"Forward, there!" shouted Cornwood from the pilot-house.
"On deck, sir!" returned Buck Lingley, who was on duty there.
"Stand by with the pole."
Buck seized a pole, of which there were several on the forecastle; but
he had no idea what he was to do with it, for he was a salt-water
sailor. Cobbington was sitting on the deck, and saw that the deck-hand
was puzzled by the situation, and took another pole to assist and show
the old salt what to do. At about this time we were driven from our
position forward of the saloon by the overhanging branches of the trees
and the trailing vines. Cornwood had struck the bell, and the
paddle-wheel stopped. But the steamer went ahead until the bow struck
the bank of the stream. Overhead the trees met, and formed an arch
above us, and the long vines were caught in various parts of the boat.
It seemed to me that we were in a bad scrape, and I looked to the pilot
to ascertain if he considered the situation a difficult one. He did not
seem to me to be at all disturbed, and I thought it was not worth while
to make any outcry. I went down on the main-deck. I found the water was
very shallow in the middle of the river, and Cornwood had taken the
side where the greatest depth was to be had, though we were thereby
more snarled up in the branches of the trees than we should have been
if we had hugged the other side of the stream.
At this point the river made a sharp turn, inclining to an acute angle;
and the current flowed by the longest way around the bend. Cobbington
struck his pike-pole into a tree on the shore, and Buck followed his
example. They shoved the head of the boat off, so that she pointed up
the stream, while an occasional turn of the wheel was given to send her
ahead. The vines and branches snapped and twanged as they broke or
slipped from the parts of the boat where they were caught. In a few
minutes we were clear of the obstructions, though we had to work the
boat around the bends, and through masses of trees in this way, at
least twenty times in the course of the forenoon.
The river was full of alligators, and our sportsmen amused themselves
by firing at them, but with no great success, for the wobbling of the
boat interfered with their aim. About one o'clock we came to a
landing-place, where a few logs had been laid and tied into the sand to
form a sort of wharf. On the bank was a shanty, and we concluded to
stop for a while and have a run on shore, as the ground
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