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Les diagrammas suivants illustrent la mAthoda. by errata led to ant une paiure, Fa9on d 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. OLD TIMES Oil THE MISSISSIPPI By mark twain, Author uf 'TnnoMnta Abroad." 'Roughing It," ate., etc TORONTO: BELFORD BROTH ERSi PUBLIBIIKRS 1876. : .1 F 353 T8^ 'I .a OiTDiiBY & Burns, Puinikiis, 11 Colbome Street, Toront) \\ I] CONTENTS. fKnv., CHAPTER I.— "Cub" wan is to bk a Pilot 9 Do. II. — "Cub" Pilot's Fxpkrience; or, Learn- ing TIIK klVKR 22 Do. III.— The Ct>NTiNUKi> Pkrim-kxities of "Cub" Piloting 42 Do. IV.— Thk "Cub" Pflot's Education nearly COMPLKTIJ) 61 Do. V. — "Sounding." Faculties Peculiarly Necessary to a Pilot 79 Do. VT.— Ofkiciai. Rank and Djgnity of a Pilot. The Rise and Dkcadence of thk Pilots' Associ vriiiN ico Do. VII. — Leaving Port: Racing: .Shortening ok the River kv Cut-offs : A Stea.m- boat's Ghost : " Stephen's" Plan or "Resumi rroN" 127 A Litbrarv Nightmari; 149 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. (CHAPTER I. "CUH" WANTS TO HK A I'lI.OT. * VVlien 1 was a boy, thoio was but one permanent ambition among my comi .J(;a in our village on the west bank of the Mississi River. That was, to be a steamboatman. W( ai. ' transient ambitions of other sorts, but they were only transient. When a circus came and went, it left us all burning to become clowns; the first negro minstrel show that came to our section left us all suffering to try that kind of life ; now and then we had a hope that if we lived and were good, God would permit us to be pirates. These ambitions faded out, each in its turn ; but the ambition to be a steamboatman always remained. Once a day a cheap, gaudy packet arrived up- ward from St. Louis, and another downward from Keokuk. Before these events had transpired, the V) ul.|> TIMES ON THK MISSISSHM'I. I (lay was glorious with expectancy ; after tliey had transpired, the day was a dead and empty thing. Not only the boys, l>ut thi^ whole village?, felt this. After all these years 1 can picture that old time to myself now, ju.st as it was then: the white town drowsing in the sunshine of a summer's nmrning; the streets em])ty, or pretty nearly so ; one or two clerks sitting in front of the Water Street stores, with their splint-bottomed chairs tilted back against the wall, chins on breasts, hats slouched over their faces, asleep — with shingle shavings enough around to show what broke them down ; a sow and a litter of [)igs loafing along the sidewalk, doing a good business in water-melon rinds and seeds ; two or three lonely little freight piles scattered about tht^ " levee ;" a pile of '* skids " on the slope of the stone- paved wharf, and the fragrant town drunkard asleep in the^ shadow of them ; two or three wood flats at the head of the wharf, but nobody to listen to the pe tceful lapping of the wavelets against them ; the great Mississippi, the majestic, the magnificent Mississippi, rolling its mile-wide tide along, shining in the sun; the dense forest away on the other side ; the " point " above the town, and the " point " below, bounding the river-glimpse and turning it into a sort of sea, and withal a very still and brilli- ant and lonely one. Presently a film of dark smoke appears above one of those remote " points ;" instantly a negro drayman, fanious for his quick eya and prodigious voice, lifts up the cry, "S-t-e-a-m- OM) TIMKS ON THK MISSISSIPPI. 11 boat a-comin' ! " and the scene chanj^'os ! The town drunkard stirs, the cU-rks wake up, a furious clatter (it'diays follows, every house and store pours out a human contribution, and all in a twinkling the dead town is aliv(3 and moving. Drays, carts, men, boys, all go hurrying from many (quarters to a common centre, the wharf Assembled there, the ])0()plc fasten their eyes upon tlie coming boat as upon a wonder they are seeing for the tirst time. And the boat in rather a handsome sight, too. She is long and sharp, and trim and pretty ; she has two tall, fancy-topped chimneys, with a gilded device of some kind swung between them ; a fanciful pilot-house, all glass and " gingtjrbread," perched on top of the " texas " deck behind them ; the paddle-boxes are gorgeous with a picture or with gilded rays above the boat's name ; the boiler deck, the hurricane deck, and the toxas deck are fenced and ornamented with clean, white railings ; there is a flag gallantly Hying from the jack-staff; the furnace do(^rs are open and the fires glaring bravely ; the upper deck« are black with passengers ; the captain stands by the big bell, calm, imposing, the envy of all ; great volumes of the blackest smoke are rolling and tumbling out of the chimneys — a husbanded grand- eur created with a bit of pitch pine just before arriving at a town ; the crew are grouped on the forecastle ; the broad stage is run far out over the port bow, and an envied deck-hand stands picturesquely on the end of it with a coil of rope in 12 OLD TIMES OX THE MISSISSIPPI. II I his hand ; the pent steam is screaming through the gange-coeks ; the captain lifts his hand, a bell rings, the wheels stop ; then they turn back, cluirning the water to foam, and the steamer is at rest. Then such a scramble as there is to get aboard, and to get ashore, and to take in freight and to discharge freight, all at one and the same time ; and such a yelling and cursing as the mates facilitate it all with ! Ten minutes later the steamer is under way again, with no flag on the jack-staff and no black smoke issuing from the chimneys. After ten more minutes the town is dead again, and the town drunkard asleep by the skids once more. My father was a justice of the peace, and I sup- posed he possessed the power of life and death over all men and could hang anybody that offended him. This was distinction enough for me as a general thing ; but the desire to be a steamboatman kept intruding, nevertheless. I first wanted to be a cabin-boy, so that I could come out with a white apron on and shake a table-cloth over the side where all my old comrades could see me ; later I thought I would rather be the deck-hand who stood on the end of the stage-plank, with the coil of rope in his hand, because he was particularly conspi- cuous. But these were only day-dreams — they were too heavenly to be contemplated as real possi- bilities. By-and-by one of our boys went away. He was not heard of for a long time. At last he turned up as apprentice engineer or " striker " on a OLD TIMES ON TJIE MISSISSIPPI. 13 steamboat. Tl ' thing sliook the bottom out of all my Suiiday-scliool teacliings. That boy had been notoriously worldly, and I just the reverse ; yet he wasexalted to this eminence, and I left in obscurity and misery. There was nothing generous about this fellow in his greatness. He would always man- age to have a rusty bolt to scrub while his boat tarried at our town, and he would sit on the znside guard and scrub it, where we could see all him and t'livy him and loath him. And whenever his boat was laid up he would come home anecaus(' I wantod to get the bronzed and weather-beaten look of an old traveler. Before the second day was half gone, 1 experienced a joy which filled me with the purest gratitude; for I saw that the skin had l)egun to blister and ])eel off my face and neck. I wished that the boys and girls at home could see me now. We reached Louisville in time — at l(?ast the neiirhborhood of it. We stuck hard and fast on the rocks in the middle of the river and lay there four days. I was now beginning to feel a strong sense of beiig a ])art of the Ijoat's famil}', a sort of infant scm to the captain and younger brother to the officers. There is no estimating the pride I took in this grandeur, or the affection that began to swell and grow in me for those people. I could not know how the lordly steamboatman .scorns that sort of presumption in a mere landsman. 1 ])ar- ticularly longed to acquire the least trifle of notice from the big stormy mate, and I was on the alert for an oppoi'tunity to do him a service to that end. It came at last. The riotous powwow of setting a spar was going on down on the forecastle, and 1 went down there and stood around in the way — or mostly skipping out of it — till the mate suddenly roared a general order for somebody to biing him a capstan bar. 1 sprang to his side and said : " Tell me where it is— I'll fetch it ! " If a rag-picker ha could not have been more astounded than theniate was. He even stopped swearing. He stood and stared down at me. It took him t^ seconds to scrape his disjointed remains together again. Then he said impressively : " Well, if this don't beat hell ! " and turned to his work with the air of a man who had beeu confronted with a problem too abstruse for solution. I crept away, and courted solitude for the rest of the day. I did not go to dinner ; I stayed away from supper until everybody else had finished. I did not feel so much like a member of the boat's family now as before. However, my spirits re- turned, in installments, as we pursued our way down the river. I was sorry I hated the mate so, because it was not in (young) human nature not to admire him. He was huge and muscular, his face was bearded and whiskered all over ; he had a red woman and a blue woman tattooed on his right arm, — one on each side of a blue anchor witk a red rope to it; and in the matter of profanity he was perfect. When he was getting out cargo at a land- ing, I was always where I could see and hear. He felt all the sublimity of his great position, and made the world feel it, too. When he gave even the simplest order, he discharged it like a blast of lightning, and sent a long, reverberating peal of profanity thundering after it. I could not help contrasting the way in which the average lands- man would j?ive an order, with the mate's way of OLD TIMES OX THE MISSISSIPPI. 10 r of a doing it. If the landsman should wish the gang- plank moved a foot further forward, he would pro- bably say : " James, or William, one of you push that plank forward, please ; " but put the mate in liis place, and he would roar out : " Here, now, start that gang-plank for'ard ! Lively, now! What're you about ! Snatch it ! snatch it ! There ! there ! Aft again ! aft again ! Don't you hear me ? Dash it to dash! are you going to sleej) over it! 'Vast heaving. 'Vast heaving, T tell you ! Going to heave it clear astern ? WHERE're you going with that barrel 1 forard with it 'fore I make you swallow it, you dash-dash-dash-ci^«s/^e(/ split be- tween a tired mud-turtle and a crippled hearse- horse !" I wished I could talk like that. When the soreness of my adventure with the mate had somewhat worn off, I began timidly to make up to the humblest official connected with the boat — the night watchman. He snubbed my advances at first, but I presently adventured to offer him a new chalk pipe, and that softened him. So he allowed me to sit with him by the big bell on the hurricane deck, and in time he melted into conversation. He could not well have helped it, I hung with such homage on his words and so plain- ly showed that I felt honored by his notice. He told me the names of dim capes and shadowy islands as we glided by them in the solemnity of the night, under the winking stars, and by and by 20 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. got to talking about liimself. He Hccmed over- sentimental for a man whose salary was six dollars a week — or rather he might have seemed so to an older person than I. But I drank in liis words hungrily, and with a faith that might have moved niouutains if it liad been a])plied judiciously. What \v'as it to me that he was soiled and seedy and fragrant with gin ? What was it to me that his grammar was bad, his construction worse, and his profanity so voirbed wildcat literature and appropriated its marvels, until in time he had woven odds and ends of the mess into this yarn, and then gone on telling it to fledgelings like me, until he had come to believe it himself i' I ii i-. I V\ CHAPTER II. A "CUH" PILOT'S KXFERIKNCE; OR, LEARNING THE RIVER. What witli lying on the rocks four days at Louis- ville, and some other delays, the poor old Paul Jones fooled away about two weeks in making the voyage from Cincinnati to New Orleans. This gave me a chance to get acquainted with one of the pilots, and he taught me liow to steer the boat, and thus made the fascination of river life more potent than ever for me. It also gave me a chance to get acquainted with a youth who had taken deck passage — more's the pity ; for he easily borrowed six dollars of me on a promise to return to the boat and pay it back to me the day after we should arrive. But he probably died or forgot, for he never came. It was doubtless the former, since he had said his parents were wealthy, and he only traveled deck passage because it was cooler.^ I s »on discovered two things. One was that a I "Deck" passage — /. (». steerage passage. 22 MM) i'lMKS its THE MI>SISS||'IM. 2,S vcsflel would not bo likely to sail for the mouth ol* the Amazon under ten or twelve years; and tlir other was that the nine or ten dollars still left in my pocket wouM not sutHee for so imposing an t^xplor- ation as I had jilanned, even if I eould afford to wait for a ship. Then-fore it followMl that 1 must con- trive a new career. The Paul .Fones was now hound for St. Louis. I planned a siege against my pilot, and at the end of three liard (hiys he surrendered. He agreed to teach me the Mississi])pi River from New Orleans to St. Louis for five Inmdred dollars, payable out «>f the first wages I should receive after graduating. 1 entered upon the small enter[)riso of " learning" twelve or thirteen hundnMl miles of the great Mi.ssissij)pi lliver with the easy confidence of my time of lite. If I had really known what I was about to require of my faculties, I shouM not have had the courage to begin. I supposed that all a pilot had to do was to keep his boat in the river, and I did not consider that that could be much of a trick, since it was so wide. The boat backed out from New Orleans at four in the afternoon, and it was "our watch" until eight Mr. B , my chief, "straightened her up," plowed her along past the sterns of the other boats that lay at the Levee, and then said, "Here, take her; shave those steamships as close as you'd peel an apple.'' I took the wheel, and my heart went down into my boots; for it seemed to me that we were about to scrape the side off every ship in the line, we were Ill '2\ Ol.l) TIMKS ON THK MISSISSII'IM. SO close. I Ih'M iny ln'catli and lM';^ari to claw the Itoat away f'nuii th(^ daii^'cr ; and I liad my own o[)ini()n ot' tlic pilot who had known no iK'ttcr than to get us into such peril, hut I was too wise to ex- press it. In hair a minute I had a wide nuirgin of safety intervening between the Paul Jones and tlie ships; and within ten seconds more I was set aside in disgrace, and Mr. B , wn,s going into danger again and flaying me alive with abuse of my cowarm side to side of his wheel, and trimmed the ships so closely that disaster seemed ceaselessly imminent. When he had cooled a little he told me that the easy water was close ashore and the current outside, and therefore we must hug the bank, uj) stream, to get the ..enetit of the former, and stay well out, down- strt^am, to take advantage of the latter. In my own mind I resolved to be a down-stream pilot and leave the upstreaming to people dead to prudence. Now and then Mr B called my attention to certain things. Said he, " This is Six-Mile Point." I assented. It was pleasant enough information, but I could not see the bearing of it. I was not con- scious that it was a matter of any interest to me. Another time he said, " This is Nine-Mile Point." Later he said, " This is Twelve-Mile Point." They were all about level with the water's edge ; they all looked about alike to me; they were monotonously unpicturesque. I hoped Mr. B — would change OM) TIMKS ON THK MISSFSSIPPI. 'J5 i to claw I my own 'tt(^r til an \h{} to ox- inargiii of s and the set asidt' to dangiM- y coward- /Iniiiv tlie afed from ships HO imminent, it the easy itside, and Lm, to get )ut, down- n my own , and leave ice. ention to ile Point." ation, but not con- !st to me. le Point." ." They ; they all otonously d change the suhject. Bnt no, he would crowd up around n point, huiririn«r the shore with atlection, and thensav; "The shick water ends here, ahreast this hunch ot ( 'hiiia-trees; now we cross over." 80 he crossed over. He gave me the wheel (Mice or twice, hut I luul no luck. I citlK!r came luuir chipping off the edge of a sugar plantation, or elsii I yawed too far from shore, ii}u\ so 1 dropped hack into disgrace again and got a!)usL'd. The watch was ended at last, and we took supper and went to bed. At midnight the glare of a lantern shone in my eyes, and the night watchman said: — "Come I turn out!" And then he left. I could not understand this ex- traordinary procedure ; so I j)resently gave up trying to, and dozed otf to sleep. Pretty soon the watch- man was liack again, and this time he was gruff. 1 was annoyed. I said: — " What do you want to come bothering around here in the middle of the night for ? Now as like as not I'll not get to sleep again to-night." The watchman said : — " Well, if this aint good, I'm blest." The " off-watch" was ju.st turning in, and I heard some brutal laughter from them, and such remark^i as. "Hello, watchman an't the new cub turned out yet ? He's delicate, likely. Give him some sugar in a rag and send for the chambermaid to sing rock- a-by-baby to him." About this time Mr. B appeared on the scene. I 26 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. Soiiuithing like a minute later I was climbini;" up the pilot-house steps with some of my clothes on and the rest in my arms. Mr. B was close behind, com- menting. Here was something fresh — this thing of getting u\) in the middle of the night to go to work. It was a detail in })iloting that had never occurred to me at all. I kuew that boats ran all night, but somehow^ I had never happened to reflect that some- body had to get up out of a warm bed to run them. I began to fear that piloting was not quite so roman- tic as I had imagined it was ; there was something very real and work-like about this new phase of it. It was a rather dingy night, although a fair num- V>er of stars were out. The big mate was at the wheel, and he Jiad the old tub pointed at a star and was holding her straight up the middle of the river The shores on either hand were not much more than a mile apart, but they seemed wonderfully far away and ever so vague and indistinct. The mate said: — " We've got to land at Jones's plantation, sir." The vengeful spirit in me exulted. I said to my self, I wish you joy of your job, Mr. B ; you'll have a good time finding Mr. Jones's plantation such a night as this; and I hope you nevarwill find it as long as you live. Mr. B said to the mate : — " Upper end of the plantation, or the lower ? " " Up})er." " I can't do it. The stumps' there are out of the OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 27 o- up the . and the nd, corn- thing of to work, occurred Lght, but at some- un them. D roman- )mething ase of it. air num- is at the , star and the river lore than ■ar away e waid : — I, sir. d to my - h ; you'll antation will find /I »> ^er f t of the water at this stage. It's no great distance to the lower, and you'll have to get along with that." " All right, sir. If Jones don't like it he'll have to lump it, I reckon." And then the mate left. My ^exultation began to cool and my wonder to come up. Here was a man who not only proposed to find this plantation on such a night, but to find either end of it you preferred. I dreadfully wanted to ask a (Question, but I was carrying about as many short answers as my cargo-room would admit of, so I held my peace. All I desired to ask Mr. B was the simple ques- tion whether he was ass enough to really imagine he was going to find that plantation on a night when all plantations were exactly alike and all the same color. But I held in. I used to have fine in- spirations of prudence in those days. Mr. B made for the shore and soon was scraping it, just the same as if it had been day- light. And not only that, but singing — " Father in heaven the day is declining," etc. It seemed to me that I had put my life in the keeping of a peculiarly reckless outcast. Presently, he turned on me and said : — " What's the name of the first point above New Orleans ?" I was gratified to be able to answer promptly, and I did. I said I did n't know. " Don't know ? " 8 (3LD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. ) k This manner jolted me. I was down at the foot again, in a moment. But I had to say just what I had said before. " Well, you re a smart one," said Mr. B . " What's the name of the neoct point ? " Once more I did n't know. " Well this beats anything. Tell me the name of any point or place I told you." I studied awhile and decided that I could n't. " Look-a-here ! What do you start out from, above Twelve-Mile Point, to cross over ? " " I — I — don't know." " You — you — don't know ? " mimicking my drawling manner of speech. " What do you know ? " " I — I — nothing, for certain." " By the great Caesar's ghost I believe you ! You 're the stupidest dunderhead 1 ever saw or ever heard of, so help me Moses ! The idea of yov being a pilot — you ! Why, you don't know enough to pilot a cow down a lane." Oh, but his wrath was up ! He was a nervous man, and he shuffled from one side of his wheel to the other as if the floor was hot. He would boil a while to himself, and then overflow and scald me again. *' Look-a-here ! What do you suppose I told you the names of those points for ? " I tremblingly considered a moment, and then the devil of temptation provoked me to say : — OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 29 the foot what I B . le name n't. t from, ng my io you ! You lor ever of you enougli lervous leel to boil a lid me )ld you len the " Weil — to — to — be entertaining, I thought." This was a red rag to the bull. He raged and stoririod so (he was crossing the river, at the time) that I judge it made him blind, because he ran over the steering-oar of a trading-scow. Of course the traders sent up a volley of red-hot profanity. iVever was a man so grateful as Mr. B was : be- cause he was brim full, and here were subjects who would talk back. He threw open a window, thrust his head out, and such an irruption followed as I never had heard before. The fainter and farther away the scowmen's curses drifted, the higher Mr. B lifted his voice and the weightiei* his adjec- tives grew. When he closed the window he was empty. You could have drawn a seine through his system and not caught curses enough to dis- turb your mother with. Presently he said to me in the gentlest way : — " My buy, you nuist get a little memorandum- book, and every time I tell you a thing, put it down right away. There's only one way to be a pilot, and that is to get this entire river by heart. You have to know it just like A E C." That was a dismal revelation to me ; for my memory was never loaded with anything but blank cartridges. However, I did not feel discouraged long. I judged that it was best to make some al- lowances, for doubtless Mr. B was "' stretching." Presently he pulled a rope and struck a few strokes on the big bell. The stars were all gone, now, and I 30 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. the niglit was as black as ink. I could hear the wheels churn along the bank, but I was not entirely certain that I could see the shore. The voice of the invisible watchman called up from the hurri- ^ cane deck : — " What's this, sir ? " " Jones's plantation." I said to myself, I wish 1 might venture to offer a small bet that it is n't. But 1 did not chirp. I only waited to see. Mr. B handled the engine bells, and in due time the boat's nose came to tlie land, a torch glowed from the forecastle, a man skipped ashore, a darky's voice on the bank said, " Gimme de carpet-bag, Mars' Jones," and the next moment we were standing up the river again, all serene. I reflected deeply aAvhile, and then said, — but not aloud, — Well, the finding of that plantation was the luckiest accident that ever happened ; but it could n't happen again in a hundred years. And I fully believed it luas an accident, too. By the time we had gone seven or eight hundred miles up the river, I had learned to be a tolerably plucky upstream steersman, in dajdight, and be- fore we reached St. Louis I had made a trifle of progress in night-work, but only a trifle. I had a note-book thao fairly bristled with the names of towns, " points," bars, islands, bends, reaches, etc. ; but the information was to be found only in the note -book — none of it was in my head. It made my heart ache to think I had only got half of the OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 31 iiidred irably id be- lif^e of lad a [les of etc. ; ill the made »f the liver set down ; for as our watch was four hours ofi' ami four hours on, day and night, there was a long four-hour gap in my book for every time I had slept since the voyage began. My chief was presently hired to go on a Wig New Orleans boat, and I packed my satchel and went with him. She was a grand affair. When I stood in her pilot-house I was so far above the water that 1 seemed perched on a mountain ; and her decks stretched so far away, fore and aft, below me, that I wondered how I could ever have considered the little Paul Jones a large craft. There were other differences, too. The Paul Jones's pilot-house was a cheap, dingy, Itattered rattle-trap, cramped for room : but here was a sumptuous glass temple ; room enough to have a dance in ; showy red and gold window-curtains ; an imposing sofa ; leather cushions and a back to the high bench where visit- ing pilots sit, to spin yarns and " look at the river ; " bright, fanciful " cuspadores " instead of a broad wooden box filled with sawdust ; nice new oil- cloth on the floor ; a hospital big stove for winter ; a wheel as high as my head, costly with inlaid work ; a wire tiller-rope ; bright brass knobs for the bells ; and a tidy, white-aproned, black " texas- tender," to bring up tarts and ices and coffee during mid-watch, day and night. Now this was " something like ; " and so I began to take heart once more to believe that piloting was a romantic sort of occupation after all. The moment we were 32 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 1-1 under way I began to prowl about the great steamer and fill myself with joy. She was as clean and as dainty as a drawing-room ; when I looked down her long, gilded saloon, it was like gazing through a splendid tunnel ; she had an oil-picture, b}'' some gifted sign-painter, on every state-room door; she glittered with no end of prism-fringed chandeliers ; the clerk's office was elegant, the bar was marvelous, and the bar-keeper had been bar- bered and upholstered at incredible cost. The boiler deck (i.e., the second story of the boat, so to speak) was as spacious as a church, it seemed to me ; so with the forecastle ; and there was no piti- ful handful of deck-hands, firemen, and roust- abouts down there, but a whole batallion of men. The fires were fiercely glaring from a long row of furnaces, and over them were eight huge boilers ! This was unutterable pomp. The mighty engines — but enough of this. I had never felt so fine before. And when I found that the regiment of natty ser- vants respectfully " sir'd " me, my satisfaction was complete. When I returned to the pilot-house, St. Louis was gone and I was lost. Here was a piece of river which was all down in my book, but I could make neither head nor tail of it : you understand, it was turned around. I had seen it, when coming up- stream, but I had never faced about to see how it looked when it was behind mq. My heart broke again, for it was plain that I had got to learn this troublesome river both ways. OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 38 ion was Tlie pilot-house was full of ])ilots, going down to " look at the river." What is called the " upper liver" (the two hundre*! miles between St. Louis and Cairo, where the Ohio conies in) was low ; and the Mississii)pi changes its channel so constantly, that the })ilot8 used to always find it necessaiy to run down to T^airo to take a fresli look, when their boats were to lie in port a week, that is, when the water was at a low stage. A deal (jf this " looking at the river" was done by poor fellows who seldom had a Ijerth, and whose only ho^te of getting one la}' in their being always freshly ])Osted, and there- fore ready to (h'op into the shoes of some reputable pilot, for a single trij), on account of such pilot's sudden illness, or some other necessity. And a good many of them constantly ran up and down inspecting the river, not because they ever really hoped to get a berth, but because (they being guests of the boat) it was cheaper to "look at the river" than sta}^ ashore and pay board. In time these fellows grew dainty in their tastes, and only infested boats that had an established reputation for setting good tables. All visiting pilots were useful, for they were always ready and willing, winter or summer, night or day, to go out in the yawl and help buoy the channel or assist the boat's pilots in any way they could. They were likewise welcome because all pilots are tireless talkers, when gathered together, and as they talk only about the river, they are always understood and are always interesting. J i > f 34 UIJ) TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. Your true pilot cares nothing about anything on earth but the river, and his pride in liis occupation surpasses the pride of kiugs. We liad a fine company of these river-inspectors along, this trij). There were eight or ten ; and there was abundance of room for them in our great pilot-house. Two or three of them wore polished silk hats, elaborate shirt-fronts, diamond breastpins, kid gloves, and })atent- leather boots. They were choice in their English, and bore themselves with a dignity proper to men of solid means and prodi- gious reputation as pilots. The others were more or less loosely clad, and wore upon their heads tall felt cones that were suggestive of the days of the Connnonwealth. I was a cipher in this august company, and felt subdued, not to say torpid. I was not even of suf- ficient consecpaence to assist at the wheel when it was necessary to put the tiller hard down in a hurry ; the guest that stood nearest did that when occasion required — and this was pretty much all the time, because of the crookedness of the channel and the scant water. I stood in a corner ; and the talk I listened to took the hope all out of me. One visitor said to another : — " Jim, how did you run Plum Point, coming up ?" " It was in the night, there, and I ran it the way one of the boys on the Diana told me ; started out about fifty yards above tjie wood pile on the false point, and held on the cabin under Plum OLD TIMES ON THK MISSISSIPPI. 35 hing on iupatiou spectora en ; and ur great polished jastpins, Dy were es with I prodi- ire more 3ads tall s of the Eind felt I of suf- w^hen it v^n in a it when uch all channel and the le. One igup ?" he way started on the I- Pluui P(jint till I raised the reef — ([uarter less twain — then straightened up for the middle hai till I got well abreast the old one-limbed cotton-wood in the bend, then got my stern on the cotton-wood and head on the low plac*' above the point, and came throu<'h a-boomin<^ — nine and a half" " Pretty square crossing, an't it ?" " Yes, but the upper bar's working down fast." Another pilot spoke up and said : — • " [ had better water than that, and ran it lower down ; started out from the false point — mark twain — raised the second reef abreast the big snag in the bend, and had quarter less twain." One of the i;or«'. It sobered the pilot-liousc talk a good deal. Coming up-stream, pilots did not nnnd low water or any kind of darkness ; nothing sto])i)cd them but fog. But down-stream work was different; a boat was too nearly lielpless, with a stiff current pushing behind her ; so it was not customary to run down- stream at night in low water. There seemed to be one small hope, however : if we could get* through the intricate and dangerous Hat Island crossing before night, we could venture the rest, for we would have plainer sailing and l)et- ter water. But it would be insanity to attempt Hat I^and at night. So there was a deal of looking at watches all the rest of the day, and a constant ciphering upon the speed we were making ; Hat Island was the eternal subject ; sometimes hope was high and sometimes we were delayed in a bad crossing, and down it went again. For hours all hands lay under the burden of this suppressed excitement ; it was even communicated to me, and I got to feeling sc' solicitous about Hat Island, and under such an awful pressure of responsibility, that I wished I might have five minutes on shore to draw a good, full, relieving breath, and start over again. We were standing no regular watches. Each of our pilots ran such portions of the river as he had run when coming up-stream, because of his !»' I'i 38 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. grcatt'i- familiarity with it ; but butli loniaiiied in tlic pilot-liousi; constantly. An hour heforc sunsot, Mr. B took tho wheel and Mr. W stepped aside. Fov tlie next tliirty minutes every man held his watch in his liand and was restless, silent, and uneasy. At last somebody said, with a doomful sigh : — " Well, yonder's Hat Island — and we can't make it." All the watches closed with a snap, everybody sighed and muttered something about its being " too bad, too bad — ah, if we could ovly have got here lialf an hour .socmer !" and the ]>lace was thick with .he atmosphere of disappointment. Some started to go out, but loitered, hearing no bell-ta}) to land. The sun dipped behind the horizon, the boat went on. Inquiring looks passed from one guest to another ; and one who had his hand on the door-knob, and had turned it, waited, then pre- sently took away his hand and let the knob turn back again. We bore steadily down the bend. More looks were exchanged, »nd nods of surprised admiration — but no words. Insensibly the men drew together behind Mr. B as the sky dark- ened and one or two dim stars came out. The dead silence and sense of waiting became oppres- sive. Mr. B pulled the cord, and two deep, mellow notes from the big bell floated off on the night. Then a pause, and one more note was struck. The watchman's voice followed, from the hurricane deck : — ()M> TIMES ON THK MISSISSIFTI. SO " Lablnmrd loatl, tlicio ! Stal)boanl load !" The cries of the leadsmon he<^an to rise out of the distance, and were gnittly repeated by the word- passi^'s on tlio hurricane dt'ck. " M-a-r-k three ! M-a-r-k tliree ! Quarter-less- three I Half twain ! Quarter twain I M-a-r-k twain I Quarter-less" — Mr. B pulled two bell-ropes.and was answered by faint jiui^liiiys far below in the eM^^int'-rooni, and our speed slackened. The steam be<;an to whistle tiu'ough the gauge-cocks. The cries (^f the leads- men went on — and it is a weinl sound., always, in the night. Every j)ilot in the hjt was watching, now, with fixed eyes, and talking under his l)reath. Nobody was calm and easy but Mr. B . Ho would put his wheel down and stand on a spoke, and as the steamer swung into her (to me) utterly invisible mai'ks — for we seemed to be in the midst of a wide and gloomy sea — he would meet and fasten lier there. Talk was going on, now, in low voices : — " There ; she's over the first reef all right !" After a pause, another subdued voice : — " Her stern's coming down just exactly right, by George ! Now she's in the marks ; over she goes !" Somebody else muttered : — " Oh, it was done beautiful — beautiful !" Now the engines were stopped altogether, and we drifted with the current. Not that I could see the boat drift, for 1 could not, the stars being all ^ 40 OLD TIMSS ON THE MISSISSIPPI. K^ i: . i gone by this time. This drifting was the dismalest work ; it held one's heart still. Presently I dis- cov(U'ed a blacker gloom than that which surrounded us. Tt was the head of the island. We were closini'- right down upon it. We entered its deeper shadow, and so imminent seemed the peril that I was likely to suffocate ; and I had the strongest impulse to do something, anything, to save the vessel. But still Mr. B stood by his wheel, silent, intent as a cat, and all the pilots stood shoulder to shoulder at his back. " She'll not make it !" somebody whispered. The water grew shoaler and shoaler by the leads- men's cries, till it was down to — "Eight-and-a-half! E-i-g-h-t feet! E-i-g-h-t feet ! Seven-and " — Mr. B said warningly through his speaking tube to the engineer : — " Stand by, now !" " Aye-aye, sir." "Seven-and-a-half! Seven feet ! " Noiu let her have it — every ounce you've got !" then to his partner, " Put her hard down ! snatch her 1 snatch her !" The boat rasped and ground her way through the sand, hung upon the apex of disaster a single tremendous instant, and then over she went ! And such a shout as went up at Mr. B 'u back never loosened the roof of a pilot- house before ! OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 41 Lsmalest r I dis- rounded ! closing- shadow, IS likely se to do But still mt as a lulder at red. lie leads- ll-i-2-b-t peakin a nd"- set a tube? I" re got ! snatch ground lapex of len over at Mr. pilot- There was no more trouble after that. Mr. B was a hero that night , and it was some little time, too, before his exploit ceased to be talked about by river men. Fully to realize the marvelous precision required in laying the great steamer in her marks in that murky waste of water, one should know that not only must she pick her intricate way through snags and blind reefs, and then shave the head of the island so closely as to brush the overhanging foliage with her stern, but at one place she must pass almost within arm's reach of a sunken and invisible wreck that would snatch the hull timbers from under her if she should strike it, and destroy a quarter of a million dollars' worth of steamboat and cargo in hve minutes, and maybe a hundred and lifty human lives into the bargain. The last remark I heard that night was a com- pliment to Mr. B , uttered in soliloquy and with unction by one of our guests. He said : — " By the Shadow of Death, but he's a lightning pUot r ^ il If ill CHAPTER III. THE CONTINUED PERPLEXITIES OF «*CUB" PILOTING. At the end of what seemed a tedious while, I had managed to pack my head full of islands, towns, bars, "points," and bends; and a curiously inani- mate mass of lumber it was, too. However, inas- much as I could shut my eyes and reel off a good long string of these names without leaving out more than ten miles of river in every fifty, I began to feel that I could take a boat down to New Or- leans if I could make her skip those little gaps. But of course my complacency could hardly get start enough to lift my nose a trifle into the air, before Mr. B would think of something to fetch it down again. One day he turned on me suddenly with this settler : " What is the shape of Walnut Bend ? " He might as well have asked me my grand- mother's opinion of protoplasm, I reflected respect- fully, and then said I didn't know it had any parti- 42 i;sife-ffi»«^'^*«^'"'-/' vx^ OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 43 'CUB" hile, I had ds, towns, sly inani- 5ver, inas- ff a good ving out , I began New Or- ttle gaps. ardly get the air, thing to d on me grand- respect- [ny parti- cular shape. My gunpowdery chief went off with a bang, of course, and then went on loading and firing until he was out of adjectives. I had learned long ago that he only carried just so many rounds of ammunition, and was sure to subside into a very placable and even remorseful old smooth-bore as soon as they were all gone. That word " old " is merely affectionate ; he was not more than thirty-four. I waited. By and by he said, — " My boy, you've got to know the shape of the river perfectly. It is all tliere is left to steer by on a very dark night. Everything else is blotted out and gone. But mind you, it has'nt the same shape in the night that it has in the day-time." " How on earth am I ever going to learn it, then ? " " How do you follow a hall at home in the dark ? Because you know the shape of it. You can't see it." " Do you mean to say that I've got to know all the million trifling variations of shape in the banks of this interminable river as well as I know the shape of the front hall at home ? " " On my honor you 've got to know them better than any man ever did know the shapes of the halls in his own house." " I wish I was dead ! " " Now I don't want to discourage you, but " — " Well, pile it on me ; I might as well have it DOW as another time." 44 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPL !'! 1 " You see, this has got to be learned ; there is n't any getting around it. A clear starlight night throws such heavy shadows that if you did n't know the shape of a shore perfectly you would claw away from every bunch of timber, because you would take the black shadow of it for a solid cape ; and you see you would be getting scared to death every fifteen minutes by the watch. You would be fifty yards from shore all the time when you ought to be within twenty feet of it. You can't see a snag in one of those shadows, but you know exactly where it is, and the shape of the river tells you when you are coming to it. Then there's your pitch dark night ; the river is a very different shape on a pitch dark night from what it is on a starlight night. All shores seem to be straight lines, then, and mighty dim ones, too ; and you d run them for straight lines, only you know better. You boldly drive your boat right into what seems to be a solid, straight wall (you knowing very well that in reality there is a curve there), and that wall falls back and makes way for you. Then there's your grey mist. You take a night when there's one of these grisly, drizzly, grey mists, and then there is n't any parti- cular shape to a shore. A gray mist would tangle the head of the oldest man that ever lived. Well, then, different kinds of moonlight change the shape of the river in different ways. You see " — " Oh, don't say any more, please ! Have I got to Learn the shape of the river according to all these OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 45 Te is n*t it night I't know ,w away 1 would pe; and ih every be fifty ht to be snag in y where hen you ch dark a a pitch ght. AU mighty straight Lve your straight ty there ick and ev mist, i grisly, y parti- tangle Well, e shape '. got to 11 these five hundred thousand different ways ? If I tried to carry all that cargo in my head it would make me stoop-shouldered.'* " No ! you only learn the shape of the river ; and you learn it with such absolute certainty that you can always steer by the shape that's in your headM and never mind the one that's before your eyes." " Very well, I'll try it ; but after I have learned it can I depend on it ? Will it keep the same form and not go fooling around ? " Before Mr. B could answer, Mr. W came in to take the watch, and he said, — " B , you'll have to look out for President's Island and all that country clear away up above the Old Hen and Chickens. The banks are caving and the shape of the shores changing like every- thing. Why, you would'nt know the point above 40. You can go up inside the old sycamore snag, now."i So that question was answered. Here were leagues of shore changing shape. My spirits were down in the mud again Two things seemed pretty apparent to me. One was, that in order to be a pilot a man had got to learn more than any one man ought to be allowed to know ; and the other was, that he must learn it all over again in a differ- ent way every twenty-four hours. That ni(^ht we had the watch until twelve. Now I It may not be necessary, but still it can do no harm to explain that " inside " means between the snag and the shore, — M. T. '%. ^1 i 46 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. it was an ancient river custom for the two pilots to chat a bit when the watch changed. While the relieving pilot put on his gloves and lit his cigar, his partner, the retiring pilot, would say something like this : — " I judge the upper bar is making down a little at Hale's Point ; had quarter twain with the lower lead and mark twain i with the other." " Yes, I thought it was making down a little, lant trip. Meet any boats ? " "Met one abrest the head of 21, but she was away over hugging the bar, and I could n't make her out entirely I took her for the Sunny South — had n't any skylights forward of the chimneys." And so on. And as the relieving pilot took the wheel his partner^ would mention that we were in such-and-such a bend, and say we were abreast of viuch-and-such a man's wood-yard or plantation. This was courtesy ; I supposed it was necessity. But Mr. W came on watch : all twelve minutes late, on this particular night — a tremendous breach of etiquette ; in fact, it is the unpardonable sin among pilots. So Mr. B gave him no greeting whatever, but simply surrendered the wheel and marched out of the pilot-house without a word. I was appalled ; it was a villainous night for black- ness, we were in a particular wide and blind part 1 Two fathoms. Quarter twain is 2^ fathoms, 13^ feet, three is three fathoms. 2 ** Partner" is technical for *' the other pilot." Mark -¥ I I 1 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 47 pilots to tiile the is cigar, mething L a little 16 lower btle, last jhe was 't make Y South ineys." ook the were in reast of utation. cessity. ninutes breach 3le sin ■reeting el and ord. I black- id part t. Mark of the river, where there was no shape or substance to anything, and it seemed incredible that Mr. h — should have left that i)oor fellow to kill the boat trying to find out where he was. But I resolved that I would stand by him any way. He should find that he was not wholly friendless. So I stood around, and waited to be asked where we were. But Mr. W plunged on serenely through the solid firmament of black cats that stood for an at- mosphere, and never opened his mouth. Here is a proud devil, thought I ; here is a limb of Satan that would rather send us all to destruction than put himself under obligations to me, because I am not yet one of the salt of the earth and privileged to snub captains and lord it over everything dead and alive in a steamboat. I presently climbed up on the bench ; I did not think it was safe to go to sleep while this lunatic was on watch. However, I must have gone to sleep in the course of time, because the next thing I was aware of was the fact that day was breaking, Mr. W gone, and Mr. B at the wheel again. So it was four o'clock and all well — but me; 1 felt like a skinful of dry bones and all of them trying to ache at once. Mr. B asked me what I had stayed up there for. I confessed that it was to do Mr. W a benevo- lence ; tell him where he was. It took five minutes for the entire prepostero sness of the thing to filter into Mr. B 's system, and then I judge it filled him nearly up to the chin; because he prid me a 48 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPL ti { I compliment — and not much of one either. He said, — " Well, taking you by-and-large, you do seenr to be more different kinds of an ass than any creature I ever saw before. What did you suppose he want- ed to know for ?" I said I thought it might be a convenience to him. " Convenience ! Dash ! Didn't I tell you that a man's got to know the river in the night the same as he'd know his own front hall ? " " Well, I can follow the front hall in the dark if I know it is the front hall ; but suppose you set me down in the middle of it in the dark and not tell me which hall it is ; how am / to know ? " " Well you've got to, on the river I " " All right. Then I'm glad I never said anything to Mr. W ." " I should say so. Why, he'd have slammed you through the window and utterly ruined a hundred dollars' worth of window-sash and stuff." I was glad this damage had been saved, for it would have made me unpopular with the owners. They always hated anybody who had the name of being careless, and injuring things. I went to work, now, to learn the shape of the river ; and of all the eluding and ungraspable ob- jects that ever I tried to get mind or hands on, that was the chief I would fasten my eyes upon a sharp wooded point that projected far into the river some 1 li '^s ahead of me, and go to laboriously photograph- .# OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 49 r. He eeir to Feature 3 want- to him. that a 3 same lark if set me ot teU j^thing id you mdred for it ivners. me of )f the le ob- i, that sharp some rapji- ing its shape upon my brain ; and just as I was be- ginning to succeed to my satisfaction, we would draw up toward it and the exasperating thing would begin to melt away and fold back into the bank ! If there had been a conspicuous dead tree standing upon the very point of the cape, I would find that tree inconspicuously merged into the general forest, and occupying the middle of a straight shore, when I got abreast of it. No prominent hill would stick to its shape long enough for me to make up my mind what its form really was, but it was as dissolving and changeful as if it had been a mountain of butter in the hottest corner of the tropics. Nothing ever had the same shape when I was coming down stream that it had borne when I went up. I mentioned these little difficulties to Mr. B . He said, — " That's the very main virtue of the thing. If the shapes didn't change every three seconds they wouldn't be of any use. Take this place where we are now, for instance. As long as that hill over yonder is only one hill, I can boom right along the way I'm going, but the moment it splits at the top and forms a V, I know I've got to scratch to star- board in a hurry, or I'll bang this boat's brains out asfainst a rock: and then the moment one of the prongs of the V swings behind the other, I've got to waltz to larboard again, or I'll have a misunder- standing with a snag that would snatch the keelson out of this steamboat as neatly as if it were a silver in your hand. If that hill did n't change its shape 50 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. on bad nights there would bean awful steamboa\) grave-yard around here inside of a jear." It was plain that I had got to learn the shape of the river in all the different ways that could be thought of, — upside down, wrong end first, inside out, fore-and-aft, and " thortships," — and then know what to do on gray nights when it had'nt any shape at all. So I set about it. In the coui-se of time I began to get the best of this knotty lesson, and my self-complacency moved to the front once more. Mr. B was all fixed, and ready to start it to the rear again. He opened on me after this fashion : — "How much water did we have in the middle crossing at Hole-in-the-Wall, trip before last ? " 1 considered this an outrage. I said : " Every trip, down and up, the leadsmen are sing- ing through that tangled place for three quarters of an hour on a stretch. How do you reckon I can remember such a mess as that ? " " My boy, you've got to remember it. You've got to remember the exact spot and the exact marks the boat lay in when we had the shoalest water, in every one of the two thousand shoal places between St. Louis and New Orleans ; and you mus n't get the shoal soundings and marks of one trip mixed up with the shoal soundings and marks of another, either, for they're not often twice alike. You must keep them separate." When I came to myself again, I said, — " When I get so that I can do that, I'll be able to If OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 51 amboa\> ihape of ould be t, inside in know iy shape ftime I on, and se more, t to the bion : — middle ''6 sing- rters of I can 've got rks the ier, in jtween jet the :ed up lother, I must ible to raise the dead, and tlien I won't have to pilot a steam- boat in order to make a living. I want to retire from this business. I want a slush-bucket and a ])rush ; I'm only fit for a roustabout. I have n't got brains enough to be a pilot ; and if I had I would n't liave stxcngth enough to carry them around, unless I went on crutches." " Now drop that ! When I say I'll learn* a man the river I mean it. And you can depend on it I'll learn him or kill him." There was no use in arguing with a person like this. I promptly put such a strain on my memory that by and by even the shoal water and the countless crossing marks began to stay with me. But the result V as just the same. I never could more than get one knotty thing learned before another presented itself. Now I had often seen pilots gazing at the water and pretending to read it as if it were a book ; but it was a book that told me nothing. A time came at last, however, when Mr, B seemed to think me far enough advanced to bear a lesson on water-read- ing. So he began : — " Do you see that long slanting line on the face •£ the water ? Now that's a reef. Moreover, it's a bluff reef. There is a solid sand-bar under it that is nearly as straight up and down as the side of a house. There is plenty of water close up to it, but mighty little on top of it. If you were to hit it you would knock the boat's brains out. Do you see wb'^re the I *' Teach " is not in the river vocabulary. 52 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. line fringes out at the upper end and begins to fade away ? " " Yes, sir." " Well, that is a low place ; that is the head of the reef You can climb over there, and not hurt any- thing. Cross over, now, and follow along close under the reef — easy water there — not much current." I followed the reef along till I approached the fringed end. Then Mr. B said, — " Now get I'eady. Wait till I give the word. She won't want to mount the reef; a boat hates shoal water. Stand by — wait — wait — keep her well in hand. Now cramp her down ! Snatch her! snatch her ! " He seized the other side of the wheel and helped to spin it around until it was hard down, and then we held it so. The boat resisted and refused to answer for a while, and she next came surging to starboard, mounted the reef, and sent a long, angry ridge of water foaming away from her bows. " Now watch her ; watch her like a cat, or she '11 get away from you. When she fights strong and the tiller slips a little, in a jerky, greasy sort of way, let up on her a trifle ; it is the way she tejls you at night that the water is too shoal ; but keep edging her up, little by little toward the point. You are well up on the bar, now ; there is a bar under every point, because the water that comes down around it forms an eddy and allows the sedi- ment to sink. Do you see those fine lines on the OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 53 ns to fade iad of the lurt any- 3se under •ent." chad the le word, at hates her well !•! snatch i helped nd then used to ging to f, angry • r she '11 >ng and sort of he teJLs it keep point. a bar comes e sedi- 3n the face of the water that branch out like the ribs of a fan ? Well, those are little reefs ; you want to just miss the ends of them, but ryn them pretty close. Now look out — look out ! Don't you crowd that slick, greasy-looking place ; there am't nine feet there ; she won't stand it. She begins to smell it ; look sharp, I tell you ! Oh blazes, there you go ! Stop the starboard wheel ! Quick ! Ship up to back ! Set her back ! " The engine bells jingled and the engines ans- wered promptly, shooting white colu*.. ns of steam far aloft out of the scape pipes, but it was too late. The boat had " smelt " the bar in good earnest ; the foamy ridges that radiated from her bows sud- denly disappeared, a great dead swell came rolling forward and swept ahead of her, she careened far over to larboard, and went tearing away toward the other shore as if she were about scared to death. We were a good mile from where we ought to have been, when we finally got the upper hand of her again. During the afternoon watch the next day, Mr. B asked me if I knew how to run the next few miles. I said ; — " Go inside the first snag above the point, out- side the next one, start out from the lower end of Higgins's wood-yard, make a square crossing and"— " That's all right. I *11 be back before you close ap on the next point *" I' s; r, ! 54 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. But he was n't. He was still below when I rounded it and entered upon a piece of river which I had some misgivings about. I did not know that he was hiding behind a chimney to see how I would perform. I went gayly along, getting prouder and prouder, for he had never left the boat in my sole charge such a length of time before. I even got to "setting" her and letting the wheel go, entirely, while I vain-gloriously turned my back inspected the stern marks and hummed a tune, a sort of easy indifference which I had prodigiously admired in B and other great pilots. Once I inspected rather long, and when I faced to the front again my heart flew into my mouth so sud- denly that if I had n't clapped my teeth together I would have lost it. One of those frightful bluff reefs was stretching its deadly length right across our bows : My head was gone in a moment ; I did not know which end I stood on ; I gasped and could not get my breath ; I spun the wheel down with such rapidity that it wove itself together like a spider's web ; the boat answered and turned square away from the reef, but the reef followed her ! I fled, and still it followed — still it kept right across my bows ! I never looked to see where I was going, I only fled. The awful crash was imminent — why didn't that villain come ! If I committed the crime of ringing a bell, I might get thrown overboard. But better that than kill the boat. So in blind desperation I started such a I OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 55 rattling " shivaree " clown below as never had astounded an engineer in this world before, I fancy. Amidst the frenzy of the bells the engines began to back and fill in a furious way, and my reason for- sook its throne — we were about to crash into the woods on the other side of the river. Just then Mr. B stepped calmly into view on the huricane deck. My soul went out to him in gratitude. My distress vanished ; I would have felt safe on the brink of Niagara, with Mr. B on the hurricane deck. He blandly and sweetly took his tooth-pick out of his mouth between his fingers, as if it were a cigar, — we were just in the act of climbing an overhanging big tree, and the passengers were scudding astern like rats, — and lifted up these com- mands to me ever so gently : — " Stop the starboard. Stop the larboard. Set her back on both." The boat hesitated, halted, pressed her nose among the boughs a critical instant, then reluctant- ly began to back away. " Stop the larboard. Come ahead on it. Stop the starboard. Come ahead on it. Point her for the bar." I sailed away as serenely as a summer's morn ing. Mr. B came in and said, with mock sim- plicity,— " When" you have a hail, my boy, you ought to tap the big bell three timee before you land, so that the enginsers can get ready." 56 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSI-'IPPI. 1^ KM- I I blushed under the sarcasm, and said I had n't had any hail. " Ah ! Then it was for wood,. I suppose. The officer of the watch will tell you when he wants to wood up." I went on consuming, and said I was n't after wood. " Indeed ? Why, what could you want over here in the bend, then ? Did you ever know of a boat following a bend up-stream at this stage of the river ? " "No, sir, — ^and / was n't trying to follow it. I was getting away from a bluff reef " No, it was n't a bluff reef ; there is n't one within three miles of where you were." " But I saw it. It was as bluff as that one yonder." " Just about. Run over it ! '' " Do you give it as an order ? " " Yes. Run over it ! " " If I don't, I wish I may die." " All right ; I am taking the responsibility." I was just as anxious to kill the boat, now, as I had been to save her before. I impressed my orders upon my memory, to be used at the inquest, and made a straight break for the reef. As it dis- appeared under our bows I held my breath ; but we slid over it like oil. " Now don't you see the difference ? It was n't anything but a wind reef. The wind does that." OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 57 " So I see. But it is exactly like a bluff reef. How am I ever going to tell them apart ? " ** I can't tell you. It is an instinct. By and by you will just naturally know one from the other, but you never will be able to explain why or how you know them apart." It turned out to be tnie. The face of the water, in time became a wonderful book — a book that was a dead language to the uneducated passenger, but which told its mind to me without reserve, deliver- ing its most cherished secrets as clearly as if it ut- tered them with a voice. And it was not a book to be read once and thrown aside, for it had a new story to tell every day. Throughout the long twelve hundred miles there was never a page that was void of interest, never one that you could leave unread without loss, never one that you would want to skip, thinking you could find higher en- joyment in some other thing. There never was so wonderful a book written by man; never one whose interest was so absorbing, so unflagging, so sparklingly renewed with every re-perusal. The passenger who could not read it was charmed with a peculiar sort of faint dimple on its surface (on the rare occasions when he did not overlook it alto- gether) ; but to the pilot that was an italicized passage ; indeed, it was more than that, it was a legend of the largest capitals with a string of shout- ing exclamation points at the end of it ; for it meant that a wreck or a rock was buried there that could y 58 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. tear the life out of the strongest vessel that ever floated. It is the faintest and simplest expression the water ever makes, and the most hideous to a [)ilot's eye. In truth, the passenger who could not read this book saw nothing but all manner of pretty pic f ires in it, painted ^ y the sun and shaded by the clouds, whereas to iLe trained eye these were not pictures at all, but the grimmest and most dead-earnest of reading-matter. Now when I had mastered the langua?" =i of this water and had come to know every trifling feature that bordered the great river as familiarly as I knew the letters of the alphabet, I had made a valuable acquisition. But I had lost something, too. I had lost something which could never be re- stored to me while I lived. All the grace, the beauty, the poetry had gone out of the majestic river ! I still keep in mind a certain wonderful sunset which I witnessed when steamboating was new to me. A broad expanse of the river was turned to blood ; in the middle distance the red hue brightened into gold, through which a solitary log came floating, black and conspicuous ; in one place a long, slanting mark lay sparkling upon the water ; in another the surface was broken by boil- ing, tumbling rings, that were as many-tinted as an opal ; where the ruddy flush was faintest, was a smooth spot that was covered with graceful circles and radiating lines, ever w delicately traced ; the shore on our left was densely wooded, and thu OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 69 that ever expression deous to a 3 could not manner of and shaded [ eye these jt and most a<~=i of this ling feature liliarly as I lad made a something, never be re- grace, the he majestic 1 wonderful Doating was liver was ,uce the red h a solitary ous ; in one ng upon the ven by boil- tinted as an Qtest, was a iceful circles traced; the 3d, and th'j sombre shadow that fell from tliis forest was broken in one place by a long, milled trail that nhone like silver ; and high above the forest wall a clean- stemmed dead tree waved a single leafy bough that glowed like a flame in the unobstructed splendor that was glowing from the sun. There were grace- ful curves, reflected images, woody heights, soft dis- tances ; and over the whole scene, far and near, the dissolving liglits drifted steadily, enriching it, every passing moment, with new marvels of coloring. I stood like one bewitched. I drank it in, in a speechless rapture. The world was new to me, and I had never seen anything like this at home. But as I have said, a day came when I began to cease noting the glories and the charms which the moon and the sun and the twilight wrought upon the river's face ; another day came when I ceased alto- s^ether to note them. Then, if that sunset scene had been repeated, I would have looked upon it without rapture, and would have commented upon it, inwardly, after this fashion: This sun means that we are going to have wind to-morrow ; that floating log menns that the river is rising, small thanks to it ; that slanting mark on the water re- fers to a bluff reef which is going to kill somebody's steamboat one of these nights, if it keeps on stretch- ing out like that ; those tumbling " boils " show a dissolving bar and a changing channel there ; the lines and circles in the slick water over yonder are a warning that that execrable place is shoaling up 60 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. ' |) I |) ft dangerously ; that silver streak in the shadow of the forest is the " break " from a new snag, and he has located himself in the very best place he could have found to lish for steamboats ; that tall, dead tree, with a single living branch, is not going to last long, and then how is a body ever going to get through this blind place at night without the friejidly old landmark ? No, the romance and the beauty were all gone from the river. All the value any feature of it had for me now was the amount of usefulness it could furnish toward compassing the safe piloting of a steamboat. Since those days, I have pitied doctors from my heart. What does the lovely flush in a beauty's cheek mean to a doctor but a "break" that ripples above some deadly disease ? Are not all her visible charms sown thick wi^h what are to him the signs and symbols of bidder decay ? Does he ever see her beauty at all, or does n't he simply view her professionally, and comment upon her un- wholesome condition all to himself ? And does n't he sometimes wonder whether he has gained most or lost most by learning his trade ? i li^TaBii^ shadow of aag, and he ce he could t tall, dead 3t going to joing to get rithout the CHAPTER IV. 3re all gone ire of it had ess it could iloting of a tied doctors ^^ flush in a a " break " i ? Are not what are to !cay ? Does t he simply pon her un- bid does n't gained most THE "CUB" PILOT'S EDUCATION NEARLY COMPLETED. , , Whosoever has done me the courtesy to read my chaptei-s which have preceded this may possibly wonder that I deal so minutely with piloting as a science. It was the prime purpose of these articles ; and I am not quite done yet. I wish to show, in the most patient and painstaking way, what a won- derful science it is. Ship channels are buoyed and lighted, and therefore it is a comparatively easy un- dertaking to learn to run tiiem ; clear-water rivers, with gravel bottoms, change their channels very gradually, and therefore one needs to learn them but once ; but piloting becomes another matter when you apply it to vast streams like the Missis- sippi and the Missouri, whose alluvial banks cave and change constantly, whose snags are always hunting up new quarters, whose sand-bars are never at rest, whose channels are forever dodging and shirking, and whose obstructions must be con- fronted in all nights and all weathers without the 61 62 OLD TIMES ON THE MTSSISRIPPL aid of a single light-house or a single buoy; for there is neither light nor buoy to be found any- where in all this three or four thousand miles of villainous river. I feel justified in enlarging upon this great science for the reason that I feel sure no one has ever yet written a paragra])h about it who had piloted a steamboat himself, and so had a prac- tical knowledge of the subject. If the theme were hackneyed, I should be obliged to deal gently with the reader ; but since it is wholly new, I have felt at liberty to take up a (Considerable degree of room with it. When I had learned the name and position of every visible feature of the river ; when I had so mastered its shape that I could shut my eyes and trace it from St. Louis to New Orleans ; when I had learned to read the face of the water as one would cull the news from the morning paper ; and finally, when I had trained my dull memory to treasure up an endless array of soundings and cross- ing-marks, and keep fast hold of them, I judged that my education was complete : so I got to tilting my cap to the side of my head, and wearing a tooth- pick in my mouth at the wheel. Mr. B had his eye on these airs. One day he said, — "What is the height of that bank yonder, at Burgess's ? " " How can I tell, sir ? It is three quarters of a mile away.'" " Very poor eye — very poor. Take the glass." I|^9isn%« OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 63 » I took the glass, and presently said, — " I can't till. I suppose that that bank is about a foot and a half high." " Foot and a half I That 's a six-foot bank. How high was the bank along here last trip ? " " I don't know ; I never noticed." " You did n't ? Well, you must always do it hcreaftar." " Why ? " " Because you '11 have to know a good many things that it tells you. For one thing, it tells you the stage of the river — tells you whether there 's more water or less in the river along here than there was last trip." " The leads tell me that." I rather thought I had the advantage of him there. "Yes, but suppose the leads lie ? The bank would tell you so, and then you 'd stir those leads- men up a bit. There was a ten-foot bank here last trip, and there is only a six-foot bank now. What does that signify ?" " That the river is four feet higher than it was last trip." ' " Very good. Is the river rising or falling ? " " Rising." " No it ain't.'' " I guess I am right, sir. Yonder is some drift- wood floating down the stream." " A rise starts the drift-wood, but then it keeps on floating a while after th^ river is done rising. II ii it 1 1 1 64 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. Now the bank will tell you about this. Wait till you come to a place where it shelves a little. Now here ; do you see this narrow belt of fine sediment ? That was deposited while the water was higher. You see the drift-wood begins to strand, too. The bank helps in other ways. Do you see that stump on the false point ? " " Ay, ay, sir." " Well, the water is just up to the roots of it. You must make a note of that." " Why ? " " Becaijse that means that there 's seven feet in the chute of 103." " But 103 is a long way up the river yet." " That 's where the benefit of the bank comes in. There is water enough in 103 noiv, yet there may not be by the time we get there ; but the bank will keep us posted all along. You don't run close chutes on a falling river, up-stream, and there are precious few of them you are allowed to run at all down- stream. There 's a law of the United States against it. The river may be rising by the time we get to 103, and iri*that case we '11 run it. We are draw- ing — how much ? " " Six feet aft, — six and a half forward." " Well, you do seem to know something." " But what I particularly want to know is, if I have got to keep up an everlasting measuring of the banks of this river, twelve hundred miles, month in and month out ? " OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPL 65 " Of course ! " My emotions were too deep for words for a while. Presently I said, — " And how about these chutes ? Are there many of them ? " "I should say so. I fancy we shan't run any of the river this trip as you 've ever seen it run before — so to speak. If the river begins to rise again, we '11 go up behind bars that you 've always seen standing out of the river, high and dry like the roof of a house ; we '11 cut across low places that you've never noticed at all, right through the mid- dle of bars that cover fifty acres of i iver ; we '11 creep through cracks where you 've always tliought was solid land ; we '11 dart through the woods and leave twenty-five miles of river otf to one side; we '11 see the hind-side of every island between New Orleans and Cairo." " Then I 've got to go to work and learn just as much more river as I already know." " Just about twice as much more, as near as you can come at it." " Well, one lives to find out. I think I was a fool when I went into this business." " Yes, that is true. And you are yet. But you '11 not be when you Ve learned it." " Ah, I never can learn it." " I will see that you do." By and by I ventured again : — " Havel got to learn all this thing just as I know ■^ OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. the rest of the river — shapes and all — and so 1 can run it at night? " " Yes. And you Ve got to have good fair marks from ofte end of the river to the other, that will help the bank tell you when there is water enough in each of tliij.se countless places, — like that stump, you know. When the river first begins to rise, you can run half a dozen of the deepest of them ; when it rises a foot more you can run another dozen ; tlie next foot will add a couple of dozen, and so on: so you see you have to know your banks and marks to a dead moral certainty, and never get them mixed ; for when you start through one of those cracks, there's no backing out again, as there is in the big river ; you've got to go through, or stay there six months if you get caught on a falling river. There are about fifty of these cracks which you can't run at all except when the river is brim full and over the banks." " This new lesson is a cheerful prospect." " Cheerful enough. And mind what I've just told you ; when you start into one of those places you've got to go through. They are too narrow to turn around in, too crooked to back out of, and the shoal water is always tt^? at the head ; never else- where. And the head of them is always likely to be filling up, little by little, so that the marks you reckon their depth by, this seaKOii, may not answer for next." " Learn a new set, then, every year ?" «£**-. I OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 67 can " Exactly. Cramp her up to the l)ar ! What are you standing up through the middle of the river for ?" The next few mont'is showed me strange things. On the same day that we held the conversation above narrated, we met a great rise coming down the river. The whole vast face of the stream was black with drifting dead logs, broken boughs, and great trees that had caved in and been washed away. It required the nicest steering to pick one's way through this rushing raft, even in the day- time, when crossing from point to point; and at night the ditKculty was mightily increased ; every now and then a huge log, lying deep in the water, would suddenly appear right under our bows, coming head-on ; no use to try to avoid it then; we could only stop the engines, and one wheel would walk over that log from one end to the other, keeping up a thundering racket and careening the boat in j, way that was very uncomfortable to pas- sengers. Now and then we would hit one of these sunken logs a rattling bang, dead in the centre, with a full head of steam, and it would stun the boat as if she had hit a continent. Sometimes this log would lodge and stay right across our nose, and back the Mississippi up before it ; we would have to do a little craw-fishing, then, to get away from the obstruction. We often hit ivhite logs, in the dark, for we could not see them till we were right on them ; but a black log in a pretty distinct object 68 OLD TIMES ON TIIE MISSISSIPPI. at night. A white snag is an ugly customer when the daylight is gone. Of course, on the great rise, down came a swarm of prodigious timber-ral'Ls from the head waters of the Mississippi, coal barges from Pittsburgh, little trading scows from eveiywliere, and broad-horns from " Posey County," Indiana, freighted with " fruit and furniture " — the usual term for describ- ing it, though in plain English the freight thus aggrandized was hoop-poles and pumpkins. Pilots bore a mortal hatred to these craft ; and it was returned with usury. The law required all such helpless traders to keep a light burning, but it was a law that w^as often broken. All of a sadden on a murky night a light would hop up, right under our bowSj almost, and au agonized voice, with the backwoods " whang " to it, would wail out : " Whar 'n the you goin' to ! Cain't you see nothin', you dash-dashed aig-suckin', sheep-stealin', one-eyed son of a stuffed monkey !" Then for an instant, as we whistled by, the red glare from our furnaces would reveal the scow and the form of the gesticulating orator as if under a lightning flash, and in that inst?ini our firemen and deck-hands would penJ and receive a tempest of missiles a^d profanity, one of our wheels would wj'lk off with the crashing fragments of a steering- oar, and down the dead blackness would shut again. And that flatboatman would be sure to go into New Orleans and sue our boat, swearing stoutly that he OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 69 had a light burning all the time, when in truth his gang had the lantern down below to sing and lie and drink and gamble by, and no watch on deck. Once, at night, in one oi' those forest-bordered crevices (behind an island) which stoaniboatiucn intensely describe with the phrase "a:; (hxrk as tlie inside of a cow," we should have eaten up a Posey County family, fruit, furniture, and all, but that they happened to be tiddliug down below and we just caught the sound of the music in time to sheer off, doing no serious damage, unfortunately, but coming so near it that we had good hopes for a moment. These people brought up their lantern, then, of course ; and as we backed and filled to get away, the precious family stood in the light of it — both sexes and various ages — and cursed us till everything turned blue. Once a coal-boatman sent a bullet through our pilot-house, when we borrowed a steering-oar of him, in a very narrow place. During this big rise these small-fry craft were , an intolerable nuisance. We were running chute after chute, — a new world to me, — and if there was a particularly cramped place in a chute, we were . pretty sure to meet a broad-horn there ; and if he failed to be there, we would find him in a still worse locality, namely, the head of the chute, on the shoal water. And then there would be no end of profane cordialities exchanged. Sometimes, in the big river, when we would be f. r feeling our way cautiously along through a fog, the 70 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. deep hush would suddenly be broken by yells and a clamor of tin pans, and all in an instant a log raft would appear vaguely through the webby veil, close upon as ; and then we did not wait 'to swap knives, but snatched our engine bells out by the roots and piled on all the steam we had, to scramble out of the way ! One does n't hit a rock or a solid log raft with a steamboat when he can get excused. You will hardly believe it, but many steamboat clerks always carried a large assortment of religious tracts with them in those old departed steamboat- ing days. Indeed they did. Twenty times a day we would be cramping up around a bar, while a string of these small-fry rascals were drifting down into the head of the bend away above and beyond us a couple of miles. Now a skiff would dart away from one of them and come lighting its laborious way across the desert of water. It would " ease all," in the shadow of our forecastle, and the pant- ing oarsman would shout, " Gimme a pa-a-per !'* as the skiff drifted swiftly astern. The clerk would throw over a file of New Orleans journals. If these were picked up without comment, you might notice that now a dozen other skiffs had been drift- ing down upon us without saying anything. You understand, they had been waiting to see how No. 1 was going to fare. No. 1 making no comment, all the rest would bend to their oars and come on, and as fast as they came the clerk would now heave over neat bundles of religious tracts tied to <■ i M OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 71 Us and b a log )y veil, swap by the ramble a solid xcused. amboat 3ligious ^mboat- is a day while a g down beyond :t away Dorious 'ease le pant- » •a-per t would als. If might n diift- You ow No. mment, 3me on, would tied to 1 shingles. The amount of hard swearing which twelve packages of religious literature will com- mand when impartially divided up among twelve raftsmen's crews, who have pulled a heavy skiff two miles on a hot day to get them, is simply in- credible. As I have said, the big rise brought a new world under my vision. By the time the river was over its banks we had forsaken our old paths and were hourly climbing over bars that had stood ten feet out of water before ; we were shaving stumpy shores, like that at the foot of Madrid Bend, which I had always seen avoided before ; we were clat- tering through chutes like that of 82, where the opening at the foot was an unbroken wall of timber till our nose was almost at the ver}'- spot. Some of these chutes were utter solitudes. The dense, un- touched forest overhung botl? banks of the crooked little crack, and one could believe that human crea- tures had never intruded there before. The sv/ing- ing grape-vines, the grassy nooks and vistas glimpsed as we swept by, the flowering creepers waving their red blossoms from the tops of dead trunks, and all the spendthrift richness of the forest foliage, were wasted and thrown away there. The chutes were lovely places to steer in ; they were deep, except at the head; the current was gentle; under the "points" the water was absolutely dead, and the invisible banks so bluff that where the tender willow thickets pi^jected you could buiy your boat's broadside in 72 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. I them as you tore along, and then you seemed fairly to fly. Behind other islands we found wretched little farms, and wretcheder little log-cabins ; there were crazy rail-fences sticking a foot or two above the water, with one or two jeans-clad, chills-racked, yellow-faced male miserables roosting on the top- rail, elbows on knees, jaws in hands, grinding to- bacco and discharging the result at floating chips through crevices left by lost milk-teeth ; while the rest of the family and the few farm animals were huddled together in an empty wood-flat riding at her moorings close at hand. In this flatboat the family would have to cook and eat aiid sleep for a lesser or greater number of days (or possibly weeks), until the river should fall two or three feet and let them get back to their log-cabin and their chills again — chills being a merciful provision of an all- wise Providence to enable them to take exercise without exertion. And this sort of watery camp- ing out was a thing which these people were rather liable to be treated to a couple of times a year : by the December rise out of the Ohio, and the June rise out of the Mississippi. And yet these were kindly dispensations, for they at least enabled the poor things to rise from the dead now and then, and look upon life when a steamboat went by. They appreciated the blessing, too, for they spread their mouths and eyes wide open, and made the most of these occasions. Now v/hat could these banished OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 73 }d fairly id little 3re were Dove the -racked, the top- iing to- ig chips hile the lis were iding at )oat the ep for a weeks), I and let chills an all- exercise camp- rather ear: by le June e were )led the en, and They d their iiost of inished •^.. creatures find to do to keep from dying of the blues during the low- water season ! Once, in one of these lovely island chutes, we found our course completely bridged by a great fallen tree. This will serve to show how narrow some of the chutes were. The passengers had an hour's recreation in a virgin w'Merness, while the boat-hands chopped the bridge away ; for there was no such thing as turning back, you comprehend. From Cairo to Ej,ton Rouge, when the river is over its banks, you have no particular trouble in the night, for the thousand-mile wall of dense forest that guards the two banks all the way is only gap- ped with a farm or wood-yard opening at intervals, and so you can't " get out of the river " much easier than you could get out of a fenced lane ; but from Baton Rouge to New Orleans it is a different matter. The river is more than a mile wide, and very deep — as much as two hundred feet, in places. Both banks, for a good deal over a hundred miles, are shorn ot their timber and bordered by continuous sugar plantations, with only here and there a scatter- ing sapling or row of ornamental China-trees. The timber is shorn off clear to the rear of the plantations, from two to four miles. When the first frost threat- ens to come, the planters snatch off their crops in a hurry. When they have finished grinding the cane, they form the refuse of the stalks (which they call bagasse) into great piles and set fire to them, though in other sugar countries the bagasse is used for fuel 6 ♦ 74 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI, in the furnaces of the sugar mills. Now the piles of damp bagasse bum slowly, and smoke like Satan's own kitchen. An embankment ten or fifteen feet high guards both banks of the Mississippi all the way down that lower end of the river, and this embankment is' set back from the edge of the shore from ten to perhaps a hundred feet, according to circumstances; say thirty or forty feet, as a general thing. Fill that whole region with an impenetrable gloom of smoke from a hundred miles of burning bagasse piles, when the river is over the banks, and turn a steamboat loose along there at midnight and see how she will feel. And see how you will feel too ! You find yourself away out in the midst of a vague dim sea that is shoreless, that fades out and looses itself in the murky distances ; for you cannot discern the thin rim of embankment, and you are always imagining you see a straggling tree when you don't. The plantations themselves are transformed by the smoke and look like a part of the sea. All through your watch you are tortured with the exquisite misery of uncertainty. You hope you are keeping in the river, but you do not know. All that you are sure about is that you are likely to be within six feet of the bank and destruction, when you think you are a good half mile from shore. And you are sure, also, that if you chance suddenly to fetch up against the embankment and topple your chimneys overboard, you will have the small' comfort of know- 1^ \ OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSTPPl. 75 lie piles Satan's guards wn that it is' set perhaps es ; say 'ill that if smoke 3S, when eamboat she will [on find dim sea itself in lern the always 3U don't, by the through xquisite [keeping [hat you within lU think I you are itch up limneys t know- ing that it is about what you were expecting to do. One ol the great Vicksburg packets darted out into a sugar plantation one night, at such a time, and had to stay there a week. But there was no novelty about it ; it had often been done before. I thought I had finished this number, but I wish to add a curious thing while it is in my mind. It is only relevant in that it is connected with pilot- ing. There used to be an excellent pilot on the river, a Mr. X., who was a somnambulist. It was said that if his mind was troubled about a bad piece of river, he was pretty sure to get up and walk in his sleep and do strange things. He was once lellow-pilot for a trip or two with George E , on a great New Orleans passenger packet. During a considerable part of the first trip George was uneasy, but got over it by and by, as X. seemed content to stay in his bed when asleep. Late one night the boat was approach- ing Helena, Arkansas ; the water was low, and the crossings above the town in a very blind and tangled condition. X. had seen the crossing since E had, and as the night was particularly drizzly, sul- len, and dark, E was considering whether he had not better have X. called to assist in running the place, when the door opened and X. walked . in. Now on very dark nights, light is a deadly enemy to piloting ; you are aware that if you stand in a lighted room, on such a night, you cannot see things in the street to any purpose ; but if you put out the lights and stand in the gloom you can make out i' , \ 76 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. objects in the street pretty well. So, on very dark nights, pilots do not smoke ; they allow no fire in the pilot-house stove if there is a crack which can allow the least ray to escape ; they order the furna- ces to be curtained with huge tarpaulins and the sky- lights to be closely blinded. Then no light what- ever "^uej f 'om the boat. The undefinable shape that ir dp tered the pilot-house had Mr. X.*s voice. This sa. . — " Let me take her, Mr. E : I Ve seen this place since you have, and it is so crooked that I reckon I can run it myself easier than I could tell you how to do it." " It is kind of you, and I swear I am willing. I havo n't got another drop of perspiration left in me. T ha^e been spinning around and around the wheel like a squirrel. It is so dark I can 't tell which way she is swinging till she is coming around like a whirligig." So E took a seat on the bench, panting and breathless. The black phantom assumed the wheel, without saying anything, steadied the waltzing steamer with a turn or two, and then stood at ease, coaxing her a little to this side and then to that, as gently and as sweetly as if the time had been noon- day. When E observed this marvel of steering, he wished he had not confessed ! He stared, and wondered, and finally said, — " Well, I thoLicrht I knew how to steer a steam- boat, but that was another mistake of mine." OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 77 'y dark fire in ich can ) furna- he sky- ) what- e shape 's voice. is place eckon I du how [ing. I b in me. B wheel Lch way like a ng and wheel, waltzing Qth ease^ that, as Q noon- eering, 3d, and steam- X. said nothing, but went serenely on with his work. He rang tor the leads; he rang to slow down the steam ; he worked the boat earofully and neatly into invisible marks, then stood at the centre of the wheel and peered blandly out into the blackness, fore and aft, to verify his position ; as the leads shoal- ed more and more, he stopped the engines entire- ly, and the dead silence and suspense of " drifting " followed ; when the shoalest water was struck, he cracked on the steam, carried her \andsomely over, and then began to work her wanly nto the next system of shoal marks : the san.e patient, heedful use of leads and engines followed, the boat slipped through without touching bof^om, and entered upon the third and last intricacy oi i^he crossing : imper- ceptibly she moved through the gloom, crept by inches into her marks, drifted tediously till the shoalest water was cried, and then, under a tremen- dous head of steam, went swinging over the reef and away into deep water and safety ! E let his long-pent breath pour out in a great, relieving sigh, and said : "That's the sweetest piece of piloting that was ever done on the Mississippi River ! I would n't be- lieved it could be done, if I had n't seen it." There was no reply, and he added : — " Just hold her five minutes longer, partner, and let me run down and get a cup of cofi'ee." A minute later E was biting into a pie, down in the " texas," and comforting himself with coffee. I'i 78 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. Just then the night watchman happened in, and was about to happen out again, when he noticed E and exclaimed, — "Who is at the wheel sir?" " X." "Dart for the pilot-house, quicker than lightning!" The next moment both men were aying up the pilot-house companion way, three steps at a jump ! Nobody there ! The great steamer was whistling down the middle of the river at her own sweet will ! The watchman shot out of the place again ; E seized the wheel, set an engine back with power, and held his breath while the boat reluctantly swung away from a " towhead " which she was about to knock into the middle of the Gulf of Mexico ! By and by the watchman came back and said, — " Did n't that lunatic tell you he was asleep, when he first came up here ? " " No." " Well, he was. I found him walking along on top of the railings, just as unconcerned as another man would walk a pavement ; and I put him to bed ; now just this minute there he was again, away astern, going through that sort of tight-rope deviltry the same as before " " Well, I think I '11 stay by, next time he has one of those fits. But I hope he '11 have them often. You just ought to have seen him take this boat through Helena crossing. / never saw anything so gaudy before. And if he can do such gold -leaf, kid-glove, diamond-breasfcpin piloting when he is sound asleep, what could iit he do if he was dead !" I .■»r<»^>>.««»»M«i.». > Pi. n »»-- " iy»«s»^ , and was d E htning!" g up the a jump ! s^histling eet will ! ;E wer, and T swung ibout to ico! said, — p, when long on another him to away eviltry n las one often. s boat }' thing Id-leaf, he is lead !" CHAPTER V. "SOUNDING." FACULTIES PECUr.IARLY NECES- SARY TO A PILOT. When the river is very low, and one's steamboat is " drawing all the water " there is in the channel, — or a few inches more, as was often the case in the old times, — one must be painfully circumspect in his piloting. We used to have to " sound " a number of particularly bad places almost every trip when the river was at a very low stage. Sounding is done in this way. The boat ties up at the shore, just above the shoal crossing; the pilot not on watch takes his " cub " or steersman and a picked crew of men (sometimes an officer also), and goes out in the yawl — provided the boat has not that rare and sumi)tuous luxury, a regularly- devised " sou.nding-boat " — and proceeds to hunt for tlie best water, the pilot on duty watching his movements through a spy-glass, meantime, and in some instances assisting by signals of the boat's whistle, signifying " try liigher up " or " try lower down ;" for the surface of the water, lilce an oil- 79 I I: I! 80 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. painting, is more exproasive and intelligible when inspected from a little distance than very close at hand. The whistle signals are seldom necessary, however ; never, perhaps, except when the wind confuses the significant ripples upon the water's surface. When the yawl has reached the shoal place, the speed is slackened, the pilot begins to sound the depth with a pole ten or twelve feet long, and the steersman at the tiller obeys the order to " hold her up to starboard ;" or "let her fall to lar- board ;"' or " steady — steady as you go." When the measurements indicate that the yawl is approaching the shoalest part of the reef, the command is given to " ease all !" Then the men stop rowing and the yawl drifts with the current. The next order is, " Stand by with the buoy !" The moment the shallowest point is reached the pilot delivers the order, " Let go the buoy !" and over she goes. If the pilot is not satis- fied, he sounds the place again ; if he finds better water higher up or lower down, he removes the buoy to that place. Being finally satisfied, he gives the order, and all the men stand their oars straight up in the air, in line ; a blast from the boat's whistle indicates that the signal has been seen ; then the men " give way " on their oars aiid lay the yawl alongside the buoy ; the steamer comes creeping carefully down, is pointed straight at the I The term '* larboard " is never used at sea, now, to signify the left hand ; but was always used on the river in my time, OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPIM. 81 5 when close at jessary, B wind water's ) shoal gins to Bt long, >rder to to lar- e yawl )ef, the le men surrent. buoy !" eached )uoy !" satis- better es the Bd, he r oars m the been rs aiid comes at the nify the I m buoy, husbands her power for the coining struggle, and presently, at the critical moment, turns on all her steam and goes grinding and wallowing over the buoy and the sand, and gains the deep water beyond. Or maybe she does n't ; maybe she " strikes and swings." Then she has to while away several hours (or days) sparring herself otf. Sometimes a buoy is not laid at all, but the yawl goes ahead, hunting the best water, and the steamer follows along in its wake. Often there is a deal of fun and excitement about sounding, especially if it is a glorious summer day, or a blusturing night. But in winter the cold and the peril take most of the fun out of it. A buoy is nothing but a board four or five feet long, with one end turned up ; it is a reversed boot- jack. It is anchored on the shoalest part of the reef by a rope with a heavy stone made fast to the end of it. But for the resistance of the turned-up end, the current would pull the buoy under water At night a paper lantern with a candle in it is fast- ened on top of the buoy, and this can be seen a mile or more, a little glimmering spark in the waste of blackness. Nothing delights a cub so much as an oppor- tunity to go out sounding. There is such an air of adventure about it ; often there is danger ; it is so gaudy and man-of-war-like to sit up in the stern-sheets and steer a swift yawl ; there is some- thing fine about the exultant spring of the b at ' r 1! 82 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. when an experienced old sailor crew throw their souls into the oars ; it is lovely to see the white foam stream away from the bows ; there is music in the rush of the water ; it is deliciously exhilarat- ing, in summer, to go speeding over the breezy expanses of the river when the world of vrav^lets is dancing in the sun. It is such grandeur, too, to the cub, to get a chance to give an order ; for often the pilot will simply say, " Let her go about !" and leave the rest to the cub, who instantly cries, in his sternest tone of command, " Ease starboard ! Strong on the larboard ! Starboard give way ! With a will, men !" The cub enjoys sounding for the further reason that the eyes of the passengers are watching all the yawl's movements with absorbing interest, if the time be daylight ; and if it be night he knows that those same wondering eyes are fast- ened upon the yawl's lantern as it glides out into the gloom and fades away in the remote distance. One trip a pretty girl of sixteen spent her time in our pilot-house with her uncle and aunt, every day and all day long. I fell in love ^ith her. So did Mr. T 's cub, Tom G . Tom and I had been bosom friends until this time ; but now a cool- ness began to arise. I told the girl a good many of my river adventures, and made myself out a good deal of a hero; Tom tried to make himself appear to be a hero, too, and succeeded to some extent, but then he always had a way of embroidering. However, virtue is its own reward, so I was !a barely percep- }' OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 83 w their white music tiilarat- breezy av^lets ir, too, er ; for ibout !" Y cries, [•board ! !With for the ers are 5orbing 3 night e fast- lit into mce. r time every r. So I had a cool- any of L good rtobe fc then vever, urcep- tible trifle ahead in the contest. About this time something happened which promised handsomely ijr me : the pilots decided to sound the crossing at the head of 21. This would occur at nine or ten o'clock at night, when the passengers would bu still up; it would be Mr. T 's watch, therefore my chief would have to do the sounding. We had a perfect love of a sounding-boat — long, trim, grace- ful, and as fleet as a greyhound ; her thwarts were cushioned ; she carried twelve oarsmen ; one of the mates was always sent in her to transmit orders to her crew, for ours was a steamer where no end of " style " was put on. We tied up at the shore above 21, and got ready. It was a foul night, and the river was so wide, there, that a landsman's uneducated eyes could dis- cern no opposite shore through such a gloom. The passengers were alert and interested ; everything was satisfactory. As I hurried through the engine- room, picturesquely gotten up in storm toggery, I met Tom, and could not forbear delivering myself of a mean speech • — " Aint you glad yow don't have to go out sound- ing? Tom was passing on, but he quickly turned, and said, — " Now just for that, you can go and get the sounding-pole yourself I was going after it, but I 'd see you in Halifax, now, before I 'd do it." " Who wants you to get it ? / dont. It 's in Ihc soundinsf-boat." 84 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 'i .' '■ I " It ain't, either. Its been new-painted ; and it *s been up on the lady's-cabin guards two days, drying." I flew back, and shortly arrived among the crowd of watching and wondering ladies just in time to hear the command ; " Give way, men ! " I looked over, and there wa.« the gallant sound- ing-boat booming away, the unprincipled Tom pre- siding at the tiller, and my chief sitting by him with the sounding-pole which I had been sent on a fool's errand to fetch. Then that young girl said to me, — " Oh, how awful to have to go out in that lit- tle boat on such a night ! Do you think there is any danger ? " I would rather have been stabbed. I went off full of venom, to help in the pilot-house. By and by the boat's lantern disappeared, and after an in- terval a wee spark glimmered upon the face of the water a mile away. Mr. T blew the whistle, in acknowledgment, backed the steamer out, and made for it. We flew along for awhile, then slack- ened steam and went cautiously gliding toward the spark. Presently Mr. T exclaimed, — '* Hello, the buoy-lantern's out ! " He stopped the engines. A moment or two later he said — " Why, there it is again ! " So he came a head on the engines once more, and 't" two OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 85 ;•! in 4 rang for the leads. Gradually the watei- shoaled up, and then began to deepen again I Mr. T — muttered : " Well, I don't understand this. I believe that buoy has drifted off the reef Seems to be a little too far to the left. No matter, it is safest to run over it, anyhow.'' So, in that solid world of darkness, we went creeping down on the li_nht. Just as our bows were in the act of plow^ing over it, Mi*. T seized the bell-ropes, rang a startling peal, and exclaim- ed, — " My soul, it's the sounding-boat ! " A sudden chorus of wild alarms burst out far below — a pause — and then a sound of grinding and crashing followed. Mr. T exclaimed, — " There ! the paddle-wheel has ground the sound- ing-boat to lucifer matches ! Run ! See who is killed ! " I was on the main deck in the twinkling of an eye. My chief and the third mate and nearly all the men were safe. They had discovered their danger when it was too late to pull out of the way ; then, when the great guards overshadowed them a moment later, they were prepared and knew what to do ; at my chief's order they sprang at the right instant, seized the guard, and were hauled aboard. The next moment the sounding yawl swept aft to the wheel and was struck and splintered to atoms. Two of the men and the cub Tom, were missing — ) m 86 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSItsl^Tri. a lact which spread like wild-fire ov.t the boat. The passengers came flocking to the forward gang- way, ladies and all, anxious-eyed, white-faced, and talked in awed voices of the dreadiai thing. And often and again I heard them say, " Poor fellows ! poor boy, poor boy ! " By this time the boat's yawl was manned and away, to search for the missing. Nov/ a faint call was heard, off to the left. The yawl had disap- peared in the other direction. Half the people rushed to one side to encourage the swimmer with their shouts ; the f ther half rushed the other way to shriek to the yawl to turn about. By the call- ings, the swimmer was approaching, but soiixci said the sound showed failing strength. The crowd massed themselves against the boiler-deck railings, leaning over and staring into the gloom : and every faint and fainter cry wrung from them sisci words as " Ah, poor fellow, poor fellow ! is there no way to save him ? " But still t\o cries h^, '^ ' « ut, r^nd drew nearer, and presently the voice said piuckily, — " I can make it ! Stand by with a rope ! " What a rousing cheer they gave him ! The chief mate took his stand in the glare of a torch- basket, a coil of rope in his hand, and his men grouped about him. The next moment the sv/im- mer's face appeared in the circle of light, and in an- other one the owner of it was hauled aboard, limp «vL'd drenched, while cheer on cheer went up. It wa;> that devU Tom. i OLD TIMES ON liiE MISSISSTPPT. 37 The It The yawl crew searchea everywhere, but found no sign of the two men, They probably failed to catch the guard, tumbled back, and were struck by the wheel and killed. Tom had never jumped for the guard at all, but had phmged head-tirst into the river and dived under the wheel. It was no- thing ; I could have done it easy enough, and I said so ; but every body went on just the same, making a wonderful to-do over that ass, as if ho had done something great. That girl could n't seem to have enough of that pitiful " hero " the rest of the trip ; but little 1 cared ; I loathed her, any way. The way we came to mistake the sounding- boat's lantern for the buoy-light was this. My chief said that after laying the buoy he fell away and watched it till it seemed to be secure ; then he took up a position a hundred yards below it and a little to one side of the steamer's course, headed ti^e sounding-boat up-stream, and waited. Havir i;0 wait some time, he and the officer got to talkuifr ; he looked up when he judged that the steamer was about on the reef; saw that th( buoy was g but supposed that the steamei- had already run over it ; he went on with his talk ; he noticed that the steamer was getting very close down on him, but that was the correct thing , it was her business to shave him closely, for convenience in taking him aboard ; he was expecting her to sheer off, until the last moment ; then it Hashed upon him that she ssl 88 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. was tryii-g to run him down, mistaking his lantern for the buoy-light ; so he sang out, " Stand by to spring for the guard, men ! " and in the next in- stant the jump was made. But I am wandering from what I was intending to do, that is, make plainer than perhaps appears in my previous papers, some of the peculiar require- ments of the science of piloting. First of all, there is one faculty which a pilot must incessantly culti- vate until he has brought it to absolute perfection. Nothing short of perfection will do. That faculty is memory. He cannot stop with merely thinking a thing is so and so ; he must know it ; for this is eminently one of the " exact " sciences. With what scorn a pilot was looked upon, in the old times, if he ever ventured to deal in that feeble phrase " I think," instead of the vigorous one " I know ! " One cannot easily realize what a tremen- dous thing it is to know every trivial detail of twelve hundred miles of river and know it with absolute exactness. If you will take the longest street in New York., and travel up and down it, comii ng its features patiently until you know every house and window and door and lamp-post and big and iittle sign by a^^t, and know them so accurately that yoi' can instantly name the one you are abreast of wh ,n you are set down at random in that street in the middle of an inky black night, you will then have a tolerable notion of the ampunt and the ex- actness of a pilot's knowledge who carries the Mis- OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 89 lantern id by to aext in- itending appears require- 11, there ly culti- rfection. faculty hinking ' this is With the old t feeble <( one tremen- etail of it with longest lown it, ¥ every and big surately abreast t street ill then the ex- le Mis- j^ sissippi River in his head. And then if you will go on until you know every street crossing, the character, size, and position of the crossing stones, and the varying depth of mud in each of those numberless places, you will have some idea of what the pilot must know in order to keep a Mississippi steamer out of trouble. Next, if you will take half of the signs in that long street, and change their places once a month, and still manage to know their new positions accurately on dark nights, and keep up with these repeated changes without mak- ing any mistakes, you will understand what is re- quired of a pilot's peerless memory by the fickle Mississippi. I think a pilot's memory is about the most wonderful thing in the world. To know the Old and New Testaments by heart, and be able to recite them glibly, forward or backward, or begin at random anywhere in the book and recite both ways and never trip or make a mistake, is no extravagant mass of knowledge, and nu marvelous facility, compared to a pilot's massed knowledge of the Mississippi and his marvelous facility in the handling of it. I make this comparison deliberately, and I believe I am not expanding the truth when I do it. Many will think m}'^ figure too strong, but pilots will not. And how easily and comfortably the pilot's memory does its work ; how placidly effortless is its v/ay ! how wncoiiscwudy it lays up its vast m 90 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. I i I stores, hour by hour, day by day, and never loses or niislayg a single valuable package of them all ! Take an instance. Lot a leadsman cry, " Half twain ! half twain ! half twain ! half twain ! half twain !" until it becomes as monotonous as the ticking of a clock ; let conversation be going on all the time, and the pilot be doing his share of the talking, and no longer listening to the leadsman ; and in the midst of this endless string: of ha,lf twains let a single " quarter twain !" be interjected, with- out emphasis, and then the half twain cry go on again, just as before : two or three weeks later that pilot can describe with precision the boats position in the river when that quarter twain was uttered, and give you such a lot of head marks, stern- marks, and side-marks to guide you, that you ought to be able to take the boat there and put her in that same spot again yourself! The cry of quarter twain did not really take his mind from his talk, Tut his trained faculties instantly photo- graphed the bearings, noted the change of depth^ and laid up the important details for future refer- ence without requiring any assistance from him in the matter. If you were walking and talking with a friend, and another friend at your side kept up a monotonous repetition of the vowl sound A, for a couple of blocks, and then in the midst interjected an E,, thus. A, A, A, A, A, R, A, A, A, etc., and <;avo the R no emphasis, you would not be able to statj, two or three v/ceks afterwuiJ, that the R .^-3. OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 91 ver loses n lem all! :i; ', "Half in ! half as the 1 \g on all e of the idsman ; f twains d, with- Y go on ter that position uttered, , stern- > at you put her cry of d from photo- depth ) refer- iim in y with t up a for a jected ., and ble to the R had been put in, nor be able to tell what objects you were passing at the moment it was done. But you C(Mild if your memory had been patiently and laboriously tranied to do that sort of thing mechan- ically. Give a man a tolerably fair memory to start with, and piloting will develoj) it into a very colossus of oa])ability. But o)il}/ in the matters it is daily drilled in. A time would come when the man's faculties could not help noticing land- marks and soundings, and his memory could not help holding on to them with the grip of a vice ; but if you asked that same man at noon what he had for breakfast, it would be ten chances to one that he could not tell you. Astonishing things can be done with the human memory if you will devote it faithfully to one particular line of business. At the time that wages soared so high on the Missouri River, my chief, Mr. B , went up there and learned more than a thousand miles of that stream with an ease and rapidity that were astonishing. When he had seen each division ot^ce in the daytime and once at night, his education was so nearly complete that he took out a " day- light license , a few trips later he took out a full license, and went to piloting day and night — and he ranked A 1, too. Mr. B placed me as steersman for a while under a pilot whose feats of memory were a con- stant marvel to me. However, his memory was 92 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. I ' born in him, I think, not built. For instance, somebody would mention a name. Instantly Mr. J would break in : — "Oh, I knew him. Sallow-faced, red-headed fellow, with a little scar on the side of his throat like a splinter under the ttesh. He was only in the Southern trade six months. That was thirteen years ago. I made a trip with him. There was five feet in the upper river then ; the Honry Blake grounded at the foot of Tower Island, drawing four and a half ; the George Elliott unshipped her rudder on the wreck of the Sunflower " — " Why, the Sunflower did'nt sink until " — " / know wlien she sunk ; it was three years before that, on the 2d of December; Asa Hardy was captain of her, and his brother John was first clerk; and it was his first trip in her, too; Tom Jones told me these things a week afterward in New Orleans ; he was first mate of the Sunflower. Captain Hardy stuck a nail in his foot the 6th of July of the next year, and died of the lock; aw on the 15th. His brother John died two years after, — 3d of March, — erysipelas. I never saw either of the Hardys, — they were Alleghany River men, — but people who knew them told me all these things. And they said Captain Hardy wore yarn socks winter and summer just the same, and his first wife's name was Jane Shook, — she was from New England, — and his second one die^ in a lunatic asylum. It was in the blood. She was from Lex- I ',U OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 9S f infjton, Kentucky. Name was Horton before she was married." And HO on, by the hour, the man's tongue would go. He could 7iot forget anything. It was simply impossible. The most trivial details remained as distinct and luminous in his head, after they had lain ther(^ tor years, as the most memorable events. His was not simply a pilot's memory ; its grasp was universal. If he were talking about a trifling letter he had received seven years before, he was pretty sure to deliver you the entire screed from memory. And then, witliout observing that he was departing from the true line of his talk, he was more than likely to hurl in a long-drawn par- enthetical biography ol the writer of that letter ; and you were lucky indeed if he did not take up that writer's relatives, one by one, and give you their biographies, too. Such a memory as that is a gi'eat misfortune. To it, all occurrences are ol the same size. Its posses- sor cannot distinguish an interesting circumstance from an uninteresting one. As a talker, he is bound to clog his narrative with tiresome details and make himself an insufferable bore. Moreover, he cannot stick to his subject. He picks up every little grain of memory he discerns in his way, and so is led aside. Mr. J would start out with the honest intention of telling you a vastly funny anecdote about a dog. He would be " so full of laugh" that he could hardly begin ; then his memory would IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // ^ .5^ 1.0 I.I \\J25 i 1.4 ■50 ■^™ imB mm 1^2 m 1.6 Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. MSEO (716) S72-4S03 \ iV SJ A \ 94 OLD Ti:,IES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. start with the dog's breed and personal appearance; drift into a history of his owner; of his owner's family, with descriptions of weddings and burials that had occurred in it, together with recitals of congratulatory verses and obituary poetry provoked by the same; then this memory would recollect that one of these events occurred during the cele- brated " hard winter " of such and such a year, and a minute description of that winter would follow, along with the names of people who were frozen to death, and statistics showing the high figures which pork and hay went up to. Pork and hay would suggest com and fodder; com and fodder would suggest cows and horses ; the latter would suggest the circus and certain celebrated bare-back riders ; the transition from the circus to the menagerie was easy and natural ; from the elephant to equatorial Africa was but a step ; then of course the heathen savages would suggest religion ; and at the end of three or four hours' tedious jaw, the watch would change and J would go out of the pilot-house muttering extracts from sermons he had heard years before about the efficacy of prayer as a means of grace. And the original first mention would be all you had learned about that dog, after all this wait- ing and hungering. A pilot must have a memory ; but there are two higher qualities which he must also have. He must have good and quick judgment and decision, and a cool, calm courage that no peril can shake. Give a OT.D TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 95 jarance; owner's burials itals of ovoked ecollect le cele- ar, and follow, 3zen to which would would uggest riders ; ie was atorial 3athen end of would ■house years ms of be all wait- B two must md a ive a man the merest trifle of pluck to start v/ith, and by the time ho has become a pilot he cannot be unman- ned by any danger a steamboat can get into; but one cannot quite say the same for judgment. Judg- ment is a matter of brains, and a man must start with a good stock of that article or he will never succeed as a pilot. The growth of courage in the pilot-house is steady all the time, but it does not reach a high and satisfactory condition until some time after the young pilot has been " standing his own watch," alone and under the staggering weight of all the responsibilities connected with the position. When an apprentice has become pretty thoroughly acquain- ted with the river, he goes clattering along so fear- lessly with his steamboat, night or day, that he presently begins to imagine that it is his courage that animates him ; but the fii-st time the pilot steps out and leaves him to his own devices he finds out it was the other man's. He discovers that the article has been left out of his own cargo altogether. The whole river is bristling with exigencies in a moment ; he is not prepared for them ; he does not know how to meet them ; all his knowledge for- sakes him ; and within fifteen minutes he is as white as a sheet and scared almost to death. There- fore pilots wisely train these cubs by various strat- egic tricks to look danger in the face a little more calmly. A favorite way of theirs is to play a friendly bwindle upon the candidate. tx:i r'/ 96 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. Mr. B served me in this fashion once, and for years afterwards I used to blush even in my sleep when I thought of it. I had become a good steers^ man ; so good, indeed, that I had all the work to do on our watch, night or day ; Mr. B seldom made a suggestion to me ; all he ever did was to take the wheel on particularly bad nights or in par- ticularly bad crossings, land the boat when she needed to be landed, play gentleman of leisure nine tenths of the watch, and collect the wages. The lower river was about bank-full, and if anybody had questioned my ability to run any crossing be- tween Cairo and New Orleans without help or in- struction, I should have felt irreparably hurt. The idea of being afraid of any crossing in the lot, in the day-time, was a thing too preposterous for con- templation. Well, one matchless summer's day I was bowling down the bend above island 66, brim full of self-conceit and carrying my nose as high as a giraffe's, when Mr. B said, — "I am going below a while. I suppose you know the next crossing ? " This was almost an aflfront. It was about the plainest and simplest crossing in the whole river. One could n't come to any harm, whether he ran it right or not ; and as for depth, there never had been any bottom there. I knew all this, perfectly well. Know how to run it ? Why, I can run it with my eyes shut." '■^^ OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 97 3, and for my sleep 3d steers- ) work to —seldom d was to )r in par- rhen she 3ure nine es. The anybody ssing he- lp or in- rt. The le lot, in for con- 8 day I tnd 66, nose as •se you )ut the river, ran it er had srfectly t with '.;?; " How much water is there in it ? " " Well, that is an odd question. I could n't get bottom there with a church steeple." . "You think so, do you?" The very tone of the question shook my confi- dence. That was what Mr. B was expecting. He left, without saying anything more. I began to imagine all sorts of things. Mr. B , unknown to me, of course, sent somebody down to the fore- castle with some mysterious instruction to the leadsmen, another messenger was sent to whisper among the officers, and then Mr. B went into hiding behind a smoke-stack where he could ob- serve results. Presently the captain stepped out on the hurricane dock ; next the chief mate appeared ; then a clerk. Every moment or two a straggler was added to my audience ; and before I got to the head of the island I had fifteen or twenty people assembled down there under my nose. I began to wonder what the trouble was. As I started across the captain glanced aloft at me and said, with a sham uneasiness in his voice, — "Where is Mr. B V* " Gone below, sir." But that did the business for me. My imagina- tion began to construct dangers out of nothing, and they multiplied faster than I could keep the run of them. All at once I imagined I saw shoal water ahead! The wave of coward agony that surged through me then came near dislocating every ■?5 08 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. joint in me. All my confidence in that crossing vanished. I seized the bell-rope ; dropped it, ashamed ; seized it again ; dropped it once more ; clutched it tremblingly once again, and pulled it so feebly that I could hardly hear the stroke myself. Captain and mate sang out instantly, and both to- gether, — " Starboard lead there ! and quick about it ! ** This was another shock. I began to climb the wheel like a squirrel ; but I would hardly get the boat started to port before I would see new dangers on that side, and away I would spin to the other ; only to find perils accumulating to starboard, and be crazy to get to port again. Then came the leadsman's sepulchral cry : — " D-ee-p four ! " Deep four in a bottomless crossing ! The terror of it took my breath away. " M-a-r-k three ! M-a-r k three ! Quarter less three ! Half twain ! " This was frightful ! I seized the bell-ropes and stopped the engines. " Quarter twain ! Quarter twain ! Mark twain !" I was helpless. I did not know what in the world to do. I was quaking from head to foot, and I could have hung my hat on my eyes, they stuck out so far. " Quarter less twain ! Nine and a half ! " We were drawing nine! My hands were in a nerveless flutter. I could not ring a bell intelliffiblv th ",'Jr- if ■>.f,S? ■4 I. at crossing li'opped it, jnce more ; pulled it so oke myself, id both to- )ut it ! " climb the lly get the }w dangers the other ; board, and came the rhe terror larter less ropes and Ic twain !" at in the foot, and ley stuck OT.I> TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 90 / » sv^ere m a itelliffiblv with them. I flew to the speak in«jf- tube and shouted to the engineer, — " Oh, Ben, if you love me, hack her ! Quick Ben ! Oh, back the immortal soul out of her ! " I heard the door close gently. I looked around and the^'e stood Mr. B , smiling a bland, sweet smile. ThcE the audience on the hurricane deck sent uj- Si out of humiliating laughter. I sa\7 it all, now, and I felt meaner than the meanest man in human history. I laid in the lead, set the boat in her marks, came ahead on the engines, and said, — " It was a fine trick to play on an orphan u'os n't it ? I suppose I '11 never hear the last of how I was ass enough to heave the lead at the head of G6." " Well, no, you won't, maybe. In fact I hope you won't ; for I want you to learn something by that experience. Did n't you Icriow there was no bot- tom in that crossing ? " " Yes, sir, I did." " Ver^ well, then. You should n't have allowed me or anybody else to shake your confidence in that knowledge. Try to remember that. And another thing : when you get into a dangerous place, don't turn coward. That is n't going to help matters any." It was a good enough lesson, but pretty hardly learned. Yet about the hardest part of it was that for months I so often had to hear a phrase which I had conceived a particular distaste for. It was, " Oh, Ben, if you love me, back her 1 " I, t f I CHAPTER VI. OFFICIAL RANK AND DIGNITY OF A PILOT. THE RISE AND DECADENCE OF THE PILOTS' ASSOCL ATION. In my preceding articles I have trie&, by going into the minutiae of the science of piloting, to carry the reader step by step to a comprehension of what the science consists of; and at the same time I have tried to show him that it is a very curious and wonderful science, too, and very worthy of his attention. If I have seemed to love my subject, it is no surprising thing, for I loved the profession far better than any I have followed since, and I took a measureless pride in it. The reason is plain : a pilot in those days, was the only un- fettered and entirely independent huiuan being that lived in the earth. Kings are but the ham- pered servants of parliament and people ; parlia ments sit in chains forged by their constituency ; the editor of a newspaper cannot be independent, but must work with one hand tied behind him by party and patrons, and be content to utter only 100 OLD TIMES ON THE MlSSISSIPPt 101 PILOT. THE LOTS' ASSOCI. riec. by going )ting, to carry insion of what same time I very curious f^orthy of his ly subject, it e profession |since, and I e reason is e only un- iiian being it the ham- • |ple; parlia •nstituency ; dependent, lind him by utter only half or two-thirdn of his mind ; no clergyman is a free man and may speak the whole truth, regard- less of his parish's opinions ; writers of all kinds are manacled servants of the public. We write frankly and fearlessly, but then we *' modify " before we print. In truth, ever man and woman and child has a master, and worries and frets in servitude ; but in the day I write of, the Missis- sippi pilot had 7ione. The captain could stand upon the hurricane deck, in the pomp of a very brief authority, and give him five or six orders, while the vessel backed into the stream, and then that skipper's reign was over. The moment that the boat was under way in the river, she was under the sole and unquestioned control of the pilot. He could do with her exactly as he pleased, run her when and whither he chose, and tie her up to the bank whenever his judgment said that that course was best. His movements were entirely free ; he consulted no one, he received commands from nobody, he promptly resented even the merest suggestions. Indeed, the law of the United States forbade him to listen to commands or suggestions, rightly considering that the pilot necessarily knew better how to handle the boat than anybody oould tell him. So here was the novelty of a king with- out a keeper, an absolute monarch who was absolute in sober truth and not by a fiction of words. I have seen a boy of eighteen taking a great steamer serenely i'^to what seemed almost 102 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. [ I certain destruction, and the agod captain standing mutely by, filled with apprehension but powerless to interfere. His interference, in that particular instance, might have been an excellent thing, but to permit it would have been to establish a most pernicious precedent. It will easily be guessed, considering the pilot's boundless authority, that he was a great personage in the old steamboating days. He was treated with marked courtesy by the captain and with marked deference by all the officers and servants ; and this deferential spirit was quickly communicated to the passengers, too. I think pilots were about the only people I ever knew who failed to show, in some degree, em- barrassment in the presence of traveling foreign princes. But then, people in one's own grade of life are not usually embarrassing objects. By long habit, pilots came to put all their wishes in the form of commands. It " gravels " me, to this day, to put my will in the weak shape of a request, instead of launching it in the crisp lan- guage of an order. In those old days, to load a steamboat at St. Louis, take her to New Orleans and back, and dis- chLTge cargo, consumed about twenty-five days, on an average. Seven or eight of thtse days the boat spent at the wharves of St. Louis and New Orleans, and every soul on board was hard at work, except the two pilots ; they did nothing but play gentle- man, up town, and receive the same wages for it — -*-afl| PPI. OLD TIMES OX TIIK MISSlSSTPli. 103 tain Btauding lilt powerlesB at particular lit thing, but blish a most be guessed, thority, that jteamboating courtes}' by ce by all the rential spirit sengers, too. )eople I ever degree, em- eling foreign grade of life their wishes els " me, to shape of a |e crisp lan- |boat at St. ik, and dis> ^e days, on s the boat >w Orleans, >rk, except |ay gentle - iges for it r^ as if they had been on duty. The moment the boat touched the wharf at citlior city, they wore ashore ; and they were not likely to bo seen again till the last boll wns ringing and everything in readiness for another voyage. When a captain got hold of a pilot of particularly high reputation, he took pains to keep him. When wages were four hundred dollars a month on the Upper Mississippi, I have known a captain to keep such a pilot in idleness, under full pay, three months at a time, while the river was frozen up. And one must remember that in those cheap times four hundred dollars was a salary of almost in- conceivable splendor. Few men on shore got such pay as that, and when they did they were mightly looked up to. When pilots from either end of the river waii lered into our small Missouri village, they were ght by the best and the fairest, and treated w '^'alted respect. Lying in port under wages was a thing which many pilots greatly en- joyed and appreciated ; especially if they belonged in the Missouri River in the heyday of that trade (Kansas times), and got nine hundred dollars a trip, which was equivalent to about eighteen hun- dered dollars a month. Here is a conversation of that day. A chap out of the Illinois Biver, with a little stem-wheel tub, accosts a couple of ornate and gilded Missouri River pilots : — ** Gentlemen, I've got a pretty good trip for the up-country, and shall want you about a month. How much will it be ? " il -•'♦»Vr», ! I i! 104 OLD TIMES UN Till: MISSlH8irri. ** Eighteen hundred dollars apiece.**' " Heavens and earth ! You take my boat, let me have your wages, and I'll divide ! " I will remark, in passing, that Mississippi steam- boatmen were important in landsmen's eyes (and in their own, too, in a degree) according to the dignity of the boat they were on. For instance, it was a proud thing to be of the crew of such stately craft as the Aleck Scott or the Grand Turk. Negro firemen, deck hands, and barbers belonging to those boats were distinguished personages in their grade of life, and they were well aware of that fact, too. A stalwart darkey once gave offense at a negro ball in New Orleans by putting on a good many airs. Finally, one of the managers bustled up to him and said, — "Who is you, any way? Who is you? dat's what I wants to know ! " The offender was not disconcerted in the least, but swelled himself up and threw that into his voice which showed that he knew he was putting on all those airs on a stinted capital. "Who is I? Who is I? I let you know mighty quick who I is ! I want you niggers to understan' dat I fires de middle do'^ on de Aleck Scott!" That was sufficient. ' The barber of the Grand Turk was a spruce young negro, who aired his importance with balmy I Door. ..* irn. OLD TIMES ON THK MISS?"*' ?P1. 105 i»> my boat, let >» issippi steam- n's eyes (and )rdmg to the Por instance, irew of such Grand Turk. Brs belonging )er8onages in irell aware of e gave offense putting on a he managers 8 you? dat's in the least, ihat into his was putting mow mighty io understan' Scott!" as a spruce with balmy --.'] complacency, and was greiitly courted by the circle in which he moved. The young colored population of New Orleans were much given to flirting, at twilight, on the pavements of the back streets. Somebody saw and heard something like the following, one evenmg, in one of those localities. A middle-aged negro woman projected her head through a broken pane and shouted (very willing that the neighbors should hear and envy), ** You Mary Ann, come inde house dis minute! Stannin' out dab foolin' 'long wid dat low trash, an' heah's de barber off'n de Gran' Turk wants to conwerse wid you ! " My reference, a moment ago, to the fact that a pilot's peculiar official position placed him out of the reach of criticism or command, brings Stephen W naturally to my mind. He was a giffced pilot, a good fellow, a tireless talker, and had both wit and humor in him. He had a most irreverent independence, too, and was deliciously easy-going and comfortable in the presence of age, official dig- nity, and even the most august wealth. He al- ways had work, he never saved a penny, he was a most persuasive borrower, he was in debt to every pilot on the river, and to the majority of the cap- tains. He could throw a sort of splendor around a bit of harum-scarum, devil-may-care piloting, that made it almost fascinating — but not to everybody. He made a trip with good old gentle-spirited Cap- tain Y once, and was "relieved" from duty 7 vr«„ I M !■ 106 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPL when the boat got to Now Orleans. Somebody e^cpressed surprise at the discharge. Captain Y shuddered at the mere mention of Stephen. Then his poor, thin old voice piped out something like this : "Why, bless me ! I wouldn't have such a wild creature on my boat for the world — ^not for the whole world! He swears, he sings, he whistles, he yells — I never saw such an Injun to yell. All times of the night — it never made any difference to him. He would just yell that way, not for anjrthing in particular, but merely on account of a kind of devilish comfort he got out of it. I never could get into a sound sleep but he would fetch me out of bed, all in a cold sweat, with one of those dread- ful war-whoops. A queer being, — very queer being; no respect for anything or anybody. Sometimes he called me * Johnny.' And he kept a fiddle, and a cat. He played execrably. This seemed to distress the cat, and so the cat would howL Nobody could sleep where that man — and his family — was. And reckless? There never was anything like it. Now you may believe it or not, but as sure as I am- sitting here, he brought my boat a-tilting down through those awful snags at Chicot under a rattling head of steam, and the wind a-blowing ' like the very nation, at that ! My officers will tell ^ you so. They saw it. And, sir, while he was a-tearing right down through those snags, and I s shaking in my shoeb and praying, I wish I may %. ii '^m ?PI. Somebody je. Captain of Stephen. t something such a wild -not for the whistles, he 1. All times mce to him. mything in a kind of never could )tch me out fhose dread- ueer being; Sometimes ddle, and a to distress body could was. And^ e it. Now * as I am- ting down under a^ a-biowing- rs will tell: le he was ?s, and I : sh I may ' 6LD TIMES ON TBB MISSISSIPPI. lar never speak again if he didn't pucker up his mouth and go to whistling! Yes sir; whistling ^Buffalo gals, can't you come out to-night, can't you come out to-night, can't you come out to-night;' and doing it as calmly as if we were attending a funeral and weren't related to the corpse. And when I remonstrated with him about it, he smiled down on me as if I was his child, £nd told me to run in the house and try to be good, and not be meddling with my superiors ! " * Once a pretty mean captain caught Stephen in New Orleans out of work and as usual out of money. He laid steady siege to Stephen, who was in a very ''close place." and finally persuaded him to hire with him at one hundred and twenty-five dollars per month, just half wages, the captain agreeing not to divulge the secret and so bring down the contempt of all the guild upon the poor fellow. But the boat was not more than a day out of New Orleans before Stephen discovered that the captain was boasting of his exploit, and that aU' the officers had been told. Stephen winced, but said nothing. About the middle of the artemoon the captain stepped out on the hurricane deck, cast bis eye arci^nd, and looked a good deal surprised. He glanced inquiringly aloft at Stephen, but Stephen was whistling placidly, and attending to I Considering a captain's ostentatious but hollow chieftainship^ and a pilot's real authority, there was somethmg impudently apt aad happy about that way of phrasing it. ife'- I lit I .! 1^ I 108 OLD TIMES Oi; THE MISSISSIPPI. business. The captain stood around awhile in evident discomfort, and once or twice seemed about to make a suggestion; but the etiquetta of the river taught him to avoid that sort of rashness, and so he managed to hold his peace. He chafed and puzzled a few minutes longer, then retired to his apartments. But soon he was out again, and apparently more perplexed than ever. Presently he ventured to remark, with deference, — " Pretty good stage of the river now, ain't it, sir?" " Well, I should say so ! Bank-full is a pretty liberal stage." " Seems to be a good deal of current here." "Good deal don't describe it! It's worse than a mill-race." ** Isn't it easier in toward shore than it is out here in the middle ? " "Yes, I reckon it is; but a body can't be too careful with a steamboat. It's pretty safe out here ; can't strike any bottom here, you can depend on that." The captain departed, looking rueful enough. At this rate, he would probably die cf old age before his boat got to St. Louis. Next day he appeared on deck and again found Stephen faithfully standing up the middle of the river, fighting the whole vast force of the Mississippi, and whistling the same placid tune. This thing was becoming serious. In by the shore was a slower boat clipping along in the easy water and gaining steadily ; she began to '%* TI. d awhile in jemed about aettc; of the ishness, and chafed and 3tired to his again, and Presently in'tit,sir?" 18 a pretty here.** worse than m it is out 5an't be too fe out here ; depend on ul enough, d age before appeared ly standing whole vast the same ig serious, ig along in e began to OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 100 make for an island chute; Stephen stuck to the middle of the river. Speech was wrung from the captain. He said, — • ** Mr. W , don't that chute cut off a good deal of distance?" " I think it does, but i don't know." " Don't know ! Well, isn't there water enough in it now to go through 9 " " I expect there is, but I am not certain." " Upon my word this is odd ! Why, those pilots on that boat yonder are going to try it. Do you mean to say that you don't know as much as they do?" " Theyf Why, they are two-hundred-and -fifty- dollar pilots ! But don't you be uneasy ; I know as much as any man can afford to know for a hundred and twenty-five ! " Five minutes later Stephen was bowling through the chute and showing the rival boat a two-hun- dred-and-fifty-doUars pair of heels. One day, on board the Aleck Scott, my chief, Mr. B , was crawling carefully through a close place at Cat Island, both leads going, and every- body holding his breath. The captain, a nervous, apprehensive man, kept still as long as he could, but finally broke down and shouted from the hur- ricane deck, — ** For gracious' sake, give her steam, Mr. B ! give her steam ! She'll never raise the reef on this headway!" "f 110 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSI8SIPPL For ail the effects that was prodnoed apon Mr. B , one would have supposed that noremark had been made. But five minutes later, when the dan- ger was past and the leads laid in, he ibursi in- stantly into a consuming fury, and gave the cap- tain the most admirable cursing I ever listened to. No bloodshed ensued ; but that was because the captain's cause was weak : for ordinarily he wap not a man to take correction quietly. Having now set forth in detail the nature of the science of piloting, and likewise described l^e rank which the pilot held among the fraternity of steam- boatmen, this seems a fitting place to say a few words about an organization which the pilots once 'formed for the protection of their guild. It was curious and noteworthy in this, that it was per- haps the compact'est, the completest, and the strongest commercial organization ever formed among men. For a long time wages had been two hundred and fifty dollars a month ; but curiously enough, as steamboats multiplied and business increased, the wages began to fall, little by little. It was easy to discover the reason of tJiis. Two many pilots were being '* made." It was nice to have a '' cub," a steersman, to do all the hard work for a couple of years, gratis, while his master sat on a high bench and smoked ; all pilots And captains had sons or brothers who wanted to be pilots. By and by it came to pass that nearly every pilot on ■•"tm 8SIPPL Inoed upon Mr. tnoremarkliad t when the dan-- I, he hvarai in- l gave the eap- ver listened to. as because the linarilj he wan B nature of the bribed the rank mitj of steam- e to say a few the pilots once guild. It was b,t it was per- test, and the ever formed two hundred Dusly enough, 3ss increased, ittle. It was Two many ce to have a rd work for a ster sat on a and captains e pilots. By irery pilot on OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. Ill the river had a steersman. When a steersraan had made an araonnt of progress that was satisfactory to any two pilots in the trade, they could get a pilot's license for him by signing an application directed to the United States Inspector. Noth- ing further was needed ; usually no questions were Msked, no proofs of capacity required. Very well, this growing swarm of new pilots pre- sently began to undermine the wages, in order to get berths. Too late — apparently — the knights of the tiller perceived their mistake. Plainly, some- thing had to be done, and quickly ; but what was to be the needful thing ? A close organization. Nothing else would answer. To compass this ' seemed an impossibility ; so it was talked, and talked, and then dropped. It was too likely to ruin whoever ventured to move in the matter. But at last about a dozen of the boldest — and some of them the best — pilots on the river launched them- selves into the enterprise and took all the chances. They got a special charter from the legislature, with large powers, under the name oi the Pilots' Benevolent Association ; elected their officers, completed their organization, contributed capital, put " association " wages up to two hundred and fifty dollars at once — and then retired to their homes, for they were promptly discharged from employment. But there were two or three un- noticed trifles in their by-laws which had the seeds 6i propagation in them. For instance, all idle 112 OLD TIMES ON THE MIS IISSIPPI. members of the associaaon, in good standing, were entitled to a pension of twenty-five dollars per month. This began to bring in one straggler after another from the ranks of the new-fledged pilots, in the dull (summer) season. Bettei have twenty- five dollars than starve ; the initiation fee was only twelve dollars, and no dues required from the un- employed. Also, the widows of deceased members in good standing could draw twenty-five dollars per month, and a certain sum for each of their children. Also, the said deceased would be buried at the associa- tion's expense. These things resurrected all the superannuated and forgotten pilots in the Missis- sippi Valley. Thoy came from farms, they came from interior villages, they came from every- where. They came on crutches, on drays, in ambulances, — any way, so they got there. They paid in their twelve dcUars, and straightway began to draw out twenty-fi/e dollars a month and calcu- late their burial bills. By and by, all the useless, helpless pilots, and a dozen first-class ones, were in the association, and nine-tenths of the best pilots out of it and laughing at it. It was the laughing-stock of the whole river. Everybody joked about the by-law requiring mem- bers to pay ten per cent, of their wages, every month, into the treasury for the support of the association, whereas all the members were outcast' and tabooed, and no one would employ themT 3IPPI. standing, were 'e dollars per straggler after iedged pilots, have twenty- 1 fee was only from the un- ibers in good rs per month, lildren. Also, the associa- ected all the i the Missis- I, they came from every- n drays, in there. They itway began 1 and calon- }ilots, and a 3iation, and nd laughing whole river, iring mem- ges, every port of the ere outcast' )loy themf}^ OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 113 Everybody was derisively grateful to the association for taking all the worthless pilots out of the way and leaving the whole field to the excellent and the deserving ; and everybody was not only jocularly grateful for that, but for a result which naturally followed, namely, the gradual advance of wages as the busy season approached. Wages had gone up from the low figure of one hundred dollars a month to one hundred and twenty-five, and in some cases •to one hundred and fifty ; and it was great fun to enlarge upon the fact that this charming thing had been accomplished by a body of men not one of whom received a particle of benefit from it. Some of the jokers use to call at the association rooms and have a good time chaffing the members and offering them the charity of taking them as steers- men for a trip, so that they could see what the forgotten river looked like. However, the associa- tion was content ; or at least it gave no sign to the contrary. Now and then it captured a pilot who was *• out of luck," and added him to its list ; and these later additions were very valuable, for they were good pilots; the incompetent ones had all been absorbed before. As buisness freshened, wages climbed gradually up to two hundred and fifty dollars — ^the association figure — and became firmly fixed there ; and still without benefiting a member of that body, for no member was hired. The hilarity at the association's expense burst aU bounds, now. There was no end to the fun whioh that poor martyr had to put up with. ! I r" 11 il4|i 114 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. However, it is a long lane that has no tnmiii TIMES OlS THE MISSISSIPPI. 129 y^ \ customary latest passenger clinging to the end of it with teeth, nails, and everything else, and the customary latest procrastinator making a wild spring shoreward over his head. Now a number of the boats slide backward into the stream, leaving wide gaps in the serried rank of steamers. Citizens crowd the decks of boats that are not to go, in order to see the sight. Steamer after steamer straightens herself up, gath- ers all her strength, and presently comes swinging by, under a tremendous head of steam, with flag flying, black smoke rolling, and her entire crew of flremen and deck-hands (usually swarthy negroes) massed together on the forecastle, the best " voice " in the lot towering from the midst (being mounted on the capstan), waving his hat or a flag, and all roaring a mighty chorus, while the parting cannons boom, and the multitudinoui^ spectators swing their hats 8;nd huzza ! Steamer after steamer falls into line, and the stately procession goes winging its way up the river. In the old times, whenever two fast boats started out on a race, with a big crowd of people looking on, it was inspiring to hear the crews sing, especi- ally if the time were night-fall, and the forecastle lit up with the red glare of the torch-baskets. Kacing was royal fun. The public always had an idea that racing was dangerous ; whereas the very opposite was the case — that is, after the laws were passed which restrict each boat to just so many "' XI 130 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. •1 pounds of steam to the square inch. No engineer was ever sleepy or careless when his heart was in a race. He was constantly on the alert, trying gauge-cooks and watching things. The dangerous place was on slow, popular boats, where the engi- neers drowsed around and allowed chips to get into the "doctor" and shut off the water supply from the boilers. In the " flush times " of steamboating, a race between two notoriously fleet steamers was an event of vast importance. The date was set for it several weeks in advance, and from that time for- ward, the whole Mississippi Valley was in a state of consuming excitement. Politics and the weather were dropped, and people talked only of the com- ing race. As the time approached, the two steam- ers " stripped " and got ready. Every encum- brance that added weight, or exposed a resisting surface to wind or water, was removed, if the boat could possibly do without it. The " spars," and sometimes even their supporting derricks, were sent ashore, and no means left to set the boat afloat in case she got aground. When the Eclipse and the A. L. Shotwell ran their great race twenty- two years ago, it was said that pains were taken to scrape the gilding off the fanciful device which hung between the Eclipse's chimneys, and that for one trip the captain left off his kid gloves and had his head shaved. But I always doubted these things. r i OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 131 If the boat was known to make her best speed when drawing five and a half feet forward and five aft, she was carefully loaded to that exact figure — she wouldn't enter a dose of homoeopathic pills on her manifest after that. Hardly any pas- sengers were taken, because they not only add weight but they never will "trim boat." They always run to the side when there is anything to see, whereas a conscientious and experienced steam- boatman would stick to the centre of the boat and part his hair in the middle with a spirit level. No way-freight and no way-passengers were allowed, for the racers would stop only at the larg- est towns, and then it would be '* only touch and go." Coal flats and wood flats were contracted for beforehand, and these were kept ready to hitch on to the flying steamers at a moment's warning. Double crews were carried, so that all work could be quickly done. The chosen date being come, and all things in readiness, the two great steamers back into the stream, and lie there jockeying a moment, and apparently watching each other's slightest move- ment, like sentient creatures ; flags drooping, the pent steam shrieking through safety-valves, the black smoke rolling and tumbling from the chim- neys and darkening all the air. People, people everywhere ; the shores, the house-tops, the steam- boats, the ships, are packed with them, and you know that the borders of the broad Mississippi are i I 132 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. going to be fringed with humanity thenoe northward twelve hundred miles, to welcome these racers. Presently tall columns of steam burst from the 'scape-pipes of both steamers, two guns boom a good-bye, two red-shirted heroes mounted on cap- stans wave their small flags above the massed crews on the forecastles, two plaintiff solos linger on the air a few waiting seconds, two mighty choruses burst forth — and here they come ! Brass bands bray Hail Columbia, huzza, afirer huzza thunders from the shores, and the stately creatures go whistling by like the wind. Those boats will never halt a moment between New Orleans and St. Louis, except for a second or two at large towns, or to hitch thirty-cord wood- boats alongside. You should be on board when they take a couple of iiiose wood-boats in tow and turn a swarm of men into each ; by the time you have wiped your glasses and put them on, you will be wondering what has become of that wood. Two nicely matched steamers will stay in sight of each other day after day. They might even stay side by side, but for the fact that pilots are not all alike, and the smartest pilots will win the race. If one of the boats has a " lightning " pilot, whose " partner " is a trifle his inferior, you can tell which one is on watch by noting whether that boat has gained ground or lost some during each four-hour stretch. The shrewdest pilot can delay a boat if he has not a fine genius for steering. OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 133 Steering is a very high art. One must not keep a rudder dragging across a boat's stern if he wants to get up the river fast. There is a marvelous difference in boats, ol course. For a long time I was on a boat that was 80 slow that we used to forget what year it was we left port in. But of course this was at rare intervals. Ferry-boats used to lose valuable trips because their passengers grew old and died, waiting for us to get by. This was at still rarer intervals. I had the documents for these occurrences, but through carelessness they have been mislaid. This boat, the John J. Roe, was so slow that when she finally sunk in Madrid Bend, it was five years before the owners heard of it. That was always a confusing Tact to me, but it is according to the record, any 'way. She was dismally slow ; still, we often had pretty exciting times racing with islands, rafts and such things. One trip, however, we did rather well. We went to St. Louis in sixteen days. But even at thi^ rattling gait I think we changed watches three times in Fort Adams reach, which is five miles long. A ** reach " is a piece of straight river, and of course the current drives through such a place in a pretty lively way. That trip we went to Grand Gulf, from New Orleans, in four days (three hundred and fortj miles, ; the Eclipse and Shot well did it in one. We were nine days out, in the chute of 63 (seven hundred miles); the Eclipse and Shotwell went 4 h. 134< OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. I > I i there in two days. Just about a generation ago a boat called the -T. M. White went from New Orleans to Cairo in tliree days, six hours, and forty- four minutes. Twenty -two years ago the Eclipse made the same trip in three days, three hours, and twenty minutes. About five years ago the superb E. E. Lee did it in three days and one hour. This last is called the fastest trip on record. I will try to show that it was not. For this reason : the dis- tance between New Orleans and Cairo, when the J. M. White ran it, was about eleven hundred and six miles ; consequently her average speed was a trifle over fourteen miles per hour. In the Eclipse's day the distance between the two ports had become reduced to one thousand and eighty miles ; conse- quently her average speed was a shade under four- teen and three-eighths miles per hour. In the E. E. Lee's time the distance had diminished to about one thousand and thirty miles ; consequently her average was about fourteen and one eighth miles per hour. Therefore the Eclipse's was conspicu- ously the fastest time that has ever been made. These dry details are of importance in one par- ticular. They give me an opportunity of intro- ducing one of the Mississippi's oddest peculiarities — that of shortening its length from time to time. If you will throw a long, pliant apple-paring over your shoulder, it will pretty fairly shape itself into an average section of the Mississippi Eiver ; that is, the nine or ten hundred iniles stretching OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 135 from Cairo, IHinois, southward to New Orleans, the same being wonderfully crooked, with a brief straight bit here and there at wide intervals. The two-hundred-mile stretch from Cairo northward to St. Louis is by no means so crooked, that being a rocky country which the river cannot cut much. The water cuts the alluvial banks of the ** lower " river into deep horseshoe curves ; so deep, indeed, that in some places if you were to get ashore at one extremity of the horseshoe and walk across the neck, half or three quarters of a mile, you could sit down and rest a couple of hours while your steamer was coming around the long elbow, at a speed of ten miles an hour, to take you aboard again. When the river is rising fast, some scoun- drel whose plantation is back in the country, and therefore of inferior value, has only to watch his chance, cut a little gutter across the narrow neck of land some dark night and turn the water into it, and in a wonderfully short time a miracle has hap- pened : to wit, the whole Mississippi has taken pos- session of that little ditch, and placed the country- man's plantation on its bank (quadruplii^ its value) and that other party's formerly valuable plantation finds itself away out yonder on a big island ; the old water course around it will soon shoal up, boats cannot approach within ten miles of it, and down goes its value to a fourth of its former worth. Watchers are kept on those narrow necks, at needful times, and if a man hap - m 136 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. J '1' i!;u pens to be caught catting a ditch across them, the chances are all against his ever having another opportunity to cut a ditch. Pray observe the effects of this ditching business. Once there was a neck opposite Port Hudson, Louisiana, which was only half a mile across, in its nairowest place. You could walk across there in fifteen minutes; but if you made the journey around the cape on a raft, you travel thirty-five miles to accomplish the same thing. In 1722 the river darted through that neck, deserted its old bed and thus shortened itself thirty-five miles. In the same way it shortened itself twenty-five mfles at Black Hawk Point in 1699. Below Bed Eiver Landing, Raccourci cut-off was made (thirty or forty years ago, I think). This shortened the river twenty-eight miles. In our day, if you travel by river from the southernmost of these three cut- offs to the northernmost, you go only seventy miles. To do the same thing a hundred and seventy-six years ago, one had to go a hundred and fifty-eight miles ! — a shortening' of eighty-eight miles in that trifling distance. At some forgotten time in the past, cut-offs were made above Vidalia, Louisi- ana; at island 92; at island 84; and at Hale's Point. These shortened the river, in the aggregate, seventy-seven miles. Since my own day on the Mississippi, I am in- formed that cut-offs have been made at Hurricane Island ; at island 100 ; at Napoleon, Arkansas ; at OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. u: Walnut Bend ; and at Council Bend. These short- ened the river, in the aggregate, sixtj'-Peven miles. In my own time a cut-off was made at American Bend, which shortened the river ten miles or more. Therefor, the Mississippi between Cairo and New- Orleans was twelve hundred and fifteen miles long one hundred and seventy-six years ago. It was eleven hundred and eighty after the cut-off of 1722. It was one thousand and forty after the American Bend cut-off (some sixteen or seventeen years ago). It has lost sixty-seven miles since. Consequently its length is only nine hundred and seventy-three miles at present. Now, if I wanted to be one of those ponderous scien- tific people, and *' let on " to prove what had occur- red in tLe remote past by what had occurred in a given time in the recent past, or what will occm* in the far future by what has occurred in late years, what an opportunity is here ! Geology never had such a chance, nor such exact data to argue from ! Nor ''development of species," either! Glacial epochs are great things, but they are vague — vague. Please observe : — In the space of one hundred and seventy-six years the Lower Mississippi has shortened itself two hundred and forty-two miles. That is an average of a trifle over one mile and a third per year. Therefore, any calm person, who is not blind or idiotic, can see that in the Old Oolitic Silu- rian Period, just a million years ago next November, 'I 1S8 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. , ■* i: ;;■ the Lower Mississippi River was upwards of one million three hundred thousand miles long, and stuck out over the Gulf of Mexico like a fishing- rod. And by the same token any person can see that seven hundred and forty -two years from now the Lower Mississippi will be only a mile and three quarters long, and Cairo and New Orleans will have joined their streets together, and be plodding com- fortably along under a single mayor and a mutual board of aldermen. There is something facinating about science. One gets such wholesale returns of conjecture out of such a trifling investment of fact. When the water begins to flow through one of those ditches I have been speaking of, it is time for the people thereabouts to move. The water cleaves the banks away like a knife. By the time the ditch has become twelve or fifteen feet wide, the calamity is as good as accomplished, for no power on earth can stop it now. When the width has reached a hundred yards, the banks begin to peel off in slices half an acre wide. The current flow- ing around the bend traveled formerly only five miles an hour ; now it is tremendously increased by the shortening of the distance. I was on board the first boat that tried to go through the cut-off at American Bend, but we did not get through. It was toward midnight, and a wild night it was — thunder, lightning, and torrents of rain. It was estimated that the current in the cut-off was mak- ing about fifteen or twenty miles {|»n hour ; twelve •4; OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 139 ■ one , and hing- a see I now three have com- Lutual lating rns of f fact. 3ne of oae for leaves le the e, the ipower has peel flow- live eased Iboard off at It as— was mak- Iwolve or thirteen was the best our boat could do, even in tolerable slack water, therefore perhaps we were foolish to try the cut-otf. However, Mr. X. was ambitious, and he kept on trying. The eddy run- ning up the bank, under the ** point," was about as swift as the current out in the middle ; so we would go flying up the shore like a lightnin,';- express train, get on a big head ot steam, and **strind by for a surge" when wc struck the cur- rent that was whirling by the point. But all our preparations were useless. The instant the current hit us it spun us around like a top, the water delu- ged the forecastle, and the boat careened so far over that one could hardly keep his feet. The next instant we v/ere away down the river, clawing with might and main to keep out of the woods. We tried the experiment four times. I stood on the forecastle companion way to see. It was astonishing to observe how suddenly the boat would spin around and turn tail the moment she emerged from the eddy and the current struck her nose. The sounding concussion and the quivering would have been about the same if she had come full speed against a sand-bank. Under the light- ning flashes one could see the plantation cabins and the goodly acres tumble into the river ; and the crash they made was not a bad effort at thun- der. Once when we spun around, we only missed a house about twenty feet, that had a light bum- ins; in the window ; and in the same instant tliat .11 in •in IS .1 140 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. house went overboard. Nobody could stay on oiir forecastle ; the water swept across it in a torrent every time we plunged athwart the current. At the end of our fourth effort we brought up in the woods two miles below the cut-off ; all the country there was overflowed, of course. A day or two later the cut-off was three quarters of a mile wide, and boats passed up it without much difficulty and so saved ten miles. The old Raccourci cut-off reduced the river's length twenty-eight miles. There used to be a tradition connected with it. It was said that a boat came along there in the night and went around the enormous elbow in the usual way, the pilots not knowing that the cut-off had been made. It was a grisly, hideous night, and all shapes were vague and distorted. The old bend had already begun to fill up, and the boat got to running away from mysterious reefs, and occasionally hitting one. The perplexed pilots fell to swearing, and finally uttered the entirely unecessary wish that they might never get out of that place. As always hap- pens in such cases, that particular prayer was answered, and the others neglected. So to this day that phantom steamer is still butting around in that deserted river, trying to find her way out. More than one grave watchman has sworn to me that on drizzly, dismal nights, he has glanced fear- fully down that forgotten river as he passed the head of the island, and seen the faint glow of the OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 141 n oiir Drrent b. At in the )untry ir two 3 "wide, ty and river's ) be a that a around ) pilots •de. It }8 were already away |ng one. finally ,t they s hap- er was to this around ay out. to me d fear- led the of the spectre steamer's lights drifting through the dis- tant gloom, and heard the muffled cough of her scape pipes and the plaintive cry of her leadsmen. In the absence of further statistics, I beor to close this series of Old Mississippi articles with one more reminiscence of wayv/ard, careless, ingenious " Ste- phen," whom I described in a former paper. Most of the captains and pilots held Stephen's note for borrowed sums ranging from two hundred and fifty dollars upward. Stepheo never paid one of these notes, but he was very prompt and very zealous about renewing them every twelvemonth. Of course there came a time, at last, when Ste- phen could no louger borrow of his ancient credi- tors ; so he was obliged to lie in wait for new men who did not know him. Such a victim was srood- heai*ted, simple-natured young Yates (I use a ficti- tious name, but the real name began as this one does with a Y). Young Yates graduated as a pilot, got a berth, and when the month was ended and ha stepped up to the clerk's office and received his two hundred and fifty dollars in crisp new bills, Stephen was there ! His silvery tongue began to wag, and in a very little while Yates's two hundred and fifty dollars had changed hands. The fact was soon known at pilot headquarters, and the amusement and satisfaction of the old creditors were large and generous. But innocent Yates never suspected thai/ Stephen's promise to pay promptly at the end of the week was a worthless one. Yates called for '♦ 142 OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. his money at the stipulated time ; Stephen sweet- ened him up and put him off a week. He called then, according to agreement, and came away suj^ar-coated again, but suffe; ing under anotherpost- ponement. So the thing went on. Yates haunted Stephen week after week, to no purpose, and at last gave it up. And then straightway Stephen began to haunt Yates ! Wherever Yates appeared there was the inevitable Stephen. And not only there, but beaming with affection and gushing with af ologies for not being able to pay. By and by, whenever poor Yates saw him coming, he would turn and fly, and drag his company with him, if he had company ; but it was of no use ; his debtor would run him down and corner him. Panting and red-faced, Stephen would come, with out- stretched hands and eager eyes, invade the conver- sation, shake both of Yates's arms loose in their sockets, and begin : — " My what a race I 've had ! I saw you did n't see me, and so I clapped on ail steam for fear I 'd miss you entirely. And here you are ! there, just stand so, and let me look at you ! Just the same old noble countenance." [To Yates's friend :] " Just look at him ! Look at him ! Ain't it just good to look at him ! Ain't it now ? Ain't he just a picture ! Some call him a picture ; I call him a panorama! That's what he is — an entire pano- rama. And now I'm reminded : How I do wish I could have seen you an hour earlier ! For twenty- sweet- called away irpost- mnted md at bephen peared it only Lg with nd by, would him, if debtor 'anting b out- ionver- 1 their did n't sar I 'd e, just i same end :] it just le just him a pane- wish I wrenty- OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. US four hours I've been saving up that two hundred and fifty dollars for you; been looking for you every- where. I waited at the Planter's from six yester- day evening till two o'clock this morning, without rest or food ; my wife says, * Where have you been all night ? ' I said, ' This debt lies heavy on my mind.' She says, * In all my days I never saw a man take a debt to heart the way you do.' I said, ' It's my nature ; how can / change it ? ' She says, * Well, do go to bed and get some rest.' I said, ' Not till that poor, noble young man has got his money.' So I set up all night, and this morning out I shot, and the first man I struck told me you had shipped on the Grand Turk and gone to New Orleans. Well, sir, I had to lean up against a building and cry. So help me goodness, I couldn't help it. The man that owned the place came out cleaning up with a rag, and said he didn't like to have people crying against his building, and then it seemed to me that the whole world had turned against me, and it wasn't any use to live any more ; and coming along an hour ago, suffering no man kuQws what agony, I met Jim Wilson and paid him the two hundred and fifty dollars on account ; and to think that here you are, now, and I have n't got a cent ! But as sure as I am standing here on this ground, on this particular brick, — there, I've scratched a mark on the brick to remember it by, — I'll borrow that money and pay it over to you at twelve o'clock sharp, to-morrow ! Now, stand let me look at you just once more." (J so 144 OLD TIMKS ON TlIK MISSISSII PI. And 80 on. Yate's life became a burden to him. He could not escape his debtor and his debtor's awful suffering on account of not being able to pay. He dreaded to show himself in the street, lest he should find Stephen lying in wait for him at the corner. Bogart's billiarrl saloon was a great resort for. pilots in those days. They met there about as much to exchange river news as to play. One morning Yates was there , Stephen 7as there, too, but kept out of sight. But by and by, when about all the pilots had arrived who were iu town, Ste- phen suddenly appeared in the midst, and rushed for Yates as for a long-lost brother. , " Oh, I am so glad to see you ! Oh my soul, tha sight of you is such a comfort to my eyes ! Gentle- men, I owe all of you money ; among you I owe probable forty thousand dollars. I want to pay it ; [ intend to pay it — every last cent of it. You all know, without my telling you, what sorrow it has cost me to remain so long under such deep obliga- tions to such patient and generous friends ; but the sharpest pang I suffer — by far the sharpest — is from the debt I owe to this noble young man here ; and I have come to this place this morning especi- ally to make the announcement that I have at last found a method whereby I can pay off all my debts ! And most especially I wanted him to be here when I announced it. Yes, my faithful friend, — ^my benefactor, I've found the method to pay off all mj 01. U riMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 145 debta, and you'll get your money !** Hope dawned in Yates's eye ; then Stephen, beaming benignantly, and placing his hand upon Yates's head, added, "I am going to pay them oft" in alphabetical order ! " Then he turned and disappeared. The full sig- nificance of Stephen's " method " did not dawn upon the perplexed and musing crowd for somi; two minutes ; and tlion Yates murmured with a sigh : — ** Well, the Y's stand a gaudy chance. He won't get any farther than the C's in this world, and I reckon that after a good deal of eternity has wasted away in the next one, I'll still be referred to up there as * that poor, ragged pilot that came her from St. Louis in the early days ! ' " 1 A LITERARY NIGHTMARE. !^H 'ft Hi 1 A LITERARY NIGHTMARE. |a Wtlt. the reader please to cast his eye over the following verses, and see if he can discover any- thing harmful in them ? " Conductor, when you receive a fare, Punch in the presence of the passenjare, A blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, A pink trip slip for a three-cent fare ; Punch in the presence of the passenjare. CHORUS. Punch, brothers ! punch with care ! Punch in the presence of the passenjare. I came across these jingling rhymes in a news- paper a little while ago, and read them a couple of times. They took instant and entire possession ot me. All through breakfast they went waltzing through my brain ; and when, at last, I rolled up my napkin, 1 could not tell whether I had eaten anything or not. I had carefully laid out my day's work the day before — a thiilling tragedy in the novel which I am writing. I went to my den to begin my deed of blood. I took up my pen, but 149 150 A LITERARY NIGHTMARR all I could get to say was, " Punch in the presence of the passenjare." I fought hard for an hour, but it was useless. My head kept humming, " A blue trip slip for an eight- cent fare, a buff trip slip for a six-cent fare," and so on, and so on, without peace or respite. The day's work was ruined — I could see that plainly enough. I gave up and drifted down town, and presently discovered that my feet were keeping time to that relentless jingle. When I could stand it no longer I altered my step. But it did no good ; those rhymes accommodated them- selves to the new step, and went on harassing me just as before. I returned home and suffered all the afternoon ; suffered all through an unconscious And unrefreshing dinner; suffered, and cried, and jingled all through the evening ; went to bed, and rolled, tossed, and jingled right along, the same as ever; got up at midnight frantic, and tried to read ; but there was nothing visible on the whirling page except, " Punch ! punch in the presence of the pas- senjare." By sunrise I was out of my mind, anc. everybody marvelled and was distressed at the idiotic burden of my ravings — " Punch ! oh, punch ! punch in the presence of the passenjare !" Two days later, on Sundajr morning, I rose, a tottering wreck, and went forth to fulfil an engage- ment with a valued friend, the Rev. Mr. — — , to walk to the Talcolt Tower, ten miles distant. He stared at me, but asked no questions. We started. Mr. talked, talkjd, talked — ^as is his Wont. I n A LITERARY NIGHTMARE. 151 said nothing : I heard nothing. At the end ot a mile Mr. said : " Mark, are you sick ? I never saw a man look so haggard and worn and absent-minded. Say something ; do ! " Drearily, without enthusiasm, I said : " Punch, brother, punch with care ! Punch in the presence of the passenjare ! " My friend eyed me blandly, looked perplexed, then said — " I do not think I get your drift, Mark. There does not seem to be any relevancy in what you have said, certainly nothing sad ; and yet — maybe it was the way you said the words — I never heard anything that sounded so pathetic. What is — " But I heard no more. I was already far away with my pitiless, heart-breaking " blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, pink trip slip for a three-cent fare ; punch in the presence of the passenjare." I do not know what occurred during the other nine miles. However, all of a sudden Mr. laid his hand on my shoulder and shouted — " Oh, wake up ! wake up ! wake uj) ! Don't sleep all day ! Here we are at the Tower, man ! I have talked myself deaf and dumb and blind, and never got a response. Just look at this magnificent autumn landscape ! Look at it ! look at it ! Feast your eyes on it ! You have travelled ; you have seen boasted landscapes elsewhere. Come now, 152 A LITERARY NIGHTMARE. i -'S ^ li deliver an honest opinion. What do you say to this ? " I sighed wearily, and murmured — " A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a three-cent fare ; punch in the presence of the passenjare." Rev. Mr. stood there, very grave, full of concern, apparenu y, and looked long at me ; then he said : -,-1 " Mark, there is something about this that I can- not understand. Those are about the same words you said before ; there does nv>t seem to be anybhing in them, and yet they nearly break my heart when you say them. Punch in me — how is it they go ? '' I began at the beginning, and repeated all the lines. My friend's face lighted with inteiest. He said : " Why, what a captivating jingle it is ! It is almost music. It flows along so nicely. I have nearly caught the rhymes myself Say them over just once more, and then I '11 have them sure." I said them over. Then Mr. said them. He made one little mistake, which I corrected. The next time and the next he got them right. Now a great burden seemed to tumble from my shoulders. That torturing jingle depaj'ted out of my brain, and a grateful sense of rest and peace descended upon me. I was light-hearted enough to sing ; and I did sing for half an houj* straight along as we went jogging homewards. Then my free4 tongue found 1 r k* - Tj-yz^uyB'-^.! A LITERARY^ NIGHTMARE. 153 blessed speech again, and the pent talk of many a weary hour began to gush and flow. It flowed on and on, joyously, jubilantly, until the fountain was empty and dry. As I wrung my friend's hand at parting, I said : " Haven't we had a royal good time ? But now I remember you haven't said a word for two hours. Come, come, out with something." The Rev. Mr. turned a lacklustre eye upon me, drew a deep sigh, and said, without animation, without apparent consciousness : " Punch, brother ! punch with care ! Punch in the presence of the passeniare !" A pang shot through me as I said to myself, " Poor fellow ! poor fellow ! he has got it now." I did not see Mr. for two or three days aftei that. Then, on Tuesday evening, he staggered into my presence and sank dejectedly into a seat. He was pale, worn ; he was a wreck. He lifted his faded eyes to my face and said, — " Ah, Mark, it was a ruinous investment that I made in those heartless rhymes. They have ridden me like a nightmare, day and night, hour after hour, to this very moment. Since I saw you 1 have suf- fered the torments of the lost. Saturday evening I had a sudden call, by telegraph, and took the night train for Boston. The occasion was the death of a valued old friend who had requested that I should preach his funeral sermon. I took my seat in the cars and set myself to framing the discourse. 10 154 A LITERARY NIGHTMARE. But I never got beyond the opening paragraph ; for then the train started and the car- wheels began their * clack-clack-clack-clack ! clack-clack-clack-clack !* and right away those odious rhymes fitted them- selves to that accompaniment. For an hour I sat there and set a syllable of those rhymes to every separate and distinct clack the car-wheels made. Why, I was fagged out, then, as if I had been chop- ping wood all day. My skull was splitting with headache. It seemed to me that I must go mad if I sat there any longer ; so I undressed and went to bed. I stretched myself out in my berth, and — well, you know what the result was. The thing went right along, just the same. * Clack-clack- clack, a blue trip slip, clack-clack-clack, for an eight-cent fare ; clack-clack-clack, a buff trip slip, clack-clack-clack, for a six-cent fare, and so on, and so on, and so on — punch, in the presence of the passenjare !" Sleep ? Not a single wink ! I was almost a lunatic when I got to Boston. Don't ask ma about the funeral. I did the best I could. But every solemn individual sentence was meshed and tangled and woven in and out with ' Punch, bro- thers, punch with care, punch in the presence of the passenjare.* And the most distressing thing was that my delivery dropped into the undulating rhythm of those pulsing rhymes, and I could acta-' ally catch absent-minded people nodding time to the swing of it with their stupid heads. And, Mark, you may believe it or not, but before I got A LITERARY NIGHTMARE. 155 tiirough, the entire assemblage were placidly bob- bing their heads in solemn unison, mourners, under- takers, and all. The moment I had finished, I fled to the anteroom in a state bordering on frenzy. Of course it would be my luck to find a sorrowing and aged maiden aunt of the deceased there, who had arrived from Springfield too late to get into the church. She began to sob, and said, — " ' Oh, oh, he is gone, he is gone, and I did n't see him before he died ! ' " ' Yes ! ' I said, ' he is gone, he is gone, he ia gone — oh, will this sufiering never cease ! ' " ' You loved him, then ! Oh, you too loved him ! ' " * Loved him ! Loved who t ' " Why, my poor George ! my poor nephew ! * "'Oh — hivi! Yes — oh, yes, yes. Certainly — certainly. Punch — punch — oh, this misery will kill me ! ' •' Bless you ! bless you, sir, for these sweet words ! /, too, suff'er in this dear loss. Were you present during his last moments ? ' " ' Yes ! I — whose last moments ? ' " ' His. The dear departed's.' " ' Yes ! Oh, yes — yes — yes ! I suppose so, I think so, / don't know I Oh, certainly — I was there — I was there ! ' " ' Oh, what a privilege ! what a precious privi- lege ! And his last words — oh, tell me, tell me his last words ! What did he say ? ' loG A LITERARY NIGHTMARE. " ' He said — he said — oh, my head, my head, my head ! He said — he said — he never said anything but Punch, punch, punch in the presence of the passenjare ! Oh, leave me, madam ! In the name of all that is generous, leave me to my madness, my misery, my despair ! — a buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a three-cent fare — endu- rance can no fur-ther go ! — PUNCH in the presence of the passenjare ! ' " My friend's hopeless eyes rested upon mine a pregnant minute, and then he said impressively, — " Mark, you do not say an3'thing. You do not offer mo any hope. But, ah me, it is just as well — it is just as well. You could not do me any good. The time has long gone by when words could com- fort me. Something tells me that my tongue is doomed to wag forever to the jigger of that remorseless jingle. There — ^there it is coming on me again : a blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, a buff trip slip for a " — Thus murmuring faint and fainter, my friend sank into a peaceful trance and forgot his sufferings in a blessed respite. How did I finally save him from the asylum ? I took him to a neighboring university and made him discharge the burden of his persecuting rhymes into the eager ears of the poor, unthinking students. How is it with them, now ? The result is to# sad to tell. Why did I write this article ? It was for a worthy, even a noble, purpose. It, was to warn I A LITERARY NIGHTMARE. 167 you, reader, if you should come across those meici- less rhymes, to avoid them — avoid them as you would a pestilence 1 I The New Historical Romance by the Late Lord Lytton. CANADIAN COPYRIGHT EDITION. ■^•- Beoond Edition, now ready, In Crown Svo. Olotli, Price f LOOi Paper, 70 Cents. i««- ¥kti;iki\ik^ tl\e ^f)krtki\: AN UNFINISHED ROMANCE. By the Author of "My Novel," "The Parisians," &c. EDITED, WITH A PREFACE, BT HIS SON, ROBERT LORD LTTTOV — » " Lord Lytton has done well in publishing, after much hesitation, his father's latest work. Though the artist's hand was arrested before his canvas was half filled, yet he has left us a noble fragment which interprets successfully a difficult chapter of Grecian history." — The Toronto Nation. " There are many scholarly hints throughout the book, and seve- ral fine translations. We particularly liked the rendering of our favorite, the hymn of Ca is.ratus." — Co'tadian lUustrated News. " Is of real intrinsic interest, and we have many reasons to con- gratulate the present Lord Lytton and his co-editor. Dr. B. H. Kennedy, upon their decision to place the romance, all incomplete though it be, in the hands of the public." — Observer, ** Shows the master hand." — Standard. " A literary curiosity, showing how wide was the field which Lord Lytton cultivated, and in what manner he worked." — Scotsman. ** For powerful portraiture cf character and vivid reproduction of old-world scenes, this posthumous story far surpasses any of Lord Lytton's better-known historic novels." — North British Daily Mail, For sale by all Booksellers, or mailed post paid on receipt of price by BELFORD BROS., Publishers. Toronto. QO^