I found that the decks of the steamers were common ground, and most of them could only be reached by passing over others. But near the levee I found a wharf, the lower end of which was under water, at which I concluded we could lie by paying wharfage. I ran the Sylvania in as far as I could and made fast. The Islander came up alongside of her, and was secured to the bow and stern. My father and the Tiffanys concluded to take up their quarters at the St. Charles Hotel, so that they could see more of the city. I called a carriage for them; and then the Shepards decided to follow their example, as they were tired of being on the water for over a week.

As soon as they were gone we thought it was time to attend to the disposition of the prisoners. My father had taken the money with him, but the hotel was not more than a quarter of a mile from the wharf. I sent Buck Lingley to assist Captain Cayo, and he was assigned to the care of Nick Boomsby.

"Here we are," said Captain Blastblow, after everything had been put in order on both vessels. "Do you expect to get away from here this summer?"

"This summer! I expect to get away from here in two or three days," I replied, rather startled by the remark of the captain.

"I think not," he added, shaking his head ominously.

"Why not?"

"Are you a lawyer, Captain Alick?" demanded Captain Blastblow, with a very comical expression on his face.

"I am no lawyer, not even a sea-lawyer," I answered, wondering what he was driving at.

"Neither am I; but it has occurred to me that we might be kept here longer than we wanted to stay."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I was thinking just now that if we had let Cornwood and Boomsby escape from the steamer last night it would have saved us a world of trouble," added Captain Blastblow, with a cunning leer and a wink.

"I don't understand you," I replied, satisfied by this time that he had found a mare's nest, or there was some kind of trouble ahead.

"We have two men in the fore-cabin who are charged with robbery."

"One of them is; the other is an accomplice after the fact," I replied.

"That sounds as though you had been a lawyer all your life, or at least since you put on jacket and trousers. An accomplice after the fact! I suppose that he took part in the robbery after it was all done."

"It means that Cornwood took the money, knowing it was stolen, and aided and abetted Boomsby in escaping. In my opinion, he came down to Key West solely to get part of the money. But no matter for that; what is to keep us here all summer?" I asked.

"I presume you mean to hand the robbers over to the police of New Orleans?" queried Captain Blastblow.

"That is the only thing we can do, unless we carry them back to Florida; and I don't care about going back there so soon."

"Just so. I don't know anything about law; but once I brought in a fellow in my vessel who had committed a crime in another State. One of the passengers who knew all about the crime complained of the rascal, and he was hauled up before a court. It so happened that I knew something about the matter, and I was summoned as a witness, and the man was sent to jail. I could identify the man, but no one else could. They had to send south for a requisition from the Governor of Georgia. For one reason and another it took two weeks to get it, and I had to stay home from one trip to Savannah to appear as a witness."

"And you think we may be kept here as witnesses," I inquired, with no little anxiety.

"We are dead sure to be kept here till the Governor of Florida can send an officer with a requisition for the prisoner. It will take at least one week for that, and it may take two or three. Somebody must complain of Boomsby and Cornwood in Jacksonville, and then the governor must be sure that it is all right. After all this the Governor of Louisiana must be sure that he is not sending a man off who is not likely to be guilty."

The situation looked rather trying to me, and I decided to go on shore and have a talk with my father about it. As soon as I reached the customhouse I bought a Picayune, and the first thing I saw in the paper was "Further Details of the Great Storm." I found that the whole country above was inundated, and that it was expected the river would rise still higher. Many railroads could not send out trains, bridges had been carried away, and many lives had been lost. It was an appalling state of things. Vast numbers of men were employed in strengthening the levees above New Orleans. The Missouri River had risen higher than ever before, and whole villages had been carried away in the North-western States.

I found my father in the reading-room of the St. Charles devouring the contents of a newspaper. He began to give me the startling intelligence, but I told him I had just read it. I then stated the situation in relation to our two prisoners. He was alarmed at the prospect of a long delay, for the heat was intense in the city. Besides, we were not sure the city itself would not be inundated by the rising waters.

My father was as much perplexed as I was. Our business was "Yachting on the Mississippi," and the idea of being detained two or even three weeks for the officials of two States to investigate a case that was plain enough to us was hardly to be endured on the one hand, while we had no desire to have a crime go unpunished on the other. We were certainly in a dilemma. We decided to have a conference with the rest of the party.

We found them in the ladies' parlor. Mrs. Shepard was fanning herself vigorously, and I judged that she was in a very unhappy state of mind. I had seen very little of my passengers during the voyage from Jacksonville, for the heavy sea which constantly deluged the deck had kept them in the cabin. I spoke to the colonel's wife, and hoped she was very well.

"I am not well at all, Captain Alick," she replied. "My nerves are shaken all to pieces by the voyage from Jacksonville, and if my husband owns the Islander for the next twenty years I shall never go to sea in her again."

"Indeed, is it so bad as that? But you have not been in the Islander in any very heavy weather," I added.

"I was in the Sylvania when I never expected to see land again; and I shall never forget that terrible time after the shipwreck, for I never suffered so much in one night, though I have crossed the Atlantic four times. I am told that you managed the Sylvania very well, and I have no doubt of it; but it was a terrible storm for such a small vessel. Last night I wished I was in the Sylvania, for I was very much alarmed when we were carried down the river by that terrible building."

"My wife don't feel safe in the city," added Colonel Shepard. "She is afraid we may be inundated here. She prefers to be on board of the steamer, and wants to start up the river immediately."

"I do feel safer on the river than I do on shore," said Mrs. Shepard. "I heard there was a case of yellow fever in the city."

"Impossible, so early in the season," replied her husband.

"At any rate, I don't want to stay here another day."

The lady was nervous, but she could not help it; and her health seemed to be falling back under the excitement of the recent trip.

Our conference resulted in a decision to sail up the river next morning, taking our prisoners with us. I went back to the wharf, and informed Captain Blastblow of the wishes of the party.

Cornwood and Nick seemed to be very well satisfied with their condition on board. But I wanted to see something of the city if the passengers did not, and Washburn and I used up the afternoon in going to the principal points of interest. It would take a whole volume to give my impressions of New Orleans; but that is no part of my present purpose. At nine o'clock the next morning our passengers came on board, and we started up the river.



CHAPTER XXIV.

A CREVASSE ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

When Mrs. Shepard came on board, she seemed to be more composed. She declared that, when the whole country was under water, she felt better to be in a boat. During the night the water had risen nearly a foot, and the citizens were not a little alarmed. Hundreds of laborers were at work on the levees, and several small crevasses had been made a few miles above the city. We had engaged a pilot, though rather for the information he could give us than because we needed him in the navigation of the river.

Captain Cayo had taken leave of us, and Colonel Shepard had paid his bill for services and expenses. I liked the pilot very well; and I was sorry to lose him. The white man and the negroes rescued from the floating building stayed on board as long as we remained at the wharf. It was not easy for them to return to their homes; and they had no money to pay for their food and shelter. We made up a liberal purse for them, and divided it equally among them; and they went ashore very grateful to us for what we had done. Captain Blastblow said they made more money by coming with us than they could by staying at home.

At Colonel Shepard's request we "lashed boats" for the sociability of the thing. We rigged a plank bridge, with a railing to it, so that the ladies could pass from one steamer to the other without assistance, though Owen was always ready when the young ladies wished to pass from one to the other. After this job had been done, I went forward and found Cornwood at the helm, where I had left the pilot. I was not exactly pleased to see him at the wheel. After we had left the wharf, Nick and the Floridian had been permitted to enjoy the liberty of the deck, for I did not believe they would be likely to attempt to escape while the country seemed to be covered with water in every direction.

"What are you doing there, Cornwood?" I asked, as I entered the pilot-house.

"The pilot has gone below for some matches, and I offered to take the wheel while he was absent," replied Cornwood, in the mildest of tones.

"I will thank the pilot to call a deck-hand when he wants to be relieved," I replied.

"You think I mean mischief, I dare say," he added, with his silky smile; "but you can see that I can do no harm if I desired to, which I do not. Captain Blastblow is at the wheel of the other steamer."

At this moment the pilot came in, with a cigar in his mouth, and took the wheel.

"Captain Garningham, I should like to have a little talk with you," said Cornwood. He led the way to a couple of chairs on the forecastle, which had just been abandoned by the young ladies.

"Captain Garningham, I have been subjected to such an outrage as I never before experienced in my life," said the Floridian.

"I think you cannot greatly wonder at it," I replied.

"Should you wonder at it if a party were to come on board of the Sylvania, take you by force, strip you almost to the skin, and rob you of your money? That is precisely my case, and you say I need not greatly wonder at it," continued Cornwood, as mildly as he had begun.

"I think my case would be a little different from what yours was," I replied.

"As yet I have not even been informed of the cause of such brutal treatment. If you had stayed a few hours longer in New Orleans, and had not treated the men you picked up on the house so liberally, I should have sought a remedy in a writ of habeas corpus."

"I don't think you were quite ready to adopt such a course as that, for it would have resulted in having you sent to the calaboose to wait for a requisition from the Governor of Florida," I answered, laughing at what I considered the absurdity of the proceeding. "The only reason we did not hand you over to the police was that we were afraid of being detained as witnesses."

"I understand you; and I prefer to fight this battle in some other State than Louisiana. I shall not try to escape; and I know that Nick Boomsby will not. If I am not always honest, I am now; and I assure you I don't know the reason for the savage treatment I received on board of the Islander; and I will thank you to tell me. In a word, I entreat you to do so."

I concluded that Cornwood wanted to prepare for his defence, for I was satisfied that he understood the charge as well as I did. But he seemed to be so earnest over the matter that I went over the case for him.

"When you started from St. Augustine to recover the Islander, you were satisfied that Nick Boomsby had stolen the four thousand dollars," I proceeded.

"On the contrary I was satisfied that Buckner stole it," interposed Cornwood.

"I am stating my belief, be it right or wrong. When I told you about the sailing of the Islander without her owner and his family, you were satisfied that Nick was on board of her, and that he had the money stolen from the messenger."

"Nothing could be farther from the truth; but go on," added the Floridian.

"You would not have gone to Key West to stop the Islander at your own expense."

"I did go at my own expense," added Cornwood, with a smile.

"But not to stop the Islander," I added.

"I admit that I had another mission there. I had been thinking of going to Key West on business for a week."

"When you got there you forged a letter to Captain Blastblow, to induce him to leave before the arrival of the Sylvania," I added.

"That was a little harmless strategy to enable me to carry out the purpose for which I went to Key West," added Cornwood, with the smoothest of smiles.

"I never heard forgery called by that name before," I replied, with becoming severity.

"It was not to obtain money, or any other valuable consideration from Colonel Shepard that I wrote his name. Why, I could have made two hundred dollars by detaining the Islander," said the Floridian, with spirit.

"Instead of doing what he employed you to do, you sold him out, and let his steamer go off without him. You were satisfied that Nick had the four thousand dollars with him, and you were bound to have the half, if not the whole of it. It looks like a plain case."

"You are taking an entirely wrong view of the matter, Captain Garningham," protested Cornwood. "I shall be able to prove in due time that you are utterly mistaken."

"Two thousand dollars were found on you, and the same on Nick."

"I grant that this fact has a suspicious look about it; and I can not greatly blame you for your course, though the brutality exercised upon me was entirely unnecessary. Now I will explain the whole matter to you just as it was; and you will see that you were greatly mistaken."

"I am ready to hear anything you have to say," I replied.

"That four thousand dollars is a rather annoying coincidence," he began.

"I should think it might be," I added.

"You quite mistake my meaning. I am willing to admit that I have told professional lies in the interest of my clients. I am Buckner's counsel, though I told you to the contrary. He admitted his guilt to me."

"Did he, indeed? Did he tell you what he did with the package of bills after he took it from the counter?"

"He did: he acknowledged that he was guilty, and told me how it was done," replied Cornwood, with easy assurance, of which I had seen a great deal on his part. "Buckner's wife was at the door of the saloon, and he gave the package to her as he rushed out. She had it under her shawl before Nick got half way to the door. She went home; and my client considers it a successful affair. He offered me five hundred dollars to get him out of the scrape, and that is the fee for which I am working just now, in part."

"And he gave you the money, did he?" I asked, hardly able to keep from laughing in the face of the guileless Floridian.

"Not he, for his wife started for Kentucky, or some other state, as soon as she got the money. This is where the unlucky coincidence comes in. My first business in Key West was to see that Nick did not return home, as I feared you would compel him to do when you found him on board of the Islander. My second was to pay four thousand dollars, which I drew from the First National Bank of Florida Friday morning before I started for Cedar Keys."

"O, I see! That was where the four thousand dollars came from," I exclaimed.

"Precisely so. I was to pay it into the Marine Court, pending a suit in which I was interested, against a salvage company."

"But you did not pay it in."

"How could I when it was Sunday? I intended to do so the next day. When I found that Nick did not mean to stop in Key West, I directed Captain Blastblow to get up his anchor and hurry to New Orleans before the Sylvania came in. I could not get ashore myself when I had induced Nick to continue the voyage. The four thousand dollars was a burden to me, and I asked Nick to take part of it from me to keep till we got to our destination. The loss of it would ruin me, and I thought it would be safer in the care of two persons than one. That's the substance of it, and you can see that it explains the whole affair."

"I see it does: it makes it all as clear as Mississippi mud," I replied, laughing heartily.

"You evidently do not believe the statement I have made," said the Floridian, looking very much wounded in his feelings.

"Whether I do or not, Cornwood, we will not quarrel about it," I added, as good-naturedly as I could.

"I will show you some documents I have in my valise which will make it all as clear as the pure waters of Green Cove Springs."

"I think I will not look at them at present. Has Nick learned this story by heart?" I inquired. "He used to be a very bungling liar when we were small boys together; and I don't know whether he has improved any or not."

"I think it is rather cruel of you, Captain Garningham, to sport with my feelings when I have been subjected to such inconvenience and discomfort by you."

"I must be candid with you, Cornwood. If I take your statement for the truth, I judge that you are liable to the state prison, or whatever you call it in Florida, for what you have done. You know that Buckner is guilty, but you are engaged in a conspiracy to keep the principal witness out of court, which makes you virtually an accomplice to the crime."

"You forget the duty I owe my client, who has entrusted his sacred liberty in my keeping."

"Most of the lawyers I ever knew were honest men, and I don't believe one of them would resort to such a trick to clear his client. What's all that?" I exclaimed, as I saw a gathering on the levee of the right bank of the river.

"A crevasse in the levee," said the pilot. "It's a bad one, too."

A steamboat was backing her wheels near the opening, evidently to prevent being sucked into the breach by the furious current that poured through it. Quite a number of men were assembled on the levee, but they seemed to be incapable of doing anything to stop the flow of the water. When we came abreast of the crevasse, we could see through it to the country beyond. It was covered with water, which was pouring in through the breach at a frightful rate.

"That was done by the crawfish that burrow into the levees, for I see some of their houses on the top, where they go when it is high-water," said the pilot.

Just then a row-boat came to the crevasse, and fearlessly headed into the opening. In an instant it was swamped, and the two men it had contained were struggling in the mad current. They held on to their oars, and were swept rapidly inland.

"There will be a hundred lives lost by that break," added the pilot. "There are several plantations on that knoll, and the water is lifting the houses on it."

I could see the houses toppling over, half a mile from the levee.



CHAPTER XXV.

SAILING ACROSS THE FIELDS.

I was appalled at the terrible sight. It was an open country, and there were few trees to be seen, except around the houses at the plantations. It looked like an inland sea. I saw the two men struggling in the water at some distance from the levee. They were evidently trying to touch bottom with their feet, but the water was over their heads.

"How deep is the water on that flat, Mr. Pilot?" I asked, not a little excited at the idea of witnessing such a loss of life as he had predicted.

"I should say it was from eight to ten feet deep all the way to those plantations," he replied.

"Why don't one of the steamers waiting here go over to the assistance of those poor people?" I inquired.

"They can't get through, and they would be swamped if they should try it. The breach is not more than thirty feet wide, and these boats would stick till they were torn to pieces. They are so low in the water that it would put their fires out when they went through and fill their holds."

I looked about the decks of both our steamers, and found that all the passengers were on board of the Islander. I told Ben Bowman, who was on duty in the engine-room, to put on all the steam she could safely carry. He assured me he had enough for anything.

"Look out, Captain Blastblow, if you please, for I am going to cast off," I called to the Islander. "Keep the ladies in a safe place. All the Sylvanias on board!"

I went into the pilot-house, and rang to back the steamer. I kept her moving until we were in the middle of the river. I had carefully examined the crevasse, and I judged that the water was not more than two feet lower on the flat than it was in the river.

"How deep is the water in the cut, Mr. Pilot?" I asked.

"Not less than eight feet; and it may be ten. You can't tell."

I stopped the Sylvania, and then rang to go ahead at full speed.

"Are you going through the crevasse?" demanded the pilot.

"I see no difficulty in doing so. Mr. Washburn, see that every opening in the deck and deck-house is closed and securely fastened."

"It will be a ticklish business to go through that breach," said the pilot, shaking his head.

"Would you let a hundred people drown without doing any thing to save them?" I asked.

"Not if I could help it. I am willing to do all I can; but I shouldn't wonder if your boat made a dive into the mud on the other side of the levee, and stuck there."

"If she does we have two life-boats at the davits," I replied.

The Sylvania soon got up her best speed, and the pilot steered the steamer for a point just above the crevasse. I closed the windows of the pilot-house, and directed all hands to go on the hurricane-deck, except the engineers and firemen.

"I think you ought to stop the engine, for she will go through quick enough without any help," suggested the pilot.

"We must have steerage-way, or we can do nothing," I replied with quick tones, for we were within a few fathoms of the whirl of waters that were dashing through the crevasse. I felt the speed of the steamer increasing, and I firmly grasped the wheel with the pilot.

"You know this boat better than I do, and this business is a little out of my line; but I will help you all I can," said the pilot, who seemed to be fully self-possessed, though he was not used to handling a vessel like the Sylvania.

Washburn came into the pilot-house, after seeing that all the openings were closed, and the ship's company disposed in safe places.

"I don't think you will have any trouble going through there, Alick," said the mate.

"I don't know as you will, but I wouldn't take a river-boat through such a place unless she was insured for her full value," added the pilot.

"No more talking, if you please," I added.

We had entered the rapid current that swept into the crevasse. It was a thrilling moment, for the next minute would determine whether the Sylvania was to be swamped or not. But I had a reasonable degree of confidence in the vessel. She had always done all I expected of her, and I could hardly conceive of her disappointing me in this instance.

The people assembled on the levee uttered a long and deep shout of warning to us, but we had gone too far to recede even if we had been disposed to do so. I saw the two men who had been swamped in the small boat, still buoying themselves up with the oars; and beyond them the houses tottering over as they were undermined by the rising waters. The sight of these was quite enough to keep my courage up, and no thought of doing anything but trying to save those who must perish without assistance came to my mind.

The little steamer rushed madly into the opening, with her screw turning at its most rapid rate. When she had reached the fall she made a tremendous dive, as it were, burying her bowsprit in the muddy tide. Tons of the yellow fluid, loaded with sediment, flowed in on the forecastle and swept aft. I judged by the shock that she struck her fore-foot into the earth.

The muddy water swashed up, and entirely covered the windows of the pilot-house, leaving enough of the soil to make the glass as opaque as the levee itself. We could not see a thing outside after this volume of mud was discharged upon the windows. But in another instant I felt the bow of the steamer rising. The screw was still shaking the vessel, and I felt that no great injury had been done to her.

"Open the windows, if you please, Washburn," I said, trying to keep as cool as possible.

"We are all right now," added the pilot. "One of our river steamers would never have come up after that dive."

I rang the speed-bell as soon as I felt that we were fairly through the cut in the levee. A yell from the people assured us that we were all right, if we did not find it out before.

"I suppose you are not a pilot in these waters!" I continued, turning to Mr. Bell, for that was his name.

"Well, hardly, in these waters: at any rate I never took a steamboat over this ground before. But I reckon I can do it as well as any other man, for I was raised along here, and I know the lay of the land as well as the water," replied the pilot.

The escape of steam from the safety-valve showed me that the engineers had slowed down, though I could not yet perceive it in the motion of the vessel. We were approaching the two men on the oars, and I rang to stop and back her. There was no difficulty in steering the steamer after we were out of the swiftest of the current, and I left the pilot-house.

The Sylvania looked as though she had been buried in yellow mud for a year, and had just been dug out. The water had all passed out at the scupper-holes and swinging-ports; but the deck and a considerable portion of the deck-house were covered with the mud from the water. All hands except the chief engineer and one fireman had come out of the hiding-places, and were ready for duty.

"Clear away the starboard quarter-boat," I called. "Mr. Washburn, you will pick up those men, and do it as quick as possible, for we are needed at those plantations."

The crew got into the boat and lowered it into the water. In a moment more they were pulling with all their might for the two men, who were some distance apart. They picked them up, one at a time, and came back to the Sylvania. They hooked on the falls, and with the help of Ben Bowman and Hop Tossford, hoisted the boat up to the davits. The two men rescued from the water seemed to be very much exhausted, and we helped them on deck.

The moment the boat was out of the water, I rang to go ahead. I told Moses to let her run at half speed, for I was afraid she might strike against some hummock, or other obstruction, and stick in the mud, which would cause a delay, if nothing worse. I sent Buck to the top-gallant forecastle with the hand lead, and he reported eleven feet.

"The ground is low here," said the pilot; "but I think we can carry eight feet up to the knoll on which the houses stood. They must have had eight or nine in some parts of it, or the cabins of the niggers wouldn't have been upset."

"I think we can hurry her a little along here," I replied, ringing the speed-bell.

"By the mark twain," said Buck.

"He threw the lead into a hole that time," added the pilot.

"And a half-one," continued Buck.

"You will hold that all the way till you get to the knoll," said Mr. Bell. "We are going at a rattling speed."

"We shall be all right as long as we have eight feet. Our coal bunkers are pretty well emptied, and I don't know but we could go with seven and a half. It is plain sailing; but we must feel along when it gets down to eight and a half," I replied.

The two men who had been taken from the water came to the forecastle at this moment. They were covered with yellow mud, and of course they were wet to the skin. But it was a hot day, and the sun was shining brightly. When I asked them, they told me they had come from one of the steamers that had stopped at the levee to render assistance.

"Eight feet and a half," shouted Buck.

I rang the speed bell, which soon reduced our rate one-half. Buck still reported eight and a half. We were within a hundred yards of the mansion-houses, of which I could see four, the lower parts of which were under water. We could see the inmates in the second stories. But the negro cabins were upset and many of them were floating about. It was evident enough that they had been built on lower ground than the residences of the planters. The knoll was covered with shade-trees and shrubs, and the estates were as beautiful as anything I ever looked upon—that is, what I could see of them above the water.

"Eight feet!" shouted the leadsman, with energy.

I rang to stop her, for I could feel a sort of sensation as though the keel of the Sylvania was making a furrow in the field under us. The steamer stopped almost as soon as I rang the bell. But as the water was rising instead of falling, I did not feel at all concerned about her situation. I immediately ordered both boats to be lowered. Ben and Hop went off in one, and Buck and Landy in the other. Not far from the knoll, which could not have been more than three or four feet above the flat over which we had been sailing, I saw the boat the two men from the steamer had been swamped in. I told Buck to tow it to the steamer, and we had it alongside in a few moments. I sent the quarter-boat back to the rescue of the people in the houses and cabins. The river steamer's boat was full of water. We drew her under the davits on the port side, made fast to her, and hauled her out of the water, hoisting the bow end first, so that the water would run out of her. When both ends were abreast of the rail of the vessel, we tipped her over, and entirely freed her of water. I sent Washburn and Dyer Perkins in her to assist the other two boats.

Even at this important hour, the abominably dirty condition of the Sylvania, which had been bathed in mud, actually pained me. Away from the furious current of the crevasse, the mud settled, and the water was comparatively clean. Cobbington and the two waiters had been at work swabbing the quarter-deck, but with no good result. I directed the engineer to rig the fire-engine, and we soon drowned the decks with water. This, with the swabs, made clean work. By the time the first boat came off from the knoll, the Sylvania looked nearly as neat as when she had left the great river. The hot sun dried the planks about as soon as they were swabbed.

In the port-boat, under the direction of Ben Bowman, was a family of four persons whom I took to be the occupants of one of the mansions. A gentleman and his wife, with a son and daughter, were the first helped on board: nearly all the others were negroes. I showed the white people down into the cabin, and directed Cobbington to do all he could for their comfort.

In the course of half an hour we had seventy-two persons whom we rescued. We were unable to find any more. The three boats had searched every house which could contain a human being. They had taken men, women and children from the trees, as well as the houses. We sounded the whistle vigorously, and then waited for any call.

There were no more, and I directed the pilot to work back to the levee.



CHAPTER XXVI.

A DESPERATE STRUGGLE WITH THE RUSHING WATERS.

The water had risen so that the Sylvania had swung around and drifted half-way up to the knoll, or to the houses on the highest part of it. As soon as we were under way, I had a chance to look over our large number of passengers. Three-quarters of them were negroes, mostly house-servants. I was told that the field hands had escaped in another direction before the water rose high enough to prevent it. The inundation was only partly due to the crevasse, for the water had broken in at some unknown point in the rear of the plantations.

We had taken off the four families that occupied the mansion houses. They were all highly cultivated people, ladies and gentlemen in the highest sense of the words. I had conducted them all to the main cabin; but they were not disposed to remain there. They wanted to see how the Sylvania was to return to the Mississippi River, and expressed many doubts as to her being able to make her way through the crevasse against the strong current. I had some painful doubts myself in this direction. I had told the engineer about them, and hinted that we should want all the steam he could carry. But it was only a question of the power of the engine to force the vessel against the current. There would be no pitching and plunging, such as we had experienced in coming the other way.

We had not long to deliberate upon the matter of our exit from the fields over which we had been sailing. As the water had risen about a foot inside of the levee, I considered our chances good of going through without much difficulty. I went to the wheel, and took a place by the pilot. I saw that several steamers had arrived during our absence, and the pilot said they were attached to the levee force, and had come to close the breach. I could not see how it was to be done, but I had no time to think of the matter. I rang the gong one stroke when we were within a hundred yards of the crevasse, as I had arranged with the engineer to do.

The Sylvania soon began to shake and quiver as though she were in the hands of an angry giant, under the pressure of the steam. I had sent all the passengers to the after part of the vessel, giving the planters and their families places on the hurricane-deck. I desired to trim her aft, as we had hardly coal enough in the bunkers to keep the screw entirely under water. I regarded it as an excellent thing to have so much "live ballast" on board. I gave Buck and Hop strict orders not to let a single person come on the forecastle.

I put Cobbington and Ben Bowman on the hurricane-deck, to keep the passengers there on the after part. If a few went forward, they would all do so, for it was the best place to see the operation of the steamer. By these means I hoped to keep the propeller entirely under water, and thus get the full benefit of its action on the swift current. It was still a torrent, but by no means so terrible as when we had gone through before.

Moses Brickland had never shaken the Sylvania as he was shaking her now. He was a prudent young man, and I never had occasion to criticise what he did. He understood the present situation as well as I did. The levee force was waiting to close the gap, and thus save many more lives miles from the scene of its operations. We must get through at once, or the gap would be closed. The abrupt fall was not more than a foot now, and I had strong hopes that we could overcome it.

It seemed to me that the water was rushing through the crevasse at the rate of twenty miles an hour. The arithmetic of the situation was therefore all against me. Moses had never run the Sylvania more than twelve knots an hour, and he was obliged to hurry her to do that. He had told me he could get fifteen miles an hour out of her on a great emergency, but he had never been disposed to try it. He had overhauled the boiler at New Orleans, and reported it in first-rate condition. Yet I could not, mathematically, see how a vessel going fifteen miles an hour could stem a current of twenty miles.

But the force of the current was merely guesswork. It might be twenty, and it might be no more than ten miles. Mr. Bell agreed with me on the former figure, while Washburn and Ben Bowman insisted that it was not more than ten at the present time. If I "split" the difference between the two estimates, it would leave just the result which the engineer could obtain on an emergency like the present.

The Sylvania went into the rapid current, which we began to feel at fifty yards from the gap. But it did not stop, or even sensibly detain us, for the water was scattered as soon as it passed through the opening. We made our course at a right angle with the levee, and kept the helm firmly against any tendency to "wabble;" for if the swift tide had struck her on the side, it would have hurled her around in spite of us.

At twenty yards from the levee we began to slacken our speed, for here we got almost the full force of the current. But she still went ahead, though she quivered as if the struggle would shake her in pieces. Not one of us said a word in the pilot-house. I directed the helm, for I was more accustomed to the working of the steamer than any of my companions.

The bow went up abreast of the inside of the dike. The Sylvania trembled like a race-horse after his first heat. We held her head steadily up to the work, but I could not see that she gained a single inch. The propeller whirled like a circular saw, such as I had often observed in the lumber-mills at home. I almost fancied that I could hear it buzz.

I watched the edge of the crevasse, but I could not see that we either gained or lost. For several minutes we struggled against the savage tide. It was a desperate situation. The people on the levee, now swelled into a crowd by the arrival of several steamers, were watching us with intense interest. No one spoke a word.

"Look out sharp for the helm, Mr. Bell," I shouted, so as to be heard above the roar of the rushing waters and the clang of the engine.

I thought he did not respond to my movements with the wheel as promptly as was necessary. I felt that the least turn to the right or the left would be fatal to us, for by this time I realized that the situation was vastly more perilous than when we went into the current before. The least "wabble" might cause the current to strike her on the side, and send her over on her beam ends in the vortex below us.

"Can't you crowd her a little more, Moses," I called through the speaking-tube.

"Not much more," he promptly replied.

"We are not losing anything," said the pilot, holding his breath.

"Mind the helm," I replied, for I felt that I could not hold her alone. "If we get the bow half a degree across the current, it is all up with us."

"I can hold her alone, but you take the feeling off my hands," he answered, warmly.

He meant that I began to move the wheel before he felt the pressure on his hands, for one steers a vessel very much as he drives a horse, and depends quite as much upon feeling as upon sight. My feeling was much quicker than his, and I would not give up the helm to him, but told him he must watch my movements.

"We have gained an inch!" exclaimed the pilot.

"What is an inch going through such a torrent as this?" I replied, though I felt encouraged by the fact, if it was a fact, for I dared not look to the right or the left, as he did.

It seemed to me that the steamer would soon go through the crevasse or shake herself to pieces in the struggle. The jar and the quivering were so much increased that I was sure Moses was doing something more than he ordinarily considered his best. In a few minutes more we had worried up the little fall, which indicated the difference between the height of the water on either side of the levee. We had gained several yards, but I don't think we made more than an inch a minute; and those minutes seemed like hours.

Suddenly the Sylvania began to increase her speed through the water, and I concluded that we had passed the swiftest part of the current. Washburn informed me that the stern of the steamer was inside of the cut, and I felt that the battle was won. Still I kept my eyes fixed on the flagpole forward, in order to hold the vessel in the middle of the gap.

"I think we shall fetch it," said Mr. Bell.

"No doubt of it, if we don't lose our chances by talking about them," I replied.

The pilot said no more. I did not want him to abate his zeal until we were outside of the levee, for it would have been the easiest thing in the world to lose all we had gained by the struggle of the last hour. We kept it up half an hour longer. When the bow was outside of the levee, I was afraid Bell would think we were safe, while it was still possible to be carried back. But the steamer increased her speed every moment now, and we were soon out in the broad river. I kept her on her course, and as soon as she was clear of the treacherous current, she darted off at a furious speed.

"All right, Moses!" I shouted through the tube. The next instant I heard the steam escaping furiously through the safety-valve. I had no doubt that the chief-engineer felt an intense relief when he heard my voice the last time, for no money or any consideration short of the safety of the Sylvania would have permitted him to put on such a press of steam.

"Excuse me, Mr. Bell, if I spoke sharply to you, or said anything that hurt your feelings, for I meant nothing of the kind," I said to the pilot, when we were in the middle of the river.

"Don't mention it, captain," he replied, warmly. "I can say, and I reckon I know something about steamboats, I never saw a boat better handled than this one has been from first to last. I thought I had only a boy for a captain, but I find that you understand your business."

"Thank you, Mr. Bell; you are very kind to say so," I replied, with a blush. "I think I know the feeling of this vessel's helm rather better than any one in these parts, and I was a little afraid you might not see the necessity of keeping her up, without any wabbling."

"You were right every time, captain. I never handled a craft of the sort before, and it was quite right for you to trust her to no one but yourself."

As soon as we were fairly out in the river, the people on the levees set up a volley of cheers, which was taken up by the negroes on board. I saw the Islander had made fast to a steamer a little below the breach, and I asked the pilot to lay the Sylvania alongside of her.

"Young man, you are a brave boy," said Colonel Hungerford, the planter who had first come on board of the steamer. "I was on the point of telling you before you started back, that you could never get through that hole; and I was going to tell you of a way by which you could have got through the lakes and streams into the Bayou la Fourche, and up that to the Mississippi. But I see you need no advice from me. We are all very grateful to you."

"I beg you will not feel under any obligation to us, for we are sort of sea-knights, roaming about in quest of adventures; and we were very glad of the opportunity to render you and others any assistance. I believe you and your family were in no particular danger."

"I don't know about that, my young captain," replied the planter, shaking his head. "My mansion is surrounded with verandahs, and the water was beginning to lift it off its foundations."

I took my glass and looked at the house. One end of it appeared to be lifted up.

"I would not have staid in it two hours more for half the state. I have been through three inundations before, and I know something about them," replied the planter. "I hope I shall see more of you."

As we came up to the Islander, the passengers of both vessels, on board of her, began to clap their hands. I was embarrassed by this demonstration, and after asking Washburn to see that we were made fast to our consort, I sat down in the pilot-house where they could not see me.



CHAPTER XXVII.

THE PLANTER AND HIS FAMILY.

I was quite exhausted after my efforts and the strain put upon me, and I was in no humor even to be praised. Some of the negroes our boats picked up on planks and on their toppling houses might have been drowned; but I did not believe the people in the mansion-houses were in any great danger. However, I had never seen an inundation before, and I may have been mistaken. My father was one of the first to visit me in the pilot-house.

"You have done well, Alick," said he; and that was all he did say, for he was not given to praising any one beyond his desert. "What are you going to do with all these people?"

"We can land them, or put them on board of one of the steamers here," I replied; and I had not thought of the matter before.

"Mrs. Shepard is very nervous indeed, and is anxious to get away from this place," continued my father.

"The Islander might have gone on," I suggested.

"We could not leave until assured that you did not need the assistance of the other steamer. We were about to send a line to you and attach it to one of the steamers. The only trouble was to get a line long enough and strong enough."

While we were talking Colonel Hungerford came into the pilot-house. I introduced him to my father, and the planter indulged in more praise which I do not care to repeat. He informed me that he had chartered one of the river steamers to take his servants and those of the other planters down to Carrollton, a few miles below.

"I am now going on board of another steamer to inquire if she is bound up the river, for I have concluded to visit my brother at Baton Rouge. But I suppose my mansion will not be fit to live in for some weeks to come, if ever. I desire to know your address, Captain Alick,—excuse me, but that is what I hear others call you,—that I may communicate with you at some future time."

"Quite unnecessary," said my father, with a smile, as though he suspected the object of the inquiry.

"But I desire to express my sense of obligation to your son for the great service he has rendered me and my family," persisted the planter.

"You have done that already, sir, to my entire satisfaction," I added.

"You are very strange people, not to allow me to do something."

"We are decidedly averse to having anything done," replied my father, laughing, not because anything was funny, but to prevent the southern gentleman from taking offence at what he said. "My son owns and commands this yacht, and I dare say he will be glad to have you take passage in his steamer to Baton Rouge, or any other point on the river in our route."

"I shall be most happy to accept your very kind invitation," replied Colonel Hungerford, promptly.

By this time the steamer he had engaged to take his "people," as he called them, like one of the patriarchs of old, came alongside. The four planters had a consultation, as to what disposition should be made of the servants, and the business manager of one of them was appointed to take the entire charge of the party. The other planters were going to New Orleans, and the same steamer was to convey them there.

In less than half an hour the boat started, and we restored things to their former condition on board of the Sylvania and Islander. We lashed boats again, and restored the bridge from one vessel to the other. All hands were employed in cleaning up the Sylvania; and I asked Captain Blastblow not to allow any of his passengers or crew to come on board till this had been done. He complied with my request, and sent all his crew on board to help.

We did not get under way until this was done, as Moses wanted to overhaul the engine a little, for he declared that such a wrenching as he had given the machine was enough to start half the nuts and bolts. My father remained in the pilot-house talking with the planter. But the subject of their conversation was the inundation. I lay upon the sofa, resting myself, and rather dreading to meet the people on board the Islander, for I had been praised enough, and this sort of thing was becoming more embarrassing. As the hands were drowning the decks again, Washburn brought the family of Colonel Hungerford into the pilot-house, which was about the only place for them, unless they went into the cabin.

The planter introduced his wife, son and daughter to my father and myself. In the daughter I saw a very beautiful young lady; the son was very affable and pleasant, and the father and mother were not less so. All of them began to express their obligations to me, and I replied as cheerfully as I could.

"We shall have a very pleasant party up to Baton Rouge, Colonel Hungerford," I ventured to say, in order to turn the current of the conversation.

"It's no use, Blanche," said the colonel to his daughter, who had been the last to speak. "Captain Alick won't let you speak of any obligation, and he won't even give me his address."

"I don't think he has any address in particular at present," interposed my father, "unless it be on the high seas or the Great Lakes. I have not yet made a home in America, as I intend to do. When we have one, we shall be very glad to have you discharge whatever sense of obligation you may feel by making us a visit; and we shall judge of the depth of the obligation by the length of the visit."

"Upon my word, that would be an odd way to discharge an obligation; and we should be obliged to stay with you all the year round," replied the planter.

The young lady had snapping black eyes; and I saw that she wanted to say something, but was restrained by the newness of the acquaintance.

"If we had got out on the river half an hour sooner, we might have saved imposing ourselves upon your hospitality, for a large steamer went up then," said Colonel Hungerford. "She stopped a little while at the crevasse, I am told, but finding she could do no good, she went on."

"I am glad she did, as otherwise she would have cheated us out of your pleasant company," replied my father.

"You are very kind, Major Garningham," replied the colonel. "I confess I am greatly interested in your steamer, for I never have seen one like it before that I can remember."

Washburn reported that the engine was in order, and that the cleaning process was finished. I directed the pilot to blow his whistle and go ahead. In a few minutes we were again stemming the tide of the Mississippi. The crowd on the levees and the steamers honored us with a series of rousing cheers, to which the pilot replied with the steam whistle.

As soon as we were fairly out of the vicinity of the late exciting scene, the passengers of the Islander, including Mrs. Shepard, came on board. They were all presented to the planter and his family, and of course there was a great deal to say about the inundation, including the details of the escape of the people on the knoll. I found that the party were soon the best of friends, and I went into my room to lie down. I was so tired that I dropped asleep.

I was awakened by Captain Blastblow coming into my room. He seemed to be considerably excited; but I was sure he would not be where he was if any accident had happened to either steamer.

"Sorry to disturb you, Captain Alick, but this has been a very exciting time; and while we were all so busy, your two prisoners have taken to themselves legs or wings, and cleared out," said he, with a lugubrious gaze at me, as I sat upon the bed.

"Cleared out!" I exclaimed. "Where have they gone?"

"That's what bothers me. I kept my eye on them for a good while, but they behaved so well that I soon forgot all about them as we became so absorbed in the fate of the Sylvania," replied the captain, blankly. "I know I ought to have kept an eye on them to the end, and I am to blame. But it wasn't quite human to mind much about those rascals when we expected every minute to see your steamer fall back and be swamped. I had both boats ready to drop into the water."

"Gone, have they?" I repeated. "Haven't you any idea where they went? Your steamer was not near the levee, and they would not have gone ashore there, if it had been."

"I can only guess where they went. Not long before you got out of that hole, a large passenger steamer came alongside, and held on at our bowsprit-bitts awhile. She kept her wheels working all the time, while I was telling the captain what had happened. I am inclined to think that Cornwood and Boomsby stepped on board of her before she left. I found just now that their baggage was gone; and they could easily have got it out of the fore-cabin while I was talking to the captain. I am sorry for it, and if it hadn't been for that break, and your running into that hole, it would not have happened."

"How far ahead of us is that steamer?" I asked.

"She must be all of two hours ahead," replied Captain Blastblow.

"I am sorry we have lost them, but it can't be helped," I added, as I led the way out into the pilot-house where the passengers were assembled. I told my father of the escape of the robbers, and asked him if the money was still safe, meaning the four thousand dollars.

"It must be, for it was in my trunk in the Sylvania all the time you were inside of the levee," replied he. "But I will make sure of it." He went down into the after cabin, and returned with the intelligence that it was where he had put it. This was some relief; and we dropped the matter because we could not do anything about the escape of the rascals. I felt rather cheap about the matter, because I had not delivered them to the police at New Orleans.

While I was asleep, my father and Mr. Tiffany had directed Cobbington to remove their portmanteaus, as they called their trunks, from the grand state-rooms. They reported to me, and I assigned one of them to the planter and his wife, and the other to Miss Blanche. They were delighted with the apartments. Owen insisted upon giving up his room to Mr. Tiffany; and there were berths enough for my father and my cousin. Our cabin was about full again.

I saw that my father was very much pleased with the planter and his family; and I think one might have gone all over the country to find people more agreeable.

Supper was ready by the time the passengers had taken possession of their rooms and berths. I took the captain's place in the cabin for this occasion, though I often did so while we were in the river and the Sylvania was in charge of the pilot. Colonel Hungerford sat next to me on one side, and I told him all about the robbery of the bank messenger, and the escape of our prisoners.

He thought it very probable that they had taken the steamer bound up the river.

"Donaldsonville is the next town of any importance; and there we can telegraph to some place ahead of the steamer, and have the robbers detained by the police. Does any one remember the name of the steamer?" asked the colonel.

Miss Margie Tiffany remembered that it was the Queen of the South. Owen was so reckless as to say he was glad the prisoners had got away, and he hoped they would succeed in eluding the police. We were yachting on the Mississippi, and we could not bother with arresting and holding prisoners. We had the money they had stolen, and that was enough.

"We may find the Queen of the South at Donaldsonville when we get there," continued Colonel Hungerford. "It is seventy-four miles from St. Charles, which is the nearest post-office to my plantation. When shall we get there?"

"Not until early in the morning," I replied. "We can't get along very fast against this current."

"The Queen may be there, as she will arrive in the night, waiting for freight or passengers," replied the planter. "If you will allow me, I will take charge of the apprehension of those men, for I think I shall understand it better than you, as I have had considerable experience in such cases."

Colonel Hungerford looked slyly at his wife and daughter. I could not understand the meaning of his expressive communication; but I was entirely willing he should cause the arrest of the fugitives.



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, naively.

"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.



"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.