Up the River; or, Yachting on the Mississippi

by Oliver Optic

The engineers went to work on the propellers first, and after resorting to various expedients, we got them in place. Steam was up by this time, and we towed the canal boats down to a point near the lake. It required the whole day to restore our anchors, cables, and ballast to their places, rig the spars, and bend on the sails. By six o'clock we were in as good condition as when we entered the Mississippi at the Balize.

We had hardly finished the work before Mr. and Mrs. Brickland came on board. They were delighted to see us, and both of them wept when they realized that Moses and I were alive, well and happy, after our long voyage. I had sent for our passengers, and when they came on board, I introduced my foster father and mother to them; and the old people were very pleasantly received.

They welcomed my father as one who had come from the other world, for Mr. Brickland declared he had been unable to realize that he was still alive, though I had written them to that effect. My father insisted upon resigning the best state-room to them, though I had intended to give up my room, while Washburn and I divided the nights between us in the fore-cabin.

At dark we were under way, and fortunately we had smooth water, so that Mrs. Shepard had no cause to complain of the lake. At Mackinaw we stopped a day to give the party an opportunity to pull in some of the famous trout of that locality. Off Thunder Bay, where I had once weathered a gale in the Lake Bird, there was a considerable stirring up of the waters, and Mrs. Shepard declared that it was worse than the broad Atlantic; but the last was always the worst to her. She was delighted with St. Clair River, when we passed through it the next day. We crossed the Flats by the canal, and stood over to Glinten River. The region looked very natural to us, after our long absence. In the middle of the afternoon, we made a landing at the wharf back of Mr. Brickland's house.

A considerable crowd had gathered on the pier, for we had been seen by some one who reported us in town. Those who were acquainted received a warm welcome. The Shepards insisted upon going to the hotel; and I did not very strongly object, as we had not sufficient accommodations for them in the house. They remained there a week, for the springs seemed greatly to improve the health of the lady.

The Islander was started on her voyage to New York the day after her arrival at Montomercy, for the colonel wanted to use her there soon after his arrival. When his family were ready to depart, I conveyed them to Buffalo in the Sylvania. The Tiffanys wanted to see more of the country, and accompanied the Shepards. Owen had decided to go to England, and Buck Lingley and Hop Tossford felt obliged to go with him, though their year was not quite up. I landed my passengers in the canal basin.

I had not felt so sad since the news came to me of the death of my father as on this occasion. I parted with Margie Tiffany and her father—more especially with Margie—with a regret which I cannot describe. But I was permitted to write to her (and her father) as often as once a month, and I hope before long to see her in England.

Buck and Hop had not been gone more than an hour before they re-appeared with "store clothes" on, and did not look at all like the excellent sailors they were. Their real names were Richard Lawrence and Edward Blakeley; and when they appeared in their new dress I called them by their proper names. They were very sorry to leave the Sylvania, and I expressed the hope that they would come and spend a summer with me in a cruise around the Great Lakes. They promised to do it, if possible.

Once more we bade them good-by. We staid in Buffalo to see the party off for New York; and up to this time that was the last I have seen of them.

After my father joined our party, I noticed that Owen Garningham was never himself again. Though he continued to flutter around Miss Edith, he never seemed to be so well pleased with me as before. Yet I do not think he had anything against me. I could only attribute the change in him to the cancelling of the contract for the use of the Sylvania for a year, though he had said very little about the matter. He parted with me, I think with real sorrow, and hoped he should see me again before even another year had passed by.