ONE day, on board the 'Aleck Scott,' my chief, Mr. Bixby,was crawling carefully through a close place at Cat Island,both leads going, and everybody holding his breath. The captain,a nervous, apprehensive man, kept still as long as he could,but finally broke down and shouted from the hurricane deck--'For gracious' sake, give her steam, Mr. Bixby! give her steam!

She'll never raise the reef on this headway!'

For all the effect that was produced upon Mr. Bixby, one would have supposedthat no remark had been made. But five minutes later, when the dangerwas past and the leads laid in, he burst instantly into a consuming fury,and gave the captain the most admirable cursing I ever listened to.

No bloodshed ensued; but that was because the captain's cause was weak;for ordinarily he was not a man to take correction quietly.

Having now set forth in detail the nature of the science of piloting,and likewise described the rank which the pilot held among the fraternityof steamboatmen, this seems a fitting place to say a few words about anorganization which the pilots once formed for the protection of their guild.

It was curious and noteworthy in this, that it was perhaps the compactest,the completest, and the strongest commercial organization everformed among men.

For a long time wages had been two hundred and fifty dollars a month;but curiously enough, as steamboats multiplied and business increased,the wages began to fall little by little. It was easy to discoverthe reason of this. Too many pilots were being 'made.' It was niceto have a 'cub,' a steersman, to do all the hard work for a coupleof years, gratis, while his master sat on a high bench and smoked;all pilots and captains had sons or nephews who wanted to be pilots. By andby it came to pass that nearly every pilot on the river had a steersman.

When a steersman had made an amount of progress that was satisfactoryto any two pilots in the trade, they could get a pilot's license for himby signing an application directed to the United States Inspector.

Nothing further was needed; usually no questions were asked, no proofsof capacity required.

Very well, this growing swarm of new pilots presentlybegan to undermine the wages, in order to get berths.

Too late--apparently--the knights of the tiller perceivedtheir mistake. Plainly, something had to be done, and quickly;but what was to be the needful thing. A close organization.

Nothing else would answer. To compass this seemed an impossibility;so it was talked, and talked, and then dropped.

It was too likely to ruin whoever ventured to movein the matter. But at last about a dozen of the boldest--and some of them the best--pilots on the river launchedthemselves into the enterprise and took all the chances.

They got a special charter from the legislature, with large powers,under the name of the Pilots' Benevolent Association;elected their officers, completed their organization,contributed capital, put 'association' wages up to two hundredand fifty dollars at once--and then retired to their homes,for they were promptly discharged from employment.

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