“I don’t want you up here to-night, George,” said he, after he had spent a few minutes in conversation with Bob. “Go down, and turn in. Let Bob sleep in my bunk.”
“O, I have money enough to pay my fare, and secure a stateroom,” said Bob.
“The rooms are all full—we’ve got a big passenger list this trip—and so we shall have to take care of you,” replied George. “But you don’t want to go to bed now, and neither do I. I am going to take the wheel.”
“But I am afraid to trust you with it,” said the pilot.
“Why, don’t you suppose I know this part of the river?” demanded George. “I’ll hold her jackstaff on that clump of tall trees up there in the bend until her starboard smoke-stack bears on that clearing off there to the right, and then I’ll——”
“I understand all about that. You know the river here as well as I do; but there’s something besides snags and bars that we’ve got to look out for this trip.”
While this conversation was going on, Bob seated himself on the elevated bench in the back part of the pilot-house, and looked about him with the greatest interest. Everything was new and strange to him. He had never travelled on a steamboat before, and he felt much more uneasy and anxious now than he did when he was battling with the current two hours before. Guided by the skilful hands of Mr. Black, the Sam Kendall was plowing her way up the river through darkness so intense that one unaccustomed to such things would have supposed that her pilot must be blessed with more than ordinary powers of vision to be able to follow the channel. The tall trees on the bank loomed up darkly against the cloudy sky, throwing a sombre shade almost across the river, and leaving only a bright, silvery streak in the middle, which showed as plainly as the “night-hawk” on the jackstaff. Now and then the river, for a short distance in advance, would be illuminated for a moment by a bright glare from below, as the sooty, perspiring firemen threw open the furnace doors to replenish the roaring red-hot mass under the boilers, and then, their task done, and the doors closed again, the darkness, which seemed blacker than before, would once more shut out everything from view. It was long past midnight. The passengers, who had been awakened by the commotion which arose when it was discovered that the boy pilot had fallen overboard, had all retired to their staterooms again, and there was no one stirring on board the steamer except the firemen, two engineers, the watchman, who had just made his rounds, and our three friends in the pilot-house. Yes!—there was one other wakeful person, and he made his appearance a good deal sooner than he was wanted.
“You say we must look out for something besides bars and snags, this trip,” said George. “What else is there to stand in fear of?”
“Fire!” replied Mr. Black.
George opened his eyes and looked at the pilot.