Up the River; or, Yachting on the Mississippi

by Oliver Optic

I jumped ashore, and the first thing I noticed was that the water was more than a foot higher than it was the night before. It seemed to me that there must be an inundation above us. I found no one stirring on board of the consort, and I went on deck. I knocked at the door of the chief engineer. I told him I intended to get under way in the course of fifteen minutes, and I did not care to leave the Islander behind. He got up at once, and called his starboard fireman.

Without standing on any ceremony, I walked into the captain's state-room, and told him I should be off in fifteen minutes. I found he had given no orders about starting, but I assured him his engineer and fireman were attending to their duty. I bantered him a little, saying I did not leave him behind for fear he would get into trouble. He was good-natured about it, and replied that he should sail in the company of the Sylvania if possible. He admitted that we could outsail him, for he had done his best to keep up with the Sylvania.

"How are your prisoners getting along?" I asked, for I had thought more than once that they might escape while we were hauled up.

"They were all right last night when I turned in. I looked this place over, and there is not more than half an acre on this bank that is not under water," replied the captain. "They could not get away without a boat."

We went out on the deck, and found the two quarter-boats were hanging at the davits. Captain Cayo had charge of the prisoners, and the fore-cabin was locked every night before they went to their berths. But the door must have been opened to let the firemen out. I told the captain that he had better make sure they were safe before we left our moorings, as it would be easier to find them now than it would be after we got half way to New Orleans. He went below, and when he came up he was assured they were on board.

I had avoided Nick Boomsby since the capture of the Islander, for I knew he would beg me to get him out of his present trouble. I could not see my way to do anything of the kind, and therefore I kept out of his way. I remained on board of the steamer until the engineer reported that he had steam enough to go ahead, when I returned to the Sylvania. The fasts were cast off, and by five o'clock we were again stemming the tide of the mighty river. The current was even stronger than it had been the day before. I told the engineer to let the steamer go at her ordinary speed, and the Islander kept very near us.

The river was covered with lumber, shanties swept from their resting-places, and other obstructions; but in the daytime we could easily avoid them. It was half-past seven before any of our passengers came on deck. We were passing a little village that seemed to be struggling for existence, for the high water was crowding hard upon its houses and other buildings. By eleven o'clock we saw several villages, and some very handsome and romantic estates, though they were mostly covered with water.

At noon the city was in plain sight, and soon we had New Orleans on one side and Algiers on the other. The water was almost up to the top of the levees. The shores were crowded with steamboats and sailing-vessels. The former were entirely different from any I had ever seen before, though for some time after I saw them every day. I had a map of New Orleans in a large atlas I kept in my room; and I had decided to make a landing as near as I could to the foot of Canal Street. I had read that this street had a green, with trees extending through it.

I had no difficulty in identifying it when I came to it. At the foot of it was the customhouse, said to be one of the largest public buildings in the United States; and I had no difficulty in believing the statement. In front of it was the broad levee where steamers landed, and such a forest of them I never saw before. They were packed in like sardines, and I could find no opening by which I could get to the shore.

I found that the decks of the steamers were common ground, and most of them could only be reached by passing over others. But near the levee I found a wharf, the lower end of which was under water, at which I concluded we could lie by paying wharfage. I ran the Sylvania in as far as I could and made fast. The Islander came up alongside of her, and was secured to the bow and stern. My father and the Tiffanys concluded to take up their quarters at the St. Charles Hotel, so that they could see more of the city. I called a carriage for them; and then the Shepards decided to follow their example, as they were tired of being on the water for over a week.