MEMPHIS LEVEE. TOUGH CROWD THE CANOE
MEMPHIS LEVEE. "TOUGH CROWD."THE CANOE.
DUCK SHOOTING.
Memphis, Tenn., Dec. 20, 1903.—We ran in here last Sunday morning, Dec. 13, intending to stock up and get out on Wednesday. But Handwerker had arranged a shoot for us at Beaver Dam Club, and there we spent Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday morning, bagging 26 ducks—12 mallards, 8 green-winged teal, 4 pintails, one widgeon and one spoonbill. Met Mr. Selden, the president of the club, and Mr. O'Sullivan, and of course enjoyed every minute of the time.
The club is built on social principles, with a large sleeping room with four beds; better conducive to fun than seclusion—and the first is what we seek at such resorts. After lunch we set out, with negro boatmen, finding a thin coat of ice over the lake. This is an old river bed, of half-moon shape, with a little water and bottomless mud. Thousands of ducks were perched on the ice and swimming in the few small open spaces. We laboriously broke our way throughthe ice to our chosen stands, and constructed blinds. Each boat had three live decoys; and after this first experience with these we must say that we retired fully convinced of our innate regularity as physicians—for we cannot quack a bit! Every time a flight of ducks appeared, our tethered ducks quacked lustily, the drake keeping silent; and it was effective. That evening the shooting was the most exasperating in our experience. Twice we brought down doubles, but not a bird of either did we bag. We had eight birds down, wounded, which in falling broke holes in the ice—and we left them till we were going in, as they could neither fly nor swim off; but the sun came out warmer, melted the ice, and not a bird of the lot did we bag. If there is anything that takes the edge off a duck hunter's pleasure—at least of this one's—it is wounding a bird and not being able to put it out of misery.
A good dinner made some amends, and the story telling continued far into the night—in fact was still going when the writer fell asleep.
Next morning we had better luck, and got every bird knocked down, as well as one of those winged the preceding day. In all we bagged 26ducks during the two days—and that for a party of 12 on the two boats is not an excessive supply. Not an ounce of the meat was wasted, and we could have enjoyed another meal of them.
One singular accident robbed us of a fine greenhead. A flock of five passed directly over our heads, so high that the guide said it was useless to try for them; but strong in our confidence in the Winchester we took the leader, and he tumbled. Yes, tumbled so hard, from such a height that he broke through the ice and plunged so deeply into the mud that we were unable to find him, after most diligent trials. We had been impressed with the force of a duck's fall, when shooting one coming directly head on, and can realize that a blow from one may be dangerous. In Utah we heard of a man who was knocked out of his boat and his head driven into the mud so far that he would have been smothered had not the guide been able to draw him out.
On reaching the boat Wednesday evening we found that J. J. had improved the opportunity of our absence by getting drunk, and had frightened the folk by developing that most objectionable form of it, a fighting drunk. After a few dayshe wound up in the lock-up, and there we leave him—thoroughly disgusted that he should have done such a thing when entrusted with the care of the sick wife and little ones.
The wife and Doctor took dinner with some friends, meeting a number of Memphis folk; and it is with unusual regret we bid adieu to this fine city. Stores are dearer than in St. Louis.
We were all ready to start by Saturday morning, but it was raining and foggy, the wind from the south too strong for our launch. Then the bank to which we were tied began to cave in, and soon our towlines were adrift. TheDesplainesgot up steam and took us north, where we remained all day; but as it was changing toward the north by evening we pulled down below town and tied in a little cove under but at a distance from the bluff. All night it blew hard from the west, and drove us into the mud bank, where we are solidly planted now. Three lines out and the anchor, with the mud, held us pretty steady, but the tug heaved against us all night. Jim had cemented the front baseboard with white lead and this kept out the water, but it came in underthe sides, and we will have to treat them similarly. The roof seemed tight. The windows leak, too, and will have to be sealed somehow—with putty, or the seams covered with strips of muslin glued on with varnish.
Our Cairo wood is gone, and we are using drift, which is wet. We must saw and split about a cord, and let it dry out. There is great plenty along the shores. The Missis has had asthma as bad as ever before—small wonder.
TheDesplainesseems to be overmanned, for the owner, Mr. Woodruff, asked us to take Taylor off his hands. This we are very glad to do, as we are short, since losing J. J., and Taylor has gotten our launch in good shape at last. In fact we might have used her from St. Louis if we had had him. Taylor is an Englishman, a teetotaler, and is studying with a correspondence school to fit himself for the highest positions attainable by an engineer.
One has to be careful what he says to the Memphis people. We mentioned to Prof. Handwerker our need of a dog, and added that we preferred one that did not like negroes, as we wanted him to give warning when any stray onescame near. Next day down came a crate containing a little dog, a brindle terrier, with the word that he could not abide negroes. He at once proceeded to endear himself to every one on board, and fully verified his recommendations. His name is Bluff; and surely never was dog better named. The brave little creature would, we verily believe, bluff an elephant.
SNAGGED IN TENNESSEE CHUTE.
President's Island, Dec. 21, 1903.—Yesterday was one of high hopes and unexpected disaster. All morning Taylor wrestled with the engine; Fluent ran down to tell of a telegram awaiting us; we went up in theDesplainesand found it was concerning some mss. not delivered by the express; found the office open, the mss. had been returned to Chicago Saturday on wire from there, and no explanation as to why it had not been delivered during the week, on every day of which we had been to the express office after it. Holiday rush.
At 1 p. m. we got off, the launch behind and steered by ropes running around the cabin to its front. All went well till Jim came in to dinner and we took the ropes—gave one turn to see which way the steering ran, found we were wrong and at once turned the other way, but that one turn gave the unwieldy craft a cant in to the shore, along which ran the swift current,and we drifted among a lot of snags, the launch caught, the boat caught, tore the blades off the propeller, broke the coupling; let go the anchor, and came to. In the melee we noticed the front end of a gasoline launch rise from some snags—a wreck, buoyed up by the air in the tank. The boys rowed back but could not locate it. Then we tried to lift our anchor, to find it fouled with something too heavy to be raised, and had to buoy it and cast loose with the 75 feet of cable attached to it.
We drifted quietly down to the southern end of this island, where we tied up to the sand bar.
Out fenders, one long line to a half-buried log far up the shore, the boat held well off to guard against the falling water leaving us aground. Well we did, for this morning the launch was so firm in the sand that we had trouble to get loose. The night was clear and quiet, and this morning the same—a light wind blowing us along down the river. Laid in a lot of driftwood in long sticks. Missy had a good night but is a little asthmatic this morning. Swept out into the current and floating now in true cabinboat style. We will keep clear of the Tennessee Chute next time.
TheDesplainescame along as we were lying at the lower end of the island, and came in to our signal. As we were totally disabled and would have to send to Auburn, N. Y., for new flukes for our propeller, they agreed to help us out, and took us in tow. They ran back to see if they could find the anchor or the sunken boat, but failed to locate either.
Hardin's Point, Ark., Dec. 23, 1903.—Yesterday we ran in here after a fifty-mile run. Tied up quite near the light, which was not well, as theKate Adamscoming near rocked us as badly as any steamer we have yet met. We passed her and her consort, theJames Lee, both aground within half a mile of each other, near Mhoon's. Both got off, as theLeecame down today. The river is lower than usual, as the Mhoon gauge showed minus three.
We laid in a good supply of wood, and then Jim and Frank found a lot of cannel coal over on the sand bar, and all day they have been loading up theDesplainesand our boat with it. Some barge has been wrecked there and the small pieces washed away, so that what is left is inlarge pieces, the smallest taking a strong man to lift. It is curiously water-burnt. The edges are well rounded, so it must have been long under water. A little darkey brought around six silver bass, weighing possibly half a pound each, for which he accepted forty cents. They have a barrel ready for shipment. He called them game fish.
A fine buck shot out of the woods on the other side, followed at a distance by ten hounds, and the deer nearly ran into Woodruff's boat, then swam to this side, where our boys vainly tried to get a shot. An old darkey said he could have been easily drowned by the man in the skiff; but we are glad that species of murder did not offer attractions to Woodruff. The bars are resonant with the honking of the geese. The natives have no cows, chickens, nothing to sell, not even pecans—which here become "puckawns." This evening Jake brought in a fine wild goose, the first we have seen on board as yet. It has blown from the south all day, but is quiet this evening.
Helena, Ark., Dec. 25, 1903.—We left Hardin Point about 9 a. m., with the wind dead ahead,and strong enough to make the beating unpleasant. The front deck is loaded with over a ton of coal, and this seems to make the boat steadier, less inclined to pitch and toss like a cork on the waves.
Christmas day is clear and bright, the sun out, thermometer at 10:30 standing at 55 outside in the shade, and with a little wood fire running up to 90 in the cabin. The Missis is better, her asthma becoming more spasmodic and better controlled by smoke. It rained all last night, and though the caulking did good, there was still some water came in around the surbases. We got some putty to help out the lead. At every stop we pick up something of value to us; usually some good hard firewood. Here we found a section of the side of a boat washed ashore, solid oak, with several bolts a yard long through it. Frank lugged it in and has broken it up into stovewood, and secured the bolts for stakes.
About 2 p. m. we reached Helena, a town of about 25,000. Moored at a distance up the stream, and landed on a muddy shore. The muddy south. We are all coated with the most adhesive of muds, the fineness of the grainrendering it difficult to remove from the clothes. The town is full of negroes, celebrating the holiday; and nearly all carry suspicious looking jugs. The costumes and shouting would make the fortune of a museum in the north. Found it impossible to secure a turkey fit to eat, but got the Missis some fine oysters and a chicken, and bear-steaks for our dinner—at 25 cents a pound. Game is not allowed to be sold in the state. Pity they do not extend the prohibition to whisky.
We made candy, and in the evening had the crew all in, and grabbed for presents in a big basket under a newspaper. We had a happy time, although we were all out on the big river far from home. TheDesplaineslet their wild goose spoil, and threw it overboard this morning. At 10 a. m. we set out for down the river.
We searched the Memphis papers for some intimation as to J. J.'s fate, but found none. Found the tale of an Indiana man who was coming down on a houseboat with his wife, intending to make his home in Greenville, Miss. He was told at Cairo that there was a law in Tennessee against carrying concealed weapons, so here he started out with his pistol in his hands. He wasarrested and sentenced to jail for a year less a day, and $50 fine, the law forbidding the carrying of weapons. Such a punishment, administered to a stranger unaware of the law seems a travesty of justice. It is said here that it is safer to kill a man than to carry a weapon; and it seems so.
MOORING.
We have been studying the subject of mooring, and present the following as an ideal moor:
The fenders are stout poles six inches thick at the butt, three at the small end, which rests on shore. This end is deeply embedded in the dirt, so that it will not float away or ride up on the bank. The big end is firmly fastened to the side timbers, the four-by-fours running across the boat under the floor, by a short chain, which will not chafe out like a rope. The latter is better, as being elastic, however. Either must be strong to spare. The cable is an inch Manilla rope. Thus moored we are ready for all chances. The best thing to moor to is a stump or log firmly embedded, and as far as possible from shore, if crumbly, for the current may cut in fast. At Memphis our stake, forty feet from shore, was washed out in an hour. Never tie close to a bank that may fall in on the boat, or to a tree that may fall and crush you; or to a bank that mayhold you ashore if the water falls in the night; or, worst of all, over a snag, for the waves of a passing steamer may lift the boat up and drop it so hard on the snag as to knock a hole in the bottom. When possible moor where you will have a bar to protect you from the force of waves rolling in from a broad stretch of water. A narrow creek or cove would be ideal, but as yet we have hardly seen such a thing where we wanted to stop. When moored with the long side to the shore, less surface is exposed to the current and the wind, and less strain put upon the cables.
AN IDEAL MOOR
AN IDEAL MOOR.
A LEVEE CAMP.
Allison's Landing, Ark., Dec. 26, 1903.—We landed here after dark last night, having been delayed at Friars' Point by the tug getting aground. The cabinboat floated down the river some distance, and then the back current and wind carried her on a sand bar. The tug was three hours getting free, by warping off with the anchor.
We found this a levee camp. Hardly had we landed when a big negress came aboard to see what we had for sale. They wanted drygoods badly, and were much disappointed. Two pleasant gentlemen boarded us, the heads of the camp; and spent the evening on the tug, with singing and music. They are here surrounded by negroes, and a little white association seemed as agreeable to them as it was to us. In the night all hands but Dr. and Taylor went cat-hunting.
At 11 p. m. a furious wind storm sprang up from the northeast, exactly the direction fromwhich to blow us on shore; which was providential, as we only had one long line out and that poorly secured to a stake in the soft, oozy bank. Frank saw that everything was right, and wisely went to bed; but we could not rest easy, and sat up till 4 a. m. The canoe on the roof blew over against the stovepipe and we had to get out four times and push it back with a pole. It grew quite cold and the fire was grateful.
About midnight the hunters came back with the usual luck to tell of. This morning Jake, the boy and Doctor went out to a bayou after ducks, but saw none. This country is said to swarm with game but it keeps hidden from us. What a thing is a bad reputation!
In the woods we noted the buds springing from the roots of the cypress, the size of an egg, and growing upward in hollow cones, called cypress knees. It is a remarkable and noble tree, the buttressed stumps giving promise of superb height, which seems rarely realized. Half a mile back from the landing we came upon the levee, a great bank of earth but partly covered with grass. Deep and narrow bayous run parallel withit, in which could be seen the movements of quite large fish.
Robins, redbirds, jays, woodpeckers, blackbirds, and a variety of still smaller birds abounded; but we did not get any game. The two gentlemen in charge of the levee camp, Mr. Rogers and Mr. Ward, went with us into the woods, but the game was wary. All hands so thoroughly enjoyed the visit at this hospitable camp that for the rest of the trip we talked of it. We were indebted to these gentlemen for a roast of fresh pork. Their task is a difficult one, to keep in order so many negroes, all of the rough and illiterate sort. Quarrels over "craps" and shooting among the negroes are not infrequent, and in one a white man, passing by, was killed. Mr. Rogers has the repute of getting his men to work, and we heard a scrap of a song among them, expressive of their sentiments or impressions:
"Blisters on yo' feet an' co'ns on yo' han',Wat yo' git for wo'kin' fo' de black-haired man."
"Blisters on yo' feet an' co'ns on yo' han',Wat yo' git for wo'kin' fo' de black-haired man."
"Blisters on yo' feet an' co'ns on yo' han',Wat yo' git for wo'kin' fo' de black-haired man."
"Blisters on yo' feet an' co'ns on yo' han',
Wat yo' git for wo'kin' fo' de black-haired man."
A firm hand is absolutely necessary to rule these men, with whom weakness is perilous. Only a few weeks after our visit to one of these campsa negro got in a dispute over a trivial sum in his account, got hold of the pistol the white man in charge had incautiously left in the negro's reach, and shot him dead. If there is anything in the art of physiognomy, many of these levee men are desperadoes.
Dec. 28, 1903.—We left our friendly entertainers at Allison's and ran down to a bar, where Woodruff took in several tons of very good coal, costing nothing but the trouble of shipping. Mr. Rogers accompanied us to Modoc.
Tied up at Mayflower landing, a good moor. A German there told us a trading boat at the landing above took away $6,000 in three days last year. The trader has a large scow, with a cabin, and a steamer to handle it. Every place we stop the people come to inquire what we have to sell. We got off at 7 a. m. today, passed the mouths of the White and Arkansas, and have run at least 60 miles. We have landed after dark, and we are not sure as to where we are. The weather has been most pleasant, temperature about 60 all day, little wind. The river is full of drift, but there is little traffic. Just now a littlesteamer passed up. At Riverton were several small ones, but otherwise the solitude is unbroken.
The shores are wild, the banks continually crumbling into the river. A prodigious number of snags must be furnished yearly. Very few wild fowl appear. Floaters appear occasionally, but probably there will be fewer now, as many are directed to the White river. This is probably near Monterey Landing. As the landing was narrow and beset with snags we moored with the prow to the bank, two lines to the shore and the anchor out astern. We have much to say about mooring; but it is a matter of supreme importance to the comfort and even the safety of the crew. It is not specially pleasant to turn out of bed in one's nightclothes, with the temperature below freezing, to find the boat adrift in a furious storm and pounding her bottom out on snags.
We bought a new anchor from a trading boat at Allison's. It is 50 pounds, galvanized, with folding flukes and a ring at the end for a guy rope, so that if fouled as the other was, we can pull the flukes together and free it. Paid four dollars for it—same as for the other, but this isa much better anchor, though not as strong as the solid one.
Jim has gone around the cabin and puttied up the cracks, and we hope the next rain will keep out. If not, we will get deck pitch and pay the seams.
Arkansas City, Ark., Dec. 30, 1903.—Landed here shortly after noon, and spent the balance of the day. About 1,000 people, mostly black; some good stores; got a few New Orleans oysters, which are sold by number, 25 cents for two dozen; bought a new anchor rope, 75 feet, 3.4 inch, for $3.04, or 14½ cents a pound. Eggs, 35 cents a dozen. No trade for extinguishers, though Woodruff had a nibble for his steamer. Weather clear, and temperature rising to about 60 in midday, cold at night. This morning at 8, temperature 34. No wind. River smooth. What a lot of gasoline engines are in use. There are at least six boats rigged with them here. One Memphis party is building a new hull ashore and moving an old cabin on it. The lady who owns the hotel and drug store has mocking birds forsale, $25.00 for a singer—lady birds not worth selling.
Got off near 9 a. m., for Greenville.
January 1st, 1904.—We left Arkansas City on the 30th, at 9 a. m., and reached Greenville, Miss., that evening just before dark. It is a rambling town, behind the levee, about 10,000 people, but evidently has considerable business. Twenty-five mills of various kinds are there. Supplies higher than since leaving Chicago—15 cents for meat of any sort, 35 cents for eggs or butter, 25 cents for a dozen fine large shell oysters from New Orleans, the first we have met, and which the sick woman appreciated $25.00 worth.
TheDesplainesdid some business, but many of the mills are owned in the cities and the managers cannot buy here.
An old negro lives in a little gully washed by the rain in the bank, close to where we tied up. He has a little fire, and lies there all night with a board on edge to rest his back against. In the morning we took him a cup of coffee which he took eagerly, but without thanks. An old negress brought him something—presumablyfood. Last night it rained some, but this morning he was still there. During the day we saw him wandering about the streets, reminding one of a lost dog.
We left at noon, but as it was still raining it was equally uncomfortable going or lying still. They tried the tug alongside, but the rudder would not swing the big cabinboat and they had to return to towing. About 2 p. m. the fog shut in so dense that we had to make a landing, presumably in Walker's Bend, on the Arkansas side. Frank brought off some of the finest persimmons we have yet seen. The cabin is so warm that some flies have appeared, probably left-overs, though the Missis says they have them all the winter down here. Picked up a nice lot of drifting boards for stove.
Exploration establishes the fact that we are just below Vaucluse Landing, and that the land is rich in pecan trees, well laden with nuts, which these lazy darkies let go to waste. Frank found a store in the neighborhood. Chicot lake, back of us, is said to be rich in ducks, and if the fog lasts tomorrow we must have some. The putty has kept out the rain today very well. We sufferfor ventilation, though, and awake in the morning with headaches. It is bright moonlight, but still foggy. It rained during the night and we secured a fine supply of rainwater in the launch cover.
Shiloh Landing, Miss., Jan. 3, 1904.—We lay last night at Wilson's Point, La., and all night we listened to the creaking of our fenders against the side, and felt the heave of the tug as she surged against our side under the influence of a driving northwest wind. Said wind carried us along yesterday for a run of over 44 miles, sometimes with and at others against us, as the river curved. It was a cold wind and made the cabin fire comfortable. Two sailboats passed us going down, one a two-master from Chicago and the other theDelhi, from Michigan City. They made good with the wind. There was a large trading boat with stern wheel above our landing, but we did not visit her.
About 1 p. m. we ran in here, and the tug people stopped because Mr. Rogers' brother was in charge. We found a levee camp with 36 tents, and examined the commissary with interest. Gotsome canned oysters for the Missis. No milk or eggs, fresh meat or chickens. The men all carry big 44s, and sometimes use them, we hear. It grows colder—at 5 p. m. temperature outside 30—and the cold is harder to bear than a much lower one up north. Every few miles there is a landing, and a pile of cotton bales and bags of seed waiting for theDeltaorAmerican, fine steamers that ply between Vicksburg and Greenville.
The great, greedy river, forever eating its banks, which crumble into the current constantly, even now when the water is so low. Every sand bar has its wrecks, and opposite Lake Providence we saw men and teams busy over the coal in sunken barges.
Monday, Jan. 4, we left Shiloh at 7:20, clear and cold, temperature 28, moon shining, but the sun not yet visible from behind the bluff.
Yesterday we passed the steamerCity of Wheeling, fast on a bar, and we hear she has been there for two months—grounded on her first trip. But the water is rising and she expects to be soon released.
VICKSBURG.
Thursday, Jan. 7. 1904.—We arrived at Vicksburg in the afternoon of Monday, Jan. 4, and were much impressed by the beauty of the city as seen from the river. Spread along the heights it looks like a large city, though it only claims a population of about 22,000. Contrary to expectation we found it busy, with evidences of life and enterprise. The Government has built a levee which blocks up the mouth of the Yazoo, and by a canal diverted the water of that river into the channel that runs along the front of the city; the old bed of the river Mississippi previous to 1876, when it cut a new bed for itself and threatened to leave the historic fortress an inland town.
Just before reaching the city we met a row of whirlpools reaching across the channel, whose violence would make a man in a skiff feel queer. These are the only notable ones we have seen, except just before reaching Arkansas City.
TheDesplainescould not tow us against the swift current in the Yazoo, so left the houseboat about 300 yards up that stream and steamed up to the city. After visiting the postoffice we started to walk back along the levee, reaching the place we had left the boat just before dark. She was not there, and we walked along the bank up stream till it grew too dark to see, then got lost among the railway buildings till directed by a friendly youth to the street where the cars ran. Reached the tug at last, and the owner took us back with a lantern along the levee, finding the boat in the great river, the boys having dropped down out of the Yazoo. As we received the flukes for our launch, which Taylor put on, we concluded to part company from the tug, and settled up with them. Meanwhile the quarreling among her crew came to a climax and Jake was set on shore by them. He was pilot, cook, hunter and general all-round utility man, coming for the trip without wages, and it seems to us suicidal for them to dismiss him, when negro roustabouts are refusing $4.00 a day from the steamers, and engineers impossible to secure at any price. We were full handed, but liked Jake, so we took himaboard as a supernumerary till he could do better.
The 6th was dull and rainy but we got off, and ran about 16 miles in the afternoon, tying up somewhere in Diamond Bend, probably below Moore's Landing.
At V. had a letter from J. J., saying he had been sentenced to a year in the workhouse and $50.00 fine for carrying weapons.
During the night it rained heavily, and we caught a fine lot of rainwater in the launch cover. One learns to appreciate this on the river.
During the afternoon we saw a negro shoot from the bank directly down on a few geese, of which he wounded one. It swam across the river and we got out the skiff and followed. On shore it crouched down as if dead, and waited till Jim got within ten feet, when it got up and flew across the river. We followed, and he shot it with a rifle when about 150 yards off.
By that time we were miles below the darky, and as he has no boat we fear he will not be on hand to put in a claim for the goose. We bought one at V. for 90 cents; also eight jack-snipe for a dollar. Roast beef was 12½ cents for round,25 for rib, and 17½ for corned beef. Milk 10 cents a quart from wagon, buttermilk 20 cents a gallon, butter, 30 for creamery and 25 for country.
Waterproof Cutoff, Friday, Jan. 8, 1904.—We ran about 23 miles on the 7th, the engine simply refusing to go; and we drifted most of the time. Once we got fast on a nasty snag and it took all our force to get off. We tied up to a sand bar near Hard Times Landing, in the bend of that name. Bluff and the children had a refreshing run on the sand. Got off today at 8 a. m., and by 1O the engine started off in good shape and has been running well all day. The weather is clear and warm, thermometer standing at 72 this afternoon. Little wind, but that from the south. Some clouds betoken a possible rain. Our first wild goose for dinner on the 6th, and all liked it well.
Saturday, Jan. 9, 1904.—We ran about forty miles yesterday, tying up above L'Argent in a quicksandy nook. At 4 this morning these lazy boys got up and started to float, making severalmiles before daybreak. It is foggy at 8 and the sun invisible, but warm and with little wind. The launch is running fitfully. Passed Hole-in-the-Wall and now opposite Quitman Bluff.
Jan. 10, 1904.—Yesterday we reached Natchez at 1 p. m., and by 4 had got our mail and supplies and were off down the river. The engine balked under the influence of a lower temperature, and we had only made about five miles when we had to tie up on account of the darkness. It rained hard.
RIVER PIRATES.
We had had our suppers, the children and Missis had gone to bed, and we were about following them, when through the rain we heard someone get upon the front deck. It was raining hard. We called out, asking who was there. A man replied in a wheedling voice, saying that he was alone, lost in the rain, and wished to remain till it was light enough to see his way. We asked who he was, and he responded that he was a prominent citizen of the neighborhood and asked us to open up the cabin a little bit. The doors are on the sides, and he was evidently puzzled as to how to get into the cabin. We were undressed and told him we could not let him in; but he insisted. We called to the boys to see what was wanted, thinking it might be some one in trouble; so Jake went out. The man began to talk pretty saucily, but then Jim and Frank got out, and at once his tone changed. He suddenly got very drunk, though perfectly sober a momentbefore. Another man turned up also, in a skiff alongside. He gave a rambling incoherent account of why he was there; but the other man called angrily for him to come on, and soon they left, rowing into the darkness. The man who came aboard was about 5 feet 6; 45, red-faced, deep-set eyes; his hat drawn well over his face; rather heavily set. The other was a sulky-faced man about 25, with light hair. That they were river pirates there is not a doubt; and had we been short-handed there would have been trouble.
Next morning we set out, slowly floating with a little headwind, through a fog. Temperature at 8 a. m., 50. Natchez-under-the-hill has disappeared under the assaults of the river, and with it the wild characters that made it famous, or rather notorious. The city is now said to be as orderly and safe as any in the south. We now get fine gulf oysters at 50 cents to $1 a hundred. They come in buckets. Shell oysters are still rare. We got a small bunch of bananas at Natchez, for 60 cents.
We passed Morville, floating about three miles an hour. We have never been able to secure any data as to the speed of the current in the rivers.
Jan. 11, 1904.—We ran 42 miles yesterday, to near Union Point, tying up to a sand bar. The boys crossed to a railway camp and were told game was very abundant, so that it was hardly safe for a single man to go out with the hounds at night—bear, panther and cat. We had a head wind all day, from the west, sometimes strong enough to raise a few whitecaps, and the engine did her stunt of bucking—which shows what she is good for when in good humor. Temperature went up to 72 and hung around 70 all day. This morning at 8 it is 42. The children and dog had a much needed run on the sand. The boy needs much exercise and laboriously chops at the heaviest wood he can find.
THE ATCHAFALAYA.
By lunch time we reached the mouth of the Red River, and found a rapid current running into it from the Mississippi. We landed on the bar and sent to town for mail, but found the postoffice had been moved to Torrasdale, several miles away—and after walking up there found no letters. At 3 p. m. we started up the Red, rapid, crooked, much in need of the services of a snag boat; weather so warm the invalid came out on deck for an hour or more. Turned into the Atchafalaya about 5 p. m., a deep stream, said to be never less than 50 feet deep. The same shelving banks as the great river, formed by the continual caving. We found a bed of pebbles at the mouth of the Red and really they were like old friends. Stone is a rarity here.
We tied up a little way beyond Elmwood Landing. Henceforth we have neither charts nor lights, but we have a born pilot in Jake, and he will pull us through. A bad day for the asthma, in spite of the warmth.
RED RIVER
RED RIVER.
Jan. 12, 1904.—If solitude exists along the Atchafalaya it is not here. The left bank is leveed and roofs appear about every 100 yards. The right bank is lined with little trees growing down to and into the water. At Denson's Landing, or Simmesport, the right bank begins a levee; there is the inevitable gas launch, a tug, and numerous other craft, with a fish market. The wind blows dead ahead, and raises waves nearly as big as in the big river. Pretty bum houseboats, apparently occupied by blacks. Some noble trees with festoons of Spanish moss. No nibbles on the trotline last night, but a huge fish heaved his side out of the water just now. Alligator gar.
Pleasant traveling now. All day long we have voyaged along the Atchafalaya with a wind from—where? It requires a compass to determine directions here. In fact the uncertainty of things usually regarded as sure is singular. Now up north we know just where the sun is going to rise; but here the only certainty about it is its uncertainty. Now it comes up in the east—that is, over the east bank of the river; but next day it may appear in the west, north or south.
The wind was against us all morning, but since lunch—which we had at Woodside—it has been back of us or sideways, and has driven us along. Fine levees line the banks. Just now we are passing a camp at work. It is a noble river, wide and deep, with a current about as swift as the great river. Even now, when the Barbre gauge shows 6¾ feet above low water only, there is no obstruction to navigation by as large steamers as plow the Mississippi. Now and then a little spire or black stack peeping above the levee shows the presence of a village. Temperature hovers about 62. Only a solitary brace of ducks seen in this river as yet.
All afternoon we have been pursuing Melville. At 3 p. m. it was four miles away; an hour later it was five miles off, and at 5 we had gotten within three miles of the elusive town. We concluded to stop, in hopes it might get over its fear and settle down; so tied up. We ascended the levee, and a boy told us the town was within half a mile. The river is lonely, not a steamer since leaving the mouth of Red, where theLittle Rufuscame down and out, politely slowing up as she neared the cabin boat, to avoid rocking us. Anoccasional skiff is all we see, though the landing is common, but no cotton or seed, nothing but lumber.
We were correct as to our estimate of the visitors we had the other night—river pirates. Their method is to come on rainy nights when the dogs are under cover. By some plausible story they gain admittance to the cabin and then—? Have the windows guarded by stout wire screens, the doors fitted with bars, and a chain. Any visitor to a cabin boat after night is a thief, and on occasion a murderer. If he desires admittance after being told you are not a trader or whisky boat, open the chain and when he tries to enter shoot him at once. It is the sheerest folly to let one of those fellows have the first chance. No jury in the world would fail to congratulate you for ridding the river of such a character. There are no circumstances that can be imagined in which an honest man would act in the way these men did. If they wanted shelter from the rain the shore was handy. If they mistook the boat for friends, the mistake was apparent and they knew very well they had no business to continue their visit.
Wednesday, Jan. 13, 1904.—Made a good start. We got under way about 8:30, and Melville bridge soon came in view. The day is clear and warm, water smooth as glass, with no perceptible current, and the engine starts off as if nothing ever ruffled her temper.
MELVILLE—FIRST DEER HUNT.
Melville, La., Jan. 19, 1904.—We found this a quiet little town of 600 people, including negroes; with sufficient stores for our simple needs, and a daily mail east and west. We found some pleasant young gentlemen here, with plenty of leisure and hounds, and some of us go out for deer every day. So far no one has brought in any venison, but Jim and Frank have had shots.
The thermometer stands at about 60 to 70 all day; fires are superfluous except at night for the weak one, the grass and clover show up green in spots, and really we seem to have skipped winter. In the swamps the palmettoes raise their broad fans, the live oaks rear their brawny trunks, and bits of green life show up on all sides. Really, we do not see what excuse the grass has for being brown, if it be not simple force of habit, or recollection of a northern ancestry.
The negro women wear extraordinary sunbonnets, huge flaring crowns with gay trimming.The foreigners are Italians or Greeks; and are in the fruit and grocery trade. An old superannuated Confed. brings us a small pail of milk daily, for which he gets 10 cents a quart.
The river is leveed 15 miles down, and the system is being extended southward. There is a difference of opinion as to the levees, some claiming they are injurious as preventing the elevation of the land by deposit of mud; while one large sugar raiser said it would be impossible to raise crops without them. The truth seems to be that the immediate needs require the levees; but if one could let the land lie idle, or take what crops could be raised after the floods subside, it would be better for the owner of the next century to let in the water.
We have had our first deer hunt. Six of us, with four hounds, set out in the launch. Arriving at the right place we disembarked and walked through the woods about a mile, the dogs having meanwhile started out independently. Here they located us, in a small clear space, and the rest went on to their respective stands. We looked about us and were not favorably impressed with our location. It was too open. Deercoming from any quarter would see us long before we could see them. So we selected a spot where we could sit down on a log, in the shade of a huge cypress, with the best cover attainable, and yet see all over the clearing. Then we waited.
By and by we heard a noise as of breaking twigs to one side. We crouched down and held our breath, getting the rifle up so as to allow it to bear in the right direction. Waited. A little more noise, but slight. Waited. No more. Sat till our backs got stiff and feet cold. Then carefully and quietly paced up and down the path. Sat down again. Concluded to eat lunch, an expedient that rarely fails to start the ducks flying. No good for deer.
Shifted position, walked up the path to a bunch of hollies, laden with berries. A bird was at them, and as by this time our faith in deer was growing cool we concluded to take a shot at a robin. Did so. Missed him—but to our horror and relief he turned out to be a mocking bird!
Walked up the path and found a sluggish bayou with running water across it. Weren't thirsty, but doubted the wisdom of drinking thatwater, and that made us thirsty. Circled around the center of our clearing. Noted the way the cypresses throw up stumps from the roots. Saw a big turtle in the bayou. Red birds came about, but no robins—they are game birds here. Searched the trees for squirrels—none there. Thought of everything we could recollect—even began to enumerate our sins—and got into an animated discussion with a stranger on the negro question, awaking with a start. Shot at a hawk that roosted on a tree just out of gunshot. Scared him, anyhow.
Finally, when desperate with the task of finding expedients to keep us awake, we heard a horn blown—or wound?—and not knowing but that some one might be lost, whistled shrilly in reply. Occasionally a shot was heard here and there; once in a moon the dogs gave tongue in the remote distance. Finally one of the boys appeared, then the old uncle, and the rest came stringing in. One had seen a deer but did not get a shot at it. So we took up the line of march for the river, where the launch returned us to the cabin boat. And so ended our first deer hunt.
We have now been at it a week, and severalof the boys have had shots at the animals, but no horns decorate our boat, nor does venison fill our craving stomachs. There are deer here, their evidences are as plain as those of sheep in a pasture. But the only benefit they have been to us is in the stimulation of the fancy. The weird and wonderful tales spun by those who have had shots at the elusive creatures, to account for the continued longevity and activity of their targets, are worth coming here to hear. Surely never did deer go through such antics; never did the most expert tumbler in any circus accomplish such feats of acrobatic skill. The man who catches flying bullets in his teeth should come down here and receive instruction from these deer.
We took the Missis and daughter over to Baton Rouge, and installed them in a huge, old-fashioned room, on Church St., a block from the postoffice and the leading stores; with a lady of means, who sets an excellent table, lavishly spread, and with the best of cookery, at a price that seems nominal to us. The lofty ceilings seem doubly so after the low deck of the cabin; the big canopied bed of walnut and quilted silk recalls the east; while violets, camellias,hyacinths and narcissus blooming in the open air, as well as sweet olive, and the budding magnolias, make one realize that the frozen north is not a necessity.
January 23, 1904.—We find Melville a very good place to stay—supplies plentiful, the people pleasant, and the place safe. The boys go out for deer every day, but as yet no success has rewarded them. One day they chased a doe into the river, where two boys caught her with their hands and slaughtered her. Bah!
The weather has been ideal—warm enough to make a fire oppressive save nights and mornings—but we are now having a cold snap, whose severity would make you northern folk, who sit in comfort over your registers, shiver. We have actually had a white frost two nights in succession. Fact!
On the shore close by roost at least 100 buzzards. They are protected and seem aware of it; roosting on the roof of the fish boat below us. They tell us the sharks come up here so that bathing is unsafe, and tell queer stories of the voracity and daring of the alligator gars. Thealligator is by no means extinct in Louisiana, being still found of gigantic size in the bayous.
Little is said here on the negro question, which seems to be settled so well that no discussion is needed.
Day after day we sit at the typewriter and the work grows fast. Tomorrow we go to Barrow's convict camp for a shoot, and quite a lot have gathered, and are waiting till the engine chooses to start. Every day we have to push the boat from shore or we might be hard aground in the morning, as we are today. The water fell last night till it uncovered six feet of mud by the shore. The river is said to be over 100 feet deep opposite. The bridge is built on iron tubular piers that seem to be driven down till they strike a stratum capable of supporting the weight. These are said to be 100 feet deep.
January 24, 1904, we all went down to Capt. Barrow's camp for a deer hunt, which possessed no features differing from those of the five preceding. At 4 p. m. we quit, and started on our return. But the dogs had not come in, so when we got up to the old convict camp we stopped,and Budd and Jake went back for them. And there we waited till after 10 p. m. It grew quite cool so that the boys built a fire. Just on the bluff above us was an old deserted house, about ready to fall into the river when the banks shall have crumbled away a little more. We found in it an ancient mahogany four-post bedstead and a spinning-wheel, an old horn powderhorn, and other relics of antiquity.
There were our own party of four, Budd and Wally, Thomassen and his son "Sugar," Mr. Sellers (from one of the Melville stores), and two negro hunters, Brown and Pinkham—and right worthy men and good hunters they are. The fire was fed by beams from the old house, and as its cheerful warmth was felt, the scene would have been a worthy one for an artist's pencil. The odd stories and ceaseless banter of the negroes and the boy were enhanced by the curious dialect. Constantly one blew his horn, and was answered by the party who were out, or by others; and some one else was blowing for other lost dogs, so that the woods were musical. An old hound had come in early, tired out, and when the horns blew he would try to get off, but was tied; so hewould give vent to his discontent in the most doleful of long-drawn-out howls, like a prolonged note from an owl. At last boys and hounds came in, and we were home to our boat by midnight.
Somehow the yoke once worn till thoroughly fitted to the neck, becomes a part of the bearer; and the best contented of the negroes were those who held with their old masters. Even the shackles of civilization become attractive in time—and we have resumed the reading of a daily paper since we can get it regularly. And we like thePicayune, finding in its editorials a quiet dignity that we appreciate, even though we may not agree with the political sentiments. And there is an air of responsibility about it; a consciousness that what it says counts, and must therefore be preceded by due deliberation, that is novel. The local color is also attractive. For instance the river news, and—the jackstaffs! Now, don't say you do not know what jackstaffs are. We will not spoil it by telling. And Lagniappe!
BATON ROUGE—THE PANTHER.
Baton Rouge, La., Feb. 1, 1904.—While you in the North are wrestling with zero temperatures, we are experiencing what these folk term terrible winter weather. Men go about with heavy overcoats buttoned up to the chin, and I saw one the other day with a tall coonskin cap, with folds down over his neck, and earflaps. An open-grate fire is comfortable in the mornings and tempers the chill of night for the little one. Even the Chicago man finds a light overcoat advisable in the mornings, though with light-weight underwear and thin outer clothes.
Nevertheless, the violets bloom everywhere, jonquils, polyanthus narcissus, camellias and sweet olive are in bloom, and the big rose bushes are covered with leaves and buds that already show the color of the flower. The grass is green in New Orleans parks, and the magnolias are budding. Masses of chickweed cover the margins of drains and several plants ofunknown lineage—to the writer—are in bloom. And this is the weather to which we constantly hear the epithet "terrible" applied here.
But residents of the North who were raised in Dixie do not freeze. Exposure to cold brings with it the ability to withstand it, and not only that but all other morbific influences as well. It increases the vitality, the power of resisting all noxious powers that threaten the health and life of man.
But this applies to the sound and well, not to those who already possess a material lesion of one or more organs. For them this soft, balmy air, this temperature that permits a maximum of exposure to the open air, are health-giving, life-prolonging, comfort-securing.
People speak of the sudden changes here—warm today and tomorrow cold—as objectionable; but so they do everywhere, and we have found no more changeability than elsewhere. And as to the rains: When it does rain it pours, but most of it has been at night so far, and during the day it dries off nicely. It it said that this is the rainy month, and we may have to modify this view later. So far the rains havenot been a feature worthy of citation, as against the climate.
Much attention has been given the drinking water of late years in the riverine cities, and generally they have water on which they pride themselves. Artesian wells are mostly utilized. The river water is muddy and unsightly, but probably safe and certainly palatable. We depend on our Puritan still, and a tripoli filter, and utilize the rain water we catch in the canvas cover of the launch. No trouble has as yet affected us from this source; and we are satisfied it pays well to take precautions.
From St. Louis down the river fairly bristles with opportunities for men who understand business and have a little capital. But timber lands are pretty well taken up. An Ohio party paid $100 an acre for 100 acres here in this Atchafalaya country the other day.
The people? Well, we have simply adopted the whole—white—population, and find them delightful. There has not been a discordant note in our intercourse with this warm-hearted, hospitable folk, who unite the courtesy of theFrench with a sincerity that makes itself felt every moment.
Dogs! Everyone seems to own hounds here. We had a few runs with them; they came aboard and inspected us, and after due deliberation approved of us, took up their home with us and declined to stay away; so that at night one can scarcely set foot outside the cabin without stepping on a sleeping hound. Even the women folk are disarmed when these dogs look up with their big, beautiful eyes and nuzzle their cold noses into the hand for a caress. One great fellow reared up against us, placed his paws on our shoulders and silently studied our face awhile, then dropped to the ground and henceforth devoted himself to us, never being far from our side. We felt complimented!
Go out with the gun, and see how these slumberous animals awake to joyous life and activity. Then the long, musical bay, the ringing of the hunters' horns, the quick dash of the deer past your stand, with the dogs after, in full cry—say, brother, these low lands when leveed, cleared and cultivated, will yield two bales of cotton to the acre, and with cotton at 15 centsand over, is not that splendid? So shut your ears against the cry of the wild, and only consider what Progress means, and how the individual and civic wealth is increasing as these wild lands are brought under the plow and made productive of dollars. For is not all of life simply a question of dollars, and success measurable only in the bank account? So put away from you the things that make life worth living, and devote yourself with a whole heart to the task of making your son a millionaire, that he may make his son a multimillionaire, and so on. It will do you so much good in the Great Beyond to know this. That the money for which we give up all that renders life enjoyable will either render our descendants dissipated and useless, or enable them to oppress their fellowmen, need not be considered. Money is all there is in life.
The wife, daughter and Doctor are domiciled at Baton Rouge, while the boys took the boats down to Alabama Bayou for a week with the big game. Here is the small boy's report, verbatim:
Dear Mama and Papa: You talk about us not sending you any venison. If I had any money I would send you enough to make you sick. I went hunting with the boys this morning. Jim, Hudson and I went together. Bud drove with the dogs. Jake and Frank went together. Frank took his shotgun and he got lost from Jake, went to shooting robins. Jake got on an island and did not know where he got on at. He had to wade a stream two feet deep. After we had been looking for a stand we heard a shot behind us, and then a rifle shot to the right of us, and three blows of Bud's horn, which means dead deer. Jake was the first one to him, being only 300 yards. We walked two and one-half miles before we got to him. When we got there he had a big doe laying over a log. Bud drew him and they took turns carrying him home. Every tooth in my head aches from chewing venison. How are all of you? I waded about 30 ditches today over my shoe tops and one over my knees. Bud said if I followed the dogs with him he would give me first shot, and if I missed he would get him. Millie made me a belt to fit the rifle cartridges. I christened my axe in deerblood. Bud said Queen was 10 feet behind it, King 20 feet and Diamond ran up and threw the deer after it was shot. Then it got up and Diamond got it in the throat and brought it down. I will have to close as it is time to go to bed. With love to all,
William.
Not bad for an 11-year-old. Everyone has been complaining of the terrible weather here—frost three nights last week, and a light overcoat not oppressive, though it is hardly necessary except for the tendency one has to put his hands in his pockets otherwise. We asked one of the natives what they would do in Chicago with zero weather, and he replied with an air of conviction: "Freeze to death."
We have a nibble for the boat. The river at Memphis is so full of floating ice that the ferry boats cannot run; and that looks as if we might not be able to get our boats towed to St. Louis before late spring—and we want to be free. We note blooming in the open many violets, polyanthus narcissus, camellias, sweet olive, magnolias just budding out, and white hyacinths. The grass is putting up green shoots. Large beds of chickweed are plentiful. The vinca was nippedby frost last night. Next door is a fine palmetto and the great roses covering the gallery are full of green leaves and the remains of the last crop of blossoms, with new buds coming out. What a terrible winter!
There is a street fair here. These people go about the country and exhibit wherever they find a town that will pay them, their price here being, it is said, $2,000 for a week. The Red Men pay them, and probably the merchants subscribe to it, the business brought to town compensating them. There are a number of attractions, like a little splinter broken off the poorest part of Atlantic City. But it gives something to see and do and talk about, to a town where there is too little of either for the demand. There are a huge and a dwarf horse, glass blowers, a human dwarf, contortionist, jubilee singers, kinetoscope, trained dogs and monkeys, dissolving statue, and of course the nigger babies and knives to throw at and miss. We have run against these aggregations all the way down, and they are evidently becoming a feature of the smaller towns.
Curious place for a State Capital. In our room stands a fine walnut wardrobe with a doorbroken open; and there is not a mechanic in the city who can mend it. Glass is broken, and it remains so; any quantity of miscellaneous mending and repairing needed, but it stands. The sunny south is a bit slipshod; the ladies are delightful, but they do not work their finger ends off cleaning out the last possibilities of dust and dirt—they leave it to the darkies, who do what they cannot avoid doing and stop right there.
That our boys are not devoid of descriptive ability—and imagination?—this chapter, written by Frank, will demonstrate.
"At Melville, on the Atchafalaya, we became acquainted with some young men who had a fine pack of deer hounds. They also call these "nigger dogs," because they are employed for trailing convicts who escape from the camps along the river.
"Early in the morning our hunting party gathered on the levee—the Doctor, Budd Tell, his brother Wylie, and two uncles, and four of us. The old men were settlers and hunters of bobcat, deer, panther, bear and other game. They said they had killed 160 deer in one winter, andthough we doubted this, we afterward found it was true.
"We penetrated the woods till a desirable spot was reached, and here Budd posted us on our stands. These are places clear of underbrush for a space, so that the hunter may see to shoot anything that invades his location. One man remains with the dogs, termed the driver. He was left about two miles behind. When all had been placed the signal was given, to start the dogs. Soon we could hear the music of their baying, as it did not take long for them to strike a deer trail, and a fresh one at that. The chase led in the Doctor's direction and presently we heard him shoot—and he had downed his first deer. He got two that day. I shot one, and Budd got a little fat doe. The others were fine bucks, weighing 175, 150 and 123 lbs. At least we thought so, after taking turns packing them, on a pole; and that was the only scale we had; so we think it was legal, under the circumstances.
"As we were returning to the boat with our four deer, two men to each, one man could be taking it easy all the time. Somehow the bunch got separated in the cypress swamp, andsuddenly we heard the scream of a panther. Then there were a number of shots, and after that silence, for a couple of minutes. Then came a rifle shot. Jake and I being together, we hurried in the direction of the shots. Soon we heard a noise that we could not make out the cause of. We were still packing the deer. Then we came in sight of the Doctor, stooping over Budd's brother. Close by lay a dead panther. Budd's breast and arms were badly torn by the claws of the animal, and his brother had a scalp wound and was insensible. However, we all turned in to help, and he was soon on his feet, somewhat damaged and rather faint, but still in the ring.
"The panther had sprang on them from a tree, knocking Wylie down, then turning on Budd who attacked the animal as soon as he realized what was the trouble. The panther started for him like a cyclone and had his shirt and some skin jerked off in less time than it takes for me to tell it. Budd says he sure thought his time had come, and being somewhat of a church member he put up a little call for help. Just then the Doctor ran up, and by a lucky shot disabled the beast, which was soon dispatched. He gotthe hide. The panther weighed over 100 lbs. and measured 5 feet 10 inches from nose to tip of tail.
"As Budd and Wylie were too weak to carry the deer, the big cat was allotted to them, and two of us took each a deer till we got out of the timber, about dark. We reached the boat at 6 p. m., very tired. But we had had our fun, and some of us had had an experience not usual even to houseboat travelers. And we got the panther—though it came very near getting two of the best fellows to be found in the south."
Unfortunately the prize so highly valued was lost. The skin was stretched out and placed on the roof to dry; that night the wind blew, and next morning the skin had disappeared. The one now ornamenting the Doctor's den was purchased to replace the original.
Will some one explain how it happens that an indifferent shot, when brought in face of such a proposition will make an unerring snap shot, when a slight deviation would endanger the life of the companion? Many years ago, while traversing the woods of Pennsylvania, we heard our companion cry for help, after two shots closetogether. We ran at full speed, and saw him standing still, gazing at a huge snake at his feet. Even as we ran we brought our double-barrel to our shoulder and without taking aim blew the serpent's head off. There was no time to aim, and had we done so it is doubtful if we could have made as good a shot.