LIFE ON THE MISSISSIPPI BY MARK TWAIN Part 4. Chapter 16 Racing Days IT was always the custom for the boats to leave New Orleans between fourand five o'clock in the afternoon. From three o'clock onward they wouldbe burning rosin and pitch pine (the sign of preparation), and so onehad the picturesque spectacle of a rank, some two or three miles long, of tall, ascending columns of coal-black smoke; a colonnade whichsupported a sable roof of the same smoke blended together and spreadingabroad over the city. Every outward-bound boat had its flag flying atthe jack-staff, and sometimes a duplicate on the verge staff astern. Twoor three miles of mates were commanding and swearing with more thanusual emphasis; countless processions of freight barrels and boxes werespinning athwart the levee and flying aboard the stage-planks, belatedpassengers were dodging and skipping among these frantic things, hopingto reach the forecastle companion way alive, but having their doubtsabout it; women with reticules and bandboxes were trying to keep up withhusbands freighted with carpet-sacks and crying babies, and making afailure of it by losing their heads in the whirl and roar and generaldistraction; drays and baggage-vans were clattering hither and thitherin a wild hurry, every now and then getting blocked and jammed together, and then during ten seconds one could not see them for the profanity, except vaguely and dimly; every windlass connected with every forehatch, from one end of that long array of steamboats to the other, was keepingup a deafening whiz and whir, lowering freight into the hold, and thehalf-naked crews of perspiring negroes that worked them were roaringsuch songs as 'De Las' Sack! De Las' Sack!'--inspired to unimaginableexaltation by the chaos of turmoil and racket that was driving everybodyelse mad. By this time the hurricane and boiler decks of the steamerswould be packed and black with passengers. The 'last bells' would beginto clang, all down the line, and then the powwow seemed to double; in amoment or two the final warning came, --a simultaneous din of Chinesegongs, with the cry, 'All dat ain't goin', please to git asho'!'--andbehold, the powwow quadrupled! People came swarming ashore, overturningexcited stragglers that were trying to swarm aboard. One more momentlater a long array of stage-planks was being hauled in, each with itscustomary latest passenger clinging to the end of it with teeth, nails, and everything else, and the customary latest procrastinator making awild spring shoreward over his head. Now a number of the boats slide backward into the stream, leaving widegaps in the serried rank of steamers. Citizens crowd the decks of boatsthat are not to go, in order to see the sight. Steamer after steamerstraightens herself up, gathers all her strength, and presently comesswinging by, under a tremendous head of steam, with flag flying, blacksmoke rolling, and her entire crew of firemen and deck-hands (usuallyswarthy negroes) massed together on the forecastle, the best 'voice' inthe lot towering from the midst (being mounted on the capstan), wavinghis hat or a flag, and all roaring a mighty chorus, while the partingcannons boom and the multitudinous spectators swing their hats andhuzza! Steamer after steamer falls into line, and the stately processiongoes winging its flight up the river. In the old times, whenever two fast boats started out on a race, with abig crowd of people looking on, it was inspiring to hear the crews sing, especially if the time were night-fall, and the forecastle lit up withthe red glare of the torch-baskets. Racing was royal fun. The publicalways had an idea that racing was dangerous; whereas the opposite wasthe case--that is, after the laws were passed which restricted each boatto just so many pounds of steam to the square inch. No engineer was eversleepy or careless when his heart was in a race. He was constantly onthe alert, trying gauge-cocks and watching things. The dangerous placewas on slow, plodding boats, where the engineers drowsed around andallowed chips to get into the 'doctor' and shut off the water supplyfrom the boilers. In the 'flush times' of steamboating, a race between two notoriouslyfleet steamers was an event of vast importance. The date was set for itseveral weeks in advance, and from that time forward, the wholeMississippi Valley was in a state of consuming excitement. Politics andthe weather were dropped, and people talked only of the coming race. Asthe time approached, the two steamers 'stripped' and got ready. Everyencumbrance that added weight, or exposed a resisting surface to wind orwater, 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. Whenthe 'Eclipse' and the 'A. L. Shotwell' ran their great race many yearsago, it was said that pains were taken to scrape the gilding off thefanciful device which hung between the 'Eclipse's' chimneys, and thatfor that one trip the captain left off his kid gloves and had his headshaved. But I always doubted these things. If the boat was known to make her best speed when drawing five and ahalf feet forward and five feet aft, she was carefully loaded to thatexact figure--she wouldn't enter a dose of homoeopathic pills on hermanifest after that. Hardly any passengers were taken, because they notonly add weight but they never will 'trim boat. ' They always run to theside when there is anything to see, whereas a conscientious andexperienced steamboatman would stick to the center of the boat and parthis hair in the middle with a spirit level. No way-freights and no way-passengers were allowed, for the racers wouldstop only at the largest towns, and then it would be only 'touch andgo. ' Coal flats and wood flats were contracted for beforehand, and thesewere kept ready to hitch on to the flying steamers at a moment'swarning. Double crews were carried, so that all work could be quicklydone. The chosen date being come, and all things in readiness, the two greatsteamers back into the stream, and lie there jockeying a moment, andapparently watching each other's slightest movement, like sentientcreatures; flags drooping, the pent steam shrieking through safety-valves, the black smoke rolling and tumbling from the chimneys anddarkening all the air. People, people everywhere; the shores, the house-tops, the steamboats, the ships, are packed with them, and you know thatthe borders of the broad Mississippi are going to be fringed withhumanity thence northward twelve hundred miles, to welcome these racers. Presently tall columns of steam burst from the 'scape-pipes of bothsteamers, two guns boom a good-bye, two red-shirted heroes mounted oncapstans wave their small flags above the massed crews on theforecastles, two plaintive solos linger on the air a few waitingseconds, two mighty choruses burst forth--and here they come! Brassbands bray Hail Columbia, huzza after 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 ofthose wood-boats in tow and turn a swarm of men into each; by the timeyou have wiped your glasses and put them on, you will be wondering whathas become of that wood. Two nicely matched steamers will stay in sight of each other day afterday. They might even stay side by side, but for the fact that pilots arenot all alike, and the smartest pilots will win the race. If one of theboats has a 'lightning' pilot, whose 'partner' is a trifle his inferior, you can tell which one is on watch by noting whether that boat hasgained ground or lost some during each four-hour stretch. The shrewdestpilot can delay a boat if he has not a fine genius for steering. Steering is a very high art. One must not keep a rudder dragging acrossa boat's stem if he wants to get up the river fast. There is a great difference in boats, of course. For a long time I wason a boat that was so slow we used to forget what year it was we leftport in. But of course this was at rare intervals. Ferryboats used tolose valuable trips because their passengers grew old and died, waitingfor us to get by. This was at still rarer intervals. I had thedocuments for these occurrences, but through carelessness they have beenmislaid. This boat, the 'John J. Roe, ' was so slow that when she finallysunk in Madrid Bend, it was five years before the owners heard of it. That was always a confusing fact to me, but it is according to therecord, any way. She was dismally slow; still, we often had prettyexciting times racing with islands, and rafts, and such things. Onetrip, however, we did rather well. We went to St. Louis in sixteendays. But even at this rattling gait I think we changed watches threetimes in Fort Adams reach, which is five miles long. A 'reach' is apiece of straight river, and of course the current drives through such aplace in a pretty lively way. That trip we went to Grand Gulf, from New Orleans, in four days (threehundred and forty miles); the 'Eclipse' and 'Shotwell' did it in one. We were nine days out, in the chute of 63 (seven hundred miles); the'Eclipse' and 'Shotwell' went there in two days. Something over ageneration ago, a boat called the 'J. M. White' went from New Orleans toCairo in three days, six hours, and forty-four minutes. In 1853 the'Eclipse' made the same trip in three days, three hours, and twentyminutes. {footnote [Time disputed. Some authorities add 1 hour and 16minutes to this. ]} In 1870 the 'R. E. Lee' did it in three days and ONEhour. This last is called the fastest trip on record. I will try to showthat it was not. For this reason: the distance between New Orleans andCairo, when the 'J. M. White' ran it, was about eleven hundred and sixmiles; consequently her average speed was a trifle over fourteen milesper hour. In the 'Eclipse's' day the distance between the two ports hadbecome reduced to one thousand and eighty miles; consequently heraverage speed was a shade under fourteen and three-eighths miles perhour. In the 'R. E. Lee's' time the distance had diminished to about onethousand and thirty miles; consequently her average was about fourteenand one-eighth miles per hour. Therefore the 'Eclipse's' wasconspicuously the fastest time that has ever been made. THE RECORD OF SOME FAMOUS TRIPS (From Commodore Rollingpin's Almanack. ) FAST TIME ON THE WESTERN WATERS FROM NEW ORLEANS TO NATCHEZ--268 MILES D. H. M. 1814 Orleans made the run in 6 6 40 1814 Comet " " 5 10 1815 Enterprise " " 4 11 20 1817 Washington " " 4 1817 Shelby " " 3 20 1818 Paragon " " 3 8 1828 Tecumseh " " 3 1 20 1834 Tuscarora " " 1 21 1838 Natchez " " 1 17 1840 Ed. Shippen " " 1 8 1842 Belle of the West " 1 18 1844 Sultana " " 19 45 1851 Magnolia " " 19 50 1853 A. L. Shotwell " " 19 49 1853 Southern Belle " " 20 3 1853 Princess (No. 4) " 20 26 1853 Eclipse " " 19 47 1855 Princess (New) " " 18 53 1855 Natchez (New) " " 17 30 1856 Princess (New) " " 17 30 1870 Natchez " " 17 17 1870 R. E. Lee " " 17 11 FROM NEW ORLEANS TO CAIRO--1, 024 MILES D. H. M. 1844 J. M. White made the run in 3 6 44 1852 Reindeer " " 3 12 45 1853 Eclipse " " 3 4 4 1853 A. L. Shotwell " " 3 3 40 1869 Dexter " " 3 6 20 1870 Natchez " " 3 4 34 1870 R. E. Lee " " 3 1 FROM NEW ORLEANS TO LOUISVILLE--1, 440 MILES D. H. M. 1815 Enterprise made the run in 25 2 40 1817 Washington " " 25 1817. Shelby " " 20 4 20 1818 Paragon " " 18 10 1828 Tecumseh " " 8 4 1834 Tuscarora " " 7 16 1837 Gen. Brown " " 6 22 1837 Randolph " " 6 22 1837 Empress " " 6 17 1837 Sultana " " 6 15 1840 Ed. Shippen " " 5 14 1842 Belle of the West " 6 14 1843 Duke of Orleans" " 5 23 1844 Sultana " " 5 12 1849 Bostona " " 5 8 1851 Belle Key " " 3 4 23 1852 Reindeer " " 4 20 45 1852 Eclipse " " 4 19 1853 A. L. Shotwell " " 4 10 20 1853 Eclipse " " 4 9 30 FROM NEW ORLEANS TO DONALDSONVILLE--78 MILES H. M. 1852 A. L. Shotwell made the run in 5 42 1852 Eclipse " " 5 42 1854 Sultana " " 4 51 1860 Atlantic " " 5 11 1860 Gen. Quitman " " 5 6 1865 Ruth " " 4 43 1870 R. E. Lee " " 4 59 FROM NEW ORLEANS TO ST. LOUIS--1, 218 MILES D. H. M. 1844 J. M. White made the run in 3 23 9 1849 Missouri " " 4 19 1869 Dexter " " 4 9 1870 Natchez " " 3 21 58 1870 R. E. Lee " " 3 18 14 FROM LOUISVILLE TO CINCINNATI--141 MILES D. H. M. 1819 Gen. Pike made the run in 1 16 1819 Paragon " " 1 14 20 1822 Wheeling Packet " " 1 10 1837 Moselle " " 12 1843 Duke of Orleans " " 12 1843 Congress " " 12 20 1846 Ben Franklin (No. 6) " 11 45 1852 Alleghaney " " 10 38 1852 Pittsburgh " " 10 23 1853 Telegraph No. 3 " " 9 52 FROM LOUISVILLE TO ST. LOUIS--750 MILES D. H. M. 1843 Congress made the run in 2 1 1854 Pike " " 1 23 1854 Northerner " " 1 22 30 1855 Southemer " " 1 19 FROM CINCINNATI TO PITTSBURGH--490 MILES D. H. 1850 Telegraph No. 2 made the run in 1 17 1851 Buckeye State " " 1 16 1852 Pittsburgh " " 1 15 FROM ST. LOUIS TO ALTON--30 MILES D. M. 1853 Altona made the run in 1 35 1876 Golden Eagle " " 1 37 1876 War Eagle " " 1 37 MISCELLANEOUS RUNS In June, 1859, the St. Louis and Keokuk Packet, City of Louisiana, made the run from St. Louis to Keokuk (214 miles) in 16 hoursand 20 minutes, the best time on record. In 1868 the steamer Hawkeye State, of the Northern Packet Company, made the run from St. Louis to St. Paul (800 miles) in 2 days and 20 hours. Never was beaten. In 1853 the steamer Polar Star made the run from St. Louis to St. Joseph, on the Missouri River, in 64 hours. In July, 1856, the steamer Jas. H. Lucas, Andy Wineland, Master, made the same run in 60 hoursand 57 minutes. The distance between the ports is 600 miles, and when the difficulties of navigating the turbulent Missouriare taken into consideration, the performance of the Lucasdeserves especial mention. THE RUN OF THE ROBERT E. LEE The time made by the R. E. Lee from New Orleans to St. Louisin 1870, in her famous race with the Natchez, is the beston record, and, inasmuch as the race created a national interest, we give below her time table from port to port. Left New Orleans, Thursday, June 30th, 1870, at 4 o'clockand 55 minutes, p. M. ; reached D. H. M. Carrollton 27{half} Harry Hills 1 00{half} Red Church 1 39 Bonnet Carre 2 38 College Point 3 50{half} Donaldsonville 4 59 Plaquemine 7 05{half} Baton Rouge 8 25 Bayou Sara 10 26 Red River 12 56 Stamps 13 56 Bryaro 15 51{half} Hinderson's 16 29 Natchez 17 11 Cole's Creek 19 21 Waterproof 18 53 Rodney 20 45 St. Joseph 21 02 Grand Gulf 22 06 Hard Times 22 18 Half Mile below Warrenton 1 Vicksburg 1 38 Milliken's Bend 1 2 37 Bailey's 1 3 48 Lake Providence 1 5 47 Greenville 1 10 55 Napoleon 1 16 22 White River 1 16 56 Australia 1 19 Helena 1 23 25 Half Mile Below St. Francis 2 Memphis 2 6 9 Foot of Island 37 2 9 Foot of Island 26 2 13 30 Tow-head, Island 14 2 17 23 New Madrid 2 19 50 Dry Bar No. 10 2 20 37 Foot of Island 8 2 21 25 Upper Tow-head--Lucas Bend 3 Cairo 3 1 St. Louis 3 18 14 The Lee landed at St. Louis at 11. 25 A. M. , on July 4th, 1870--6 hoursand 36 minutes ahead of the Natchez. The officers of the Natchez claimed7 hours and 1 minute stoppage on account of fog and repairing machinery. The R. E. Lee was commanded by Captain John W. Cannon, and the Natchezwas in charge of that veteran Southern boatman, Captain Thomas P. Leathers. Chapter 17 Cut-offs and Stephen THESE dry details are of importance in one particular. They give me anopportunity of introducing one of the Mississippi's oddestpeculiarities, --that of shortening its length from time to time. If youwill throw a long, pliant apple-paring over your shoulder, it willpretty fairly shape itself into an average section of the MississippiRiver; that is, the nine or ten hundred miles stretching from Cairo, Illinois, southward to New Orleans, the same being wonderfully crooked, with a brief straight bit here and there at wide intervals. The twohundred-mile stretch from Cairo northward to St. Louis is by no means socrooked, that being a rocky country which the river cannot cut much. The water cuts the alluvial banks of the 'lower' river into deephorseshoe curves; so deep, indeed, that in some places if you were toget 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 coupleof hours while your steamer was coming around the long elbow, at a speedof ten miles an hour, to take you aboard again. When the river is risingfast, some scoundrel whose plantation is back in the country, andtherefore of inferior value, has only to watch his chance, cut a littlegutter across the narrow neck of land some dark night, and turn thewater into it, and in a wonderfully short time a miracle has happened:to wit, the whole Mississippi has taken possession of that little ditch, and placed the countryman's plantation on its bank (quadrupling itsvalue), and that other party's formerly valuable plantation finds itselfaway out yonder on a big island; the old watercourse around it will soonshoal up, boats cannot approach within ten miles of it, and down goesits value to a fourth of its former worth. Watches are kept on thosenarrow necks, at needful times, and if a man happens to be caughtcutting a ditch across them, the chances are all against his ever havinganother opportunity to cut a ditch. Pray observe some of the effects of this ditching business. Once therewas a neck opposite Port Hudson, Louisiana, which was only half a mileacross, in its narrowest place. You could walk across there in fifteenminutes; but if you made the journey around the cape on a raft, youtraveled thirty-five miles to accomplish the same thing. In 1722 theriver darted through that neck, deserted its old bed, and thus shorteneditself thirty-five miles. In the same way it shortened itself twenty-five miles at Black Hawk Point in 1699. Below Red River Landing, Raccourci cut-off was made (forty or fifty years ago, I think). Thisshortened the river twenty-eight miles. In our day, if you travel byriver 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!--shortening of eighty-eight miles in that trifling distance. At someforgotten time in the past, cut-offs were made above Vidalia, Louisiana;at island 92; at island 84; and at Hale's Point. These shortened theriver, in the aggregate, seventy-seven miles. Since my own day on the Mississippi, cut-offs have been made atHurricane Island; at island 100; at Napoleon, Arkansas; at Walnut Bend;and at Council Bend. These shortened the river, in the aggregate, sixty-seven miles. In my own time a cut-off was made at American Bend, which shortened the river ten miles or more. Therefore, the Mississippi between Cairo and New Orleans was twelvehundred and fifteen miles long one hundred and seventy-six years ago. Itwas eleven hundred and eighty after the cut-off of 1722. It was onethousand and forty after the American Bend cut-off. It has lost sixty-seven miles since. Consequently its length is only nine hundred andseventy-three miles at present. Now, if I wanted to be one of those ponderous scientific people, and'let on' to prove what had occurred in the remote past by what hadoccurred in a given time in the recent past, or what will occur in thefar future by what has occurred in late years, what an opportunity ishere! Geology never had such a chance, nor such exact data to arguefrom! Nor 'development of species, ' either! Glacial epochs are greatthings, but they are vague--vague. Please observe:-- In the space of one hundred and seventy-six years the Lower Mississippihas shortened itself two hundred and forty-two miles. That is an averageof a trifle over one mile and a third per year. Therefore, any calmperson, who is not blind or idiotic, can see that in the Old OoliticSilurian Period, ' just a million years ago next November, the LowerMississippi River was upwards of one million three hundred thousandmiles 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 streetstogether, and be plodding comfortably along under a single mayor and amutual board of aldermen. There is something fascinating about science. One gets such wholesale returns of conjecture out of such a triflinginvestment of fact. When the water begins to flow through one of those ditches I have beenspeaking of, it is time for the people thereabouts to move. The watercleaves the banks away like a knife. By the time the ditch has becometwelve 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 ahundred yards, the banks begin to peel off in slices half an acre wide. The current flowing around the bend traveled formerly only five miles anhour; now it is tremendously increased by the shortening of thedistance. I was on board the first boat that tried to go through thecut-off at American Bend, but we did not get through. It was towardmidnight, and a wild night it was--thunder, lightning, and torrents ofrain. It was estimated that the current in the cut-off was making aboutfifteen or twenty miles an hour; twelve or thirteen was the best ourboat could do, even in tolerably slack water, therefore perhaps we werefoolish to try the cut-off. However, Mr. Brown was ambitious, and hekept on trying. The eddy running up the bank, under the 'point, ' wasabout as swift as the current out in the middle; so we would go flyingup the shore like a lightning express train, get on a big head of steam, and 'stand by for a surge' when we struck the current that was whirlingby the point. But all our preparations were useless. The instant thecurrent hit us it spun us around like a top, the water deluged theforecastle, and the boat careened so far over that one could hardly keephis feet. The next instant we were away down the river, clawing withmight and main to keep out of the woods. We tried the experiment fourtimes. I stood on the forecastle companion way to see. It wasastonishing to observe how suddenly the boat would spin around and turntail the moment she emerged from the eddy and the current struck hernose. The sounding concussion and the quivering would have been aboutthe same if she had come full speed against a sand-bank. Under thelightning flashes one could see the plantation cabins and the goodlyacres tumble into the river; and the crash they made was not a badeffort at thunder. Once, when we spun around, we only missed a houseabout twenty feet, that had a light burning in the window; and in thesame instant that house went overboard. Nobody could stay on ourforecastle; the water swept across it in a torrent every time we plungedathwart the current. At the end of our fourth effort we brought up inthe woods two miles below the cut-off; all the country there wasoverflowed, of course. A day or two later the cut-off was three-quartersof a mile wide, and boats passed up through 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 boatcame along there in the night and went around the enormous elbow theusual way, the pilots not knowing that the cut-off had been made. It wasa grisly, hideous night, and all shapes were vague and distorted. Theold bend had already begun to fill up, and the boat got to running awayfrom mysterious reefs, and occasionally hitting one. The perplexedpilots fell to swearing, and finally uttered the entirely unnecessarywish that they might never get out of that place. As always happens insuch cases, that particular prayer was answered, and the othersneglected. So to this day that phantom steamer is still butting aroundin that deserted river, trying to find her way out. More than one gravewatchman has sworn to me that on drizzly, dismal nights, he has glancedfearfully down that forgotten river as he passed the head of the island, and seen the faint glow of the specter steamer's lights drifting throughthe distant gloom, and heard the muffled cough of her 'scape-pipes andthe plaintive cry of her leadsmen. In the absence of further statistics, I beg to close this chapter withone more reminiscence of 'Stephen. ' Most of the captains and pilots held Stephen's note for borrowed sums, ranging from two hundred and fifty dollars upward. Stephen never paidone of these notes, but he was very prompt and very zealous aboutrenewing them every twelve months. Of course there came a time, at last, when Stephen could no longerborrow of his ancient creditors; so he was obliged to lie in wait fornew men who did not know him. Such a victim was good-hearted, simplenatured young Yates (I use a fictitious name, but the real name began, as this one does, with a Y). Young Yates graduated as a pilot, got aberth, and when the month was ended and he stepped up to the clerk'soffice and received his two hundred and fifty dollars in crisp newbills, Stephen was there! His silvery tongue began to wag, and in a verylittle while Yates's two hundred and fifty dollars had changed hands. The fact was soon known at pilot headquarters, and the amusement andsatisfaction of the old creditors were large and generous. But innocentYates never suspected that Stephen's promise to pay promptly at the endof the week was a worthless one. Yates called for his money at thestipulated time; Stephen sweetened him up and put him off a week. Hecalled then, according to agreement, and came away sugar-coated again, but suffering under another postponement. So the thing went on. Yateshaunted Stephen week after week, to no purpose, and at last gave it up. And then straightway Stephen began to haunt Yates! Wherever Yatesappeared, there was the inevitable Stephen. And not only there, butbeaming with affection and gushing with apologies for not being able topay. By and by, whenever poor Yates saw him coming, he would turn andfly, and drag his company with him, if he had company; but it was of nouse; his debtor would run him down and corner him. Panting and red-faced, Stephen would come, with outstretched hands and eager eyes, invade the conversation, shake both of Yates's arms loose in theirsockets, and begin-- 'My, what a race I've had! I saw you didn't see me, and so I clapped onall steam for fear I'd miss you entirely. And here you are! there, juststand 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 GOODto look at him! AIN'T it now? Ain't he just a picture! SOME call hima picture; I call him a panorama! That's what he is--an entire panorama. And now I'm reminded! How I do wish I could have seen you an hourearlier! For twenty-four hours I've been saving up that two hundred andfifty dollars for you; been looking for you everywhere. I waited at thePlanter's from six yesterday evening till two o'clock this morning, without rest or food; my wife says, "Where have you been all night?" Isaid, "This debt lies heavy on my mind. " She says, "In all my days Inever saw a man take a debt to heart the way you do. " I said, "It's mynature; how can I change it?" She says, "Well, do go to bed and get somerest. " 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 Istruck told me you had shipped on the "Grand Turk" and gone to NewOrleans. Well, sir, I had to lean up against a building and cry. Sohelp me goodness, I couldn't help it. The man that owned the place comeout cleaning up with a rag, and said he didn't like to have people cryagainst his building, and then it seemed to me that the whole world hadturned against me, and it wasn't any use to live any more; and comingalong an hour ago, suffering no man knows what agony, I met Jim Wilsonand paid him the two hundred and fifty dollars on account; and to thinkthat here you are, now, and I haven't got a cent! But as sure as I amstanding here on this ground on this particular brick, --there, I'vescratched a mark on the brick to remember it by, --I'll borrow that moneyand pay it over to you at twelve o'clock sharp, tomorrow! Now, standso; let me look at you just once more. ' And so on. Yates's life became a burden to him. He could not escapehis debtor and his debtor's awful sufferings on account of not beingable to pay. He dreaded to show himself in the street, lest he shouldfind Stephen lying in wait for him at the corner. Bogart's billiard saloon was a great resort for pilots in those days. They met there about as much to exchange river news as to play. Onemorning Yates was there; Stephen was there, too, but kept out of sight. But by and by, when about all the pilots had arrived who were in town, Stephen suddenly appeared in the midst, and rushed for Yates as for along-lost brother. 'OH, I am so glad to see you! Oh my soul, the sight of you is such acomfort to my eyes! Gentlemen, I owe all of you money; among you I oweprobably forty thousand dollars. I want to pay it; I intend to pay itevery last cent of it. You all know, without my telling you, whatsorrow it has cost me to remain so long under such deep obligations tosuch patient and generous friends; but the sharpest pang I suffer--byfar the sharpest--is from the debt I owe to this noble young man here;and I have come to this place this morning especially to make theannouncement that I have at last found a method whereby I can pay offall my debts! And most especially I wanted HIM to be here when Iannounced it. Yes, my faithful friend, --my benefactor, I've found themethod! I've found the method to pay off all my debts, and you'll getyour money!' Hope dawned in Yates's eye; then Stephen, beamingbenignantly, and placing his hand upon Yates's head, added, 'I am goingto pay them off in alphabetical order!' Then he turned and disappeared. The full significance of Stephen's'method' did not dawn upon the perplexed and musing crowd for some twominutes; and then Yates murmured with a sigh-- 'Well, the Y's stand a gaudy chance. He won't get any further than theC's in THIS world, and I reckon that after a good deal of eternity haswasted away in the next one, I'll still be referred to up there as "thatpoor, ragged pilot that came here from St. Louis in the early days!" Chapter 18 I Take a Few Extra Lessons DURING the two or two and a half years of my apprenticeship, I servedunder many pilots, and had experience of many kinds of steamboatmen andmany varieties of steamboats; for it was not always convenient for Mr. Bixby to have me with him, and in such cases he sent me with somebodyelse. I am to this day profiting somewhat by that experience; for inthat brief, sharp schooling, I got personally and familiarly acquaintedwith about all the different types of human nature that are to be foundin fiction, biography, or history. The fact is daily borne in upon me, that the average shore-employment requires as much as forty years toequip a man with this sort of an education. When I say I am stillprofiting by this thing, I do not mean that it has constituted me ajudge of men--no, it has not done that; for judges of men are born, notmade. My profit is various in kind and degree; but the feature of itwhich I value most is the zest which that early experience has given tomy later reading. When I find a well-drawn character in fiction orbiography, I generally take a warm personal interest in him, for thereason that I have known him before--met him on the river. The figure that comes before me oftenest, out of the shadows of thatvanished time, is that of Brown, of the steamer 'Pennsylvania'--the manreferred to in a former chapter, whose memory was so good and tiresome. He was a middle-aged, long, slim, bony, smooth-shaven, horse-faced, ignorant, stingy, malicious, snarling, fault hunting, mote-magnifyingtyrant. I early got the habit of coming on watch with dread at my heart. No matter how good a time I might have been having with the off-watchbelow, and no matter how high my spirits might be when I started aloft, my soul became lead in my body the moment I approached the pilot-house. I still remember the first time I ever entered the presence of that man. The boat had backed out from St. Louis and was 'straightening down;' Iascended to the pilot-house in high feather, and very proud to be semi-officially a member of the executive family of so fast and famous aboat. Brown was at the wheel. I paused in the middle of the room, allfixed to make my bow, but Brown did not look around. I thought he took afurtive glance at me out of the corner of his eye, but as not even thisnotice was repeated, I judged I had been mistaken. By this time he waspicking his way among some dangerous 'breaks' abreast the woodyards;therefore it would not be proper to interrupt him; so I stepped softlyto the high bench and took a seat. There was silence for ten minutes; then my new boss turned and inspectedme deliberately and painstakingly from head to heel for about--as itseemed to me--a quarter of an hour. After which he removed hiscountenance and I saw it no more for some seconds; then it came aroundonce more, and this question greeted me-- 'Are you Horace Bigsby's cub?' 'Yes, sir. ' After this there was a pause and another inspection. Then-- 'What's your name?' I told him. He repeated it after me. It was probably the only thing heever forgot; for although I was with him many months he never addressedhimself to me in any other way than 'Here!' and then his commandfollowed. 'Where was you born?' 'In Florida, Missouri. ' A pause. Then-- 'Dern sight better staid there!' By means of a dozen or so of pretty direct questions, he pumped myfamily history out of me. The leads were going now, in the first crossing. This interrupted theinquest. When the leads had been laid in, he resumed-- 'How long you been on the river?' I told him. After a pause-- 'Where'd you get them shoes?' I gave him the information. 'Hold up your foot!' I did so. He stepped back, examined the shoe minutely andcontemptuously, scratching his head thoughtfully, tilting his highsugar-loaf hat well forward to facilitate the operation, thenejaculated, 'Well, I'll be dod derned!' and returned to his wheel. What occasion there was to be dod derned about it is a thing which isstill as much of a mystery to me now as it was then. It must have beenall of fifteen minutes--fifteen minutes of dull, homesick silence--before that long horse-face swung round upon me again--and then, what achange! It was as red as fire, and every muscle in it was working. Nowcame this shriek-- 'Here!--You going to set there all day?' I lit in the middle of the floor, shot there by the electric suddennessof the surprise. As soon as I could get my voice I said, apologetically:--'I have had no orders, sir. ' 'You've had no ORDERS! My, what a fine bird we are! We must haveORDERS! Our father was a GENTLEMAN--owned slaves--and we've been toSCHOOL. Yes, WE are a gentleman, TOO, and got to have ORDERS! ORDERS, is it? ORDERS is what you want! Dod dern my skin, I'LL learn you toswell yourself up and blow around here about your dod-derned ORDERS!G'way from the wheel!' (I had approached it without knowing it. ) I moved back a step or two, and stood as in a dream, all my sensesstupefied by this frantic assault. 'What you standing there for? Take that ice-pitcher down to the texas-tender-come, move along, and don't you be all day about it!' The moment I got back to the pilot-house, Brown said-- 'Here! What was you doing down there all this time?' 'I couldn't find the texas-tender; I had to go all the way to thepantry. ' 'Derned likely story! Fill up the stove. ' I proceeded to do so. He watched me like a cat. Presently he shouted-- 'Put down that shovel! Deadest numskull I ever saw--ain't even gotsense enough to load up a stove. ' All through the watch this sort of thing went on. Yes, and thesubsequent watches were much like it, during a stretch of months. As Ihave said, I soon got the habit of coming on duty with dread. The momentI was in the presence, even in the darkest night, I could feel thoseyellow eyes upon me, and knew their owner was watching for a pretext tospit out some venom on me. Preliminarily he would say-- 'Here! Take the wheel. ' Two minutes later-- 'WHERE in the nation you going to? Pull her down! pull her down!' After another moment-- 'Say! You going to hold her all day? Let her go--meet her! meet her!' Then he would jump from the bench, snatch the wheel from me, and meether himself, pouring out wrath upon me all the time. George Ritchie was the other pilot's cub. He was having good times now;for his boss, George Ealer, was as kindhearted as Brown wasn't. Ritchiehad steeled for Brown the season before; consequently he knew exactlyhow to entertain himself and plague me, all by the one operation. Whenever I took the wheel for a moment on Ealer's watch, Ritchie wouldsit back on the bench and play Brown, with continual ejaculations of'Snatch her! snatch her! Derndest mud-cat I ever saw!' 'Here! Whereyou going NOW? Going to run over that snag?' 'Pull her DOWN! Don't youhear me? Pull her DOWN!' 'There she goes! JUST as I expected! I TOLDyou not to cramp that reef. G'way from the wheel!' So I always had a rough time of it, no matter whose watch it was; andsometimes it seemed to me that Ritchie's good-natured badgering waspretty nearly as aggravating as Brown's dead-earnest nagging. I often wanted to kill Brown, but this would not answer. A cub had totake everything his boss gave, in the way of vigorous comment andcriticism; and we all believed that there was a United States law makingit a penitentiary offense to strike or threaten a pilot who was on duty. However, I could IMAGINE myself killing Brown; there was no law againstthat; and that was the thing I used always to do the moment I was abed. Instead of going over my river in my mind as was my duty, I threwbusiness aside for pleasure, and killed Brown. I killed Brown everynight for months; not in old, stale, commonplace ways, but in new andpicturesque ones;--ways that were sometimes surprising for freshness ofdesign and ghastliness of situation and environment. Brown was ALWAYS watching for a pretext to find fault; and if he couldfind no plausible pretext, he would invent one. He would scold you forshaving a shore, and for not shaving it; for hugging a bar, and for nothugging it; for 'pulling down' when not invited, and for not pullingdown when not invited; for firing up without orders, and for waiting FORorders. In a word, it was his invariable rule to find fault withEVERYTHING you did; and another invariable rule of his was to throw allhis remarks (to you) into the form of an insult. One day we were approaching New Madrid, bound down and heavily laden. Brown was at one side of the wheel, steering; I was at the other, standing by to 'pull down' or 'shove up. ' He cast a furtive glance atme every now and then. I had long ago learned what that meant; viz. , hewas trying to invent a trap for me. I wondered what shape it was goingto take. By and by he stepped back from the wheel and said in his usualsnarly way-- 'Here!--See if you've got gumption enough to round her to. ' This was simply BOUND to be a success; nothing could prevent it; for hehad never allowed me to round the boat to before; consequently, nomatter how I might do the thing, he could find free fault with it. Hestood back there with his greedy eye on me, and the result was whatmight have been foreseen: I lost my head in a quarter of a minute, anddidn't know what I was about; I started too early to bring the boataround, but detected a green gleam of joy in Brown's eye, and correctedmy mistake; I started around once more while too high up, but correctedmyself again in time; I made other false moves, and still managed tosave myself; but at last I grew so confused and anxious that I tumbledinto the very worst blunder of all--I got too far down before beginningto fetch the boat around. Brown's chance was come. His face turned red with passion; he made one bound, hurled me acrossthe house with a sweep of his arm, spun the wheel down, and began topour out a stream of vituperation upon me which lasted till he was outof breath. In the course of this speech he called me all the differentkinds of hard names he could think of, and once or twice I thought hewas even going to swear--but he didn't this time. 'Dod dern' was thenearest he ventured to the luxury of swearing, for he had been broughtup with a wholesome respect for future fire and brimstone. That was an uncomfortable hour; for there was a big audience on thehurricane deck. When I went to bed that night, I killed Brown inseventeen different ways--all of them new. Chapter 19 Brown and I Exchange Compliments Two trips later, I got into serious trouble. Brown was steering; I was'pulling down. ' My younger brother appeared on the hurricane deck, andshouted to Brown to stop at some landing or other a mile or so below. Brown gave no intimation that he had heard anything. But that was hisway: he never condescended to take notice of an under clerk. The windwas blowing; Brown was deaf (although he always pretended he wasn't), and I very much doubted if he had heard the order. If I had two heads, Iwould have spoken; but as I had only one, it seemed judicious to takecare of it; so I kept still. Presently, sure enough, we went sailing by that plantation. CaptainKlinefelter appeared on the deck, and said-- 'Let her come around, sir, let her come around. Didn't Henry tell you toland here?' 'NO, sir!' 'I sent him up to do, it. ' 'He did come up; and that's all the good it done, the dod-derned fool. He never said anything. ' 'Didn't YOU hear him?' asked the captain of me. Of course I didn't want to be mixed up in this business, but there wasno way to avoid it; so I said-- 'Yes, sir. ' I knew what Brown's next remark would be, before he uttered it; it was-- 'Shut your mouth! you never heard anything of the kind. ' I closed my mouth according to instructions. An hour later, Henryentered the pilot-house, unaware of what had been going on. He was athoroughly inoffensive boy, and I was sorry to see him come, for I knewBrown would have no pity on him. Brown began, straightway-- 'Here! why didn't you tell me we'd got to land at that plantation?' 'I did tell you, Mr. Brown. ' 'It's a lie!' I said-- 'You lie, yourself. He did tell you. ' Brown glared at me in unaffected surprise; and for as much as a momenthe was entirely speechless; then he shouted to me-- 'I'll attend to your case in half a minute!' then to Henry, 'And youleave the pilot-house; out with you!' It was pilot law, and must be obeyed. The boy started out, and even hadhis foot on the upper step outside the door, when Brown, with a suddenaccess of fury, picked up a ten-pound lump of coal and sprang after him;but I was between, with a heavy stool, and I hit Brown a good honestblow which stretched-him out. I had committed the crime of crimes--I had lifted my hand against apilot on duty! I supposed I was booked for the penitentiary sure, andcouldn't be booked any surer if I went on and squared my long accountwith this person while I had the chance; consequently I stuck to him andpounded him with my fists a considerable time--I do not know how long, the pleasure of it probably made it seem longer than it really was;--butin the end he struggled free and jumped up and sprang to the wheel: avery natural solicitude, for, all this time, here was this steamboattearing down the river at the rate of fifteen miles an hour and nobodyat the helm! However, Eagle Bend was two miles wide at this bank-fullstage, and correspondingly long and deep; and the boat was steeringherself straight down the middle and taking no chances. Still, that wasonly luck--a body MIGHT have found her charging into the woods. Perceiving, at a glance, that the 'Pennsylvania' was in no danger, Browngathered up the big spy-glass, war-club fashion, and ordered me out ofthe pilot-house with more than Comanche bluster. But I was not afraid ofhim now; so, instead of going, I tarried, and criticized his grammar; Ireformed his ferocious speeches for him, and put them into good English, calling his attention to the advantage of pure English over the bastarddialect of the Pennsylvanian collieries whence he was extracted. Hecould have done his part to admiration in a cross-fire of merevituperation, of course; but he was not equipped for this species ofcontroversy; so he presently laid aside his glass and took the wheel, muttering and shaking his head; and I retired to the bench. The rackethad brought everybody to the hurricane deck, and I trembled when I sawthe old captain looking up from the midst of the crowd. I said tomyself, 'Now I AM done for!'--For although, as a rule, he was sofatherly and indulgent toward the boat's family, and so patient of minorshortcomings, he could be stern enough when the fault was worth it. I tried to imagine what he WOULD do to a cub pilot who had been guiltyof such a crime as mine, committed on a boat guard-deep with costlyfreight and alive with passengers. Our watch was nearly ended. Ithought I would go and hide somewhere till I got a chance to slideashore. So I slipped out of the pilot-house, and down the steps, andaround to the texas door--and was in the act of gliding within, when thecaptain confronted me! I dropped my head, and he stood over me insilence a moment or two, then said impressively-- 'Follow me. ' I dropped into his wake; he led the way to his parlor in the forward endof the texas. We were alone, now. He closed the after door; then movedslowly to the forward one and closed that. He sat down; I stood beforehim. He looked at me some little time, then said-- 'So you have been fighting Mr. Brown?' I answered meekly-- 'Yes, sir. ' 'Do you know that that is a very serious matter?' 'Yes, sir. ' 'Are you aware that this boat was plowing down the river fully fiveminutes with no one at the wheel?' 'Yes, sir. ' 'Did you strike him first?' 'Yes, sir. ' 'What with?' 'A stool, sir. ' 'Hard?' 'Middling, sir. ' 'Did it knock him down?' 'He--he fell, sir. ' 'Did you follow it up? Did you do anything further?' 'Yes, sir. ' 'What did you do?' 'Pounded him, sir. ' 'Pounded him?' 'Yes, sir. ' 'Did you pound him much?--that is, severely?' 'One might call it that, sir, maybe. ' 'I'm deuced glad of it! Hark ye, never mention that I said that. Youhave been guilty of a great crime; and don't you ever be guilty of itagain, on this boat. BUT--lay for him ashore! Give him a good soundthrashing, do you hear? I'll pay the expenses. Now go--and mind you, not a word of this to anybody. Clear out with you!--you've been guiltyof a great crime, you whelp!' I slid out, happy with the sense of a close shave and a mightydeliverance; and I heard him laughing to himself and slapping his fatthighs after I had closed his door. When Brown came off watch he went straight to the captain, who wastalking with some passengers on the boiler deck, and demanded that I beput ashore in New Orleans--and added-- 'I'll never turn a wheel on this boat again while that cub stays. ' The captain said-- 'But he needn't come round when you are on watch, Mr. Brown. 'I won't even stay on the same boat with him. One of us has got to goashore. ' 'Very well, ' said the captain, 'let it be yourself;' and resumed histalk with the passengers. During the brief remainder of the trip, I knew how an emancipated slavefeels; for I was an emancipated slave myself. While we lay at landings, I listened to George Ealer's flute; or to his readings from his twobibles, that is to say, Goldsmith and Shakespeare; or I played chesswith him--and would have beaten him sometimes, only he always took backhis last move and ran the game out differently. Chapter 20 A Catastrophe WE lay three days in New Orleans, but the captain did not succeed infinding another pilot; so he proposed that I should stand a daylightwatch, and leave the night watches to George Ealer. But I was afraid; Ihad never stood a watch of any sort by myself, and I believed I shouldbe sure to get into trouble in the head of some chute, or ground theboat in a near cut through some bar or other. Brown remained in hisplace; but he would not travel with me. So the captain gave me an orderon the captain of the 'A. T. Lacey, ' for a passage to St. Louis, andsaid he would find a new pilot there and my steersman's berth could thenbe resumed. The 'Lacey' was to leave a couple of days after the'Pennsylvania. ' The night before the 'Pennsylvania' left, Henry and I sat chatting on afreight pile on the levee till midnight. The subject of the chat, mainly, was one which I think we had not exploited before--steamboatdisasters. One was then on its way to us, little as we suspected it;the water which was to make the steam which should cause it, was washingpast some point fifteen hundred miles up the river while we talked;--butit would arrive at the right time and the right place. We doubted ifpersons not clothed with authority were of much use in cases of disasterand attendant panic; still, they might be of SOME use; so we decidedthat if a disaster ever fell within our experience we would at leaststick to the boat, and give such minor service as chance might throw inthe way. Henry remembered this, afterward, when the disaster came, andacted accordingly. The 'Lacey' started up the river two days behind the 'Pennsylvania. ' Wetouched at Greenville, Mississippi, a couple of days out, and somebodyshouted-- 'The "Pennsylvania" is blown up at Ship Island, and a hundred and fiftylives lost!' At Napoleon, Arkansas, the same evening, we got an extra, issued by aMemphis paper, which gave some particulars. It mentioned my brother, andsaid he was not hurt. Further up the river we got a later extra. My brother was againmentioned; but this time as being hurt beyond help. We did not get fulldetails of the catastrophe until we reached Memphis. This is thesorrowful story-- It was six o'clock on a hot summer morning. The 'Pennsylvania' wascreeping along, north of Ship Island, about sixty miles below Memphis ona half-head of steam, towing a wood-flat which was fast being emptied. George Ealer was in the pilot-house-alone, I think; the second engineerand a striker had the watch in the engine room; the second mate had thewatch on deck; George Black, Mr. Wood, and my brother, clerks, wereasleep, as were also Brown and the head engineer, the carpenter, thechief mate, and one striker; Captain Klinefelter was in the barber'schair, and the barber was preparing to shave him. There were a goodmany cabin passengers aboard, and three or four hundred deck passengers--so it was said at the time--and not very many of them were astir. Thewood being nearly all out of the flat now, Ealer rang to 'come ahead'full steam, and the next moment four of the eight boilers exploded witha thunderous crash, and the whole forward third of the boat was hoistedtoward the sky! The main part of the mass, with the chimneys, droppedupon the boat again, a mountain of riddled and chaotic rubbish--andthen, after a little, fire broke out. Many people were flung to considerable distances, and fell in the river;among these were Mr. Wood and my brother, and the carpenter. Thecarpenter was still stretched upon his mattress when he struck the waterseventy-five feet from the boat. Brown, the pilot, and George Black, chief clerk, were never seen or heard of after the explosion. Thebarber's chair, with Captain Klinefelter in it and unhurt, was left withits back overhanging vacancy--everything forward of it, floor and all, had disappeared; and the stupefied barber, who was also unhurt, stoodwith one toe projecting over space, still stirring his latherunconsciously, and saying, not a word. When George Ealer saw the chimneys plunging aloft in front of him, heknew what the matter was; so he muffled his face in the lapels of hiscoat, and pressed both hands there tightly to keep this protection inits place so that no steam could get to his nose or mouth. He had ampletime to attend to these details while he was going up and returning. Hepresently landed on top of the unexploded boilers, forty feet below theformer pilot-house, accompanied by his wheel and a rain of other stuff, and enveloped in a cloud of scalding steam. All of the many who breathedthat steam, died; none escaped. But Ealer breathed none of it. He madehis way to the free air as quickly as he could; and when the steamcleared away he returned and climbed up on the boilers again, andpatiently hunted out each and every one of his chessmen and the severaljoints of his flute. By this time the fire was beginning to threaten. Shrieks and groansfilled the air. A great many persons had been scalded, a great manycrippled; the explosion had driven an iron crowbar through one man'sbody--I think they said he was a priest. He did not die at once, and hissufferings were very dreadful. A young French naval cadet, of fifteen, son of a French admiral, was fearfully scalded, but bore his torturesmanfully. Both mates were badly scalded, but they stood to their posts, nevertheless. They drew the wood-boat aft, and they and the captainfought back the frantic herd of frightened immigrants till the woundedcould be brought there and placed in safety first. When Mr. Wood and Henry fell in the water, they struck out for shore, which was only a few hundred yards away; but Henry presently said hebelieved he was not hurt (what an unaccountable error!), and thereforewould swim back to the boat and help save the wounded. So they parted, and Henry returned. By this time the fire was making fierce headway, and several persons whowere imprisoned under the ruins were begging piteously for help. Allefforts to conquer the fire proved fruitless; so the buckets werepresently thrown aside and the officers fell-to with axes and tried tocut the prisoners out. A striker was one of the captives; he said he wasnot injured, but could not free himself; and when he saw that the firewas likely to drive away the workers, he begged that some one wouldshoot him, and thus save him from the more dreadful death. The fire diddrive the axmen away, and they had to listen, helpless, to this poorfellow's supplications till the flames ended his miseries. The fire drove all into the wood-flat that could be accommodated there;it was cut adrift, then, and it and the burning steamer floated down theriver toward Ship Island. They moored the flat at the head of theisland, and there, unsheltered from the blazing sun, the half-nakedoccupants had to remain, without food or stimulants, or help for theirhurts, during the rest of the day. A steamer came along, finally, andcarried the unfortunates to Memphis, and there the most lavishassistance was at once forthcoming. By this time Henry was insensible. The physicians examined his injuries and saw that they were fatal, andnaturally turned their main attention to patients who could be saved. Forty of the wounded were placed upon pallets on the floor of a greatpublic hall, and among these was Henry. There the ladies of Memphiscame every day, with flowers, fruits, and dainties and delicacies of allkinds, and there they remained and nursed the wounded. All thephysicians stood watches there, and all the medical students; and therest of the town furnished money, or whatever else was wanted. AndMemphis knew how to do all these things well; for many a disaster likethe 'Pennsylvania's' had happened near her doors, and she wasexperienced, above all other cities on the river, in the gracious officeof the Good Samaritan' The sight I saw when I entered that large hall was new and strange tome. Two long rows of prostrate forms--more than forty, in all--and everyface and head a shapeless wad of loose raw cotton. It was a gruesomespectacle. I watched there six days and nights, and a very melancholyexperience it was. There was one daily incident which was peculiarlydepressing: this was the removal of the doomed to a chamber apart. Itwas done in order that the MORALE of the other patients might not beinjuriously affected by seeing one of their number in the death-agony. The fated one was always carried out with as little stir as possible, and the stretcher was always hidden from sight by a wall of assistants;but no matter: everybody knew what that cluster of bent forms, with itsmuffled step and its slow movement meant; and all eyes watched itwistfully, and a shudder went abreast of it like a wave. I saw many poor fellows removed to the 'death-room, ' and saw them nomore afterward. But I saw our chief mate carried thither more thanonce. His hurts were frightful, especially his scalds. He was clothedin linseed oil and raw cotton to his waist, and resembled nothing human. He was often out of his mind; and then his pains would make him rave andshout and sometimes shriek. Then, after a period of dumb exhaustion, his disordered imagination would suddenly transform the great apartmentinto a forecastle, and the hurrying throng of nurses into the crew; andhe would come to a sitting posture and shout, 'Hump yourselves, HUMPyourselves, you petrifactions, snail-bellies, pall-bearers! going to beall DAY getting that hatful of freight out?' and supplement thisexplosion with a firmament-obliterating irruption or profanity whichnothing could stay or stop till his crater was empty. And now and thenwhile these frenzies possessed him, he would tear off handfuls of thecotton and expose his cooked flesh to view. It was horrible. It was badfor the others, of course--this noise and these exhibitions; so thedoctors tried to give him morphine to quiet him. But, in his mind orout of it, he would not take it. He said his wife had been killed bythat treacherous drug, and he would die before he would take it. Hesuspected that the doctors were concealing it in his ordinary medicinesand in his water--so he ceased from putting either to his lips. Once, when he had been without water during two sweltering days, he took thedipper in his hand, and the sight of the limpid fluid, and the misery ofhis thirst, tempted him almost beyond his strength; but he masteredhimself and threw it away, and after that he allowed no more to bebrought near him. Three times I saw him carried to the death-room, insensible and supposed to be dying; but each time he revived, cursedhis attendants, and demanded to be taken back. He lived to be mate of asteamboat again. But he was the only one who went to the death-room and returned alive. Dr. Peyton, a principal physician, and rich in all the attributes thatgo to constitute high and flawless character, did all that educatedjudgment and trained skill could do for Henry; but, as the newspapershad said in the beginning, his hurts were past help. On the evening ofthe sixth day his wandering mind busied itself with matters far away, and his nerveless fingers 'picked at his coverlet. ' His hour had struck;we bore him to the death-room, poor boy.