CAIRO AND THE OHIO.
Cairo, Ill., Dec. 3, 1903.--We ran in here Thursday afternoon, and the
little steamer had some trouble in pulling us against the current of the
Ohio. The water is yellower than the Mississippi. We tied up below town,
as we hear that they charge $5.00 wharfage for mooring, or even making a
landing in the city. The place where we moored was full of snags, but J.
J. got into the water with his rubber waders and pulled the worst ones
out from under the boat, till all was secure. Moored with the gangway
plank out front and the other fender at the rear, both tied to the boat
and staked at the shore end. Lines were also made fast to trees at each
end. Thus we rode the waves easily--and well it was, for never yet have
we seen so many steamers coming and going, not even at St. Louis.
Several ferry boats ply between the Missouri and Kentucky shores and the
city, transfer steamers carry freight cars across, and many vessels ply
on the rivers with passengers and freight. Surely the men who advised
Charles Dickens to locate lots here were not far out, as things were
then; for the railroads had not as yet superseded the waterways. Not
that they have yet, for that matter. Since coming here we have been
inquiring for the man who proclaimed the rivers obsolete as lines for
transportation.
Cairo is the biggest and busiest town of 12,000 inhabitants we have yet
seen. Many darkies are here, and the worst looking set of levee loafers
yet. We had some oysters at "Uncle Joe's," on the main business street,
the only restaurant we saw; and when we surveyed the drunken gang there,
we were glad we came in our old clothes. Where we moored, the shore is
covered with driftwood, and we piled high our front deck, selecting good
solid oak, hard maple and hemlock, with some beautiful red cedar. Soft,
rotten wood is not worth picking up, as there is no heat derived from
it. Oak and hickory are the best. Old rails are good. Take no
water-soaked wood if you can get any other--it will dry out in a week or
two perhaps, but you may need it sooner, and when dry it may be
worthless. Several men had erected a shack along shore which we should
have taken shots at, but the sun was not out enough. _Desplaines_ is
doing a fair business.
* * * * *
Hickman, Ky., Dec. 5, 1903.--We tied up here after a run of 38 miles
from Cairo. The boys stopped at Columbus, Ky., but did no business--town
full of extinguishers. Hickman is built of brick and stone, as to the
business section, and lit by electricity. Made a bad moor, on a rocky
shore, with anchor out and front starboard bow firmly embedded in mud;
and this worried us so we slept poorly. Wind sprang up about 9 p. m.,
but not fierce. During the night several steamers passed and rocked us,
but not much--the bow was too firmly washed into the mud by the strong
current. This morning it took all hands half an hour to get us off,
about 10 a. m. We were told at Hickman that 100 dwellings had been
erected during the year, and not one was unoccupied. About 3,000 people,
four drug stores, and an alert lot of business men in fine stores. Paid
30 cents a dozen for eggs, 10 cents for steak. We see many floaters,
some every day. Ice formed along shore last night, but the sun is
coming out bright and warm. Wind from the south, not heavy but enough to
kick up a disagreeable bumping against our prow. This is always so when
the wind is against the current.
* * * * *
Donaldson's Point, Mo.--We stopped here yesterday afternoon about 2 p.
m., that the boys might have a day's shooting. J. J., Allen and Taylor
went out on the sand bar all night, and got nothing except an exalted
idea of the perspicuity of the wild goose. _En passant_ they were almost
frozen, despite a huge fire of drift they kindled.
We tied up on the channel side, just below Phillips' Bar light, a good
sandy shore with deep water and no snags--an ideal mooring place. We
moored with the port side in, the _Desplaines_ outside, lines fore and
aft and the fore gangway plank out. But the launch was uneasy and would
bump the stern, and there must have been a review of the ghosts of
departed steamers during the night, for many times we were awakened by
the swell of passing vessels rocking us.
This morning is clear and cold, temperature 20, with a keenness and
penetrating quality not felt with a temperature twenty degrees lower in
the north. We saw some green foliage in the woods, and Clement said it
was "fishing pole"--cane! Our first sight of the canebrake. The Doctor,
J. J., the boy and Clement went up through the cornfields to the woods,
but found no game. A few doves got up, but too far away for a shot. Jim
got a mallard, Woodruff a fox squirrel--and one whose name we will not
disclose shot a young pig. An old darkey came down to the _Desplaines_
with milk, chickens and eggs, for which he got a fabulous price; also a
drink, and a few tunes on the phonograph, and he hinted that if they
should shoot a pig he would not know it, or words to that effect.
Hundreds of hogs ran the woods, and showed the tendency to reversion by
their long, pointed heads and agile movements. Apparently they eat the
pecans, for their tracks were thick under the trees. Rather expensive
food, with the nuts worth 30 cents a pound.
About 3:20 we got under way for down the river. This morning a floater
passed quite close to the boat. Two men and a dog manned the craft. Said
they were bound for Red River. The children gathered a bag of fine
walnuts of unusual size. As we never lose a chance of adding to the
wood-pile, we gathered in a couple of oak rails and a fine stick of
cedar, which we sawed and split for exercise.
There are no cows on the negro farms, no chickens. In fact, their
traditional fondness for the fowl is strictly limited to a penchant for
someone else's chickens. When we ask for milk they always take it to
mean buttermilk, until enlightened. Here we saw a remarkable boat, a
dugout canoe not over four inches in depth, and warped at that, but the
women told us they went about in it during the floods. We bought some
pecans, paying 7 cents a quart.
* * * * *
Tuesday, Dec. 8, 1903.--Sunday evening we ran till we reached New
Madrid, Mo., about 8 p. m. We made a good landing, tying up with the tug
alongside, lines out at each end, both fenders out and the launch
astern. The boys did a good business here, and enjoyed the visit. Got
meat and some drugs, but could get no milk or eggs, and only two pounds
of butter in the town. After noon we got off and ran down to Point
Pleasant, a decaying town isolated by a big sand bar in front of her,
covered with snags. The _Desplaines_ picked up a fine lot of wood here,
enough to run them a week, which they piled on our front deck. This
morning we came on to Tiptonville landing, where we saw a cotton field
and gin. This is the northern limit of cotton cultivation, and it was
poor stuff.
Everyone who accosts us asks for whisky, which seems to be scarce. The
temperance movement evidently has made great progress in these places.
The bluffs grow higher as we go south, and no attempt seems made to
restrain the river from cutting in at its own sweet will. Crumbling
banks of loose sand and earth, fringed with slim willows and larger
trees, at every rod some of them hanging over into the stream. The snag
boat _Wright_ seems busy removing these when menacing navigation, but we
see many awaiting her.
This afternoon we passed a floater who had gone by us at New Madrid.
Propelled by two stout paddles and four stout arms, they have made as
good time as we with our tug. When we see how these men entrust
themselves to the mercies of the great river in such a frail craft, it
seems as if we had little to fear in our big boat. They have a little
scow about six feet by ten, all but the front covered by a cabin,
leaving just enough room in front for the sweeps, and they tow a skiff.
If the wind is contrary or too stiff they must lie up, but at other
times the current carries them along with slight exertion at the sweeps.
The river is falling fast. Each night we tie up with all the boat
floating easily, and every morning find ourselves aground. It seems to
fall about six inches a night.
* * * * *
Thursday, Dec. 10, 1903.--For two nights and a day we lay at
Caruthersville, Mo., where the _Desplaines_ had _bon marche_, selling 16
extinguishers and getting the promise of a dozen more. A large town,
full of business and saloons, gambling houses, booths for rifle shooting
and "nigger babies," etc. Tradespeople seemed surly and ungracious,
except one woman who kept a restaurant and sold us oysters and bread.
She was from Illinois. Still, it must be a place of unusual
intelligence, as a doctor is Mayor.
Last night we had a disagreeable blow from the northwest. We went out
and overhauled our mooring carefully before retiring. The back line was
insecure, as there was nothing to which it could be attached, and the
boys had merely piled a lot of rocks on the end; but we could see
nothing better; so merely strengthened the lines fastening the fenders
to the boat. It was a circular storm, apparently, as the wind died out
and in a few hours returned. When we set out at 7:30 this morning it was
fairly calm, but at 8:20 it is again blowing hard from the same quarter.
The sun is out brightly and it is not cold. Whitecaps in plenty but
little motion, as we travel across the wind. There are now no large
towns before us and we hope to run rapidly to Memphis. The river is big,
wide, deep and powerful. Huge trunks of trees lie along the bars. What a
giant it must be in flood. Not a day or night passes without several
steamers going up and down. The quantity of lumber handled is great, and
growing greater as we get south. Our chart shows the levees as beginning
above Caruthersville, but we saw nothing there except a little stone
dumped alongshore. Waves pounding hard.
Gold Dust Landing, Tenn., Dec. 10, 1903. In spite of a head wind we
made a run of 52 miles today, and moored below a Government barge. The
fine steamer _Robert E. Lee_ was at the landing and pulled out just as
we ran in. The day was clear and sunny, not very cold, about 39, but
whenever we ran into a reach with the west or southwest wind ahead the
boat pounded most unpleasantly. No floaters afloat today, but numbers
along shore in sheltered nooks. The levees here are simply banked
fascines, stone land earth, to keep the river from cutting into the
shores. Even at low water there is an enormous amount of erosion going
on. It takes unremitting vigilance to keep the river in bounds and the
snags pulled out.
* * * * *
Fogleman's Chute, Dec. 12, 1903.--We made a famous run yesterday of over
60 miles, and tied up here about 5 p. m. on the eastern shore, the
channel being on the west. A small cabin boat stands near us, in which
are a man and three boys who have come down from Indiana, intending to
seek work at Memphis. Their first experience cabin boating. We asked one
of the boys if he liked it, and he looked up with a sudden flash of
wildness and keen appreciation.
A fierce south wind came up in the night, and there are situations more
enviable than trying to sleep in a houseboat with three boats using her
for a punching bag. And the little woman had asthma, badly, to make it
worse. This morning it was blowing hard and raining. The rain beat in on
the front deck and ran into the hold and under the quarter-rounds into
the cabin. The roof leaked into the storeroom also. Millie was seasick
and some one else would have been, but he took the children out for a
rove. Found a walnut tree and gathered a large bag of fine nuts. The
others brought in some squirrels and pocketsful of pecans, but we found
neither. Stretched the skins on wood and applied alum to the raw
surface, intending to make the little woman some buskins to keep her
feet warm. Quantities of mistletoe grow on the trees about us. The sun
came out about 2 p. m., when too late to make the run to Memphis, 22
miles, before dark. Yesterday was so warm that we could sit out in the
open air without wraps. We are tied up to Brandywine Island, near the
lower end.
After lunch we sallied out again and met the owner of the soil, who
ordered us off in a surly manner. In the whole trip this is the first
bit of downright incivility we have met. After he found we were not
after his squirrels he became somewhat less ungracious. The sky soon
became overcast again, and the rain returned. About sunset it set in to
blow a gale from the northwest, and the billows rolled in on us. We got
the launch and skiff out of danger, carefully overlooked our lines and
fenders, but still the tug bumped against the side. How the wind blows,
and the waves dash against the side of the tug driving her against our
side with a steady succession of blows. It worried us to know that the
safety of the boats depended on a single one-inch rope, and the tug
lashed against the outside strained on it. The rope was tense as a
fiddle-string. If it broke the stern of our boat would swing out and
throw us on an ugly snag that projected slightly about six feet below
us; and the tug would be thrown into the branches of a huge fallen
cypress. So we took the long rope and carried it ashore to the north
end, from which the wind came, and lashed it securely to a huge stump,
then tied the other end through the overhang of our boat at that end.
If the line parts the new line will hold us against the soft, sandy
bank, and give time for further effort to keep us off the snag. As it
turned out the line held, but it does no harm to take precautions, and
one sleeps better.
During the night the wind died out, and the morning of Sunday, Dec. 13,
1903, is clear and cold, a heavy frost visible. The river is full of
floaters, one above us, two directly across, one below, another above,
and one floating past near the other shore. The _Desplaines_ is getting
up steam and we hope to see Memphis by noon.
[Illustration: MEMPHIS LEVEE. "TOUGH CROWD."]
[Illustration: THE CANOE.]