Yet several Germans inhabit the town and neighborhood.
As nothing in the way of work was to be found in the town, I went to the river to try and get something to do on board a steamer. The steamers “Fox” and “Harp” were moored side by side. I went first on board the “Fox,” and was engaged as fireman, at thirty dollars a month. In an hour the boat started. I was quite contented, and had no trouble with my luggage. We ran down the Arkansas to its mouth, then up the Mississippi to Memphis, and back again to Little Rock. The work of a fireman is as hard as any in the world; though he has only four hours in the day and four in the night to keep up the fires, yet the heat of the boilers, the exposure to the cutting cold night air when in deep perspiration, the quantity of brandy he drinks to prevent falling sick, the icy cold water poured into the burning throat, must, sooner or later, destroy the soundest and strongest constitution. How I, unaccustomed to such work, managed to stand it, has often surprised me.
In addition, there was the dangerous work of carrying wood, particularly in dark and wet nights. One has to carry logs of four or five feet in length, six or seven at a time, down a steep, slippery bank, sometimes fifteen or twenty feet in height when the water is low, and then to cross a narrow, tottering plank, frequently covered with ice, when a single false step would precipitate the unfortunate fireman into the rapid deep stream, an accident which indeed happened to me another time in the Mississippi. It is altogether a miserable life, offering, moreover, a prospect of being blown up, no uncommon misfortune, thanks to the rashness of the American engineers.
I carried on this work for some time, till the desertion of the cook at Memphis caused a vacancy in that department. Just as the boat was about to start, I offered myself for the place, and was accepted, although I knew nothing more than how to boil a kettle; yet I very soon learned as much as was necessary.
When I returned to Little Rock I released my gun and hunting-knife. The next voyage was to the mouth of the Arkansas and back. The rude coarse life among the lowest class of people soon disgusted me, and, in addition to this, I had incurred the enmity of the captain, who disliked me, probably only because I was a German. Yet he could not do without me; but as I could not find a substitute, I was obliged to make another voyage, and this time up the river. I already had an idea how my service would terminate, and having my game-bag packed, and my gun, hunting-knife, and a tomahawk that I had purchased, all at hand, I was prepared for any thing that might happen.
Two days after our departure, the captain came down to me as I was in the act of giving the remains of a meal to a poor old woman, who was on her way to join her children, but who had not wherewithal to pay her passage. An old Pennsylvanian had informed me that the captain had been abusing me. This, and the question, “Who gave me permission to give away the provisions?” put me in a rage, and I asked him, rudely, in return, “If he would rather that I should throw them overboard?” The “yes” was hardly out of his mouth, when plate and food were floating in the Arkansas. He gave vent to his rage by springing on me, and seizing me by the breast; in return I sent him sprawling against the opposite side. He was quickly up again, and snatching up a piece of broken hand-spike, made a desperate blow at me, which I luckily avoided. My fury now knew no bounds; I grasped his throat, and was dragging him to the side to throw him overboard, when his cries brought the engineer and boatswain to the rescue. One of them pulled the captain away by his legs, while the other took me by the shoulders, and then both carried the captain, whose head was bleeding severely, into the cabin. I was ordered to go directly to the book-keeper, received my pay, the steamer stopped, I was landed on the bank, the boat returned on board, and I found myself in quite a new and extraordinary position.
All around me was a solitary wilderness—the river behind me, the ground frozen hard, and covered with a thin sheet of snow—a cold north wind blowing through the leafless branches. I felt in my pocket for my fire apparatus—it was all wet; not a single grain of powder in my powder-horn, and only one barrel loaded. I thought it would never do to discharge my gun for the sake of lighting a fire, and remain unarmed in the wilderness. I cleared away the snow from under a tree, lay down, and tried to sleep; but the wind was too sharp, the cold insupportable, and I was afraid of being frozen. Driven to extremity, I discharged my gun against the root of a tree, lighted a match by the burning wadding, collected dry grass and wood, and in a minute or two had a glorious fire.
Although I heard the howls of several wolves, I did not mind them, but enjoyed a sound sleep. Certainly, on the following morning, I trudged on rather out of spirits, with no powder, and a very hungry stomach.
I followed the direction of the river downwards, in hopes of finding a house. After I had gone some distance, I saw an old, half-sunken canoe. I baled out the water with my cap and found that she was still serviceable. My former intentions of visiting Texas returned in full force; I decided on crossing to the other side to look for a house, and procure food and powder, and resolved then to strike off in a south-west direction in search of the route to Texas.
I had hardly gained the opposite bank when I discovered a large flock of wild turkeys. I took aim, and pulled the trigger, forgetting that I had not loaded: they took to the trees on my approach, and I suffered the tortures of Tantalus at the sight; but there was no help for it, and I was obliged to pass on. As it always happens in such cases, I saw quantities of game this day.