Up the River; or, Yachting on the Mississippi

by Oliver Optic

  CHAPTER XXI.

  UP THE MISSISSIPPI.

  As soon as we had transferred the family of Colonel Shepard to theIslander, we unlashed the two vessels, and each stemmed the swiftcurrent of the Mississippi on its own account. I stopped the screw toallow the other steamer to go clear of the Sylvania, and she went aheadseveral lengths before we could recover our headway. I saw CaptainBlastblow waving his adieus to me, as though he intended to run awayfrom us, notwithstanding his former experience.

  "Let her out, Moses," I called to the engineer through thespeaking-tube.

  The chief engineer understood me perfectly, and I immediately heard thesound of the coal-shovel in the fire-room. I saw from the smoke issuingfrom the smoke-stack of the Islander, that her captain intended tohurry her. I had beaten her several times to my own satisfaction; and Iwas certain that he could not sail her any faster than those who hadhandled her on the Great Lakes. I did not like the idea of having theSylvania 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 thesteamer over on the left bank of the river, and the mate kept her at asafe distance from the shore. It was soon evident to me that we weregaining on the Islander. We were overhauling her as we had done manytimes before Captain Blastblow had proved that he was a good seaman, aswell as an upright and straightforward man. He had intimated that hecould sail the Islander faster than I could the Sylvania; and I onlydesired to show him that he was mistaken.

  While the race was in progress, I went down into the cabin to arrangeabout changing the passengers into other quarters. Four of the lateoccupants of the cabin, besides Chloe, had gone on board of ColonelShepard's yacht, and four were left in the Sylvania. There was astate-room for each of them, and I proposed that they should arrangethe matter among themselves. But my father insisted that I should doit myself. I put my father and Mr. Tiffany into the two largeapartments, and Miss Margie and Owen into the two small ones.Cobbington and the new waiter each had a berth, and there were stilltwo spare ones. Everybody was entirely satisfied, though I could seethat Owen was very sorry that Miss Edith had moved into the Islander.

  When I went on deck the Sylvania was abreast of the Islander. Bothsteamers were tugging hard against the current, and each was carryingall 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 thelooks of the stern of the Sylvania. When he saw me, he laughedpleasantly, 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 havebeaten me if we had exchanged vessels. The superiority was in thesteamer, and not in the management.

  The river presented the same unvarying features, and in the whole ofPlaquemine Parish, which contains the river almost up to New Orleansand the Delta, there is no land more than ten feet above the level ofthe gulf. The water was loaded with a sort of yellow mud, and it waseasy enough to see how the levees had been formed and the Deltaprojected far out into the gulf.

  When the water, for any reason, lost its five-mile current, the soil itcontained was deposited on the bottom. As the mighty stream brings itsload of mud down to the gulf, it is left there, and the same forceworks it to each side. In this way, though the effect of a century ofaccumulations are hardly perceptible, the Delta has been extendedfifteen or twenty miles out into the gulf.

  In this mud, which forms the bars at the mouth of the river, vesselsdrawing from sixteen to twenty feet ground; but their keels are driventhrough 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 ascarefully as Holland does for its dikes. Millions have been spent onthem, and every year requires additional expenditures to keep them inrepair. Even New Orleans is four feet below high-water mark, as well asmuch of the surrounding country. The levees, created by the deposit ofsediment from the river, and by human labor, are broken through whenthe freshets send the water down faster than the flow of the river willcarry it off.

  As I have said before, it was now a season of unusually high water. Thecountry beyond the levees was covered. Sugar, cotton, and riceplantations were inundated. Occasionally we could see a group of houseson a knoll, like an island, but a few inches above the level of thewater. In other places we saw dwellings floating, and others still intheir places, but partly submerged. It all looked to me like a regionin which I should not care to live.

  "We are leaving the Islander a good way behind us," said Washburn, whenI returned to the pilot-house, after my survey of the surroundingcountry.

  "She is only about half a mile astern of us," I replied. "I suppose weshall gain about half a mile an hour on her in this current, when wedrive the Sylvania."

  "It is five o'clock in the afternoon," added the mate, glancing at theclock. "I estimate that we are all of fifty miles from New Orleans. Doyou 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 courseshere, and we may get into trouble in some way, though I confess I can'tsee 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 citythere will be something to be seen, but our passengers can't see it inthe night. If I understand the matter, we are in no hurry, and it makesno 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 thesafe 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," Ianswered.

  I had hardly come to a decision before we saw a large body floatingdown the river. We could not make out what it was at first. A bend ofthe river swept it over to the side on which we were sailing, andWashburn headed out for the middle to avoid it. We soon ascertainedthat it was an old flatboat, such as come down the great river with acargo of coal, lumber, grain, or other merchandise, and is then brokenup, because it will not pay its cost to take it back to the point fromwhich it started.

  The flatboat came down the stream broadside to, though we saw it maketwo or three whirls as it advanced. It had evidently broken loose fromits moorings at or near the city, and was on its way to the gulf on itsown account. After passing the bend, the current began to carry it outinto the middle of the river, and we were obliged to sheer off again toavoid a collision with it. I breathed easier when I saw it astern ofthe Sylvania.

  "I should not like to make that thing out, close aboard of us in thedark," said Washburn.

  "Would you like to have it drift against you while moored to theshore?" I asked.

  "I should not; but that would be better than hitting it with full steamon. But we must haul up in the right place. We needn't choose a placewhere the current sets against the shore, as it does at a bend. Ishould haul her up on the other side of the river, and then anythingfloating on its own hook will be carried away from us," repliedWashburn.

  "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 thenight, at least during high water, when the current was bearing offhouses, vessels, and other cumbrous things. Running over a floating logmight disable our propeller, and we should be helpless then. There werebut few great bends in this part of the river, much as the mightystream twists about above New Orleans. I kept a lookout for a suitableplace to moor the steamer to the shore.

  The supper-bell had just rung when I saw such a place as I had beenlooking for. On the right bank was a point of land where a considerablebend sent the whole force of the powerful current over to the otherside of the river. I rang the
bell to reduce the speed, as I pointedout 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 tothe land. It was made fast to a pine-tree, and no other line seemed tobe needed.

  I could see the Islander about two miles down the river. We all wentdown to supper except a hand to notify us of danger from any source. Iwas 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 theyseemed to be in earnest conversation.

  Probably Captain Blastblow had not thought of hauling up for the nightany more than I had when Washburn spoke to me about the matter. I hadno doubt they were discussing the same subject which the mate and I haddisposed of.

  "What are you doing here, Captain Alick?" shouted Captain Blastblow, ashe rang his speed-bell.

  "Waiting for the Islander to come up with us," I replied, laughing, forI 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 balanceher 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?" Iasked, thinking that would furnish sufficient explanation of my action.

  "I did; I ran into it, and smashed in one of its sides so that itfilled with water," answered Captain Blastblow.

  "Then the next man that meets it in the dark cannot see it as well asyou did," I continued. "I don't think it is safe to run in the nightwhen the river is full of floating logs, flatboats, and other things."

  The captain and the owner of the Islander discussed the subject, thoughI could not hear what they said. In a few minutes the captain rang thegong, and the steamer went ahead at full speed. I hoped no accidentwould happen to the Islander, and the chances were in favor of herreaching New Orleans in safety. But there was not much fun in paddlingthrough the muddy river in the dark, let alone the prudence of doingso. My father and Owen came into the pilot-house after supper, and bothof 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 wasvery dark, and I directed the watch I had set for the first part of thenight to rig lanterns at the fore-stay and the topping lift of themain-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 desirableto do so.

  "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 thanhalf a mile distant. Then shouts came from the same direction. Ilighted one of the fireworks, and in the glare I saw the Islander witha house hanging to her bow.