CHAPTER ELEVEN.

  A BOAT-RACE UPON THE MISSISSIPPI.

  It had now become quite dark. There was no moon in the sky--not a speckof a star. A clear heaven over the lower region of the Mississippi, atnight, is rather rare than otherwise. The film of the swamp too oftenobscures it.

  There was light enough for the race. The yellow water shone clear. Itwas easily distinguishable from the land. The track was a wide one; andthe pilots of both boats--old hands--knew every "shute" and sand-bar ofthe river.

  The rival steamers were quite visible to one another. No lamps neededto be hung out, although the gaff over the bow of each boat carried itscoloured signal. The cabin windows of both were full of light, and theblaze of the bacon fires flung a vermilion glare far over the water.

  Upon each boat the spectators could be seen from the other in theirstate-room windows, or leaning against the guards, in attitudes thatbetokened their interest.

  By the time the Belle had fairly got up steam, the Magnolia was a fullhalf-mile in advance of her. This distance, though nothing where thereis a large difference of speed, is not so easily overtaken where theswiftness of the boats approximates to anything like an equality. Itwas a long while, therefore, before the people of the Belle could becertain as to whether she was gaining upon her rival; for it is somewhatdifficult to tell this when one vessel is running in the wake of theother. Questions were put by passengers to the various officials and toone another, and "guesses" were continually being made on thisinteresting point.

  At length an assurance was derived from the Captain, that severalhundred yards had been already taken up. This produced general joy,though not _universal_; for there were some "unpatriotic" individuals onboard the Belle who had risked their dollars on the Magnolia.

  In another hour, however, it was clear to all that our boat was fastgaining upon the Magnolia, as she was now within less than a quarter ofa mile of her. A quarter of a mile on smooth water appears but a shortdistance, and the people of the two boats could hold converse at will.The opportunity was not neglected by those of the Belle to pay back theboasts of the Magnolians. Shouts of banter reached their ears, andtheir former taunts were now returned with interest.

  "Have you any message for Saint Louis? We're going up there, and willbe happy to carry it for you," shouted one from the Belle.

  "Hurraw for the bully-boat Belle!" vociferated another.

  "How are you off for bacon hams?" asked a third. "We can lend you afew, if you're out."

  "Where shall we say we left you?" inquired a fourth. "In Shirt-tailBend?" And loud peals of laughter followed this joking allusion to apoint in the river well-known to the boatmen.

  It had now approached the hour of midnight, and not a soul on eitherboat had thought of retiring to rest. The interest in the raceprecluded the idea of sleep, and both men and women stood outside thecabins, or glided out and in at short intervals to note the progress.The excitement had led to drinking, and I noticed that several of thepassengers were already half intoxicated. The officers, too, led on bythose, were indulging too freely, and even the Captain showed symptomsof a similar condition. No one thought of censure--prudence had fledfrom the boat.

  It is near midnight, and amidst the growling and grinding of themachinery, the boats are moving on! There is deep darkness upon thewater, but this is no impediment. The red fires glow; the blaze standshigh above the tall funnels; steam booms from the iron pipes; the hugepaddles lash the water into foam; the timbers creak and tremble underthe fierce pressure, and the boats move on!

  It is near midnight. A space of two hundred yards alone separates thesteamers--the Belle is bounding upon the waves of the Magnolia. In lessthan ten minutes her head will overlap the stern of her rival. In lessthan twenty, and the cheer of victory rising from her deck will pealfrom shore to shore!

  I was standing by the Captain of our boat, regarding him not without afeeling of solicitude. I regretted to see him pass so often to the"bar." He was drinking deeply.

  He had returned to his station by the wheel-house, and was gazing ahead.Some straggling lights were gleaming on the right bank of the river, amile farther up. The sight of these caused him to start, and utter awild exclamation:--

  "By Heavens! it is _Bringiers_!"

  "Ye-e-s," drawled the pilot at his elbow. "We've reached it in quicktime, I reckon."

  "Great God! I must lose the race!"

  "How?" said the other, not comprehending him; "what has that got to dowith it?"

  "I must land there. I must--I must--the lady who gave us the hams--Imust land her!"

  "Oh! _that_," replied the phlegmatic pilot; "a darned pity it is," headded; "but if you must, you must. Darn the luck! We'd a-beat theminto shucks in another quarter, I reckon. Darn the luck!"

  "We must give it up," said the Captain. "Turn her head in."

  Saying this, he hurried below; and, observing his excited manner, Ifollowed him.

  A group of ladies stood upon the guard-way where the Captain descendedover the wheel-house. The Creole was among them.

  "Mademoiselle," said the Captain, addressing himself to this lady, "wemust lose the race after all."

  "Why?" asked she in surprise; "are there not enough? Antoine! have youdelivered them all?"

  "No, Mademoiselle," replied the Captain, "it is not that, thanks to yourgenerosity. You see those lights?"

  "Yes--well?"

  "That is _Bringiers_."

  "Oh! it is, is it?"

  "Yes;--and of course you must be landed there."

  "And that would lose you the race?"

  "Certainly."

  "Then, of course, I must _not_ be landed there. What care I for a day?I am not so old but that I can spare one. Ha! ha! ha! You shall notlose your race, and the reputation of your fine boat, on my account.Think not of landing, cher Capitaine! Take me on to Baton Rouge. I canget back in the morning!"

  A cheer rose from the auditory; and the Captain, rushing back to thepilot, countermanded his late order.

  The Belle again stands in the wake of the Magnolia, and again scarce twohundred yards of the river lie between. The rumbling of theirmachinery--the booming of their steam--the plashing of their paddles--the creaking of their planks--the shouts of those on board, mingle inrude concert.

  Up forges the Belle--up--up--gaining in spite of the throes of herantagonist. Up, nearer still--nearer, till her head laps upon thestern, then the wheel-house, then the foredeck of the Magnolia! Now thelights of both cross each other--their fires glow together upon thewater--they are head and head!

  Another foot is gained--the Captain waves his hat--and the cheer oftriumph peals forth!

  That cheer was never finished. Its first notes had scarce broke uponthe midnight air, when it was interrupted by an explosion like thebursting of some vast magazine--an explosion that shook the air, theearth, and the water! Timbers crashed and flew upward--men shouted astheir bodies were projected to the heavens--smoke and vapour filled theair--and one wild cry of agony arose upon the night!