Motor Boat Boys Mississippi Cruise; or, The Dash for Dixie — John Shaqi
Motor Boat Boys Mississippi Cruise; or, The Dash for DixieArundel, Louis
General
Motor Boat Boys Mississippi Cruise; or, The Dash for Dixie
Arundel, Louis
Mississippi River -- Juvenile fiction; Motorboats -- Juvenile fiction
A close inspection failed to disclose any structural weakness about any
one of the three boats, or their motive power. Of course, each pilot
was convinced in his own mind that he had the best chance to win.
George relied mainly on speed; Herb placed his dependence on the well
known ability of his broad-beamed boat to stand up before heavy seas,
and always get there safely in the end; while with Jack there was a
combination of these several points of excellence.
"Well," the last named remarked, as they prepared to go home, and the
boathouse was being locked up for the night; "I can see where we're
going to have a warm time of it in the last half of the race."
"How's that?" burst forth the eager Nick. "Tell us, Jack; it ain't
fair to keep anything back. Will they arrest us for breaking the speed
laws down south?"
"See!" cried Herb, instantly, "that's where a guilty conscience works
overtime. It's just what he gets for risking his life in that floating
coffin," and he jerked his thumb disdainfully toward the building they
were leaving.
At that the proud owner of the cigar-shaped craft laughed aloud.
"Green with envy already, Herb!" he exclaimed. "Don't you pay any
attention to what he says, Pudding. We're just going to lick the whole
bunch to a frazzle, and that's easy. Now, Jack, suppose you tell us
what's on your mind? How are we going to have lots of trouble in the
last half, more than in the beginning?"
"When you fellows begin to study those maps of the Mississippi I
brought you, it will open your eyes," Jack went on. "Why, the upper
stretches of this river are as straight as a yard stick compared with
what lies below Memphis. If ever you saw a snake turning and twisting
after you've hit him with a stone you've got an idea of what the big
river is down there in Dixie. It forms loops and bends galore. It
turns back north, runs east, then west and for a short time south. For
ten miles southing you make you have to go thirty."
"Well, I understood that was the way; but why should that bother us?"
demanded George. "What's fair for one is fair for all. We'll hug the
easterly shore all we can, and save many a mile."
"Perhaps you will," smiled Jack, "and then again the current races
faster out in the middle, so the boat that ventures may profit by that.
But what I had in mind was the innumerable cut-offs we're apt to
strike."
"Cut-offs!" exclaimed Nick, turning a trifle pale, as though he thought
this had something to do with the favorite southern lynching bee.
"Oh! I know about those things," declared Herb, carelessly.
"Sometimes a native can save twenty miles by shooting through where a
passage runs across a neck of wooded land. But I guess the good old
_Comfort_ will stick to the main stream. I may be the tortoise in this
race, but there's lots of chances the hares will lie down for a little
nap in the way, and let me go past."
"But it's fair to take advantage of a cut-off, ain't it?" asked George.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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