by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER FOUR.
THE RIVAL BOATS.
The part of the "Levee" under my eyes was that known as the "SteamboatLanding." Some twenty or thirty boats lay along a series of woodenwharves that projected slightly into the river. Some had just arrivedfrom up-river towns, and were discharging their freight and passengers,at this season a scanty list. Others, surrounded by a bustling swarm,were getting up steam; while still others appeared to be abandoned byboth officers and crew--who were no doubt at the time enjoyingthemselves in the brilliant cafes and restaurants. Occasionally mightbe seen a jauntily-dressed clerk, with blue cottonade trowsers, whitelinen coat, costly Panama hat, shirt with cambric ruffles, and diamondstuds. This stylish gentleman would appear for a few minutes by one ofthe deserted boats--perhaps transact a little business with some one--and then hurry off again to his more pleasant haunts in the city.
There were two points upon the Levee where the bustle of active life wasmore especially observable. These were the spaces in front of two largeboats. One was that on which I had taken passage. The other, as Icould read upon her wheel-house, was the "Magnolia." The latter wasalso upon the eve of starting, as I could tell by the movements of herpeople, by the red fires seen in her furnaces, and the hissing of steam,that every now and then screamed sharply from the direction of herboilers.
On the Levee directly in front of her "drays" were depositing their lastloads, passengers were hurrying forward hat-box in hand, in fear theymight be too late; trunks, boxes, bags, and barrels were being rudelypushed or rolled over the staging-planks; the gaily-dressed clerks,armed with book and pencil, were checking them off; and everythingdenoted the intention of a speedy departure. A scene exactly similarwas being enacted in front of the "Belle of the West."
I had not been regarding these movements very long, before I observedthat there was something unusual "in the wind." The boats lay at nogreat distance from each other, and their crews, by a slight elevationof voice, could converse. This they were freely doing; and from someexpressions that reached me, coupled with a certain tone of defiance inwhich they were uttered, I could perceive that the "Magnolia" and the"Belle of the West" were "rival boats." I soon gathered the furtherinformation, that they were about to start at the same time, and that a"race" was in contemplation!
I knew that this was no unusual occurrence among what are termed "crack"boats, and both the "Belle" and her rival came under that category.Both were of the first-class in size and magnificence of fitting; bothran in the same "trade," that is, from New Orleans to Saint Louis; andboth were commanded by well-known and popular river "captains." Theycould not be otherwise than rivals; and this feeling was shared in bythe crews of both, from captain to cabin-slave.
As regards the owners and officers in such cases, there is a substantial_money motive_ at the bottom of this rivalry. The boat that "whips" inone of these races, wins also the future patronage of the public. The"fast boat" becomes the fashionable boat, and is ever afterwards sure ofa strong list of passengers at a high rate of fare--for there is thispeculiarity among Americans: many of them will spend their last dollarto be able to say at the end of his journey that he came upon thefashionable boat, just as in England you find many people desirous ofmaking it known that they travelled "first-class." Snobbery is peculiarto no country--it appears to be universal.
With regard to the contemplated trial of speed between the "Belle of theWest" and the "Magnolia," the feeling of rivalry pervaded not only thecrews of both boats, but I soon discovered that the passengers wereaffected with it. Most of these seemed as eager for the race as anEnglish blackleg for the Derby. Some no doubt looked forward to thesport and excitement, but I soon perceived that the greater number werebetting upon the result!
"The Belle's boun' to win!" cried a gold-studded vulgar-looking fellowat my shoulder. "I'll go twenty dollars on the Belle. Will you bet,stranger?"
"No," I replied, somewhat angrily, as the fellow had taken a liberty bylaying his hand on my shoulder.
"Well," retorted he, "jest as you like 'bout that;" and addressinghimself to some one else he continued, "the Belle's the conquering boatfor twenty dollars! Twenty dollars on the Belle!"
I confess I had no very pleasant reflections at that moment. It was myfirst trip upon an American steamboat, and my memory was brimful ofstories of "boiler burstings", "snaggings", "blowings up," and boats onfire. I had heard that these races not infrequently resulted in one orother of the above-named catastrophes, and I had reason to know that myinformation was correct.
Many of the passengers--the more sober and respectable ones--shared myfeelings; and some talked of appealing to the Captain not to allow therace. But they knew they were in the minority, and held their peace.
I had made up my mind at least to ask the Captain "his intentions." Iwas prompted rather by curiosity than by any other motive.
I left my seat, therefore, and having crossed the staging, walked towardthe top of the wharf, where this gentleman was standing.