Thirty-five or forty years ago the Cincinnati boats used to carry
a great many passengers, and the New Orleans boats were always well
filled. I once got aboard the _Yorktown_ at Vicksburg. There was
a full passenger list, and when I opened up there was at once a
crowd around my frugal board. They seemed to enjoy the fair, and
I won a good pile of money. At last we reached Bayou Plaquemine,
at which point there was a strong current sweeping down the bayou,
so that flat-boats were frequently driven in there and stranded.
The _Yorktown_ undertook to land at the mouth of the bayou, but
the current which flowed like a mill-dam was too strong, and she
started down the bayou. They headed her at once for the bank, and
her stern swung around, and, lodging against the opposite bank,
formed a perfect bridge across the mouth of the bayou. The boat
was loaded to the guards, and the water ran through her deck rooms
so rapidly that I thought every minute she would sink or fill with
water, but they put weight on the hatches, then dug around the
stern, so as to let her swing around. Just then two boats came
along, one upward bound and the other down. One of them pushed
and the other pulled the boat off, and then I began to look around,
only to see that all the passengers had gone ashore. After wandering
about the town the suckers decided it was time to kick and have me
arrested, but I divined what was in the wind, and, like Lord Byron's
Arab, silently folded my tent and crept away. I reached New Orleans
first.