Life on the Mississippi by Mark Twain.. - HTML preview

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Chapter 11

You will hardly believe it, but many steamboat clerks always carried a large assortment of religious tracts with them The River Rises

in those old departed steamboating days. Indeed they did.

Twenty times a day we would be cramping up around a bar, DURING THIS BIG RISE these small-fry craft were an intoler-while a string of these small-fry rascals were drifting down able nuisance. We were running chute after chute,—a new into the head of the bend away above and beyond us a couple world to me,—and if there was a particularly cramped place of miles. Now a skiff would dart away from one of them, in a chute, we would be pretty sure to meet a broad-horn and come fighting its laborious way across the desert of wa-there; and if he failed to be there, we would find him in a ter. It would ‘ease all,’ in the shadow of our forecastle, and still worse locality, namely, the head of the chute, on the the panting oarsmen would shout, “Gimme a pa-a-per!” as 64

Life on the Mississippi - Mark Twain the skiff drifted swiftly astern. The clerk would throw over a spot. Some of these chutes were utter solitudes. The dense, file of New Orleans journals. If these were picked up with-untouched forest overhung both banks of the crooked little out comment, you might notice that now a dozen other skiffs crack, and one could believe that human creatures had never had been drifting down upon us without saying anything.

intruded there before. The swinging grape-vines, the grassy You understand, they had been waiting to see how No. 1

nooks and vistas glimpsed as we swept by, the flowering creep-was going to fare. No. 1 making no comment, all the rest ers waving their red blossoms from the tops of dead trunks, would bend to their oars and come on, now; and as fast as and all the spendthrift richness of the forest foliage, were they came the clerk would heave over neat bundles of reli-wasted and thrown away there. The chutes were lovely places gious tracts, tied to shingles. The amount of hard swearing to steer in; they were deep, except at the head; the current which twelve packages of religious literature will command was gentle; under the ‘points’ the water was absolutely dead, when impartially divided up among twelve raftsmen’s crews, and the invisible banks so bluff that where the tender willow who have pulled a heavy skiff two miles on a hot day to get thickets projected you could bury your boat’s broadside in them, is simply incredible.

them as you tore along, and then you seemed fairly to fly.

As I have said, the big rise brought a new world under my Behind other islands we found wretched little farms, and vision. By the time the river was over its banks we had for-wretcheder little log-cabins; there were crazy rail fences stick-saken our old paths and were hourly climbing over bars that ing a foot or two above the water, with one or two jeans-had stood ten feet out of water before; we were shaving clad, chills-racked, yellow-faced male miserables roosting on stumpy shores, like that at the foot of Madrid Bend, which the top-rail, elbows on knees, jaws in hands, grinding to-I had always seen avoided before; we were clattering through bacco and discharging the result at floating chips through chutes like that of 82, where the opening at the foot was an crevices left by lost teeth; while the rest of the family and the unbroken wall of timber till our nose was almost at the very few farm-animals were huddled together in an empty wood-65

Life on the Mississippi - Mark Twain flat riding at her moorings close at hand. In this flat-boat the while the boat-hands chopped the bridge away; for there family would have to cook and eat and sleep for a lesser or was no such thing as turning back, you comprehend.

greater number of days (or possibly weeks), until the river From Cairo to Baton Rouge, when the river is over its should fall two or three feet and let them get back to their banks, you have no particular trouble in the night, for the log-cabin and their chills again—chills being a merciful pro-thousand-mile wall of dense forest that guards the two banks vision of an all-wise Providence to enable them to take exer-all the way is only gapped with a farm or wood-yard opening cise without exertion. And this sort of watery camping out at intervals, and so you can’t “get out of the river” much was a thing which these people were rather liable to be treated easier than you could get out of a fenced lane; but from to a couple of times a year: by the December rise out of the Baton Rouge to New Orleans it is a different matter. The Ohio, and the June rise out of the Mississippi. And yet these river is more than a mile wide, and very deep—as much as were kindly dispensations, for they at least enabled the poor two hundred feet, in places. Both banks, for a good deal things to rise from the dead now and then, and look upon over a hundred miles, are shorn of their timber and bor-life when a steamboat went by. They appreciated the bless-dered by continuous sugar plantations, with only here and ing, too, for they spread their mouths and eyes wide open there a scattering sapling or row of ornamental China-trees.

and made the most of these occasions. Now what could these The timber is shorn off clear to the rear of the plantations, banished creatures find to do to keep from dying of the blues from two to four miles. When the first frost threatens to during the low-water season!

come, the planters snatch off their crops in a hurry. When Once, in one of these lovely island chutes, we found our they have finished grinding the cane, they form the refuse of course completely bridged by a great fallen tree. This will the stalks (which they call Bagasse) into great piles and set serve to show how narrow some of the chutes were. The fire to them, though in other sugar countries the bagasse is passengers had an hour’s recreation in a virgin wilderness, used for fuel in the furnaces of the sugar mills. Now the 66

Life on the Mississippi - Mark Twain piles of damp bagasse burn slowly, and smoke like Satan’s when you think you are a good half-mile from shore. And own kitchen.

you are sure, also, that if you chance suddenly to fetch up An embankment ten or fifteen feet high guards both banks against the embankment and topple your chimneys over-of the Mississippi all the way down that lower end of the board, you will have the small comfort of knowing that it is river, and this embankment is set back from the edge of the about what you were expecting to do. One of the great shore from ten to perhaps a hundred feet, according to cir-Vicksburg packets darted out into a sugar plantation one cumstances; say thirty or forty feet, as a general thing. Fill night, at such a time, and had to stay there a week. But there that whole region with an impenetrable gloom of smoke from was no novelty about it; it had often been done before.

a hundred miles of burning bagasse piles, when the river is I thought I had finished this chapter, but I wish to add a over the banks, and turn a steamboat loose along there at curious thing, while it is in my mind. It is only relevant in midnight and see how she will feel. And see how you will that it is connected with piloting. There used to be an excel-feel, too! You find yourself away out in the midst of a vague lent pilot on the river, a Mr. X., who was a somnambulist. It dim sea that is shoreless, that fades out and loses itself in the was said that if his mind was troubled about a bad piece of murky distances; for you cannot discern the thin rib of em-river, he was pretty sure to get up and walk in his sleep and bankment, and you are always imagining you see a strag-do strange things. He was once fellow-pilot for a trip or two gling tree when you don’t. The plantations themselves are with George Ealer, on a great New Orleans passenger packet.

transformed by the smoke, and look like a part of the sea.

During a considerable part of the first trip George was un-All through your watch you are tortured with the exquisite easy, but got over it by and by, as X. seemed content to stay misery of uncertainty. You hope you are keeping in the river, in his bed when asleep. Late one night the boat was approach-but you do not know. All that you are sure about is that you ing Helena, Arkansas; the water was low, and the crossing are likely to be within six feet of the bank and destruction, above the town in a very blind and tangled condition. X.

67

Life on the Mississippi - Mark Twain had seen the crossing since Ealer had, and as the night was ning around and around the wheel like a squirrel. It is so particularly drizzly, sullen, and dark, Ealer was considering dark I can’t tell which way she is swinging till she is coming whether he had not better have X. called to assist in running around like a whirligig.”

the place, when the door opened and X. walked in. Now on So Ealer took a seat on the bench, panting and breathless.

very dark nights, light is a deadly enemy to piloting; you are The black phantom assumed the wheel without saying any-aware that if you stand in a lighted room, on such a night, thing, steadied the waltzing steamer with a turn or two, and you cannot see things in the street to any purpose; but if you then stood at ease, coaxing her a little to this side and then to put out the lights and stand in the gloom you can make out that, as gently and as sweetly as if the time had been noon-objects in the street pretty well. So, on very dark nights, day. When Ealer observed this marvel of steering, he wished pilots do not smoke; they allow no fire in the pilot-house he had not confessed! He stared, and wondered, and finally stove if there is a crack which can allow the least ray to es-said—

cape; they order the furnaces to be curtained with huge tar-

“Well, I thought I knew how to steer a steamboat, but paulins and the sky-lights to be closely blinded. Then no that was another mistake of mine.”

light whatever issues from the boat. The undefinable shape X. said nothing, but went serenely on with his work. He that now entered the pilot-house had Mr. X.’s voice. This rang for the leads; he rang to slow down the steam; he worked said—

the boat carefully and neatly into invisible marks, then stood

“Let me take her, George; I’ve seen this place since you at the center of the wheel an d peered blandly out into the have, and it is so crooked that I reckon I can run it myself blackness, fore and aft, to verify his position; as the leads easier than I could tell you how to do it.” shoaled more and more, he stopped the engines entirely, and

“It is kind of you, and I swear I am willing. I haven’t got the dead silence and suspense of “drifting” followed when another drop of perspiration left in me. I have been spin-the shoalest water was struck, he cracked on the steam, car-68

Life on the Mississippi - Mark Twain ried her handsomely over, and then began to work her warily

“Who is at the wheel, sir?”

into the next system of shoal marks; the same patient, heed-

“X.”

ful use of leads and engines followed, the boat slipped through

“Dart for the pilot-house, quicker than lightning!” without touching bottom, and entered upon the third and The next moment both men were flying up the pilot-house last intricacy of the crossing; imperceptibly she moved companion way, three steps at a jump! Nobody there! The through the gloom, crept by inches into her marks, drifted great steamer was whistling down the middle of the river at tediously till the shoalest water was cried, and then, under a her own sweet will! The watchman shot out of the place tremendous head of steam, went swinging over the reef and again; Ealer seized the wheel, set an engine back with power, away into deep water and safety!

and held his breath while the boat reluctantly swung away Ealer let his long-pent breath pour out in a great, relieving from a ‘towhead’ which she was about to knock into the sigh, and said—

middle of the Gulf of Mexico!

“That’s the sweetest piece of piloting that was ever done By and by the watchman came back and said—

on the Mississippi River! I wouldn’t believed it could be done,

“Didn’t that lunatic tell you he was asleep, when he first if I hadn’t seen it.”

came up here?”

There was no reply, and he added—

No.”

“Just hold her five minutes longer, partner, and let me run

“Well, he was. I found him walking along on top of the down and get a cup of coffee.”

railings just as unconcerned as another man would walk a A minute later Ealer was biting into a pie, down in the pavement; and I put him to bed; now just this minute there

“texas,” and comforting himself with coffee. Just then the he was again, away astern, going through that sort of tight-night watchman happened in, and was about to happen out rope deviltry the same as before.”

again, when he noticed Ealer and exclaimed—

“Well, I think I’ll stay by, next time he has one of those 69

Life on the Mississippi - Mark Twain fits. But I hope he’ll have them often. You just ought to have

“sounding-boat”—and proceeds to hunt for the best water, seen him take this boat through Helena crossing. I never the pilot on duty watching his movements through a spy-saw anything so gaudy before. And if he can do such gold-glass, meantime, and in some instances assisting by signals leaf, kid-glove, diamond-breastpin piloting when he is sound of the boat’s whistle, signifying “try higher up” or “try lower asleep, what couldn’t he do if he was dead!” down;” for the surface of the water, like an oil-painting, is more expressive and intelligible when inspected from a little Chapter 12

distance than very close at hand. The whistle signals are seldom necessary, however; never, perhaps, except when the Sounding

wind confuses the significant ripples upon the water’s surface. When the yawl has reached the shoal place, the speed is WHEN THE RIVER IS VERY LOW, and one’s steamboat is “draw-slackened, the pilot begins to sound the depth with a pole ing all the water” there is in the channel,—or a few inches ten or twelve feet long, and the steersman at the tiller obeys more, as was often the case in the old times,—one must be the order to “hold her up to starboard;” or, “let her fall off to painfully circumspect in his piloting. We used to have to larboard;”* or “steady—steady as you go.”

‘sound’ a number of particularly bad places almost every trip When the measurements indicate that the yawl is approach-when the river was at a very low stage.

ing the shoalest part of the reef, the command is given to Sounding is done in this way. The boat ties up at the shore,

“ease all!” Then the men stop rowing and the yawl drifts just above the shoal crossing; the pilot not on watch takes with the current. The next order is, “Stand by with the buoy!” his “cub” or steersman and a picked crew of men (sometimes The moment the shallowest point is reached, the pilot deliv-an officer also), and goes out in the yawl—provided the boat has not that rare and sumptuous luxury, a regularly-devised

*The term “larboard” is never used at seam now, to signify the left hand; but was always used on the river in my time.

70

Life on the Mississippi - Mark Twain ers the order, “Let go the buoy!” and over she goes. If the A buoy is nothing but a board four or five feet long, with pilot is not satisfied, he sounds the place again; if he finds one end turned up; it is a reversed school-house bench, with better water higher up or lower down, he removes the buoy one of the supports left and the other removed. It is an-to that place. Being finally satisfied, he gives the order, and chored on the shoalest part of the reef by a rope with a heavy all the men stand their oars straight up in the air, in line; a stone made fast to the end of it. But for the resistance of the blast from the boat’s whistle indicates that the signal has been turned-up end of the reversed bench, the current would pull seen; then the men “give way” on their oars and lay the yawl the buoy under water. At night, a paper lantern with a candle alongside the buoy; the steamer comes creeping carefully in it is fastened on top of the buoy, and this can be seen a down, is pointed straight at the buoy, husbands her power mile or more, a little glimmering spark in the waste of black-for the coming struggle, and presently, at the critical mo-ness.

ment, turns on all her steam and goes grinding and wallow-Nothing delights a cub so much as an opportunity to go ing over the buoy and the sand, and gains the deep water out sounding. There is such an air of adventure about it; beyond. Or maybe she doesn’t; maybe she “strikes and often there is danger; it is so gaudy and man-of-war-like to swings.” Then she has to while away several hours (or days) sit up in the stern-sheets and steer a swift yawl; there is some-sparring herself off.

thing fine about the exultant spring of the boat when an Sometimes a buoy is not laid at all, but the yawl goes ahead, experienced old sailor crew throw their souls into the oars; it hunting the best water, and the steamer follows along in its is lovely to see the white foam stream away from the bows; wake. Often there is a deal of fun and excitement about there is music in the rush of the water; it is deliciously ex-sounding, especially if it is a glorious summer day, or a blus-hilarating, in summer, to go speeding over the breezy extering night. But in winter the cold and the peril take most panses of the river when the world of wavelets is dancing in of the fun out of it.

the sun. It is such grandeur, too, to the cub, to get a chance 71

Life on the Mississippi - Mark Twain to give an order; for often the pilot will simply say, “Let her handsomely for me: the pilots decided to sound the crossing go about!” and leave the rest to the cub, who instantly cries, at the head of 21. This would occur about nine or ten o’clock in his sternest tone of command, “Ease starboard! Strong on at night, when the passengers would be still up; it would be the larboard! Starboard give way! With a will, men!” The Mr. Thornburg’s watch, therefore my chief would have to cub enjoys sounding for the further reason that the eyes of do the sounding. We had a perfect love of a sounding-boat—

the passengers are watching all the yawl’s movements with long, trim, graceful, and as fleet as a greyhound; her thwarts absorbing interest if the time be daylight; and if it be night were cushioned; she carried twelve oarsmen; one of the mates he knows that those same wondering eyes are fastened upon was always sent in her to transmit orders to her crew, for the yawl’s lantern as it glides out into the gloom and dims ours was a steamer where no end of “style” was put on.

away in the remote distance.

We tied up at the shore above 21, and got ready. It was a One trip a pretty girl of sixteen spent her time in our foul night, and the river was so wide, there, that a landsman’s pilot-house with her uncle and aunt, every day and all day uneducated eyes could discern no opposite shore through long. I fell in love with her. So did Mr. Thornburg’s cub, such a gloom. The passengers were alert and interested; ev-Tom G—. Tom and I had been bosom friends until this erything was satisfactory. As I hurried through the engine-time; but now a coolness began to arise. I told the girl a good room, picturesquely gotten up in storm toggery, I met Tom, many of my river adventures, and made myself out a good and could not forbear delivering myself of a mean speech—

deal of a hero; Tom tried to make himself appear to be a

“Ain’t you glad you don’t have to go out sounding?” hero, too, and succeeded to some extent, but then he always Tom was passing on, but he quickly turned, and said—

had a way of embroidering. However, virtue is its own re-

“Now just for that, you can go and get the sounding-pole ward, so I was a barely perceptible trifle ahead in the con-yourself. I was going after it, but I’d see you in Halifax, now, test. About this time something happened which promised before I’d do it.”

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Life on the Mississippi - Mark Twain

“Who wants you to get it? I don’t. It’s in the sounding-Thornburg exclaimed—

boat.”

“Hello, the buoy-lantern’s out!”

“It ain’t, either. It’s been new-painted; and it’s been up on He stopped the engines. A moment or two later he said—

the ladies’ cabin guards two days, drying.”

“Why, there it is again!”

I flew back, and shortly arrived among the crowd of watch-So he came ahead on the engines once more, and rang for ing and wondering ladies just in time to hear the command: the leads. Gradually the water shoaled up, and then began to

“Give way, men!”

deepen again! Mr. Thornburg muttered—

I looked over, and there was the gallant sounding-boat

“Well, I don’t understand this. I believe that buoy has booming away, the unprincipled Tom presiding at the tiller, drifted off the reef. Seems to be a little too far to the left. No and my chief sitting by him with the sounding-pole which I matter, it is safest to run over it anyhow.” had been sent on a fool’s errand to fetch. Then that young So, in that solid world of darkness we went creeping down girl said to me—

on the light. Just as our bows were in the act of plowing over

“Oh, how awful to have to go out in that little boat on it, Mr. Thornburg seized the bell-ropes, rang a startling peal, such a night! Do you think there is any danger?” and exclaimed—

I would rather have been stabbed. I went off, full of venom,

“My soul, it’s the sounding-boat!”

to help in the pilot-house. By and by the boat’s lantern disA sudden chorus of wild alarms burst out far below—a appeared, and after an interval a wee spark glimmered upon pause—and then the sound of grinding and crashing fol-the face of the water a mile away. Mr. Thornburg blew the lowed. Mr. Thornburg exclaimed—

whistle, in acknowledgment, backed the steamer out, and

“There! the paddle-wheel has ground the sounding-boat made for it. We flew along for a while, then slackened steam to lucifer matches! Run! See who is killed!” and went cautiously gliding toward the spark. Presently Mr.

I was on the main deck in the twinkling of an eye. My 73

Life on the Mississippi - Mark Twain chief and the third mate and nearly all the men were safe.

deck railings, leaning over and staring into the gloom; and They had discovered their danger when it was too late to every faint and fainter cry wrung from them such words as, pull out of the way; then, when the great guards overshad-

“Ah, poor fellow, poor fellow! is there no way to save him?” owed them a moment later, they were prepared and knew But still the cries held out, and drew nearer, and presently what to do; at my chiefs order they sprang at the right in-the voice said pluckily—

stant, seized the guard, and were hauled aboard. The next

“I can make it! Stand by with a rope!” moment the sounding-yawl swept aft to the wheel and was What a rousing cheer they gave him! The chief mate took struck and splintered to atoms. Two of the men and the cub his stand in the glare of a torch-basket, a coil of rope in his Tom, were missing—a fact which spread like wildfire over hand, and his men grouped about him. The next moment the boat. The passengers came flocking to the forward gang-the swimmer’s face appeared in the circle of light, and in way, ladies and all, anxious-eyed, white-faced, and talked in another one the owner of it was hauled aboard, limp and awed voices of the dreadful thing. And often and again I drenched, while cheer on cheer went up. It was that devil heard them say, “Poor fellows! poor boy, poor boy!” Tom.

By this time the boat’s yawl was manned and away, to The yawl crew searched everywhere, but found no sign of search for the missing. Now a faint call was heard, off to the the two men. They probably failed to catch the guard, left. The yawl had disappeared in the other direction. Half tumbled back, and were struck by the wheel and killed. Tom the people rushed to one side to encourage the swimmer had never jumped for the guard at all, but had plunged head-with their shouts; the other half rushed the other way to first into the river and dived under the wheel. It was noth-shriek to the yawl to turn about. By the callings, the swim-ing; I could have done it easy enough, and I said so; but mer was approaching, but some said the sound showed fail-everybody went on just the same, making a wonderful to do ing strength. The crowd massed themselves against the boiler-over that ass, as if he had done something great. That girl 74

Life on the Mississippi - Mark Twain couldn’t seem to have enough of that pitiful “hero” the rest of the trip; but little I cared; I loathed her, any way.