The life of an arksman floating down the Ohio and Mississippi was an easy one when all went well, yet subject hourly to most perilous contingencies. Beyond manning the sweeps, the crew had little to do, save to prepare their food and care for their live stock.
During the first six days after passing the falls the ark made unusually good progress, the moonlight enabling Captain Royce to continue during at least a part of four of the nights. They passed the then uncleared site of Evansville and of Henderson, not yet the home of the naturalist, Audubon, and threading the great “oxbows” of the river, came where the mighty Wabash, flowing down past old Vincennes, poured its grand stream of clear, green water out across the roily Ohio.
On the last of these nights, Moses was standing at the great steering oar, his gaze fixed curiously on the high bluffs beside which the ark was passing. Somewhere at the bow he supposed that Lewis was swinging his feet and thinking pretty much the same thoughts as Moses himself. The great boat with all its freight was wrapped in utter silence. Hours ago, it seemed to Mose, the cocks had awakened the echoes of the shore with their drowsy “oo—oo——oo——OO,” and tucked their heads under their wings again.
“These must be the palisades Marion talked about,” Mose reflected. Marion had told him to call him if they were reached before daybreak, for it would mean that they were passing along the Illinois shore, through the region of the cave robbers.
The high limestone cliffs were gray in the moonlight, but here and there Moses saw deep black fissures, the entrances of caves. Remembering his orders, he called to Lewis.
“Lew! Oh Lew! Ahoy the bow!”
There was no answer.
“Must have dropped asleep,” Moses said to himself. He put his fingers into his mouth and whistled shrilly.
In a moment half a dozen men had come running to the deck.
“What’s happened? What’s the matter? Where’s Lewis?” they asked.