800 
POREST AND STREAM. 
[May 20, 1905. 
Floating Down the Mississippi. 
With the Cabia Boaters. 
Dropping around the first bend in the river I was 
soon out of sight of Helena, and in an hour I was be- 
yond all sig-ht of things that I had known heretofore, 
save the yellow torrent. It was a little raw, and rowing 
was necessary to keep warm; but something of the 
river indolence had penetrated my bones, so that I 
could feel the invidious nature of river life. I disliked 
the idea of a change, and yet I didn't really care very 
much. Careless of where I was going, I pulled away 
with long, slow strokes until about 9 o'clock, when I 
was startled by a hail close at hand. 
"Hy there, you!" 
Forty yards away was a cabin boat drifting with the 
current, manned by a tall, dark, rather lanky individual 
with his black hat poised on his head at a most self- 
confident angle. "Come yere!" he said, and I rowed to 
his boat, and was invited aboard. 
"You ain't the man I thought you was," he said, 
"there was a sailor stole a boat from' a friend of mine 
up to Memphis the other day, an' I jes' 'lowed you all 
was him. Nossir, you ain't. The feller what stoled the 
boat was a little feller, dark an' wiry. You ain't the 
man." 
Not only had I begun to feel like a river man, but, 
apparently, I had something of the look of one from 
the distance of a few yards. 
"Sit down awhile, hit's plaguey lonesome floatin' 
along with nothing to do. Hit shore is. Who all 
mout you be?" 
I told him, and then he said he was John Pierce, and 
was on his way to Friar's Point, and that he would be 
glad of my company for a day or two. I had not 
floated on a cabin boat previous to this time, and the 
experience was novel. We sat down inside, with the 
doors closed, held our hands over the fire, and tried 
to remember some mutual acquaintances up stream. 
I thought he was the Pierce whom I heard Mrs. Haney 
mention as her "husband who used to be," but I was 
mistaken, as I learned afterward. I mentioned that I 
had heard of him up at Memphis, and he ducked his 
head with a gesture of emphatic glee. It appeared that 
his glee was due to a- companion he had left at Mem- 
phis, owing to his incompatibility of temperament with 
the woman's ten-year-old boy. 
Pierce proved a jovial companion. He was sheriff 
at Carruthersville for a term, and during that time 
he had occasion, to hunt up various characters of local 
note. One time, he heard that a couple of "good ones" 
were just above town. There was a reward offered for 
their capture, which was why they were "good." With 
a couple of deputies, Pierce went after them, and found 
them at home, behind two trees, with repeating rifles 
against the bark. Pierce had depended on surprise, to 
effect the capture. His own was painful as he tried 
to "slab it" behind a tree that was a size too narrow, 
even for his own thin form. 
"Picking up hundred dollar rewards ain't so easy as 
some might think," he said. "Some rewards has shoot- 
ing' irons two-feet long, and they shoot straight. I 
didn't depend much on making that sort of easy money 
after I'd tried hit onct." 
A big cowhide was on the roof of the boat, and 
after we'd eaten a hatful of hickory nuts, Pierce got 
dinner. From the hold of the boat he took a piece of 
dark purple beef, and sliced it with a keen butcher 
knife. He put a spoonful of lard into the frying-pan, 
and dipped the beef into flour, and then fried it in 
the lard. I was calloused to lard, so to speak, but 
I'd much rather have seen the meat broiled, but the 
odor was delicious. When the meat was cooked, he 
made condensed milk gravy, which was startling, and 
finally brought out some of the fluffiest white bread 
that I'd ever seen. I was ready to eat when the time 
came, and although each process in getting the meal 
had been surprising, and a bit distasteful in appearance, 
that dinner proved a memory that will not soon be 
forgotten. Mr. Pierce didn't tell where he got the beef, 
and one on the river has a feeling of delicacy about 
asking questions in regard to where things come from, 
so I can't say on what the animal fed. But it was un- 
questionably "out-door beef," and as cabin boaters are 
said to sometimes shoot beef that ventures too close to 
the river bank, this beef may have been acquired by 
some of Pierce's friends whom he mentioned having 
met above Helena a few days before. The cabin boater 
is a most liberal man when one is on good terms with 
him. What they get easily, they yield to others almost • 
without a thought of its value, when, such things as 
meat and game are concerned. 
As we were dropping down a few miles below Helena, 
Pierce discovered a flock of wild geese on the east 
bank, feeding down close to the water. He got out his 
gun. My double Bj were all in the skiff, and that was 
on 'the side toward the birds. However, we loaded up, 
my gun with No. 4s, and we drifted along .ten yards 
from the bank with expectant nerves. The time to 
shoot came at last, and then we fired four shots. The 
birds jumped into the air, and away they went to the 
sano bar on the opposite side of the stream, where 
fhey came down still noisily honking about the affair. 
Along the bank just ^bove prigr's Point yj/gre a dead 
pig and a dead calf, for which Pierce was inclined to 
hold the target practice of some cabin boater re- 
sponsible. He said that a favorite way of getting meat 
on the Arkansas with him was to find some one with 
hogs running in the cane. He would kill the animals 
on shares. Once he met a negro up in the swamp 
country who wanted two big boars killed. Pierce found 
them and killed both with buckshot. They were big red 
fellows weighing several hundred pounds apiece. The 
tusk of one which he gave me measures nearly 8j-4in. 
around the bend. 
Friar's Point proved to be a levee town, consisting 
of a few small buildings, weather beaten and drooping. 
I remarked that it looked rather sleepy and the response 
was: "Yas, but you all jes' orter have seen hit New 
Years! Lawse! But they was six or seven men gwin' 
up an' down these yere streets, cuttin' loose with 
forty-fours, like you couldn't think. Yassir, hit's tolable 
quiet to-day, strangeh, but hit ain' always so." ,. 
Living in a long cabin boat six feet above the ground 
on post ends was Pierce's son Tom and Tom's wife, 
who is well known on the river as "Kid." Tom wanted 
to go down the river with his father, and take a con- 
tract to build some shanties at a landing a couple or 
three days' floating down stream. This was agreeable 
to the father, but there was no great hurry. They 
would drop down if the wind was favorable. I was for 
starting on, but they said things would be fixed all 
right, and I'd better stay. 
As we came to town on Saturday night, we were 
obliged to remain over Sunday in order to buy some 
supplies. Just above our mooring place was the ferry, 
consisting of a gasolene launch that would hold ten or 
fifteen men. I noted with wonder that the boat was 
running across with scarcely a wait at the landing, and 
that as many as twenty or thirty negroes would be 
waiting for the next trip, when it returned. I watched 
the boat through my glasses and saw that the passen- 
gers, when twenty or thirty rods from the bank, would 
drink from small glasses which the ferryman han'ded 
them. That launch was a government-license ferryboat. 
The passengers paid twenty-five cents for the privilege 
of crossing in the boat, and they were served with 
liquor when sixty or more yards from the bank. The 
ferryman, it was said, cleared fifty to sixty dollars a 
week, anyhow, and sometimes a hundred dollars, in a 
day. 
On Sunday afternoon we carried Tom's duffle down 
to Pierce's boat. It consisted of a couple of trunks, a 
tintype machine, a box of carpenter tools and nails, a 
mattress and bedding, a tent and boxes and bottles of 
chemicals used in the manufacture of "medicine." Tom 
and his father are river "hustlers." They make a large 
part of their living by sellmg things on the bank. 
Pierce said that one could make plenty of money on the 
river if he had something to sell to the negroes. "I 
carry electric belts this trip," he said. "Look here!" 
With that he brought out a box nine inches long, 
containing a gorgeous red flannel belt, with two zinc 
shields the size of a pound baking powder can top at 
each end of the flannel. The flannel was folded and 
inside was a copper chain, the links connected by iron 
wire, and each end hooking into the backs of the 
zinc. 
"Look at that!" said Mr. Pierce, "Wouldn't that jes' 
make a nigger bat his eyes? They cost a dollar a dozen 
— eight and a third cents apiece. Now, I sell them for 
a dollar each, or trade for something I can sell. I 
like something I can make ninety per cent, profit on 
like I do on them belts. But if I can't sell belts, look 
a-here!" 
With that he brought out some lamp mats, the most 
gorgeous I had ever seen. A mat was just a bit of 
circular blue or red cloth, with a lot of long yellow, blue, 
green or white cotton fibers fastened around the edges. 
"They ain't sO' much profit on these," Mr. Pierce said, 
"but I can sell 'em for a couple of hens apiece any day, 
and hens is worth thirty cents each. I pay ten cents for 
them. If you can talk you can sell things along this 
old yellow gut, that's what you can. I tell you a good 
line to carry. Bible pictures sells brilliant. You take 
a big red, yellow and blue picture now, of angels wel- 
coming a nigger to heaven, and it '11 sell down here like 
giving away whiskey. There's a feller up in Kaintuck 
what's copyrighted a picture like that, an' he's gettin' 
rich like mud on a sandbar. He sells 'em fer about 
ten cents, an' we sells 'em down here for four bits — 
five times as much as we gives. That's business, ain't 
hit? We're here for business, that's what we are." 
Pierce had something to say on most topics known to 
the river. Particularly he shone in gun plays that he 
described. 
"It's never been necessary for me to kill anybody," 
he remarked casually one day, "but I been where I 
thought I'd have to some — yes, jes' about some an' a 
half, I should say. One time, before my wife died — 
that was in '92 — I was ridin' along with her in a buggy 
and we come to a mud hole, one of them wide, deep, 
slimy alligator mud holes. Met a feller from Texas 
right thar. He was a bad man, claimed to be, and 
'lowed around that he'd killed nine men. He had a 
wagon, an' I pulled around tryin' to keep out of the mud 
hole, an' the Texan, he jes said, 'You alls the fustest 
man I ever seen what wouldn't give a wagon the road 
to a buggy.' He-e. You know, I had my gun, a .45, 
right down Q^ seat beside me w}iar I ^lIIu^ carried 
hit when I went ridin' into a buggy. Fore he knowed 
hit, I had him kivered. Yasseh! Plumb kivered, an', 
well, you know, that bad Texan, he jes' knowed he had 
to 'pologize, an' he done hit, he shore did." 
On Monday morning we went up-town and bought 
supplies. Condensed milk, flour, a few potatoes, a 
large piece of lard, and some baker's bread, were 
among the things we purchased. The total came to 
$2.30. Everything was expensive. Prices are far above 
normal back country prices, particularly vegetables of 
all sorts. Having carried these things down to the boat, 
the lines were cast off and a few strokes of the oars 
drove us into the current, and by noon we were drop- 
ping down the river. The boat was crowded. There 
were four persons on board, with two rooms at their 
disposal. The craft was 30ft. long, by 9ft. wide. There 
were five trunks, a bed, a stove, severaf boxes and 
chairs, and a table on board. Like all cabin boats, 
this one was well lighted. Four large windows were 
in the sides, and the two doors, one at each end, as- 
sured ample ventilation, for the cabin boater "has to 
go outdoors every time he wants to turn around," as 
they say on the river. It was particularly true of the 
cabin boat we were on. 
There was a plenty of talk and singing on board. 
Mrs. Pierce was a small woman, perhaps twenty-one 
years of age. She ran away from home when a young 
girl, and had lived 'on the river in preference to a home 
life that meant drugery in the factories. She was 
happy with Tom, and he with her. Her songs were 
not all printable for a variety of reasons, but they were 
not improper from the river point of view. One runs: 
"Oh, honey babe, Ah'm out of down. 
Oh, honey babe, Ah'm out of down, 
Ah'm gwine to catch the Old Kate when she comes down, 
Ah'm gwine to catch the Old Kate when she comes down, 
Oh, honey, when I hear that Old Kate blow, 
Blow like she never blowed befoh. 
Ah know she'll carry me away, 
'Way down South, whar de 'gators play. 
Oh, farewell, honey babe, Ah'm gwine away, 
Ah'm all adrift, Ah'm doomed to stay 
Ahway, Ahway, 
The song was pathetic, under the circumstances. 
Many of the river songs are exceedingly touching on 
account of the impression they give of the people who 
drift through their lives as snags and other flotsam on 
the river. The analogies between the river debris and 
the river people are many, and close. One of them is 
shown in the expression "we hung up in Helena a 
couple of days." The drift "hangs up" on the sandbars. 
Another is: "The tide come and took me down to 
Vicksburg," meaning he got work on a boat, or raft. 
He was like the drift a flood takes down stream, per- 
haps to some sandbar, or to a drift pile in the overflow. 
The weather was rather cold, but the little stove, 
which used 14-inch wood, gave out a great heat. The 
wood burned was choice drift stuff. Pierce prefered 
pine for fire-wood. He had an armful of cedar for kind- 
ling. Toward night, when we were watching the bank for 
a little harbor, he remarked on the sticks and timber 
which he could see. "There's a good one, but they ain't 
no landing here. I bet that. big timber there's yellow 
pine; but that bank ain't no good. There's a pile of 
drift; I guess we could land there, but it looks better 
down toward the point." 
We finally ran into a pocket which was sheltered from 
the current by a point of hard pan, and from the wind 
by the bank and a mass of branches, save toward the 
west. On this side the wind had a clear sweep, but 
the waves would be broken by the swirl of a long eddy. 
As much care was taken in choosing the tying in place 
as in selecting a site for a camp. Much depends on 
the choice. Later on, just above Vicksburg, I had an 
experience indicating why care should be taken. We 
cut wood, and put nearly half a cord on the boat, which 
seemed already fully laden. 
It was a pleasant night, dark and cloudy. Pierce 
wanted to go to a little lake half a mile or so from the 
river, to which a blazed trail led, and we went. He 
had a two-torch lamp on his head, and I followed him 
along the trail. We didn't find the lake, however, nor 
did we see any coons, although we did see plenty 
of trees up which coons had been climbing recently, 
judging by the claw marks. One frightful thing was 
seen. It was a hole in the ground about twO' feet in 
diameter, and fifteen feet deep. The overflow of, the 
river had left a deposit of mud around the tree which 
died in time. The core of the tree rotted out, but the 
thin outside shell remained to keep the dirt from 
slumping into the cavity. Fancy the fate of a man who 
happened to fall intO' one of these places! It has 
happened, and very likely some of the mysterious dis- 
appearances recorded in the bottom lands were due to 
plunging head first into a hollow tree, and drowning 
in the water at the bottom. 
With a view to traffic. Pierce took a walk through 
the woods to the levee on the next day, there being too 
much wind for floating. The levee was nearly half a 
mile distant, and beyond it was as dense a forest as 
the one before it. Down a way was a small steam saw- 
mUl, and a boy gave Pierce an idea of what the people 
would do as regards electric belts, saying some of them 
had pains. Pierce went back to the boat, and later Tom 
visited the mill arid sq14 a belt or two, While Joxn wa§ 
