UP THE MISSISSIPPI.
As soon as we had transferred the family of Colonel Shepard to the
Islander, we unlashed the two vessels, and each stemmed the swift
current of the Mississippi on its own account. I stopped the screw to
allow the other steamer to go clear of the Sylvania, and she went ahead
several lengths before we could recover our headway. I saw Captain
Blastblow waving his adieus to me, as though he intended to run away
from us, notwithstanding his former experience.
"Let her out, Moses," I called to the engineer through the
speaking-tube.
The chief engineer understood me perfectly, and I immediately heard the
sound of the coal-shovel in the fire-room. I saw from the smoke issuing
from the smoke-stack of the Islander, that her captain intended to
hurry her. I had beaten her several times to my own satisfaction; and I
was certain that he could not sail her any faster than those who had
handled her on the Great Lakes. I did not like the idea of having the
Sylvania beaten, though I was not much inclined to race for any reason.
It was Washburn's watch, and I gave him the wheel. I had run the
steamer over on the left bank of the river, and the mate kept her at a
safe distance from the shore. It was soon evident to me that we were
gaining on the Islander. We were overhauling her as we had done many
times before Captain Blastblow had proved that he was a good seaman, as
well as an upright and straightforward man. He had intimated that he
could sail the Islander faster than I could the Sylvania; and I only
desired to show him that he was mistaken.
While the race was in progress, I went down into the cabin to arrange
about changing the passengers into other quarters. Four of the late
occupants of the cabin, besides Chloe, had gone on board of Colonel
Shepard's yacht, and four were left in the Sylvania. There was a
state-room for each of them, and I proposed that they should arrange
the matter among themselves. But my father insisted that I should do
it myself. I put my father and Mr. Tiffany into the two large
apartments, and Miss Margie and Owen into the two small ones.
Cobbington and the new waiter each had a berth, and there were still
two spare ones. Everybody was entirely satisfied, though I could see
that Owen was very sorry that Miss Edith had moved into the Islander.
When I went on deck the Sylvania was abreast of the Islander. Both
steamers were tugging hard against the current, and each was carrying
all the steam it was safe to put on. Slowly we walked by the Islander,
and I could not help going aft to see how Captain Blastblow liked the
looks of the stern of the Sylvania. When he saw me, he laughed
pleasantly, and I was convinced there was no bad feeling in his heart.
I had no feeling of personal triumph, for I was satisfied he would have
beaten me if we had exchanged vessels. The superiority was in the
steamer, and not in the management.
The river presented the same unvarying features, and in the whole of
Plaquemine Parish, which contains the river almost up to New Orleans
and the Delta, there is no land more than ten feet above the level of
the gulf. The water was loaded with a sort of yellow mud, and it was
easy enough to see how the levees had been formed and the Delta
projected far out into the gulf.
When the water, for any reason, lost its five-mile current, the soil it
contained was deposited on the bottom. As the mighty stream brings its
load of mud down to the gulf, it is left there, and the same force
works it to each side. In this way, though the effect of a century of
accumulations are hardly perceptible, the Delta has been extended
fifteen or twenty miles out into the gulf.
In this mud, which forms the bars at the mouth of the river, vessels
drawing from sixteen to twenty feet ground; but their keels are driven
through it by strong tugs, or even by the winds acting on the sails.
The State of Louisiana has to look out for its levees almost as
carefully as Holland does for its dikes. Millions have been spent on
them, and every year requires additional expenditures to keep them in
repair. Even New Orleans is four feet below high-water mark, as well as
much of the surrounding country. The levees, created by the deposit of
sediment from the river, and by human labor, are broken through when
the freshets send the water down faster than the flow of the river will
carry it off.
As I have said before, it was now a season of unusually high water. The
country beyond the levees was covered. Sugar, cotton, and rice
plantations were inundated. Occasionally we could see a group of houses
on a knoll, like an island, but a few inches above the level of the
water. In other places we saw dwellings floating, and others still in
their places, but partly submerged. It all looked to me like a region
in which I should not care to live.
"We are leaving the Islander a good way behind us," said Washburn, when
I returned to the pilot-house, after my survey of the surrounding
country.
"She is only about half a mile astern of us," I replied. "I suppose we
shall gain about half a mile an hour on her in this current, when we
drive the Sylvania."
"It is five o'clock in the afternoon," added the mate, glancing at the
clock. "I estimate that we are all of fifty miles from New Orleans. Do
you intend to run after dark, Alick?"
"Why not?" I asked, somewhat surprised at the question.
"I don't think it is quite prudent to do so. The river is very high,
and I would rather see where we are going than go on in the dark,"
answered Washburn.
"The river is over a mile wide, and too deep for snags and sawyers."
"It is cloudy now, and it will be very dark. We don't run by courses
here, and we may get into trouble in some way, though I confess I can't
see how."
"We shall get to New Orleans by midnight," I added.
"What good will it do to get there by midnight? As we approach the city
there will be something to be seen, but our passengers can't see it in
the night. If I understand the matter, we are in no hurry, and it makes
no difference whether we get in to-night or to-morrow noon."
"I think you are right, Washburn; at any rate it is best to be on the
safe side. We will keep on as far as we can while we have the light,
and then we will look out for a good place to tie up for the night," I
answered.
I had hardly come to a decision before we saw a large body floating
down the river. We could not make out what it was at first. A bend of
the river swept it over to the side on which we were sailing, and
Washburn headed out for the middle to avoid it. We soon ascertained
that it was an old flatboat, such as come down the great river with a
cargo of coal, lumber, grain, or other merchandise, and is then broken
up, because it will not pay its cost to take it back to the point from
which it started.
The flatboat came down the stream broadside to, though we saw it make
two or three whirls as it advanced. It had evidently broken loose from
its moorings at or near the city, and was on its way to the gulf on its
own account. After passing the bend, the current began to carry it out
into the middle of the river, and we were obliged to sheer off again to
avoid a collision with it. I breathed easier when I saw it astern of
the Sylvania.
"I should not like to make that thing out, close aboard of us in the
dark," said Washburn.
"Would you like to have it drift against you while moored to the
shore?" I asked.
"I should not; but that would be better than hitting it with full steam
on. But we must haul up in the right place. We needn't choose a place
where the current sets against the shore, as it does at a bend. I
should haul her up on the other side of the river, and then anything
floating on its own hook will be carried away from us," replied
Washburn.
"The logic is correct, and we will seek such a place as you describe."
The sight of the flatboat assured me that it was not safe to run in the
night, at least during high water, when the current was bearing off
houses, vessels, and other cumbrous things. Running over a floating log
might disable our propeller, and we should be helpless then. There were
but few great bends in this part of the river, much as the mighty
stream twists about above New Orleans. I kept a lookout for a suitable
place to moor the steamer to the shore.
The supper-bell had just rung when I saw such a place as I had been
looking for. On the right bank was a point of land where a considerable
bend sent the whole force of the powerful current over to the other
side of the river. I rang the bell to reduce the speed, as I pointed
out the spot to the mate. He ran the nose of the boat up to the bank,
and Buck jumped ashore with a line, with which a hawser was drawn to
the land. It was made fast to a pine-tree, and no other line seemed to
be needed.
I could see the Islander about two miles down the river. We all went
down to supper except a hand to notify us of danger from any source. I
was not at my meal more than fifteen minutes, for I had dined late.
When I came on deck, the Islander was almost abreast of the Sylvania.
Colonel Shepard was in the pilot-house with the captain, and they
seemed to be in earnest conversation.
Probably Captain Blastblow had not thought of hauling up for the night
any more than I had when Washburn spoke to me about the matter. I had
no doubt they were discussing the same subject which the mate and I had
disposed of.
"What are you doing here, Captain Alick?" shouted Captain Blastblow, as
he rang his speed-bell.
"Waiting for the Islander to come up with us," I replied, laughing, for
I could not be less good-natured than the captain of the Islander.
"Did you have to tie up to the bank to wait?" asked Captain Blastblow;
and by this time the steamer was working just steam enough to balance
her in the current, so that she was nearly stationary.
"We are going to lie here to-night," I replied.
"What for?"
"Did you meet a flatboat floating down the river about an hour ago?" I
asked, thinking that would furnish sufficient explanation of my action.
"I did; I ran into it, and smashed in one of its sides so that it
filled with water," answered Captain Blastblow.
"Then the next man that meets it in the dark cannot see it as well as
you did," I continued. "I don't think it is safe to run in the night
when the river is full of floating logs, flatboats, and other things."
The captain and the owner of the Islander discussed the subject, though
I could not hear what they said. In a few minutes the captain rang the
gong, and the steamer went ahead at full speed. I hoped no accident
would happen to the Islander, and the chances were in favor of her
reaching New Orleans in safety. But there was not much fun in paddling
through the muddy river in the dark, let alone the prudence of doing
so. My father and Owen came into the pilot-house after supper, and both
of them approved what I had done.
The Sylvania lay alongside the bank of the stream, held by the hawser,
with her stern a little way out from the shore. At seven o'clock it was
very dark, and I directed the watch I had set for the first part of the
night to rig lanterns at the fore-stay and the topping lift of the
main-boom. I had a quantity of Bengola lights put in the pilot-house,
that we might light up the scene around us, if it should be desirable
to do so.
[Illustration: "I saw the Islander with a house hanging to her bow."
_Page 252._]
About nine o'clock I heard the noise of escaping steam, not more than
half a mile distant. Then shouts came from the same direction. I
lighted one of the fireworks, and in the glare I saw the Islander with
a house hanging to her bow.