Jeffrey Smith, “Mississippi River”
Probably the most interesting trip southward by water, was that made by K. L. Mills, of Chicago, and L. B. Sager, of Grand Rapids. They traveled 1,148 miles of the Mississippi River and its tributaries, from Cairo, Ill., to New Orleans, in 30 days, in an 18-foot, scow-like craft, propelled by an Evinrude outboard motor.
Off merely for a sort of “Don't know where I’m going, but I’m on my way” venture, Mills and Sager, upon arriving at Cairo, decided to try roughing it down the Mississippi River, á la Huckleberry Finn, to New Orleans. Wandering down to the river front, they chanced upon a Lee Edwards beamy, sturdy-looking little scow, with prairie-schooner canopy arrangement. Neither of them knew a thing about boats, but they decided that here was the very kind of craft they needed. They bought the outfit for $22.50 and four cigars, on Oct. 1, christened the craft Runnin’ Some, and, after, stocking the larder cast off their moorings at daybreak on Oct. 2, and started the paddling drifting voyage to distant New Orleans.
Near St. Louis they espied a skiff propelled by the first outboard motor they had ever seen at close range. The skipper of the skiff showed them how it worked and told them that they could purchase a duplicate of it in St. Louis.
They invested in an Evinrude and a gallon of gasoline, with the idea that it would be sufficient to push them to the Crescent City.
Then the fun began. After a deal of trying, “Engineer" Sager happened upon the happy combination, and away popped the motor, pushing the Runnin' Some down stream at a hot clip. Two happy cruisers forgot about the necessity for steering, and they were rudely slammed into the bow when Runnin’ Some’s snub nose piled into the river bank.
All went well thereafter until, after 35 miles of popping, they reached Wicksfield, Ky., when the Evinrude went dead. It took some time for them to discover that the trouble was a dry fuel tank. A two-mile walk obtained some fuel, the tank was refilled and they were on the way again.
Following the winding Father of Waters, now in Tennessee, then in Arkansas, again in Mississippi, and then in Louisiana, Runnin' Some made numerous stops, among them Vicksburg and Natchez.
They now had come to that stretch of the Mississippi where it is necessary to dodge sandbars, shallows, and shelves. Having no pilot, the Runnin' Some once hung-up on a shelf. Engineer Sager went overboard into the shallow water to shove her off. Then the craft suddenly shot forward, and he flopped off of the shelf into sheer 30 ft. of water.
On the following day they ran into a dense fog. Suddenly loomed up, head-on, a big Mississippi River steam packet, the Percy Swain. Capt. Mills bore away a safe distance and slowed down to watch her pass. When she was almost opposite the Runnin’ Some the big packet ran afoul of a snag, ripped a big hole in her side, filled, and, listing to starboard, went down, in rather shallow water but deep enough to float her deck cargo off.
After noting that the crew and all others on board the steamer were safe on the upper deck, and were launching the small boats, the crew of the Runnin' Some began salvaging cargo, or, to be more exact, picked up a case of toasted corn flakes and a small coop of chickens, both of which they were advised by the steamer's officers they could keep. So corn flakes and fried chicken were added to the menu.
Their next stop was Baton Rouge, capital of Louisiana, where, for the first time in their lives, they saw an oceangoing steamship, a big oil-tanker. Donaldsonville, La., was their next stop, from which point they came direct to New Orleans.
Landing at the wharf at the head of Canal Street, in front of the Dock Board’s office, they were warned by Dock Board police that they could not tie up there, as it was a steamship berth, and were instructed to proceed to a berth at Poland Street pier, which they did.
After making things snug aboard ship, and donning their shore duds, they went in search of the home of the Evinrude, finally locating it at the marine motor and supply house of Arthur Duvic’s Sons. After relating the story of their experiences, they sold the motor which had done the 1,148 miles without balking once, for $35, the Duvics, upon testing it, finding the little kicker in perfect running order, which is something to be wondered at, in view of the fact that it had been in green hands a whole 30 days.
The Runnin' Some was sold for $12.50, and a few days later the crew took passage on a ship of the Cuyamel Fruit Co.’s line for Central America.
No comments:
Post a Comment