"'For God's sake, Mr Doughby!' cried the Miss.
"'Mr Doughby!' squealed the old Yankee, who had quite forgotten his stiffness, 'I demand and insist that you use your influence to prevent the captain from racing.'
"'Pshaw!' said I, 'it's nothing of the sort—ain't going to race—only want to see which ship goes quickest.'
"'That must not be. I protest against it—the safety of our fellow-citizens—our own. If the boiler bursts'——
"'Nonsense!' said I—'safety of our fellow-citizens! Our fellow-citizens are in safety. We don't mean to race, Mister Lambton,' says I; 'we are only trying for a minute which ship can go the fastest.'
"'Mr Doughby!' cried Emily, half beside herself—throwing her arms round me, and trying to drag me towards the engine—'Mr Doughby, if you have the smallest affection—regard I would say—for me, exert your influence, stop this horrid racing!'
"And then she left me and ran to the captain, who was standing beside the engineer.
"The Washington was close behind us—we, as I said before, were running slap into the mouth of the Ohio. There's no finer piece of water in the whole world for a race. The current of the Mississippi drives back that of the Ohio as far as Trinity, so that upon entering the river, the stream is in your favour. The two rivers are together four or five miles wide, and form a sort of circus, enclosed by the shores of Illinois, of Old Kentuck, and her daughter Missouri.[[4]] We were nearest to the Illinois side, which gave us a small advantage over our opponent, who was more on the Kentucky side, end kept coming on faster and faster, with the other five boats, who had also clapped more steam on, a short distance behind him. Our Helen M'Gregor still kept the lead; who the devil could have helped racing? No one, of a certainty, except such a mackerel-blooded Yankee as old Lambton. All was heat and steam, rattle and clatter; the engines thumping, the water splashing, the fire blazing and roaring out of the chimneys, which sent out clouds of smoke and showers of sparks. The enemy was close upon us, Father George's honest face almost in a line with our stern.
"'Helen M'Gregor, hold your own!' cried I. 'Don't spare the wood, boys, lay it on thick, pile it up mountaineous; ten dollars for you when you've beaten him!'
"'Hurra!' cried the hundred passengers; 'hurra! The Washington loses, we are gaining ground.'