Flushed with success, the
order was given to turn her loose, and we gathered in the ropes. Now
we were drifting away from the shore and making some headway against
the swift current. The crowd on shore was left behind.
But as we left the bank the river increased in speed and the boat
gradually lost. Then she stood still, but began to turn slowly,
broadside to the current. This was something we had not foreseen. With
no headway the rudder was of no avail. There was no sweep-oar; we had
even neglected to put an oar on the boat. With pieces of boards the
stranger and I paddled, trying to hold her straight, but all the time,
in spite of our efforts, she drifted away from the land and slowly
turned. A big sand-wave struck her, she wheeled in her tracks and
raced straight for a pier, down the stream.
About this time our engineer began having trouble with his engine. At
first we feared it would not run, now it seemed it would not stop.
A great shout went up from the shore, and a bet was made that we would
run to the Gulf in less than a day. A darky boy fell off a boat in the
excitement, the Indians did a dance, men pounded each other and
whooped for joy. Then a bolt came loose, and the engine ran away.
Driving-rod and belts were whirled "regardless," as the passenger
afterwards said, about our heads.
Then the crash came. Our efforts to escape the pier were of no avail.
I made a puny effort to break the impact with a pole, but was sent
sprawling on the deck.
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