CHAPTER EIGHT.
THE "COAST" OF THE MISSISSIPPI.
As soon as we had fairly started, I ascended to the "hurricane-deck," inorder to obtain a better view of the scenery through which we werepassing. In this place I was alone; for the silent pilot, boxed up inhis little tower of glass, could hardly be called a companion.
I make the following observations:
The breadth of the Mississippi river has been much exaggerated. It ishere about half a mile wide. Sometimes more, occasionally less. (Thisaverage width it preserves for more than a thousand miles from itsmouth.) Its waters run at the rate of three or four miles to the hour,and are of a yellowish cast, with a slight tincture of "red." Theyellow colour it derives from the Missouri, while the deeper tint isobtained by the influx of the "Red."
Driftwood floats thickly upon its surface; here in single logs, there inraft-like clusters. To run a boat against one of these is attended withdanger, and the pilot avoids them. Sometimes one swimming below thesurface escapes his eye; and then a heavy bumping against the bowsshakes the boat, and startles the equanimity of the less experiencedpassengers. The "snag" is most dreaded. That is a dead tree with heavyroots still adhering. These, from their weight, have settled upon thebottom, and the _debris_ gathering around holds them firmly imbedded.The lighter top, riven of its branches, rises towards the surface; butthe pressure of the current prevents it from attaining to theperpendicular, and it is held in a slanting position. When its toprises above the water, the danger is but trifling--unless in a very darknight--it is when the top is hidden a foot or two below the surface thatthe snag is feared. Then a boat running upon it up-stream, is lost to acertainty. The roots firmly imbedded in the bottom mud, prevent thepile from yielding; and the top, usually a spiky one, penetrates the bowtimbers of the boat, sinking her almost instantly. A boat properly"snagged" will go down in a few minutes.
The "sawyer" is a log fixed in the water similarly to the snag, but keptbobbing up and down by the current, thus suggesting the idea of a sawyerengaged at his work--hence the name. A boat getting aground upon asunken log _crosswise_, is sometimes snagged upon its branches, andsometimes broken into two pieces by the pressure of her own weight.
Among the drift, I notice odd matters that interest me. Stalks ofsugar-cane that have been crushed in the press-mill (a hundred milesfarther up I should not meet these), leaves and stems of the maizeplant, corn-cobs, pieces of broken gourd-shell, tufts of raw cotton,split fence-rails, now and then the carcase of some animal, with abuzzard or black vulture (_Cathartes aura_ and _atratus_) perched uponit, or hovering above.
I am within the geographical range of the alligator but here the greatSaurian is seldom seen. He prefers the more sluggish _bayous_, or thestreams whose shores are still wild. In the rapid current of theMississippi, and along its well-cultivated banks, he is but rarelyobserved by the passing traveller.
Alternately the boat approaches both shores of the river ("coasts" theyare called). The land is an alluvion of no very ancient formation. Itis a mere strip of _terra firma_, varying in breadth from a few hundredyards to several miles, and gradually declining from the banks, so thatthe river is actually running along the top of a ridge! Beyond thisstrip commences the "Swamp," a tract that is annually inundated, andconsists of a series of lagoons and marshes covered with coarse grassand reeds. This extends in some places for a score of miles, or evenfarther--a complete wilderness of morass. Some portions of this--wherethe inundation is only annual--are covered with dark and almostimpenetrable forests. Between the cultivated strip on the immediatebank of the river, and the "Swamp" in the rear, runs a belt of thisforest, which forms a kind of background to the picture, answering tothe mountain-ranges in other lands. It is a high, dark forest,principally composed of cypress-trees (_Cupressus disticka_). But thereare other kinds peculiar to this soil, such as the sweet-gum(_Liquidambar styraciflua_), the live-oak (_Quercus vivens_), the tupelo(_Nyssa aquatica_), the water-locust (_Gleditschia aquatica_), thecotton-wood (_Populus angulata_), with _carya, celtis_, and variousspecies of _acer, cornus, juglans, magnolia_, and oaks. Here anunderwood of palmettoes (_Sabal_ palms), _smilax, llianes_, and variousspecies of _vitis_; there thick brakes of cane (_Arundo gigantea_), growamong the trees; while from their branches is suspended in long festoonsthat singular parasite, the "Spanish moss" (_Tillandsia usneoides_),imparting a sombre character to the forest.
Between this dank forest and the river-banks lie the cultivated fields.The river current is often several feet above their level; but they areprotected by the "Levee," an artificial embankment which has been formedon both sides of the river, to a distance of several hundred miles fromits mouth.
In these fields I observe the culture of the sugar-cane, of therice-plant, of tobacco and cotton, of indigo and maize. I see the"gangs" of black slaves at their work, in their cotton dresses ofstriped and gaudy colours, in which sky-blue predominates. I see hugewaggons drawn by mules or oxen returning from the cane-fields, or slowlytoiling along the banks. I see the light-bodied Creole, in "cottonade"jacket and trousers of bright blue, mounted upon his small Spanishhorse, and galloping along the Levee road. I see the grand mansion ofthe planter, with its orange-groves and gardens, its green Venetians,cool verandahs, and pretty palings. I see the huge sugar-house, ortobacco-shed, or cotton "pickery;" and there, too, are the neat"cabins," clustering together or running in a row, like thebathing-boxes at a fashionable watering-place.
Now we are passing a plantation where they are making merry--a _fetechampetre_. Many horses stand under the trees, "hitched" in the shadewith saddles on, not a few of which are "ladies' saddles." In theverandah, the lawn, and through the orange shrubbery, may be seen movingabout gentlemen and ladies richly attired. Music is heard, and there isdancing in the open air. One cannot help envying these happy Creolesthe enjoyment of their Arcadian life.
Scenes varied and lovely were passing panorama-like before my eyes.Lost in admiration of them, I had for the moment forgotten _EugenieBesancon_.