Phil did not join in the dance, for he had discovered a cause of anxiety. Their pilot was making a great show of activity where none whatever was needed. From the Ferry street landing to “The Point” the current ran swiftly in a straight line, and if let alone, the boat would have gone in precisely the right direction. But Hughes was not letting her alone. With long sweeps of his great steering-oar he was driving her out dangerously near the head of the bar, now under water but still a shoal. Phil, who was observing closely, called out:-- “I say, Jim, you must run further inshore, or you’ll hit the head of the bar.” “Lem me alone,” said Jim. “I know the river.” Just then the boat scraped bottom on the bar. Phil called out quickly:-- “All hands to the larboard oars! Give it to her hard!” and himself seizing the steering oar, he managed by a hair’s breadth to swing the great box--for that is all that a flatboat is--into the deep and rapid channel near the Indiana shore. As she drifted into safe water, Phil said:-- “That’s incident number one in the voyage.” “Yes, and it came pretty near being chapter first and last in the log-book of _The Last of the Flatboats_,” replied Irv Strong. For several miles now there was nothing to do but float. But Phil was closely watching Jim Hughes and observed that that worthy made three visits to the hold,--as the cargo part of the boat is called,--going down each time by the forward ladder and not by the stairs leading to the cabin. When the boat reached the big eddy about half a mile above Craig’s Landing, it was necessary for all hands to go to the oars again in order to make the landing. Presently Phil observed that Hughes was steering wildly. His efforts with the steering oar were throwing the boat far out into the river, away from the shore on which they were to land, and directly toward the head of a strong channel which at this stage of water ran like a mill-race along the Kentucky shore on the farther side of Craig’s bar. Should the boat be sucked into that channel, she would be carried many miles down the stream before she could ever be landed even on the wrong side of the river, and she could never come back to Craig’s Landing unless towed back by a steamboat. Phil, seeing the danger, asked: “Why don’t you keep her inshore?” “None o’ yer business. I’m steerin’,” answered the pilot. One quick, searching glance showed Phil the extent of the man’s drunkenness,--or his pretence of drunkenness,--for Phil had doubts of it. There were certain indications lacking. Yet if the fellow was shamming, he was doing it exceedingly well. His tongue seemed thick, his eyes glazed, and his walk across the deck appeared to be a mere stagger, supported by the great oar that he was wielding to such mischievous effect.