Fevre Dream Page 0,19

ground out his smoke, and started bellowing.

In a few moments most of the crew could be found aft and larboard, to partially offset the weight of the passengers, the majority of whom were crowded up forward and starboard to watch the race. "Damn passengers," Marsh muttered. The Fevre Dream, now slightly better balanced, began to creep up on the Southerner once more. Marsh returned to the pilot house.

Both boats were going at it hard now, and they were pretty well matched. Abner Marsh figured the Fevre Dream was more powerful but it wasn't enough. She was heavily laden with freight and running low in the water and in the Southerner's wake to boot, so the waves kicked up over her head a bit and slowed her, while the Southerner skipped along easy as you please, with nothing aboard but passengers and nothing ahead but a clear river. Now, barring breakdowns or accidents, it was up to the pilots. Kitch was intent at the wheel, handling her easy, doing his damndest to pick up a few minutes at every chance. Behind him, Daly and the vagabond pilots were babbling away, full of advice on the river and its stage and how best to run it.

For more than an hour the Fevre Dream chased the Southerner, losing sight of her once or twice around bends, but edging closer each time as Kitch shaved it tight coming around. Once they got close enough so Marsh could make out the faces of the passengers leaning on the other boat's aft railings, but then the Southerner kicked forward again and restored the distance between them. "Bet you they just changed pilots," Kitch said, spitting a wad of tobacco juice into a nearby cuspidor. "See the way she perked up there?"

"I seen," Marsh growled. "Now I want to see us perk up a mite too."

Then they got their break. One moment the Southerner was holding steady in front of them, sweeping around a densely wooded bend. Then all of a sudden her whistle started to hooting, and she slowed, and trembled, and her side wheels started to back.

"Careful," Daly said to Kitch. Kitch spat again and moved the wheel, carefullike, and the Fevre Dream nosed across the turbulent wake of the Southerner to go wide and starboard of her. When they were halfway round the bend, they saw the cause of the trouble; another big steamer, main deck all but buried beneath bales of tobacco, had run aground on a sandbar. Her mate and crew were out with spars and winches, trying to grasshopper her over. The Southerner had almost run right into 'em.

For a long few minutes the river was chaotic. The men on the bar were all shouting and waving, the Southerner backed like the devil, the Fevre Dream steamed toward clear water. Then the Southerner reversed her wheels again, and her head turned and it looked as though she was trying to cross right in front of the Fevre Dream. "Damn egg-suckin' idyut," Kitch said, and he swung the wheel a little more and told Whitey to ease up on the larboard. But he didn't back, or try to stop her. The two big steamers edged toward each other, closer and closer. Marsh could hear passengers crying out in alarm down below, and there was a second or two when even he thought they were going to collide.

But then the Southerner eased off herself, and her pilot swung her bow downstream again, and the Fevre Dream nosed by her with feet to spare. Someone began to cheer below.

"Keep her goin'," Marsh muttered, so low that no one could have heard him. The Southerner had her wheels kicking up spray and was hot after them, behind now, but not by much, running a bare boat's length astern. All the damn passengers on the Fevre Dream rushed aft, of course, and all the crew had to rush forward, so the steamer shook to all the running footsteps.

The Southerner was gaining on them again. She was running to their larboard, parallel and just behind. Her bow came up to the Fevre Dream's stern now, and she was creeping up inch by inch. The sides of the two steamers were close enough so that passengers could have jumped from one to the other, if they'd had a mind to, though the Fevre Dream stood taller. "Damn," said Marsh, when the other boat drew almost abreast of them. "Enough is enough. Kitch, call down and tell Whitey to