Captain Bayley's Heir: A Tale of the Gold Fields of California

"It varies," Hiram replied; "sometimes it's sluggish, as you see it here, sometimes it runs like a mill-stream. The art of sailing here is to know the river; for what with its back currents and its eddies, its channels behind islands and its sandbanks, one who knows it can manage to make his way up, while one who didn't know would be drifting backward instead of getting forward. That's what you have got to learn. Fortunately the wind generally blows up the stream; when it don't it's a case of down anchor. There are places where one can hardly get along unless the wind happens to be unusually strong, and there I generally get a tow. The boss has got about twenty steamers on the river, so we don't generally have to wait many hours before one comes along. The tugs is gradually doing away with sailing boats, and in time there won't be many of our kind of craft left; but they are useful, you see, for small places where the steamers don't stop, and for the rivers which run into the Mississippi."

The next morning at daybreak the sail was hoisted, the hawsers thrown off from the shore, and the flat made her way up the river. Frank was surprised to see how fast she sailed, although the wind was but light. The work was easy, for the wind was steady and they seldom sailed at night, the wind generally dropping at sundown. They touched at numerous little settlements, and gradually got rid of the cargo with which they had started.

Sometimes they left the main river and sailed for many miles by narrow channels, where the current, for the most part, was almost imperceptible. They were more than a month from the time they started before they reached the spot at which they were to take in the cargo for their return voyage. The flat was then loaded up with grain, which was put in in bulk and covered with tarpaulin; the boat was now laden down nearly to the water's edge.

The downward voyage differed widely from that up the river; the sail was now seldom used, and instead of skirting the shores they kept in mid-channel, from time to time directing the boat's course by the use of the sweeps. The moon was nearly full when they started, and they continued their voyage by night as well as day. Hiram and Frank took it by turns to be on watch; but the former was seldom down below, except on the rare occasions when the river was free from shoals.

Frank had by this time learned by the ripples on the water to detect the shallows, and could direct the course without assistance; but as soon as the splash of oars was heard on the water, Hiram was sure to appear on deck, however short the time since he had retired to rest.

"You are seeing the river at its best," he was saying one day. "It is about half-full now; when the water's low, the channel where we can pass loaded is often only fifty yards wide, with the water running through it like a sluice. When the water is in flood there is no fear of shoals, but you have got to look about, for it is full of floating trees and logs; when these get stuck we call them snags, and if you were to run on one of them the chances are it would knock a hole as big as a cask in her bottom, and down you would go in two or three minutes."

CHAPTER VII.

ON THE MISSISSIPPI

"WE are going to have a change of weather, I reckon," Hiram said one afternoon as they were drifting down the stream during their second voyage. "You have been lucky since we started, but we are going to have a change at last; and I can tell you when it blows here it's a caution. They have been having a lot of rain up the country, for the river has been rising regular for the last ten days. We had best make fast for the night, and the sooner we does it the better, for the wind is getting up fast and the rain is just a-going to begin."

In a quarter of an hour the boat was moored to a great tree at the lower end of an island.

"We shall be snug here," he said, "and out of the way of the drift that will be coming down presently. You can turn in and take a long spell of sleep to-night, for sometimes those storms last for days when they come on this time of year, and you will see there will be a sea on that the boat could hardly live in. I wish we had stopped two hours ago; there was a creek where we could have run her in and been snug all through it, but I didn't think it was coming up so quick, and it's too far on to the next place to risk it; however, I expect we shall do very well here."

In another half-hour the gale burst upon them furiously, and Frank congratulated himself that the boat was snugly moored. The thick muddy water of the river was speedily lashed into angry waves; the rain came down in torrents, and although the left-hand bank was but a quarter of a mile distant it was soon lost to view. Frank was glad to leave the deck and crawl into the little cabin, and sit down to a hot meal which the negro cook had prepared.

"Better here than outside, my lad," Hiram said. "I can go as wet as any man if need be, but I like to keep a dry jacket when I can. The wind is just howling outside. I reckon this is going to be a bigger storm nor ordinary, and I have seen some biggish storms on the Mississippi too. I have had some narrer escapes of it, I can tell you, special in the days before there was nary a tug on the river, and we had to row or pole all the way up; besides there ain't so many trees brought down as there used to be in a flood, seeing as the country is getting more and more cleared every day.

"I reckon the time will come when you will be able to go up either the Mississippi or Missouri to the upper waters without seeing a tree drifting down, and when there won't be a snag in their beds. I mind the time when the snags were ten times worse than they is now. I mind once we ran on one of the darned things in pretty nigh as wild a night as this is going to be. I had six hands along with me, and we wanted to get down, 'cause we knew the old man would have a cargo ready for us, and we wanted a run of a day or two on shore at Orleans before we started up again, so we held on. The wind was higher than we reckoned on, and we was just saying we should have done better to tie up, when there was a crash. I thought at first that she would have gone over with the shock, but she didn't – not that it would have made much odds, for there was a snag through her bottom, and the water pouring in like a sluice. It was darkish, but we could make out there was some trees a boat's-length or two ahead which had been caught as they rolled down by another snag, and hung there. The boat didn't float more than a minute after she struck, and then we were all in the river, those who couldn't swim gripping hold of the oars and poles; half a minute and we were all clinging to the boughs, and hoisting ourselves as well as might be clear of the water.

"I tell you, lad, that was a night. It wasn't that we was drenched to the skin with the rain pouring down, and the wind cutting through us – that kind of thing comes natural to a boatman – but it was the oncertainty of the thing. The trees moved and swayed with the waves and current; the flood we knew was rising still, and any moment they might break away from the snag and go whirling along, over and over, down the river. Even if they didn't break away of theirselves, another tree might drive down on us, and if it did, the chances was strong as the hull affair would break loose.

"All that night and all next day we hung on, and then the wind went down a bit, and a nigger who had made us out from the shore came off in a dug-out and took us ashore in two trips. That war a close shave. The wind was northerly and bitter cold, and I don't believe as we could have hung on another night more nor that. Next morning, when we turned out from the nigger's hut to have a look round, there wasn't no sign of them thar trees, they had just gone down the river in the night. Yes, I have had a good many narrow shaves of it, but I do think as that war the narrowest."

"Well, I am heartily glad," Frank said, "that we are tied safely up, out of the way of floating trees, snags, or anything of the kind. I always like hearing the wind when I am snug, and I shall sleep sound knowing that I am not going to hear your shout of 'Watch on deck' in my ear."

In spite of the howling of the gale Frank slept soundly. But he could scarcely believe that it was broad daylight when he awoke; the light was dim and leaden, and when he went out from the cabin he was startled at the aspect of the river. The waves had risen until it resembled an angry sea, the yellow masses of water being tipped with foam; the clouds hung so low that they almost touched the top of the trees; the rain was still falling, and the drops almost hurt from the violence with which they were driven by the wind. The river had risen considerably during the night, and the lower end of the island was already submerged; boughs of trees and driftwood were hurrying along with the stream, and more than one great tree passed, now lifting an arm high in the air, now almost hidden in the waves, as it turned over and over in its rapid course. Frank felt glad indeed that the boat lay in comparatively sheltered waters, though even here the swell caused her at times to roll violently.

"What do you think of it, lad?" Hiram, who had risen some time before Frank, asked.

"It is a wonderfully wild scene," Frank said enthusiastically, "a grand scene! I should not have had an idea that such a sea could have got up on any river. Look at that great tree rolling down, it looks as if it was wrestling for life."

"The wrestle is over, lad, there ain't no more life for that tree; it will just drift along till it either catches on a sandbank and settles down as a snag, or it will drift down to the mouth of the Mississippi, and may be help to choke up some of the shallow channels, or it may chance to strike the deep channel, and go away right out into the Gulf of Florida, and then the barnacles will get hold of it, and it will drift and drift till at last it will get heavier than the water, and then down it will go to the bottom and lie there till there ain't no more left of it. No, lad, there ain't no more life for that tree."

"May be it will wash ashore near the city, or some plantation," Frank said, "and be hauled up and cut into timber, or perhaps into firewood. After all, the useful life of a tree begins with its fall."

"Right you are, lad; yes, that might happen, and I am glad you put it in my mind, for somehow I have always had a sorter pity for a tree when I see it sweeping down in a flood like this. Somehow it's like looking at a drowned man; but, as you say, there's a chance of its getting through it and coming to be of use after all, and what can a tree wish better than that? But we had best be hauling the boat up to the tree and shifting the rope up the trunk a bit; it's just level with the water now, and was nigh eight feet above when we tied it yesterday. I tell you if this goes on there will be some big floods, for it will try the levees, and if they go there ain't no saying what damage may be done in the plantations."

All day the wind blew with unabated fury, and when evening came on Frank thought that it was increasing rather than diminishing in force.

"Let's have a glass of grog and tumble in, my lad," Hiram said, "it gives one the dismals to listen to the wind." They had scarcely wrapped themselves in their blankets when the boat swayed as if struck by an even stronger blast than usual; then there was a sudden crash, which rose even above the howling of the gale.

"What's that?" Frank exclaimed, sitting up.

"It's the tree," Hiram began; but while the words were in his mouth there was a shock and a crash, the roof of the little cabin was stove in, and the boat heeled over until they thought it was going to capsize. Frank was thrown on to the floor with the violence of the shock, but speedily gained his feet.

"What has happened?" he exclaimed.

"The tree has gone," Hiram said; "I have been looking at it all the afternoon, but I didn't want to scare you by telling you as I thought it might go. It's lucky it didn't fall directly on us, or it would have knocked the boat into pieces. The door is jammed. Get hold of that hatchet, lad, and make a shift to get your head out to look round and see what we are doing. Do you hear them niggers holloaing like so many tom-cats? What good do they suppose that will do?"

"I can't see anything," Frank said when he looked out; "it's pitch dark. I will make this hole a bit bigger, and then I will take the lantern and crawl forward and see what has become of the blacks. I am afraid the tree has stove the boat in: look at the water coming up through the float-boards."

"Ay, I expect she is smashed somewhere; it could hardly be otherwise; I reckon this is going to be about as bad a job as the one I was telling you about. Here, lad, put this bottle of rum into your jacket and this loaf of bread; I will take this here chunk of cold beef; like enough we may want 'em afore we are done."

When Frank had enlarged the hole sufficiently to allow his body to pass through, he put the lantern through and then crawled out. He was in a tangle of branches and leaves. The head-rope was a long one; the tree had fallen directly towards them, and the boat was, as far as Frank could see, wedged in between the branches, which forked some forty feet above the roots; a cross branch had stove in the cabin top, and another rested across the scuttle of the cabin used by the negroes.

"Hand me the axe, sharp, Hiram," he said; "the niggers can't get out, and our bow isn't a foot out of water."

Hiram handed up the axe, seized another, and with a great effort squeezed himself through the hole and joined Frank in the fore-part of the boat, which was waist-deep in water.

"Never mind the branch, lad, that will take too long to cut through, and another two or three minutes will do their business; here, rip off two or three of those planks, that will be the quickest way."

Although impeded in their work by the network of boughs, they speedily got off two or three planks and hauled up the frightened negroes. It was but just in time, for there were but a few inches between the water and the top of the low cabin.

"Shut your mouths and drop that howling," Hiram said, "and grip hold of the tree; the boat will sink under our feet in another minute. Stick to your lantern, lad, a light is a comfort anyhow; I'll fetch another from the cabin, and some candles; I know just where they are, and can feel them in the water."

In a minute he rejoined Frank, who was sitting astride of one of the branches.

"That's a bit of luck," he said; "the candles are dry. There ain't more than two feet of water in her aft."

Three or four minutes passed, and the boat still lay beneath their feet, sinking, apparently, no lower. "I will look round again," Hiram said; "it seems to me as she has got jammed, and won't go any lower."

Examining the boat, he found that it was so; she was so completely wedged among the branches that she could sink no lower.

"It's all right," he said joyously. "Jump down, all of you, and lend a hand and unreeve the halliards from the mast and bind her as tight as you can to the branches; pass the ropes under the thwarts. Make haste before she shakes herself free." For the tree, now well clear of the shelter of the land, was swaying heavily.

The work was soon done, and the boat securely fastened to the tree.

"How is it the tree lies steady without rolling over and over, Hiram?" Frank asked, after they paused on the completion of the work.

"I reckon it's the boat as keeps it steady, lad. As long as she lies here she is no weight, but she would be a big weight to lift out of water, and I reckon she keeps the whole affair steady. It couldn't be better if we had planned it. All these boughs break the force of the waves, and keep off a good bit of the wind too; we ain't going to do badly after all."

"Pete, get me that half-bottle of rum from my locker and a tin mug. That is right. Now here is a good strong tot each for you to make your faces black again; you were white with fear when we got you out of that cabin, and I don't blame you; I should have been in just as bad a fright myself if I had been there, though I shouldn't have made such a noise over it. Still, one can't expect men of one colour to have the same ways as those of another, and I am bound to say that if the boat had gone down your boss would have lost four good pieces of property. Feel more comfortable – eh?"

The negroes grinned assent. Easily cast down, their spirits were as easily raised, and seeing that the white men appeared to consider that there was no urgent danger, they soon plucked up their courage.

"I think," Frank said, "the best thing will be to manage to get the cabin door open. We can put a tarpaulin over the hole in the roof, and we shall then have a shelter we can go into; the water is not over the lockers, but I shouldn't like to go in until we get the door open. If this tree did take it into its head to turn round, it would be awkward if there were two or three of us in there, with only that hole to scramble through."

"You are about right, lad; it will be a sight more comfortable than sitting here, for what with the rain and the splashing up of this broken water one might as well be under a pump."

The axes were called into requisition again, for the door was jammed too firmly to be moved.

"Chop it up, and shove the pieces under the tarpaulin, Sam; they will get a bit drier there, and we may want them for a fire presently; there is no saying how long we may be in this here floating forest. That's right. Now, hang one of them lanterns up in the cabin. That's not so bad. Now, lad, our clothes-bags are all right on these hooks. I am just going to rig myself up in a dry shirt and jacket, and advise you to do the same; we may as well have the upper half dry if we must be wet below."

Frank was glad to follow Hiram's example, and a dry flannel shirt made him feel thoroughly warm and comfortable. He handed a shirt to each of the negroes, and the whole party, clustered in the little cabin, were soon comparatively warm and cheerful, in spite of the water, which came up to their knees, and when the boat rose on a wave, swashed up over the locker on which they were sitting. A supply of dry tobacco and some pipes were produced by Hiram, and the little cabin was soon thick with smoke.

"Taking it altogether," Hiram said, "I regard this as about the queerest sarcumstance that ever happened to me; it was just a thousand to one that tree would have smashed us up and sunk us then and thar. It was another thousand to one that when we were staved in we shouldn't have got fixed so that the boat couldn't sink; if any one had told it me as a yarn I should not have believed it."

"It has indeed been a wonderful escape," Frank said, "and I think now that we should be ungrateful indeed if every one of us did not fervently thank God for having preserved us."

"Right you are, lad; praying ain't much in my way – not regular praying; but we men as lives a life like this, and knows that at any moment a snag may go through the boat's bottom, thinks of these things at times, and knows that our lives are in God's hands. It ain't in nature to go up and down this broad river, special at night, when the stars are shining overhead, and the dark woods are as quiet as death, and there ain't no sound to be heard but the lap of the water against the bow for a man not to have serious thoughts. It ain't our way to talk about it. I think we try to do our duty by our employers, and if a mate is laid up, he need never fear getting on a shoal for want of a helping hand; and when our time comes, I fancy as there ain't many of us as is afeared of death, or feels very bad about the account they say we have got to render arterwards. It's different with the niggers; it's their way to be singing hymns and having prayer-meetings, and such like. There is some as is agin this, and says it gives 'em notions, and sets them agin their masters; but I don't see it: it pleases 'em, and it hurts no one; it's just the difference of ways. I expect it comes to the same in the end; leastways, I have seen many a wreck in this here river, when whites and blacks have been a-looking death in the face together, and sartin the white man, even if he has been a hard man, ain't no more afraid to die than the black, generally just the contrary. That's my notion of things."

Frank nodded, and for a time there was silence in the cabin.

"How long are we likely to be in this fix?" Frank asked presently.

"Thar ain't no saying; supposing we don't bring up agin a snag – which the Lord forbid, for like, enough, the tree would shift its position, and we should find ourselves bottom upwards if we did – we may drift on for days and days. Still, we shall be safe to make ourselves seen as soon as the weather clears, and there are boats out again; we have only got to light a fire of wet wood to call their attention. I don't expect this here gale will last much longer; after another day it ought to begin to blow itself out. As long as nothing happens to this tree, and the boat keeps fast where it is, there ain't nothing to make ourselves uncomfortable about. We'd best have a look at them lashings; I tell you, there is a tidy strain on them."

Examining the ropes carefully, they found some of them were already chafed, and, dragging out a piece of wet canvas from the lockers, they cut it into strips and lashed it round the ropes at the points where they were chafing. The strain was indeed very heavy, for the tree and the waterlogged boat rose but little with the waves, and the bow was submerged deeply every time a wave passed them, the gunwale being at no time more than a few inches out of water. Additional lashings were put on, and then Hiram and Frank returned to the cabin, and the latter dozed away the hours till morning, as did the negroes, Hiram remaining wide awake and watchful, and going out from time to time to look at the lashings. As soon as day broke Frank roused himself and went out; Hiram was just descending from one of the boughs.

"I have had a look round," he said; "I don't think it's blowing quite so hard, but thar ain't much change yet. It ain't not to say a cheerful kind of lookout."

Frank climbed up to take a view for himself, but he was glad to return very quickly to the shelter of the cabin. Overhead was a canopy of low grey cloud; around, a curtain of driving rain; below, a chaos of white-headed waves. The day passed slowly, and with little change. Sam found in the fore-part of the boat the iron plate on which he built his fire. They fixed this on the roof of the cabin, fastened a tarpaulin across the boughs so as to shelter it from the rain and drift, and then, with some difficulty, managed to make a fire. Some hot coffee was first prepared, and a frying-pan was then put on and filled with slices of pork. The flour was wet, but Sam made some flat cakes of the wet dough, and placed them in the fat to fry when the pork was done.

"Not a bad meal that," Hiram said, when he had finished, "for a floating forest."

The negroes had now completely recovered from the effects of their fright and wetting, and their spirits, as usual, found vent in merry choruses.

"Just like children, ain't they?" Hiram said, as he and Frank re-entered the cabin, while the negroes continued to feast overhead, "crying one moment and laughing the next. But I have known some good uns among them too, as good mates to work with as a man could want, and as good grit as a white man." Another meal, later in the afternoon, alone broke the monotony of the day. The aspect of the weather was unchanged at nightfall, but Hiram asserted that the wind had certainly gone down, and that in the morning there would probably be a break in the weather. They smoked for some time, and then the negroes dozed off, with their chins on their chests; and Frank was about to make an effort to do the same, when Hiram, who had been going in and out several times, said suddenly, "I reckon we are out of the main stream; don't you feel the difference?"

Now that his attention was called to it, Frank wondered that he had not noticed it before. The waves were no longer washing over the fore-part of the boat, and the sluggish efforts of the tree and boat to rise and fall with the water had ceased. He was still more struck, when he went outside, by the comparative silence. The wind still whistled overhead and swayed the branches, but the hiss and rustle of the water had ceased.