We Cut Loose to Shoot the Rapids
Gathering my crew and sundry other loose boatmen lying around, we embarked on the scow for the short but swift journey, there being sixteen souls aboard. We shoved off, the steersman standing on the after-deck, alertly watching the stream. He worked the boat into the passage by means of the sweep, which is a massive oar protruding half of the scow’s length over and pivoted to the stern with a steel pin. This acted as a rudder, but twice as effectively as the ordinary rudder, because of its length, with the additional advantage that being movable up, down and to either side it offers no resistance to the rocks, therefore cannot break. We travelled slowly at first, but gradually gaining impetus, the scow was soon tossing in the boiling waters, travelling with the speed of an express train. It trembled from stem to stern with the shock of the waves. There was an exhilarating sensation with an element of danger in it.
The Steersman Distinguished Himself
The performance of the steersman was admirable. It was difficult to believe that this lithe, active fellow who with powerful arms handled the heavy sweep with such ease, bearing down on the handle to lift the blade clear of the water, jumping from one gunwale to the other with a speed and agility truly astonishing, could be the same slow-moving figure that idly lounged on his oar all the previous way.
We Made the Big Eddy Safely
He seemed to guide the boat as by instinct and with such unerring skill, twisting and turning her among the boulders in the roughest of the water through the narrow channel, that we had hardly time to realize what was happening before the restless figure in the stern resumed his usual listless attitude and we were riding in the Big Eddy. At the cry of “Out oars,” we were quickly rowed ashore by the remainder of the crew.
Pulling the Scow Back by Cable
After dropping passengers, no time was lost in endeavoring to pick up the cable and pull back to the island. Luck was against us. Repeatedly the scow was swept away before the log attached to the end of the rope could be caught, though we knew it was being tossed around on the outer rim of the eddy. After battling the current for an hour the men put me ashore. There were still some matters requiring attention on the island, so I walked back, ferrying across again above the rapids. When I reached the landing place the crew had just managed to secure the cable and were being pulled up.
After loading the rails and car wheels there was nothing to hinder our departure. My work was done.
The next eighty miles to our destination was a succession of rapids, but none bad enough at this time to necessitate unloading. The journey was continued next morning, the previous evening having been spent by all hands in a futile attempt to dislodge the tug “Crester.” It was apparent that nothing but a further rise of water would move her off, so we left a force of men to help Captain Barber out of his difficulty and continued on our way.