 | CHAPTER IV. The trapper's bride, or, Spirit of adventure |  |
4. CHAPTER IV.
It was a bright glowing afternoon.—
The heated atmosphere which rose in
trembling currents from the hot roofs of
the city, and from the stone pavements
from which it was reflected, drove all
who were not impelled by absolute necessity,
to seek the shelter of their dwellings,
or the cool, shaded spots that were
protected from the sun's rays; and here
and there, around the portals of the different
hotels, might be seen groups of
men, mostly travelers, who were lounging
in idle leisure and ease, beneath the
spreading awnings that were stretched
over the sidewalks in front of the inns,
completely screening them from the sun's
rays.
It was just three o'clock on this afternoon,
and the sun had declined from the
zenith, till his rays fell more obliquely,
with less power upon the earth, and the
heat was beginning to lessen, when
Charles was called by the hackman,
whose carriage was waiting at the door,
to take him to the steamer Daniel Boone,
which was all ready to leave for St. Louis.
He had bespoken a passage on board of
her, and was therefore ready to leave.—
On reaching the boat he found (as passengers
that her freight was all taken in, the passengers
all, with the exception of himself,
for whom they were waiting, already
on the decks; and soon as he was fairly
aboard of her, she blew off a puff of
steam and started. At the same time,
and simultaneously with her, a rival
boat, and one which had but just been
placed upon the route, for the purpose of
surpassing and running off the route the
elegantly finished, and indeed, swift but
unfortunate Daniel Boone, started by her
side. This movement was in accordance
with previous arrangements, made between
the different proprietors and separate
masters of the two boats, each feeling
the fullest confidence in the speed of
their boat, and bent upon a trial of their
powers on this trip, which was to be a
race between their boats. The Daniel
Boone was the acknowledged leader on
these waters, and had never yet met her
equal for speed. The Ben Franklin was
a new boat, built expressly for this route,
and also with a view to render her faster
than any other boat afloat on this river.
Her machinery was superior in size and
power to that of her rival. Her hull
was shaped after the most approved
style for sailing, was sharp and quite
long at the bow, with a smooth, clear run,
sitting lightly in the water, with a draught
not over four feet.
On the present occasion both of these
boats were but slightly burdened with
either freight or passengers—each prepared
and resolved to do their utmost.—
The Daniel Boone was a great favorite
with the public, and had attained a fame
not less for her swiftness and speed than
for her comfortable and inviting accommodations.
The captains of the rival
boats had made every preparation in
their power for a hard, tough race.—
Large quantities of the most combustible
fuel were laid in store, all was made
trim and close, everything placed in perfect
order, two new firemen added to
each crew, and whatever they had thought
of as calculated to assist them in driving
their boat to the utmost of her speed
was done. The passengers had, most
of them at least, been informed before
the boats left of the intention of the mas
ters to race, that they might have an opportunity
to leave, if they chose to do so
on this account. But the most of them
entered into the arrangements with youthful
and excited spirits.
As they ran along side by side, the
parties on board the rival boats, standing
by the rails on the sides of the boats that
were separated scarcely a single yard
from each other, interchanged bets with
each other on the result, and the loud
tones and exciting gestures of all parties,
showed that their feelings were wrought
up to a fearful degree of excitement,
which would both blind their judgment
and lead to the commission of rash acts,
in gratifying their desire to push their
respective boats to their tallest speed,
and even beyond their capacity, in order
to obtain the victory.
They made the passage to Louisville,
running along close together at a very
pretty rate, though they did not drive
their boats yet up to their greatest speed.
The test of their sailing was reserved
for the latter part of the journey. They
had overtaken and passed several fine
steamers on their passage to Louisville—
quickly leaving them behind in their rapid
flight; while the cloud of black
smoke that arose from their chimneys in
the air, was left instantly in their rear as
if caught by swift winged winds, and
borne along their track. The pent up
steam that escaped through the steampipes,
with each returning stroke of the
quick moving piston, gave forth a loud
hoarse sound, that reverberated along the
river's green banks, and re-echoed from
the distant hills, filling the air with its
wide spreading mutterings. Each passing
moment, every observed movement
on the part of either boat to accelerate its
speed, increased the excitement already
burning in the breasts of the two parties;
and when they left Louisville, all on
board, even the few who had heretofore
kept comparatively cool and calm, and
were more than half inclined to remonstrate
with the masters of the boats at
the outset, now joined the general shout
that went up from either boat.
“Put her to it now, Captain! Crack
on the steam! Show them what you
can do with your racer when her blood
she feels her old iron heart beat! Ah,
how prettily she leaps along, now!”—
Such were the exclamations and expressions
that came from the lips of the excited
company, as a few miles below the
city of Louisville the real struggle commenced.
The Daniel Boone had obtained a little
the advantage of her rival, which she
continued to hold, leading her about two
hundred yards. When about noon, the
word passed through her company from
one to another, that the Ben Franklin
was gaining upon them; all instantly
rushed for the deck, and running to the
stern of the boat, turned their eyes in the
direction of the Ben Franklin eagerly, to
watch her progress with the closest scrutiny.
It was a beautiful steamer that
bore the honored and patriotic name of
our great Franklin. And now as she flies
over the waters with a soft, graceful, gliding
motion, swifter than the wild swan
as he skims along the surface of the deep
blue, or than the quiet winged sea-gull
that darts like shooting beams of light
from billow to billow, or sweeps on extended
wings along the boiling deep—her
highly finished and brightly painted hulk
gleams and shines in the glowing rays of
the dazzling sun, like the splendors of a
floating palace or like a sparkling jewel of
the wave. With breathless interest did
the company of the Boone stand still and
motionless upon the promenade deck
on the after part of the boat, where they
had run at the first word; and watch
her flight as on she came right after their
own noble and fast-flying courser of the
deep. Her sharp bow cut the water
like a knife around her ornamented and
bright prow, the white foam leaped, and
whirled and seemed to fly past her, as
fly the fleecy clouds across the blue
plains of heaven, when chased by furious
winds: while on, right on she sped, and
left it dancing on the waves that tossed
and leaped in her broad wake. Ah! it
was indeed a grand spectacle to behold
such a gigantic and splendid structure
come bounding along her watery way
after you in all the pride and glory of her
matchless beauty. The houses, the
trees, the land on either side, seeming to
scud away behind her as she dashed on,
and tired not, nor slackened in her course.
On, on she came, with quicker and quicker
stroke.
For a few moments, the most perfect
quiet reigned on board the Daniel Boone,
as all on board stood gazing at her
with admiration. The captain of the
latter boat was standing on the upper
deck close by the wheel-house, from
whence he had watched the quickened
speed of his rival, with an anxious brow
and paling cheek, with his lips closely
compressed, as motionless as a statue,
there he remained, his eyes riveted in
fixed gaze upon the advancing bow of his
terrible rival. Close by his side stood a
group of three or four men, passengers
on his boat, watching with an interest
not less than what he felt, the sailing of
their opponent. Suddenly, while all on
board were yet absorbed in watching the
Franklin, and stirred not, the man nearest
to him touched him lightly on the
shoulder. Although his touch was very
slight, the captain started as though a
thunder-bolt had struck him, and turning
round face to face with the intruder, his
eyes glaring wildly as if he had been
looking upon some frightful scene, he
stared at him without saying a word.
“Captain,” said the Kentuckian to
him in a low but determined tone, “the
Ben Franklin is beating us: do you see
it? look how fast she nears us.” These
few words broke the charm that had held
the captain as it were spell bound and
paralyzed for the last few minutes.—
Springing away from them, he rushed
down the gangway, shouting as he went:
“No, never! she shan't do it, by—.”
Reaching the place where the firemen
were at work, tending the furnaces, he
cried to them—
“Fire up, fire up, boys! Pitch in the
tar, crowd it into her, boys, I tell you the
Ben Franklin is sailing like a runaway
devil, and is fast overhauling us: work
away with a hearty will, boys: cram,
cram her full to the very mouth!”
And away they work again to obey
his orders. Large lumps of tar, pots of
pitch, shoulders of bacon, kegs of lard,
which lay piled up on the lower deck,
and whatever else of the most combustible
are thrust into the blazing furnaces, that
glow and sparkle with a hotter flame.—
The sweat pours in streams down their
faces and necks; their shirts are dripping
with the streaming perspiration. And
now the hot breath from the mouth of
the furnaces, flows out and around them
with scorching power, and forces them
to quit its blazing front. They sink
down exhausted and overcome with the
heat and toil, to gather strength and cool
themselves, while they wipe away the
sweat that trickles down their cheeks.
And now see, again they spring forward;
again they feed the devouring elements;
and quickly the good steamer feels the
spur, and obedient to the call, she leaps
with renewed and fresh strength along
her smooth course. The loud roaring
of the escaping steam, the clank and
noise, and jarring of her machinery, break
upon the ear like pealing thunder, and
drown the voices of the excited crew,
who shout, and scream, and halloo like
mad men, as they feel the quickened impulse
of their boat, and know that she is
flying faster and faster on her way, while
at the same time they behold their rival
falling behind again, and the distance between
them stretching out, little by little,
becoming every passing minute greater.
She had already recovered what she
had lost for the few minutes previous,
and was still increasing the distance between
herself and the Ben Franklin,
when the captain of that boat, who was
a close observer of all that transpired on
board of his rival as well as his own boat,
perceived that he was falling behind
again, and his quick eye caught sight
of the dense, black, smoky, and hot
curling flames that rose above the pipes
of the Daniel Boone, which streamed out
as soon as the captain's orders to throw
in tar and other quick consuming and
more intensely heating fuel had been
obeyed by his men; and quick as thought
he repeated similar orders to his own
firemen, who stood ready with begrimed
and blackened faces, covered with smoke
and dust, and sweat, looking more like
dwellers in the dark abodes of Tartarus
than mortal men, to execute his bidding.
And now, too, his own strong and pow
erful boat feels the scorching flames that
burn within her sides, and, as if maddened
with the pains they bring, she
rushes with furious speed after her flying
adversary; and soon up she comes
again in all her pride and glory. “Hurra!
hurra! hurra!” shouted her exiting
crew; and on, still ever onward they
flew, roaring, and thundering, and foaming,
and spouting fire, like a bursting volcano
when the hot fires hidden within
sides are kindled to a flame. She now,
indeed, presented a magnificent spectacle,
as in hot haste pursuing her flying
enemy she scud away over the smooth
waters of the Ohio, dashing aside the
foam-flakes that curled around her head
and leaving them dancing on the wave
that marked her retreating course with a
broad wake far astern.
Again all the shouts and exultations of
those on board the Daniel Boone were
hushed; and, standing mute and motionless,
they looked after her, and as they
looked, their hearts beat stronger and
stronger, and deeper and deeper grew
the cloud of doubt and dismay that settled
down upon their anxious faces; for
to all it was plainly evident that the Ben
Franklin was nearing them again. The
Kentuckian who had before spoken to
the Captain when they seemed about to
be beaten, and had succeeded in arousing
him to action, again approached him.
“Captain,” cried he in a voice loud
and hoarse with excitement, “we cannot,
we will not let that boat pass us.
No, I tell you she shall not do it, by—”
(and he uttered a round oath in the captain's
ear,) “if fire and water can prevent
her. The name and honor of your
boat is the stake you run for, and if you
are a true man, and no craven, then you
will rather even sacrifice your life than
lose them both at a throw. Your own
fame and reputation goes with that of
your boat: lose that of the latter and the
former sinks with it. And one word
more: should you suffer that boat to
pass us, you are a ruined man—irretrierably
ruined. But come, up and show
them your mettle, your boat is hardly
warm yet; let her be hot, let her sweat
for it. She is the finest boat in the
West, and never has been beaten by
would be a pity, indeed, if this upstart
craft should dowse her colors without a
single blow for it.”
“Mr. Clay,” said the captain, who
was almost insane with excitement, and
driven to desperation by such unlooked
for and amazing speed on the part of the
Ben Franklin, and who was stung to the
quick by the words of Mr. Clay, “it is
no use to contend any longer, that boat
can beat us; the power of the machinery
is nearly a third greater than that of this
boat,, and she works it admirably. We
must give it up.”
“Give it up,” said Clay, in a tone of
derision and scorn, “and is it for this
you have induced us to come on board
your boat: for this you have influenced
us to stake our money on her sailing:
that the moment when you should be
most active, and exert yourself to the
utmost, you, like a coward, turn to us
and have the impudence to say, `we must
give it up: that it is no use to contend
longer.' Now my old fellow I shall say
but a word to you, and that quick too.—
You are in for it and cannot escape by
such trash and nonsense: we too are in
for this race, and the best this boat can
do, shall come out of her now. If you
are afraid and refuse to push her, we will
do it for you; but mind, if you compel
us to that, keep out of the way, don't
interfere, or I'll throw you overboard
quicker than you can wink.”
Charles, who had come to the spot
where this conversation took place, with
the other passengers, would have interfered
in behalf of the captain, but he saw
from the looks and gestures of the others
that it would be in vain. They were
bent on their reckless purpose. As the
captain listened to Mr. Clay it could be
seen that his feelings grew more and
more intense, and as he from time to
time turned his eyes from the speaker
to the rival boat which was fast coming
up to them, mingled feelings of pride in
his boat, and desperation at the chances
against him, were striving in his mind to
overcome his better judgment; they succeeded,
and he yielded to the excitement
around him. Suddenly his countenance
changed; the blood rushed to his face
and head; and shutting his teeth hard,
and grinding them together, he bit his
lips till the blood spouted from them
and ran down his chin; and all the
while nearer and still nearer thundered
the Ben Franklin, and thicker and thicker
rolled up the clouds of smoke from her
great iron chimneys, and still closer came
the sound of the hissing steam, as it
forced its way through the chinks in the
valves. And now the loud and boastful
cheers of the party on board that fast approaching
steamer came with dread distinctness
to the ears of the crew of their
rival, almost driving them to madness.
At this moment Clay again addressed
the captain in a calm, distinct tone, that
amazed him.
“That, captain,” said he, “that boat
(pointing with his upraised hand at the
same time to the Ben Franklin) is close
upon our heels; do you intend to act
like a man, as we requested you to do,
and save your own reputation, and that
of your boat too, while you gratify us, or
shall we act for you? quick! let us have
your answer, there is not a second to be
lost.”
“I will do as you say, gentlemen, if
you persist in it, but let me tell you there
is the greatest danger in endeavoring to
crowd on our boat a further press of
steam than she now has, and I will
not be answerable for the consequences
if we do so.”
“We will take the responsibility upon
ourselves,” shouted the gentlemen around
him; “only do your best to quicken her
speed, and beat that cursed boat. We
must now be close upon Trinity, where
you know we stop to wood up. Quick,
press her a little harder, and we shall be
sure to reach the landing first; and this
will be of great service to us; for it will
enable us to get the start anew of them,
and then let them catch us if they can.—
Come rouse yourself my good man, there
is not a second to be lost about it;” and
the Captain waited to hear no more.
The space between his boat and that
of his rival, had been gradually lessening
for the last half hour; and now at the
moment the Captain left the party on deck,
she was not more than a third of the distance
in advance of her that she had been
at a tremendous rate, still the Franklin
was slowly, but gradually and surely
overtaking her.
“Fan the flames, boys,” cried the Captain,
as he approached the firemen, “don't
spare the wood nor the pitch or tar; but
crowd it, cram it into her, we need it all
now, the very best you can do.”
“And I promise you an extra X apiece
if you will make us beat that infernal
boat,” said Mr. Clay, who had followed
the Captain and now stood at his side.
“This is truly hot work here Captain,”
said Clay, as he drew back a little from
the furnace, which licked up with its
forked tongue of flame, the fat repast
that was offered it. “But we must not
stop or tire, for that Ben, Franklin is a
most troublesome customer.”
“She is indeed,” replied the Captain,
“I would give all I am worth to be safe
out of this scrape; for I assure you Mr.
Clay, that I never saw her equal for speed
on these or any other waters; and I have
seen some fast boats in my time. I
think she could hardly do better if old
Franklin himself should put his real
lightening into her.”
“Just stand here,” said he, moving to
the outer edge of the boat and looking at
her. “Did you ever before since you
were born, see paddle wheels work like
that? I shall almost begin to believe I
never saw a boat go before. But we will
beat her yet, for all that. The Dan Boone
never yet has found her equal, or doffed
her colors to any thing that floats the
wave. And she shan't do it this time;
tough as the struggle is, she can hold out
as long as any other boat, be that other
whatsoever one you please;” and turning
to the firemen, he gave them a strict
charge to exert themselves to the utmost,
and keep every crevice of the furnace
filled up; then muttering an oath at his
rival's sailing, he went again on deck.
The firemen, who felt as if they had
the whole, sole responsibility of the boat
on their single and particular backs, and
were determined to discharge it in the
best manner, sprang anew to their hot
work. And now the flames crackled and
flared, and roared, with redoubled fury
under their increased exertions, and fas
ter and faster flew the piston rods at their
task, and swifter rolled the great iron shaft
around on its axis. Again the Ben Franklin
is gaining on her rival. The struggle
was fearful. The Boone trembled beneath
the mighty pressure of condensed
steam that was bound in her iron prison,
while the planks and timbers groaned
and cracked with the strain which they
endured. This could last but little longer;
it was too much for the steam chest vessel
to hold out long against such multiplied,
and enormous pressure. The safety
valves had already opened, and were
giving vent to the overcharged steam
pipes, while she was running at the top
of her speed. She could bear no more;
her utmost capacity was put to the stretch.
At this point of time, old Trinity hove in
sight, and like a swift arrow from the
hunter's bow, she sped onward to reach
that landing. Houses, trees, and farms
that lay along the river's banks, seemed
to fly past, and glimmered and trembled
before the eyes of the passengers, who
looked towards the shore, and who now
cheered and shouted as they found themselves
approaching the landing place
ahead of their rival. And here indeed
was the most favorable and beautiful
stretch in the whole length of the river
for a race; the waters of the Ohio, as
they approach the point where the river
forms a junction with the great Mississippi
grow deeper, and the bed of the river
widens, and in a broad deep sheet empties
itself into the great father of rivers.
They reached Trinity more than a hundred
rods in advance of the Ben Franklin,
and all was exultation and joy, and
excited hope on that fated steamer. The
Captain, standing on the upper deck,
shouted to the passengers on shore, to be
ready to jump aboard, as the boat came
up to the landing; and snatching hastily
a scanty supply of fuel, and refusing to
take freight, he hurried her departure.
The few passengers at this landing, bound
for St. Louis, had watched the Dan Boone
as she came up to the wharf, and witnessed
the tremendous speed with which
she flew over the waters; for she absolutely
seemed to fly, as fly the scudding
clouds, that speed their flight across the
sky, chased by the driving whirlwinds.
BLOWING UP OF THE DAN BOONE.—See page 31.
the excited company on board of her
hesitated; they trembled to think of the
consequences they feared would result
from such a tremendous pressure of
steam upon her, and all but one refused
to embark on her. He was a Kentuckian,
and entered at once, as soon as she came
in sight, into the spirit of the occasion, and
shouted and hallooed with all his might,
as she came along side of the landing.
Two or three minutes only were lost in
effecting this landing. Whilst the boat
stood still, she trembled with the swelling
heat and imprisoned steam that was confined
within her pipes. The Captain
ordered the engineer to keep on all her
head of steam, and not for a minute even
blow off to ease her of the tremendous
pressure that made her shake and tremble.
The steam from the safety valves
hissed and screeched in vain warnings—
the heat rose from off the deck in heavy
trembling currents; the fire crackled and
blazed and burned with increasing fury;
and the dense clouds of black smoke continued
to roll up in the sky, from the tops
of her tall chimneys.
“Hurra, hurra, hurra,” shouted the
company of the boat, and the men on
shore repeated their cheers as the Captain
gave the word to leave, which he did
just as the Ben Franklin passed up by her
stern. The engineer loosed his reins, and
quick as thought, the piston rods leaped
to their work; the wheels made one or
two revolutions swift as lightning, then
suddenly a noise like the discharge of a
thousand cannon on the battle field, when
the covered battery of huge extent is unmasked,
and opens its thundering fire
upon the advancing enemy. The solid
ground shook and trembled at the shock,
as it broke in deafening thunders upon
the ear, and rent the air with its terrific
explosion; thick clouds of smoke and vapor,
and the hissing of suddenly quenched
fires, at the same time wrapped the Dan
Boone. It was an awful—a terrible moment!
for instantly succeeding this terrible
explosion, all sounds are hushed; the
stillness of death reigns on all around;
men scarce dare to draw their breath; a
feeling of despair—a shock of some sudden
and terrible calamity possessed them
and held them mute and motionless;
while all is thus still, a voice is heard
from the midst of the crowd on shore,
how fearfully distinct it sounds, where a
moment ago, it could not have been heard,
in the haste and wild confusion and din
that raged there; it was the voice of one
of the passengers who had refused to go
of board of that boat.
“God save us!” said he, “she has
burst her boiler.”
As he spoke, a shudder of awe and
pity—a mysterious feeling—an indescribable
emotion passed through the crowd.
Then arose upon the ear, the piercing
shrieks and agonizing cries of distress and
suffering, mingled with the dying groans
and wailings of wounded and dying men,
that had been hurried from the Daniel
Boone, as if thrown from the mouth of
a cannon, or from the burning top of a
volcano, all around the spot where she
blew up. Most of the party on board
the ill fated steamer, perished instantaneously
at the moment the boiler burst.
Some were thrown covered with scalding
steam into the waters of the Ohio, while
others were struck by the flying masses
of the broken boiler, losing an arm or a
leg, ere they fell multilated and bleeding
into the surging river, where they mingled
with the scalded, screeching and shrieking
with pain, the wounded shouting for
help and assistance, and all struggling to
keep themselves from being engulfed in
the waves, and sinking to a watery grave.
Oh! it was an awful spectacle, to witness
so many wretched and suffering beings,
struggling in the last agony of death,
writhing and quivering with mortal pain,
their groans falling upon the ear like a
death knell, to see them mutilated and
bleeding, and hear them in faint, dying
tones, imploring and beseeching to be
saved from a drowning death, as they are
sinking beneath the waves, ere assistance
can possibly reach them. But the men
who stood upon the shore, and the party
on board the Franklin, remained not idle
spectators of such a scene of suffering.
Tis true, they were so amazed and
shocked at first, from the awful explosion,
they remained as if rooted to the spot
where they were standing for some minutes;
but immediately upon recovering
and sudden a calamity had thrown
them into, they hastened to shove off in
boats from the shore, and rescue the survivors
who maintained themselves by
swimming above the waves. They succeeded
in saving more than thirty of the
sufferers, who had all received more or
less injury from the accident,—the fatal
accident that had in the twinkling of an
eye, as it were, wrecked their proud vessel
and involved them in its ruin, covering
them with pain and anguish, and
overwhelming with despair and agony of
grief and suffering. Some in the extremity
of their sufferings, scalded and mutilated
by many and terrible wounds, cried
out to those around them, asking that
they would kill them at once, and thus
put an end to pains more dreadful than
death itself. A few who were standing
near the stern of the boat at the time her
boiler burst, escaped unharmed amidst
the general ruin and confusion, and flinging
themselves into the river, swam to
the shore, or else were picked up by the
boats that came out to their assistance.
Amongst this number was Charles: stunned
and losing himself for an instant, he
clung to the railings for support; his two
faithful hounds came close to his side, as
if knowing the danger that threatened
him, and resolved to save him. Quickly
recovering his presence of mind, he saw
at a glance the full extent of the overwhelming
ruin that had come upon them,
and without waiting a moment, he sprung
from the sinking wreck into the water,
and swimming directly to one of his suffering
and wounded companions, he saved
him from a watery grave, which yawned
to receive him, his two dogs following
closely after him. They reached the
shore with him; all that could be done to
recover and save the lives of the unfortunate
passengers, was done. The Ben
Franklin remained here all day, using
every effort in their power, for their unfortunate
companions, and assisted in
saving all that could be saved from destruction
out of the wreck. The boat
sunk immediately, filling with water instantly
upon the bursting of the boiler,
which had shattered and shivered her
hull almost to splinters; but as the river
was quite shallow at the spot where she
sunk, this circumstance enabled them
easily to fish up much of the freight that
was in her at the time. Charles recovered
his trunk and the most of his baggage,
though it was drenched through and
through with water. Placing his stock
on board the Ben Franklin, he left in her
the next morning for St. Louis.
| CHAPTER IV. The trapper's bride, or, Spirit of adventure | |