there is in the channel,--or a few inches more, as was often the casein the old times,--one must be painfully circumspect in his piloting.
We used to have to 'sound' a number of particularly bad places almost everytrip when the river was at a very low stage.
Sounding is done in this way. The boat ties up at the shore, just abovethe shoal crossing; the pilot not on watch takes his 'cub' or steersmanand a picked crew of men (sometimes an officer also), and goes outin the yawl--provided the boat has not that rare and sumptuous luxury,a regularly-devised 'sounding-boat'--and proceeds to hunt for the best water,the pilot on duty watching his movements through a spy-glass, meantime,and in some instances assisting by signals of the boat's whistle,signifying 'try higher up' or 'try lower down;' for the surface ofthe water, like an oil-painting, is more expressive and intelligiblewhen inspected from a little distance than very close at hand.
The whistle signals are seldom necessary, however; never, perhaps, except whenthe wind confuses the significant ripples upon the water's surface.
When the yawl has reached the shoal place, the speed is slackened,the pilot begins to sound the depth with a pole ten or twelve feet long,and the steersman at the tiller obeys the order to 'hold her upto starboard;' or, 'let her fall off to larboard;'
term 'larboard' is never used at seam now, to signify the left hand;but was always used on the river in my time]> or 'steady--steadyas you go.'
When the measurements indicate that the yawl is approachingthe shoalest part of the reef, the command is given to 'ease all!'
Then the men stop rowing and the yawl drifts with the current.
The next order is, 'Stand by with the buoy!' The momentthe shallowest point is reached, the pilot delivers the order,'Let go the buoy!' and over she goes. If the pilot isnot satisfied, he sounds the place again; if he finds better waterhigher up or lower down, he removes the buoy to that place.
Being finally satisfied, he gives the order, and all the menstand their oars straight up in the air, in line; a blast fromthe boat's whistle indicates that the signal has been seen;then the men 'give way' on their oars and lay the yawlalongside the buoy; the steamer comes creeping carefully down,is pointed straight at the buoy, husbands her power forthe coming struggle, and presently, at the critical moment,turns on all her steam and goes grinding and wallowing overthe buoy and the sand, and gains the deep water beyond.
Or maybe she doesn't; maybe she 'strikes and swings.'
Then she has to while away several hours (or days)sparring herself off.
Sometimes a buoy is not laid at all, but the yawl goes ahead,hunting the best water, and the steamer follows along in its wake.
Often there is a deal of fun and excitement about sounding,especially if it is a glorious summer day, or a blustering night.
But in winter the cold and the peril take most of the fun out of it.
A buoy is nothing but a board four or five feet long,with one end turned up; it is a reversed school-house bench,with one of the supports left and the other removed.
It is anchored on the shoalest part of the reef by arope with a heavy stone made fast to the end of it.
But for the resistance of the turned-up end of the reversed bench,the current would pull the buoy under water. At night, a paperlantern with a candle in it is fastened on top of the buoy,and this can be seen a mile or more, a little glimmering spark inthe waste of blackness.
Nothing delights a cub so much as an opportunity to go out sounding.
There is such an air of adventure about it; often there is danger;it is so gaudy and man-of-war-like to sit up in the stern-sheets and steera swift yawl; there is something fine about the exultant spring of the boatwhen an experienced old sailor crew throw their souls into the oars;it is lovely to see the white foam stream away from the bows; there ismusic in the rush of the water; it is deliciously exhilarating, in summer,to go speeding over the breezy expanses of the river when the worldof wavelets is dancing in the sun. It is such grandeur, too, to the cub,to get a chance to give an order; for often the pilot will simply say,'Let her go about!' and leave the rest to the cub, who instantly cries,in his sternest tone of command, 'Ease starboard! Strong on the larboard!
Starboard give way! With a will, men!' The cub enjoys soundingfor the further reason that the eyes of the passengers are watching allthe yawl's movements with absorbing interest if the time be daylight;and if it be night he knows that those same wondering eyes are fastenedupon the yawl's lantern as it glides out into the gloom and dims awayin the remote distance.
One trip a pretty girl of sixteen spent her time in our pilot-housewith her uncle and aunt, every day and all day long. I fell in lovewith her. So did Mr. Thornburg's cub, Tom G----. Tom and I had beenbosom friends until this time; but now a coolness began to arise.
I told the girl a good many of my river adventures, and mademyself out a good deal of a hero; Tom tried to make himself appearto be a hero, too, and succeeded to some extent, but then he alwayshad a way of embroidering. However, virtue is its own reward,so I was a barely perceptible trifle ahead in the contest.
About this time something happened which promised handsomely for me:
the pilots decided to sound the crossing at the head of 21.
This would occur about nine or ten o'clock at night, when thepassengers would be still up; it would be Mr. Thornburg's watch,therefore my chief would have to do the sounding. We had a perfectlove of a sounding-boat--long, trim, graceful, and as fleet asa greyhound; her thwarts were cushioned; she carried twelve oarsmen;one of the mates was always sent in her to transmit orders to her crew,for ours was a steamer where no end of 'style' was put on.
We tied up at the shore above 21, and got ready. It was a foul night,and the river was so wide, there, that a landsman's uneducatedeyes could discern no opposite shore through such a gloom.
The passengers were alert and interested; everything was satisfactory.
As I hurried through the engine-room, picturesquely gotten upin storm toggery, I met Tom, and could not forbear deliveringmyself of a mean speech--'Ain't you glad YOU don't have to go out sounding?'
Tom was passing on, but he quickly turned, and said--'Now just for that, you can go and get the sounding-pole yourself.
I was going after it, but I'd see you in Halifax, now, before I'd do it.'
'Who wants you to get it? I don't. It's in the sounding-boat.'
'It ain't, either. It's been new-painted; and it's been up on the ladies'
cabin guards two days, drying.
I flew back, and shortly arrived among the crowd of watchingand wondering ladies just in time to hear the command:
'Give way, men!'
I looked over, and there was the gallant sounding-boat booming away,the unprincipled Tom presiding at the tiller, and my chief sitting by himwith the sounding-pole which I had been sent on a fool's errand to fetch.
Then that young girl said to me--'Oh, how awful to have to go out in that little boat on such a night!
Do you think there is any danger?'
I would rather have been stabbed. I went off, full of venom,to help in the pilot-house. By and by the boat's lantern disappeared,and after an interval a wee spark glimmered upon the face of the watera mile away. Mr. Thornburg blew the whistle, in acknowledgment,backed the steamer out, and made for it. We flew along for a while,then slackened steam and went cautiously gliding toward the spark.
Presently Mr. Thornburg exclaimed--'Hello, the buoy-lantern's out!'
He stopped the engines. A moment or two later he said--'Why, there it is again!'
So he came ahead on the engines once more, and rang for the leads.
Gradually the water shoaled up, and then began to deepen again!
Mr. Thornburg muttered--'Well, I don't understand this. I believe that buoy has driftedoff the reef. Seems to be a little too far to the left.
No matter, it is safest to run over it anyhow.'
So, in that solid world of darkness we went creeping down on the light.
Just as our bows were in the act of plowing over it, Mr. Thornburg seizedthe bell-ropes, rang a startling peal, and exclaimed--'My soul, it's the sounding-boat!'
A sudden chorus of wild alarms burst out far below--a pause--and then the sound of grinding and crashing followed.
Mr. Thornburg exclaimed--'There! the paddle-wheel has ground the sounding-boatto lucifer matches! Run! See who is killed!'
I was on the main deck in the twinkling of an eye. My chief and the thirdmate and nearly all the men were safe. They had discovered their dangerwhen it was too late to pull out of the way; then, when the great guardsovershadowed them a moment later, they were prepared and knew what to do;at my chiefs order they sprang at the right instant, seized the guard,and were hauled aboard. The next moment the sounding-yawl swept aftto the wheel and was struck and splintered to atoms. Two of the men andthe cub Tom, were missing--a fact which spread like wildfire over the boat.
The passengers came flocking to the forward gangway, ladies and all,anxious-eyed, white-faced, and talked in awed voices of the dreadful thing.
And often and again I heard them say, 'Poor fellows! poor boy, poor boy!'
By this time the boat's yawl was manned and away, to searchfor the missing. Now a faint call was heard, off to the left.
The yawl had disappeared in the other direction. Half the peoplerushed to one side to encourage the swimmer with their shouts;the other half rushed the other way to shriek to the yawl to turn about.
By the callings, the swimmer was approaching, but some said the soundshowed failing strength. The crowd massed themselves againstthe boiler-deck railings, leaning over and staring into the gloom;and every faint and fainter cry wrung from them such words as,'Ah, poor fellow, poor fellow! is there no way to save him?'
But still the cries held out, and drew nearer, and presentlythe voice said pluckily--'I can make it! Stand by with a rope!'
What a rousing cheer they gave him! The chief mate took his standin the glare of a torch-basket, a coil of rope in his hand,and his men grouped about him. The next moment the swimmer's faceappeared in the circle of light, and in another one the owner of itwas hauled aboard, limp and drenched, while cheer on cheer went up.
It was that devil Tom.
The yawl crew searched everywhere, but found no sign of the two men.
They probably failed to catch the guard, tumbled back, and were struckby the wheel and killed. Tom had never jumped for the guard at all,but had plunged head-first into the river and dived under the wheel.
It was nothing; I could have done it easy enough, and I said so;but everybody went on just the same, making a wonderful to do over that ass,as if he had done something great. That girl couldn't seem to haveenough of that pitiful 'hero' the rest of the trip; but little I cared;I loathed her, any way.
The way we came to mistake the sounding-boat's lantern for thebuoy-light was this. My chief said that after laying the buoyhe fell away and watched it till it seemed to be secure; then he tookup a position a hundred yards below it and a little to one side ofthe steamer's course, headed the sounding-boat up-stream, and waited.
Having to wait some time, he and the officer got to talking;he looked up when he judged that the steamer was about on the reef;saw that the buoy was gone, but supposed that the steamer had alreadyrun over it; he went on with his talk; he noticed that the steamerwas getting very close on him, but that was the correct thing;it was her business to shave him closely, for convenience in takinghim aboard; he was expecting her to sheer off, until the last moment;then it flashed upon him that she was trying to run him down,mistaking his lantern for the buoy-light; so he sang out,'Stand by to spring for the guard, men!' and the next instant thejump was made.
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