and roar and general distraction; drays and baggage-vans were
clattering hither and thither in a wild hurry, every now and
then getting blocked and jammed together, and then during ten
seconds one could not see them for the profanity, except vaguely
and dimly; every windlass connected with every forehatch,
from one end of that long array of steamboats to the other,
was keeping up a deafening whiz and whir, lowering freight
into the hold, and the half-naked crews of perspiring negroes
that worked them were roaring such songs as ‘De Las’ Sack!
De Las’ Sack!’–inspired to unimaginable exaltation by the chaos
of turmoil and racket that was driving everybody else mad.
By this time the hurricane and boiler decks of the steamers
would be packed and black with passengers. The ‘last bells’
would begin to clang, all down the line, and then the powwow
seemed to double; in a moment or two the final warning came,–
a simultaneous din of Chinese gongs, with the cry,
‘All dat ain’t goin’, please to git asho’!’–and behold,
the powwow quadrupled! People came swarming ashore,
overturning excited stragglers that were trying to swarm aboard.
One more moment later a long array of stage-planks was being
hauled in, each with its customary latest passenger clinging
to the end of it with teeth, nails, and everything else,
and the customary latest procrastinator making a wild spring
shoreward over his head.
Now a number of the boats slide backward into the stream,
leaving wide gaps in the serried rank of steamers.
Citizens crowd the decks of boats that are not to go, in order
to see the sight. Steamer after steamer straightens herself up,
gathers all her strength, and presently comes swinging by,
under a tremendous head of steam, with flag flying,
black smoke rolling, and her entire crew of firemen and deck-hands
(usually swarthy negroes) massed together on the forecastle,
the best ‘voice’ in the lot towering from the midst
(being mounted on the capstan), waving his hat or a flag,
and all roaring a mighty chorus, while the parting cannons boom
and the multitudinous spectators swing their hats and huzza!
Steamer after steamer falls into line, and the stately procession goes
winging its flight up the river.
In the old times, whenever two fast boats started out on a race,
with a big crowd of people looking on, it was inspiring to hear
the crews sing, especially if the time were night-fall, and the forecastle
lit up with the red glare of the torch-baskets. Racing was royal fun.
The public always had an idea that racing was dangerous; whereas the opposite
was the case–that is, after the laws were passed which restricted
each boat to just so many pounds of steam to the square inch.
No engineer was ever sleepy or careless when his heart was in a race.
He was constantly on the alert, trying gauge-cocks and watching things.
The dangerous place was on slow, plodding boats, where the engineers drowsed
around and allowed chips to get into the ‘doctor’ and shut off the water
supply from the boilers.
In the ‘flush times’ of steamboating, a race between two notoriously
fleet steamers was an event of vast importance. The date was set
for it several weeks in advance, and from that time forward, the whole
Mississippi Valley was in a state of consuming excitement. Politics and
the weather were dropped, and people talked only of the coming race.
As the time approached, the two steamers ‘stripped’ and got ready.
Every encumbrance that added weight, or exposed a resisting surface
to wind or water, was removed, if the boat could possibly do without it.
The ‘spars,’ and sometimes even their supporting derricks, were sent ashore,
and no means left to set the boat afloat in case she got aground.
When the ‘Eclipse’ and the ‘A. L. Shotwell’ ran their great race many
years ago, it was said that pains were taken to scrape the gilding off
the fanciful device which hung between the ‘Eclipse’s’ chimneys, and that for
that one trip the captain left off his kid gloves and had his head shaved.
But I always doubted these things.
If the boat was known to make her best speed when drawing five and a half feet