CHAPTER VII
THE WRECKING OF THE MISSOURI BELLE
Tom grasped his companion's arm and hurried her toward the place wherethe yawl was tied as shouts, curses, tearing wood and a panic-strickencrowd of passengers pouring out of the cabins and rooms turned the nightinto a pandemonium, over which the hysterical blasts of the whistlebellowed its raucous calls for help far and wide across water and land.There came a rush of feet and several groups of passengers dashed towardthe yawl, but stopped abruptly and hesitated as the Colt in Tom's handglinted coldly in the soft light of a cabin window.
"Women first!" he snarled, savage as an animal at bay. "I'll kill th'first man that comes any closer! Get those bullboats overside, an'somebody round up th' other women an' bring 'em here! Keep cool, an'everybody'll be saved--lose yore heads an' we'll all die, _some_quicker'n others! Not another step forward!"
"Right ye air, friend," said a voice, and Zack, pistol in hand, droppedfrom the deck above and alighted at Tom's side like a fighting bobcat."Put over them bullboats--an' be shore ye get hold o' th' ropes when yedo. _Lady!_" he shouted, catching sight of an emigrant and his wife."Come hyar! An' you," he commanded her husband, "stan' by us--shoot terkill if ye pulls trigger. Fine bunch o' cattle!" he sneered, and therapidly growing crowd, finding that the guns facing them did not waver,turned and stampeded for the bullboats, every man of it bellowing ordersand getting in the way of everyone else. There came a splash, a chorusof curses as a bullboat, thrown overboard upside down, slipped away inthe darkness.
"Right side up, ye tarnation fools!" roared a voice, accompanied by asolid smash as a hunter near the boats knocked down a frantic freighterand took charge of the mob. "I'm fixin' fer to kill somebody!" heyelled. "Hang onter that rope or I'll spatter yer brains all overcreation! Right side up, damn ye! Hold her! Thar! Now then, put overanother--if ye git in that boat till I says so ye won't have no need ferit!"
Friends coming to his aid helped him hold the milling mob, and theircoolness and determination, tried in many ticklish situations, stoodthem in good stead.
"Ask th' captain how bad she is!" shouted Tom as he caught sight of JoeCooper tearing through the crowd like a madman. "I got Patience an'another woman here!"
"I might 'a' known it," yelled Uncle Joe, fighting back the way he hadcome. In a moment he returned and shouted until the frantic crowd gavehim heed. "Cap'n says she can't sink! Cap'n says she can't sink! Listen,damn ye! Cap'n says she can't sink. He's groundin' her on a bar! Keep'em out of them boats, boys! _Don't_ let them fools get in th' boats!Not till th' very last thing! They'll only swamp 'em."
"Good fer you, St. Louis!" roared a mountaineer, playing with a skinningknife in most suggestive manner.
"Th' boilers'll blow up! Th' boilers'll blow up! Look out for th'boilers!" yelled a tenderfoot, fighting to get to the boats. "They'llblow up! They'll blow----"
Zack took one swift step sideways and brought the butt of his pistoldown on the jumping jack's head. "Let 'em blow, sister!" he shouted."_You_ won't hear 'em! Any more scared o' th' boilers?" he yelled,facing the crowd menacingly. "They won't blow up till th' water gits to'em, an' when it does we'll all be knee-deep in it. Thar on this hyardeck, ye sheep!"
One man was running around in a circle not five feet across, moaning andblubbering. Tom glanced at him as he came around and stepped quicklyforward, his foot streaking out and up. It caught the human pinwheel onthe chest and he turned a beautiful back flip into the crowd. Zack'sbooming laugh roared out over the water and he slapped Tom resoundinglyon the shoulder.
"More fun right hyar than in a free-fer-all at a winter rendyvoo,pardner. You kick wuss nor a mule. An' whar _you_ goin'?" he asked atin-horn gambler who took advantage of his lapse of alertness to dartpast him. Zack swung his stiff arm and the gambler bounced back asthough he had been struck with a club. "Thar's plenty o' it hyar if yerlookin' fer it," he shouted, raising his pistol.
Uncle Joe clawed his way back again, Tom's double-barreled rifle in hishands, and grimly took his place at his friend's side. Suddenly hecocked his head and then heard Tom's voice bellow past his ear.
"Listen, you fools! Th' fur boat! Th' fur boat!" he yelled at the top ofhis lungs. His companions and the other little group of resolute mentook up the cry, and as the furor of the crowd died down, the answeringblasts rolled up the river. Suddenly a light, and then an orderly seriesof them pushed out from behind the last bend downstream, and showers ofsparks from the belching stacks of the oncoming fur company boat dancedand whirled high into the night, the splashing tattoo of her churningpaddles sounding like music between the reassuring blasts of herwhistle. The two stokers hanging from the levers of her safety valveskicked their feet in time with her whistle, not knowing which kick wouldusher them on an upward journey ending at St. Peter's eager gate. Theirskins were as black as the rods they swung from, but their souls were aswhite as their rolling eyes.
"Thank God!" screamed a woman who was fighting her way through the crowdtoward Tom's post, her clothing nearly torn from her; and at the wordsshe sagged to the deck, inert, unresisting. Tom leaped forward andhauled her back with him, passed her on to Patience and resumed his grimguard.
A great shout, still tinged with horror and edged with fear, arose fromthe decks of the _Belle_ and thundered across the river, the answeringroar chopped up by the insistent whistle. Several red, stringy,rapier-like flashes pierced the night and the heavy reports barkedacross the hurrying water, to be juggled by a great cliff on the northbank.
Captain Newell had been busy. Learning that cool minds were dominatingthe panicky crowd, and that the bullboats were being properly launchedand were ready for use if the worst came, he gave his undividedattention to the saving of the _Belle_. Her paddle still thrashed, butat a speed just great enough to overcome the current and to hold thesnag in the wound it had made. Experience told him that once she drewback from that slimy assassin blade and fully opened the rent in herhull her sinking would follow swiftly. Already men had sounded the riveron both sides and reported a steep slant to the bottom, twenty feet ofwater on the port side and fifteen on the starboard. One of the spareyawls, manned by two officers and a deck hand, shot away from the boatand made hurried soundings to starboard, the called depths bringing alook of hope to the captain's face. Forty yards to the right lay anearly flat bar; but could he make that forty yards? There remained nochoice but to try, for while the _Missouri Belle_, if she sank in herpresent position, would not be entirely submerged, she would be evenless so every foot she made toward the shallows.
Part of the crew already had weighted one edge of a buffalo hide andstood in the bow, directly over the snag, which luckily had pierced thehull more above than below the water line. The captain signalled and thegreat paddle wheel turned swiftly full speed astern. The grating,splitting sound of the snag leaving the hull was followed by a shoutedorder and the hide was lowered overside and instantly sucked against therent; and the paddle wheel, quickly reversing, pushed the boat ahead atan angle to the current until, low in the water, she grounded solidly onthe edge of the flat bar. Anchors were set and cables made taut whilethe _Belle_ settled firmly on the sandy bottom and rested almost on aneven keel. There she would stay if the river continued to fall, untilthe rent was fully exposed and repaired; and there she would stay,repaired, until another rise floated her. The captain signalled for thepaddles to stop and then drew a heavy arm across his forehead, sighed,and turned to face the fur company packet.
The passengers were becoming calm by stages, but the calm was largelythe reaction of hysteria for a few moments until common sense walled upthe breach. Every eye now watched the oncoming steamboat, which hadsailed doggedly ahead for the past two nights and days while the _Belle_had loitered against the banks. Even the most timid were now calmed bythe sight of her lighted cabins as she ploughed toward her strickensister. Fearful of the snag, she came to a stop when nearly abreast ofthe _Belle_ and the two captains held a short and shouted conversation.Her yawl soon returned and reported
the water safe, but shoalingrapidly; and at this information she turned slightly oblique to thecurrent and, sounding every few feet, crept up to within two gangplanks'reach of the _Belle_ and anchored bow and stern. Her own great landingstage swung out over the cheated waters and hung poised while that ofthe _Belle_ circled out to meet it, waveringly, as though it had lost avaluable sense. They soon touched, were made to coincide and then lashedsecurely together. At once, women first, the passengers of the _Belle_began to cross the arched span a few at a time, and sighed with reliefas they reached the deck of the uninjured vessel. On the main deck ofthe _Belle_ the crew already was piling up such freight as could betaken from the hold and the sound of hammering at her bow told oftemporary repairs being made.
Among the last to leave the _Belle_ were Uncle Joe and Tom and as theystarted toward the gangplank, Captain Newell hurriedly passed them,stopped, retraced his steps, and gripped their hands tightly as hewished them a safe arrival at Independence. Then he plunged out ofsight toward the engine room.
The transfer completed, the fur company boat cast free, raised heranchors, and sidled cautiously back into the channel. Blowing a hoarsesalute, she straightened out into the current and surged ahead,apparently in no way daunted by the fate of her sister. Captain Graveshad commanded a heavily loaded boat when he left St. Louis and theaddition of over a hundred passengers and their personal belongings, forwhom some sort of provision must be made in sleeping arrangements andfood, urged him to get to Independence Landing as quickly as he could.Turning from his supervision of the housing of the gangplank, he bumpedinto Uncle Joe, was about to apologize, and then peered into the face ofhis new passenger. The few lights which had been placed on deck to helpin the transfer of the passengers, enabled him to recognize the next tothe last man across the plank and his greeting was sharp and friendly.
"Joe Cooper, or I'm blind!" he exclaimed. "Alone, Joe?"
"Got my niece with me, and my friend, Tom Boyd, here."
"Glad to meet you, Mr. Boyd--seems to me I've heard something about aTom Boyd fouling the official craft of the Government of New Mexico,"said the captain, shaking hands with the young plainsman. "We'll do ourbest for you-all the rest of the night, and we'll put Miss Cooper in mycabin. We ought to reach Independence early in the morning. I supposethat's your destination? Take you on to Westport just as easily."
"Independence is where I started for," said Uncle Joe.
"Then we'll put you ashore there, no matter what the condition of thelanding is. It's easier to land passengers than cargo. But let me tellyou that if you are aiming to go in business there, that Westport is thecoming town since the river ruined the lower landing. Let's see if thecook's got any hot coffee ready, and a bite to eat: he's had timeenough, anyhow. Come on. First we'll find Miss Cooper and the otherwomen. I had them all taken to one place. Come on."
Shortly after dawn Tom awakened, rose on one elbow on the blanket he hadthrown on the deck and looked around. Uncle Joe snored softly andrhythmically on his hard bed, having refused to rob any man of hisberth. He had accepted one concession, however, by throwing his blanketon the floor of the texas, where he not only would be close to hisniece, but removed from the other men of the _Belle_, many of whom werenot at all reassuring in the matter of personal cleanliness. Arising,Tom went to a window and looked out, seeing a clear sky and green,rolling hills and patches of timber bathed in the slanting sunlight. Aclose scrutiny of the bank apprised him that they were not far fromIndependence Landing and he stepped to the rail to look up the river.Far upstream on a sharp bend on the south bank were the remains of OldFort Clark, as it was often called. About twenty miles farther on thesame side of the river was his destination. He turned to call Uncle Joeand met the captain at the door of the texas; and he thought he caught aglimpse of a head bobbing back behind the corner of the cabin. As hehesitated as to whether to go and verify his eyes, the captain accostedhim, and he stood where he was.
"Fine day, Mr. Boyd," said the officer. "Sleep well on the soft side ofthe deck?"
Tom laughed. "I can sleep well any place, captain. If I could havescooped out a hollow for my hips I wouldn't feel quite so stiff."
"Let me know as soon as Miss Cooper appears and I'll have some breakfastsent up to her. If you'd like a bite now, come with me."
"Thank you; you are very considerate. I'll call Uncle Joe and bring himwith me."
"You will, hey?" said a voice from the texas. "Uncle Joe is ready rightnow, barring the aches of his old bones; and I've just been interruptedby Patience. She says she can chew chunks out of the cups, she's sohungry. What's that? You didn't? All right; all right; I'm backing upagain! Have it your own way; you will, anyhow, in the end."
"You stay right where you are, Miss Cooper," called the captain. "I'llsend up breakfast enough for six, and if you keep an eye on this pairperhaps you can get a bit of it. And let me tell you that it's luckythat you're real hungry, for the fare on this boat is even worse than itwas on the _Belle_. I'll go right down and look to it."
Breakfast over, the three went out to explore the boat, Patience takinginterest in its human cargo, especially its original passengers, and shehad a good chance to observe them during the absence of the rescuedpassengers of the _Belle_, to whom had been given the courtesy of thefirst use of the dining-room.
Almost all of the original list on this boat were connected in some waywith the fur trade, the exceptions being a few travelers bound for theupper Missouri, and two noncommissioned officers going out to FortLeavenworth, who had missed the _Belle_ at St Louis, missed her again atSt. Charles, and had been taken aboard by Captain Graves, who would haveto stop at the Fort for inspection.
The others covered all the human phases of the fur business and includedone _bourgeois_, or factor; two partisans, or heads of expeditions;several clerks, numerous hunters and trappers, both free and undercontract to the company; half a dozen "pork-eaters," who were greenhands engaged for long periods of service by the company and bound to italmost as tightly and securely as though they were slaves. Some of themfound this to be true, when they tried to desert, later on. They werecalled "pork-eaters" because the term now meant about the same as theword "tenderfeet," and its use came from the habit of the company toimport green hands from Canada under contracts which not only made themslaves for five years, but almost always left them in the company's debtat the expiration of their term of service. On the way from Canada theyhad been fed on a simple and monotonous diet, its chief article beingpork; and gradually the expression came to be used among the moreexperienced voyageurs to express the abstract idea of greenness. Therewere camp-keepers, voyageurs, a crew of keelboatmen going up to the"navy yard" above Fort Union and two skilled boat-builders bound for thesame place; artisans, and several Indians returning either to one of theposts or to their own country. They made a picturesque assemblage, andtheir language, being Indian, English, and French, or rather,combinations of all three, was not less so than their appearance. Overthem all the bully of the boat, who had reached his semi-officialposition through elimination by consent and by combat, exercised a moreor less orderly supervision as to their bickerings and general behavior,and relieved the boat's officers of much responsibility.
The boat stopped a few minutes at Liberty Landing and then went on,rounding the nearly circular bend, and as the last turn was made and thesteamboat headed westward again there was a pause in the flurry whichhad been going on among the rescued passengers ever since LibertyLanding had been left. Independence Landing was now close at hand andthe eager crowd marked time until the bank should be reached.
Soon the boat headed in toward what was left of the once fine landing,its slowly growing ruin being responsible for the rising importance ofthe little hamlet of Westport not far above, and for the later andpretentious Kansas City which was to arise on the bluff behind thelittle frontier village. Independence was losing its importance as astarting point for the overland traffic in the same way that she hadgained it. First it had been Franklin, then F
ort Osage, then Blue Mills,and then Independence; but now, despite its commanding position on oneof the highest bluffs along the river and its prestige from being thecounty seat, the latter was slowly settling in the background and givingway to Westport; but it was not to give up at once, nor entirely, forthe newer terminals had to share their prominence with it, and until theend of the overland traffic Independence played its part.
The landing was a busy place. Piles of cordwood and freight, the latterin boxes, barrels, and crates, flanked the landing on three sides;several kinds of new wagons in various stages of assembling were scenesof great activity. Most of these were from Pittsburg and had come allthe way by water. A few were of the size first used on the great trail,with a capacity of about a ton and a half; but most were much larger andcould carry nearly twice as much as the others. Great bales of Osnaburgsheets, or wagon covers, were in a pile by themselves, glistening whitein their newness. It appeared that the cargo of the _John Auld_ had notyet been transported up the bluff to the village on the summit.
The landing became very much alive as the fur company's boat swung intoward it, the workers who hourly expected the _Missouri Belle_ crowdingto the water's edge to welcome the rounding boat, whose whistle earlyhad apprised them that she was stopping. Free negroes romped and sang,awaiting their hurried tasks under exacting masters, the bosses of thegangs; but this time there was to be no work for them. Vehicles of allkinds, drawn by oxen, mules, and horses, made a solid phalanx around thefreight piles, among them the wagons of Aull and Company, generaloutfitters for all kinds of overland journeys. The narrow, winding roadfrom the water front up to and onto the great bluff well back from theriver was sticky with mud and lined with struggling teams pulling heavyloads.
When the fur company boat drew near enough for those on shore to see itsunusual human cargo, both as to numbers and kinds, conjecture ran high.This hardy traveler of the whole navigable river was no common packet,stopping almost any place to pick up any person who waved a hat, but asupercilious thoroughbred which forged doggedly into the vast wildernessof the upper river. Even her curving swing in toward the bank was madewith a swagger and hinted at contempt for any landing under a thousandmiles from her starting point.
Shouts rang across the water and were followed by great excitement onthe bank. Because of the poor condition of the landing she worked herway inshore with unusual care and when the great gangplank finallybridged the gap her captain nodded with relief. In a few moments, herextra passengers ashore, she backed out into the hurrying stream andwith a final blast of her whistle, pushed on up the river.
Friends met friends, strangers advised strangers, and the accident tothe _Belle_ was discussed with great gusto. Impatiently pushing out ofthe vociferous crowd, Joe Cooper and his two companions swiftly found aDearborn carriage which awaited them and, leaving their baggage tofollow in the wagon of a friend, started along the deeply rutted,prairie road for the town; Schoolcraft, his partner, and his Mexicanfriend sloping along behind them on saddle horses through the lane ofmud. The trip across the bottoms and up the great bluff was wearisomeand tiring. They no sooner lurched out of one rut than they dropped intoanother, with the mud and water often to the axles, and they continuallywere forced to climb out of the depressed road and risk upsettings onthe steep, muddy banks to pass great wagons hopelessly mired,notwithstanding their teams of from six to a dozen mules or oxen.Mud-covered drivers shouted and swore from their narrow seats, or wadedabout their wagons up to the middle in the cold ooze. If there wasanything worse than a prairie road in the spring, these wagoners had yetto learn of it.