“And so I unwisely concluded to continue at my old business, and went into it on a larger scale than ever before. I built the Emilie La Barge, a larger and finer boat even than the Octavia, costing me $60,000. The hull was built on the Ohio and brought to St. Louis for completion. This was in the winter of 1868–69.”
Government business up the river was still very good, but competition for it was getting closer, as other lines of steamboat trade declined, and Captain La Barge failed to secure a contract. He went to work, however, for the successful bidder and did a paying business during the summer. He returned to St. Louis in September and made two trips to New Orleans, when the boat was laid up until the spring of 1870. He then entered into a contract with the government to transport Colonel Gilbert and 480 men with over 400 tons of freight to Fort Buford. It was a low-water season and the trip was slow and tedious; but the boat got through all right. After his return Captain La Barge ran in the lower river the balance of the season. But the profits were small, for the railroads had thoroughly gotten the upper hand. There was no longer any money in the lower river trade.
AN OPEN BAR.
“I recall a little incident that amused me somewhat while on this summer’s trip,” said the Captain. “Colonel Gilbert was a strict disciplinarian, yet withal much liked by his men. When he came on board he told me that I need not close the bar on the boat unless I chose to do so. If any of his men wanted a drink and had money to pay for it, let them have it. ‘That’s something very unusual,’ said I, for generally when troops were in transport I had to close the bar. ‘All right, I’ll take my chances,’ he replied. ‘If any of them get drunk, they will not get drunk again.’ I noted throughout the trip that there was not a single drunken soldier, although the bar was open all the time.
COLONEL AND LIEUTENANT.
“It was customary whenever we stopped to have a guard posted near the gangway, and this was done on our arrival at Fort Randall. A guard from the post was also ordered down, presumably to prevent the post soldiers from getting on the boat. The young lieutenant in charge made his way on board past Colonel Gilbert’s guard, on telling who he was. He inquired of me for Colonel Gilbert, and I took him up and introduced him. After a few minutes’ conversation he noticed the open bar on the boat and some soldiers there, drinking. He said to Colonel Gilbert that he would like to have the bar closed, as such were his orders. ‘Why don’t you have it closed, then?’ said Colonel Gilbert bluntly. ‘Well, I don’t like to order it when you are aboard with troops.’ ‘It suits me to have it open,’ returned the Colonel. The lieutenant explained that they were afraid that some of the post soldiers would get aboard and get drunk. ‘You have a guard out there, haven’t you?’ asked the Colonel. ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘Well, if they get past your guard they won’t mine,’ and he turned and walked off, leaving the lieutenant quite crestfallen at the encounter.
“It was while we were here at Randall that I was subpœnaed by a United States marshal to appear at the trial of the murderer of Captain Spear. I had the greatest difficulty in getting permission to continue my trip, although the trial was not to come off for several months. I had to give $20,000 bonds for my appearance.
DISASTROUS CONTRACT.
“After my return to St. Louis that fall I made several Mississippi River trips and laid the boat up late in the season. In the summer of 1871 I ran in what is called the Omaha line all the season. In the fall I sold the boat for $30,000. She had paid me just about what she cost. I remained at home all the winter of 1871–72, when I again got tired of doing nothing; and being bred to the steamboat business, and not daring to turn my hand to anything else, commenced building another boat. She was completed by the middle of the summer, and named De Smet, in honor of the distinguished Jesuit missionary. I at once took a contract to transport freight from St. Louis to Shreveport, La., for the construction of the Southern Pacific railroad. This enterprise was disastrous in the extreme. I found the Red River without water enough at the mouth for me to enter, all of it going down the Bayou Atchafalaya. I did not get away from there until January, having had to import one hundred mules at my own expense to get the freight through. The enterprise was so disastrous that I was released from the contract. I secured fifteen hundred bales of cotton for my return trip to St. Louis, but the winter was severe and I was stopped by ice at Helena, Ark., and had to send the freight on by rail. Take it all in all, the season’s venture was a most ruinous one.”
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.