CHAPTER XV
IN THE CHUTE
Below New Madrid the swollen river was so full that only the line oftrees on either side indicated its borders. In many places it had socompletely overflowed its banks that it was forty or fifty miles wide infact. In other places, where the banks were high, the river was confinedfor brief spaces within its natural limits, and rushed forward with thespeed of water in a mill-race.
The driftwood had by this time largely run out, and while there wasstill much of it in the river, its presence no longer involved anyparticular danger. Still, it was necessary to observe it; and it wasespecially necessary to keep a close watch on the boat's course, lestshe should be drawn into some bayou or pocket, where danger wouldimpend.
Nevertheless, the boys had considerable leisure, and Ed devoted a gooddeal of the time, at their request, to expounding to them all the lorethat he had gathered from his books. One day he brought out his mapagain, and got them interested in it until they lost sight ofother things around them. For that matter, Jim Hughes was on thesteering-bridge, and was supposed to be directing the course of theboat. It was his duty, of course, to call attention to anything thatmight need attention; so the boys allowed themselves to become absorbedin Ed's explanations and in their own study of the map.
It was about sunset when Phil raised himself and took a look ahead. Hesuddenly sprang to his feet and called out hurriedly, but not excitedly,"Starboard sweep, boys."
He himself ran to the steering-oar, and, in spite of some remonstrancefrom the pilot, took possession of it.
"What are you doing, Jim," he called out, "running us into this chute?Give it to her, boys, with all your might."
But it was of no use. It was too late. The boat had already been driveninto the chute behind an island, and must now go through it. Jim Hugheshad successfully managed that.
A chute is that part of the river which lies between an island and theshore nearest to it. At low water, the chutes in the Mississippi are notusually navigable at all. But when the river is high, they are deepenough and wide enough for a steamboat to pass through; and, as passingthrough the chute usually saves many miles of distance against a strongcurrent, the steamboats going up the stream always "run the chute" whenthey can. But as these chutes are rarely wide enough, even in thehighest water, for two boats to pass each other safely within them, thelaw forbids boats going down the river to run them at all.
Phil had been instructed in all this by Perry Raymond, and he wastherefore much disturbed when he found the flatboat hopelessly involvedin the head of the chute.
He explained in short, crisp, snappy sentences to his fellows theviolation of law they were committing, and the danger there was ofsnags, fallen trees and other obstructions, in running the chute underthe most favorable circumstances.
But he was in for it now, and there was only one thing to be done. Gothrough the chute he must. The problem was to get through it as quicklyand as safely as possible. If he could get through it without meetingany up-coming steamer and without running the boat afoul of any snags orother obstructions, all would be well enough, except that it would stillleave Jim Hughes's action unexplained and puzzling. Should he meet asteamboat in the narrow passage, he must take the consequences, whateverthey might happen to be. He kept the boys continually at the sweeps, inorder to give him good steerage way; and earnestly adjured them to bealert, and to act instantly on any order he might give, to all of whichthey responded with enthusiasm.
"How long is this chute, Jim?"
"How do I know?" answered that worthy, or more properly, that unworthy.
"I thought you knew the river. You shipped as a pilot," said the boy."Hard on the starboard, boys; hard on the starboard! There, that'll do.Let her float now!"
Then turning to Jim, he said again:--
"You shipped as a pilot. You pretended to know the river. Probably youdo know it better than you now pretend. You deliberately ran us intothis channel. You did it on purpose. You must know the chute then. Whatdid you do it for? What do you mean by it?"
"Yes, I shipped as a pilot," answered the surly fellow, "but I shippedwithout pay, you will remember. I was careful to assume no obligationfor which I could be held responsible in law."
Phil started back in amazement. Neither the sentence nor the assuredforethought that lay behind it fitted at all the character of theignorant lout that the man who spoke had pretended to be. Phil nowclearly saw that all this man's pretences had been false, that hischaracter and his personality had been assumed, and that, for somepurpose known only to himself, the fellow had been deceiving him fromthe start. Not altogether deceiving him, however, for Phil's suspicionshad already been so far aroused that it could not be said that he hadbeen hoodwinked completely. But for these suspicions, indeed, he wouldnot now so readily have observed the man's speech and behavior. He wouldnot so accurately have interpreted his truculence when he commanded himto "go to a sweep," and the man answered, "Not if I know it!" and wentto the cabin instead.
But at that moment Phil had no time to deal further with the fellow, oreven to think of him. For just as dark was falling, the flatboat swungaround a sharp bend in the chute, and came suddenly face to face with agreat, roaring, glaring, glittering steamboat that was running the chuteup stream at racing speed.
The steamboat whistled madly, and reversed her engines full force. Thecaptain, the pilot, both the mates, all the deck-hands, all theroustabouts, and most of the male passengers on board shouted in chorus,with much of objurgation for punctuation marks, to know what theflatboat meant by running the chute down stream.
Phil paid no attention to the hullabaloo, but gave his whole mind to theproblem of navigating his own craft. The steamboat's wheels, as shebacked water so mightily, threw forward great waves which, catching theflatboat under the bow, drove her stern-on toward the bank. By avigorous use of the sweeps, and a great deal of tugging on his own partat the steering-oar, Phil managed to slew the boat around in time toprevent her going ashore; and fortunately there was just passagewayenough to let her slip by the steamer, grazing the guards in passing.
It was the work of a very few minutes, but it seemed an age tothe anxious boy; and as the steamer resumed her course, her crewsending back a volley of maledictions, his only thought was one ofcongratulation that he had escaped from so desperate an entanglement.
Just then, however, he observed Jim Hughes at the stern, climbing intothe towed skiff, into which he had already thrown his carpet-bag. Heobserved also that before engaging in this manoeuvre the pilot had set upa handkerchief at the bow, apparently as a signal, and that somerough-looking men were gathered on the shore just astern.
Quick as a flash Phil realized that for some reason Jim Hughes wasquitting the boat, and was in communication with the men on shore.
Without quite realizing why he should object to this, he proceeded toput a stop to it. He called to his comrades, who could now leave theoars, as the boat was floating out of the chute and into the main riveragain, to come to his assistance. Without parley they tumbled over theend of the boat into the skiff, which had not yet been cast loose, andthere seized the runaway. He fought with a good deal of desperation, butfive stalwart Hoosier boys are apt to be more than a match for any oneman, however strong and however desperate he may be. They quicklyovercame Jim Hughes and hustled him back on board the flatboat. Therethey held him down, while one of them, at Phil's request, ran for somerope. A minute later they had their prisoner securely tied, both as toarms and as to legs, and dropped him, feet first, down the cabin stairs.
No sooner was he out of the way than the men on shore began firing atthe flatboat. They had refrained prior to that time, apparently, lestthey should hit their comrade, for such he manifestly was. Their firingwas at long range, however, and it was now nearly dark. The swiftcurrent soon carried the boat wholly beyond reach of rifle-shots and outinto the river. Lest the desperadoes on shore should follow in skiffs orotherwise, Phil ordered the boys to the sweeps again, and kept t
hemthere until they had driven the boat well over toward the oppositeshore. Then he summoned a council of war.
THE FIGHT WITH THE PILOT.
"A minute later they had their prisoner securely tied."]
"What are we going to do with that fellow?" he asked.
"Well," said Ed, "you have got him well tied and--"
"Yes, but," said Irv, "have we any right to tie him? He hasn't committedany crime."
"Yes, he has," said Phil. "At least, we caught him in the act ofcommitting one. He was trying to steal one of Perry Raymond's skiffs.That's worth twenty-five dollars. If he hadn't anything worse in hismind, his attempt on the skiff was grand larceny."
"That's so," said Ed, "and we can turn him over to a magistrate at thefirst landing for that."
"I don't think I shall make any landing," said Phil, "until we get toMemphis, and in the meantime I am going to know all there is to knowabout this fellow. When he came on board he had his hair shaved closewith a barber's mowing-machine, but, unfortunately for him, he didn'tbring one of the machines with him. His hair is growing out again now,and I have been comparing several of its little peculiarities closelywith descriptions and portraits in the newspapers I got at Cairo of thefellow who is running away with that swag. Boys, I believe we have gotthe man."
Phil's comrades were positively dumb with astonishment. At last thesilence was broken.
"If we have," said Irv Strong, "this voyage will pay, for the rewardsoffered for this man are very heavy."
"Yes," said Phil; "I hadn't thought of that, but that's so. There arefive thousand dollars on his capture."
Just then there was a flash in the dark from the cabin scuttle, and abullet whistled over the heads of the boys. Jim Hughes had managed toextricate himself, in part at least, from his bonds, and had begun touse a weapon which he had doubtless hidden before that time, and ofwhich the boys had known nothing.
Ed was the first to act. He was always exceedingly quick to think. Hecalled to the boys to follow him, and, disregarding Jim's fusillade, ranto the scuttle.
In an instant, by their united efforts, they pushed the fellow back andclosed the lid that covered the stairs. Then Ed remembered that therewas a door leading out of the cabin into the hold of the boat. Hesuggested to two of the boys that they go below, and close that withbales of hay and the like. They did so hurriedly, piling the hay andsome apple barrels against the door, until it would have required thestrength of half a dozen men to push it open. In the meantime Ed hadpossessed himself of a hatchet and nails, and had securely nailed downthe scuttle.
Just then Irv Strong thought of something.
"Suppose he gets desperate? He could easily set fire to things downthere."
"That's so," said Phil, who had just returned from the hold. "Bring thefire-extinguishers."
By the time they got the four large carbonic acid receptacles a newthought had occurred to Ed.
"Bring an auger, boys. There's one lying forward there. The big one."
It was quickly brought, though none of the boys could guess what Edintended to do. He took the auger, and quickly bored an inch hole in thescuttle. A flash and a bullet came through it, but nobody was hurt.
"Now, give me an extinguisher," said Ed.
Putting the nozzle of the hose through the hole, he turned the apparatusupside down, and allowed its contents to be driven violently into thelittle cabin. When the first extinguisher was exhausted he turned on thehose of another, and after that of a third.
For a while the imprisoned man, shut up in a box ten feet by twelve andnot over five or six feet high, indulged in lusty yells, but these soonbecame husky, and presently ceased entirely. The moment they did, Edcalled out:--
"Rip off the scuttle quick, boys; he's suffocated."
The boys did not at all understand what had happened, but they actedpromptly in obedience to their wisest comrade's order. When the scuttlewas opened and a lantern brought, Jim was seen lying limp at the foot ofthe little ladder.
"Now, be careful," said Ed. "Irving, you and Phil--you're thestrongest--go down, hold your breath, and drag him up. Be sure to holdyour breath. Do just as you do when you're diving."
They made an effort, but almost instantly came back, gasping for air,sneezing, and with eyes and noses tingling.
"Catch your breath quick," said Ed, "and go down again. You must get himout, or he will be dead, if he isn't dead already."
They made another dash, this time acting more carefully upon theinstruction to treat the descent as if it were a dive, and carefullyholding their breath. In a brief while they dragged the body of thepilot out upon the deck, and Ed gave directions for restoring life byartificial respiration.
"You see, he's practically a drowned man," he said.
"Drowned?" said Will Moreraud. "Why, he's not even been in the water,and that little dash with the hose wouldn't drown a kitten."
"Never mind that," said Ed; "quick now; he's drowned, or just the samething. We must bring him to life."
"Well, slip that rope around his arms and legs while we do it," saidPhil, "or we'll have trouble when he comes to."
This was a suggestion which they all recognized as altogether timely,and so the apparent corpse was carefully secured by two of the boys,while the rest worked at the task of restoring him to life.
He "came to" in a little while, and lay stretched out upon the deck,weak and exhausted. Then, at Ed's suggestion, the boys went below by theforward door, rolled away the obstructions, and threw open the door ofthe cabin, so that all the air possible might pass through it. It washalf an hour at least before breathing became comfortable in that littlebox. Then Phil made a thorough exploration of Jim's carpet-bag, bunk,and everything else that pertained to him. His only remark as to theresult of his personal inquiry was:--
"I guess we needn't trouble ourselves about having arrested this man."
While waiting for the air to render the cabin habitable again, Constantsaid, "But, Ed, how did he _drown_ without going into the water? I don'tunderstand."
"Neither do I," said Will Moreraud; "but he was drowned all safe enough.I've seen too many drowned people not to know one when I see him."
Then Ed explained:--
"That cabin is a little box about ten feet by twelve, and six feet high,and when shut up it's nearly air tight. It contains only a little overseven hundred cubic feet of air. These chemical fire extinguishers arefilled with water saturated with soda or saleratus. There is a bottle ineach one, filled with oil of vitriol, or a coarse, cheap sort ofsulphuric acid. It is so arranged that when you turn the thing upsidedown the bottle breaks, and the acid is dumped into the water. Now whenyou pour sulphuric acid into a mixture of water and soda, the soda givesoff an enormous quantity of what is commonly called carbonic acid gas,though I believe its right name is carbon dioxide. At any rate, it isthe same gas that makes soda water 'fizz.' But when you turn one ofthese machines upside down you get about ten or twenty times as much ofthe gas in the water as there is in the same quantity of soda water; andwhen you turn this doubled and twisted soda water loose it gives off itsgas in enormous quantities. Now this gas is heavier than air, so when itwas set loose down in the cabin there, it sank to the bottom, and theair floated on top of it. As the cabin filled up with the gas the aircame out through the hole in the scuttle and the cracks round it.Pouring that gas into the cabin was just like pouring water into a jug;the gas took the place of air just as the water in the jug takes theplace of the air that was in it at first.
"Suppose you let a lighted lantern down into the cabin, Will," suggestedthe older boy, "and see what happens."
Will did so, and the lantern went out as promptly as it would have doneif plunged into water.
"You see," said Ed, "this gas puts out fire, and it puts out life in thesame way. It smothers both. It absolutely excludes oxygen, and neitheranimal life nor fire can exist without oxygen. Do I make the thingclear?"
"Perfectly," said all the boys.
"Then that's why we
choked so when we went down the ladder?" said Phil.
"Certainly. Your air was as completely cut off as if you had dived intowater. That's why I cautioned you to hold your breath just as if you hadbeen diving into the river."
The Last of the Flatboats Page 16