculiar lock

which was used in no other service but one — the United States mail service. It was the letter-bag lock, a sacred governmental thing. By dint of much beseeching the government had been persuaded

184    TRIP REPORTS.

to allow the association to use this lock. Every association man carried a key which would open these boxes. That key, or rather a peculiar way of holding it in the hand when its owner was asked for river information by a stranger, — for the success of the St. Louis and New Orleans association had now bred tolerably thriving branches in a dozen neighboring steamboat trades, — was the association man’s sign and diploma of membership; and if the stranger did not respond by producing a similar key and holding it in a certain manner duly prescribed, his question was politely ignored. From the association’s secretary each member received a package of more or less gorgeous blanks, printed like a bill-head, on handsome paper, properly ruled in columns; a bill-head worded something like this : —

STEAMER GREAT REPUBLIC. r John Smith, Master.

Pilots, John Jones and Thomas Brown.

These blanks were filled up, day by day, as the voyage progressed, and deposited in the several wharf-boat boxes. For instance, as soon as the first crossing, out from St. Louis, was completed, the items would be entered upon the blank, under the appropriate headings, thus : —

“ St. Louis. Nine and a half (feet). Stern on courthouse, head on dead cottonwood above wood-yard, until you raise the first reef, then pull up square.” Then under head of Remarks : “ Go just outside the wrecks ; this is important. New snag just where you straighten down; go above it.”

The pilot who deposited that blank in the Cairo box (after adding to it the details of every crossing all the way down from St. Louis) took out and read half a dozen fresh reports (from upward-bound steamers) concerning the river

AN ADMIRABLE SYSTEM.    185

between Cairo and Memphis, posted himself thoroughly, returned them to the box, and went back aboard his boat again so armed against accident that he could not possibly get his boat into trouble without bringing the most ingenious carelessness to his aid.

Imagine the benefits of so admirable a system in a piece of river twelve or thirteen hundred miles long, whose channel was shifting every day! The pilot who had formerly been obliged to put up with seeing a shoal place once or possibly twice a month, had a hundred sharp eyes to watch it for him, now, and bushels of intelligent brains to tell him how to run it. His information about it was seldom twenty-four hours old. If the reports in the last box chanced to leave any misgivings on his mind concerning a treacherous crossing, he had his remedy; he blew his steam-whistle in a peculiar way as soon as he saw a boat approaching; the signal was answered in a peculiar way if that boat’s pilots were association men; and then the two steamers ranged alongside and all uncertainties were swept away by fresh information furnished to the inquirer by word of mouth and in minute detail.

The first thing a pilot did when he reached New Orleans or St. Louis was to take his final and elaborate report to the association parlors and hang it up there, — after which he was free to visit his family. In these parlors a crowd was always gathered together, discussing changes in the channel, and the moment there was a fresh arrival, everybody stopped talking till this witness had told the newest news and settled the latest uncertainty. Other craftsmen can “ sink the shop,” sometimes, and interest themselves in'other matters. Not so with a pilot; he must devote himself wholly to his profession and talk of nothing else ; for it would be small gain to be perfect one day and imperfect the next. He has no time or words to waste if he would keep “ posted.”

But the outsiders had a hard time of it.' No particular place to meet and exchange information, no wharf-boat re-

186    A LOGICAL RESULT.

ports, none but chance and unsatisfactory ways of getting news. The consequence was that a man sometimes had to run five hundred miles of river on information that was a week or ten days old. At a fair stage of the river that might have answered; but when the dead low water came it was destructive.    %

‘posting his report.

Now came another perfectly logical result. The outsiders began to ground steamboats, sink them, and get into all sorts of trouble, whereas accidents seemed to keep entirely away from the association men. Wherefore even the owners and captains of boats furnished exclusively with outsiders, and previously considered to be wholly independent of the

THE UNDERWRITERS STEP IN.    187

association and free to comfort themselves with brag and laughter, began to feel pretty uncomfortable. Still, they made a show of keeping up the brag, until one black day when every captain of the lot was formally ordered to immediately discharge his outsiders and take association pilots in their stead. And who was it that had the dashing presumption to do that ? Alas, it came from a power behind the throne that was greater than the throne itself. It was the underwriters!

It was no time to “ swap knives.” Every outsider had to take his trunk ashore at once.. Of course it was supposed that there was collusion between the association and the underwriters, but this was not so. The latter had come to comprehend the excellence of the “ report” system of the association and the safety it secured, and so they had made their decision among themselves and upon plain business principles.

There was weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth in the camp of the outsiders now. But no matter, there was but one course for them to pursue, and they pursued it. They came forward in couples and groups, and proffered their twelve dollars and asked for membership. They were surprised to learn that several new by-laws had been long ago added. For instance, the initiation fee had been raised to fifty dollars; that sum must be tendered, and also ten per cent of the wages which the applicant had received each and every month since the founding of the association. In many cases this amounted to three or four hundred dollars. Still, the association would not entertain the application until the money was present. Even then a single adverse vote killed the application. Every member had to vote yes or no in person and before witnesses ; so it took weeks to decide a candidacy, because many pilots were so long absent on voyages. However, the repentant sinners scraped their savings together, and one by one, by our tedious voting process, they were added to the fold. A time came, at last, when

188    COSTS MORE TO COME IN.

only about ten remained outside. They said they would starve before they would apply. They remained idle a long while, because of course nobody could venture to employ them.

By and by the association published the fact that upon a certain date the wages -------~h'F~

ADDED TO THE FOLD.

would be raised to    BEKLYOLEKff

five hundred dol- . r. n „ lars per month. All A^SOCI AT! ON. the branch associa-tions had grown strong, now, and the Red River one had advanced wages to seven hundred dollars a month. Reluctantly the ten outsiders yielded, in view of these things, and made application. There was another new by-law, by this time, which required them to pay dues not only on all the wages they had received since the association was born, but also on what they would have received if they had continued at work up to the time of their application, instead of going off to pout in idleness. It turned out to be a difficult matter to elect them, but it was accomplished at last. The most virulent sinner of this batch had stayed out and allowed “ dues ” to accumulate against him so long that he had to send in six hundred and twenty-five dollars with his application.

A GRAND SUCCESS.    189

The association had a good hank account now, and was very strong. There was no longer an outsider. A by-law was added forbidding the reception of any more cubs or apprentices for five years ; after which time a limited number would be taken, not by individuals, but by the association, upon these terms: the applicant must not be less than eighteen years old, and of respectable family and good character ; he must pass an examination as to education, pay a thousand dollars in advance for the privilege of becoming an apprentice, and must remain under the commands of the association until a great part of the membership (more than half, I think) should be willing to sign his application for a pilot’s license.

All previously-articled apprentices were now taken away from their masters and adopted by the association. The president and secretary detailed them for service on one boat or another, as they chose, and changed them from boat to boat according to certain rules. If a pilot could show that he was in infirm health and needed assistance, one of the cubs would be ordered to go with him.

The widow and orphan list grew, but so did the association’s financial resources. The association attended its own funerals in state, and paid for them., When occasion demanded, it sent members down the river upon searches for the bodies of brethren lost by steamboat accidents ; a search of this kind sometimes cost a thousand dollars.

The association procured a charter and went into the insurance business, also. It not only insured the lives of its members, but took risks on steamboats.

The organization seemed indestructible. It was the tightest monopoly in the world. By the United States law, no man could become a pilot unless two duly licensed pilots signed his application; and now there was nobody outside of the association competent to sign. Consequently the making of pilots was at an end. Every year some would die and others become incapacitated by age and infirmity;

190    THE LAST OBSTRUCTION.

there would be no new ones to take their places. In time, the association could put wages up to any figure it chose; and as long as it should be wise enough not to carry the thing too far and provoke the national government into ^amending the licensing system, steamboat owners would have to submit, since there would be no help for it.

tween the association and absolute power; and at last this one was removed. Incredible as it may seem, the owners and captains deliberately did it themselves. When the pilots’ association announced, months beforehand, that on the first day of September, 1861, wages would be advanced to five hundred dollars per month, the

FINES AND ADVANCES.    191

owners and captains instantly put freights up a few cents, and explained to the farmers along the river the necessity of it, by calling their attention to the burdensome rate of wages about to be established. It was a rather slender argument, but the farmers did not seem to detect it. . It looked reasonable to them that to add five cents freight on a bushel of corn was justifiable under the circumstances, overlooking the fact that this advance on a cargo of forty thousand sacks was a good deal more than necessary to cover the new wages.

So, straightway the captains and owners got up an association of their own, and proposed to put captains’ wages up to five hundred dollars, too, and move for another advance in freights. It was a novel idea, but of course an effect which had been produced once could be produced again. The new association decreed (for this was before all the outsiders had been taken into the pilots’ association) that if any captain employed a non-association pilot, he should be forced to discharge him, and also pay a fine of five hundred dollars. Several of these heavy fines were paid before the captains’ organization grew strong enough to exercise full authority over its membership ; but that all ceased, presently. The captains tried to get the pilots to decree that no member of their corporation should serve under a non-association captain ; but this proposition was declined.. The pilots saw that they would be backed up by the captain s 'and the underwriters anyhow, and so they wisely refrained from entering into entangling alliances.

As I have remarked, the pilots’ association was now the c'ompactest monopoly in the world, perhaps, and seemed simply indestructible. And yet the days of its glory were numbered. First, the new railroad stretching up through Mississippi, Tennessee, and Kentucky, to Northern railway centres, began to divert the passenger travel from the steamers ; next the war came and almost entirely annihilated the steamboating industry during several years, leaving most of

192    A VULGAR DIVERSION.

the pilots idle, and the cost of living advancing all the time; then the treasurer of the St. Louis association put his hand into the till and walked off with every dollar of the ample fund ; and finally, the railroads intruding everywhere, there was little for steamers to do, when the war was over, but carry freights ; so straightway some* genius from the Atlantic coast introduced the plan of towing a dozen steamer cargoes down to New Orleans at the tail of a vulgar little tug-boat; and behold, in the twinkling of an eye, as it were, the association and the noble science of piloting were things of the dead and pathetic past!

CHAPTER XVI.

RACING DAYS.

IT was always the custom for the boats to leave New Orleans between four and five o’clock in the afternoon. From three o’clock onward they would be burning rosin and pitch pine (the sign of preparation), and so one had the picturesque spectacle of a rank, some two or three miles long, of tall, ascending columns of coal-black smoke ; a colonnade which supported a sable roof of the same smoke blended together and spreading abroad over the city. Every outward-bound boat had its flag ftying at the jack-staff, and sometimes a duplicate on the verge staff astern. Two or three miles of mates were commanding and swearing with more than usual emphasis ; countless processions of freight barrels and boxes were spinning athwart the levee and flying aboard the stage-pianks ; belated passengers were dodging and skipping among these frantic things, hoping to reach the forecastle companion way alive, but having their doubts about it; women with reticules and bandboxes were trying to keep up with husbands freighted with carpet-sacks and crying babies, and making a failure of it by losing their heads in the whirl and roar and general distraction ; drays and baggage-vans were clattering hither and thither in a wild hurry, every now and then getting blocked and jammed together, and then during ten seconds one, could not see them for the profanity, except vaguely and dimly ; every windlass connected with every fore-hatch, from one end of that long array of steamboats to the other, was keeping up

194    STARTING TIME.

a deafening whiz and whir, lowering freight into the hold, and the half-naked crews of perspiring negroes that worked them were roaring such songs as “ De Las’ Sack ! De Las’ Sack ! ”—inspired to unimaginable exaltation by the chaos of turmoil and racket that was driving everybody else mad. By this time the hurricane and boiler decks of the steamers would be packed and black with passengers. The “ last bells” would begin to clang, all down the line, and then the powwow seemed to double; in a moment or two the final warning came, — a simultaneous din of Chinese gongs, with the cry, “ All dat ain’t goin’, please to git asho’! ” — and behold, the powwow quadrupled! People came swarming ashore, overturning excited stragglers that were trying to swarm aboard. One more moment later a long array of stage-planks was being hauled in, each with its customary latest passenger clinging to the end of it with teeth, nails, and everything else, and the customary latest procrastinator making a wild spring shoreward over his head.

Now a number of the boats slide backward into the stream, leaving wide gaps in the serried rank of steamers. Citizens crowd the decks of boats that are not to go, in order to see the sight. Steamer after steamer straightens herself up, gathers all her strength, and presently comes swinging by, under a tremendous head of steam, with flag flying, black smoke rolling, and her entire crew of firemen and deck-hands (usually swarthy negroes) massed together on the forecastle, the best “ voice ” in the lot towering from the midst (being mounted on the capstan), waving his hat or a flag, and all roaring a mighty chorus, while the parting cannons boom and the multitudinous spectators swing their hats and huzza! Steamer after steamer falls into line, and the stately procession goes winging its flight up the river.

In the old times, whenever two fast boats started out on a race, with a big crowd of people looking on, it was inspiring to hear the crews sing, especially if the time were night-fall, and the forecastle lit up with the red glare of the torcli-baskets.

STEAMBOAT time.


RACING AND DROWSING.    197

Racing was royal fun. The public always had an idea that racing was dangerous ; whereas the opposite was the case—-that is, after the laws were passed which restricted each boat to just so many pounds of steam to the square inch. No engineer was ever sleepy or careless when his heart was in a race. He was constantly on the alert, trying gauge-cocks and watching things. The dangerous place was on slow, plodding boats, where the engineers drowsed around and allowed chips to get into the “doctor” and shut off the water supply from the boilers.

In the “ flush times” of steam-boating, a race between two notoriously fleet steamers was an event of vast importance. The date was set for it several weeks in advance, and from that time forward, the whole Mississippi Yalley was in a state of consuming excitement. Politics and the weather were dropped, and people talked only of the coming race. As the time approached, the two steamers “ stripped ” and got ready. Every incumbrance that added weight, or exposed a resisting surface to wind or water, was removed, if the boat could possibly do without it. The “ spars,” and sometimes even their supporting derricks,

198    TRIMMED TO A BALANCE.

were sent ashore, and no means left to set the boat afloat in case she got aground. When the “ Eclipse” and the “ A. L. Shotwell ” ran their great race many years ago, it was said that pains were taken to scrape the gilding off the fanciful device which hung between the “ Eclipse’s ” chimneys, and that for that one trip the captain left off his kid gloves and had his head shaved. But I always doubted-these things.

If the boat was known to make her best speed when drawing five and a half feet forward and five feet aft, she was carefully loaded to that exact figure — she wouldn’t enter a dose of homoeopathic pills on her manifest after that. Hardly any passengers were taken, because they not only add weight but they never will “ trim boat.” They always run to the side when there is anything to see, whereas a conscientious and experienced steamboatman would stick to the centre of the boat and part his hair in the middle with a spirit level.

No way-freights and no way-passengers were allowed, for the racers would stop only at the largest towns, and then it would be only “ touch and go.” Coal flats and wood flats were contracted for beforehand, and these were kept ready to hitch on to the flying steamers at a moment’s warning. Double crews were carried, so that all work could be quickly done.

The chosen date being come, and all things in readiness, the two great steamers back into the stream, and lie there jock eying a moment, and apparently watching each other’s slightest movement, like sentient creatures ; flags drooping, the pent steam shrieking through safety-valves, the black smoke rolling and tumbling from the chimneys and darkening all the air. People, people everywhere; the shores, the house-tops, the steamboats, the ships, are packed with them, and you know that the borders of the broad Mississippi are going to be fringed with humanity thence northward twelve hundred miles, to welcome these racers.

Presently tall columns of steam burst from the ’scape-

THE PARTING GUN.    199

pipes of both steamers, two guns boom a good-by, two red-shirted heroes mounted on capstans wave their small flags above the massed crews on the forecastles, two plaintive

two mighty choruses burst forth — and here they come 1 Brass bands bray Hail Co-

BRASS BANDS BRAY.    lumbia,    llUZZS

after huzza

thunders from the shores, and the stately creatures go whistling by like the wind.

Those boats will never halt a moment between New Orleans

200    A CLOSE MATCH.

and St. Louis, except for a second 01* two at large towns, or to hitch tliirty-cord wood-boats alongside. You should be on hoard when they take a couple of those wood-boats in tow and turn a swarm of men into each; by the time you have wiped your glasses and put them on, you will be wondering what has become of that wood.

Two nicely matched steamers will stay in sight of each other day after day. They might even stay side by side, hut for the fact that pilots are not all alike, and the smartest pilots will win the race. If one of the boats has a “ lightning ” pilot, whose “ partner ” is a trifle his inferior, you can tell which one is on watch by noting whether that boat has gained ground or lost some during each four-hour stretch. The shrewdest pilot can delay a boat if he has not a fine genius for steering. Steering is a very high art. One must not keep a rudder dragging across a boat’s stern if he wants to get up the river fast.

There is a great difference in boats, of course. For a long time I was on a boat that was so slow we used to forget what year it was we left port in. But of course this was at rare intervals. Ferry-boats used to lose valuable trips because their passengers grew old and died, waiting for us to get by. This was at still rarer intervals. I had the documents for these occurrences, but through carelessness they have been mislaid. This boat, the “ John J. Roe,” was so slow that when she finally sunk in Madrid Bend, it was five years before the owners heard of it. That was always a confusing fact to me, but it is according to the record, any way. She was dismally slow; still, we often had pretty exciting times racing with islands, and rafts, and such things. One trip, however, we did rather well. We went to St. Louis in sixteen days. But even at this rattling gait I think we ehanged watches three times in Fort Adams reach, which is five miles long. A “ reach ” is a piece of straight river, and of course the current drives through such a place in a pretty lively way.

THE PARTING CHORUS.    201

days (three hun-the parting chorus.    dred    and    forty

miles); the

“Eclipse” and “ Rhotwell ” did it in one. We were nine days out, in the chute of 68 (seven hundred miles) ; the

202    SOME SHORT TRIPS.

“ Eclipse ” and “ Shotwell ” went there in two days. Something over a generation ago, a boat called the “ J. M. White ” went from New Orleans to Cairo in three days, six hours, and forty-four minutes. In 1853 the “Eclipse” made the same trip in three days, three hours, and twenty minutes.1 In 1870 the “ R. E. Lee ” did it in three days and one hour. This last is called the fastest trip on record. I will try to show that it was not. For this reason: the distance between New Orleans and Cairo, when the “ J. M. White ” ran it, was about eleven hundred and six miles; consequently her average speed was a trifle over fourteen miles per hour. In the “ Eclipse’s” day the distance between the two ports had become reduced to one thousand and eighty miles; consequently her average speed was a shade under fourteen and three eighths miles per hour. In the “R. E. Lee’s ” time the distance had diminished to about one thousand and thirty miles; consequently her average was about fourteen and one eighth miles per hour. Therefore the “ Eclipse’s ” was conspicuously the fastest time that has ever been made.

THE RECORD OF SOME FAMOUS TRIPS.

[From Commodore Rollingpin’s Almanac.]

FAST TIME ON THE WESTERN WATERS.

ritOM NEW ORLEANS TO NATCHEZ —268 MILES.

1814. Orleans made the

1814. “

1815.

1817.

1817.

1819.


Enterprise Washington Shelby Paragon Tecumseh Tuscarora Natchez Ed. Shippen Belle of the West


1834.


1844. Sultana .

1851. Magnolia 18-53. A. L. Shotwell 1853. Southern Belle 1853. Princess (No. 4) 1853. Eclipse 1855. Princess (New)

1855. Natchez (New)

1856. Princess (New) 1870. Natchez 1870. R. E. Lee


made the run ii


1

Time disputed. Some authorities add 1 hour and 16 minutes to this.

203


FAST TIMES.


Time Tables, t- Continued.

FROM'NEW ORLEANS TO CAIRO —1,024 MILES.


1869. Dexter . . .

1870. Natchez 1870. R. E. Lee


1844.

1852.

1853.


J. M. White made the r Reindeer    „

Eclipse    „

A. L. Shotwell ,,


made the run in 3    6    20


FROM NEW ORLEANS TO LOUISVILLE —1,440 MILES.

1815. Enterprise made the rux

D.

x in 25

H.

2

M.

40

1840.

Ed. Shippen made the run ii

D.

l 5

H.

14

31.

1817. Washington

„ 25

1842.

Belle of the West,, ,,

6

14

1817. Shelby „

„ 20

4

20

1843.

Duke of Orleans „ ,,

5

23

1819. Paragon „

„ 18

10

1844.

Sultana ,, ,,

5

12

1828. Tecumseb „

„ 8

4

1849.

Bostona ,, ,,

5

8

1834. Tuscarora „

16

1851.

Belle Key „ „

4

23

1837. Gen. Brown „

6

22

1852.

Reindeer ,,

4

20

45

1837. Randolph „

6

22

1852.

Eclipse „ „

4

19

1837. Empress ,,

» 6

17

1853.

A. L. Shotwell ,, ,,

4

10

20

1837. Sultana ,,

6

15

1853.

Eclipse ,, ,,

4

9

30

FROM NEW ORLEANS TO DONALDSVILLE — 78 MILES.


1852.    A. L- Shotwell inaue u

1852.    Eclipse    ,

1854.    Sultana    „

1856.    Princess


i run in 5    42


1860. Atlantic . . . made the run in 1860.    Gen. Quitman    „    ,,

1865.    Ruth    „    „

1870.    R. E. Lee    „    ,,


FROM NEW ORLEANS TO ST. LOUIS —1,218 MILES.


1844. J. M. White made the r 1849. Missouri 1869. Dexter


. made the run ii


FROM LOUISVILLE TO CINCINNATI—141 MILES.


12 20 11 45 10 38 10 23 9 52


1819. Gen. Pike made the r 1819. Paragon    ,

1822. Wheeling Packet,, 1837. Moselle 1843. Duke of Orleans „


1843. Congress . . made the ri 1846. Ben Franklin (No. 6) 1852. Allegliancy „

1852. Pittsburgh ,    ,,

1853. Telegraph No. 3 „


FROM LOUISVILLE TO ST. LOUIS —750 MILES.


FROM CINCINNATI TO PITTSBURG — 490 MILES.

D. H. |

1850. Telegraph No. 2 made the run in 1 17 1852. Pittsburgh . . . made the ri

1851. Buckeye State ,,    ,,    1 16 [


FROM ST. LOUIS TO ALTON —30 MILES.

it. sr. I    n.

I 35 1876. War Eagle . . . made the run in 1


1853. Altona .'. . . . made the ru 1876. Golden Eagle    „    „    1    37    |

MISCELLANEOUS RUNS.

In June, 1859, the St. Louis and Keokuk Packet, City of Louisiana, made the run from St. Louis to Keokuk (214 iniles) in 16 hours and 20 minutes, the best time on record.

In 1868 the steamer Ilawkeye State, of the Northern Line Packet Company, made the run from St. Louis to St. Paul (800 miles) in 2 days and 20 hours. Never was beaten.

In 1853 the steamer Polar Star made the run from St. Louis to St. Joseph, on the Missouri River, in 64 hours. In July, 1856, the steamer Jas. H. Lucas, Andy Wineland, Master, made the same run in 60 hours and 57 minutes. The distance between the ports is 600 miles, and when the difficulties of navigating the turbulent Missouri are taken into consideration, the performance of the Lucas deserves especial mention.


THE LEE AND THE NATCHEZ. Time Tables. — Continued.

TIIE RUN OF TIIE ROBERT E LEE.

The time made by the R. E. Lee from New Orleans to St. Louis in 1870, in her famous race with the Natchez, is the best on record, and, inasmuch as the race created a national interest, we give below her time table from port to port.

Left New Orleans, Thursday, June 30th, 1870, at 4 o’clock and 55 minutes, p. m. ; reached

Carrollton........  27^

Vicksburg........1

Milliken’s Bend.......1

Bailey’s.........1

Lake Providence......1

Greenville.........1

Napoleon.........1

White River........1

Australia.........1

Helena..........1

Half Mile Below St. Francis ...    2

Memphis.........2

Foot of Island 37......2

Foot of Island 26......2

Tow-head, Island 14.....2

New Madrid........2

Dry Bar No. 10.......2

Foot of Island 8.......2

Upper Tow-head — Lucas Bend .    3

Cairo..........3

St. Louis.........3

Harry Hills........ 1    00£

2 37

3 48 5 47

10 55 16 22 16 56 19

23 25

Red Church........ 1    39

Bonnet Carre........ 2    38

College Point....... 3    50£

Donaldsonville....... 4    59

Plaquemine........ 7    05J

Baton Rouge........ 8    25

Bayou Sara........ 10    26

Red River......... 12    56

Stamps.......... 13    56

Bryaro.......... 15    51J

Hinderson’s........ 16    29

Natchez......... 17    11

19 50

20 37

21 25

Cole’s Creek........ 19    21

Waterproof........ 18    53

Rodney......... 20    45

St. Joseph......... 21    02

Grand Cxulf........ 22    06

Hard Times........ 22    18

Half Mile Below Warrenton ... 1

The Lee landed at St. Louis at 11.25 a.m., on July 4th, 1870 —six hours and thirty-six minutes ahead of the Natchez. The officers of the Natchez claimed seven hours and one minute stoppage on account of fog and repairing machinery. The R. E. Lee was commanded by Captain John W. Cannon, and the Natchez was in charge of that veteran Southern boatman, Captain Thomas P. Leathers.

CHAPTER XVII.

CUT-OFFS AND STEPHEN.

ESE dry details are of importance in one particular.


They give me an opportunity of introducing one of the Mississippi’s oddest peculiarities, — that of shortening its length from time to time. If you will throw a long, pliant apple-paring over your shoulder, it will pretty fairly shape itself into an average section of the Mississippi River; that is, the nine or ten hundred miles stretching from Cairo, Illinois, southward to New Orleans, the same being wonderfully crooked, with a brief straight bit here and there at wide intervals. The two-hundred-mile stretch from Cairo northward to St. Louis is by no means so crooked, that being a rocky country which the river cannot cut much.

The water cuts the alluvial banks of the “ lower ” river into deep horseshoe curves; so deep, indeed, that in some places if you were to get ashore at one extremity of the horseshoe and walk across the neck, half or three quarters of a mile, you could sit down and rest a couple of hours while your steamer was coming around the long elbow, at a speed of ten miles an hour, to take you aboard again. When the river is rising fast, some scoundrel whose plantation is back in the country, and therefore of inferior value, has only to watch his chance, cut a little gutter across the narrow neck of land some dark night, and turn the water into it, and in a wonderfully short time a miracle has happened: to wit, the whole Mississippi has taken possession

206    WATCHING AND DIGGING.

of that little ditch, and placed the countryman’s plantation on its bank (quadrupling its value), and that other party’s formerly valuable plantation finds itself away out yonder on a big island; the old watercourse around it will soon shoal up, boats cannot approach within ten miles of it, and down goes its value to a fourth of its former worth. Watches are kept on those narrow necks, at needful times, and if a man happens to be caught cutting a ditch across them, the chances are all against his ever having another opportunity to cut a ditch.

DANGEROUS DITCHING.

Pray observe some of the effects of this ditching business. Once there was a neck opposite Port Hudson, Louisiana, which was only half a mile across, in its narrowest place. You could walk across there in fifteen minutes; but if you made the journey around the cape on a raft, you travelled thirty-five miles to accomplish the same thing. In 1722 the river darted through that neck, deserted its old bed, and thus shortened itself thirty-five miles. In the same way it shortened itself twenty-five miles at Black Hawk Point in 1699. Below Red River Landing, Raccourci cut-off was made (forty or fifty years ago, I think). This shortened the river twenty-eight miles. In our day, if you travel by river from the southernmost of these three cut-offs to the northernmost,

SOME CUT-OFFS.    207

you go only seventy miles. To do the same thing a hundred and seventy-six years ago, one had to go a hundred and fifty-eight miles! — a shortening of eighty-eight miles in that trifling distance. At some forgotten time in the past, cutoffs were made above Yidalia, Louisiana; at island 92 ; at island 84 ; and at Hale’s Point. These shortened the river, in the aggregate, seventy-seven miles.

Since my own day on the Mississippi, cut-offs have been made at Hurricane Island ; at island 100 ; at Napoleon, Arkansas; at Walnut Bend; and at Council Bend.

These shortened the river, in the aggregate, sixty - se ven miles.

In my own time a cut-off was made at Amer-ican Bend, which shortened the river ten miles or more.

Therefore, the Mississippi between Cairo and J New Orleans was twelve hundred !. and fifteen miles long one hun-    a.    scientist.

dred and seventy-six years ago.

It was eleven hundred and eighty after the cut-off of 1722. It was one thousand and forty after the American Bend cut-off. It has lost sixty-seven miles since. Consequently its length is only nine hundred and seventy-three miles at present.

208    MARVELLOUS CHANGES.

Now, if I wanted to be one of those ponderous scientific people, and “ let on ” to prove what had occurred in the remote past by what had occurred in a given time in the recent past, or what will occur in the far future by what has occurred in late years, what an opportunity is here ! Geology never had such a chance, nor such exact data to argue from! Nor “ development of species,” either ! Glacial epochs are great things, but they are vague — vague. Please observe: —

In the space of one hundred and seventy-six years the Lower Mississippi has shortened itself two hundred and forty-two miles. That is an average of a trifle over one mile and a third per year. Therefore, any calm person, who is not blind or idiotic, can see that in the Old Oolitic Silurian Period, just a million years ago next November, the Lower Mississippi River was upwards of one million three hundred thousand miles long, and stuck out over the Gulf of Mexico like a fishing-rod. And by the same token any person can see that seven hundred and forty-two years from now the Lower . Mississippi will be only a mile and three quarters long, and Cairo and New Orleans will have joined their streets together, and be plodding comfortably along under a single mayor and a mutual board of aldermen. There is something fascinating about science. One gets such wholesale returns of conjecture out of such a trifling investment of fact.

When the water begins to flow through one of those ditches I have been speaking of, it is time for the people thereabouts to move. The water cleaves the banks away like a knife. By the time the ditch has become twelve or fifteen feet wide, the calamity is as good as accomplished, for no power on earth can stop' it now. When the width has reached a hundred yards, the banks begin to peel off in slices half an acre wide. The current flowing around the bend travelled formerly only five miles an hour; now it is tremendously increased by the shortening of the distance. I was on board the first boat that tried to go through the

TOO AMBITIOUS.    209

cut-off at American Bend, but we did not get through. It was toward midnight, and a wild night it was — thunder, lightning, and torrents of rain. It was estimated that the current in the cut-off was making about fifteen or twenty-miles an hour; twelve or thirteen was the best our boat could do, even in tolerably slack water, therefore perhaps we were foolish to try the cut-off. However, Mr. Brown


was ambitious, and he kept on trying. The eddy running up the bank, under the “point,” was about as swift as the current out in the middle ; so we would go flying up

the shore like a lightning express train, get on a big head of steam, and “ stand by for a surge ” when we struck the current that was whirling by the point. But all our preparations were useless. The instant the current hit us it spun us around like a top, the water deluged the forecastle, and the boat careened so far over that one could hardly keep his feet. The next instant we were 14

210    PILOTS’ PERPLEXITIES.

away down the river, clawing with might and main to keep out of the woods. We tried the experiment four times. I stood on the forecastle companion way to see. It was astonishing to observe how suddenly the boat would spin around and turn tail the moment she emerged from the eddy and the current struck her nose. The sounding concussion and the. quivering would have been about the same if she had come full speed against a sand-bank. Under the lightning flashes one could see the plantation cabins and the goodly acres tumble into the river; and the crash they made was not a bad effort at thunder. Once, when we spun around, we only missed a house about twenty feet, that had a light burning in the window; and in the same instant that house went overboard. Nobody could stay on our forecastle; the water swept across it in a torrent every time we plunged athwart the current. At the end of our fourth effort we brought up in the woods two miles below the cut-off ; all the country there was overflowed, of course. A day or two later the cut-off was three quarters of a mile wide, and boats passed up through it without much difficulty, and so saved ten miles.

The old Kaccourci cut-off reduced the river’s length twenty-eight miles. There used to be a tradition connected with it. It was said that a boat came along there in the night and went around the enormous elbow the usual way, the pilots not knowing that the cut-off had been made. It was a grisly, hideous night, and all shapes were vague and distorted. The old bend had already begun to fill up, and the boat got to running away from mysterious reefs, and occasionally hitting one. The perplexed pilots fell to swearing, and finally uttered the entirely unnecessary wish that they might never get out of that place. As always happens in such cases, that particular prayer was answered, and the others neglected. So to this day that phantom steamer is still butting around in that deserted river, trying to find her way out. More than one grave watchman has sworn to me that on drizzly, dismal

THE SPECTRAL STEAMBOAT.    211

THE SPECTRE STEAMER.

nights, lie has glanced fearfully down that forgotten river as he passed the head of the island, and seen the faint glow of the spectre steamer’s lights drifting through the distant gloom, and heard the muffled cough of her ’scape-pipes and the plaintive cry of her leads-men.

In the absence of further statistics, I beg to close this chapter with one more reminiscence of “ Stephen.”

%

Most of the captains and pilots held Stephen’s note for borrowed sums, ranging from two hundred and fifty dollars upward. Stephen never paid one of these notes, but he was very prompt and very zealous about renewing them every twelve month.

Of course there came a time, at last, when Stephen could no longer borrow of his ancient creditors ; so he was obliged to lie in wait for new men who did not know him. Such a victim was good-hearted, simple-natured young Yates (I use

212    INNOCENT YATES.

a fictitious name, but the real name began, as this one does, with a Y). Young Yates graduated as a pilot, got a berth, and when the month was ended and he stepped up to the clerk’s office and received his two hundred and fifty dollars in crisp new bills, Stephen was there! His silvery tongue began to wag, and in a very little while Yates’s two hundred and fifty dollars had chatiged hands. The fact was soon known at pilot headquarters, and the amusement and satisfaction of the old creditors were large and generous. But innocent Yates never suspected that Stephen’s promise to pay promptly at the end of the week was a worthless one. Yates called for his money at the stipulated time; Stephen sweetened him up and put him off a week. He called then, according to agreement, and came away sugar-coated again, but suffering under another postponement. So the thing went on. Yates haunted Stephen week after week, to no purpose, and at last gave it up. And then straightway Stephen began to haunt Yates ! Wherever Yates appeared, there was the inevitable Stephen. And not only there, but beaming with affection and gushing with apologies for not being able to pay. By and by, whenever poor Yates saw him coming, he would turn and fly, and drag his company with him, if he had company; but it was of no use; his debtor would run him down and corner him. Panting and red-faced, Stephen would come, with outstretched hands and eager eyes, invade the conversation, shake both of Yates’s arms loose in their sockets, and begin : —

“ My, what a race I’ve had! I saw you did n’t see me, and so I clapped on all steam for fear I’d miss you entirely. And. here you are! there, just stand so, and let me look at you! Just the same old noble countenance.” [To Yates’s friend:] “ Just look at him! Looh at him ! Ain’t it just good to look at him ! Ain't-it now ? Ain’t he just a picture ! Some call him a picture ; I call him a panorama ! That’s what he is — an entire panorama. And now I’m reminded ! How I do wish I could have seen you an hour earlier! For

WILY STEPHEN.    213

twenty-four hours I’ve been saving up that two hundred and fifty dollars for you; been looking for you everywhere. I

“ MY, WHAT A RACE I *VE HAD ! ”

waited at the Planter’s from six yesterday evening till two o’clock this morning, without rest or food ; my wife says, ‘ Where have you been all night ? ’ I said, ‘ This debt lies

214    A NEW WAY

heavy on my mind.’ She says, ‘ In all my days I never saw a man take a debt to heart the way you do.’ I said, ‘ It’s my nature ; how can I change it ? ’ She says, ‘ Well, do go to bed and get some rest.’ I said, ‘Not till that poor, noble young man has got his money.’ So I set up all night, and this morning out I shot, and the first man I struck told me you had shipped on the ‘ Grank Turk ’ and gone to New Orleans. Well, sir, I had to lean up against a building and cry. So help me goodness, I could n’t help it. The man that owned the place come out cleaning up with a rag, and said he did n’t like to have people cry against his building, and then it seemed to me that the whole world had turned against me, and it was n’t any use to live any more ; and coming along an hour ago, suffering no man knows what agony, I met Jim Wilson and paid him the two hundred and fifty dollars on account; and to think that here you are, now, and I have n’t got a cent! But as sure as I am standing here on this ground on this particular brick, — there, I’ve scratched a mark on the brick to remember it by, — I ’11 borrow that money and pay it over to you at twelve o’clock sharp, to-morrow! Now, stand so; let me look at you just once more.”

And so on. Yates’s life became a burden to him. He could not escape his debtor and his debtor’s awful sufferings on account of not being able to pay. He dreaded to show himself in the street, lest he should find Stephen lying in wait for him at the corner.

Bogart’s billiard saloon was a great resort for pilots in those days. They met there about as much to exchange river news as to play. One morning Yates was there; Stephen was there, too, but kept out of sight. But by and by, when about all the pilots had arrived who were in town, Stephen suddenly appeared in the midst, and rushed for Yates as for a long-lost brother.

Oh, I am so glad to see you! Oh my soul, the sight of you is such a comfort to my eyes! Gentlemen, I owe all

c

'\


TO PAY OLD DEBTS.    215

of you money ; among you I owe probably forty thousand dollars. I want to pay it; I intend to pay it — every last cent of it. You all know, without my telling you, what sorrow it has cost me to remain so long under such deep obligations to such patient and gene.r-ous friends; but the sharpest pang I suffer — by far the sharpest — is from the debt I owe to this noble young man here; and I have come to this place this morning especially to make the announcement that I have at last found a method whereby I can pay off all my debts ! And most especially I wanted him to be here when I announced    “beaming    benignantly.”

it. Yes, my faithful friend, — my benefactor, I’ve found the method ! I ’ve found the method to pay off all my debts, and you ’11 get your money!” Hope dawned in Yates’s eye; then Stephen, beaming benignantly, and placing his hand upon Yates’s head, added, “ I am going to pay them off in alphabetical order!”

Then he turned and disappeared. The full significance of Stephen’s “ method ” did not dawn upon the perplexed and

216    AWFULLY ANXIOUS.

musing crowd for some two minutes ; and then Yates murmured with a sigh: —

“ Well, the Y’s stand a gaudy chance. He won’t get any further than the C’s in this world, and I reckon that after a good deal of eternity has wasted away in the next one, I ’11 still be referred to up there as 4 that poor, ragged pilot that came here from St. Louis in the early days! ’ ”

CHAPTER XVIII.

I TAKE A FEW EXTRA LESSONS.

URING- tlie two or two and a half years of my appren

ticeship, I served under many pilots, and had experience of many kinds of steamboatmen and many varieties of steamboats ; for it was not always convenient for Mr. Bixby to have me with him, and in such cases he sent me with somebody else. I am to this day profiting somewhat by that experience ; for in that brief, sharp schooling, I got personally and familiarly acquainted with about all the different types of human nature that are to be found in fiction, biography, or history. The fact is daily borne in upon me, that the average sliore-employment requires as much as forty years to equip a man with this sort of an education. When I say I am still profiting by this thing, I do not mean that it has constituted me a judge of men — no, it has not done that; for judges of men are born, not made. My profit is various in kind and degree ; but the feature of it which I value most is the zest which that early experience has given to my later reading. When I find a well-drawn character in fiction or biography, I generally take a warm personal interest in him, for the reason that I have known him before — met him on the river.

The figure that comes before me oftenest, out of the shadows of that vanished time, is that of Brown, of the steamer “Pennsylvania” — the man referred to in a former chapter, whose memory was so good and tiresome. He was a middle-aged, long, slim, bony, smooth-shaven, horse-faced, ignorant, stingy, malicious, snarling, fault-liunting, mote-magnifying

218    MY NEW TUTOR.

tyrant. I early got the habit of coming on watch with dread at my heart. No matter how good a time I might have been having with the off-watch below, and no matter how high my spirits might be when I started aloft, my soul became lead in my body the moment I approached the pilot-house.

I still remember the first time I ever entered the presence of that man. The boat had backed out from St. Louis and was “ straightening down; ” I ascended to the pilot-house in high feather, and very proud to be semi-officially a member of the executive family of so fast and famous a boat. Brown was at the wheel. I paused in the middle of the room, all fixed to make my bow, but Brown did not look around. I thought he took a furtive glance at me out of the corner of his eye, but as not even this notice was repeated, I judged I had been mistaken. By this time he was picking his way among some dangerous “ breaks ” abreast the wood-yards; therefore it would not be proper to interrupt him ; so I stepped softly to the high bench and took a seat.

There was silence for ten minutes ; then my new boss turned and inspected me deliberately and painstakingly from head to heel for about— as it seemed to me — a quarter of an hour. After which he removed his countenance and I saw it no more for some seconds ; then it came around once more, and this question greeted me : —

“ Are you Horace Bigsby’s cub ? ”

CATECHISED.    219

“Yes, sir.”

After this there was Then:

a pause and another inspection.

“ What’s your name ? ”

‘ARB YOU HORACE BIGSBY’s CUB?”

I told him. He repeated it after me. It was probably the only thing he ever forgot ; for although I was with him many months he never addressed himself to me in any other way than “Here!” and then his command followed.

“ Where was you born ? ”

“In Florida, Missouri.”

A pause.

Then:—

“ Dern sight better staid there! ”

By means of

a dozen or so of pretty direct questions, he pumped my family history out of me.

The leads were going now, in the first crossing. This interrupted the inquest. When the leads had been laid in, he resumed: —

“ How long you been on the river ? ”

220    MY SHOES INSPECTED.

I told him. After a pause : —

“ Where’d you get them shoes ?

I gave him the information.

HOLD UP TOUR FOOT.

“ Hold up your foot! ”

I did so. He stepped back, examined the shoe minutely and contemptuously, scratching his head thoughtfully, tilting his high sugar-loaf hat well forward to facilitate the operation, then ejaculated, “ Well, I’ll be dod derned! ” and returned to his wheel.

What occasion there was to be dod derned about it is a thing which is still as much of a mystery to me now as it was then. It must have been all of fifteen minutes—fifteen minutes of dull, homesick silence — before that long horse-face swung round upon me again—and then, what a change!    It    was    as    red    as    fire, and every muscle in it was

working.    Now    came    this    shriek:

STUPEFIED.    221

“ Here ! —You going to set there all day ? ”

I lit in the middle of the floor, shot there by the electric

suddenness of the as I could get my apologetically: — orders, sir.:

TAKE THAT ICE PITCHER.

surprise. As soon voice I said, “ I have had no “ You’ve had no orders I My, what a fine bird we are! We must have orders! Our father was a gentleman — owned slaves —and we ’ve been to school. Yes, we are a gentleman, too, and got to have orders! Orders, is it? ORDERS is what you want! Dod dern my skin, I’ll learn you to swell yourself up and blow around here about your dod-derned or-G’ way from the wheel! ” (I had approached it without knowing it.)

I moved back a step or two, and stood as in a dream, all my senses stupefied by this frantic assault.

“ What you standing there for ? Take that ice-pitcher down to the texas-tender — come, move along, and don’t you be

all day about it! ”

222    UNDER SURVEILLANCE.

The moment 1 got back to the pilot-house, Brown said u— “ Here ! What was you doing down there all this time ? ” “ I could n’t find the texas-tender; I had to go all the way to the pantry.”

“ Derned likely story! Fill up the stove.”

I proceeded to do so. He watched me like a cat. Presently he shouted: —

“Put down that est numskull I ever got sense enough to All through the of thing went on. Yes, quent watches were during a stretch of have said, I soon got pttll her down ! ” ing on duty with ment I was in the presence, even in the could feel those yellow eyes upon me, and shovel! Dernd-saw—ain’t even load up a stove.” watch this sort and the subse-much like it, months. As I the habit of com-dread. The mo-darkest night, I knew their owner


EOUGH TIMES.    '223

was watching for a pretext to spit out some venom on me. Preliminarily he would say : —

“ Here ! Take the wheel.”

Two minutes later : —

Where in the nation you going to ? Pull her down! pull her down 1 ”

After another moment: —

“ Say ! You going to hold her all day ? Let her go — meet her! meet her! ”

Then he would jump from the bench, snatch the wheel from me, and meet her himself, pouring out wrath upon me all the time.

George Ritchie was the other pilot’s cub. He was having good times now; for his boss, George Ealer, was as kind-hearted as Brown was n’t. Ritchie had steered for Brown the season before; consequently he knew exactly how to entertain himself and plague me, all by the one operation. Whenever I took the wheel for a moment on Ealer’s watch, Ritchie would sit back 011 the bench and play Brown, with continual ejaculations of “ Snatch her! snatch her ! Dernd-est mud-cat I ever saw! ”    “    Here    !    Where    you going now ?

Going to run over that snag?” “Pull her down! Don’t you hear me? Pull her down!” “There she goes! Just as I expected! I told you not to cramp that reef. G’ way from the wheel! ”

So I always had a rough time of it, no matter whose watch it was; and sometimes it seemed to me that Ritchie’s good-natured badgering was pretty nearly as aggravating as Brown’s dead-earnest nagging.

I often wanted to kill Brown, but this would not answer. A cub had to take everything his boss gave, in the way of vigorous comment and criticism; and we all believed that there was a United States law making it a penitentiary offence to strike or threaten a pilot who was on duty. However, I could imagine myself killing Brown; there was no law against that; 'and that was the thing I used always

224    CHERISHING REVENGE.

to do the moment I was abed. Instead of going over my river in my mind as was my duty, I threw business aside for pleasure, and killed Brown. I killed Brown every night for months; not in old, stale, commonplace ways, but in new and picturesque ones, — ways that were sometimes surprising for freshness of design and ghastliness of situation and environment.

Brown was always watching for a pretext to find fault; and if he could find no plausible pretext, he would invent one. He would scold you for shaving a shore, and for not shaving it;

“ I KILLED BROWN EVERY NIGHT.”

“ pulling down ” when not invited, and for not pulling down when not invited; for firing up without orders, and for waiting for orders. In a word, it was his invariable rule to find fault with everything you did; and another invariable rule of his was to throw all his remarks (to you) into the form of an insult.

One day we were approaching New Madrid, bound down and heavily laden. Brown was at one side of the wheel, steering; I was at the other, standing by to “ pull down ” or

BOUND TO SUCCEED.    225

“ shove up.” He cast a furtive glance at me every now and then. I had long ago learned what that meant; viz., he was trying to invent a trap for me. I wondered what shape it was going to take. By and by he stepped back from the wheel and said in his usual snarly way : —

“ Here ! — See if you ’ve got gumption enough to round her to.”

This was simply bound to be a success; nothing could prevent it; for he had never allowed me to round the boat to before ; consequently, no matter how I might do the thing, he could    _.    '

‘hurled me across the house.

find free fault with it. He stood back there with his greedy eye 011 me, and the result was what might have been foreseen:

I lost my head in a quarter of a minute, and did n’t know what I was about;

I started too early to bring the boat around,but detected a green gleam of joy in Brown’s eye, and corrected my mistake; I started around once more while too high up, but corrected myself again in time; I made other false moves, and still managed to save myself; but at last 1 grew so confused and anxious that I tumbled into the very worst blunder of all — I got too far dotcn before beginning to fetch the boat around. Brown’s chance was come.

226    AN UNCOMFORTABLE HOUR.

His face turned red with passion; he made one bound, hurled me across the house with a sweep of his arm, spun the wheel down, and began to pour out a stream of vituperation upon me which lasted till he was out of breath. In the course of this speech he called me all the different kinds of hard names he could think of, and once or twice I thought he was even going to swear — but he had never done that, and he did n’t this time. “ Dod dern ” was the nearest he ventured to the luxury of swearing, for he had been brought up with a wholesome respect for future fire and brimstone.

That was an uncomfortable hour; for there was a big audience on the hurricane deck. When I went to bed that night, I killed Brown in seventeen different ways — all of them new.

CHAPTER XIX.

BROWN AND I EXCHANGE COMPLIMENTS.

TWO trips later, I got into serious trouble. Brown was steering; I was “pulling down.” My younger brother appeared on the hurricane deck, and shouted to Brown to stop at some- landing or other a mile or so below. Brown gave no intimation that he had heard anything. But that was his way: he never condescended to take notice of an under clerk. The wind was blowing; Brown was deaf (although he always pretended he was n’t), and I very much doubted if he had heard the order. If I had had two heads, I would have spoken; but as I had only one, it seemed- judicious to take care of it; so I kept still.

Presently, sure enough, we went sailing by that plantation. Captain Klinefelter appeared on the deck, and said: —

“Let her come around, sir, let her come around. Didn’t Henry tell you to land here ? ”

No, sir! ”    .

-    “ I sent him up to do it.”

“ He did come up; and that’s all the good it done, the dod-derned fool. He never said anything.”

“ Did n’t you hear him ? ” asked the captain of me.

Of course I did n’t want to be mixed up in this business, but there was no way to avoid it; so 1 said : —

“ Yes, sir.”

I knew what Brown’s next remark would be, before he uttered it; it was : —

“Shut your, mouth! you never heard anything of the kind.”

228    THE WORM TURNS.

I closed HIV mouth according to instructions. An hour later, Henry entered the pilot-house, unaware of what had been going on. He was a thoroughly inoffensive boy, and I was sorry to see him come, for I knew Brown would have no pity on him. Brown began, straightway : —

“ Here! why did n’t you tell me we’d got to land at that plantation ? ”

“ I did tell you, Mr. Brown.”

“ It’s a lie! ”

I said: —

“ You lie, yourself. He did tell you.”

Brown glared at me in unaffected surprise; and for as much as a moment he was entirely speechless; then he shouted tome: —

“I’ll attend to your case in a half a minute!” then to Henry, “ And you leave the pilot-house; out with you!”

It was pilot law, and must be obeyed. The boy started out, and even had his foot on the upper step outside the door, when Brown, with a sudden access of fury, picked up a ten-pound lump of coal and sprang after him; but I was between, with a heavy stool, and I hit Brown a good honest blow which stretched him out.

I had committed the crime of crimes, — I had lifted my hand against a pilot on duty ! I supposed I was booked for the penitentiary sure, and could n’t be booked any surer if I went on and squared my long account with this person while I had the chance; consequently I stuck to him and pounded him with my fists a considerable time, — I do not know how long, the pleasure of it probably made it seem longer than it really was; —but in the end he struggled free and jumped up and sprang to the. wheel: a very natural solicitude, for, all this time, here was this steamboat tearing-down the river at the -rate of fifteen miles an hour and nobody at the helm! However, Eagle Bend was two miles wide at this bank-full stage, and correspondingly long and deep; and the boat was steering herself straight down the

“I HIT BROWN A GOOD HONEST BLOW.’’



MY COURAGE REVIVES.    231

middle and taking no chances. Still, that was only luck — a body might have found her charging into the woods.

Perceiving, at a glance, that the “ Pennsylvania ” was in no danger, Brown gathered up the big spy-glass, war-club fashion, and ordered me out of the pilot-house with more than Comanche bluster. But I was not afraid of him now; so, instead of going, I tarried, and criticised his grammar ; 1

reformed his ferocious speeches for him, and put them into good English, calling his attention to the advantage of pure English over the bastard dialect of the Pennsylvanian collieries whence he was extracted. He could have done his part to admiration in a cross-fire of mere vituperation, of course ; but he was not equipped for this species of controversy ; so he presently laid aside his glass and took the

232    RETRIBUTION AHEAD.

wheel, muttering and shaking his head; and 1 retired to the bench. The racket had brought everybody to the hurricane deck, and I trembled when I saw the old captain looking up from the midst of the crowd. I said to myself, “ Now I am done for ! ” — For although, as a rule, he was so fatherly and indulgent toward the boat’s family, and so

patient of minor shortcomings, he could be stern enough when the fault was worth it.

I tried to imagine what he would do to a cub pilot who had been guilty of such a crime as mine, committed on a boat guard-deep with costly freight and alive with passengers. Our watch was nearly ended. I thought I would go and hide somewhere till I got a chance to slide ashore. So I slipped

“SO YOU HAVE BEEN FIGHTING.’’    Qut    Qf    tJie pQot.

house, and down

the steps, and around to the texas door, — and was in the act of gliding within, when the captain confronted me! I dropped my head, and he stood over me in silence a moment or two, then said impressively,—

“ Follow me.”

I dropped into his wake; he led the way to his parlor in the forward end of the texas. We were alone, now. He

THE CAPTAIN'S VERDICT.    283

closed the after door; then moved slowly to the forward one and closed that. He sat down; I stood before him.. He looked at me some little time, then said,―

“ So you have been fighting Mr. Brown ? ”

I answered meekly : ―

“ Yes, sir.”

“ Do you know that that is a very serious matter ? ”

“ Yes, sir.”

“ Are yon aware that this boat was ploughing down the river fully five minutes with uo one at the wheel ? ”

“Yes, sir.”

“ Did you strike him first ? ”

“Yes, sir.”

“ What with ? ”

“ A stool, sir.”

“ Hard ? ”

“ Middling, sir.”

“ Did it knock him down ? ”

“ He ― he fell, sir.”

“ Did you follow it up ? Did you do anything further ? ”

“ Yes, sir.”

“ What did you do ? ”    .

“ Pounded him, sir.”

“ Pounded him ? ”

■ “ Yes, sir.”

“ Did you pound him much ? ― that is, severely ? ”

“ One might call it .that, sir, maybe.”

“ I’m deuced glad of it! Hark ye, never mention that I said that. You have been guilty of a great crime; aud don’t you ever be guilty of it again, on this boat. But―lay for him ashore! G-ive him a good sound thrashing, do you hear ? I ’11 pay the expenses. Now go ― and mind you, not a word of this to anybody. Clear out with you ! ― you’ve been guilty of a great crime, you whelp! ”

I slid out, happy with the sense of a close shave and a mighty deliverance; and I heard him laughing to

234    BROWN'S ULTIMATUM.

himself and slapping his fat thighs after I had closed his door.

When Brown came off watch he went straight to the captain, who was talking with some passengers on the boiler deck, and demanded that I be put ashore in New Orleans — and added: —

“an emancipated slave.”

“ I ’11 never turn a wheel on this boat again while that cub stays.”

The captain said : —

“ But he need n’t come round when you are on watch, Mr. Brown.”

EMANCIPATION.    235

“ I won’t even stay on the same boat with him. One of us has got to go ashore.”

“ Very well,” said the captain, “let it be yourself ; ” and resumed his talk with the passengers.

During the brief remainder of the trip, I knew how an emancipated slave feels ; for I was an emancipated slave myself. While we lay at landings, I listened to George Ealer’s flute ; or to his readings from his two bibles, that is to say, Goldsmith and Shakspeare; or I played chess with him — and would have beaten him sometimes, only he always took back his last move and ran the game out differently.

CHAPTER XX.

A CATASTROPHE.

E lay three days in New Orleans, but the captain did


not succeed in finding another pilot; so he proposed that I should stand a daylight watch, and leave the night watches to George Ealer. But I was afraid; I had never stood a watch of any sort by myself, and I believed I should be sure to get into trouble in the head of some chute, or ground the boat in a near cut through some bar or other. Brown remained in Iris place; but he would not travel with-me. So the captain gave me an order on the captain of the “ A. T. Lacey,” for a passage to St. Louis, and said he would find a new pilot there and my steersman’s berth could then be resumed. The “Lacey” was to leave a-couple of days after the “ Pennsylvania.”

The night before the “ Pennsylvania ” left, Henry and I sat chatting on a freight pile on the levee till midnight. The subject of the chat, mainly, was one which I think we had not exploited before — steamboat disasters. One was then on its way to us, little as we suspected it; the water which was to make the steam which should cause it, was washing past some point fifteen hundred miles up the river while we talked; — but it would arrive at the right time and the right place. We doubted if persons not clothed with authority were of mucli use in cases of disaster and attendant panic; still, they might be of some use; so we decided that if a disaster ever fell within our experience we would at least stick to the boat, and give such minor service as chance might throw in the way. Henry remembered this, afterward, when the disaster came, and acted accordingly.

OUR LAST MEETING.    237

The “Lacey” started up the river two days behind the “Pennsylvania.” We touched at Greenville, Mississippi, a couple of days out, and somebody shouted: —

“ The 4 Pennsylvania ’ is blown up at Ship Island, and a hundred and fifty lives lost! ”

At Napoleon, Arkansas, the same evening, we got an extra, issued by a Memphis paper, which gave some particulars. It mentioned my brother, and said he was not hurt.

HENRY AND I SAT CHATTING.

Further up the river we got a later extra. My brother was again mentioned; but this time as being hurt beyond help. We did not get full details of the catastrophe until we reached Memphis. This is the sorrowful story: —

It was six o’clock 011 a hot summer morning. The “ Pennsylvania ” was creeping along, north of Ship Island, about sixty miles below Memphis on a half-liead of steam, towing a wood-flat which was fast being emptied. George Ealer was in the pilot-house — alone, I think ; the second engineer and a striker had the watch in the engine room; the second mate had the watch 011 deck; George Black, Mr. Wood, and

238    THE EXPLOSION COMES.

my brother, clerks, were asleep, as were also Brown and the head engineer, the carpenter, the chief mate, and one striker; Capt. Klinefelter was in the barber’s chair, and the barber was preparing to shave him. There were a

EMPTYING THE WOOD-FLAT.

nearly all out of the flat now, Ealer rang to “ come ahead ” full steam, and the next moment four of the eight boilers exploded with a thunderous crash, and the whole forward third of the boat was hoisted toward the sky! The main

FLUNG ALOFT.    239

Many people were, flung to considerable distances, and fell in the river; among these were Mr. Wood and my brother, and the carpenter. The carpenter was still stretched upon his mattress when he struck the water seventy-five feet from the boat. Brown, the pilot, and George Black, chief clerk, were never seen or heard of

part of the mass, with the chimneys, dropped upon the boat again, a mountain of riddled and chaotic rubbish — and then, after a little, fire broke out.


THE EXPLOSION.


i

240    EALER’S FLUTE.

after the explosion. The barber’s chair, with Captain Klinefelter in it and unhurt, was left with its back overhanging vacancy — everything forward of it, floor and all, had disappeared ; and the stupefied barber, who was also unhurt,

stood with one toe projecting over space, still stirring his lather unconsciously, and saying not a word.

EALER SAVES HIS FLUTE.

When George Ealer saw the chimneys plunging aloft in front of him, he knew what the matter was; so he muffled his face in the lapels of his coat, and pressed both hands there tightly to keep this protection in its place so that no steam could get to his nose or mouth. He had ample time to attend to these details while he was going up and returning. He presently landed 011 top of the unexploded boilers, forty feet below the former pilothouse, accompanied by his wheel and a rain of other stuff, and enveloped in a cloud of scalding steam. All of the many who breathed that steam, died; none escaped. But Ealer breathed none of it.

ATTEMPTS AT RESCUE.    241

He made his way to the free air as quickly as he could; and when the steam cleared away he' returned and climbed up on the boilers again, and patiently hunted out each and every one of his chessmen and the several joints of his flute.

By this time the fire was beginning to threaten. Shrieks and groans filled the air. A great many persons had been .scalded, a great many crippled; the explosion had driven an iron crowbar through one man’s body—I think they said he was a priest. He did not die at once, and his sufferings were very dreadful. A young French naval cadet, of fifteen, son of a French admiral, was fearfully scalded, but bore his tortures manfully. Both mates were badly scalded, but they stood to their posts, nevertheless. They drew the' wood-boat aft, and they and the captain fought back the frantic herd of frightened immigrants till the wounded could be brought there and placed in safety first.

When Mr. Wood and Henry fell in the water, they struck out for shore, which was only a few hundred yards away; but Henry presently said he believed he was not hurt, (what an unaccountable error!) and therefore would swim back to the boat and help save the wounded. So they parted, and Henry returned.

By this time the fire was making fierce headway, and several persons who were imprisoned under the ruins were begging piteously for help. All efforts to conquer the fire proved fruitless; so the buckets were presently thrown aside and the officers fell-to with axes and tried to cut the prisoners out. A striker was one of the captives; lie said he was not injured, but could not free himself; and when he saw that the fire was likely to drive away the workers, he begged that some one would shoot him, and thus save him from the more dreadful death. The fire did drive the axemen away, and they had to listen, helpless, to this poor fellow’s supplications till the flames ended his miseries.

The fire drove all into the wood-flat that could be accommodated there; it was cut adrift, then, and it and the burn-

242    HELP FROM MEMPHIS.

ing steamer floated down the river toward Ship Island. They moored the flat at the head of the island, and there, unsheltered from the blazing sun, the half-naked occupants had to remain, without food or stimulants, or help for

THE FIRE DROVE THE AXEMEN AWAY.

their hurts, during the rest of the day. A steamer came along, finally, and carried the unfortunates to Memphis, and there the most lavish assistance was at once forthcoming. By this time Henry was insensible. The physicians examined his injuries and saw that they were fatal,

AN IMPROMPTU HOSPITAL.    243

and naturally turned their main attention to patients who could be saved.

Forty of the wounded were placed upon pallets on the floor of a great public hall, and among these was Henry. There the ladies of Memphis came every day, with flowers, fruits, and dainties and delicacies of all kinds, and there they remained and nursed the wounded. All the physicians stood watches there, and all the medical students; and the rest of the town furnished money, or whatever else was wanted. And Memphis knew how to do all these things well; for many a disaster like the “Pennsylvania’s” had happened near her doors, and she was experienced, above all other cities on the river, in the gracious office of the Good Samaritan. v

The sight I saw when I entered that large hall was new and strange to me. Two long rows of prostrate forms — more than forty, in all — and every face and head a shapeless wad of loose raw cotton. It was a grewsome spectacle. I watched there six days and nights, and a very melancholy experience it was. There was one daily incident which was peculiarly depressing: this was the removal of the doomed to a chamber apart. It was done in order that the morale of the other patients might not be injuriously affected by seeing one of their number in the death-agony. The fated one was always carried out with as little stir as possible, and the stretcher was always hidden from sigh't by a wall of assistants ; but no matter: everybody knew what that cluster of bent forms, with its muffled step and its slow movement meant; and all eyes watched it wistfully, and a shudder went abreast of it like a wave.

I saw many poor fellows removed to the “ death-room,” and saw them no more afterward. But I saw our chief mate carried thither more than once. His hurts were frightful, especially his scalds. He was clothed in linseed oil and raw cotton to his waist, and resembled nothing human. He was often out of his mind ; and then his pains would make him

244    OUT OF HIS HEAD.

rave and shout and sometimes shriek. Then, after a period of dumb exhaustion, his disordered imagination would suddenly transform the great apartment into a forecastle, and the hurrying throng of nurses into the crew; and he would come to a sitting posture

THE HOSPITAL WARD.

you petrifactions, snail-bellies, pall-bearers! going to be all day getting that. hatful of freight out ? ” and supplement this explosion with a firmament-obliterating irruption of profanity which nothing could stay or stop till his crater was empty. And now and then while these frenzies pos-

THE LAST OF EARTH.    245

sessed Mm, he would tear off handfuls of the cotton and expose his cooked flesh to view. It was horrible.. It was bad for the others, of course — this noise and these exhibitions; so the doctors tried to give him morphine to quiet him. But, in his mind or out of it, he would not take it. He said his wife had been killed by that treacherous drug, and he would die before he would take it. He suspected that the doctors were concealing it in his ordinary medicines and in his water — so he ceased from putting either to his lips. Once, when he had been without water during two sweltering days, he took the dipper in his hand, and the sight of the limpid fluid, and the misery of his thirst, tempted him almost beyond his strength; but he mastered himself and threw it away, and after that he allowed no more to be brought near him. Three times I saw him carried to the death-room, insensible and supposed to be dying; but each time he revived, cursed his attendants, and demanded to be taken back. He lived to be mate of a steamboat again.

But he was the only one who went to the death-room and returned alive. Dr. Peyton, a principal physician, and rich in all the attributes that go to constitute high and flawless character, did all that educated judgment and trained skill could do for Henry ; but, as the newspapers had said in the beginning, his hurts were past help. On the evening of the sixth day his wandering mind busied itself with matters far away, and his nerveless fingers “ picked at his coverlet.” His hour had struck ; we bore him to the death-room, poor boy.

CHAPTER XXL

A SECTION IN MY BIOGRAPHY.

IN due course I got my license. 1 was a pilot now, full fledged. I dropped into casual employments; no misfortunes resulting, intermittent work gave place to steady and protracted engagements. Time drifted smoothly and prosperously on, and I supposed — and hoped — that I was going to follow the river the rest of my days, and die at the wheel when my mission was ended. But by and by the war came, commerce was suspended, my occupation was gone.

I had to seek another livelihood. So I became a silver miner in Nevada ; next, a newspaper reporter ; next, a gold miner, in California; next, a reporter in San Francisco; next, a special correspondent in the Sandwich Islands; next, a roving correspondent in Europe and the East; next, an instructional torch-bearer on the lecture platform; and, finally, I became a scribbler of books, and an immovable fixture among the other rocks of New England.

In so few words have I disposed of the twenty-one slow-drifting years that have come and gone since I last looked from the windows of a pilot-house.

Let us resume, now.

CHAPTER XXII.

I RETURN TO MY MUTTONS.

FTER twenty-one years’ absence, I felt a very strong


desire to see tlie river again, and the steamboats, and such of the boys as might be left; so 1 resolved to. go out there. I enlisted a poet for company, and a stenographer to “ take him down,” and started westward about the middle of April.

As I proposed to make notes, with a view to printing, I took some thought as to methods of procedure. I reflected that if I were recognized, on the river, I should not be as free to go and come, talk, inquire, and spy around, as I should .be if unknown ; I remembered that it was the custom of steamboatmen in the old times to load up the confiding stranger with the most picturesque and admirable lies, and put the sophisticated friend off Avith dull and ineffectual facts: so I concluded, that, from a business point of view, it would be an advantage to disguise our party Avith fictitious names. The idea Avas certainly good, but it bred infinite bother: for although Smith, Jones, and Johnson are easy names to remember AAdien there is no occasion to remember them, it is next to impossible to recollect them when they are Avanted. How do criminals manage to keep a brand-ncAv alias in mind ? This is a great mystery. I Avas innocent; and yet Avas seldom able to lay my hand on my new name Avhcn if was needed ; and it seemed to me that if I had had a crime on my conscience to further confuse me, I could never have kept the name by me at all.

248    WESTWARD HO.

We left per Pennsylvania Railroad, at 8 a. m. April 18.

Evening. Speaking of dress. Grace and picturesqueness drop gradually out of it as one travels away from New York.”

I find that among my notes. It makes no difference which direction you take, the fact remains the same. Whether you move north, south, east, or west, no matter: you can get up in the morning and guess how far you have come, by noting what degree of grace and picturesqueness is by that time lacking in the costumes of the new passengers; — I do not mean of the women alone, but of both sexes. It may be that carriage is at the' bottom of this thing; and I think it is; for there are plenty of ladies and gentlemen in the provincial cities whose garments arc all made by the best tailors and dressmakers of New York ; yet this has no

THE LAND OF FULL “ GOATEES.”

perceptible effect upon the grand fact: the educated eye never mistakes those people for New-Yorkers. No, there is a godless grace, and snap, and style about a born and bred New-Yorker which mere clothing cannot effect.

April 19. This morning, struck into the region of full goatees — sometimes accompanied by a moustache, but only occasionally.”

It was odd to come upon this thick crop of an obsolete and uncomely fashion ; it was like running suddenly across a forgotten acquaintance whom you had supposed dead for a

THE GOATEE LAND.    249

generation. The goatee extends over a wide extent of country ; and is accompanied by an iron-clad belief in Adam and the biblical history of creation, which has not suffered from the assaults of the scientists.

Afternoon. At the railway stations the loafers carry both hands in their breeches pockets ; it was observable, heretofore, that one hand was sometimes out of doors, — here, never. This is an important fact in geography.”

If the loafers determined the character of a country, it would be still more important, of course.

“ Heretofore, all along, the station-loafer has been often observed to scratch one shin with the other foot; here, these remains of activity are wanting.. This has an ominous look.”

By and by, we entered the tobacco-chewing region. Fifty years ago, the tobacco-chewing region covered the Union. It is greatly restricted now. boots began to appear. Not in strong however. Later —away down the Mis-— they became the rule. They disap-from other sections of the Union with the no doubt they will disappear from the villages, also, when proper pavements come    in.

Next,

force,

sissippi

peared

mud;

river

We reached St. Louis at ten o’clock at night. At the counter of the hotel I tendered a hurriedly-invented fictitious name, with a miserable attempt at careless ease. The clerk

250    UNPROMISING FRAUD.

paused, and inspected me in the compassionate way in which one inspects a respectable person who is found in doubtful circumstances; then he said, —

“It’s all right; I know what sort of a room you want. Used to clerk at the St. James, in New York.”

A n unpromising beginning for a fraudulent career. We started to the supper room, and met two other men whom I had known elsewhere. How odd and unfair it is : wicked impostors go around lecturing under my nom de guerre, and nobody suspects them; but when an honest man attempts an imposture, he is exposed at once.

UNDER AN ALIAS.

One thing seemed plain : we must start down the river the next day, if people

who could not be deceived were going to crop up at this rate : an unpalatable disappointment, for we had hoped to have a week in St. Louis. The Southern was a good hotel, and we could have had a comfortable time there. It is large, and well conducted, and its decorations do not make one cry, as do those of the vast Palmer House, in Chicago. True, the billiard-tables were of the Old Silurian Period, and the cues and balls of the Post-Pliocene; but there was refreshment in this, not discomfort; for there is rest and healing in the contemplation of antiquities.

ROGERS WEEPS.    251

The most notable absence observable in the billiard room, was the absence of the river man. If he was there he had taken in his sign, he was in disguise. I saw there none of the swell airs and graces, and ostentatious displays of money, and pompous squanderings of it, which used to distinguish the steamboat crowd from the dry-land crowd in the bygone days, in the thronged billiard-rooms of St. Louis. In those times, the principal saloons were always populous with river men; given fifty players present, thirty or thirty-five were likely to be from the river. But I suspected that the ranks were thin now, and the steamboatmen no longer an aristocracy.

Why, in my time they used to call the “ bar-keep ” Bill, or Joe, or Tom, and slap him on the shoulder; I watched for that. But none of these people did it. Manifestly a glory that once was had dissolved and vanished away in these twenty-one years.

When I went up to my room,

I found there the young man <<D0 Y0Tj drink this slush?” called Rogers, crying. Rogers

was not his name ; neither was Jones, Brown, Dexter, Ferguson, Bascom, nor Thompson; but he answered to either of these that a body found handy in an emergency; or to any other name, in fact, if he perceived that you meant him. He said: —

“ What is a person to do here when he wants a drink of water ? — drink this slush ? ”

252    WATER GRUEL.

“ Can’t you drink it ? ”

“ I could if I had some other water to wash it with.”

Here was a thing which had not changed; a score, of years had not affected this water’s mulatto complexion in the least; a score of centuries would succeed no better, perhaps. It coines out of the turbulent, bank-caving Missouri, and every tumblerful of it holds nearly an acre of land in solution. I got this fact from the bishop of the diocese. If you will let your glass stand half an hour, you can separate the land from the water as - easy as Genesis ; and then you will find them both good : the one good to eat, the other good to drink. The land is very nourishing, the water is thoroughly wholesome. The one appeases hunger; the other, thirst. But the natives do not take them separately, but together, as nature mixed them. When they find an inch of mud in the bottom of a glass, they stir it up, and then take the .draught as they would gruel. It is difficult for a stranger to get used to this batter, but once used to it he will prefer it to water. This is really the case. It is good for steamboat-ing, and good to drink ; but it is worthless for all other purposes, except baptizing.

Next morning, we drove around town in the rain. The city seemed but little changed. It was greatly changed, but it did not seem so ; because in St. Louis, as in London and Pittsburgh, you can’t persuade a new thing to look new; the coal smoke turns it into an antiquity the moment you take your hand off it. The place had just about doubled its size, since I was a resident of it, and was now become a city of 400,000.inhabitants; still, in the solid business parts, it looked about as it had looked formerly. Yet I am sure there is not as much smoke in St. Louis now as there used to be. The smoke used to bank itself in a dense billowy black canopy over the town, and hide the sky from view. This shelter is very much thinner now; still, there is a sufficiency of smoke there, I think. I heard no complaint.

However, on the outskirts changes were apparent enough;

A NEW CITY.    253

notably in dwelling-house arcliitectnre. The fine new homes are noble and beautiful and modern. They stand by themselves, too, with green lawns around them; whereas the dwellings of a former day are packed together in blocks, and are all of one pattern, with windows all alike, set in an arched frame-work of twisted stone; a sort of house which was handsome enough when it was rarer.

There was another change — the Forest Park. This was new to me. It is beautiful and very extensive, and has the excellent merit of having been made mainly by nature. There are other parks, and fine ones, notably Tower Grove and the Botanical Gardens; for St. Louis interested herself in such improvements at an earlier day than did the most of our cities.

The first time I ever saw St. Louis, I could have bought it for six million dollars, and it was the mistake of my life that I did not do it., It was bitter now to look abroad over this domed and steepled metropolis, this solid expanse of bricks and mortar stretching away on every hand into dim, measure-defying distances, and remember that I had allowed that opportunity to go by. "Why I should have allowed it to go by seems, of course, foolish and inexplicable to-day, at a first glance; yet there were reasons at the time to justify this course.

A Scotchman, Hon. Charles Augustus Murray, writing some forty-five or fifty years ago, said:    “The streets are

narrow, ill paved and ill lighted.” Those streets are narrow still, of course ; many of them are ill paved yet; but the reproach of ill lighting cannot be repeated, now. The “ Catholic New Church ” was the only notable building then, and Mr. Murray was confidently called upon to admire it, with its “ species of Grecian portico, surmounted by a kind of steeple, much too diminutive in its proportions, and surmounted by sundry ornaments’’which the unimaginative Scotchman found himself “ quite unable to describe ; ” and therefore was grateful when a German tourist helped him out with the exclaina-

254    STEAMBOATS ASLEEP.

tion : “ By —, they look exactly like bed-posts! ” St. Louis is well equipped with stately and noble public buildings now, and the little church, which the people used to be so proud of, lost its importance a long time ago. Still, this would not surprise Mr. Murray, if he could come back; for he prophesied the coming greatness of St. Louis with strong confidence.

The further we drove in our inspection-tour, the more sensibly I realized how the city had grown since I had seen it last; changes in detail became steadily more apparent and frequent than at first, too : changes uniformly evidencing progress, energy, prosperity.

But the change of changes was on the “ levee.” This time,

a departure from the rule. Half a dozen sound-asleep steamboats where I used to see a solid mile of wide-awake ones ! This was melancholy, this was woful. The absence of the pervading and jocund steamboatman from the billiard-saloon was explained. He was absent because he is no more. His occupation is gone, his power has passed away, he is absorbed

DESOLATION.    255

into the common herd, he grinds at the mill, a shorn Samson and inconspicuous. Half a dozen lifeless steamboats, a mile of empty wharves, a negro fatigued with whiskey stretched asleep, in a wide and soundless vacancy, where the serried hosts of commerce used to contend !1 Here was desolation, indeed.

“ The old, old sea, as one in tears,

Comes murmuring, with foamy lips,

And knocking at the vacant piers,

Calls for his long-lost multitude of ships.”

The towboat and the railroad had done their work, and

dead past resurrection. spoliation. Remains of former

1 Capt. Marryat, writing forty-five j'ears ago, says : “ St. Louis has 20,000 inhabitants. The river abreast of the town is crowded with steamboats, lying in two or three tiers.”

256    THE RIVER ERONT.

steamboatmen told me, with wan satisfaction, that the bridge does n’t pay. Still, it can be no sufficient compensation to a corpse, to know that the dynamite that laid him out was not of as good quality as it had been supposed to be.

The pavements along the river front were bad; the sidewalks were rather out of repair; there was a rich abundance of mud. All this was familiar and satisfying; but the ancient armies of drays, and struggling throngs of men, and mountains of freight, were gone; and Sabbath reigned in their stead. The immemorial mile of cheap foul doggeries remained, but business was dull with them ; the multitudes of poison-swilling Irishmen had departed, and in their places were a few scattering handfuls of ragged negroes, some drinking, some drunk, some nodding, others asleep. St. Louis is a great and prosperous and advancing city; but the river-edge of it seems dead past resurrection.

Mississippi steamboating was born about 1812; at the end of thirty years, it had grown to mighty proportions; and in less than thirty more, it was dead! A strangely short life for so majestic a creature. Of course it is not absolutely dead; neither is a crippled octogenarian who could once jump twenty-two feet on level ground; but as contrasted with what it was in its prime vigor, Mississippi steamboating may be called dead.

It killed the old-fashioned keel-boating, by reducing the freight-trip to New Orleans to less than a week. The railroads have killed the steamboat passenger traffic by doing in two or three days what the steamboats consumed a week in doing; and the towing-fleets have killed the through-freight traffic by dragging six or seven steamer-loads of stuff down the river at a time, at an expense so trivial that ‘ steamboat competition was out of the question.

Freight and passenger way-traffic remains to the steamers. -This is in the hands — along the two thousand miles of river between St. Paul and New Orleans — of two or three close corporations well fortified with capital; and by able

THE WOOD-YARD MAN.    257

and thoroughly business-like management and system, make a sufficiency of money out of what is left of the once prodigious steamboating industry. I suppose that St. Louis and New Orleans have not suffered materially by the change, but alas for the wood-yard

man:

He used to fringe the river all the way; his close-ranked merchandise stretched from the one city to the other, along the banks, and he sold uncountable cords of it every year for cash on the nail; but all the scattering boats that are left burn coal now, '"    and the seldomest

the wood-yard man.    spectacle on the

Mississippi to-day is a wood-pile. Where now is the once wood-yard man ?

17

CHAPTER XXIII.

TRAVELLING INCOGNITO.

Y idea was, to tarry a while in every town between St.


Louis and New Orleans. To do this, it would be necessary to go from place to place by the short packet lines. It was an easy plan to make, and would have been an easy one to follow, twenty years ago — but not now. There are wide intervals between boats, these days.

I wanted to begin with the interesting old French settlements of St. Genevieve and Kaskaskia, sixty miles below St. Louis. There was only one boat advertised for that section — a Grand Tower packet. Still, one boat was enough; so we went down to look at her. She was a venerable rack-heap, and a fraud to boot; for she was playing herself for personal property, whereas the good honest dirt was so thickly caked all over her that she was righteously taxable as real estate. There are places in New England where her hurricane deck would be worth a hundred and fifty dollars an acre. The soil on her forecastle was quite good — the new crop of wheat was already springing from the cracks in protected places. The companionway was of a dry sandy character, and would have been well suited for grapes, with a southern exposure and a little subsoiling. The soil of the boiler deck was thin and rocky, but good enough for grazing purposes. A colored boy was on watch here—nobody else visible. We gathered from him that this calm craft would' go, as advertised, “ if she got her trip;” if she didn’t get it, she would wait for it.

WE TAKE THE “GOLD DUST/    259

“Has she got any of her trip ? ”•

“ Bless you, no, boss. She ain’t unloadened, yit. She only come in dis mawnin’.”

He was uncertain as to when she might get her trip, but thought it might be to-morrow or maybe next day. This would not answer at all ; so we had to give up the novelty of sailing down the river on a farm.

WAITING FOR A TRIP.

We had one more arrow in our quiver : a Vicksburg packet, the “ Gold Dust,” was to leave at 5 p.m. We took passage in her for Memphis, and gave up the idea of stopping off hero and there, as being impracticable.

She was neat, clean, and comfortable.

We camped on the boiler deck, and bought some cheap literature to kill time with. The vender was a venerable Irishman with a benevolent face and a tongue that worked easily in the socket, and from him we learned that he had lived in St. Louis thirty-four years and had never been across the river during that period. Then he wandered into a very flowing lecture, filled with classic names and allusions,*which was quite wonderful for fluency until the fact became rather apparent that this was not the first time, nor perhaps the

260    LAGER VS. WHISKEY.

fiftieth, that the speech had been delivered. He was a good deal of a character, and much better company than the sappy

literature he was selling. A random remark, connecting Irishmen and ” beer, brought this nugget of information out of him: —

“ They don’t drink it, sir. They can’t drink it, sir. Give an Irishman lager for a month, and he ’s a dead man. An Irishman is lined with copper, and the beer corrodes it. But whiskey polishes the copper and is the saving of him, sir.”

At eight o’clock, promptly, we backed out and—crossed the river. As we crept toward the shore, in the thick darkness, a blinding glory of white electric light burst suddenly the electric light.    from our fore-

castle, and lit up

the water and the warehouses as with a noon-day glare. Another big change, this, — no more flickering, smoky, pitch-dripping, ineffectual torch-baskets, now: their day is

MODERN IMPROVEMENTS.    261

past. Next, instead of calling out a score of hands to man the stage, a couple of men and a hatful of steam lowered it from the derrick where it was suspended, launched it, deposited it in just the right spot, and the whole thing was over and done-witli before a mate in the olden time could have got his profanity-mill adjusted to begin the preparatory services. Why this new and simple method of handling the stages was not thought of when the first steamboat was built, is a mystery which helps one to realize what a dull-witted slug the average human being is.

We finally got away at two in the morning, and when I turned out at six, we were round


or three decayed dwelling-houses were near by, in the shelter of the


a landing.    leafy    hills    ; but there

were no evidences of human or other animal life to be seen. I wondered if I had forgotten the river; for I had no recollection whatever of this place; the shape of the river, too, was unfamiliar;

262    MODERN TRAVELLERS.

there was nothing in sight, anywhere, that I could remember ever having seen before. I was surprised, disappointed, and annoyed.

We put ashore a well-dressed lady and gentleman, and two well-dressed, lady-like young girls, together with sundry Russia-leather bags. A strange place for such folk! No carriage was waiting. The party moved off as if they had not expected any, and struck down a winding country road afoot.

But the mystery was explained when we got under way

again; for these people were evidently bound for a large town which lay shut in behind a tow-head    (i. e., new

island) a couple of miles below this landing.    I could n’t remember    that town;

1 could n’t place it, could n’t call its name. So 1 lost    part of my

temper.    I suspected

that it might be St. Genevieve — and so it proved to be. Observe what this eccentric river had been about: it had built up this huge useless tow-head directly in front of this town, cut a close inspection.    off    its river communi

cations, fenced it away, completely, and made a “ country ” town of it. It is a fine old place, too, and deserved a better fate. It was settled by the French, and is a relic of a time when one

IS IT ST. GENEVIEVE 1    263

could travel from the mouths of the Mississippi to Quebec and be on French territory and under French rule all the way.

Presently I ascended to the hurricane deck and cast a longing glance toward the pilot-house.

CHAPTER XXIV.

MY INCOGNITO IS EXPLODED.

PTER a close study of the face of the pilot on watch, I


was satisfied that I had never seen him before ; so I went up there. The pilot inspected me ; I re-inspected the pilot. These customary preliminaries over, I sat down on the high bench, and he faced about and went on with his work. Every detail of the pilot-house was familiar to me, with one exception, — a large-mouthed tube under the breast-board. I puzzled over that thing a considerable time ; then, gave up and asked what it was for.

“ To hear the engine-bells through.”

It was another good'contrivance which ought to have been invented half a century sooner. So I was thinking, when the pilot asked, —

“ Do you know what this rope is for ? ”

I managed to get around this question, without committing myself.

“ Is this the first time you were ever in a pilot-house ? ”

I crept under that one.

“ Where are you from ? ”

“ New England.”

“ First time you have ever been West ? ”

I climbed over this one.

“ If you take an interest in such things, I can tell you what all these things are for.”

I said I should like it.

“ This,” putting his hand on a backing-bell rope, “ is to sound the fire-alarm; this,” putting his hand on a go-a-head

LEARNING THE ROPES.    265

bell, “ is to call the texas-tender; this one,” indicating the whistle-lever, “ is to call the captain ” — and so he went on, touching one object after another, and reeling off his tranquil spool of lies.

I had never felt so like a passenger before. I thanked him, with emotion, for each new fact, and wrote it down in

my note-book. The pilot warmed to his opportunity, and proceeded to load me up in the good old-fashioned way. At times I was afraid he was going to rupture his invention; but it always stood the strain, and he pulled through all right. He drifted, by easy stages, into revealments of the river’s marvellous eccentricities of one sort and another, and

266    THE ALLIGATOR BUSINESS.

backed them up with some pretty gigantic illustrations. For instance, —

“ Do you see that little bowlder sticking out of the water yonder? well, when I first came on the river, that was a solid ridge of rock, over sixty feet high and two miles long. All washed away but that.” [This with a sigh.]

I had a mighty impulse to destroy him, but it seemed to me that killing, in any ordinary way, would be too good for him.

Once, when an odd-looking craft, with a vast coal-scuttle slanting aloft on the end of a beam, was steaming by in the

distance, he indifferently drew attention to it, as one might to an object grown wearisome through familiarity, and observed that it was an “ alligator boat.”

“An alligator boat ? What’s it

for ? ”

“an alligator boat.”


“To dredge out alligators with.”


“ Are they so thick as to be troublesome ? ”

“ Well, not now, because the government keeps them down. But they used to be. Not everywhere; but in favorite places, here and there, where the river is wide and shoal — like Plum Point, and Stack Island, and so on — places they call alligator beds.”

“ Did they actually impede navigation ? ”

“ Years ago, yes, in very low water; there was hardly a trip, then, that we did n’t get aground on alligators.”

ALLIGATOR PILOTS.    267

It seemed to me that I should certainly have to get out my tomahawk. However, I restrained myself and said, —

“ It must have been dreadful.”

“ Yes, it was one of the main difficulties about piloting. It was so hard to tell anything about the water; the damned things shift around so — never lie still five minutes at a time. You can tell a wind-reef, straight off, by the look of it; you can tell a break; you can tell a sand-reef — that’s all easy ; but an alligator reef does n’t show up, worth anything. Nine times in ten you can’t tell where the water is; and when you

ALLIGATOR PILOTS.

do see where it is, like as not it ain’t there when you get there, the devils have swapped around so, meantime. Of course there were some few pilots that could judge of alligator water nearly as well as they could of any other kind, but they had to have natural talent for it; it was n’t a thing a body could learn, you had to be born with it. Let me see: there was Bon Thornburg, and Beck Jolly, and Squire Bell, and Horace Bixby, and Major Downing, and John Stevenson, and Billv Gordon, and Jim Brady, and George Ealer, and Billy Youngblood — all A1 alligator pilots. They could tell alligator water as far as another Christian could tell whiskey. Read it ?— Ah, could n't they, though ! I only wish I had as many dollars as they could read alligator water a mile and a

268    CONVINCING ARGUMENTS.

half off. Yes, and it paid them to do it, too. A good alligator pilot could always get fifteen hundred dollars a month. Nights, other people had to lay up for alligators, but those fellows never laid up for alligators; they never laid up for anything but fog. They could smell the best alligator water — so it was said ; I don’t know whether it was so or not, and I think a body’s got his hands full enough if he sticks to just what he knows himself, without going around backing up other people’s say-so’s, though there’s a plenty that ain’t backward about doing it, as long as they can roust out something wonderful to tell. Which is not the style of Robert Styles, by as much as three fathom —maybe quarterns.”

[My! Was this Rob Styles/—This moustached and stately figure ? — A slim enough cub, in my time. How he has improved in comeliness in five and twenty years — and in the noble art of inflating his facts.] After these musings, I said aloud, —

“ I should think that dredging out the alligators would n’t have done much good, because they could com5 back again right away.”

“If you had had as much experience of alligators as I have, you would n’t talk like that. You dredge an alligator once and lie’s convinced. It’s the last you hear of him; He would n’t come back for pie. If there’s one thing that an alligator is more down on than another, it’s being-dredged. Besides, they were not simply shoved out of the way; the most of the scoopful were scooped aboard; they emptied them into the hold ; and when they had got a trip, they took them to Orleans to the Government works.”

“ What for?”

“ Why, to make soldier-shoes out of their hides. All the Government shoes are made of alligator hide. It makes the best shoes in the world. They last five years, and they won’t absorb water. The alligator fishery is a Government monopoly. All the alligators are Government property —

THE SACRED BIRD.    269

just like the live-oaks. You cut down a live-oak, and Government fines you fifty dollars ; you kill an alligator, and up you go for misprision of treason — lucky duck if they don’t hang you, too. And they will, if you ’re a Democrat. The buzzard is the sacred bird of the South, and you can’t touch him; the alligator is the sacred bird of the Government, and you ’ve got to let him alone.”

“ Do you ever get aground on the alligators now ? ”

“Oh, no! it has n’t happened for years.”

“ Well, then, why do they still keep the alligator boats in service ? ”

“Just for police duty—nothing more. They merely go up and down now and then. The present generation of alligators know them as easy as a burglar knows a roundsman ; when they see one coming, they break camp and go for the woods.”

After rounding-out and finishing-up and polishing-off the alligator business, he dropped easily and comfortably into the historical vein, and told of some tremendous feats

of half a dozen old-time steamboats of his acquaintance, dwelling at special length upon a certain extraordinary performance of his chief favorite among this distinguished fleet — and then adding: —

“ That boat was the ‘ Cyclone,’ — last trip she ever made — she sunk, that very trip — captain was Tom Ballou, the most immortal liar that ever I struck. He could n’t ever seem to

270    A CHAMPION LIAR.

tell the truth, in any kind of weather. Why, he would make you fairly shudder. He was the most scandalous liar! I left him, finally; I could n’t stand it. The proverb says, ‘ like master, like man; ’ and if you stay with that kind of a man, you’ll come under suspicion by and by, just as sure as you live. He paid first-class wages; but said I, What’s

wages when your reputation’s in danger ? So I let the wages go, and froze to my reputation. And I’ve never regretted it. Reputation’s worth everything, ain’t it ? That’s the way I look at it. He had more selfish organs than any seven men in the world — all packed in the stern-sheets of his skull, of course, where they belonged. They weighed down the back of his head so that it made his nose tilt up in the air. People thought it was vanity, but it wasn’t, it

A RATTLER TO GO.    271

was malice. If yon only.saw his foot, you’d take him to be nineteen feet high, but he was n’t; it was because his foot was out of drawing. He was intended to be nineteen feet high, no doubt, if his foot was made first, but he didn’t get there; he was only five feet ten. That’s what he was, and that’s what he is. You take the lies out of him, and he’ll shrink to the size of your hat; you take the malice out of him, and he ’11 disappear. That ‘ Cyclone ’ was a rattler to go, and the sweetest thing to steer that ever walked the waters. Set her amidships, in a big river, and just let her go; it was all you had to do. She would hold herself on a star all night, if you let her alone. You couldn’t ever feel her rudder. It was n’t any more labor to steer her than it is to count the Republican vote in a South Carolina election. One morning, just at daybreak, the last trip she ever made, they took her rudder aboard to mend it; I did n’t know anything about it; I backed her out from the wood-yard and went a-weaving down the river all serene. When I had gone about twenty-three miles, and made four horribly crooked crossings — ”

“ Without any rudder ? ”

“ Yes — old Capt. Tom appeared on the roof and began to find fault with me for running such a dark night — ”

“ Such a dark night? — Why, you said — ”

“Never mind what I said, — ’twas as dark as Egypt now, though pretty soon the moon began to rise, and — ”

“You mean the sun — because you started out just at break of— look here ! Was this before you quitted the captain on account of his lying, or — ”

“It was before — oh, along time before. And as I was saying, he — ”

“ But was this the trip she sunk, or was — ”

“ Oh, no! — months afterward. And so the old man, he—” “ Then she made two last trips, because you said — ”

He stepped back from the wheel, swabbing away his perspiration, and said —

272    SCOOPED!

“Here!” (calling me by name), “you take her and lie a while — you’re handier at it than 1 am. Trying to play yourself for a stranger and an innocent! — why, I knew you before you had spoken seven words; and I made up my mind to find out what was your little game. It was to draw

me out. Well, I let you, did n’t I ?

Now take the wheel and finish the watch; and next time play fair, and you won’t have to work your passage.”

Thus ended the fictitious-name business. And not six hours out from St. Louis! but I had gained a privilege, anyway, for I had been itching to get my hands on the wheel, from the beginning. I seemed to have forgotten the river,-but I had n’t forgotten how to steer a steamboat, nor how to enjoy it, either.

CHAPTER XXV.

FROM CAIRO TO HICKMAN.

THE scenery, from St. Louis to Cairo—two hundred miles —is varied and beautiful. The hills were clothed in the fresh foliage of spring now, and were a gracious and

worthy setting for the broad river flowing between. Our trip began auspiciously, with a perfect day, as to breeze and sun-<} shine, and our boat threw grand tower.    the miles out behind her

with satisfactory despatch. We found a railway intruding at Chester, Illinois; Chester has also a penitentiary now, and is otherwise marching 18

274    GRAND TOWER.,

on. At Grand Tower, too, there was a railway ; and another . at Cape Girardeau. The former town gets its name from a huge, squat pillar of rock, which stands up out of the water on the Missouri side of the river—a piece of nature’s fanciful handiwork — and is one of the most picturesque features of the scenery of that region. For nearer or remoter neighbors, the'Tower has the Devil’s Bake Oven — so called, perhaps, because it does not powerfully resemble anybody else’s bake oven; and the Devil’s Tea Table — this latter a great smooth-surfaced mass of rock, with diminishing wineglass stem, perched some fifty or sixty feet above the river, beside a beflowered and garlanded precipice, and sufficiently like a tea-table to answer for anybody, Devil or Christian. Away down the river we have the Devil’s Elbow and the Devil’s Race-course, and lots of other property of his which I cannot now call to mind.

The Town of Grand Tower was evidently a busier place than it had been in old times, but it seemed to need some repairs here and there, and a new coat of whitewash all over. Still, it was pleasant to me to see the old coat once more. “ Uncle ” Mumford, our second officer, said the place had been suffering from high water and consequently was not looking its best now. But he said it was not strange that it did n’t waste whitewash on itself, for more lime was made there, and of a better quality, than anywhere in the West; and added, —u On a dairy farm you never can get any milk for your coffee, nor any sugar for it on a sugar plantation ; and it is against sense to go to a lime town to hunt for whitewash.” In my own experience I knew the first two items to be true; and also that people who sell candy don’t care for candy; therefore there was plausibility in Uncle Mumford’s final observation that “ people who make lime run more to religion than whitewash.” Uncle Mumford said, further, that Grand Tower was a great coaling centre and a prospering place.

Cape Girardeau is situated on a hillside, and makes a

RELIGIOUS PARTIALITIES.    275

handsome appearance. There is a great Jesuit school for boys at the foot of the town by the river. Uncle Mumford said it had as high a reputation for thoroughness as any similar institution in Missouri. There was another college higher up on an airy summit,— a bright new edifice, picturesquely and peculiarly towered and pinnacled — a sort of gigantic casters, with the cruets all complete. Uncle Mumford said that Cape Girardeau was the Athens of Missouri, and contained several colleges besides those already mentioned ; and all of them on a religious basis of one kind or another. He directed my attention to what he called the “strong and pervasive religious look of the town,” but I could not see that it looked more religious than the other hill towns with the same slope and built of the same kind of bricks. Partialities often make people see more than really exists.

A DAIRY FARM.

Uncle Mumford has been thirty years a mate on the river. He is a man of practical sense and a level head; has observed; has had much experience of one sort and another; has opinions; has, also, just a perceptible dash of poetry in his composition, an easy gift of speech, a thick growl in his voice, and an oath or two where he can get at them when the exigencies of his office require a spiritual lift. He is a mate of the blessed old-time kind; and goes gravely damn-

276    UNIFORMS AND BRASS BUTTONS.

ing around, when there is work to the fore, in a way to mellow the ex-steamboatman’s heart with sweet soft longings for the vanished • days that shall come no more. “ Grit up,

there,--you    ! Going to be all day ? Why d’n’t you say

you was petrified in your hind legs, before you shipped! ”

He is a steady man with his crew; kind and just, but firm; so they like him, and stay with him. He is still in the slouchy garb of the old generation of mates ; but next trip the Anchor Line will have him in uniform—a natty blue naval uniform, with brass buttons, along with all the officers of the line — and then he will be a totally different style of scenery from what he is now.

Uniforms on the Mississippi! It beats all the other changes put together, for surprise. Still, there is another surprise — that it was not made fifty years ago. It is so manifestly sensible, that it might have been thought of earlier, one would suppose. During fifty years, out there, the innocent passenger in need of help and information, has been mistaking the mate for the cook, and the captain for the barber — and being roughly entertained for it, too. But his troubles are ended now. And the greatly improved aspect of the boat’s staff is another advantage achieved by the dress-reform period.

Steered down the bend below Cape Girardeau. They used to call it “ Steersman’s Bend; ” plain sailing and plenty of water in it, always; about the only place in the Upper River that a new cub was allowed to take a boat through, in low water.

Thebes, at the head of the Grand Chain, and Commerce at the foot of it, were towns easily rememberable, as they had not undergone conspicuous alteration. Nor the Chain, either — in the nature of things; for it is a chain of sunken rocks admirably arranged to capture and kill steamboats on bad nights. A good many steamboat corpses lie buried there, out of sight; among the rest my first friend the “ Paul Jones ; ” she knocked her bottom out, and went down like a pot, so

A GRAY MARE AND A PREACHER.    277

of course, t o “ But there people who a matter, and you will always that they are who have never travelled with a gray mare and a preacher. I went down the river once in such com-pany. We grounded at Bloody Island ; we grounded at Hanging Dog; we grounded just below this same Commerce; we jolted Beaver Dam Rock; we hit one of the worst breaks in the ‘ Graveyard ’ behind Goose Island; we had a roustabout killed in a fight; we burnt a boiler ; broke a shaft; collapsed a flue ; and went into Cairo with nine feet of water in the hold —

the historian told me — Uncle Mumford. He said she had a gray mare aboard, and a preacher. To me, this sufficiently accounted for


the disaster; as it did, Mumford, who added,— are many ignorant would scoff at such call it superstition. But notice people

“THREW the preacher overboard.

278    A CALAMITOUS COMBINATION.

may have been more, may have been less. I remcmbet it as if it were yesterday. The men lost their heads with terror. They painted the mare blue, in sight of town, and threw the preacher overboard, or we should not have arrived at all. The preacher was fished out and saved.' He acknowledged, himself, that he had been to blame. I remember it all* as if it. were yesterday.”    ;

That this combination — of preacher and gray mare — should breed calamity, seems strange, and at first glance unbelievable ; but the fact is fortified by so much unassailable proof that to doubt is to dishonor reason. I myself remember a case where a captain was warned by numerous friends against taking a gray mare and a preacher with him, but persisted in his purpose in spite of all that could be said ; and the same day, — it may have been the next, and some say it was, though I think it was the same day, —he got drunk and fell down the hatchway and was borne to his home a corpse. This is literally true.

No vestige of Hat Island is left now; every shred of it is washed away. I do not even remember what part of . the river it used to be in, except that it was between St. Louis and Cairo somewhere. It was a bad region — all around and about Hat Island, in early days. A farmer who lived on the Illinois shore there, said that twenty-nine steamboats had left their bones strung along within sight from his house. Between St. Louis and Cairo the steamboat wrecks average one to the mile ; — two hundred wrecks, altogether.

I could recognize big changes from Commerce down. Beaver Dam Rock was out in the middle of the river now, and throwing a prodigious “ breakit used to be close to the shore, and boats went down outside of it. A big island that used to be away out in mid-river, has retired to the Missouri shore, and boats do not go near it any more. The island called Jacket Pattern is whittled down to a wedge now, and is booked for early destruction. Goose Island is all gone but a little dab the size of a steamboat. The perilous

GONE TO ILLINOIS.    279

“ Graveyard,” among whose numberless wrecks we used to pick our way so slowly and gingerly, is far away from the channel now, and a terror to nobody. One of the islands formerly called the Two Sisters is gone entirely; the other, which used to lie close to the Illinois shore, is now on the Missouri side, a mile away ; it is joined solidly to the shore, and it takes a sharp eye to see where the seam is — but it is Illinois ground yet, and the people who live on it have to ferry themselves over and work the Illinois roads and pay Illinois taxes : singular state of things !

ILLINOIS GROUND.”

Near the mouth of the river several islands were missing — washed away. Cairo was still there — easily visible across the long, flat point upon whose further verge it stands ; but we had to steam a long way around to get to it. Night fell as we were going out of the “ Upper River ” and meeting the floods of the Ohio. We dashed along without anxiety ; for the hidden rock which used to lie right in the way has moved up stream a long distance out of the channel; or rather, about one county has gone into the river from the Missouri point, and the Cairo point

280    AN EQUITABLE RIVER.

lias 44 made down. ” and added to its long tongue of territory correspondingly. The Mississippi is a just and equitable river ; it never tumbles one man’s farm overboard without building a new farm just like it for that man’s neighbor. This keeps down hard feelings.

Going into Cairo, we came near killing a steamboat which paid no attention to our whistle and then tried to cross our bows. By doing some strong backing, vre saved him; which was a great loss, for he would have made good literature.

Cairo is a brisk town now; and is substantially built, and has a city look about it which is in noticeable contrast to its former estate, as per Mr. Dickens’s portrait of it. However, it was already building with bricks when I had seen it last — which was when Colonel (now General) Grant was drilling his first command there. Uncle Mumford says the libraries and Sunday-schools have done a good work in Cairo, as wrell as the brick masons. Cairo has a heavy railroad and river trade, and her situation at the junction of the two great rivers is so advantageous that she cannot well help prospering.

When I turned out, in the morning, we had passed Columbus, Kentucky, and were approaching Hickman, a pretty town, perched on a handsome hill. Hickman is in a rich tobacco region, and formerly enjoyed a great and lucrative trade in that staple, collecting it there in her warehouses from a large area of country and shipping it by boat; but Uncle Mumford says she built a railway to facilitate this commerce a little more, and he thinks it facilitated it the wrong way — took the bulk of the trade out of her hands by 44 collaring it along "the line without gathering it at her ,doors.”

CHAPTER XXVI.

UNDER FIRE.

TALK began to run upon the war now, for we were getting down into the upper edge of the former battle-

stretch by this time.    _________

Columbus was just behind us, so there was a good deal said about the famous battle of Belmont.

b ’    HIS MAIDEN BATTLE.

Several of the ( boat’s officers had seen active service in the Mississippi war-fleet. I gathered that they found themselves sadly out of their element in that kind of business at first, but afterward got accustomed to it, reconciled to it, and more or less at home in it. One of our pilots had his first war experience    \

in the Belmont fight,

as a pilot on a boat

in the Confederate service. I had often had a curiosity to


282    WAR HISTORY.

know how a green hand might feel, in his maiden battle, perched all solitary and alone on high in a pilot house, a target for Tom, Dick and Harry, and nobody at his elbow to shame him from showing the white feather when matters grew hot and perilous around him; so, to me his story was valuable — it filled a gap for me which all histories had left till that time empty.

MIGHTY WARM TIMES.

THE PILOT’S FIRST BATTLE.

He said: —

It was the 7th of November. The fight began at seven in the morning. I was on the “ R. H. W. Hill.” Took over a load of troops from Columbus. Came back, and took over a battery of artillery. My partner said he was going to see the fight; wanted me to go along. I said, no, I was n’t anxious, I would look at it from the pilot-house. He said I was a coward, and left.

That fight was an awful sight. General Cheatham made his men strip their coats off and throw them in a pile, and said, “ Now follow me to hell or victory ! ” I heard him say that from the pilot-house; and then he galloped in, at the head of his troops. Old

HIS FIRST BATTLE.    283

General Pillow, with his white hair, mounted on a . white horse, sailed in, too, leading his troops as lively as a boy. By and by the Federals chased the rebels back, and here they came! tearing along, everybody for himself.and Devil take the hindmost! and down under the bank they scrambled, and took! shelter. I was sitting with my legs hanging out of the pilot-house window. All at once I noticed a whizzing sound passing my ear. Judged it was a bullet. I didn’t stop to think about anything, I just tilted over backwards and landed on the floor, and staid there. The balls came booming around. Three cannon-balls went through the chimney ; one ball took off the corner of the pilot-house; shells were screaming and bursting all around. Mighty warm times — I wished I had n’t come. I lay there on the pilot-house floor, while the shots came faster and faster. I crept in behind the big stove, in the middle of the pilot-house. Presently a minie-ball came through the stove, and just grazed my head, and cut my hat. I judged it was time to go away from there. The captain was on the roof with a red-headed major from Memphis — a fine-looking man. I heard him say he wanted to leave here, but “that pilot is killed.” I crept over to the starboard side to pull the bell to set her back; raised up and took a look, and I saw about fifteen shot holes through the window panes; had come so lively I had n’t noticed them. I glanced out on the water, and the spattering shot were like a hail-storm. I thought best to get out of that place. I went down the pilot-house guy, head first — not feet first but head first — slid down — before I struck the deck, the captain said we must leave there. So I climbed up the guy and got on the floor again. About that time, they collared my partner and were bringing him up to the pilot-house between two soldiers. Somebody had said I was killed. He put his head in and saw me on the floor reaching for the backing bells. He said, “ Oh, hell, he ain’t shot,” and jerked away from the men who had him by the collar, and ran

284    SEEING A FIGHT.

below. We were there until three o’clock in the afternoon, and then got away all right.

The next time I saw my partner, I said, “ Now, come out, be honest, and tell me the truth. Where did you go when you went to see that battle ? ” He says, “ I went down in the hold.” All through that fight I was scared nearly to death. I hardly knew anything, I was so frightened; but you see,

nobody knew that but me. Next day General Polk sent for me, and praised me for my bravery and gallant conduct. I never said anything, I let it go at that. I judged it was n’t so, but it was not for me to contradict a general officer.

Pretty soon af-ter that I was sick, and used up, and had to go off to the Hot Springs. When there, I got a

“where did you'see that fight?”    good    many    letters

from commanders saying they wanted me to come back. I declined, because I was n’t well enough or strong enough; but I kept still, and kept the reputation 1 had made.

A plain story, straightforwardly told; but Mumford told me that that pilot had “ gilded that scare of his, in spots; ” that his subsequent career in the war was proof of it.

SOUTHERN FEUDS.    285

We struck down through the chute of Island No. 8, and I went below and fell into conversation with a passenger, a handsome man, with easy carriage and an intelligent face. We

were approach

DARNELL VS. WATSON.

This gentleman’s home was on the main shore in its neighborhood. I had some talk with him about the war times; but presently the discourse fell upon “ feuds,” for in no part of the South has the vendetta flourished more briskly, or held

286    DARNELL AND WATSON.

out longer between warring families, than in this particular region. This gentleman said : —

“ There’s been more than one feud around here, in old times, but I reckon the worst one was between the Darnells and the Watsons. Nobody don’t know now what the first quarrel was about, it’s so long ago; the Darnells and the Watsons don’t know, if there’s any of them living, which I don’t think there is. Some says it was about a horse or a cow—anyway, it was a little matter; the money in it was n’t of no consequence — none in the world — both families was rich. The thing could have been fixed up, easy enough; but no, that wouldn’t do. Rough words had been passed; and so, nothing but blood could fix it up after, that. That horse or cow, whichever it was, cost sixty years of killing and crippling! Every year or so somebody was shot, on one side or the other; and as fast as one generation was laid out, their sons took up the feud and kept it a-going. And it’s just as I say; they went 011 shooting each other, year in and year out — making a kind of a religion of it, yon see — till they’d done forgot, long ago, what it was all about. Wherever a Darnell caught a Watson, or a Watson caught a Darnell, one of ’em was going to get hurt — only question was, which of them got the drop on the other. They’d shoot one another down, right in the presence of the family. They did n’t hunt for each other,' but when they happened to meet, they pulled and begun. Men would shoot boys, bo}rs would shoot men. A man shot a boy twelve years old — happened 011 him in the woods, and didn’t give him no chance. If he had ’a’ given him a chance, the boy’d ’a’ shot him. Both families belonged to the same church (everybody around here is religious) ; through all this fifty or sixty years’ fuss, both tribes was there every Sunday, to worship. They lived each side of the line, and the church was at a landing called Compromise. Half the church and-half the aisle was in Kentucky, the other half in Tennessee. Sundays you’d see the families drive up, all in their Sunday

PRAYING AND SHOOTING.    287

clothes, men, women, and children, and file up the aisle, and set down, quiet and orderly, one lot on the Tennessee side of the church and the other on the Kentucky side; and the men and boys would lean their guns up against the wall, handy, and then all hands would join in with the prayer and praise; though they say the man next the aisle did n’t kneel down, along with the rest of the family; kind of stood

__guard.    I    don’t


'r;-r_    „    know;    never

was at that

^    chmvl.    in

L ^ my life ;

caught a young    they    kept on shooting.

man of nineteen

out and killed him. Don’t remember whether it was the Darnells and Watsons, or one of the other feuds ; but anyway, this young man rode up — steamboat laying there at the time — and the first thing he saw was a whole gang of the enemy. He jumped down behind a wood-pile, but they rode around and begun on him, he firing back, and

288    THE LAST DARNELL.

they galloping and cavorting and yelling and banging away with all their might. Think he wounded a couple of them; but they closed in on him and chased him into the river; and as ne swum along down stream, they followed along the bank and kept on shooting at him; and when he struck shore he was dead. Windy Marshall told me about it. He saw it. He was captain of the boat.

“Years ago, the Darnells was so thinned out that the. old man and his two sons concluded they ’d leave the country. They started to take steamboat just above No. 10; but the Watsons got wind of it; and they arrived just as the two young Darnells was walking up the companion-way with their wives on their arms. The fight begun then, and they never got no further — both of them killed. After that, old Darnell got into trouble with the man that run the ferry, and the ferry-man got the worst of it—and died. But his friends shot old Darnell through and through — filled him full of bullets, and ended him.”

The country gentleman who told me these things had been reared in ease and comfort, was a man of good parts, and was college bred. His loose grammar was the fruit of careless habit, not ignorance. This habit among educated men in the West is not universal, but it is prevalent — prevalent in the towns, certainly, if not in the cities; and to a degree which one cannot help noticing, and marvelling at. I heard a Westerner who would be accounted a highly educated man in any country, say “ never mind, it don’t make no difference., anyway.” A life-long resident who was present heard it, but it made no impression upon her. She was able to recall the fact afterward, when reminded of it; but she confessed that the words had not grated upon her ear at the time — a confession which suggests that if educated people can hear such blasphemous grammar, from such a source, and be uncon-. scious of the deed, the crime must be tolerably common — so common that the general ear has become dulled by famil-

ISLAND NUMBER TEN.    289

iarity with it, and is no longer alert, 110 longer sensitive to such affronts.

No one in the world speaks blemishless grammar ; 110 one has ever written it — 710 one, either in the world or out of it (taking the Scriptures for evidence 011 the latter point) ; therefore it would not be fair to exact grammatical perfection from the peoples of the Valley ; but they and all other peoples may justly be required to refrain from knowingly and purposely debauching their grammar.

1 found the river greatly changed at Island No. 10. The island which I remembered was some three miles long and a

ISLAND NUMBER TEN.

quarter of a mile wide, heavily timbered, and lay near the Kentucky shore — within two hundred yards of it, I should say. Now, however, one had to hunt for it with a spy-glass. Nothing was left of it but an insignificant little tuft, and this was no longer near the Kentucky shore; it was clear over against the opposite shore, a mile away. In war times the island had been an important place, for it commanded the situation ; and, being heavily fortified, there was no getting by it. It lay between the upper and lower divisions of the Union forces, and kept them separate, until a junction was finally effected across the Missouri neck of land ; but the island being itself joined to that neck now, the wide river is without obstruction.

19

290    RIVER FLOODS.

In tliis region the river passes from Kentucky into Tennessee, back into Missouri, then back into Kentucky, and thence into Tennessee again. So a mile or two of Missouri sticks over into Tennessee.

The town of New Madrid was looking very unwell; but otherwise unchanged from its former condition and aspect. Its blocks of frame-houses were still grouped in the same old flat plain, and environed by the same old forests. It was as tranquil as formerly, and apparently had neither grown nor diminished in size. It was said that the recent high

FLOOD ON THE RIVER.

water had invaded it and damaged its looks. This was surprising news ; for in low water the river bank is very high there (fifty feet), and in my day an overflow had always been considered an impossibility. This present flood of 1882 will doubtless be celebrated in the river’s history for several generations before a deluge of like magnitude shall be seen. It put all the unprotected low lands under water, from Cairo to the mouth ; it broke down the levees in a great many places, on both sides of the river; and in some regions south, when the flood was at its highest, the Mississippi was

DEVASTATION.    291

seventy miles wide! a number of lives were lost, and the destruction of property was fearful. The crops were destroyed, houses washed away, and shelterless men and cattle forced to take refuge on scattering elevations here and there in field and forest, and wait in peril and suffering until the boats put in commission by the national and local governments and by newspaper enterprise could come and rescue them. The properties of multitudes of people were under water for months, and the poorer ones must have starved by the hundred if succor had not been promptly afforded.1 The water had been falling during a considerable time now, yet as a rule we found the banks still under water.

1 For a detailed and interesting description of the great flood, written on board of the New Orleans “ Times-Democrat’s ” relief-boat, see Appendix A.

CHAPTER XXVII.

SOME IMPORTED ARTICLES.

WE met two steamboats at New Madrid. Two steamboats in sight at once! an infrequent spectacle now in the lonesome Mississippi. The loneliness of this solemn, stupendous flood is impressive — and depressing. League after league, and still league after league, it pours its chocolate tide along, between its solid forest walls, its almost untenanted shores, with seldom a sail or a moving object of any kind to disturb the surface and break the monotony of the blank, watery solitude; and so the day goes, the night comes, and again the day — and still the same, night after night and day after day, — majestic, unchanging sameness of serenity, repose, tranquillity, lethargy, vacancy, — symbol of eternity, realization of the heaven pictured by priest and prophet, and longed for by the good and thoughtless !

Immediately after the war of 1812, tourists began to come to America, from England; scattering ones at first, then a sort of procession of them — a procession which kept up its plodding, patient march through the land during many, many years. Each tourist took notes, and went home and published a book — a book which was usually calm, truthful, reasonable, kind; but which seemed just the reverse to our tender-footed progenitors. A glance at these tourist-books shows us that in certain of its aspects the Mississippi has undergone no change since those strangers visited it, but remains to-day about as it was then. The emotions produced in those foreign breasts by these aspects were not all formed

EARLY TOURISTS.    293

on one pattern, of course; they had to be various, along at first, because the earlier tourists were obliged to originate their emotions, whereas in older countries one can always borrow emotions from one’s predecessors. And, mind you, emotions are among the toughest things in the world to manufacture out of whole cloth ; it is easier to manufacture seven facts than one emotion. Captain Basil Hall, R. N., writing fifty-five years ago, says: —

“ Here I caught the first glimpse of the object I had so long wished to behold, and felt myself amply repaid at that moment for all the trouble I had experienced in coming so far ; and stood looking at the river flowing past till it was too dark to distinguish anything. But it was not till I had visited the same spot a dozen times, that I

came to a right comprehension of    ^    'v'

“a dismal witness.”

Following are Mrs. Trollope’s emotions. She is writing a few months later in the same year, 1827, and is coming in at the mouth of the Mississippi: —

“ The first indication of our approach to land was the appearance of this mighty river pouring forth its muddy mass of waters, and mingling with the deep blue of the Mexican Gulf. I never beheld a scene so utterly desolate as this entrance of the Mississippi. Had Dante seen it, he might have drawn images of another Bolgia from

294    ORIGINATED EMOTIONS.

its horrors. One only object rears itself above the eddying waters; this is the mast of a vessel long since wrecked in attempting to cross the bar, and it still stands, a dismal witness of the destruction that has been, and a boding prophet of that which is to come.”

Emotions of' Hon. Charles Augustus Murray (near St. Louis), seven years later: —

“It is only when you ascend the mighty current for fifty or a hundred miles, and use the eye of imagination as well as that of nature, that you begin to understand all his .might and majesty. You see him fertilizing a boundless valley, bearing along in his course the trophies of .his thousand victories over the shattered forest — here carrying away large masses of soil with all their growth, and there forming islands, destined at some future period to be the residence of man; and while indulging in this prospect, it is then time for reflection to suggest that the current before you has flowed through two or three thousand miles, and has yet to travel one thousand three hundred more before reaching its ocean destination.”

Receive, now, the emotions of Captain Marryat, R. N. author of the sea tales, writing in 1837, three years after Mr. Murray: —

“ Never, perhaps, in the records of nations, was there an instance of a century of such unvarying and unmitigated crime as is to be collected from tlm history of the turbulent and blood-stained Mississippi. The stream itself appears as if appropriate for the deeds which have been committed. It is not like most rivers, beautiful to the sight, bestowing fertility in its course; not one that the eye loves to dwell upon as it sweeps along, nor can you wander upon its bank, or trust yourself without danger to its stream. It is a furious, rapid, desolating torrent, loaded with alluvial soil; and few of those who are received into its waters ever rise again,1 or can support themselves long upon its surface without assistance from some friendly log. It contains the coarsest and most uneatable of fish, such as the cat-fish and such genus, and as you descend, its banks

1 There was a foolish superstition of some little prevalence in that day, that the Mississippi would neither buoy up a swimmer, nor permit a drowned person’s body to rise to the surface.

CRUDE LITERATURE.    295

are occupied with the fetid alligator, while the panther basks at its edge in the cane-brakes, almost impervious to man. Pouring its impetuous waters through wild tracks covered with trees of little value except for firewood, it sweeps down whole forests in its course, which disappear in tumultuous confusion, whirled away by the stream now loaded with the masses of soil which nourished their roots, often blocking up and changing for a time the channel of the river, which, as if in anger at its being opposed, inundates and devastates the whole country round; and as soon as it forces its way through its former channel, plants in every direction the uprooted monarchs of the forest (upon whose branches the bird will never again perch, or the raccoon, the opossum, or the squirrel climb) as traps to the adventurous navigators of its waters by steam, who, borne down upon these concealed dangers which pierce through the planks, very often have not time to steer for and gain the shore before they sink to the bottom. There are no pleasing associations connected with the great common sewer of the Western America, which pours out its mud into the Mexican Gulf, polluting the clear blue sea for many miles beyond its mouth. It is a river of desolation; and instead of reminding you, like other beautiful rivers, of an angel which has descended for the benefit of man, you imagine it a devil, whose energies have been only overcome by the wonderful power of steam.”

It is pretty crude literature for a man accustomed to handling a pen; still, as a panorama of the emotions sent weltering through this noted visitor’s breast by the aspect and traditions of the “ great common sewer,” it has a value. A value, though marred in the matter of statistics by inaccuracies ; for the catfish is a plenty good enough fish for anybody, and there are no panthers that are “ impervious to man.”

Later still comes Alexander Mackay, of the Middle Temple, Barrister at Law, with a better digestion, and no catfish dinner aboard, and feels as follows : —

“ The Mississippi! It was with indescribable emotions that I first felt myself afloat upon its waters. How often in my school-boy dreams, and in my waking visions afterwards, had my imagination

296    THE FIRST SHALL BE LAST.

pictured to itself the lordly stream, rolling with tumultuous current through the boundless region to which it has given its name, and gathering into itself, in its course to the ocean, the tributary waters of almost every latitude in the temperate zone! .Here it was then in its reality, and I, at length, steaming against its tide. I looked upon it with that reverence with which every one must regard a great feature of external nature.”

So much for the emotions. The tourists, one and all, remark upon the deep, brooding loneliness and desolation of the vast river. Captain Basil Hall, who saw it at flood-stage, says: —

“ Sometimes we passed along distances of twenty or thirty miles without seeing a single habitation. An artist, in search of hints for a painting of the deluge, would here have found them in abundance.”

The first shall be last, etc. Just two hundred years ago, the old original first and gallantest of all the foreign tourists, pioneer, head of the procession, ended his weary and tedious discovery-voyage down the solemn stretches of the great river — La Salle, whose name will last as long as the river itself shall last. We quote from Mr. Parkman : —

“And now, they neared their: journey’s end. On the sixth of April, the river divided itself into three broad channels. La Salle followed that of the west, and D’Autray that of the east; while Tonty took the middle passage. As he drifted down the turbid current, between the low and marshy shores, the brackish water changed to brine, and the breeze grew fresh with the salt breath of the sea. Then the broad bosom of the great Gulf opened on his sight, tossing its restless billows, limitless, voiceless, lonely as when born of chaos, without a sail, without a sign of life.”

Then, on a spot of solid ground, La Salle reared a column “ bearing the arms of Prance ; the Frenchmen were mustered under arms; and while the New England Indians and their squaws looked on in wondering silence, they chanted the Te Deum, the JExaudictt, and the Domine salvumfac regem”

A CELEBRATION LOST.    297

Then, whilst the musketry volleyed and rejoicing shouts burst forth, the victorious discoverer planted the column, and made proclamation in a loud voice, taking formal possession of the river and the vast countries watered by it, in the name of the King. The column bore this inscription : —

LOUIS LE GRAND, ROY DE FRANCE ET DE NAVARRE, REGNE ;

LE NEUVIEME AVRIL, 1682.

New Orleans intended to fittingly celebrate, this present year, the bicentennial anniversary of this illustrious event; but when the time came, all her energies and surplus money were required in other directions, for the flood was upon the land then, making havoc and devastation everywhere.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

UNCLE MUMFORD UNLOADS.

ALL day we swung along down the river, and had the stream almost wholly to ourselves. Formerly, at such a stage of the water, we should have passed acres of lumber rafts, and dozens of big coal barges; also occasional little trading-scows, peddling along from farm to farm, with the

THE STEAMEK MARK TWAIN.”

pedler’s family on board; possibly, a random scow, bearing a humble Hamlet and Co. on an itinerant dramatic trip. But these were all absent. Far along in the day, we saw one steamboat; just one, and no more. She was lying at rest in the shade, within the wooded mouth of the Obion

DARKNESS VISIBLE.    299

River. The spy-glass revealed the fact that she was named for me — or he was named for me, whichever you prefer. As this was the first time I had ever encountered this species of honor, it seems excusable to mention it, and at the same time call the attention of the authorities to the tardiness of my recognition of it.

Noted a big change in the river, at Island 21. It was a very large island, and used to lie out toward mid-stream; but it is joined fast to the main shore now, and has retired from business as an island.

As we approached famous and formidable Plum Point, darkness fell, but that was nothing to shudder about — in these modern times. For now the national government has turned the Mississippi into a sort of two-thousand-mile torch-liglit procession. In the head of every crossing, and in the foot of every crossing, the government has set up a clear-burning lamp. You are never entirely in the dark, now; there is always a beacon in sight, either before you, or behind you, or abreast. One might almost say that lamps have been squandered there. Dozens of crossings are lighted which were not shoal when they were created, and have never been shoal since; a government lamp. crossings so plain, too, and also

so straight, that a steamboat can take herself through them without any help, after she has been through once. Lamps in such places are of course not wasted ; it is much more convenient and comfortable for a pilot to hold on them than on a spread of formless blackness that won’t stay still; and money is saved to the boat, at the same time, for she can of course make more miles with her rudder amidships than

300    NO MORE ANXIETY.

she can with it squared across her stern and holding her back.

But this thing has knocked the romance out of piloting, to a large extent. It and some other things together, have knocked all the romance out of it. For instance, the peril from snags is not now what it once was. The government’s snag-boats go patrolling up and down, in these matter-of-fact days, pulling the river’s teeth; they have rooted out all the old clusters which made many localities so formidable; and they allow 110 new ones to collect. Formerly, if your boat got away from you, on a black night, and broke for the woods, it was an anxious time with you; so was it also,

“ SNAGS.”

when you were groping your way through solidified darkness in a narrow chute ; but all that is changed now,—you flash out your electric light, transform night into day in the twinkling of an eye, and your perils and anxieties are at an end. Horace Bixby and George Ritchie have charted the crossings and laid out the courses by compass; they have invented a lamp to go with the chart, and have patented the whole. With these helps, one may run in the fog now, with considerable security, and with a confidence unknown in the old days.

With these abundant beacons, the banishment of snags, plenty of daylight in a box and ready to be turned on when-

CAPTAINS PROMOTED.    301

ever needed, and a chart and compass to fight the fog with, piloting, at a good stage of water, is now nearly as safe and simple as driving stage, and is hardly more than three times as romantic.

And now in these new days, these days of infinite change, the Anchor Line have raised the captain above the pilot by giving him the bigger wages of the two. This was going far, but they have not stopped there. They have decreed that the pilot shall remain at his post, and stand his watch clear through, whether the boat be under way or tied up to the shore. We, that were once the aristocrats of the river, can’t go to bed now, as we used to do, and sleep while

RUNNING IN A FOG.

a hundred tons of freight are lugged aboard ; no, we must sit in the pilot-house ; and keep awake, too. Verily we are being treated like a parcel of mates and engineers. The Government has taken away the romance of our calling ; the Company has taken away its state and dignity.

Plum Point looked as it had always looked by night, witli the exception that now there were beacons to mark the crossings, and also a lot of other lights 011 the Point and along its shore; these latter glinting from the fleet of the United States River Commission, and from a village which the officials have built on the land for offices and for the employes of the service. The military engineers of the Commission

802    DIKES AND WING-DAMS.

have taken upon their shoulders the job of making the Mississippi over again, — a job transcended in size by only the original job of creating it. They are building wing-dams here and there, to deflect the current; and dikes to confine it in narrower bounds; and other dikes to make it stay there ; and for unnumbered miles along the Mississippi, they are. felling the timber-front for fifty yards back, with the purpose of shaving the bank down to low-water mark with the slant of a house-roof, and ballasting it with stones ; and in many places they have protected the wasting shores with rows of piles. One who knows the Mississippi will promptly aver — not aloud, but to himself — that ten thousand River Commissions, with the mines of the world at their back, cannot tame that lawless stream, cannot curb it or confine it, cannot say to it, Go here, or Go there, and make it obey; cannot save a shore which it has sentenced; cannot bar its path with an obstruction which it will not tear down, dance over, and laugh at. But a discreet man will not put these things into spoken words; for the West Point engineers have‘not their superiors anywhere ; they know all that can be known of their abstruse science; and so, since they conceive that they can fetter and handcuff that river and boss him, it is but wisdom for the unscientific man to keep still, lie low, and wait till they do it. Captain Eads, with his jetties, has done a work at the mouth of the Mississippi which seemed clearly impossible ; so we do not feel full confidence now to prophesy against like impossibilities. Otherwise one would pipe out and say the Commission might as well bully the comets in their courses and undertake to make them behave, as try to bully the Mississippi into right and reasonable conduct.

I consulted Uncle Mumford concerning this and cognate matters; and I give here the result, stenograpliically reported, and therefore to be relied on as being full and correct; except that I have here and there left out remarks' which were addressed to the men, such as “ ivhere in blazes are you going with that barrel now ? ” and which seemed to

UNCLE MUMFORD.    303

me to break the flow of the written statement, without compensating by adding to its information or its clearness. Not that I have ventured to strike out all such interjections; I have removed only those which were obviously irrelevant; wherever one occurred which I felt any question about, I have judged it safest to let it remain.

UNCLE MUMFORD’S IMPRESSIONS.

Uncle Mumford said : —

“As long as I have been mate of a steamboat, — thirty years — I have watched this river and studied it. Maybe I could have learnt more about it at West Point, but if I believe it I wish I may beWHAT are you sucking your fingers there for?Collar that hag of nails ! Pour years at West Point, and plenty of books and schooling, will learn a man a good deal, I reckon, but it won’t learn him the river. You turn one of those little European rivers over to this Commission, with its hard bottom and clear water, and it would just be a holiday job for them to wall it, and pile it, and dike it, and tame it down, and boss it around, and make it go wherever they wanted it to, and stay where they put it, and do just as they said, every time. But this ain’t that kind of a river. They have started in here with big confidence, and the best intentions in the world ; but they are going to get left. What does Ecclesiastes vii. 13 say ? Says enough to knock their little game galley-west, don’t it? Now you look at their methods once. There at Devil’s Island, in the Upper River, they wanted the water to go one way, the water wanted to go another. So they put up a stone wall. But what does the river care fora stone wall? When it got ready, it just bulged through it. Maybe they can build another that will stay; that is, up there — but not down here they can’t. Down here in the Lower River, they drive some pegs to turn the water away from the shore and stop it from slicing off the bank; very well, don’t it go straight over and cut some-.

304    PEGGING THE RIVER.

body else’s bank ? Certainly. Are they going to peg all the banks ? Why, they could buy ground and build a new Mississippi, cheaper. They are pegging Bulletin Tow-head now. It won’t do any good. If the river has got a mortgage on that island, it will foreclose, sure, pegs or no pegs. Away down yonder, they have driven two rows of piles straight through the middle of a dry bar half a mile long, which is forty foot out of the water when the river is low. What do you reckon that is for ? If I know, I wish I may land in-HUMP yourself , you son of an undertaker !out with that coal-oil, now, lively, lively ! And just look at what they are trying to do down there at Milliken’s Bend. There’s been a cut-off in that section, and Vicksburg is left out in the cold. It’s a country town now. The river strikes in below it; and a boat can’t go up to the town except in high water. Well, they are going to build wing-dams in the bend opposite the foot of 103, and throw the water over and cut off the foot of the island and plow down into an old ditch where the river used to be in ancient times; and they think they can persuade the water around that way, and get it to strike in above Vicksburg, as it used to do, and fetch the town back into the world again. That is, they are going .to take this whole Mississippi, and twist it around and make it run several miles up stream. Well, you’ve got to admire men that deal in ideas of that size and can tote them around without crutches; but you have n’t got to believe they can do such miracles, have you ? And yet you ain’t absolutely obliged to believe they can’t. I reckon the safe way, where a man can afford it, is to copper the operation, and at the same time buy enough, property in Vicksburg to square you up in case they win. Government is doing a deal for the Mississippi, now — spending loads of money on her. When there used to be four thousand steamboats and ten'thousand acres of coal-barges, and rafts and trading scows, there was n’t a lantern from St. Paul to New Orleans, and the snags were thicker than bristles on a hog’s back ; and now when there’s three


CONFUSING OPINIONS.    30T

dozen steamboats and nary barge or raft, Government has snatched out all the snags, and lit up the shores like Broadway, and a boat’s as safe on the river as she ’d be in heaven. And I reckon that by the time there ain’t any boats left at all, the Commission will have the old thing all reorganized, and dredged out, and fenced in, and tidied up, to a degree that will make navigation just simply perfect, and absolutely safe and profitable; and all the days will be Sundays, and all the mates will be Sunday-school suWliAJY-in-the-nation-you-fooling-around-there-for, you sons of unrighteousness, heirs of perdition ! Going to be a year getting that hogshead ashore f

During our trip to New Orleans and back, we had many conversations with river men, planters, journalists, and officers of the River Commission — with conflicting and confusing results. To wit: —

1. Some believed in the Commission’s scheme to arbitrarily and permanently confine (and thus deepen) the channel, preserve threatened shores, etc.

- 2. Some believed that the Commission’s money ought to be spent only on building and repairing the great system of levees.

3. Some believed that the higher you build your levee, the higher the river’s bottom will rise; and that consequently the levee system is a mistake.

4. Some believed in the scheme to relieve the river, in flood-time, by turning its surplus waters off into Lake Borgne, etc.

5. Some believed in the scheme of northern lake-reservoirs to replenish the Mississippi in low-water seasons.

Wherever you find a man down there who believes in one of these theories you may turn to the next man and frame your talk upon the hypothesis that he doesnot believe in that theory; and after you have had experience, you do not take this course doubtfully, or hesitatingly, but with the confidence of a dying murderer — converted one, I mean. For you

308    DISEASE    AND    CURE.

will have come to know, with a deep and restful certaintv, that you are not going to meet two people sick of the same theory, one right after the other. No, there will always be

TALKING OVER THE SITUATION.

one or two with the other diseases along between. And as you proceed, you will find out one or two other things. You will find out that there is no distemper of the lot but is contagious ; and you cannot go where it is without catching it. You may vaccinate yourself with deterrent facts as much as

A VALUABLE OPINION.    309

yon please — it will do no good ; it will seem to “ take,” but it does n’t; the moment you rub against any one of those theorists, make up your mind that it is time to hang out your yellow flag.

Yes, you are his sure victim: yet his work is not all to your hurt — only part of it; for he is like your family physician, who comes and cures the mumps, and leaves the scarlet-fever behind. If your man is a Lake-Borgne-relief theorist, for instance, he will exhale a cloud of deadly facts and statistics which will lay you out with that disease, sure ; but at the same time he will cure you of any other of the five theories that may have previously got into your system.

I have had all the five; and had them “ bad; ” but ask me not, in mournful numbers, which one racked me hardest, or which one numbered the biggest sick list, for I do not know. In truth, no one can answer the latter question. Mississippi Improvement is a mighty topic, down yonder. Every man on the river banks, south of Cairo, talks about it every day, during such moments as he is able to spare from talking about the war; and each of the several chief theories has, its host of zealous partisans; but, as I have said, it is not possible to determine which cause numbers the most recruits.

All were agreed upon one point, however: if Congress would make a sufficient appropriation, a colossal benefit would result. Yery well; since then the appropriation has been made — possibly a sufficient one, certainly not too large a one. Let us hope that the prophecy will be amply fulfilled.

One thing:will be easily granted by the reader; that an opinion from Mr. Edward Atkinson, upon any vast national commercial matter, comes as near ranking as authority, as can the opinion of any individual in the Union. What he has to say about Mississippi River Improvement will be found in the Appendix.1

1

See Appendix B.

310    THE VALUE OF TOWAGE.

Sometimes, half a dozen figures will reveal, as with a lightning-flash, the importance of a subject which ten thousand labored words, with the same purpose in view, had left at last but dim and uncertain. Here is a case of the sort — paragraph from the “ Cincinnati Commercial: ” —

“ The towboat ‘ Jos. B. Williams ’ is on her way to New Orleans with a tow of thirty-two barges, containing six hundred thousand bushels (seventy-six pounds to the bushel) of coal exclusive of her own fuel, being the largest tow ever taken to New Orleans or anywhere else in the world. Her freight bill, at 3 cents a bushel, amounts to $18,000. It would take eighteen hundred cars, of three

hundred and thirty-three bushels to the car, to transport this amount of coal. At $10 per ton, or $100 per car, which would be a fair price for the distance by rail, the freight bill would amount to $180,000, or $162,000 more by rail than by river. The tow will be taken from Pittsburg to New Orleans in fourteen or fifteen days. It would take one hundred trains of eighteen cars to the train to trans{>ort this one tow of six hundred thousand bushels of coal, and even if it made the usual speed of fast freight lines, it would take one whole summer to put it through by rail.”

When a river in good condition can enable one to save $162,000 and a whole summer’s time, on a single cargo, the wisdom of taking measures to keep the river in good condition is made plain to even the uncommercial mind.

CHAPTER XXIX.

A FEW SPECIMEN BRICKS.

E passed through the Plum Point region, turned Craig


head’s Point, and glided unchallenged by what was once the formidable Fort Pillow, memorable because of the massacre perpetrated there during the war. Massacres are sprinkled with some frequency through the histories of several Christian nations, but this is almost the only one that can he found in American history; perhaps it is the only one which rises to a size correspondent to that huge and sombre title. We have the “ Boston Massacre,” where two or three people were killed; but we must bunch Anglo-Saxon history together to find the fellow to the Fort Pillow tragedy; and doubtless even then we must travel back to the days and the performances of Coeur de Lion, that fine “ hero,” before we accomplish it.

More of the river’s freaks. In times past, the channel used to strike above Island 37, by Brandywine Bar, and down towards Island 39. Afterward, changed its course and went from Brandywine down through Yogelman’s chute in the Devil’s Elbow, to Island 39 — part of this course reversing the old order; the river running up four or five miles, instead of down, and cutting off, throughout, some fifteen miles of distance. This in 1876. All that region is now called Centennial Island.

There is a tradition that Island 37 was one of the principal abiding places of the once celebrated “ Murel’s Gang.” This was a colossal combination of robbers, horse-thieves, negro-stealers, and counterfeiters, engaged in busi-

312    JAMES OUTDONE.

ness along the river some fifty or sixty years ago. While our journey across the country towards St. Louis was in progress we had had no end of Jesse James and his stirring history; for he had just been assassinated by an agent of

the Governor of Missouri, and was in consequence occupying a good deal of space in the newspapers. Cheap histories of him were for sale by train boys. According to these, he was the most marvellous creature of his kind that had ever existed. It was a mistake. Murel was his equal in boldness; in pluck; in rapacity ; in cruelty, brutality, heartlessness, treachery, and in general and comprehensive vile-

A SOUL-MOVING VILLAIN.

ness and shamelessness ; and very much his superior in some larger aspects. James was a retail rascal; Murel, wholesale. James’s modest genius dreamed of no loftier flight than the planning of raids upon cars, coaches, and country banks ; Murel projected negro insurrections and the capture of New Orleans; and furthermore, on occasion, this Murel could go into a pulpit and edify the congregation. What are James and his half-dozen vulgar rascals compared with this stately old-time criminal, with his sermons, his meditated insurrections and city-captures, and his majestic following of ten hundred men, sworn to do his evil will!

A FORGOTTEN BOOK.

313

Here is a paragraph 01* two concerning this big operator, from a now forgotten book which was published half a century .ago : —

He appears to have been a most dexterous as well as consummate villain. When he travelled, his usual disguise was that of an itiner-

SELLING THE NEGRO.

ant preacher: and it is said that his discourses were very “ soul-moving ” — interesting the hearers so much that they forgot to look after their horses, which were carried awav bv his confederates while

314    LUCRATIVE VILLANY.

he was preaching. But the stealing of horses in one State, and selling them in another, was but a small portion of their business; the most lucrative was the enticing slaves to run away from their masters, that they might sell them in another quarter. This was arranged as follows ; they would tell a negro that if he would run away from his master, and allow them to sell him, he should receive a portion of the money paid for him, and that upon his return to them a second time they would send him to a free State, where he would be safe. The poor wretches complied with this request, hoping to

obtain money and freedom ; they would be sold to another master, and run away again to their employers; sometimes they would be sold in this manner three or four times, until they had realized three or four thousand dollars by them ; but as, after this, there was fear of detection, the usual custom was to get rid of the only witness that could be produced against them, which was the negro himself, by murdering him, and throwing his body into the Mississippi. Even if it was established that they had stolen a negro, before he was murdered, they    were    always    prepared    to    evade    punishment; for they concealed    the    negro    who    had    run    away,    until he was advertised,

and a reward offered to any man who would catch him. An advertisement of this kind warrants the person to take the property, if found. And then the negro becomes a property in trust, when,

A SWEEPING COMBINATION.    315

therefore, they sold the negro, it only became a breach of trust, not stealing; and for a breach of trust, the owner of the property can only have redress by a civil action, which was useless, as the damages were never paid. It may be inquired, how it was that Murel escaped Lynch law under such circumstances ? This will be easily understood when it is stated that he had more than a thousand sworn confederates, all ready at a moment’s notice to support any of the gang who might be in trouble. The names of all the principal confederates of Murel were obtained from himself, in a manner which I shall presently explain. The gang was composed of two classes: the Heads or Council, as they were called, who planned and concerted, but seldom acted; they amounted to about four hundred. The other class were the active agents, and were termed strikers, and amounted to about six hundred and fifty. These were the tools in the hands of the others; they ran all the risk, and received but a small portion of the money; they were in the power of the leaders of the gang, who would sacrifice them at any time by handing them over to justice, or sinking their bodies in the Mississippi. The general rendezvous of this gang of miscreants was on the Arkansas side of the river, where they concealed their negroes in the morasses and cane-brakes.

The depredations of this extensive combination were severely felt; but so well were their plans arranged, that although Murel, who was always active, was everywhere suspected, there was no proof to be obtained. It so happened, however, that a young man of the name of Stewart, who was looking after two slaves which Murel had decoyed away, fell in with him and obtained his confidence, took the oath, and was admitted into the gang as one of the General Council. By this means all was discovered ; for Stewart turned traitor, although he had taken the oath, and having obtained every information, exposed the whole concern, the names of all the parties, and finally succeeded in bringing home sufficient evidence against Murel, to procure his conviction and sentence to the Penitentiary (Murel was sentenced to fourteen years’ imprisonment) ; so many people who were supposed to be honest, and bore a respectable name in the different States, were found to be among the list of the Grand Council as published by Stewart, that every attempt was made to throw discredit upon his assertions — his character

316    A STUPENDOUS CONSPIRACY.

was vilified, and more than one attempt was made to assassinate him. He was obliged to quit the Southern States in consequence. It is, however, now well ascertained to have been all true; and although some blame Mr. Stewart for having violated his oath, they no longer attempt to deny that his revelations were correct. I will quote one or two portions of Murel’s confessions to Mr. Stewart, made to him when they were journeying together. I ought to have

observed, that the ultimate intentions of Murel and his associates were, by his own account, on a very extended scale; having no less an object in view than raising the blacks against the whites, taking possession of, and plundering New Orleans, and making themselves possessors of the territory. The following are a few extracts: —

“I collected all my f r ie n d s about New Orleans at one of our friends’ houses in that place, and we sat in council three days before we got all our plans to our notion; we then determined to undertake the rebellion at every hazard, and make as many friends as we could for that purpose. Every man’s business being assigned him, I started to Natchez on foot, having sold my horse in New Orleans, —with the intention of stealing another after I started. I walked four days, and no opportunity offered for me to get a horse. The fifth day, about twelve, I had become tired, and stopped at a creek

SHORT SHRIFT.    317

to get some water and rest a little. While I was sitting on a log, looking down the road the way that I had come, a man came in sight riding on a good-looking horse. The very moment I saw him, I was determined to

I SHOT HIM THROUGH THE HEAD.

eller. I arose and drew an elegant rifle pistol on him and ordered him to dismount. He did so, and I took his horse by the bridle and pointed down the creek, and ordered him to walk before me. He went a few hundred yards and stopped. I hitched his horse, and then made him undress himself, all to his shirt and drawers,

318    RICH PLUNDER.

and ordered him to turn his back to me. He said, ‘ If you are determined to kill me, let me have time to pray before I die.’ I told him I had no time to hear him pray. He turned around and dropped on his knees, and I shot him through the back of the head. I ripped open his belly and took out his entrails, and sunk him in the creek. I then searched his pockets, and found four hundred dollars and thirty seven cents, and a number of papers that I did not take time to examine. I sunk the pocket-book and papers and his hat, in the creek. His boots were bran-new, and fitted me genteelly; and I put them on and sunk my old shoes in the creek, to atone for them. I rolled up his clothes and put them into his portmanteau, as they were bran-new cloth of the best quality. I mounted as line a horse as ever I straddled, and directed my course for Natchez in much better style than I had been for the last live days.

“ Myself and a fellow by the name of Crenshaw gathered four good horses and started for Georgia. We got in company with a young South Carolinian just before we got to Cumberland Mountain, and Crenshaw soon knew all about his business. He had been to Tennessee to buy a drove of hogs, but when he got there pork was dearer than he calculated, and he declined purchasing. We concluded he was a prize. Crenshaw winked at me ; I understood his idea. Crenshaw had travelled the road before, but I never had; we had travelled several miles on the mountain, when lie passed near a great precipice ; just before we passed it Crenshaw asked me for my whip, which had a pound of lead in the butt; I handed it to him, and he rode up by the side of the South Carolinian, and gave him a blow on the side of the head and tumbled him from his horse ; we lit from our horses and lingered his pockets ; we got twelve hundred and sixty-two dollars. Crenshaw said he knew a place to hide him, and he gathered him under his arms, and I by his feet, and conveyed him to a deep crevice in the brow of the precipice, and tumbled him into it, and he went out of sight; we then tumbled in his saddle, and took his horse with us, which was worth two hundred dollars.

“ We were detained a few days, and during that time our friend went to a little village in the neighborhood and saw the negro advertised (a negro in our possession), and a description of the

MORE MURDERS.    319

two men of whom he had been purchased, and giving his suspicions of the men. It was rather squally times, but any port in

a storm: we took

through the head. We took out his entrails and sunk him in the creek.

“ He had sold the other negro the third time on Arkansaw River for upwards of five hundred dollars ; and then stole him and deliv-

320    NEARING MEMPHIS.

ered him into the hand of his friend, who conducted him to a swamp, and veiled the tragic scene, and got the last gleanings and sacred pledge of secrecy; as a game of that kind will not do unless it ends in a mystery to all but the fraternity. He sold the negro, first and

last, for nearly two thousand dollars, and then put him forever out of the reach of all pursuers ; and they can never graze him unless they can find the negro; and that they cannot do, for his carcass has fed many a tortoise and catfish before this time, and the frogs have sung this many a long day to the silent repose of his skeleton.”

We were ap-proaching Memphis, in front of which city, and witnessed by its people, was

“pleasantly situated.”    fought    the

most famous of

the river battles of the Civil War. Two men whom I had served under, in my river days, took part in that fight: Mr. Bixby, head pilot of the Union fleet, and Montgomery, Com-

DISASTROUS TIMES.    821

modore of the Confederate fleet. Both saw a great deal of active service during the war, and achieved high reputations for pluck and capacity.

As we neared Memphis, we began to cast about for an excuse to stay with the “ Gold Dust ” to the end of her course — Yicksburg. We were so pleasantly situated, that we did not wish to make a change. I had an errand of considerable importance to do at Napoleon, Arkansas, but perhaps I could'manage it without quitting the “Gold Dust.” I said as much; so we decided to stick to present quarters.

The boat was to tarry at Memphis till ten the next morning. It is a beautiful city, nobly situated on a commanding bluff overlooking the river. The streets are straight and spacious, though not payed in a way to incite distempered admiration. No, the admiration must be reserved for the town’s sewerage system, which is called perfect; a recent reform, however, for it was just the other way, up to a few years ago — a reform resulting from the lesson taught by a desolating visitation of the yellow-fever. In those awful days the people were swept off by hundreds, by .thousands; and so great was the reduction caused by flight and by death together, that the population was diminished three-fourths, and so remained for a time. Business stood nearly still, and the streets bore an empty Sunday aspect.

Here is a picture of Memphis, at.that disastrous time, drawn by a German tourist who seems to have been an eyewitness of the scenes which he describes. It is from Chapter VII., of his book, just published, in Leipzig, “ Mississippi-Eahrten, von Ernst von Hesse-Wartegg —

“In August the yellow-fever had reached its extremes! height. Daily, hundreds fell a sacrifice to the terrible epidemic. The city was become a mighty graveyard, two-thirds of the population had deserted the place, and only the poor, the aged and the sick, remained behind, a sure prey for the insidious enemy. The houses were closed: little lamps burned in front of many — a sign that here death had entered. Often, several lay dead in a single house ;

21

SAD SCENES.

322

from the windows hung black crape. The stores were shut up, for their owners were gone away or dead.

‘•Fearful evil! In the briefest space it struck down and swept away even the most vigorous victim. A slight indisposition, then an hour of fever, then the hideous delirium, then — the Yellow Death! On the street corners, and in the squares, lay sick men, suddenly overtaken by the disease ; and even corpses, distorted and rigid. Food failed. Meat spoiled in a few hours in the fetid and pestiferous air, and turned black.

“ Fearful clamors issue from many houses ; then after a season they cease, and all is still: noble, self-sacrificing men come with the


coffin, nail it up, and carry it away, to the graveyard. In Memphis: a landing stage.    the    night stillness

reigns. Only the

physicians and the hearses hurry through the streets ; and out of the distance, at intervals, comes the muffled thunder of the railway train, which with the speed of the wind, and as if hunted by furies, flies by the pest-ridden city without halting.”

THE SAMARITAN CITY.    323

But tliere is life enough there now. The population exceeds forty thousand and is augmenting, and trade is in a nourishing condition. - We drove about the city ; visited the park and the sociable horde of squirrels there; saw the line residences, rose-clad and in other ways enticing to the eye; and got a good breakfast at the.hotel.

A thriving place is the Good Samaritan City of the Mississippi: has a great wholesale jobbing trade ; foundries, machine shops; and manufactories of wagons, carriages, and cotton-seed oil; and is shortly to have cotton mills and elevators.

Her cotton receipts reached live hundred thousand bales last year — an increase of sixty thousand over the .year before. Out from her healthy commercial heart issue five trunk lines of railway; and a sixth is being added.

This is a very different Memphis from the one which the vanished and unremembered procession of foreign tourists used to put into their books long time ago. In the days of the now forgotten but once renowned and vigorously hated Mrs. Trollope, Memphis seems to have consisted mainly of one long street of log-houses, with some outlying cabins sprinkled around rearward toward the woods; and now and then a pig, and no- end of mud. That was fifty-five years ago. She stopped at the hotel. Plainly it was not the one which gave us our breakfast. She says : —

“ The table was laid for fifty persons, and was nearly full. They ate in perfect silence, and with such astonishing rapidity that their dinner was over literally before ours was begun ; the only sounds heard were those produced by the knives and forks, with the unceasing chorus of coughing, etc.”

“Coughing, ctcP The “etc.” stands for an unpleasant word there, a word which she docs not always charitably cover up, but sometimes prints. You will find it in the following description of a steamboat dinner which she ate in company with a lot of aristocratic planters: wealthy, well-

324    OLD-TIME MANNERS.

born, ignorant swells they were, tinselled with the usual harmless military and judicial titles of that old day of cheap shams and windy pretence : —

“ The total want of all the usual courtesies of the table ; the voracious rapidity with which the viands were seized and devoured ;

from die contamination of .'" ‘    absolutely    impossible    to    protect    our dresses; the

frightful manner of feeding with their knives, till the whole blade seemed to enter into the mouth ; and the still more frightful manner of cleaning the teeth afterward with a pocket knife, soon forced us to feel that we were not surrounded by the generals, colonels, and majors of the old world; and that the dinner hour was to be anything rather than an hour of enjoyment.”

CHAPTER XXX.

SKETCHES BY THE WAY.

IT was a big river,below Memphis; banks brimming full, everywhere, and very frequently more than full, the waters pouring out over the land, flooding the woods and fields for miles into the interior; and in places, to a depth of fifteen feet; signs, all about, of men’s hard work gone to ruin, and all to be done over again, with straitened means and a weakened courage. A melancholy picture, and a continuous one; — hundreds of miles of it. Sometimes the bea-con lights stood in water three feet deep, in the edge of dense forests which extended for miles without farm, wood-yard, clearing, or break of any kind; which meant that the keeper of the light must come in a skiff a great distance to discharge his trust, — and often in desperate weather. Yet I was told that the work is faithfully performed, in all weathers; and not

A LIGHT KEEPER.

326    THE MIGRATORY REGION.

always by men, sometimes by women, if the man is sick or absent. The Government furnishes oil, and pays ten or fifteen dollars a month for the lighting and tending. A Government boat distributes oil and pays wages once a month.

The Ship Island region was as woodsy and tenantless as ever. The island has ceased to be an island; has joined itself compactly to the main shore, and wagons travel, .now, where the steamboats used to navigate. No signs left of the wreck of the “ Pennsylvania.” Some farmer will turn up her bones with his plow one day, no doubt, and be surprised.

We were getting down now into the migrating negro region. These poor people could never travel when they were slaves; so they make up for the privation now. They stay on a plantation till the desire to travel seizes them; then they pack up, hail a steamboat, and clear out. Not for any particular place; no, nearly any place will answer; they only want to be moving. The amount of money on hand will answer the rest of the conundrum for them. If it will take them fifty miles, very well; let it be fifty. If not,a shorter flight will do.

During a couple of days, we frequently answered these hails. Sometimes there was a group of liigh-water-stained, tumble-down cabins, populous with colored folk, and no whites visible ; with grassless patches of dry ground here and there; a few felled trees, with skeleton cattle, mules, and horses, eating the leaves and gnawing the bark — no other food for them in the flood-wasted land. Sometimes there was a single lonely landing-cabin ; near it the colored family that had hailed us ; little and big, old and young, roosting on the scant pile of household goods ; these consisting of a rusty gun, some bedticks, chests, tinware, stools, a crippled looking-glass, a venerable arm-chair, and six or eight base-born and spiritless yellow curs, attached to the family by strings. They must have their dogs ; can’t go without their dogs. Yet the dogs are never willing ; they always object; so, one

LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG.    327

after another, in ridiculous procession, they are dragged aboard ; all four feet braced and sliding along the stage, head likely to be pulled off; but the tugger marching determinedly forward, bending to his work, with the rope over his shoulder for better purchase. Sometimes a child is forgotten and left on the bank; but never a dog.

The usual river-gossip going on in the pilot-house. Island No. 63 — an island with a lovely “chute,” or passage,

behind it in the former

poor old broken-down, superannuated fellow — left him at the wheel, at the foot of 63, to run off the watch. The ancient mariner went up through the chute, and down the river outside; and up the chute and down the river

328    WENT BY A-SPARKLIN’.

again ; and yet again and again; and handed the boat over to the relieving pilot, at the end of three hours of honest endeavor, at the same old foot of the island where he had originally taken the wheel! A darkey on shore who had observed the boat go by, about thirteen times, said, “ ‘clar to gracious, I would n’t be s’prised if dey’s a whole line o’ dem Sk’ylarks! ”

Anecdote illustrative of influence of reputation in the changing of opinion. The “ Eclipse ” was renowned for her swiftness. One day she passed along; an old darkey on shore,

absorbed in his own matters, did not notice what steamer it was. Presently some one asked : — “Any boat gone up?”

“any boat gone up?”

“ Yes, sah.”

“ Was she going fast ? ”

“ Oh, so-so — loafin’ along.”

“ Now, do you know what boat that was ? ”

“ No, sah.”

“ Why, uncle, that was the ‘ Eclipse.’ ”

“Mo! Is dat so? Well, I bet it was — cause she jes’ went by here a-sparJclin’!”

Piece of history illustrative of the violent style of some of the people down along here. During the early weeks of high water, A’s fence rails washed down on B’s ground, and B’s rails washed up in the eddy and landed on A’s ground. A said,

ENERGETIC ARGUMENTS.    329

“ Let the thing remain so; I will use your rails, and you use mine.” But JB objected — wouldn’t have it so. One day, A came down on B’s ground to get his rails. B said. ‘‘I’ll kill you!” and proceeded for him with his revolver. A said, “I’m not .armed.” So B, who wished to do only what was right, threw down his revolver; then pulled a knife, and cut A’s throat all. around, but gave his principal attention to the front, and so failed to sever the jugular. Struggling around, A managed to get his hands on the discarded revolver, and shot B dead with it—and recovered from his own injuries.

Further gossip; — after which, everybody went below to get afternoon coffee, and left me at the wheel, alone. Something presently reminded me - of our last hour in St. Louis, part 'of which I spent on this boat’s hurricane deck, aft. I was joiiied there by a stranger, who dropped into conversation with me — a brisk young fellow, who said he was born in a town in the interior of Wisconsin, and had never seen a steamboat until a week before. Also said that on the way down from La Crosse he had inspected and examined his boat so diligently and with :such passionate interest that lie had mastered the whole thing from stem to rudder-blade. Asked me where I was from. I answered, New England. “ Oh, a Yank ! ” said he ; and went chatting straight along, without waiting for assent or denial. He immediately proposed to take me all over the boat and tell me the names of her different parts, and teach me their uses. Before I could enter protest or excuse, he was already rattling glibly away at his benevolent work; and when I perceived that he was misnaming the things, and inhospitably amusing himself at the expense of an innocent stranger from a far country, I Held my peace, and let him have his way. He gave me a world of misinformation ; and the further he went, the wider his imagination expanded, and the more he enjoyed his cruel work of deceit. Sometimes, after palming off a particularly fantastic and outrageous lie upon me, he was so “ full of

330    DISINTERESTED HELP.

laugh ” that he had to step aside for a minute, upon one pretext or another, to keep me from suspecting. I staid faithfully by him until his comedy was finished. Then he remarked that he had undertaken to “ learn ” me all about a steamboat, and had done it; but that if he had overlooked

anything, just ask him and he would supply the lack. “ Anything about this boat that you don’t know the name of or the purpose of, you come to me and I ’11 tell you.” I said I would, and took my departure; disappeared, and approached him from another quarter, whence he could not see me. There he sat, all alone, doubling himself up and writhing this way and that, in the throes of unappeasable laughter. He must have made himself sick;

A WORLD OP MISINFORMATION.    f°r    lie    WaS    n°f

publicly visible afterward for several days. Meantime, the episode dropped out of my mind.

The thing that reminded me of it now, when I was alone at the wheel, was the spectacle of this young fellow standing

INJURED INNOCENCE.    331

in the pilot-house door, with the knob in his hand, silently and severely inspecting me. I don’t know when I have seen anybody look so injured as he did. He did not say anything. — simply stood there and looked; reproachfully looked and pondered. Finally he shut the door, and started away; halted on the texas a minute; came slowly back and stood in the door again, with.thatt grieved look in his face; gazed upon, me a while in. meek rebuke, then said: —

a You let me learn you all about a steamboat, did n't you?” “ Yes,” I confessed.

“ Yes, you did — did n't you ? ”

“ Yes.”

You are the feller that — that — ”

Language failed. Pause — impotent struggle for further words — then he gave it up, choked out a deep, strong oath, and departed for good. Afterward I saw him several times below during the trip; but he was cold — would not look at me. Idiot, if he had not been in such a sweat to play his witless practical joke upon me, in the beginning, I would have persuaded his thoughts into some other direction, and saved him from committing that wanton and silly impoliteness.

I had myself called with the four o’clock watch, mornings, for one cannot see too many summer sunrises on the Mississippi. They are enchanting. First, there is the eloquence of silence; for a deep hush broods everywhere. Next, there is the haunting sense of loneliness, isolation, remoteness from the worry and bustle of the world. The dawn creeps in stealthily; the solid walls of black forest soften to gray, and vast stretches of the river open up and reveal themselves; the water is glass-smooth, gives off spectral little wreaths of white mist, there is not the faintest breath of wind, nor stir of leaf; the tranquillity is profound and infinitely satisfying. Then a bird pipes up, another follows, and soon the pipings develop into a jubilant riot of music. You see none of the birds; you simply move through an atmosphere of song which, seems to sing itself. When the

332    A TRAGIC ACCIDENT.

light has become a little stronger, you have one of the fairest and softest pictures imaginable. You have the intense green of the massed and crowded foliage near by; you see it paling shade by shade in front of you; upon the next projecting cape, a mile off or more, the tint has lightened to the tender young green of spring; the cape beyond that one has almost lost color, and the furthest one, miles away under the hori-

zon, sleeps upon the water a mere dim vapor, and hardly separable from the sky above it and about it. And all this stretch of river is a mirror, and you have the shadowy reflections of the leafage and the curving shores and the receding capes pictured in it. Well, that is all beautiful; soft and rich and beautiful; and when the sun gets well up, and distributes a pink flush here and a powder of gold yonder

A FATAL BLOW.

and a purple haze where it will yield the best effect, you grant that you have seen something that is worth remembering.

We had the Kentucky Bend country in the early morning —scene of a strange and tragic accident in the old times. Captain Poe had a small stern-wheel boat, for years the home of himself and his wife. One night the boat struck a snag in the head of Kentucky Bend, and sank with astonishing suddenness ; water already well above the cabin floor when the captain got aft. So he cut into his wife’s stateroom from above with an axe; she was asleep in the upper berth, the


A PHOTOGRAPHIC ACCOUNT.    335

roof a flimsier one than was supposed; the first blow crashed down through the rotten boards and clove her skull.

This bend is all filled up now — result of a cut-off; and the same agent has taken the great and once much-frequented Walnut Bend, and set it away back in a solitude far from the accustomed track of passing steamers.

Helena we visited, and also a town I had not-heard of before, it being of recent birth — Arkansas City. It was born of a railway; the Little Rock, Mississippi River and Texas Railroad touches the river there. We asked a passenger who belonged there what sort of a place it was. “ Well,” said he, after considering, and with the air of one who wishes to take time and be accurate, “ It’s a hell of a place.” A description which was photographic for exactness. There were several rows and clusters of shabby frame-houses, and a supply of mud sufficient to insure the town against a famine in that article for a hundred years; for the overflow had but lately subsided. There were stagnant ponds in the streets, here and there, and a dozen rude scows were scattered about, lying aground wherever they happened to have been when the waters drained offi and people could do their visiting and shopping on foot once more. Still, it is a thriving place, with a rich country behind it, an elevator in front of it, and also a fine big mill for the manufacture of cotton-seed oil. I had never seen this kind of a mill before.

Cotton-seed was comparatively valueless in my time; but it is worth $12 or $13 a ton now, and none of it is thrown away. The oil made from it is colorless, tasteless, and almost if not entirety odorless. It is claimed that it can, by proper manipulation, be made to resemble and perform the office of any and all oils, and be produced at a cheaper rate than the cheapest of the originals. Sagacious people shipped it to Italy, doctored it, labelled it, and brought it back as olive oil. This trade grew to be so formidable that Italy was obliged to put a prohibitory impost upon it to keep it from working serious injury to her oil industry.

386    COLORED STYLE.

Helena occupies one of the prettiest situations on the Mississippi. ' Her perch is the last, the southernmost group of hills which one sees on that side of the river. In its normal condition it is a pretty town; but the flood (or possibly the seepage) had lately been ravaging it; whole, streets of houses had been invaded by the muddy water, and the outsides of the buildings were still belted with a broad stain extending upwards from the foundations. Stranded and discarded scows lay all about; plank sidewalks on stilts four feet high were still standing; the board sidewalks on the ground level were loose and ruinous,— a couple of men' trotting along them could make a blind man think a cavalry charge was coming; everywhere the mud was "black and deep, and in many places malarious pools of stagnant water were standing. A Mississippi inundation is the next most wasting and desolating infliction to a fire.

We had an enjoyable time here, on this sunny Sunday : two full hours’ liberty ashore while the boat discharged freight. In the back streets but few 'white, people were visible, but there vrere plenty of colored folk—mainly women and girls ; and almost without exception upholstered in bright new clothes of swell and elaborate style and cut — a glaring’ and hilarious contrast to the mournful mud and the pensive puddles.

Helena is the second town in Arkansas, in point of population — which is placed at five thousand. The country about it is exceptionally productive. Helena lias a good cotton trade; handles from forty to sixty thousand bales annually; she has a large lumber and grain commerce ; has a foundry, oil mills, machine shops and wagon factories — in brief has $1,000,000 invested in. manufacturing industries. She has two' railways, and is the commercial centre of a broad and prosperous region. Her gross receipts of money, annually, from all sources, are placed by the New Orleans “ Times-Democrat” at $4,000,000.

CHAPTER XXXI.

A THUMB-PRINT AND WHAT CAME OF IT.

E were approaching Napoleon, Arkansas. So I began

to think about my errand there. Time, noonday ; and bright and sunny. This was bad — not best, anyway ; for mine was not (preferably) a noonday kind of errand. The more I thought, the more that fact pushed itself upon

NAPOLEON IN 1871.

me — now in one form, now in another. Finally, it took the form of a distinct question : is it good common sense to do the errand in daytime, when, by a little sacrifice of comfort and inclination, you can have night for it, and no inquisitive eyes around ? This settled it. Plain question and plain answer make the shortest road out of most perplexities.

I got my friends into my stateroom, and said I was sorry to create annoyance and disappointment, but that upon reflection it really seemed best that we put our luggage ashore

838    A GRISLY PLACE.

and stop over at Napoleon. Their disapproval was prompt and loud; their language mutinous. Their main argument was one which has always been the first to come to the surface, in such cases, since the beginning of time: “But you decided and agreed to stick to this boat, etc.; ” as if, having determined to do an unwise thing, one is thereby bound to go ahead' and make two unwise things of it, by carrying out that determination.

I tried various mollifying tactics upon them, with reasonably good success : under which encouragement, I increased my efforts; and, to show them that/had not created this annoying errand, and was in no way to blame for it, I presently drifted into its history — substantially as follows :

Toward the end of last year, I spent a few months in Munich, Bavaria. In November I was living in Fraulein Dahlweiner’s pension, la, Karlstrasse; but my working quarters were a mile from there, in the house of a widow who supported herself by taking lodgers. She and her two young children used to drop in every morning and talk German to me — by request. One day, during a ramble about the city, I visited one of the two establishments where the Government keeps and watches corpses until the doctors decide that they are permanently dead, and not in a trance state. It was a grisly place, that spacious room. There were thirty-six corpses of adults in sight, stretched on their backs on slightly slanted boards, in three long rows — all of them with wax-white, rigid faces, and all of them wrapped in white shrouds. Along the sides of the room were deep alcoves, like bay windows ; and in each of these lay several marble-visaged babes, utterly hidden and buried under banks of fresh flowers, all but their faces and crossed hands. Around a finger of each of these fifty still forms, both great and small, was a ring; and from the ring a wire led to the ceiling, and thence to a bell in a watch-room yonder, where, day and night, a watchman sits always alert and ready to spring to the aid of any of that pallid company

THE DEATH BELL.    389

who, waking out of death, shall make a movement — for any even- the slightest movement will twitch the wire and ring that fearful bell. I imagined myself a deatli-sentinel drowsing there alone, far in the dragging watches of some wailing, gusty night, and having in a twinkling all my body stricken to quivering jelly by the sudden clamor of that awful summons! So I inquired about this thing; asked what resulted usually ? if the watchman died, and the restored corpse came and did what it could to> make his last moments easy ? But I was rebuked for trying to feed an idle and frivolous curiosity in so solemn and so mournful a place ; and went my way with a humbled crest.

. Next morning I was telling the widow my adventure, when she exclaimed —

“ Come with me ! I have a lodger who shall tell you all you want to know. He has been a night watchman there.”

He was a living man, but he did not look it. He was abed, and had his head propped high on pillows; his face was wasted and colorless, his deep-sunken eyes were shut; his hand, lying on his breast, was talon-like, it was so bony and long-fingered. The widow began her introduction of me. The man’s eyes opened slowly, and glittered wickedly out from the twilight of their caverns ; he frowned a black frown; he lifted his lean hand and waved us peremptorily away. But the widow kept straight on, till she had got out the fact that I was a stranger and an American. The man’s face changed at once; brightened, became even eager — and the next moment he and I were alone together.

I opened up in cast-iron German; he responded in quite flexible English; thereafter we gave the German language a permanent rest.

This consumptive and I became good friends. I visited him every day, and we talked about everything. At least, about everything but wives and children. Let anybody’s wife or anybody’s child be mentioned, and three things always followed: the most gracious and loving and tender

340    A CONFESSION.

light glimmered in the man’s eyes for a moment; faded out the next, and in its place came that deadly look which had flamed there the first time I ever saw his lids unclose • thirdly, he ceased from speech, there and then for that day • lay silent, abstracted, and absorbed; apparently heard nothing that I said; took no notice of my good-byes, and

THE man’s EYES OPENED SLOWLY.

plainly did not know, by either sight or hearing, when I left the room.

When I had been this Karl Ritter’s daily and sole intimate during two months, he one day said, abruptly, —

“ I will tell you my story.”

A DYING MAN’S CONFESSION.

Then he went on as follows : —

I have never given up, until now. But now I have given up. I am going to die. I made up my mind last night

BOUND AND GAGGED.    341

that it must be, and very soon, too. You say you are going to revisit your river, by and by, when you find opportunity. Very well; that, together with a certain strange experience which fell to my lot last night, determines me to tell you my history — for you will see Napoleon, Arkansas; and for my sake you will stop there, and do a certain thing for me — a thing which you will willingly undertake after you shall have heard my narrative.

Let us shorten the story wherever we can, for it will need it, being long. You already know how I came to go to America, and how I came to settle in that lonely region in the South. But you do not know that I had a wife. My wife was young, beautiful, loving, and oh, so divinely good and blameless and gentle! And our little girl was her mother in miniature. It was the happiest of happy households.

One night — it was toward the close of the war — I woke up out of a sodden lethargy, and found myself bound and gagged, and the air tainted with chloroform! 1' saw two men in the room, and one was saying to the other, in a hoarse whisper, “ I told her I would, if she made a noise, and as for the child — ”

The other man interrupted in a low, hall-crying voice — “You said we’d only gag them and rob them, not hurt them ; or I would n’t have come.”

“Shut up your whining; had to change the plan when they waked up; you done all you could to protect them, now let that satisfy }'ou ; come, help rummage.”

Both men were masked, and wore coarse, ragged “ nigger ” clothes; they had a bull’s-eye lantern, and by its light 1 noticed that the gentler robber had no thumb on his right hand. They rummaged around my poor cabin for a moment; the head bandit then said, in his stage whisper,—

“It’s a waste of time — he shall tell where it’s hid. Undo his gag, and revive him up.”

The other said —

“All right — provided no clubbing.”

342    THE BURGLARS ALARxMED.

“ No clubbing it is, then — provided he keeps still.”

They approached me; just then there was a sound outside ; a sound of voices and trampling hoofs; the robbers held their breath and listened; the sounds came slowly nearer and nearer; then came a shout —

Hello, the house! Show a light, we want water.”

back door, shutting they rummaged the cabin.    0ff    their    bull’s-eye

as they ran.

The strangers shouted several times more, then rode by — there seemed to be a dozen of the horses — and I heard nothing more.

I struggled, but could not free myself from my bonds. I tried to speak, but the gag was effective ; I could not make a sound. I listened for my wife’s voice and my child’s — listened long and intently, but no sound came from the other end of the room where their bed was. This silence became more and more awful, more and more ominous, every moment.

A SURE CLUE.    343

Could you have endured an hour of it, do' you think ? Pity me, then, who had to endure three. Three hours ? — it was three ages! Whenever the clock struck, it seemed as if years had gone by since I had heard it last. All this time I was struggling in my bonds ; and at last, about dawn, I got myself free, and rose up and stretched my stiff limbs. I was able to distinguish details pretty well. The floor was littered with things thrown there by the robbers during their search for my savings. The first object that caught my particular attention was a document of mine which I had seen the rougher of the two ruffians glance at and then cast away. It had blood on it! I staggered to the other end of the room. Oh, poor unoffending, helpless ones, there they lay, their troubles ended, mine begun!

Did I appeal to the law—I? Does it quench the pauper’s thirst if the King drink for him ? Oh, no, no, no — I wanted no impertinent interference of the law. Laws and the gallows could not pay the debt that was owing to me! Let the laws leave the matter in my hands, and have no fears: I would find the debtor and collect the debt. How accomplish this, do you say ? How accomplish.it, and feel so sure about it, when I had neither seen the robbers’ faces, nor heard their natural voices, nor had any idea who they might be ? Nevertheless, I was sure — quite sure, quite confident. I had a clue — a clue which you would not have valued — a clue which would not have greatly helped even a detective, since he would lack the secret of how to apply it. I shall come to that, presently — you shall see. Let us go on, now, taking things in their due order. There was one circumstance which gave me a slant in a definite direction to begin with :    Those    two robbers were manifestly soldiers in tramp

disguise; and not new to military service, but old in it — regulars, perhaps; they did not acquire their soldierly attitude, gestures, carriage, in a day, nor a month, nor yet in a year. So I thought, but said nothing. And one of them had said, “ the captain’s voice, by G —!” — the one whose

344    FOLLOWING THE CLUE.

life I would have. Two miles away, several regiments were in camp, and two companies of U. S. cavalry. When I learned that Captain Blakely, of Company C had passed our way, that night, with an escort, I said nothing, but in that company I resolved to seek my man. In conversation I studiously and persistently described the robbers as tramps, camp followers; and among this class the people made useless search, none suspecting the soldiers but me.

Working patiently, by night, in my desolated home, I made a disguise for myself out of various odds and ends of clothing; in the nearest village I bought a pair of blue goggles. By and by, when the military camp broke up, and Company C was ordered a hundred miles north, to Napoleon, I secreted my small hoard of money in my belt, and took my departure in the night. When Company C arrived in Napoleon, I was already there. Yes, I was there, with a new trade — fortune-teller. Not to seem partial, I made friends and told fortunes among all the companies garrisoned there ; but I gave Company C the great bulk of my attentions. I made myself limitlessly obliging to these particular men; they could ask me no favor, put upon me no risk, which I would decline. I became the willing butt of their jokes ; this perfected my popularity ; I became a favorite.

I early found a private who lacked a thumb — what joy it was to me! And when I found that he alone, of all the company, had lost a thumb, my last misgiving vanished; I was sure I was on the right track. This man’s name was Kruger, a German. There were nine Germans in the company. I watched, to see who might be his intimates ; but he seemed to have no especial intimates. But I was his intimate ; and I took care to make the intimacy grow. Sometimes I so hungered for my revenge that I could hardly restrain myself from going on my knees and begging him to point out the man who had murdered my wife and child; but I managed to bridle my tongue. I bided my time, and went on telling fortunes, as opportunity offered.

ON THE TRACK.    345

My apparatus was simple: a little red paint and a bit of white paper. I painted the ball of the client’s thumb,

took a print of it on the paper, studied it that night, and revealed his fortune to him next day.

What was my idea in this nonsense ? It was this :

When I was a youth, I knew an old Frenchman who had been a prison-keeper for thirty years, and

he told me that there was one on the right track. thing about a person which never

changed, from the cradle to the grave — the lines in the ball of the thumb; and he said that these lines were never exactly alike in the thumbs of any two human beings. In these days, we photograph the new criminal, and hang his

346    THUMB-MARKS.

picture in the Rogues’ Gallery for future reference; but that Frenchman, in his day, used to take a print of the ball of a new prisoner’s thumb and put that away for future reference. He always said that pictures were no good — future disguises could make them useless; “ The thumb’s the only sure thing,” said he; “ you can’t disguise that.” And he used to prove his theory, too, on my friends and acquaintances; it always succeeded.

I went on telling fortunes. Every night I shut myself in, all alone, and studied the day’s thumb-prints with a magnifying-glass. Imagine the devouring eagerness with which I pored over those mazy red spirals, with that document by my side which bore the right-hand thumb-and finger-marks of that unknown murderer, printed with the dear-

THUMB-PRINTS.

est blood — to me—that was ever shed on this earth! And many and many a time I had to repeat the same old disappointed remark, “ will they never correspond ! ”

But my reward came at last. It was the print of the thumb of the forty-third man of Company C whom I had experimented on — private Franz Adler. An hour before, I did not know the murderer’s name, or voice, or figure, or face, or nationality; but now I knew all these things! I believed I might feel sure; the Frenchman’s repeated demonstrations being so good a warranty. Still, there was a way to make sure. I had an impression of Kruger’s left thumb. In the morning I took him aside when he was off duty; and when we were out of sight and hearing of witnesses, I said, impressively: —

“A part of your fortune is so grave, that I thought it would be better for you if I did not tell it in public. You and another man, whose fortune I was studying last night,

CAUGHT AT LAST.    347

— private Adler, — have been murdering a woman and a child ! You are being dogged : within five days botli of you will be assassinated.”

He dropped on his knees, frightened out of his wits ; and for five minutes he kept pouring out the same set of words, like a demented person, and in the same half-crying way which was one of my memories of that murderous night in my cabin: —

“ I did n’t do it; upon my soul I did n’t do it; and I tried to keep him from doing it; I did, as God is my witness. He did it alone.”

This was all I wanted.

And I tried to get rid of •*-" the fool; but no, he clung to me, imploring me to save . him from the assassin. He said, —

“ I h a v e money — ten thousand dollars— hid away, the fruit of loot and thievery ; save me — tell me what to do, and you shall have it, every penny. Two thirds of it is my cousin Adler’s; but you can take it all. We hid it when wc first came here. But I hid it in a new place yesterday, and have not told him — shall not tell him. I was going to desert, and get away with it all. It is gold, and too heavy

848    THE TRAGEDY COMPLETED.

to carry when one is running and dodging; but a woman who has been gone over the river two days to prepare my way for me is going to follow, me with it; and if I got no chance to describe the hiding-place to her I was going to slip my silver watch into her hand, or send it to her, and she would understand. There ’s a piece of paper in the back of the case, which tells it all. Here, take the watch — tell me what to do ! ”

He was trying to press his watch upon me, and was exposing the paper and explaining it to me, when Adler appeared on the scene, about a dozen yards away. I said to poor Kruger: —

“ Put up your watch, I don’t want it. You shan’t come to any harm. Go, now; I must tell Adler his fortune. Presently I will tell you how to escape the assassin; meantime shall have to examine your thumb-mark again. Say nothing to Adler about this thing — ^ay nothing to anybody.”

He went away filled with fright and gratitude, poor devil. I told Adler a long fortune, — purposely so long that I could not finish it; promised to come to him on guard, that night, and tell him the really important part of it — the tragical part of it, I said, — so must be out of reach of eavesdroppers. They always kept a picket-watch outside the town, — mere discipline and ceremony, — no occasion for it, no enemy around.

Toward midnight I set out, equipped with the countersign, and picked my way toward the lonely region where Adler was to keep his watch. It was so dark that I stumbled right on a dim figure almost before I could get out a protecting word. The sentinel hailed and I answered, both at the same moment. I added, “ It’s only me — the fortuneteller.” Then I slipped to the poor devil’s side, and without a word I drove my dirk into his heart! Ja ivolil, laughed I, it was the tragedy part of his fortune, indeed! As he fell, from his horse, he clutched at me, and my blue goggles remained in his hand; and away plunged the beast dragging him, with his foot in the stirrup.

THE SOLACE FOB FLIGHT.    349

I fled through the woods, and made good my escape, leaving the accusing goggles behind me in that dead man’s hand.

THE TRAGEDY.

This was fifteen or sixteen years ago. Since then I have wandered aimlessly about the earth, sometimes at work, sometimes idle; sometimes with money, sometimes with none; but always tired of life, and wishing it was done, for my mission here was finished, with the act of that night; and the only pleasure, solace, satisfaction I had, in all those tedious years, was in the daily reflection, “I have killed him! ”

350    A STRANGE VOCATION.

Four years ago, my health began to fail. I had wandered into Munich, in my purposeless way. Being out of money, I sought work, and got it; did my duty faithfully about a year, and was then given the berth of night watchman yonder in that dead-house which you visited lately. The place suited my mood. I liked it. I liked being with the dead — liked

being alone with them. I used to wander among those rigid corpses, and peer into their austere faces, by the hour. The later the time, the more impressive it was; I preferred the late time. Sometimes I turned the lights low: this gave perspective, you see; and the in the morgue.    imagination

could play; always, the dim receding ranks of the dead inspired one with weird and fascinating fancies. Two years ago — I had been there a year then — I was sitting all alone in the watch-room, one gusty winter’s night, chilled, numb, comfortless ; drowsing gradually into unconsciousness ; the sobbing of the wind and. the slamming of distant shutters falling fainter and fainter upon my dulling ear each moment, when sharp and suddenly that dead-bell rang out a blood-curdling alarum over my

THE DEAD SPEAKS.    351

liead! The shock of it nearly paralyzed me; for it was the first time I had ever heard it.

I gathered myself together and flew to the corpse-room. About midway down the outside rank, a shrouded figure was sitting upright, wagging its head slowly from one side to the other — a grisly spectacle ! Its side was toward me. I hurried to it and peered into its face. Heavens, it was Adler!

Can you divine what my first thought was ? Put into words, it was this : “ It seems, then, you escaped me once : there will be a different result this time ! ”

Evidently this creature was suffering unimaginable terrors. Think what it must have been to wake up in the midst of that voiceless hush, and look out over that grim congregation of the dead! What gratitude shone in his skinny white face when he saw a living form before him! And how the fervency of this mute gratitude was augmented when his eyes fell upon the life-giving cordials which I carried in my hands ! Then imagine the horror which came into this pinched face when I put the cordials behind me, and said mockingly,—

“ Speak up, Franz Adler — call upon these dead. Doubtless they will listen and have pity; but here there is none else that will.”

He tried to speak, but that part of the shroud which bound his jaws, held firm and would not let him. He tried to lift imploring hands, but they were crossed upon his breast and tied. I said —

“ Shout, Franz Adler; make the sleepers in the distant streets hear you and bring help. Shout — and lose no time, for there is little to lose. What, you cannot ? That is a pity; but it is no matter — it does not always bring help. When you.and your cousin murdered a helpless woman and child in a cabin in Arkansas — my wife, it was, and my child ! — they shrieked for help, you remember ; but it did no good ; you remember that it did no good, is it not so ? Your teeth chatter — then why cannot you shout ? Loosen the bandages;

352    A SHROUDED VICTIM.

with your hands — then you can. Ah, I see — your hands are tied, they cannot aid you. How strangely things repeat themselves, after long years; for my hands were tied, that night, you remember ? Yes, tied much as yours are now—• how odd that is. I could not pull free. It did not occur to you to untie me; it does not occur to me to untie you.

Sli- ! there ’s a late footstep. It is coming this way.

Hark, how near it is ! One can count the footfalls — one — two — three. There — it is just outside. Now is the time ! Shout, man, shout! — it is the one sole chance between you and eternity! Ah, you see you have delayed too long — it is gone by. There — it is dying out. It is gone! Think of it — reflect upon it — you have heard a human footstep for the last time. How curious it must be, to listen to so common a sound as that, and know that one will never hear the fellow to it again.”

Oh, my friend, the agony in that shrouded face was ecstasy to see ! I thought of a new torture, and applied it — assisting myself with a trifle of lying invention : —

“ That poor Kruger tried to save my wife and child, and I did him a grateful good turn for it when the time came. I persuaded him to rob you; and I and a woman helped him to desert, and got him away in safety.”

A look as of surprise and triumph shone out dimly through the anguish in my victim’s face. I was disturbed, disquieted. I said —

“ What, then, — did n’t he escape ? ” <

A negative shake of the head.

“ No ? What happened, then ? ”

The satisfaction in the shrouded face was still plainer.. The man tried to mumble out some words — could not succeed ; tried to express something with his obstructed hands — failed ; paused a moment, then feebly tilted his head, in a meaning way, toward the corpse that lay nearest him.

“ Dead ? ” I asked. “ Failed to escape ? — caught in the act and shot ? ”

STRANGE SUGGESTIONS.    853

Negative shake of the head.

“ How, then ? ”

Again the man tried to do something with his hands. I watched closely, but could not guess the intent. I bent over

I SAT DOWN BY HIM.

and watched still more intently. He had twisted a thumb around and was weakly punching at his breast with it.

“ Ah — stabbed, do you mean ? ”

Affirmative nod, accompanied by a spectral smile of such peculiar devilishness, that it struck an awakening light through my dull brain, and I cried —

“ Did I stab him, mistaking him for you ? — for that stroke was meant for none but you.”

The affirmative nod of the re-dying rascal was as joyous as his failing strength was able to put into its expression.

354    A LONG TIME DYING.'.

“ 0, miserable, miserable me, to slaughter the pitying soul that stood a friend to my darlings when they were helpless, and would haye saved them if he could! miserable, oh, miserable, miserable me! ”

I fancied I heard the muffled gurgle of a mocking laugh. I took my face out of my hands, and saw my enemy sinking back upon his inclined board.*

He was a satisfactory long time dying. H6 had a wonderful vitality, an astonishing constitution. Yes, he was a pleasant long time at it. I got a chair and a newspaper, and sat down by him and read. Occasionally I took a, sip of brandy. This was necessary, on account of the cold. But I did it partly because I saw, that along at first, whenever I reached for the bottle, he thought I was going to give him some. I read aloud: mainly imaginary accounts of people snatched from the grave’s threshold and restored to life and vigor by a few spoonsful of liquor and a warm bath. Yes, he had a long, hard death of it — three hours and six minutes, from the time he rang his bell.

It is believed that in all these eighteen years that have elapsed since the institution of the corpse-watch, no shrouded occupant of the Bavarian dead-houses has ever rung its bell. Well, it is a harmless belief. Let it stand at that.

The chill of that death-room had penetrated my bones. It revived and fastened upon me the disease which had been afflicting me, but which, up to that night, had been steadily disappearing. That man murdered my wife and my child ; and in three days hence he will have added me to his list. No matter — God! how delicious the memory of it! — I caught him escaping from his grave, and thrust him back into it!

After that night, I was confined to my bed for a week; but as soon as I could- get about, I went to the dead-house books and got the number of the house which Adler had died in. A wretched lodging-house, it was. It was my idea that he would naturally have gotten hold of Kruger’s effects, being

TRACING THE WATCH.    355

his cousin; and I wanted to get Kruger’s watch, if I could. But while I was sick, Adler’s things had been sold and scattered, all except a few old letters, and some odds and ends of no value. However, through those letters, I traced out a son of Kruger’s, the only relative he left. He is a man of thirty, now, a shoemaker by trade, and living at No. 14 Konigstrasse, Mannheim—widower, with several small children. Without explaining to him why, I have furnished two thirds of his support, ever since.

Now, as to that watch — see how strangely things happen ! I traced it around and about Germany for more than a year, at considerable cost in money and vexation; and at last I got it. Got it, and was unspeakably glad; opened it, and found nothing in it! Why, I might have known that that bit of paper was not going to stay there all this time. Of course I gave up that ten thousand dollars then; gave it up, and dropped it out of my mind : and most sorrowfully, for I had wanted it for Kruger’s son.

Last night, when I consented at last that 1 must die, I began to make ready. I proceeded to burn all useless papers; and sure enough, from a batch of Adler’s, not previously examined with thoroughness, out dropped that long-desired scrap ! I recognized it in a moment. Here it is — I will translate it:

“ Brick livery stable, stone foundation, middle of town, corner of Orleans and Market. Corner toward Court-house. Third stone, fourth row. Stick notice there, saying how many are to come.”

There — take it, and preserve it. Kruger explained that that stone was removable ; and that it was in the north wall of the foundation, fourth row from the top, and third stone from the west. The money is secreted behind it. He said the closing sentence was a blind, to mislead in case the paper should fall into wrong hands. It probably performed that office for Adler.

Now I want to beg that when you make your intended

I

A SACRED ERRAND.

356

journey down the river, you will hunt out that hidden money, and send it to Adam Kruger, care of the Mannheim address which I have mentioned. It will make a rich man of him, and I shall sleep the sounder in my grave for knowing that I have done what I could for the son of the man who tried to save my wife and child — albeit my hand ignorantly struck him down, whereas the impulse of my heart would have been

to shield and serve him.

CHAPTER XXXII.

THE DISPOSAL OF A BONANZA’

SUCH was Ritter’s narrative,” said I to my two friends. There was a profound and impressive silence, which lasted a considerable time; then both men broke into a fusillade of excited and admiring ejaculations over the strange incidents of the tale; and this, along with a rattling fire of questions, was kept up until all hands were about out of breath. Then my friends began to cool down, and draw off, under shelter of occasional volleys, into silence and abysmal reverie. For ten minutes now, there was stillness. Then Rogers said dreamily : —

“ Ten thousand dollars.”

Adding, after a considerable pause, —

“ Ten thousand. It is a heap of money.”

Presently the poet inquired, —

“ Are you going to send it to him right away ? ”

“ Yes,” I said. “ It is a queer question.”

No reply. After a little, Rogers asked, hesitatingly:

All of it ? — That is — I mean —”

Certainly, all of it.”

I was going to say more, but stopped, —was stopped by a train of thought which started up in me. Thompson spoke, but my mind was absent and I did not catch what he said. But I heard Rogers answer, —

“Yes, it seems so to me. It ought to be quite sufficient; for I don’t see that he has done anything.”

Presently the poet said,—

“ When you come to look at it, it is more than sufficient.

358    DISCUSSION BEGINS.

Just look at it — five thousand dollars ! Why, he could n’t spend it in a lifetime ! And it would injure him, too ; perhaps ruin him — you want to look at that. In a little while he would throw his last away, shut up his shop, maybe take to

WE BEGAN TO COOL OFF.

drinking, maltreat his motherless children, drift into other evil courses, go steadily from bad to worse — ”

u Yes, that’s it,” interrupted Rogers, fervently, u I ’ve seen it a hundred times — yes, more than a hundred. You put money into the hands of a man like that, if you want to destroy him, that’s all; just put money into his hands, it’s all

POVERTY IS BLISS.    359

you ’ve got to do ; and if it don’t pull him down, and take all the usefulness out of him, and all the self-respect and everything, then I don’t know human nature — ain’t that so, Thompson ? And even if we were to give him a third of it; why, in less than six months — ”

“ Less than six weeks, you’d better say ! ” said 1, warming up and breaking in. “Unless he had that three thousand

dollars in safe hands where he couldn’t touch it, he would no more last you six weeks than -— ”

“ Of course he would n’t,” said Thompson ; “ I’ve edited books for that kind of people ; and the moment they get their hands on the royalty— maybe it’s three thousand, maybe it’s two thousand—”

“ What business has that shoema-^ ker with two thousand dollars, I should like to know?” broke in Rogers, earnestly. “A man perhaps perfectly contented now, there in Mannheim, surrounded by his own class, eating his bread with the appetite which laborious industry alone can give, enjoying his humble life, honest, upright, pure in heart; and blest ! — yes, I say blest! blest above all the myriads that go in silk attire and walk the empty artificial round of social folly — but just you put that temptation before him once! just you

360    RICHES ARE RUIN.

lay fifteen hundred dollars before a man like that, and say — ”

“ Fifteen hundred devils!” cried I, “jfive hundred would rot his principles, paralyze his industry, drag him to the rumshop, thence to the gutter, thence to the almshouse, thence to — ”

Why put upon ourselves this crime, gentlemen?” interrupted the poet earnestly and appealingly. “He is happy where he is, and as he is. Every sentiment of honor, every

sentiment of charity, every sentiment of high and sacred benevolence warns us, beseeches us, commands us to leave him undisturbed. That is real friendship, that is true friendship. We could follow other courses that would be more showy; but none that would be so truly kind and wise, depend upon it.”

“ HE IS HAPPY WHERE HE IS.”

After some further talk, it became evident that each of us, down in his heart, felt some misgivings over this settlement of the matter. It was manifest that we all felt that we ought to send the poor shoemaker something. There was long and thoughtful discussion of this point; and we finally decided to send him a chromo.

Well, now that everything seemed to be arranged satisfactorily to everybody concerned, a new trouble broke out: it transpired that these two men were expecting to share equally in the money with me. That was not my idea. I said that if they got half of it between them they might consider themselves lucky. Rogers said : —

CLIMAX OF THE DISCUSSION.    361

“ Who would have had any if it had n’t been for me ? I flung out the first hint — but for that it would all have gone to the shoemaker.”

Thompson said that he was thinking of the thing himself at the very moment that Rogers had originally spoken.

I retorted that the idea would have occurred to me plenty soon enough, and without anybody’s help. I was slow about thinking, maybe, but I was sure.

This matter warmed up into a quarrel; then into a fight; and each man got pretty badly battered. As soon as I had

warm’ed up into a quarrel.

got myself mended up after a fashion, I ascended to the hurricane deck in a pretty sour humor. I found Captain McCord there, and said, as pleasantly as my humor would permit: — “ I have come to say good-bye, captain. I wish to go ashore at Napoleon.”

362    WHERE IS NAPOLEON?

“ Go ashore where ? ”

“Napoleon.”

The captain laughed ; but seeing that I was not in a jovial mood, stopped that and said, —

“ But are you serious ? ”

“ Serious ? I certainly am.”

The captain glanced up at the pilot-house and said, —

“ He wants to get off at Napoleon! ”

Napoleon?u That’s what he says.”

“ Great Caesar’s ghost! ”

Uncle Mumford approached along the deck. The captain said, —

“ Uncle, here’s a friend of yours wants to get off at Napoleon! ”

•“ Well, by — !”

I said, —

“ Come, what is all this about ? Can’t a man go ashore at Napoleon if he wants to ? ”

“ Why, hang it, don’t you know ? There is n't any Napoleon any more. Has n’t been for years and years. The Arkansas River burst through it, tore it all to rags, and emptied it into the Mississippi! ”

“ Carried the whole town away ? —banks, churches, jails, newspaper-offices, court-house, theatre, fire department, livery stable, — everything ?

“ Everything. Just a fifteen-minute job, or such a matter. Did n’t leave hide nor hair, shred nor shingle of it, except the fag-end of a shanty and one brick chimney. This boat is paddling along right now, where th*e dead-centre of that town used to be; yonder is the brick chimney, — all that’s left of Napoleon. These dense woods on the right used to be a mile back of the town. Take a look behind you —-up-stream — now you begin to recognize this country, don’t you ?”

“ Yes, I do recognize it now. It is the most wonderful

GONE TO FIND THE WOODBINE.    363

thing I ever heard of; by a long shot the most wonderful — and unexpected.”

Mr. Thompson and Mr. Rogers had arrived, meantime, with satchels and umbrellas, and had silently listened to the captain’s news. Thompson put a half-dollar in my hand and said softly: —

“ For my share of the chromo.”

Rogers followed suit.


Yes, it was an astonishing thing to see the Mississippi rolling between unpeopled shores and straight over

the spot where I used to see a good big self-complacent town twenty years ago. Town that was county-seat of a great and important county; town with a big United States marine hospital; town of innumerable fights — an inquest every day; town where I had used to know the prettiest girl, and the most accomplished in the whole Mississippi Valley; town where we were handed the first printed news of the “ Pennsylvania’s” mournful disaster a quarter of a century ago; a town no more — swallowed up, vanished, gone to feed the fishes ; nothing left but a fragment of a shanty and a crumbling brick chimney!

CHAPTER XXXIII.

REFRESHMENTS AND ETHICS.

IN regard to Island 74, which is situated not far from the former Napoleon, a freak of the river here has sorely perplexed the laws of men and made them a vanity and a jest. When the State of Arkansas was chartered, she controlled “ to the centre of the river ” — a most unstable line. The State of Mississippi claimed “ to the channel ” — another shifty and unstable line. No. 74 belonged to Arkansas. By and by a cut-off threw this big island out of Arkansas, and yet not within Mississippi. “ Middle of the river ” on one side of it, “ channel ” on the other. That is as I understand the problem. Whether I have got the details right or wrong, this fact remains : that here is this big and exceedingly valuable island of four thousand acres, thrust out in the cold, and belonging to neither the one State nor the other; paying taxes to neither, owing allegiance to neither. One man owns the whole island, and of right is “ the man without a country.”

Island 92 belongs to Arkansas. The river moved it over and joined it to Mississippi. A chap established a whiskey shop there, without a Mississippi license, and enriched himself upon Mississippi custom under Arkansas protection (where no license was in those days required).

We glided steadily down the fiver in the usual privacy — steamboat or other moving thing seldom seen. Scenery as always: stretch upon stretch of almost unbroken forest, on both sides of the river ; soundless solitude. Here and there

TRANSITION STATES.    365

a cabin or two, standing in small openings on the gray and grassless banks — cabins which had formerly stood a quarter or half-mile farther to the front, and gradually been pulled farther and farther back as the shores caved in. As at Pilcher’s Point, for instance, where the cabins had been moved back three hundred yards in three months, so we were told; but the caving banks had already caught up with them, and they were being conveyed rearward once more.

Napoleon had but small opinion of Greenville, Mississippi, in the old times; but behold, Napoleon is gone to the cat-

CAVING BANKS.

fishes, and here is Greenville full of life and activity, and making a considerable flourish in the Valley; having three thousand inhabitants, it is said, and doing a gross trade of 12,500,000 annually. A growing town.

There was much talk on the boat about the Calhoun Land Company, an enterprise which is expected to work whole-

366    SYNDICATES AND SETTLEMENTS.

some results. Colonel Calhoun, a grandson of the statesman, went to Boston and formed a syndicate which purchased a large tract of land on the river, in Chicot County, Arkansas, — some ten thousand acres—for cotton-growing. The purpose is to work on a cash basis: buy at first hands, and handle their own product; supply their negro laborers with provisions and necessaries at a trifling profit, say 8 or 10 per cent; furnish them comfortable quarters, etc., and encourage them to save money and remain on the place. If this proves a financial success, as seems quite certain, they propose to establish a banking-house in Greenville, and lend money at an unburdensome rate of interest — 6 per cent is spoken of.

The trouble heretofore has been — I am quoting remarks of planters and steamboatmen — that the planters, although owning the land', were without cash capital; had to hypothecate both land and crop to carry on the business. Consequently, the commission dealer who furnishes the money takes some risk and demands big interest —: usually 10 per cent, and 2£ per cent for negotiating the loan. The planter has also to buy his supplies through the same dealer, paying commissions and profits. Then when he ships his crop, the dealer adds his commissions, insurance, etc.> So, taking it by and large, and first and last, the dealer’s share of that crop is about 25 per cent.1

A cotton-planter’s estimate of the average margin of profit on planting, in his section: One man and mule will raise ten acres of cotton, giving ten bales cotton, worth, say, $500; cost of producing, say $350 ; net profit, $150, or $15 per acre. There is also a profit now from the cotton-seed, which formerly had little value — none where much transportation

1

“ But what can the State do where the people are under subjection to rates of interest ranging from 18 to 30 per cent, and are also under the neces-' sity of purchasing their crops in advance even of planting, at these rates, for the privilege of purchasing all their supplies at 100 per cent profit 1 ” —Edward :Atkinson.

COMMISSION DEALERS.    367

wds necessary. In sixteen hundred pounds crude cotton, four hundred are lint, worth, say, ten cents a pound; and twelve hundred pounds of seed, worth $12 or $13 per ton. Maybe in future even the stems will not be thrown away. Mr. Edward Atkinson says that for each bale of cotton there are fifteen hundred pounds of stems, and that these are very rich in phosphate of lime and potash; that when ground and mixed with ensilage or cotton - seed meal (which is too rich for use as fodder in large quantities), the stem mixture makes a superior food, rich in all the elements needed for the production of milk, meat, and bone. Heretofore the stems have been considered a nuisance.

Complaint is made that the planter remains grouty toward the former slave, since the war; will have nothing but a chill business relation with him, no sentiment permitted to intrude ; will not keep a “ store ” himself, and supply the negro’s wants and thus protect the negro’s pocket and make him able and willing to stay on the place and an advantage to him to do it, but lets that privilege to some thrifty Israelite, who encourages the thoughtless negro and wife to buy

368    ISRAELITES AND NEGROES.

all sorts of things which they could do without, — buy on credit, at big prices, month after month, credit based on the negro’s share of the growing crop; and at the end of the season, the negro’s share belongs to the Israelite, the negro is in debt besides, is discouraged, dissatisfied, restless, and

migrate, and the    the    iskaelite.

planter must get

a stranger in his place who does not know him, does not care for him, will fatten the Israelite a season, and follow his predecessor per steamboat.

It is hoped that the Calhoun Company will show, by its humane and protective treatment of its laborers, that its. method is the most profitable for both planter and negro; and it is believed that a general adoption of that method will then follow.

THE BARKEEPER TESTIFIES.    369

And where so many are saying their say, shall not the barkeeper testify? He is thoughtful, observant, never drinks;

endeavors to earn his salary, and would earn it if there were custom enough. He says the people along here in Mississippi and Louisiana will send up the river to buy vegetables rather than raise them, and they will come aboard at the landings and buy fruits of the barkeeper. Thinks they “ don’t know anything but cotton; ” believes they don’t know how' to raise vegetables and fruit — “ at least the most of them.” Says “ a nigger will go to H for a watermelon” (“H” is all I find in the stenographer’s report—means Halifax probably, though that seems a good way to go for a watermelon). Barkeeper buys watermelons for five cents up the river, brings them down and sells them for -fifty. “ Why does he mix such elaborate and picturesque drinks for the nigger hands on the boat ? ” Because they won’t have any other. “They want a big drink; don’t make any difference what you make it of, they want the worth of their money. You give a nigger a plain gill of half-a-dollar brandy for five cents —will he touch it ? No. Ain’t size enough to it. But you put up a pint of all kinds of worthless rubbish, and heave in some red stuff to make it beautiful—red’s the main thing—and he wouldn’t put down that glass to go to 24

THE BARKEEPER.

870    BIG DRINKS WANTED.

a circus.” All the bars on this Anchor Line are rented and owned by one firm. They furnish the liquors from their

own establishment, and hire the barkeepers “on salary.” G-ood liquors? Yes, on some of the boats, where there are the kind of passengers that want it and can pay for it. On the other boats ? No. Nobody but the deck hands and firemen to drink it. “ Brandy ? Yes, I’ve got brandy, plenty of it; but you don’t want any of it unless you’ve made your will.” It isn’t as it used to be in the old times. Then everybody travelled by steamboat, everybody drank, and everybody treated everybody else. “ Now most everybody goes by railroad, and the rest don’t drink.” In the old times, the barkeeper owned the bar himself, “ and was gay and smarty and talky and all jewelled up, and was the toniest aristocrat on the boat; used to make $2,000 on a trip. A father who left

A PLAIN GILL.

TONY ARISTOCRATS.    371

his son a steamboat bar, left him a fortune. Now he leaves him board and lodging; yes, and washing, if a shirt a trip will do. Yes, indeedy, times are changed. Why, do you know, on the principal line of boats on the Upper Missis- '

sippi, they don’t have any bar at all! Sounds like poetry, but it’s the petrified truth.”

CHAPTER XXXIV.

TOUGH YARNS.

STACK ISLAND. I remembered Stack Island; also Lake Providence, Louisiana — which is the first distinctly Southern-looking town you come to, downward-bound ; lies level and low, shade-trees hung with venerable gray beards of Spanish moss; “ restful, pensive, Sunday aspect about the place,” comments Uncle Mumford, with feeling—also with truth.

A Mr. H. furnished some minor details of fact concerning this region which I would have hesitated to believe if I had not known him to be a steamboat mate. He was a passenger of ours, a resident of Arkansas City, and bound to Vicksburg to join his boat, a little Sunflower packet. He was an austere man, and had the reputation of being singularly unworldly, for a river man. Among other things, he said that Arkansas had been injured and kept back by generations of exaggerations concerning the mosquitoes there. One may smile? said he, and turn the matter off as being a small thing; but when you come to look at the effects produced, in the way of discouragement of immigration, and diminished values of property, it was quite the opposite of a small thing, or thing in any wise to be coughed down or sneered at. These mos-

MOSQUITOES.

MOSQUITO COUNTRIES.    373

quitoes had been persistently represented as being formidable and lawless; whereas “ the truth is, they are feeble, insignificant in size, diffident to a fault, sensitive ” — and so on, and so on; you would have supposed he was talking about his family. But if he was soft on the Arkansas mosquitoes, he was hard enough on the mosquitoes of Lake Providence to make up for it — “ those Lake Providence colossi,” as he finely called them. He said that two of them could whip a dog, and that four of them could hold a man down; and except help come, they would kill him — “ butcher him,” as he expressed it. Referred in a sort of casual way -— and yet significant way — to “ the fact that the life policy in its simplest form is unknown in Lake Providence —they take out a mosquito policy besides.” He told many remarkable things about those lawless insects.

Among others, said he had seen them try to vote. Noticing that this statement seemed to be a good deal of a strain 011 us, he modified it a little: said he might have been mistaken, as to that particular, but knew he had seen them around the polls “ canvassing.”

There was another passenger — friend of H.’s — who backed up the harsh evidence against those mosquitoes, and detailed some stirring adventures which he had had with them. The stories were pretty sizable, merely

374    FROZEN TRUTH.

pretty sizable; yet Mr. H. was continually interrupting with a cold, inexorable “ Wait — knock off twenty-five per cent of that; now go on;” or, “Wait — you are getting that too strong; cut it down, cut it down — you get a leetle too much costumery on to your statements: always dress a fact in tights, never in an ulster ; ” or, “ Pardon, once more: if you are going to load anything more on to that statement, you want to get a couple of lighters and tow the rest, because it’s drawing all the water there is in the river already ; stick to facts — just stick to the cold facts ; what these gentlemen want for a book is the frozen truth — ain’t that so, gentlemen ? ” He explained privately that it was necessary to watch this man all the time, and keep him within bounds ; it would not do to neglect this precaution, as he, Mr. H., “knew to his sorrow.” Said he, “ I will not deceive you; he told me such a monstrous lie once, that it swelled my left ear up, and spread it so that I was actually not able to see out around it; it remained so for months, and people came miles to see me fan myself with it.”

CHAPTER XXXV.

VICKSBURG DURING THE TROUBLE.

WE used to plough past the lofty hill-city, Vicksburg, down-stream; but we cannot do that now. A cutoff has made a country town of it, like Osceola, St. Genevieve, and several others. There is currentless water —

also a big


come up io the town; that is, in high water: in low water you can’t come vicksbukg.    up,    but    must    land    some

distance below it.

Signs and scars still remain, as reminders of Vicksburg’s tremendous war-experiences; earthworks, trees crippled by the cannon balls, cave-refuges in the clay precipices, etc. The caves did good service during the six weeks’ bom-

376    BAT TLE-S CARS REMAIN.

bardment of the city — May 18 to July 4,1868. They were used by the non-combatants — mainly by the women and children; not to live in constantly, but to fly to for safety on occasion. They were mere holes, tunnels, driven into the perpendicular clay bank, then branched Y shape, within the hill. Life in Vicksburg, during the six weeks was perhaps — but wait; here are some materials out of which to reproduce it: —

Population, twenty-seven thousand soldiers and three thousand non-combatants; the city utterly cut off from the world — walled solidly in, the frontage by gunboats, the rear by soldiers and batteries; hence, no buying and selling with the outside; no passing to and fro ; no God-speeding a parting guest, no welcoming a coming one; no printed acres of world-wide news to be read at breakfast, mornings

— a tedious dull absence of such matter, instead; hence,' also, no running to see steamboats smoking into view in the distance up or down, and ploughing toward the town

— for none came, the river lay vacant and undisturbed ; no rush and turmoil around the railway station, no struggling over bewildered swarms of passengers by noisy mobs of hackmen — all quiet there; flour two hundred dollars a barrel, sugar thirty, corn ten dollars a bushel, bacon five dollars a pound, rum a hundred dollars a gallon; other things in proportion: consequently, no roar and racket of drays and carriages tearing along the streets; nothing for them to do, among that handful of non-combatants of exhausted means; at three o’clock in the morning, silence; silence so dead that the measured tramp of a sentinel can be heard a seemingly impossible distance; out of hearing of this lonely sound, perhaps the- stillness is absolute: all in a moment come ground-shaking thunder-crashes of artillery, the sky is cobwebbed with the cris-crossing red lines streaming from soaring bomb-shells, and a rain of iron fragments descends upon the city; descends upon the empty streets: streets which are not empty a moment

AN AWFUL QUIET.    377

later, but mottled with dim figures of frantic women and children skurrying from home and bed toward the cave dungeons — encouraged by the humorous grim soldiery, who shout “ Rats, to your holes! ” and laugh.

The cannon-thunder rages, shells scream and crash overhead, the iron rain pours down, one hour, two hours, three,

THE RIVER WAS UNDISTURBED.

possibly six, then stops ; silence follows, but the streets are still empty; the silence continues; by and by a head projects from a cave here and there and yonder, and reconnoitres, cautiously ; the silence still continuing, bodies follow heads, and jaded, half-smothered creatures group themselves about, stretch their cramped limbs, draw in deep draughts of the grateful fresh air, gossip with the neighbors from the next

378    LIVING UNDER FIRE.

cave; maybe straggle off home presently, or take a lounge through the town, if the stillness continues; and will skurry

THE CAVE DWELLERS.

to the holes again, by and by, when the war-tempest breaks forth once more.

There being but three thousand of these cave-dwellers — merely the population of a village — would they not come to

NON-COMBATANTS IN WAR    879

know each other, after a week or two, and familiarly; insomuch that the fortunate or unfortunate experiences of one would be of interest to all ?

Those are the materials furnished by history. From them might not almost anybody reproduce for himself the life of that time in Yicksburg ? Could you, who did not experience it, come nearer to reproducing it to the imagination of another non-participant than could a Yicksburger who did experience it ? It seems impossible ; and yet there are reasons why it might not really be. When one makes his first voyage in a ship, it is an experience which multitudinously bristles with striking novelties ; novelties which are in such sharp contrast with all this person’s former experiences that they take a seemingly deathless grip upon his imagination and memory. By tongue or pen he can make a landsman live that strange and stirring voyage over with him; make him see it all and feel it all. But if he wait ? If he make ten voyages in succession — what then? Why, the thing has lost color, snap, surprise; and has become commonplace. The man would have nothing to tell that would quicken a landsman’s pulse.

Years ago, I talked with a couple of the Yicksburg non-combatants — a man and his wife. Left to tell their story in their own way, those people told it without fire, almost without interest.

A week of their wonderful life there would have made their tongues eloquent forever perhaps; but they had six weeks of it, and that wore the novelty all out; they got used to being bomb-shelled out of home and into the ground; the matter became commonplace. After that, the possibility of their ever being startlingly interesting in their talks about it was gone. What the man said was to' this effect: —•

“ It got to be Sunday all the time. Seven Sundays in the week— to us, anyway. We had n’t anything to do, and time hung heavy.

380    AN IRON STORM.

Seven Sundays, and all of them broken up at one time or another, in the day or in the night, by a few hours of the awful storm of fire and thunder and iron. At first we used to shin for the holes a good deal faster than we did afterwards. The first time, I forgot the children, and Maria fetched them both along. When she was all safe

in the cave she fainted. Two or three weeks afterwards, when she was running for the holes, one morning, through a shell-showei', a big shell burst near her and covered her all over with dirt, and a piece of the iron carried away her game-bag of false hair from the back of her head. Well, she stopped to get that game-bag before she shoved along again ! Was getting used to things already, you see. We all got so that we could tell a good deal about shells; and after that we did n’t always go under shelter if it was a light shower. IJs men would loaf around and talk ; and a man would say, There she goes! ’ and name the kind of shell it was from the sound of it,

WHERE WILL IT LIGHT?    381

and go on talking — if there was n’t any danger from it. If a shell was bursting close over us, we stopped talking and stood still; — uncomfortable, yes, but it was n’t safe to move. When it let go, we went on talking again, if nobody hurt — maybe saying, ‘ That was a ripper ! ’ or some such commonplace comment before we resumed ; or, maybe, we would see a shell poising itself away high in the air overhead. In that case, every fellow just whipped out a sudden, ‘ See you again, gents! ’ and shoved. Often and often I saw gangs of ladies promenading the streets, looking as cheerful as you please, and keeping an eye canted up watching the shells; and I’ve seen them stop still when they were uncertain about what a shell was going to do, and wait and make certain; and after that they s’antered along again, or lit out for sh.elter, according to the verdict. Streets in some towns have a litter of pieces of paper, and odds and ends of one sort or another lying around.

WAIT AND MAKE CERTAIN.

Ours had n’t; they had

iron litter. Sometimes a man would gather up all the iron fragments and unbursted shells in his neighborhood, and pile them into a kind of monument in his front yard — a ton of it, sometimes. No glass

382    CAVES AND WHISKEY.

left; glass could n’t stand such a bombardment; it was all shivered out. Windows of the houses vacant—looked like eye-holes in a skull. Whole panes were as scarce as news.

“We had church Sundays. Not many there, along at first; but by and by pretty good turnouts. I’ve seen service stop a minute, and everybody sit quiet — no voice heard, pretty funeral-like then — and all the more so on account of the awful boom and crash going on outside and overhead; and pretty soon, when a body could be heard, service would go on again. Organs and church-music mixed up with a bombardment is a powerful queer combination — along at first. Coming out of church, one morning, we had an accident — the only one that happened around me on a Sunday. I was just having a hearty hand-shake with a friend I had n’t seen for a while, and saying, ‘ Drop into our cave to-night, after bombardment; we’ve got hold of a pint of prime wh —. ’ Whiskey, I was going to say, you know, but a shell interrupted. A chunk of it cut the man’s arm off, and left it dangling in my hand. And do you know the thing that is going to stick the longest in my memory, and outlast everything else, little and big, I reckon, is the mean thought I had then? It was ‘the whiskey is saved’ And yet, don’t you know, it was kind of excusable; because it was as scarce as diamonds, and we had only just that little ; never had another taste during the siege.

“Sometimes the caves were desperately crowded, and always hot and close. Sometimes a cave had twenty or twenty-five people packed into it; no turning-room for anybody; air so foul, sometimes, you could n’t have made a candle burn in it. A child was born in one of those caves one night. Think of that; why, it was like having it born in a trunk.

“ Twice we had sixteen people in our cave; and a number of times we had a dozen. Pretty suffocating in there. We always had eight; eight belonged there. Hunger and misery and sickness and fright and sorrow, and I don’t know what all, got so loaded into them that none of them were ever rightly their old selves after the siege. They all died but three of us within a couple of years. One night a shell burst in front of the hole and caved it in and stopped it up. It was lively times, for a while, digging out. Some of us came near smothering. After that we made two openings — ought to have thought of it at first.

MULE MEAT IS GOOD.    388

“ Mule meat ? No, we only got down to that the last day or two. Of course it was good; anything is good when you are starving.”

This man had kept a diary during — six weeks ? No, only the first six days. The first day, eight close pages ; the second, five; the third, one — loosely written; the fourth, three or four lines ; a line or two the fifth and sixth days; seventh day, diary abandoned ; life in terrific Vicksburg having now become commonplace and matter of course.

“mule