CHAPTER X.
River Scenes.
I felt very anxious to make an excursion from St. Louis, and get a little shooting, either to the north-west or down near Cairo, where there are deer; but my companion was dying to get to New Orleans, and strongly urged me not to delay, "fiddling after sport." I always looked upon myself as a model of good-natured easiness, ever ready to sacrifice self for a friend; but I have been told by some intimates, that such is not my character, and some have even said, "You're a obstinate follow." If they were wrong, I suffered enough for my easiness; if they were right, I must have yielded the only time that I ought to have been firm; at all events, I gave up my shooting expedition, which I had intended to occupy the time with till a first-class boat started for New Orleans; and, in an evil hour, I allowed myself to be inveigled on board the "Western World." The steam was up, and we were soon bowling down the leviathan artery of the North American continent. Why the said artery should keep the name of the Mississippi, I cannot explain; for, not only is the Missouri the larger river above the confluence, but the Mississippi is a clear stream, with solid, and, in some instances, granite-bound shores, and perfectly free from "snags;" whereas the Missouri has muddy banks, and revels in snags, which, as many have sadly experienced, is the case with the stream on which they are borne throughout its whole length, thereby fully evincing its true parentage, and painfully exhibiting its just right to be termed Missouri; but the rights of men and women are difficult enough to settle, without entering into the rights of rivers, although from them, as from men and women, flow both good and evil. A truce to rights, then, especially in this "Far West," where every one is obliged to maintain his own for himself.
This river is one of the places assigned as the scene of the conversation between the philosopher and the boatman—a tale so old, that it had probably died out before some of my younger readers were born; I therefore insert it for their benefit exclusively.—A philosopher, having arrived at a ferry, entered a boat, rowed by one of those rare articles in this enlightened Republic—a man without any education.
PHILOSOPHER (loquitur).—Can you write?
BOATMAN.—I guess I can't.
PHILOSOPHER.—How sad! why, you've lost one-third of your life! Of course you can read?
BOATMAN,—Well, I guess I can't that neither.
PHILOSOPHER.—Good gracious me! why, you've lost two-thirds of your life.
When the conversation had proceeded thus far, the boatman discovered that, in listening to his learned passenger, he had neglected that vigilance which the danger of the river rendered indispensable. The stream was hurrying them into a most frightful snag; escape was hopeless; so the boatman opened the conversation with this startling question:
BOATMAN.—Can you swim, sir?
PHILOSOPHER.—No, that I can't.
BOATMAN.—Then, I guess, you've lost all your life.
Ere the sentence was finished, the boat upset; the sturdy rower struggled manfully, and reached the shore in safety. On looking round, nought was to be seen of the philosopher save his hat, floating down to New Orleans. The boatman sat down on the bank, reflecting on the fate of the philosopher; and, as the beaver disappeared in the bend of the river, he rose up and gave vent to his reflections in the following terms: "I guess that gentleman was never taught much of the useful; learning is a good thing in its place, but I guess swimming is the thing on the Mississippi, fix it how you will."
As I have alluded to that rara avis in the United States, a totally uneducated man, I may as well give an amusing specimen of the production of another Western, whose studies were evidently in their infancy. It is a certificate of marriage, and runs thus:—
"State of Illenois Peoria County ss
"To all the world Greeting. Know ye that John Smith and Peggy Myres is
hereby certified to go together and do as old folks does, anywhere
inside coperas precinct, and when my commission comes I am to marry em
good, and date em back to kivver accidents.
"O---- M---- R---- [ss]
"Justice of the Peace."
Let us now return to the "Western World."
Having committed the indiscretion of taking my passage on board of her, the next step I took—i.e., paying for it—was worse, and proclaimed me a griffin. The old stagers know these waters too well to think of paying before they are at, or about, the end of their journey. Having, however, both taken and paid for my passage, and committed what old maids and sailors would call the audacious folly of starting upon a Friday, I may as well give you a description of the boat.
The river at many places and in many seasons being very low, these steamers are built as light as possible; in short, I believe they are built as light as any company can be found to insure them. Above the natural load-line they flam out like the rim of a washing-basin, so as to give breadth for the superstructure; on the deck is placed the engine and appurtenances, fuel, &c.; whatever is not so occupied is for freight. This deck is open all round, and has pillars placed at convenient distances, about fifteen to twenty feet high, to support the cabin deck. The cabin deck is occupied in the centre by a saloon, extending nearly the whole length of the vessel, with sleeping cabins—two beds in each—opening off it on both sides. The saloon is entered from forward; about one-third of its length at the after-end is shut off by doors, forming the ladies' sanctum, which is provided with sofas, arm-chairs, piano, &c.; about one-fifth of the length at the foremost-end, but not separated in any way, is the smoking-place, with the bar quite handy, and the stove in the centre. The floor of this place may with propriety be termed the great expectorating deposit, owing to the inducements it offers for centralization, though, of course, no creek or cranny of the vessel is free from this American tobacco-tax—if I may presume so to dignify and designate it. Having thus taken off one-third and one-fifth, the remaining portion is the "gentlemen's share"—how many 'eenths it may be, I leave to fractional calculators. Their average size is about sixteen feet broad, and from seven and a half to eight and a half feet high; the centre part is further raised about eighteen inches, having glass along the sides thereof, to give light; they are always well painted and elaborately gilt—in some vessels, such as the "Eclipse," of Louisville, they are quite gorgeous. The cabins are about six feet by seven, the same height as the saloon, and lit by a door on the outside part, the upper portion of which is glass, protected, if required, by folding jalousies, intended chiefly for summer use. Outside these cabins a gallery runs round, covered at the top, and about four feet broad, and with entries to the main cabin on each side. The box which covers the paddle-wheel, &c., helps to make a break in this gallery, separating the gentlemen from the ladies.
Some boats have a narrow passage connecting the two galleries, but fitted with a grille door, to prevent intrusion into the harem gallery; before, the paddle-box, on one side, is the steward's pantry, and on the other, that indispensable luxury to an American, the barber's shop; where, at all hours of the day, the free and enlightened, mounted on throne-like chairs and lofty footstools, stretch their carcases at full length, to enjoy the tweaking of their noses and the scraping of their chins, by the artistic nigger who officiates. This distinguished official is also the solo dispenser of the luxury of oysters, upon which fish the Anglo-Saxon in this hemisphere is intensely ravenous. It looks funny enough to a stranger, to see a notice hung up (generally near the bar), "Oysters to be had in the barber's saloon." Everything is saloon in America. Above this saloon deck, and its auxiliaries of barber-shop, gallery, &c., is the hurricane-deck, whereon is a small collection of cabins for the captain, pilots, &c.—there are always two of the latter, and their pay each, the captain told me, is forty pounds a month—and towering above these cabins is the wheel-house, lit all round by large windows, whence all orders to the engineers are readily transmitted by the sound of a good bell. The remainder of the deck—which is, in fact, only the roof of the saloon-cabins and gallery—is open to all those who feel disposed to admire distant views under the soothing influence of an eternal shower of wood-cinders and soot. These vessels vary in breadth from thirty-five to fifty feet, and from one hundred and fifty to—the "Eclipse"—three hundred and sixty-five feet in length; the saloons extending the whole length, except about thirty feet at each end. They have obtained the name of "palace-steamers," and at a coup d'oeil they appear to deserve it, for they are grand and imposing, both outside and inside; but many an European who has travelled in them will agree with me in the assertion, that they might, with more propriety, be termed "palace sepulchres;" not merely from the loss of life to which their constant disasters give rise, but also from the contrast between the grandeur outside and the uncleanliness within, of which latter I have already given a sketch in my trip from Louisville.
Some idea may be formed of their solidity, when I tell you they are only calculated to last five years; but at the end of three, it is generally admitted that they have paid for themselves, with good interest. I give you this, on the information derived from a captain who was sole owner, and I have also heard many others repeat the same thing; and yet the "Eclipse" cost 120,000 dollars, or about 25,000l. In the saloon you will always see an account of the goodness of the hull and the soundness of the boilers hung up, and duly attested by the proper inspectors of the same. The way these duties of the inspectors are performed makes it a perfect farce, at least on most occasions.
The inspector comes on board; the captain and engineer see him, and, of course, they shake hands, for here everybody shakes hands with everybody the moment they meet, if only for the first time; the only variation being in the words addressed: if for the first time, it may run thus:—"Sir, I'm happy to make your acquaintance;" which may be replied to by an additional squeeze, and perhaps a "Sir, I reciprocate." N.B.—Hats off always the first time. If it is a previous acquaintance, then a "Glad to see you, sir," is sufficient.—But to return from this digression. The captain and engineer greet the inspector—"I s'pose you're come to look at our bilers, sir?" "Yes, sir, I am." The parties all instinctively drawing nearer and nearer to the bar. "Well, sir, let's have a drink."—"Well, sir, let's."—"A cigar, sir?"—"Thank'ee, sir!" Parties smoke and drink. Ingeniously enough, the required document and pen and ink are all lying handy: the obdurate heart of the inspector is quite melted by kindness. "Well, sir, I s'pose your bilers are all right?"—"I guess they are that, sir, and nurthin else; you can't go and for to bust them bilers of mine, fix it anyhow you will; you can't that, I do assure you, sir."—What inspector can doubt such clear evidence.—"Take another glass, sir, do."—"Thank'ee, I'll sign this paper first." The inspection is over, all except the "glass" and the "'bacco," which continue to flow and fume. The skippers of these boats are rough enough; but I always found them very civil, plain spoken, and ready to give all the information in their power; and many of them have confessed to me that the inspection was but too often conducted in the manner above described.
There is little to interest in the account of a trip down the river. The style of society met with on board these vessels, I have already given you a sketch of; it may sometimes be better, and sometimes worse. One of my "messmates" in this boat, was a young fellow who had been second captain of the mizen-top on board of H.M.S. "Vengeance;" but not liking the style of discipline, especially—as he said—the irritating substitutes for flogging which have been introduced of late years into the Navy, to suit the mawkish sensibility of public opinion in England, as well as the clamours of the all-ruling Press, he took the first opportunity of running away, to seek his fortune in the Far West. He observed to me one day, "Those chaps who kick up such a devil of a row about flogging in the Navy, whatever their intentions may be, are no real friends to the sailor or the service."
As a slight illustration of the truth of his remarks, I may here observe that a purser in the American Navy, in which service they have lately abolished flogging, told me, that soon after the paying off of a line-of-battle ship in which he had been serving, he happened to meet fifty of his old shipmates in the port, and asking them what they were going to do, they told him they were about to embark for England, to take service in the English Navy; for said they, "Since corporal punishment has been abolished, the good men have to do all the work, and that wont pay." Only three of the fifty had ever been in the English service. There can be no doubt that many gentlemen of sensitive minds, seeing the names of their brother officers dragged before the public, through the House of Commons or the columns of an anonymous Press, endeavour to keep up discipline by other means, which annoy Jack far more, or else, slackening the bonds of discipline, leave all the work to be done by the willing and the good; anything, rather than be branded as a tyrant in every quarter of the globe by an anonymous assailant, knowing full well that, however explicit a denial may be inserted, ten people will read the charge for every one that reads its contradiction. But I am wandering from my young friend, the captain of the mizen-top.
If he did not look very well "got up" in his red shirt, at all events he was clean in his person, thus forming a pleasing contrast to a young chap who came in the evening, and seated himself on the table, where I was playing a game at écarté with my companion. His hands absolutely appeared the hands of a nigger, though his voice was the voice of a white; travelling my eyes up to and beyond his face, I found it was all in keeping; his hair looked like an Indian jungle. If some one could only have caught him by the heels, and swung him round and round on a carding machine, like a handful of hemp, it would have improved him immensely; especially if, after going through that process, he had been passed between two of the pigs through the scalding-trough at Cincinnati. Among others of our fellow-voyagers, we found one or two very agreeable and intelligent American gentlemen, who, though more accustomed to the désagréments of travel, were fully alive to it, and expressed their disgust in the freest manner.
Let us now turn from company to scenery.—What is there to be said on this latter subject? Truly it is nought but sameness on a gigantic scale. What there is of grand is all in the imagination, or rather the reflection, that you are on the bosom of the largest artery of commerce in the world. What meets the eye is an average breadth of from half a mile to a mile of muddy water, tenanted by uprooted trees, and bristling with formidable snags. On either side a continuous forest confines the view, thus depriving the scene of that solemn grandeur which the horizonless desert or the boundless main is calculated to inspire. The signs of human life, like angels' visits, are few and far between. No beast is seen in the forest, no bird in the air, except from time to time a flight of water-fowl. At times the eye is gratified by a convocation of wild swans, geese, and ducks, assembled in conclave upon the edge of some bank; or, if perchance at sunrise or sunset you happen to come to some broad bend of the river, the gorgeous rays light up its surface till it appears a lake of liquid fire, rendered brighter by the surrounding darkness of the dense and leafless forest. Occasionally the trumpet-toned pipe of the engine—fit music for the woods—bursts forth; but there are no mountains or valleys to echo its strains far and wide. The grenadier ranks of vegetable life, standing like sentries along the margin of the stream, refuse it either an entry or an answer, and the rude voice of mechanism finds a speedy and certain sepulture in the muddy banks. This savage refusal of Nature to hold converse is occasionally relieved by the sight of a log hut, surrounded with cords of wood[[P]] prepared for sale to the steamers. At other times a few straggling huts, and piles of goods ready for transport, vary the scene. Sometimes you come to a real village, and there you generally find an old steamer doing duty for wharf-boat and hotel, in case of passengers landing at unseasonable hours of the night. Thanks also to the great commercial activity of the larger towns above, the monotony of the river is occasionally relieved by the sight of steam-boats, barges, coal-boats, salt-boats, &c. Now and then one's heart is cheered and one's spirits fortified by the sight of a vessel or two that has been snagged, and which the indignant stream appears to have left there as a gentle hint for travellers.
Thus the day passes on, and, when night closes in, you bid adieu to your friends, not with "Pleasant dreams to you!" but with a kind of mysterious smile, and a "I hope we sha'n't be snagged to-night!" You then retire to your cabin, and ... what you do there depends on yourself; but a man whose mind is not sobered when travelling on these waters is not to be envied.
When you leave your cabin in the morning, as you enter the saloon, you fancy a cask of spirits has burst. A little observation will show you your mistake, and the cause of it; which is merely that the free and enlightened are taking their morning drink at the bar. Truly they are a wonderful race; or, as they themselves sometimes express it, "We are a tall nation, sir; a big people." Though they drink on all occasions, whether from sociability or self-indulgence, and at all times, from rosy morn to dewy eve, and long after;—though breath and clothes are "alive" with the odour of alcohol, you will scarcely ever see a passenger drunk. Cards are also going all day long, and there is generally a Fancy-man—or blackleg—ready to oblige a friend. These card-playings are conducted quietly enough at present; but an old traveller told me he remembered, some fifteen years ago, when things were very different, and when every player came armed with a pistol and bowie-knife, by which all little difficulties as to an odd trick or a bet were speedily settled on the spot. In those days the sun never rose and set without witnessing one or more of these exciting little adjustments of difficulties, with which the bystanders were too good judges ever to interfere. In fact, they seem to have been considered as merely pleasing little breaks in the monotony of the trip.
As it may interest some of my readers, I will endeavour to retail for their amusement a sketch which was given me of a scene of boat-racing in the olden time. The "Screecher" was a vessel belonging to Louisville, having a cargo of wild Kentuckians and other passengers on board, among whom was an old lady, who, having bought a winter stock of bacon, pork, &c., was returning to her home on the banks of the Mississippi. The "Burster" was a St. Louis boat, having on board a lot of wild back-woodsmen, &c. The two rivals met at the confluence of the Ohio and the Mississippi. Beat or burst was the alternative. Victory hung in one scale; in the other, defeat and death. The "Screecher" was a little ahead; gradually the "Burster" closes. The silence of a death-struggle prevails. The Screechers put on more wood, and place more weight on the safety-valve; she bounds ahead. Slowly, but surely, the "Burster" draws nearer. The captain of the "Screecher" looks wistfully at the fires, for the boilers are well-nigh worn out. The "Burster" is almost abreast. The enraged Kentuckians gather round the captain, and, in fury, ask—"Why don't you put more weight on?"
CAPTAIN—"Boilers are done; can't bear it nohow."
KENTUCKIANS—"Can't bear it? You chicken-hearted coward—"
Knives are drawn, pistols click, a hundred voices exclaim, "Get on it yourself, or I'll bury this knife below your outer skin." Their eyes gleam—their hands are raised for the deadly blow. Wild boys, these Kentuckians; the captain knows it too well. A choice of deaths is before him; excitement decides—he mounts the breach. The "Screecher" shoots through the waters, quivering from head to stern. The Kentucky boys yell with delight and defiance. Again the "Burster" closes on her rival. Kentuckians brandish their knives, and call to the negroes, who are already half-roasted, "Pile on the wood; pile like agony; I'll ram a nigger into the fire for every foot the 'Burster' gains." Soon a cry of exultation is heard on board the "Burster," as she shoots up close to her rival. The enraged Kentuckians shout out, "Oil, I swear!--oil, by all creation!" "I smell it!" exclaims the old lady with the store of bacon. Her eyes flash fire; a few words to her slaves Pompey and Caesar, and casks of bacon, smashed quick as thought, lay before the furnace. In it all goes; the "Screecher" is wild; the captain bounds up and down like a parched pea on a filing-pan; once more she flies ahead of her rival "like a streak of greased lightning." Suddenly—horror of horrors!--the river throbs beneath; the forest trees quake like aspen leaves; the voice of many thunders rends the air; clouds of splinters and human limbs darken the sky. The "Burster" is blown to atoms! The captain jumps down, and joins the wild Kentucky boys in a yell of victory, through the bass notes of which may be heard the shrill voice of the old lady, crying, "I did it, I did it—it's all my bacon!"
The struggle over, and the excitement passed, they return and pick up such portions of the human frame as may be found worth preserving.—To resume.
Our captain was overtaken by a telegraphic message, requiring his appearance on a certain day to answer a charge of libel. From what I could glean, it seems that the captain, considering himself cheated by a person with whom he had been transacting business, took the liberty of saying to him, "Well, you're a darned infernal rascal, fix it anyhow you will!" The insulted person sued for 2500 dollars damages, and the captain was obliged to leave us, that he might go and defend his cause. He was a good type of a "hard-a-weather-bird," and I was sorry to see him obliged to quit the ship. I told him so, adding, that if he deserted us, we should be sure to get snagged, or something worse. He replied,—"Oh, no, sir; I guess you'll be safe enough; I shall leave my clerk in charge; he's been a captain of these boats; you'll be right enough, sir." And away he went ashore at Memphis, leaving us to continue our course to New Orleans.
Night came on, and we all toddled off to roost. I am habitually a very sound sleeper, dropping off the moment I turn in, and never awaking till daylight. On this occasion, however, I awoke about two o'clock A.M., and, do what I would, I could not coax myself to sleep again. While tossing from side to side, I felt the vessel strike as if gently touching a bank; and wood being a good conductor of sound, I heard the water, as it were, gurgling in. My first idea was, "We are snagged;" then, remembering how slight the concussion had been, I calmed my fears and turned over on my side, determined to bottle off a little more sleep if possible. Scarce had the thought crossed the threshold of my mind, when men with hasty steps rushed into the saloon, banging frantically at the cabin-doors, and the piercing cry was heard—"Turn out! turn out!--we're sinking!" Passengers flew from their beds, and opened their doors to get what scanty light the lamps in the saloon might afford. A mysterious and solemn silence prevailed; all was action; no time for words; dress, catch up what you can, and bolt for your life. As I got to the side of the vessel, I saw a steamer alongside, and felt the boat I was in careening over. A neighbour, in fear and desperation, caught hold of me as a drowning man catches at a straw; no time for compliments this, when it is neck or nothing; so, by a right-hander in the pit of the stomach, I got quit of his clutch, and, throwing my desk over to the other boat, I grasped the wooden fender and slid down. Thank God, I was safe!--my companion was already safe also.
It was about half-past four A.M., a drizzly, wet morning, quite dark, except the flame of the torches. A plank was got on board of the sinking boat, along which more passengers and even some luggage were saved. The crew of the sound boat had hard work to keep people from trying to return and save their luggage, thus risking not only their own lives but at the same time impeding the escape of others. From the gallery above I was looking down upon the wreck, lit up by the lurid light of some dozen torches, when, with a crash like thunder, she went clean over and broke into a thousand pieces; eighty head of cattle, fastened by the horns, vainly struggled to escape a watery grave. It was indeed a terrific and awful scene to witness. From the first striking till she went to pieces, not a quarter of an hour had elapsed; but who was saved? Who knew, and—alas! that I must add—who cared?
The crew worked hard enough to rescue all, and to them be every credit for their exertions; but the indifference exhibited by those who had been snatched from the jaws of death was absolutely appalling. The moment they escaped, they found their way to the bar and the stove, and there they were smoking, drinking, and passing the ribald jest, even before the wreck had gone to pieces, or the fate of one-half of their companions been ascertained. Yet there was a scene before their eyes sufficient, one would have imagined, to have softened the hardest heart and made the most thoughtless think. There, among them, at the very stove round which they were gathered, stood one with a haggard eye and vacant gaze, and at his feet clung two half-naked infants; a quarter of an hour before he was a hale man, a husband, with five children; now, he was an idiot and a widower, with two. No tear dimmed his eye, no trace of grief was to be read in his countenance; though the two pledges of the love of one now no more hung helplessly round his legs, he heeded them not; they sought a father's smile—they found an idiot's stare. They cried: was it for their mother's embrace, or did they miss their brother and sisters? Not even the piteous cry of motherless infancy could light one spark of emotion in the widowed husband's breast—all was one awful blank of idiocy. A wife and three children, buried beneath piles of freight, had found a wretched grave; his heart and his reason had fled after them—never, apparently, to return.
Surely this was a scene pre-eminently calculated to excite in those who wore, by their very escape, living monuments of God's mercy, the deepest feelings of gratitude and commiseration; yet, there stood the poor idiot, as if he had not been; and the jest, the glass, and cigar went on with as much indifference as if the party had just come out of a theatre, instead of having providentially escaped from a struggle between life and death. A more perfect exhibition of heartlessness cannot be conceived, nor do I believe any other part of the world could produce its equal.
The immediate cause of the wreck was the steamer "H.R.W. Hill" running into us, owing to misunderstanding the bell signal; most providentially she caught alongside of us after striking; if she had not done so, God alone knows who could have been saved. As far as I could ascertain, all the first-class passengers were saved. Do not stare at the word first-class, for although in this country of so-called equality no difference of classes is acknowledged, poor helpless emigrants are taken as deck-passengers, and, as freight is the great object, no space is set apart for them; they are stowed away among the cargo as best they can be, with no avenue of escape in case of accidents, and with the additional prospect of being buried beneath bales and barrels. I believe fifteen passengers perished in this way: one poor English-woman among the deck-passengers fought her way through the freight, and, after being nearly drowned and trampled to death under the hoofs of the cattle, succeeded in escaping. A slave-merchant with a dozen negroes managed to save all of them, inasmuch as, being valuable, he had them stowed away in a better place. The moment the wreck was completed, we proceeded up the river, wasting no time in trying to save any part of the cargo or luggage. My own position was anything but a pleasant one, though I trust I was truly thankful for my preservation. I found I had managed to throw my desk between the two steamers, and it was therefore irrecoverably lost, with all my papers, letters of credit, journal, &c. I had also lost everything else except what T had on,—rifle, guns, clothes,—all were gone. A few things, such as money, watch, note-book, which I always kept in my pockets, were all my stock in trade. Fortunately, my friend had saved his papers, and thus our identity could be established at New Orleans. In the course of a few hours we saw a fine steamer coming down the river, in which we embarked, and again pursued our journey south.
In the afternoon we passed several pieces of the wreck: the shores were covered with the casks of pork and mustang liniment which had formed a great part of our freight. At one place, a large portion of the wreck, was made fast ashore, and being plundered by the settlers on the bank; boxes and trunks were all broken open and cleaned out; little boats were flying across the river full of pork and other prizes: it was an universal scramble in all directions, and appeared to be considered as lawful plunder by them as if they had been Cornish wreckers. It was hopeless to try and recover anything, so we continued our journey, and left our goods to the tender mercies of the landsharks on the banks. Having lost all my papers, I was obliged to forego the pleasure I had anticipated from a visit to Natchez, or rather to the gentlemen and plantations in the neighbourhood.
As you approach the lower part of the river, signs of human life become more frequent; the forest recedes, the banks of the river are leveed up, and legions of Uncle Tom's Cabins stud the banks; some, clustered near the more luxurious but still simple building wherein dwells the proprietor, surrounded by orange groves and the rich flowers and foliage of southern climes. These little spots appear like bright oases in the otherwise dreary, uninteresting flats, which extend from the banks on either side; yet it is only as a scene they are uninteresting; as a reality, they have a peculiar interest. On these Hats the negro slave expends his labour and closes his life, and from the bitter of his career the white man draws the sweet luxury of his own. How few reflect upon this, even for as many seconds as it takes to melt the clarified lump in the smoking bohea. But here we are at La Fayette, which is the upper or American end of New Orleans, where steamers always stop if there are any cattle on board, which being our case, we preferred landing and taking an omnibus, to waiting for the discharge of the live-stock. Half an hour brought us to the St. Louis Hotel, and there you may sit down a minute or two while I make some observations on the steaming in Western rivers.
The whole system and management is a most grievous reproach to the American nation. I speak not of the architecture, which is good, nor of the absurd inconsistency in uniting such palatial appearance with such absolute discomfort, which perhaps, with their institutions and ideas, it would be very difficult to remedy. My observations refer more to that by which human life is endangered, and the valuable produce of human labour recklessly destroyed. The following extract from a Louisville paper will more than justify any animadversions which I may make:—
DISASTERS ON WESTERN RIVERS.—The Louisville Courier has published a
list of disasters on Western waters during the year 1852. It is a
formidable one, embracing 78 steam-boats, 4 barges, 73 coal-boats, 3
salt-boats, and 4 others, flat-boats. It appears that 47 boats were
lost by being snagged, 16 by explosions, 4 were burnt, and the others
lost by collision and other mishaps. The greatest number of lives lost
by one disaster was the explosion of the "Saluda," 100. The total loss
of life exceeds 400 persons.[[Q]]
Here is a list of one hundred and sixty-two vessels of different kinds, and four hundred human beings, lost in one year; of which vessels it appears forty-six were snagged. You will naturally ask here, what precautions are taken to avoid such frightful casualties? The answer is short—None. They had a few boats employed once to raise the snags, but the thirst for annexation ran them into a war, and the money was wanted for that purpose. The Westerns say they are ridden over by the Easterns, and that Government will do nothing for them.[[R]]
It is not for me to decide the reasons, but the fact is but too clear, that in a country boasting of its wealth, its power, its resources, and not burdened with one farthing of debt, not a cent is being expended in making the slightest endeavours to remove the dangers of this gigantic artery of commerce. And what would be the cost of this national object? The captains of the boats told me that two dozen snag-boats in three years would clear the river; and that half that number could keep it clear; yet, rather than vote the money requisite, they exhibit a national indifference to the safety of life and property such as, I may confidently affirm, cannot be found in any other civilized nation. A very small tax on the steamers would pay the expenses; but the Westerns say, and say with truth, "This is not a local, this is a national question. Government builds lighthouses, harbours, &c., for the eastern board, and we are entitled to the same care for our commerce." A navigation of two thousand miles is most certainly as thoroughly a national question as a seaboard is. It should also be remembered that, if the navigable tributaries be added, the total presents an unbroken highway of internal commerce amounting to 16,700 miles—a distance which, it has been remarked, "is sufficient to encircle Europe and leave a remnant which would span the Atlantic."
Next on the list comes the "explosions." I have already given you an account of how the so-called examinations are too often made. Surely these inspections might be signed upon oath before a magistrate; and as surely, I should hope, men might be found who would not perjure themselves. The burnt vessels are few in number, and more than one case has, I believe, been tried on suspicion of being set fire to intentionally.
The last on the list is "collisions, &c." By the "&c.," I suppose, is mount vessels which, having run on the river till they wore only fit for firewood, still continued "just one more trip;" and then, of course, the slightest concussion, either on a bank or a floating log, would break them up like a chip basket. The examination on this point is conducted like that of the boilers, and the same remedy might readily be applied. I think, however, that the greater number of losses from collisions, &c., may be chiefly ascribed to the collisions. The cause of these collisions is easily understood, when you are informed that vessels meeting indicate the side they intend to take by sounding a bell. They have no fixed rule, like vessels meeting at sea. The sound of the toll of the second bell may easily be blended with the first, if it be struck hurriedly, which in cases of danger is more than probable; or, the sound of a single toll may find an echo and be mistaken for two tolls. The collision we met with was caused by this very misunderstanding; at least, so the captains mutually explained it. The reason given me for this unsettled system was, that, owing to banks and currents, vessels could not always take the same side. Supposing this to be so, still, a more correct indication of the side intended to be taken might be obtained by lights kept burning for that purpose in a box with a sliding front, removeable at pleasure by a line leading to the wheel-house, in the same way as the lanyard of the bell is at present fitted; and a further palpable advantage would be obtained by obliging vessels meeting in the night to stop the engines and pass at "slow speed." In addition to these precautions, a stout cork fender, extending round the bows some ten feet on each side, and fixed every night at dark, would materially lessen the chances of destruction, even if collision did take place.
There is, however, another cause of accident which the Louisville paper does not allude to, and that is overloading. We started about two and a half feet out of the water when leaving St. Louis, and, long before we met with our accident, we had taken in cargo till we were scarce five inches above the river. Not only do they cram the lower or freight deck, but the gallery outside the saloons and cabins is filled till all the use and comfort thereof is destroyed, and scarce a passage along them to be obtained. Seeing the accidents such reckless freighting must necessarily give rise to, what more simple than obliging every vessel to have a float or loading line painted from stem to stern at a certain elevation, making the captain and owners liable to a heavy penalty if the said line be brought below the water by the freight. There is one other point which I may as well notice here, and that is the manner in which these boats are allowed to carry deck-passengers. There is no clear portion of deck for them, and they are driven by necessity among the bales and boxes of freight, with no avenue of escape in case of accident. These are the people who suffer in cases of snagging and collision, &c. These hardy sons of toil, migrating with their families, are all but penniless, and therefore, despite all vaunt of equality, they are friendless. Had every deck-passenger that has perished in the agony of a crushing and drowning death been a Member of Senate or Congress, the Government would have interfered long ere this; but these miserable wretches perish in their agony, and there is no one to re-echo that cry in the halls of Congress. They are chiefly poor emigrants, and plenty more will come to fill their places.
If the Government took any such steps as those above recommended, the fear of losing insurance by neglecting them would tend greatly to make them respected. Companies would insure at a lower rate, and all parties would be gainers in the long run; for, if the Government obtained no pecuniary profit, it would gain in national character by the removal of a reproach such as no other commercial country at the present day labours under.
There is, moreover, a moral point of view to be taken of this question—viz., "the recklessness of human life engendered by things as they are."
The anecdotes which one hears are of themselves sufficient to leave little doubt on this point. Take, for instance, the following:—A vessel having been blown up during the high pressure of a race, among the witnesses called was one who thus replied to the questions put to him:—
EXAMINER.—"Were you on board when the accident took place?"
WITNESS.—"I guess I was, and nurthing else."
EXAMINER.—"Was the captain sober?"
WITNESS.—"Can't tell that, nohow."
EXAMINER.—"Did you not see the captain during the day?"
WITNESS.—"I guess I did."
EXAMINER.—"Then can, you not state your opinion whether he was drunk or not?"
WITNESS.—"I guess I had not much time for observation; he was not on board when I saw him."
EXAMINER.—"When did you see him, then?"
WITNESS.—"As I was coming down, I passed the gentleman going up."
The court, of course, was highly amused at his coolness, and called another witness.—But let us turn from this fictitious anecdote to fact.
It was only the other day that I read in a Louisville paper of a gentleman going into the Gait-house Hotel, and deliberately shooting at another in the dining-saloon when full of people, missing his aim, and the hall lodging in the back of a stranger's chair who was quietly sitting at his dinner. Again, I read of an occurrence—at Memphis, I think—equally outrageous. A man hard pressed by creditors, who had assembled at his house and were urgent in their demands, called to them to keep back, and upon their still pressing on, he seized a bowie-knife in each hand, and rushed among them, stabbing and ripping right and left, till checked in his mad career of assassination by a creditor, in self-defence, burying a cleaver in his skull.
In a Natchez paper I read as follows:—"Levi Tarver, formerly a resident of Atala county, was recently killed in Texas. Tarver interrupted a gentleman on the highway; high words ensued, when Tarver gave the gentleman the lie; whereupon the latter drew a bowie-knife, and completely severed, at one blow, Levi's head from his body."
In a St. Louis paper, I read of a German, Hoffman by name, who was supposed by Baker to be too intimate with his wife, and who was consequently desired to discontinue his visits. Hoffman remonstrated in his reply, assuring the husband that his suspicions were groundless. A short time after he received a letter from Mrs. Baker, requesting him to call upon her: he obeyed the summons, and was shown into her bedroom at the hotel. The moment he got there, Mrs. Baker pulled two pistols from under the pillow, and discharged both at his head. Hoffman rushed out of the house; scarce was he in the street, when Mr. Baker and three other ruffians pounced upon him, dragged him back to the hotel, and placed guards at the door to prevent any further ingress from the street. They then stripped him perfectly naked, lashed him with cow-hides till there was scarce a sound piece of flesh in his body, dashing cold water over him at intervals, and then recommencing their barbarities. When tired of this brutality, they emasculated their wretched victim with a common table-knife. And who were these ruffians? Were they uneducated villains, whom poverty and distress had hardened into crime? Far from it. Mr. Baker was the owner of a grocery store; of the others, one was the proprietor of the St. Charles hotel, New Bremen; the second was a young lawyer, the third was a clerk in the "Planter's House." Can the sinks of ignorance and vice in any community present a more bloody scene of brutality than was here deliberately enacted, by educated people in respectable positions, in the middle of the day? What can be thought of the value of human life, when I add that all these miscreants were bailed?
These are merely the accounts which have met my eye in the natural course of reading the newspaper, for I can most truthfully declare I have not taken the slightest trouble to hunt them up. The following, which bears upon the same point, was related to me in the course of conversation at dinner, and it occurred in New Orleans. Mr. A. treads on Mr. B.'s too several times; Mr. B. kicks Mr. A. down stairs, and this at a respectable evening party. Now what does Mr. A. do? He goes outside and borrows a bowie-knife from a hack-cabman, then returns to the party, watches and follows Mr. B. to the room where the hats and cloaks were placed, seizes a favourable moment, and rips Mr. B.'s bowels open. He is tried for murder, with evidence sufficient to hang a dozen men; and, to the astonishment of even the Westerns themselves, he is acquitted. These facts occurred not many years since, and they were narrated to me by a gentleman who was at the party.
When two members of the Legislature disgraced the halls at Washington, by descending into the political arena with pistols and bowie-knives, and there entering into deadly conflict, were they not two Western members? Now, what do these occurrences prove? Certainly not that all Westerns are bloodthirsty, for many of them are the most kind, quiet, and amiable men I have ever met; but, when taken in connexion with the free use of the bowie-knife, they afford strong evidence that there is a general and extraordinary recklessness of human life; and surely, common sense and experience would both endorse the assertion, that habituating men to bloody disputes or fatal accidents has a tendency to harden both actors and spectators into utter indifference. And what is the whole of the Western river navigation but one daily—I might almost say, continual—scene of accidents and loss of life, tending to nourish those very feelings which it is the duty of every government to use all possible means to allay and humanize?
The heartless apathy with which all classes of society, with scarce individual exceptions, speak of these events is quite revolting to a stranger, and a manifest proof of the injurious moral effect of familiarizing people with such horrors. The bowie-knife, the revolver, and the river accidents, mutually act and react upon each other, and no moral improvement can reasonably be expected until some great change be effected. Government can interfere with the accidents;—deadly weapons are, to a certain extent, still necessary for self-protection. Let us hope, then, that something will ore long be done to prevent disasters pregnant with so many evils to the community, and reflecting so strongly on the United States as a nation.[[S]] Having gone off at a tangent, like a boomerang, I had better, like the same weapon, return whence I started—in military language, "as you was."
FOOTNOTES:
On the Mississippi a cord contains one definite quantity, being a pile 1 feet high, 4 feet broad, and 8 feet long, and does not vary in size in the same absurd manner as it does in various parts of England: the price paid is from eight to thirteen shillings, increasing as you descend the river.
A committee of the United States calculated that, in 1846, the losses on the Mississippi amounted to 500,000l.; and as commerce has increased enormously, while precautions have remained all but stagnant, I think it may be fairly estimated, that the annual losses at the present day amount to at least 750,000l.
Vide chapter on "Watery Highways."
Since writing the above, some more stringent regulations as to inspection have appeared, similar to those advocated in the text; but they contain nothing respecting loading, steering, &c. In fact, they are general laws, having 110 especial bearing on Western waters.