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Had I space and time to give a faithful account of this journey it would be chiefly a tribute to Xavier's skill, for they who have not put themselves at the mercy of the Mississippi in a small craft can have no idea of the dangers of such a voyage.Infinite experience, a keen eye, a steady hand, and a nerve of iron are required.Now, when the current swirled almost to a rapid, we grazed a rock by the width of a ripple; and again, despite the effort of Xavier and the crew, we would tear the limbs from a huge tree, which, had we hit it fair, would have ripped us from bow to stern.Once, indeed, we were fast on a sand-bar, whence (as Nick said) Xavier fairly cursed us off.We took care to moor at night, where we could be seen as little as possible from the river, and divided the watches lest we should be surprised by Indians.And, as we went southward, our hands and faces became blotched all over by the bites of mosquitoes and flies, and we smothered ourselves under blankets to get rid of them.At times we fished, and one evening, after we had passed the expanse of water at the mouth of the Ohio, Nick pulled a hideous thing from the inscrutable yellow depths,--a slimy, scaleless catfish.He came up like a log, and must have weighed seventy pounds.Xavier and his men and myself made two good meals of him, but Nick would not touch the meat.
The great river teemed with life.There were flocks of herons and cranes and water pelicans, and I know not what other birds, and as we slipped under the banks we often heard the paroquets chattering in the forests.And once, as we drifted into an inlet at sunset, we caught sight of the shaggy head of a bear above the brown water, and leaping down into the cabin I primed the rifle that stood there and shot him.It took the seven of us to drag him on board, and then I cleaned and skinned him as Tom had taught me, and showed Jean how to put the caul fat and liver in rows on a skewer and wrap it in the bear's handkerchief and roast it before the fire.Nick found no difficulty in eating this--it was a dish fit for any gourmand.
We passed the great, red Chickasaw Bluff, which sits facing westward looking over the limitless Louisiana forests, where new and wondrous vines and flowers grew, and came to the beautiful Walnut Hills crowned by a Spanish fort.
We did not stop there to exchange courtesies, but pressed on to the Grand Gulf, the grave of many a keel boat before and since.This was by far the most dangerous place on the Mississippi, and Xavier was never weary of recounting many perilous escapes there, or telling how such and such a priceless cargo had sunk in the mud by reason of the lack of skill of particular boatmen he knew of.And indeed, the Canadian's face assumed a graver mien after the Walnut Hills were behind us.
``You laugh, Michie,'' he said to Nick, a little resentfully.``I who speak to you say that there is four foot on each side of ze bateau.Too much tafia, a little too much excite--'' and he made a gesture with his hand expressive of total destruction; ``ze tornado, I would sooner have him--''
Bah!'' said Nick, stroking Xavier's black beard, ``give me the tiller.I will see you through safely, and we will not spare the tafia either.'' And he began to sing a song of Xavier's own:--`` `Marianson, dame jolie, Ou est alle votre mari?' ''
``Ah, toujours les dames!'' said Xavier.``But I tell you, Michie, le diable,--he is at ze bottom of ze Grand Gulf and his mouth open--so.'' And he suited the action to the word.
At night we tied up under the shore within earshot of the mutter of the place, and twice that night I awoke with clinched hands from a dream of being spun fiercely against the rock of which Xavier had told, and sucked into the devil's mouth under the water.Dawn came as I was fighting the mosquitoes,--a still, sultry dawn with thunder muttering in the distance.
We breakfasted in silence, and with the crew standing ready at the oars and Xavier scanning the wide expanse of waters ahead, seeking for that unmarked point whence to embark on this perilous journey, we floated down the stream.The prospect was sufficiently disquieting on that murky day.Below us, on the one hand, a rocky bluff reached out into the river, and on the far side was a timber-clad point round which the Mississippi doubled and flowed back on itself.It needed no trained eye to guess at the perils of the place.On the one side the mighty current charged against the bluff and, furious at the obstacle, lashed itself into a hundred sucks and whirls, their course marked by the flotsam plundered from the forests above.Woe betide the boat that got into this devil's caldron! And on the other side, near the timbered point, ran a counter current marked by forest wreckage flowing up-stream.
To venture too far on this side was to be grounded or at least to be sent back to embark once more on the trial.