When the great steamboat race came off between the _Natchez_ and
the _Robert E. Lee_, the excitement all along the Mississippi River,
and at St. Louis, New Orleans, and all the river towns, was at
fever heat. Betting ran high, a great deal of money changed hands,
and very little else was talked about for a long time. I came to
the conclusion that the boats were pretty evenly matched, but
thought that the _Natchez_ ought to beat in a straight run. I knew
the _Lee_ could make two landings to the _Natchez_ one, the latter
boat being somewhat top-heavy and difficult to handle. However,
I put my money on her, and believe she would have won had not
Captain Canon out-generaled and out-managed Captain Leathers.
Captain Canon took off every extra pound of freight, including
anchors, chains, beds, and bedding, even taking the doors and
shutters off the hinges; while the hold and decks he saved to be
filled with dry pine knots. Besides, he engaged the steamer
_Paragoad_ to go up above Baton Rouge, loaded down with the choicest
of fuel. The _Paragoad_ was a very fast boat; and when Baton Rouge
was reached, the _Lee_ never stopped her engines, only slackened
her speed a little, while the _Paragoad_ lay alongside and dumped
the fuel on to the _Lee_. The _Natchez_ had to land and take a
coal-boat in tow, and by this management made a difference of over
three hours. This gave the _Lee_ a start of perhaps five hours,
as when she did land it was for a moment only. The _Natchez_ kept
everything on board, and caught all the winds, while they whistled
through the _Lee_.
On the day of the race the excitement was so great in New Orleans
that when the _Mayflower_ advertised to take people up about twenty
miles to see the fun, it was not long before she was loaded to her
gunwales with all the young bloods of the Crescent City. A jollier
set of fellows never got together; and as money was plenty, they
made the wine fly with a whirl. I hunted up old Bill and Dad Ryan,
and made up my mind we would tackle the gentry and given them
something to spend their money for. Bill opened up, and the young
sprigs of the aristocracy began to pile up the bills, which Bill
was not slow to rake in. There was nothing mean about Bill, and
he didn't refuse to take gold watches and sparklers; and after the
game closed, some of the fellows resembled picked ducks. They
wanted to redeem their watches and diamonds, so Bill agreed to meet
them at a certain well known saloon the next day, as all he wanted
was the stuff. Nearly all of them wished to make me a nice present,
and none of them ever met me afterwards without asking me up to
smile. Just as Bill was closing up, an old fellow, who knew me
well, came up and said:
"Devol, who is that old fool trying to play that game?" My friend
had been up on the hurricane roof, and had not noticed the game
going on; so I remarked to him:
"Hold on. I have been watching him, and am going to take him in
pretty soon." I then gave Bill the wink to keep on, and turning
to the old fellow, I observed, "Don't leave here, as I may want
you to hold stakes for me."
"All right," was the answer; and then I turned to Bill and said,
"Let me see your cards;" so I picked up the one with the old woman
on it and put a pencil mark on it, which I showed the old man (who,
by-the-by, was a large wholesale grocery merchant, whom I had known
for twenty-five years, and he had seen me play monte many a time).
I asked the old fellow that was turning the cards, "if he would
bet on the game."
"Yes," he replied; "I'll bet you can't find any card you may mention,
after I mix 'em up."
Then I said, "Hide the old woman." So he mixed them up again, and
I said, "I know it's hard to find, but I'll bet you $1,000 I can
pick her up the first time." He laid up the money on the table,
and I continued, "This gentleman will hold the stakes." "All
right," said Bill, and he put the money in the grocery-man's hand,
and I turned the card. Bill said, "All right; fairly won. Give
him the money;" and I pocketed the stuff. Then I offered to bet
him $2,000, but Bill declined to bet with me any more; so my friend
the grocery-man spoke up: "I'll bet you I can turn the card."
Bill replied, "I have just lost $1,000, and if I bet any more it
will not be less than $2,000." So I handed my friend the money to
put up; but Bill wouldn't stand it, and spoke up: "I won't do
that. If you don't play your own money, I won't bet;" so I told
him to just lay it up and turn the card, and I would hand it to
him. He got out his wallet and put up $1,700, and I loaned him
$300 to make it up; so he turned the card. The old fellow could
not believe himself. He stood still for a few minutes, looked at
Bill, then at me, and finally said, "Devol, lend me a five-dollar
bill, and I will go home and stay there until I get some sense."
He did what he said he would, and I never saw him for a couple of
months, when one day, as I was passing his house, he hailed me,
and calling me in he counted me out $305 in five-dollar bills, and
said, "Here is what I owe you. Now I want to know if you have
found any more old fellows who don't know how to play that game of
monte." Of course I laughed at the joke, and we were always good
friends.