Up the River; or, Yachting on the MississippiOptic, Oliver
General
Up the River; or, Yachting on the Mississippi
Optic, Oliver
Mississippi River -- Juvenile fiction; Yachts -- Juvenile fiction
I had hardly come to a decision before we saw a large body floating
down the river. We could not make out what it was at first. A bend of
the river swept it over to the side on which we were sailing, and
Washburn headed out for the middle to avoid it. We soon ascertained
that it was an old flatboat, such as come down the great river with a
cargo of coal, lumber, grain, or other merchandise, and is then broken
up, because it will not pay its cost to take it back to the point from
which it started.
The flatboat came down the stream broadside to, though we saw it make
two or three whirls as it advanced. It had evidently broken loose from
its moorings at or near the city, and was on its way to the gulf on its
own account. After passing the bend, the current began to carry it out
into the middle of the river, and we were obliged to sheer off again to
avoid a collision with it. I breathed easier when I saw it astern of
the Sylvania.
"I should not like to make that thing out, close aboard of us in the
dark," said Washburn.
"Would you like to have it drift against you while moored to the
shore?" I asked.
"I should not; but that would be better than hitting it with full steam
on. But we must haul up in the right place. We needn't choose a place
where the current sets against the shore, as it does at a bend. I
should haul her up on the other side of the river, and then anything
floating on its own hook will be carried away from us," replied
Washburn.
"The logic is correct, and we will seek such a place as you describe."
The sight of the flatboat assured me that it was not safe to run in the
night, at least during high water, when the current was bearing off
houses, vessels, and other cumbrous things. Running over a floating log
might disable our propeller, and we should be helpless then. There were
but few great bends in this part of the river, much as the mighty
stream twists about above New Orleans. I kept a lookout for a suitable
place to moor the steamer to the shore.
The supper-bell had just rung when I saw such a place as I had been
looking for. On the right bank was a point of land where a considerable
bend sent the whole force of the powerful current over to the other
side of the river. I rang the bell to reduce the speed, as I pointed
out the spot to the mate. He ran the nose of the boat up to the bank,
and Buck jumped ashore with a line, with which a hawser was drawn to
the land. It was made fast to a pine-tree, and no other line seemed to
be needed.
I could see the Islander about two miles down the river. We all went
down to supper except a hand to notify us of danger from any source. I
was not at my meal more than fifteen minutes, for I had dined late.
When I came on deck, the Islander was almost abreast of the Sylvania.
Colonel Shepard was in the pilot-house with the captain, and they
seemed to be in earnest conversation.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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