CHAPTER XXIX.
THE CRUISE OF THE "ROARER."
In Bordeaux a man in cap and blouse rolls great wine pipes from great warehouses down to great vessels that lie at the quay. These vessels take the great pipes on board and bear them to the four corners of the earth.
Away up in the wilds of Arkansas a woodman swings his axe, and the great oak topples and falls, with a roll of thunder, to the ground.
The man in the blouse on the docks of Bordeaux has never seen, nor does he know of the existence of the man who swings his axe in the uninhabited timbers of the White River bottoms. They do not speak the same language; they do not worship from the same religion; they know nothing of one another; care nothing. And yet should the woodman stop swinging his axe the man in the blouse would stop rolling barrels; for the iron bands that girt the great wine pipes bind together a mutual interest of these two humble workmen, so many thousand miles apart. And so the woodman in the forest of Arkansas fells the tall white oak for the man in the blouse, in Bordeaux. Tell him so and he will laugh at you. Explain it to him and he will say the reasoning is brought from a distance. Butstop his axe—and the man in Bordeaux will stop rolling the pipes of wine! For it is the staves from the mighty oak on the White River bottom lands that hold the wine on the docks of Bordeaux.
The stave-timber of America is being rapidly exhausted. It has been, and it is a source of much wealth. But a few years ago, Ohio, Indiana and Michigan produced good staves in large quantities. Now their production is very limited, and they have none for export. Indeed they import from other states. A few years ago Northern Michigan sent staves to Cadiz, Spain; but her timber is rapidly disappearing. The oak forests of Arkansas and Tennessee are still comparatively fresh, and supply many staves to Europe. The most available timber is that located on some of the water-ways traversing the forest, on which they may be rafted to the Mississippi or put in flat boats at their "banking" and sent to New Orleans direct. The forest of Eastern Europe, Russia and Hungary, still furnish some staves; but their trees have been culled over these centuries past, and the New World must be looked to for a steady supply.
The "Mary Jane, No. 2" had originally left the Virginia shore, a short distance below Wheeling, freighted with jugs and crocks.
The "Mary Jane, No. 2" was square in front and square behind, and much resembled an enormous dry-goods box loaded with pottery. A stovepipe stuck from her deck, "back aft" when that end was up stream, and "up for'ard" when she had swapped ends; which she frequently did. An oar with a blade sixteen feet long and a stem fifty feet, hung over the end opposite the stovepipe. This was the "gouger." A similar one, but with a much shorter stem, hung at the stovepipe end, and worked, back and forth, above that article. That was the "Steer'n o'r." Two short heavy-stemmed sweeps, with long blades, were hung one on each side. They were all pivoted on iron pins, and had planks laid on the rounding roof of the craft for the crew to walk upon as they worked them with arms extended above their heads. The three last named "oars" were not difficult for a stout man to handle. But the "gouger," though a child could lift the stem and dip the blade, would have felled an ox with the rebound, unless the ox knew how to catch it and hold it up.
Such was the "Mary Jane, No. 2"; looking, on the river, with her long, leg-like sweeps, not unlike a pre-historic June bug. From Wheeling to Memphis she supplied the inhabitants with brown receptacles for their corn juice, and at Memphis her trip ended and she was dismantled. This last being accomplished by taking the stove out of her "cabin" and removing the planks of her decking. Then the "Mary Jane, No. 2" lay peacefully soaking in the waters of Wolf River for many days, until the acquisitive eyes of Cap'n Willum Smiff, (pronounced with a clear nose and a mouth unchoked with tobacco-juice,William Smith) fell upon her. When she engaged the attention of those orbs a change came over the peaceful life of the "Mary Jane." The name "Mary Jane, No. 2" passed into history, and the more robust and sounding title of "Roarer" adorned her stern. With the new nomenclature came a new existence. With Cap'n Willum Smiff at the "steer'n o'r" and Lieutenant Jeremiah Jarphly at the "gouger" the "Roarer" sailed for the St. Francis river and was cordelled a short distance up that stream. There she loaded with pipe and barrel staves for the man in the blouse on the quay in Bordeaux. The stovepipe was transferred to the centre of the craft, where it stuck up belching smoke and fire like a juvenile Popocatapetl. Beneath the stack was now a dirty little cabin, twelve feet square, with bunks on three sides, the stove in the centre, and a home-made wooden table with two similarly constructed stools for furniture. Both cabin and bunks were formed of tiers of staves. She carried a crew of six men besides Cap'n Willum Smiff and Lieutenant Jeremiah Jarphly; and the "Roarer" cast off her lines and set sail for New Orleans.
When Cap'n Willum Smiff appeared "on deck" that morning, after a short nap on a coil of rope, he said "How'dy" to Lieutenant Jarphly and gracefully tilted a jug to his lips; the body of the vessel reposing on his elbow—a feat that Cap'n Smiff was quite proud of. Then Lieutenant Jarphly tilted it likewise, and as he rubbed his mouth on his shirt sleeve, said:
"River's risin', Cap'n."
"Yas, by ginger!" replied Cap'n Smiff. "Risin' a boomin', by ginger! Driftwood comin' down a skallehutin', by ginger! Whar air we, Jerry?"
"Wuthin a few miles uv Frenchman's pint," replied his Lieutenant.
"Sho as yoh live, by ginger!" said Cap'n Smiff, and then he and Lieutenant Jarphly took a long and meditative look at the river and their surroundings.
"Jerry, how much's she riz?" presently asked the commander.
"'Bout five fut, I reckon."
"By ginger!"
Then followed another meditation and contemplation.
"Jerry doh yoh know wot I've a mind toh doh?" asked the Cap'n, and Mr. Jarphly confessing an ignorance of his intentions Cap'n Smiff continued:
"I've a right smart notion of tryin' Nigger Head chute!"
"No! Go way!" said Jerry.
"Sho as yoh live, I'll be ginger-gingered to ginger ef I aint! See here, by ginger. Las' time I wus down I noticed a powerful strong kerrent settin' in 'round Frenchman's pint, inter the old channel. 'Taint morn ten yars ago sense we yosed toh go that channel, Jerry. Hit wus right arter the spring flood of sixty-six, when the river cut thro' up at Bordens, thet the kerrent shot off the pint instead of a goin' around hit, an' left thet great, big san' flat thar, five miles wide. Now thet she's bruk thro' onto Hempen's Landin' the kerrent's changin' agin, an' when I kem up on the Bismark frum thet las' trip I was down, I wus up in the pilot-house 'long with Jeff Neff, an' I pinted it out to Jeff, an' Jeff sed as how he 'lowed thar'd be the channel agin afore nex' spring! I've a heap mind toh try it;—by ginger!"
But Lieutenant Jarphly was averse to the experiment. For the reason, perhaps, that with nautical prescience, he knew that it involved some extra exertions upon the gouger. The more he objected, however, the more Cap'n Smiff was determined upon the undertaking.
"By ginger! I'll doh it, I swar I will! See here, Jerry, less see wot luck's in hit," and he picked up a broad stave, and expectorating a puddle of tobacco-juice on one side of it, remarked:
"No fur hit, Jerry; chute or no chute—wet or dry? Sing out!" and he whirled the stave in the air.
"Dry!" cried Jerry.
"Wet she is, by ginger!" said Cap'n Smiff, contemplating his sign manual, and little dreaming that the lives of two human beings had hung upon the result.
"Wetshe is; and the chute we take.Oars!"
This last brought the crew from their slumbers to the sweeps, and with steady strokes they commenced propelling the "Roarer" toward the distant point.
"I want toh hug the pint, near as I kin," explained Cap'n Smiff. "Ef we stan' toh fur out the kerrent will take us over to the bend, an' we'll never make the chute."
But the "oars" were well manned and whatever else his ignorance, Captain Smith was a thorough flat boat's man, and understood the river. He certainly ought to have been for from boy to man he had devoted forty years of his life to the study of the science, and all in the world he had to show for it was the greasy clothes on his back. The "Roarer" and cargo belonged to a Memphis firm that employed Cap'n Smiff when he was sober. Still Cap'n Smiff was a happier man, in his way, than many whose possessions are much more extensive. His wants were small, and his vices cheap.
As they hugged the point, he called out to Jarphly:
"Give her the gouger, Jerry!" and two of the crew leaving the sweeps, went to Jerry's assistance, for the gouger was too much for one man.
"Ram hit toh her! Cram hit toh her! Slam hit toh her! Jam hit toh her!" yelled Cap'n Smiff, who was executing a nervous hornpipe with the "steer'n o'r" between his legs.
"She takes hit! Now she takes hit! Thar! That'll do," and the great box swung around the point, and headed for the chute—the first vessel to cruise the old roadway for ten years!Thatwas the feather Cap'n Willum Smiff wanted to stick in his nautical cap.
And now that the "Roarer" was headed right, the men bridled their oars and lounged lazily on the staves.
Suddenly one arose with a shout and cried to his companions:
"What's that? Look there! For God's sake, look! Look!"
"Whar?" asked Cap'n Smiff.
"There! There!" and the man's eyes started as he pointed down the chute.
"Great Jehovah!" cried the captain, "Git in the skiff an' go after them, quick, quick!" and before his commands could be executed he himself was seated in the skiff that was being towed along side of the flat boat, and in another moment was shooting down the stream, the boat springing like a race horse under the powerful strokes of his oars. And he was none too quick—none too soon. For as he reached the man and woman clinging together in the center of a sea of waters, their feet went from under them, and the next instant, torn asunder, they would have been beyond the reach of Cap'n Smith's powerful arm. He seized the woman by the hair and dragged her into the skiff, the man clinging to the gunwale until she was safely on board, and then crawling over himself. Both lay in a dead faint on the bottom of the boat, while Cap'n Smiff, with great beads of cold sweat starting from his forehead and rolling down over his furrowed countenance, sat with his arms hanging limp and lifeless by his side, and with eyes blankly staring at the two forms before him, muttered over and over:
"Great Jehovah! Great Jehovah!"
And let you and I, gentle reader, echo the words, though in a different humor:
"GreatJehovah!"