CHAPTER XXVIII.
A DISTINGUISHED PASSENGER.
The planter went on deck with me after supper, and we paid our first visit to the Islander, where we were courteously received by the Shepards. On our return we went on the hurricane deck to take a look at the shores, as well as we could see them, for it was almost dark by this time.
"Who is your father, Captain Garningham, or, if you will forgive me for it, Captain Alick?" asked the Colonel.
"Major Garningham, formerly of the British army," I replied.
"Yes, yes, I know all that; but what is he?" persisted my new passenger.
"I don't know that he is anything in particular just now," I answered, perplexed by the earnestness of Colonel Hungerford. "He is certainly neither a soldier nor a sailor, a tinker nor a tailor."
"Is he an American?"
"No, sir; he was born in England. His father was Sir Alexander Garningham, and he is Sir Bent Garningham, Baronet, whose estates and last residence were at Shalford, Essex."
"I see," said the passenger. "Then he is a baronet."
"He is; but he insists upon dropping his title in this country."
"In my intercourse with him I shall take pleasure in dropping it," added the planter. "But, Captain Alick,—excuse me if I am too familiar."
"I am seldom called by any other name, and I have not the slightest objection to the name," I interposed.
"As I was going to say, Captain Alick, I am not a little embarrassed by the situation. You and your associates have rendered me an important service, and it would afford me very great satisfaction to acknowledge it. You are the captain of the steamer, and your father is a very wealthy man."
"He is, sir," I replied; for I wished to leave no doubt in his mind on this subject.
"Your mate was very efficient. What is he?"
"He is the son of a distinguished ex-governor of one of the States, and the nephew of——"
"Precisely so; I know his uncle very well. I can do nothing for him. And your two deckhands?" continued the planter.
"They are the sons of English gentlemen, over here on a vacation, and their fathers have each an income of over ten thousand pounds a-year," I added, quietly.
"Your engineer, whose skill and pluck carried us through the crevasse, is, I dare say, one of the sons of her Majesty, the Queen of England," added the passenger, laughing.
"On the contrary, he is a son of a Michigan farmer, now well to do in the world," I replied.
"Of course, he is a millionaire!"
"O, no, sir, only in comfortable circumstances. He has known what poverty is, but he has enough to live on now."
"By the way, Captain Alick, do you happen to have anybody on board who is not 'well to do,' as you call it?" asked the planter.
"Ben Bowman, the assistant, who was in the boat that brought off your family to the steamer, has been a lake sailor, cook and fireman all his life; and I don't know that he has five hundred dollars in the world. He sends most of his wages to his mother, and is one of the truest and bravest men I ever saw."
I also told him the story of Cobbington and the two firemen. I judged that he felt very grateful for the service the Sylvania had rendered to him and "his people," and that he was thinking up some way to reward her officers and crew for what they had done.
"The pilot is a Louisiana man, and says he was raised near St. Charles," I added.
"His name is Billy Bell, and I know him very well," replied Colonel Hungerford. "You have a very distinguished and wealthy ship's company, Captain Alick. I wished to distribute a thousand dollars, more or less, among them; but I see that such a proposition would be taken as an insult by some of them."
"It would be taken as it was intended, not as an insult; but it would be respectfully declined by the captain, the mate, the two deck-hands, and perhaps by all the others; for I am sure that no one on board would be willing to be paid for an act of common humanity," I replied.
"A strange ship and a strange crew," added Colonel Hungerford. "Perhaps we shall find some way to get out of it."
I had just resolved not to assist him in his task, for it was a little humiliating to have my crew paid for what they had done, when Miss Blanche and Miss Margie came on the hurricane deck. They were already fast friends. The English girl began to pour out a volley of questions about the river and the steamers we saw, and I answered them as well as I could; but Colonel Hungerford was better acquainted with the scene, and he took the task upon himself of informing her, leaving Miss Blanche to ply me with other interrogatories.
I told her all about the steamer, her going south, our adventures in Florida, and our yachting on the Mississippi, which had thus far been a series of adventures. Then she wanted to know who and what my father was, and I told her all I had just related to her father.
"Then you will one day be Sir Alexander Garningham, and as a genuine republican, I shall be under the necessity of hating you, Captain Alick," said she, mirthfully.
"Then I promise never to allow myself to be called by that title," I replied. "I have said as much to my father; and he does not like to be called by anything but his military title, for he says he has earned that fighting against the enemies of his queen. But I am a democrat, and don't believe in any titles. Are you really a Republican, Miss Hungerford?"
"I am a republican, but I am also a Democrat."
"I see! and I am a democrat and also a Republican."
"I don't think it will be safe for us to talk politics. You may do that with father."
"I have told you my story, Miss Hungerford; and now it is no more than fair that you should tell me yours," I added.
"I shall be very happy to give you my whole history from my birth to the present day," replied the fair maiden, laughing. "I was born at St. Charles, and lived there and in New Orleans until about a year ago, since which time we have resided most of the time in Baton Rouge."
"Then your home is not at St. Charles?"
"Oh, yes! Our home is there, but we have one at the capital of the state also," said the mischievous girl.
"I thought you were going to your uncle's in Baton Rouge to stay until the mansion was repaired."
"I haven't any uncle in Baton Rouge, or anywhere else," chuckled Miss Blanche.
"Your father certainly said he should stay at his brother's in Baton Rouge," I added, puzzled by the statement.
"That was just as we girls used to say we were 'going to grandmother's' when we went to the seminary."
"Who is your father, Miss Hungerford?" I asked, repeating the question the planter had put to me.
"Colonel Hungerford," she answered, naïvely.
"Yes, I know; but what is he?"
"The Governor of Louisiana," replied Miss Blanche, with a merry laugh.
"The governor!" I exclaimed, appalled to think I had been talking so familiarly to the chief magistrate of the state.
"But he won't let any one call him governor when he is not attending to his official duties, if he can help it. He likes to be a plain citizen when he is off duty," continued the young lady. "We went down to stay a few days at the plantation."
Miss Margie's father called her, and thought it was too damp for her to be out after dark. We all went below, and the colonel said he must smoke his cigar. I conducted him to the pilot-house, where Owen and Miss Edith were spending the evening. My father was there also; and I took the occasion to introduce our distinguished guest to him again, with his title in full.
"So you have found me out, Captain Alick," said his excellency, with a pleasant laugh, which did much to restore the equilibrium between us. "That puss of mine has been telling family secrets, and you must promise not to tell anybody what you have discovered."
"No one not on board," I replied.
"Everybody else will know the secret, so that I shall gain nothing. But we will not quarrel about trifles."
Everybody on board was tired enough to retire early, and before ten o'clock we had the deck and pilot-house to ourselves. The watches continued the same as before. Washburn gave up his berth in our room to Billy Bell, as we learned to call him, for the captain and mate never had their watch below at the same time, and we could both occupy the same bed at different times. The river is a mile wide, and at the present high stage of the water, there was no difficulty in steering, under the instructions of the pilot.
We had a sort of panorama, or diagram of the river, which I had obtained in New Orleans, arranged on the space between the windows of the pilot-house, so that we could tell where we were at all times. Ben Bowman had put the chart on rollers, and it could be wound up from one end to the other. The only things that were likely to bother us were the bayous and cut-offs; and the pilot was at hand at any moment he might be needed.
We passed no place of importance during the night; and at five o'clock in the morning we were at Donaldsonville. We made fast to the levee, and as we were in no hurry, I did not call any of the passengers. I told Gopher and Cobbington who the planter we had rescued was, that they might have things in proper condition at the breakfast-table. I inquired what boats had stopped at the place, and learned that the Queen of the South had left two hours before. This showed that her speed did not exceed that of our little fleet.
I asked if any passengers had landed, and was informed that several had done so. I thought I would visit the hotels, and see if Cornwood and Nick were at any one of them. I was about to leave the steamer when the governor came out of the cabin. He insisted that I should not leave the vessel, as the rascals might see me. They could not escape from the place except by boat. He went ashore himself, after I had given him a full description of the fugitives.
He returned in a short time, and said a report would come down in the course of an hour or two. Our party had a merry time at breakfast, and the meal was as elaborate as the resources of the New Orleans market and the skill of Gopher could make it. Colonel Hungerford, as he insisted that we should call him, was in the highest spirits. Before the meal was over, a gentleman came on board and desired to see the governor. He was the marshal of the city. No such passengers as had been described to him had landed. He had telegraphed to Baton Rouge for the police to search the steamer on her arrival.
Nothing more could be done, and we started up the river again. We arrived at the capital of the state at four in the afternoon. We spent the day in viewing the wonders of the mighty river, the waters of which were almost up to the top of the levees. The governor said that the country was inundated for thirty miles, though we could see but little water except what was between the fringe of the trees on the banks of the stream.
It takes the waters about a month to travel from the melting snows on the north and north-west to the Gulf. At the mouth of the Missouri the flood rises about twenty-five feet; below the Ohio the rise is sometimes more than fifty feet, while at New Orleans it seldom exceeds twelve feet. The greater height, caused by the addition of the waters of the Ohio to the flood, is reduced in Louisiana by the passage of much of the flow through the Atchafalaya, La Fourche, and other bayous, into the Gulf of Mexico.
On our arrival at the capital, we found that the Queen had not been searched, for telegraphic communication with points below had been cut off by the flood.
CHAPTER XXIX.
UP THE RIVER FOR MANY DAYS.
Colonel Hungerford was even more vexed at the failure of the plan to arrest the fugitives than I was. But Baton Rouge was on the last of the bluffs that one sees in descending the great river, and above the region of continuous levees. There was no doubt we could operate from this region, and secure the capture of the fugitives.
"How long since the Queen left?" asked the governor, of the man who had given us the information.
"She must have been gone nearly three hours," he replied.
"The fugitives are not likely to leave the steamer before she gets to Vicksburg, for there is no railroad from any point this side of that city. It is thirty-five miles from here to Bayou Sara. The steamer may stop there, and may not," said the governor, musing. "That is the last place in this State at which she is at all likely to make a landing. I will telegraph at once."
Without waiting to see any of our passengers ashore, I went with the governor to the telegraph office. He sent the dispatch to an official, directing him to board the steamer, if she did not stop, and arrest the fugitives, a sufficient description of whom I gave him. When this was done, Colonel Hungerford had time to attend to the landing of the party. He insisted that all the passengers should go to his residence and stay over Sunday with him. Colonel Shepard declined, and declared that he and his family had no claims upon his hospitality. A good-natured controversy ensued, and ended in the Colonel and all the others yielding the point.
Three carriages started for the residence of the chief magistrate, and another was awaiting his orders at the levee. By this time a reply came from the official in Bayou Sara, in which he promised to follow the instructions of the governor as soon as the steamer came in sight, for she had not yet appeared.
"Now, Captain Alick, if you will get into the carriage, I will take you up to the house," said Colonel Hungerford.
"You must excuse me, sir, for I have to attend to the affairs of the vessel," I answered.
"Must I argue this same question with you, too?" demanded the governor.
"I hope you will not, for I think it will do no good," I added, laughing. "Your excellency forgets that I am the captain of the Sylvania, and a true sailor never gives up his ship."
"Your ship is all well enough. You must go to my house, and bring Mr. Washburn with you."
"Impossible, sir! Our steamer is not a river boat, and she is not a flat-bottomed craft," I tried to explain. "Her keel does not take kindly to the levee. I must stay here and look out for her; but I will call at your house this evening."
But it was no use to argue the point; the governor persisted, and I finally compromised with him by agreeing that either Washburn or myself should be at his house all the time we remained in the place; in other words, we were to have "watch and watch" in visiting him. I took my first turn.
Nothing could be more delightful than the home of the governor, and I think I never saw so many beautiful residences in a city of the size of the capital. I had put on my best uniform, and prepared to make a creditable appearance in the place. Our party were presented to all the principal people of the city, who called to see the governor and congratulate him on the escape of himself and his family from the inundation, news of which had come by the steamer. I tried to keep in a corner, and talk with Miss Margie and Miss Blanche; but I was dragged out twenty times to be exhibited as the captain who ran his vessel through the crevasse, and over the cane-fields of the plantations.
We had a very large party at tea, and in spite of the embarrassments of my position, I enjoyed the occasion very much. Before we left the table the governor received a dispatch informing him that the two fugitives had been captured on board of the Queen of the South, and committed to the calaboose, or lockup. Again I felt really sorry for poor Nick Boomsby, and almost wished that he had escaped, though I could not justify myself in permitting him to do so.
On Sunday we all went to church, leaving the Sylvania in charge of a crew from the Islander, and the whole ship's company, including the pilot, dined with the governor. The next morning I was astonished to hear that Cornwood and Nick had arrived, having been brought down in charge of an officer in the night, and were in prison. Late on Saturday night I had sent by telegraph to Florida, a condensed account of the arrest of the robber and his accomplice after the fact, and the information that the money had been recovered. A reply soon came that proper officers, with a requisition for the culprits, would be sent at once for them.
In the mean time, the prisoners were brought before the court, and the evidence against them was heard. Cornwood was his own counsel, as well as Nick's. The testimony was considered strong enough to hold the fugitives for the requisition. They were sent to the lockup again, and our party resumed their merrymaking.
We rode all about the country; we went to dinner parties; and we reciprocated the hospitalities extended to us by taking the governor and his friends on several excursions in the two steamers. Mrs. Shepard improved wonderfully as soon as she realized that the earth beneath her was solid, and there was no danger of the unruly waters drowning her while she slept. It was an exceedingly jolly time we had from morning till night, and sometimes half the latter.
After we had been at the capital of the state three days, I thought it was about time to move up the river again; but the Florida officials had not yet appeared. It was not till the following Saturday that they arrived. They had been detained in procuring the requisition by the absence of the governor, and in collecting what evidence they could obtain. With the officers came Peverell, the bank messenger, from whom the money had been stolen.
Another hearing before the court was necessary. The package containing the four thousand dollars was produced, and identified by Peverell. He testified as to the manner in which the package had disappeared from the counter of the saloon. He brought the affidavits of two men who had seen Nick go off to the Islander just before she sailed, with a bundle in his hand.
Captain Blastblow and I testified that the money had been found, in equal parts, on the prisoners. The plan of Cornwood to get possession of the whole or half of the money was shown from the manner in which he had conducted himself, in causing the departure of the Islander from Key West before the arrival of the Sylvania, though the latter was in sight when the former left.
Cornwood attempted to disprove the charges by repeating the silly story he had told me. He cross-questioned the witnesses, and did his best to browbeat Peverell. The messenger showed that it was impossible that any money could have been obtained from the bank while Cornwood was in Jacksonville between the time the Floridian arrived and departed. But the court was satisfied with the evidence, and the governor complied with the requisition.
Before I left the court-room, I went to Nick to say how sorry I was for him—sorry that he had done anything to reduce himself to such a situation.
"I don't know what made me do it," blubbered Nick, to the great disgust of his fellow-criminal. "I didn't think of doing it until the minute I did it. I had been thinking, as I told you at the time, of clearing out; and the sight of the package of money seemed to show me how it could be done."
"What are you talking about, you ninny?" growled Cornwood. "You are convicting yourself."
"I don't care anything about that. I won't lie any more about it, for it ain't no use," replied Nick, sourly. "If it hadn't been for you, I should have got off all right, Cornwood."
I concluded that his penitence was not very deep. He told me then how Cornwood had come on board of the Islander and accused him of taking the package, and he had been compelled to give him half of it to prevent him from exposing him. But all he said was no more than we had reasoned out before, and the confession seemed to be hardly original.
"You can do something for me, Captain Alick," he continued. "If you will get me out of this scrape I will never do anything wrong again as long as I live!"
"I can do nothing for you," I replied, as gently as I could.
"They say you are thick with the governor, Alick. If you say the word, he will let me off," pleaded the culprit.
"He can do nothing for you any more than I can. You are in the hands of the law now, and nothing but the law can settle your case, Nick. Good-by."
I had hardly uttered the last words before I felt a heavy hand laid upon my throat, which was followed by a choking sensation.
"What are you about, Sandy Duddleton?" demanded my ancient enemy. "What have you been sayin' ag'in my boy? He's a hund'ed times as honest as ever you was!"
I thought I should be choked to death; and the instinct of self-preservation took possession of me. I sprang at the throat of my old tyrant. He went down upon the floor, and I on the top of him, before my father or any other person could come to my aid. As he went down he released his grasp on my throat in his effort to save himself.
I sprang at the throat of my old tyrant."I sprang at the throat of my old tyrant."Page 343.
"Arrest that person!" cried the justice, in the sternest of tones.
In another instant two officers had Captain Boomsby in their clutches. A complaint was made against him for a breach of the peace. The justice made short work of him; he was sentenced to pay a fine of one hundred dollars, and to stand committed until paid. It was more money than he had, and he was sent to jail. As usual, he was more than "half seas over," as he used to call intoxication when I sailed with him in the Great West. It appeared that he had followed the officers, but had some difficulty in finding "his boy."
In the afternoon the Florida party took a boat down to New Orleans, intending to return home by the steamer to Cedar Keys. I afterwards learned that both Nick and Cornwood were convicted, and sentenced to the penitentiary for three years. Though Cornwood was only an accomplice after the fact, he was the greater villain of the two. I never saw either of them again.
We spent another Sunday in Baton Rouge, and delightful as our sojourn had been, even Mrs. Shepard thought it was about time to depart. But I could not leave with my ancient enemy unforgiven. I went to the clerk of the court and paid Captain Boomsby's fine. He was released from confinement, and took the next boat down the river. He had the grace to take my hand, and say good-by before he went; and that was the last time I ever saw him.
We had a large crowd on the levee when we left, and we kept our whistles going till a bend in the river took us out of sight of the hospitable city where we had enjoyed so much. The water had fallen a little, but not much. The melting snows of the northern hills had not yet sent down their full tribute to the Gulf.
We stopped at Natchez and at Vicksburg, and were very handsomely treated by the people. But the broad river was the greatest study to us, for we had visited no end of towns and cities on our long voyage. We were interested in the numerous islands, hundreds of them. When we looked at some of them from below, the fresh foliage seemed to form a regular flight of steps. The pilot explained this appearance. The rapid current was continually wearing away the upstream end of the island, and depositing its soil on the other end, in which every year new trees sprang up; and each step denoted a period in the growth of the wood.
It was the first day of May when we reached Cairo, at the mouth of the Ohio, where the waters of the two rivers seemed to be spread out like an inland sea or lake. We found an excellent hotel there; but Washburn and I spent what time we had to spare with our friend West, who had been for a time a student in Somerset College.
A couple of days more brought us to St. Louis, where we found enough to interest us for a week. When we were about ready to continue our voyage, Colonel Shepard came into the pilot-house, where I was seated with Washburn, and wanted to know how much farther up the river I intended to go. He had heard me speak of sailing the next morning, and he thought it was about time for him to leave for New York, by train, with his family.
CHAPTER XXX.
UP ANOTHER RIVER AND HOME AGAIN.
Colonel Shepard looked somewhat perplexed, for while we were going "Up the River," not a word had been said about going "Down the River." Doubtless all our passengers thought the steamers would have to return by the way they came, and had taken it for granted that this must be the case. I had a different view of the matter.
"Do you mean to go up to Lake Itasca?" asked Colonel Shepard, as he lighted his cigar, indicating that he meant to have the talk out, and the future course of the steam yachts decided upon.
"It would be rather difficult to get over the Falls of St. Anthony," I replied. "Billy Bell don't know the way up there."
"Of course you mean to sail around to New York, and from thence to Lake St. Clair by the way you came?" suggested the colonel.
"I am happy to say that I don't mean anything of the kind," I answered with a smile. "I am afraid it would be rather tedious for our passengers to go over the same route again so soon."
"I supposed they would cut across the country by railroad and steamboat. I had intended to go from St. Louis to Pittsburg by boat."
"I hope you won't give up the voyage so soon," I protested. "I am only afraid the ladies will be sea-sick again."
"Give up!" exclaimed the colonel. "Of course there is an end to navigation in this direction. We can run up the Missouri for a week or two, up to St. Paul's, or up to Pittsburg; but I do not see the point of following either of these routes, unless it be the latter, which will bring us so much nearer to New York."
"I don't think the Sylvania has any particular business in New York, and I had not thought of taking her there again," I added. "I can't say that I should care to descend the Mississippi, cross the Gulf of Mexico, and follow the coast by the way we came. I am in favor of variety in our yacht trips."
"So am I; and for that reason, I am in favor of going to New York by steamer and railroad from here. I have three weeks more to spare, and if you wish to go up to St. Paul's or Pittsburg, I am entirely willing to go with you, Captain Alick."
"As your plans seem to be different from mine, we ought to have considered this subject at Cairo, for you have come over two hundred miles out of your way, if you intend to go to Pittsburg."
"It makes little difference to me, or to my family, where we go, for we have enjoyed this trip so much that none of us were in a hurry to bring it to an end. Mrs. Shepard has entirely recovered from her nervous debility, and I know she will be sorry when we have to part company."
"Then you had better allow the Islander to continue in the fleet; and I promise that you shall not be any farther from New York at any time than you are now, or at any point where it will take you longer to get there. More than this, the Islander shall land you twelve miles nearer New York than Pittsburg."
"Then I will go with you," replied the colonel.
"But it will take much longer to go by my way," I added.
"Will it take more than three weeks longer, Captain Alick?" asked the owner of our consort.
"You shall be in New York in half that time, if you wish."
"I suppose it is no use for me to ask what this marvellous route is to be!" queried the colonel.
"Not the least," I replied, decidedly. "No one has said a word as to where we were going for the last month, or since we decided to go up the river. Nobody seemed to care."
"We all took it for granted that the steamers were to return by the way they came," said Colonel Shepard. "I was talking with your father about the matter one day, more than a week ago; and he had the same view of the subject I had."
"We will sail at nine o'clock to-morrow morning, if you please."
"Certainly if that is the pleasure of the commander of the fleet," answered Colonel Shepard.
I had kept my own counsel so far, and I thought I had better continue to do so for a while longer. Washburn and I had settled the question, even before we left Detroit, and had procured all the information necessary to carry out our plan, for the mate first suggested it. We had taken in coal sufficient to run the steamer about two days. With this supply, we drew a little less than eight feet of water, just enough to sink the propeller.
Before night I engaged two pilots, one for each steamer, for I was not sure we could lash boats much longer. At the time appointed all our passengers were on board, and we backed out from the levee. It was so much more social to lash boats, that we did so at the request of the ladies. Recent heavy rains all over the western states had again raised the river several feet above the level it was when we arrived at St. Louis.
"Won't you explain the great mystery to me, Captain Alick?" asked Miss Margie, as I passed her, seated on the quarter-deck, reading a novel.
"What great mystery?" I inquired, taking a chair by her side.
"Why, the mystery of where we are going," she replied, with a bewitching laugh. "All the passengers are trying to solve the riddle; and no one has done it yet."
"What book are you reading, Miss Margie?" I asked.
"Little Dorrit. What has that to do with it?" said she, looking at me with surprise.
"Perhaps nothing; but before I explain to you the great mystery, as you call it, let me tell you how the book you are reading comes out. You have got acquainted with Little Dorrit, the Father of the Marshalsea, and——"
"Now, stop! I don't want you to tell me how it comes out!" protested the fair maiden, vehemently. "I wouldn't have you do it for the world. It would utterly spoil all the pleasure I might have in reading the book."
"Is that so? Why shouldn't I explain this great mystery, as well as the other? I am sure I should deprive you of half the excitement of the trip if I should tell you beforehand all about it."
"Then you needn't tell me a word!" And I did not.
At lunch-time we were in the midst of another great inland sea, at the mouth of the Missouri. Some of us wished we were going up that great river, to explore it where there were no towns, or other evidences of civilization. As that was not our present purpose, we forgot all about it as soon as we were out of sight of its mouth. Twenty miles more brought the fleet to another broad expanse of water, in which were several islands.
"Adieu to the Mississippi!" I shouted, walking from one end to the other of the steamer. But I made no further explanation.
There was a call for maps and guide-books then, succeeded by an anxious study for a few moments.
"This is the mouth of the Illinois River!" exclaimed Miss Margie, rushing up to me.
"I don't deny it," I replied. To avoid more questions, I went to the pilot-house.
"We are making about twelve miles an hour," said the pilot of the Sylvania.
"How can that be? The most we could make in the Mississippi was seven miles against the strong current."
"The current is the other way here," added the pilot.
"Do you mean that the stream runs up?"
"Precisely that," answered the man, laughing at my perplexity. "When the Mississippi is very high, it flows the water back in the Illinois for seventy miles. We get a little current here to help us. After a while, it will really be still water."
In this part of the river, the stream was full to the top of its banks, and in some places it overflowed them. The river had furrowed out a deep channel in the alluvial soil, and at low water, it had tolerably high bluffs on each side of it. It was almost as wide as the Father of Waters, where we had left it, at its lower part; but in a few hours the width began to diminish a little.
Before night, I had called all hands, and, after unbending the squaresails, sent down all the yards and top-masts, for I feared that we might have trouble with the "low bridges," and perhaps with the trees that overhung the stream in some places. We frequently met river steamers, and I found by comparison, that our lower masts were not higher above the surface of the water than the smoke-stacks of the boats.
We continued on our course all night, one of the pilots being on duty all the time. In the morning the appearance of the country was more picturesque, and we had a delightful day. In the afternoon we passed through the lake at Peoria, which was a beautiful sheet of water. We had a current to contend with, and our progress was not so rapid as it had been the day before. On the following morning we reached the head of the natural navigation of the river. I went ashore at Peru, and chartered a canal-boat, and engaged a number of horses and drivers.
"What now, Captain Alick?" called Colonel Shepard, when I came on board of the Sylvania, with the Islander made fast to her.
"Lots of work for a few hours," I replied, directing the mate to call all hands, for I wished to avoid all delays.
I found the two steamers were each drawing seven and a half feet of water. We were about to enter the Illinois and Michigan Canal, extending from La Salle to Chicago. I had ascertained that it was six feet deep; and I did not think it was likely to be below that at the present high stage of water. We had only about a hundred miles between the steamers and Lake Michigan.
The government of the United States has already considered the question of making this canal deep enough to float ordinary lake-craft, so that gunboats and other war vessels may be sent through from the Mississippi to the lakes in case of war with our English neighbors. Probably it will be done some time, but in the interests of commerce rather than war.
The steamers, drawing seven and a half feet of water, could not pass through the canal, which was only six feet deep. But I was not disturbed by this fact, as I was prepared for it. The year before, when I had put the Sylvania through a thorough course of repairs, I had removed everything out of her except her engine and boiler. She had a considerable quantity of ballast in her, composed of pigs of iron. When everything was taken out of her, she drew a little less than six feet.
The canal-boat I had engaged was drawn in between the two steamers, and we proceeded to load it with cables, anchors and ballast. We rigged a derrick formed of the foreyards of the vessels, and made as easy work of it as possible. When, at night, we had taken every movable thing out of the steamers, they realized all my expectations, for they drew only six feet. But this was making no allowance for possible shoal places; and Moses, with the engineer of the Islander, had been at work, while we were removing the heavy weights from the hold, in detaching the propellers of the two craft. With our shears, we hoisted them out into the canal-boat.
The removal of these heavy weights from the sterns set the vessels on a more even keel, fore and aft. A western river-steamer draws more water forward than aft, so that she may be the more easily worked over shoal places; while a sea or lake vessel is just the reverse. We found that we were likely to sink the canal-boat, and I was obliged to procure another. We divided the weight between the two, and then transferred our spare spars to them.
Our passengers had been greatly interested in watching the various operations in progress. It was dark when our heavy labors were finished. The ship's company and the passengers were to remain on board during the passage. Though I had told them they could take a train and be in Chicago in a few hours, they all preferred to remain, to enjoy the novelty of the canal trip.
Our passengers were really in no haste to reach their point of destination, yet they were impatient to be on the move, as is always the case with the average American traveller. I concluded to start at once, as the nights were now cheered by a full moon, and I intended to keep the boats going until they arrived at Chicago. There was nothing for the engineers and firemen to do on board, and I sent Moses Brickland and Ben Bowman forward by railroad to several designated places to engage fresh horses for us.
Our passengers sat up till midnight on the hurricane-deck, for the weather was very warm for the season in this latitude, while Washburn and the deck-hands steered. In the morning our canal drivers said we had averaged three miles an hour, with two changes of horses. This was getting along faster than I had expected. I had written to Mr. Brickland, at Montomercy, informing him when we should arrive at Chicago, and inviting him and his wife to join us there, and make the trip home in the steamer.
The next day was full of interest to our canal travellers. Our strange craft excited a good deal of interest all along the route.
When our party came on deck the next morning, they found the steamers in the canal basin at Chicago. We had made the trip in thirty-four hours, and had not touched bottom once, so far as I knew. The fleet had stopped only long enough to change horses at any place. We got the boats alongside, and sent our party on the way to the hotels, for the odor of the basin was not that of ottar of roses.
The engineers went to work on the propellers first, and after resorting to various expedients, we got them in place. Steam was up by this time, and we towed the canal boats down to a point near the lake. It required the whole day to restore our anchors, cables, and ballast to their places, rig the spars, and bend on the sails. By six o'clock we were in as good condition as when we entered the Mississippi at the Balize.
We had hardly finished the work before Mr. and Mrs. Brickland came on board. They were delighted to see us, and both of them wept when they realized that Moses and I were alive, well and happy, after our long voyage. I had sent for our passengers, and when they came on board, I introduced my foster father and mother to them; and the old people were very pleasantly received.
They welcomed my father as one who had come from the other world, for Mr. Brickland declared he had been unable to realize that he was still alive, though I had written them to that effect. My father insisted upon resigning the best state-room to them, though I had intended to give up my room, while Washburn and I divided the nights between us in the fore-cabin.
At dark we were under way, and fortunately we had smooth water, so that Mrs. Shepard had no cause to complain of the lake. At Mackinaw we stopped a day to give the party an opportunity to pull in some of the famous trout of that locality. Off Thunder Bay, where I had once weathered a gale in the Lake Bird, there was a considerable stirring up of the waters, and Mrs. Shepard declared that it was worse than the broad Atlantic; but the last was always the worst to her. She was delighted with St. Clair River, when we passed through it the next day. We crossed the Flats by the canal, and stood over to Glinten River. The region looked very natural to us, after our long absence. In the middle of the afternoon, we made a landing at the wharf back of Mr. Brickland's house.
A considerable crowd had gathered on the pier, for we had been seen by some one who reported us in town. Those who were acquainted received a warm welcome. The Shepards insisted upon going to the hotel; and I did not very strongly object, as we had not sufficient accommodations for them in the house. They remained there a week, for the springs seemed greatly to improve the health of the lady.
The Islander was started on her voyage to New York the day after her arrival at Montomercy, for the colonel wanted to use her there soon after his arrival. When his family were ready to depart, I conveyed them to Buffalo in the Sylvania. The Tiffanys wanted to see more of the country, and accompanied the Shepards. Owen had decided to go to England, and Buck Lingley and Hop Tossford felt obliged to go with him, though their year was not quite up. I landed my passengers in the canal basin.
I had not felt so sad since the news came to me of the death of my father as on this occasion. I parted with Margie Tiffany and her father—more especially with Margie—with a regret which I cannot describe. But I was permitted to write to her (and her father) as often as once a month, and I hope before long to see her in England.
Buck and Hop had not been gone more than an hour before they re-appeared with "store clothes" on, and did not look at all like the excellent sailors they were. Their real names were Richard Lawrence and Edward Blakeley; and when they appeared in their new dress I called them by their proper names. They were very sorry to leave the Sylvania, and I expressed the hope that they would come and spend a summer with me in a cruise around the Great Lakes. They promised to do it, if possible.
Once more we bade them good-by. We staid in Buffalo to see the party off for New York; and up to this time that was the last I have seen of them.
After my father joined our party, I noticed that Owen Garningham was never himself again. Though he continued to flutter around Miss Edith, he never seemed to be so well pleased with me as before. Yet I do not think he had anything against me. I could only attribute the change in him to the cancelling of the contract for the use of the Sylvania for a year, though he had said very little about the matter. He parted with me, I think with real sorrow, and hoped he should see me again before even another year had passed by.
I saw my cousin seated in the car by the side of Miss Edith. He sailed for England in June, but I have no idea how he had the courage to tear himself away from her. I have no doubt they will be man and wife in due time, though my father says his mother will never consent to the match. As soon as the train started we returned to the Sylvania. The two waiters we had hired in Florida wanted to seek their fortune in New York, and Colonel Shepard promised to do all he could for them on their arrival.
Cobbington returned to Montomercy with my father and myself. He was now in apparently good health, but he declared that it would cost him his life to remain in the North over winter. Governor Hungerford wrote to me, as he had promised to do, during the summer. Before the cold weather came, I had secured a situation in Baton Rouge for the invalid, where at the last accounts he was in good health, acting as messenger for the governor.
My father and I were so well contented in the home of the Bricklands, that we remained there the rest of the season. He built a summer residence on an island in Lake Superior, where we expect to go every season in the Sylvania. I liked my home in the west too well to think of giving it up, though I was admitted to the college at Racine in September, as Washburn was at Brunswick.
My story is told; but I hope, when I have graduated, to make another such trip as that in which we circumnavigated twenty-four states, besides New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, coasted along the whole eastern shore of the United States, visited the interior of Florida, crossed the Gulf of Mexico, and sailed "Up the River," yachting on the Mississippi.
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