"I think we can hurry her a little along here," I replied, ringing the speed-bell.
"By the mark twain," said Buck.
"He threw the lead into a hole that time," added the pilot.
"And a half-one," continued Buck.
"You will hold that all the way till you get to the knoll," said Mr. Bell. "We are going at a rattling speed."
"We shall be all right as long as we have eight feet. Our coal bunkers are pretty well emptied, and I don't know but we could go with seven and a half. It is plain sailing; but we must feel along when it gets down to eight and a half," I replied.
The two men who had been taken from the water came to the forecastle at this moment. They were covered with yellow mud, and of course they were wet to the skin. But it was a hot day, and the sun was shining brightly. When I asked them, they told me they had come from one of the steamers that had stopped at the levee to render assistance.
"Eight feet and a half," shouted Buck.
I rang the speed bell, which soon reduced our rate one-half. Buck still reported eight and a half. We were within a hundred yards of the mansion-houses, of which I could see four, the lower parts of which were under water. We could see the inmates in the second stories. But the negro cabins were upset and many of them were floating about. It was evident enough that they had been built on lower ground than the residences of the planters. The knoll was covered with shade-trees and shrubs, and the estates were as beautiful as anything I ever looked upon—that is, what I could see of them above the water.
"Eight feet!" shouted the leadsman, with energy.