Never day dawned fairer than that following the tornado. Our arksmen, thankful to have escaped the fate of their fellow-voyagers, put off early, and at noon were passing Island No. 10.
Here, by Marion Royce’s orders, the men took their rifles and lay concealed below the rail of the ark, Merrick and Charlie Hoyt alone standing exposed at the sweeps. After this fashion they passed down the narrow reach on the left, keeping a sharp eye to both shores.
No enemies were sighted, however, and at four in the afternoon the infant town of New Madrid came into view, on its pretty
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plain along the right bank, which as yet the river had not gnawed away. The place was one of the feeble efforts of the Spaniards to establish colonies in the Mississippi Valley.
For, although at the date of our story, the Spanish were in possession of New Orleans and the lower course of the river, this control was nominal and temporary, the outcome of treaty between France and Spain, rather than real or permanent. The two nations which, for the century prior to 1803, had so long and so bitterly contended for the mastery of this peerless region, were France and England; and, for a period of time as great as that which has elapsed since the War of the Revolution, the whole Mississippi Valley was virtually French territory. The Louisiana Purchase marked the close of an era, the end of a century of French sovereignty; this event transferred the control of by far the most important
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portion of what is now the United States, from the French to the Anglo-American people.
At New Madrid not less than a hundred river craft of every variety were tied up, either for purposes of trade or repair; “keels” and barges from Pittsburgh, the full-rigged brig from Marietta, four arks from Vincennes, flatboats from far up the Wabash, with a great number of skiffs, and pirogues from the various military posts. So diverse and heterogeneous a gathering of boatmen could hardly meet and mingle without friction; and, in strict point of fact, the first thing our arksmen saw, on veering to the bank, was a “rough-and-tumble” between the Marietta brig’s crew and some boatmen from up the Wabash.
The latter had a flatboat loaded with sugar, and live turkeys, not less than three hundred of which fine birds were confined
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in huge wooden cages on the roof of their craft. The brig’s crew, victorious in the scuffle, levied heavily on the flatboatmen’s turkeys.
At last, the little garrison at the post attempted to restore order, but with indifferent success; the brig’s crew threatened to sack the town if molested, and appeared able to make good the menace. Such was New Madrid in 1803.
Marion Royce’s only object in landing here was to procure two strong sweeps for the ark. Having accomplished this in the course of an hour or two, he resumed his voyage and continued for two hours longer before tying up in the eddy at the foot of an island for the night.
Here, both the arksmen and their live stock were badly tortured by large, ravenous mosquitoes. Moreover, they sorely missed their poultry, this and the milk from their two cows being important items of the food supply.
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They were also rendered apprehensive from a bold visit by a canoe containing four Indians, supposed to be Choctaws, that came alongside the ark and held up a bearskin as if to sell it. But Marion was of the opinion that their real motive was to learn if an attack on them would be likely to prove successful. Three men watched, by turns, all night.
As they were putting off at daybreak, three lumber-laden arks from Pittsburgh appeared and made a landing near them for repairs, one of them having run on a snag during the night. That day they made about sixty miles, passing Island No. 31 at four in the afternoon; and then crossing over to avoid Flour Island, tied up for the night at the foot of a high bluff of yellow clay, crowned by forest.
A huge tree which had fallen down the bank afforded opportunity to make fast, although the current was here very swift
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and strong, making in against the bank so forcefully that the ark was pressed hard against the great branches of the tree-top, which lay partly in the water.
Flour Island, so called from a disaster to flour-laden boats which had recently occurred there, lay over opposite them; and there appeared to be an Indian camp near the lower end of it, judging from the fires, and an uproar of savage outcries that was borne to their ears. No such swift, dangerous currents had been encountered anywhere since the voyage began as these which set in through the “races” between the islands and bluffs. The ark, being deep-laden, they were not a little apprehensive for her safety.
Just as they were making fast, too, another lumber-laden barge came drifting past, close into shore, and struck them with such force as to stave in the bulwarks aft and break two stanchions that supported the roof.
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As the two boats hung in contact for a moment, there was a singular accession to the crew of the ark. A large pet bear, terrified, perhaps, by the crash, and seeing, as he thought, a way of escaping ashore, broke his chain and leaped across from the lumber barge to the roof of the ark just as the two boats swung clear of each other.
With a muttered malediction from her captain, who seemed in a bad temper, the lumber boat drifted away on the swift current. The bear, meanwhile, was making for the shore, but when he attempted to clamber down the other side of the roof, his chain caught in a crack between the planks and brought him up short at the bulwarks of the main deck below.
Thus, the pet of the lumbermen was transferred from one craft to the other, and all in a space of less than five seconds of time!
In the gathering dusk the arksmen
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stood staring after the barge which had given them so rude a salute. Captain Royce then hailed them:
“Hallo, the barge!”
“Hallo, the ark!” was the gruff response from the receding craft.
“You’ve left something!” Marion shouted, laughing.
“And good riddance!” was the uncivil response.
Meanwhile the wolf-dog, Tige, who considered himself guardian of the ark, set upon the bear, tooth and nail, but came off badly from the encounter. The crew gathered round, and after looking the newcomer over by lantern-light, secured him more comfortably and fed him. He was a fine black bear, about a year and a half old.
After supper, and as the evening passed, Marion Royce, according to his custom when repairs were needed, set to work to
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replace the broken stanchion posts, and called Moses Ayer to hold the lantern for him. Lewis Hoyt was on the roof out forward, doing lookout duty and watching the fires on Flour Island; but the rest of the crew had turned in.
Presently Lewis came back aft. “I think there’s a buffalo up the bluff,” he said.
Moses laughed. Captain Royce, busy with his adz, paid little attention; buffalo were still to be found on the prairies along the river.
Lewis stood near them for a few moments, then went forward again. The ark chafed against the tree branches with harsh, creaking sounds; frogs were croaking, and from the island, at intervals, came a singular noise, as of some large horn blown with great effort. This was followed by the reports of guns and loud yells; but whether the savages over there were
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celebrating some festival, or fighting, was not clear.
Captain Royce went on with his work. Before long, however, Lewis joined them again. “There’s something up the bluff,” he insisted.
“How d’ye know?” said Moses. “You can’t see it, can you?”
“But I can hear it,” replied Lewis, nervously. “A stone or something rolled down just now.”
“Stones and earth often roll down when the water is high,” remarked Captain Royce.
“But I tell you there’s something up there!” repeated Lewis.
“Oh, Lew’s scared,” said Moses.
“No more scared than you!” retorted Lewis. “If it’s a buffalo, I’m going to shoot it.”
“Don’t you go to firing, Lewis,” Marion said. “Let the buffalo go. And you had
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better get up on the roof again,” he continued. “I want you to keep a sharp eye up-stream for boats or floating trees. Don’t come down here again till I send a man to take your place.”
Thus admonished, Lewis climbed on the roof once more and remained there for an hour or so, when Moses, his task of holding the lantern being over, went up to see if anything new had happened.
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