The Quadroon: Adventures in the Far West. Майн Рид
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by those of the Belle to pay back the boasts of the Magnolians. Shouts of banter reached their ears, and their former taunts were now returned with interest.
“Have you any message for Saint Louis? We’re going up there, and will be happy to carry it for you,” shouted one from the Belle.
“Hurraw for the bully-boat Belle!” vociferated another.
“How are you off for bacon hams?” asked a third. “We can lend you a few, if you’re out.”
“Where shall we say we left you?” inquired a fourth. “In Shirt-tail Bend?” And loud peals of laughter followed this joking allusion to a point in the river well-known to the boatmen.
It had now approached the hour of midnight, and not a soul on either boat had thought of retiring to rest. The interest in the race precluded the idea of sleep, and both men and women stood outside the cabins, or glided out and in at short intervals to note the progress. The excitement had led to drinking, and I noticed that several of the passengers were already half intoxicated. The officers, too, led on by those, were indulging too freely, and even the Captain showed symptoms of a similar condition. No one thought of censure—prudence had fled from the boat.
It is near midnight, and amidst the growling and grinding of the machinery, the boats are moving on! There is deep darkness upon the water, but this is no impediment. The red fires glow; the blaze stands high above the tall funnels; steam booms from the iron pipes; the huge paddles lash the water into foam; the timbers creak and tremble under the fierce pressure, and the boats move on!
It is near midnight. A space of two hundred yards alone separates the steamers—the Belle is bounding upon the waves of the Magnolia. In less than ten minutes her head will overlap the stern of her rival. In less than twenty, and the cheer of victory rising from her deck will peal from shore to shore!
I was standing by the Captain of our boat, regarding him not without a feeling of solicitude. I regretted to see him pass so often to the “bar.” He was drinking deeply.
He had returned to his station by the wheel-house, and was gazing ahead. Some straggling lights were gleaming on the right bank of the river, a mile farther up. The sight of these caused him to start, and utter a wild exclamation:—
“By Heavens! it is Bringiers!”
“Ye-e-s,” drawled the pilot at his elbow. “We’ve reached it in quick time, I reckon.”
“Great God! I must lose the race!”
“How?” said the other, not comprehending him; “what has that got to do with it?”
“I must land there. I must—I must—the lady who gave us the hams—I must land her!”
“Oh! that,” replied the phlegmatic pilot; “a darned pity it is,” he added; “but if you must, you must. Darn the luck! We’d a-beat them into shucks in another quarter, I reckon. Darn the luck!”
“We must give it up,” said the Captain. “Turn her head in.”
Saying this, he hurried below; and, observing his excited manner, I followed him.
A group of ladies stood upon the guard-way where the Captain descended over the wheel-house. The Creole was among them.
“Mademoiselle,” said the Captain, addressing himself to this lady, “we must lose the race after all.”
“Why?” asked she in surprise; “are there not enough? Antoine! have you delivered them all?”
“No, Mademoiselle,” replied the Captain, “it is not that, thanks to your generosity. You see those lights?”
“Yes—well?”
“That is Bringiers.”
“Oh! it is, is it?”
“Yes;—and of course you must be landed there.”
“And that would lose you the race?”
“Certainly.”
“Then, of course, I must not be landed there. What care I for a day? I am not so old but that I can spare one. Ha! ha! ha! You shall not lose your race, and the reputation of your fine boat, on my account. Think not of landing, cher Capitaine! Take me on to Baton Rouge. I can get back in the morning!”
A cheer rose from the auditory; and the Captain, rushing back to the pilot, countermanded his late order.
The Belle again stands in the wake of the Magnolia, and again scarce two hundred yards of the river lie between. The rumbling of their machinery—the booming of their steam—the plashing of their paddles—the creaking of their planks—the shouts of those on board, mingle in rude concert.
Up forges the Belle—up—up—gaining in spite of the throes of her antagonist. Up, nearer still—nearer, till her head laps upon the stern, then the wheel-house, then the foredeck of the Magnolia! Now the lights of both cross each other—their fires glow together upon the water—they are head and head!
Another foot is gained—the Captain waves his hat—and the cheer of triumph peals forth!
That cheer was never finished. Its first notes had scarce broke upon the midnight air, when it was interrupted by an explosion like the bursting of some vast magazine—an explosion that shook the air, the earth, and the water! Timbers crashed and flew upward—men shouted as their bodies were projected to the heavens—smoke and vapour filled the air—and one wild cry of agony arose upon the night!
Chapter Twelve.
The Life-Preserver.
The concussion, unlike anything I had ever heard, was, nevertheless, significant of the nature of the catastrophe. I felt an instantaneous conviction that the boilers had burst, and such in reality was the fact.
At the moment, I chanced to be on the balcony in rear of my state-room. I was holding by the guard-rail—else the shock and the sudden lurch of the boat would have flung me headlong.
Scarce knowing what I did, I staggered into my state-room, and through the opposite door into the main saloon.
Here I paused and looked around me. The whole forward part of the boat was shrouded in steam and smoke, and already a portion of the hot scalding vapour floated through the cabin.
Dreading the contact of this, I rushed aft; but by a fortunate chance the lurch of the boat had brought her stern to windward, and the breeze blew the dangerous element away.
The engine was now silent—the wheels had ceased to move—the ’scape-pipe no longer gave out its booming notes; but instead of these sounds, others of terrible import fell upon the ear. The shouts of men, mingled with oaths—wild, awful imprecations—the more shrill piercing shrieks of women—the groans of rounded from the deck below—the agonised cry of those blown into the water and drowning—all rang upon the ear with terrible emphasis!
How changed the tones from those that, but a moment before, pealed from the self-same lips!
The smoky vapour was soon partially blown off, and I could catch a glimpse of the forward part of the boat. There a complete chaos met the eye. The smoking-saloon, the bar with its contents, the front awning, and part of the starboard wheel-house, were completely carried away—blown up as if a mine had been sprung beneath them—and the huge sheet-iron funnels had fallen forward upon the deck! At a glance I was convinced that captain, pilots, all who had been upon that part of the boat, must have perished!
Of course such reflections passed with the rapidity of thought itself, and occupied me not a moment of time. I felt that I was still unhurt, and my first natural thought was that of preserving