Life on the Mississippi Mark Twain
Chapter 18
 Cub Pilot on the Mississippi 
 
DURING the two or two and a half years of my apprenticeship,
I served under many pilots, and had experience of many
kinds of steamboatmen and many varieties of steamboats;
for it was not always convenient for Mr. Bixby to have me
with him, and in such cases he sent me with somebody else.
I am to this day profiting somewhat by that experience;
for in that brief, sharp schooling, I got personally and familiarly
acquainted with about all the different types of human nature
that are to be found in fiction, biography, or history.
The fact is daily borne in upon me, that the average shore-employment
requires as much as forty years to equip a man with this sort
of an education. When I say I am still profiting by this thing,
I do not mean that it has constituted me a judge of men--
no, it has not done that; for judges of men are born, not made.
My profit is various in kind and degree; but the feature of it
which I value most is the zest which that early experience has
given to my later reading. When I find a well-drawn character
in fiction or biography, I generally take a warm personal
interest in him, for the reason that I have known him before--
met him on the river.
 
The figure that comes before me oftenest, out of the shadows of that
vanished time, is that of Brown, of the steamer 'Pennsylvania'--the man
referred to in a former chapter, whose memory was so good and tiresome.
He was a middle-aged, long, slim, bony, smooth-shaven, horse-faced, ignorant,
stingy, malicious, snarling, fault hunting, mote-magnifying tyrant.
I early got the habit of coming on watch with dread at my heart.
No matter how good a time I might have been having with the off-watch below,
and no matter how high my spirits might be when I started aloft, my soul
became lead in my body the moment I approached the pilot-house.
 
I still remember the first time I ever entered the presence of that man.
The boat had backed out from St. Louis and was 'straightening down;'
I ascended to the pilot-house in high feather, and very proud
to be semi-officially a member of the executive family of so fast
and famous a boat. Brown was at the wheel. I paused in the middle
of the room, all fixed to make my bow, but Brown did not look around.
I thought he took a furtive glance at me out of the corner of his eye,
but as not even this notice was repeated, I judged I had been mistaken.
By this time he was picking his way among some dangerous 'breaks' abreast
the woodyards; therefore it would not be proper to interrupt him; so I
stepped softly to the high bench and took a seat.
 
There was silence for ten minutes; then my new boss turned
and inspected me deliberately and painstakingly from head
to heel for about--as it seemed to me--a quarter of an hour.
After which he removed his countenance and I saw it no more
for some seconds; then it came around once more, and this
question greeted me--
 
'Are you Horace Bigsby's cub?'
 
'Yes, sir.'
 
After this there was a pause and another inspection. Then--
 
'What's your name?'
 
I told him. He repeated it after me. It was probably the only
thing he ever forgot; for although I was with him many months
he never addressed himself to me in any other way than 'Here!'
and then his command followed.
 
'Where was you born?'
 
'In Florida, Missouri.'
 
A pause. Then--
 
'Dern sight better staid there!'
 
By means of a dozen or so of pretty direct questions, he pumped
my family history out of me.
 
The leads were going now, in the first crossing. This interrupted
the inquest. When the leads had been laid in, he resumed--
 
'How long you been on the river?'
 
I told him. After a pause--
 
'Where'd you get them shoes?'
 
I gave him the information.
 
'Hold up your foot!'
 
I did so. He stepped back, examined the shoe minutely and contemptuously,
scratching his head thoughtfully, tilting his high sugar-loaf hat well forward
to facilitate the operation, then ejaculated, 'Well, I'll be dod derned!'
and returned to his wheel.
 
What occasion there was to be dod derned about it is a thing
which is still as much of a mystery to me now as it was then.
It must have been all of fifteen minutes--fifteen minutes
of dull, homesick silence--before that long horse-face
swung round upon me again--and then, what a change!
It was as red as fire, and every muscle in it was working.
Now came this shriek--
 
'Here!--You going to set there all day?'
 
I lit in the middle of the floor, shot there by the electric
suddenness of the surprise. As soon as I could get my voice I said,
apologetically:--'I have had no orders, sir.'
 
'You've had no ORDERS! My, what a fine bird we are! We must have ORDERS!
Our father was a GENTLEMAN--owned slaves--and we've been to SCHOOL.
Yes, WE are a gentleman, TOO, and got to have ORDERS! ORDERS, is it?
ORDERS is what you want! Dod dern my skin, I'LL learn you to swell yourself
up and blow around here about your dod-derned ORDERS! G'way from the wheel!
(I had approached it without knowing it.)
 
I moved back a step or two, and stood as in a dream, all my senses
stupefied by this frantic assault.
 
'What you standing there for? Take that ice-pitcher down to
the texas-tender-come, move along, and don't you be all day about it!'
 
The moment I got back to the pilot-house, Brown said--
 
'Here! What was you doing down there all this time?'
 
'I couldn't find the texas-tender; I had to go all the way to the pantry.'
 
'Derned likely story! Fill up the stove.'
 
I proceeded to do so. He watched me like a cat.
Presently he shouted--
 
'Put down that shovel? Deadest numskull I ever saw--
ain't even got sense enough to load up a stove.
 
All through the watch this sort of thing went on. Yes, and the
subsequent watches were much like it, during a stretch of months.
As I have said, I soon got the habit of coming on duty with dread.
The moment I was in the presence, even in the darkest night,
I could feel those yellow eyes upon me, and knew their owner
was watching for a pretext to spit out some venom on me.
Preliminarily he would say-
 
'Here! Take the wheel.'
 
Two minutes later--
 
'WHERE in the nation you going to? Pull her down! pull her down!'
 
After another moment--
 
'Say! You going to hold her all day? Let her go--meet her! meet her!'
 
Then he would jump from the bench, snatch the wheel from me,
and meet her himself, pouring out wrath upon me all the time.
 
George Ritchie was the other pilot's cub. He was having
good times now; for his boss, George Ealer, was as kindhearted
as Brown wasn't. Ritchie had steeled for Brown the season before;
consequently he knew exactly how to entertain himself and plague me,
all by the one operation. Whenever I took the wheel for a moment
on Ealer's watch, Ritchie would sit back on the bench and play Brown,
with continual ejaculations of 'Snatch her! snatch her!
Derndest mud-cat I ever saw!' 'Here! Where you going NOW?
Going to run over that snag?' 'Pull her DOWN ! Don't you hear me?
Pull her DOWN!' 'There she goes! JUST as I expected!
I TOLD you not to cramp that reef G'way from the wheel!'
 
So I always had a rough time of it, no matter whose watch it was;
and sometimes it seemed to me that Ritchie's good-natured badgering
was pretty nearly as aggravating as Brown's dead-earnest nagging.
 
I often wanted to kill Brown, but this would not answer.
A cub had to take everything his boss gave, in the way of
vigorous comment and criticism; and we all believed that there
was a United States law making it a penitentiary offense to
strike or threaten a pilot who was on duty. However, I could
IMAGINE myself killing Brown; there was no law against that;
and that was the thing I used always to do the moment I was abed.
Instead of going over my river in my mind as was my duty,
I threw business aside for pleasure, and killed Brown.
I killed Brown every night for months; not in old, stale,
commonplace ways, but in new and picturesque ones;--ways that were
sometimes surprising for freshness of design and ghastliness of
situation and environment.
 
Brown was ALWAYS watching for a pretext to find fault;
and if he could find no plausible pretext, he would invent one.
He would scold you for shaving a shore, and for not shaving it;
for hugging a bar, and for not hugging it; for 'pulling down'
when not invited, and for not pulling down when not invited;
for firing up without orders, and for waiting FOR orders. In a word,
it was his invariable rule to find fault with EVERYTHING you did;
and another invariable rule of his was to throw all his remarks
(to you) into the form of an insult.
 
One day we were approaching New Madrid, bound down and heavily laden.
Brown was at one side of the wheel, steering; I was at the other,
standing by to 'pull down' or 'shove up.' He cast a furtive glance at me
every now and then. I had long ago learned what that meant; viz., he was
trying to invent a trap for me. I wondered what shape it was going to take.
By and by he stepped back from the wheel and said in his usual snarly way--
 
'Here!--See if you've got gumption enough to round her to.'
 
This was simply BOUND to be a success; nothing could prevent it;
for he had never allowed me to round the boat to before;
consequently, no matter how I might do the thing, he could
find free fault with it. He stood back there with his greedy
eye on me, and the result was what might have been foreseen:
I lost my head in a quarter of a minute, and didn't know what I
was about; I started too early to bring the boat around,
but detected a green gleam of joy in Brown's eye, and corrected
my mistake; I started around once more while too high up,
but corrected myself again in time; I made other false moves,
and still managed to save myself; but at last I grew so confused
and anxious that I tumbled into the very worst blunder of all--
I got too far down before beginning to fetch the boat around.
Brown's chance was come.
 
His face turned red with passion; he made one bound,
hurled me across the house with a sweep of his arm,
spun the wheel down, and began to pour out a stream of
vituperation upon me which lasted till he was out of breath.
In the course of this speech he called me all the different
kinds of hard names he could think of, and once or twice I
thought he was even going to swear--but he didn't this time.
'Dod dern' was the nearest he ventured to the luxury of swearing,
for he had been brought up with a wholesome respect for future
fire and brimstone.
 
That was an uncomfortable hour; for there was a big audience
on the hurricane deck. When I went to bed that night,
I killed Brown in seventeen different ways-all of them new.
 
 
 
 
  Chapter 19
 Brown and I Exchange Compliments
 
Two trips later, I got into serious trouble. Brown was steering;
I was 'pulling down.' My younger brother appeared on the hurricane deck,
and shouted to Brown to stop at some landing or other a mile or so below.
Brown gave no intimation that he had heard anything. But that was
his way: he never condescended to take notice of an under clerk.
The wind was blowing; Brown was deaf (although he always pretended
he wasn't), and I very much doubted if he had heard the order.
If I had two heads, I would have spoken; but as I had only one, it seemed
judicious to take care of it; so I kept still.
 
Presently, sure enough, we went sailing by that plantation.
Captain Klinefelter appeared on the deck, and said--
 
'Let her come around, sir, let her come around.
Didn't Henry tell you to land here?'
 
'NO, sir!'
 
'I sent him up to do, it.'
 
'He did come up; and that's all the good it done, the dod-derned fool.
He never said anything.'
 
'Didn't YOU hear him?' asked the captain of me.
 
Of course I didn't want to be mixed up in this business,
but there was no way to avoid it; so I said--
 
'Yes, sir.'
 
I knew what Brown's next remark would be, before he uttered it; it was--
 
'Shut your mouth! you never heard anything of the kind.'
 
I closed my mouth according to instructions. An hour later,
Henry entered the pilot-house, unaware of what had been going on.
He was a thoroughly inoffensive boy, and I was sorry to see
him come, for I knew Brown would have no pity on him.
Brown began, straightway--
 
'Here! why didn't you tell me we'd got to land at that plantation?'
 
'I did tell you, Mr. Brown.'
 
'It's a lie!'
 
I said--
 
'You lie, yourself. He did tell you.'
 
Brown glared at me in unaffected surprise; and for as much as a moment
he was entirely speechless; then he shouted to me--
 
'I'll attend to your case in half a minute!' then to Henry,
'And you leave the pilot-house; out with you!'
 
It was pilot law, and must be obeyed. The boy started out,
and even had his foot on the upper step outside the door, when Brown,
with a sudden access of fury, picked up a ten-pound lump of coal
and sprang after him; but I was between, with a heavy stool,
and I hit Brown a good honest blow which stretched-him out.
 
I had committed the crime of crimes--I had lifted my hand against
a pilot on duty! I supposed I was booked for the penitentiary sure,
and couldn't be booked any surer if I went on and squared my long account
with this person while I had the chance; consequently I stuck to him
and pounded him with my fists a considerable time--I do not know how long,
the pleasure of it probably made it seem longer than it really was;--
but in the end he struggled free and jumped up and sprang to the wheel:
a very natural solicitude, for, all this time, here was this steamboat
tearing down the river at the rate of fifteen miles an hour and nobody at
the helm! However, Eagle Bend was two miles wide at this bank-full stage,
and correspondingly long and deep; and the boat was steering herself
straight down the middle and taking no chances. Still, that was only luck--
a body MIGHT have found her charging into the woods.
 
Perceiving, at a glance, that the 'Pennsylvania' was in no danger,
Brown gathered up the big spy-glass, war-club fashion, and ordered
me out of the pilot-house with more than Comanche bluster.
But I was not afraid of him now; so, instead of going, I tarried,
and criticized his grammar; I reformed his ferocious speeches for him,
and put them into good English, calling his attention to the advantage
of pure English over the bastard dialect of the Pennsylvanian
collieries whence he was extracted. He could have done his part
to admiration in a cross-fire of mere vituperation, of course;
but he was not equipped for this species of controversy;
so he presently laid aside his glass and took the wheel,
muttering and shaking his head; and I retired to the bench.
The racket had brought everybody to the hurricane deck, and I trembled
when I saw the old captain looking up from the midst of the crowd.
I said to myself, 'Now I AM done for!'--For although, as a rule,
he was so fatherly and indulgent toward the boat's family,
and so patient of minor shortcomings, he could be stern enough when
the fault was worth it.
 
I tried to imagine what he WOULD do to a cub pilot who had been guilty
of such a crime as mine, committed on a boat guard-deep with costly freight
and alive with passengers. Our watch was nearly ended. I thought I would
go and hide somewhere till I got a chance to slide ashore. So I slipped
out of the pilot-house, and down the steps, and around to the texas door--
and was in the act of gliding within, when the captain confronted me!
I dropped my head, and he stood over me in silence a moment or two,
then said impressively--
 
'Follow me.'
 
I dropped into his wake; he led the way to his parlor in the forward
end of the texas. We were alone, now. He closed the after door;
then moved slowly to the forward one and closed that. He sat down;
I stood before him. He looked at me some little time, then said--
 
'So you have been fighting, Mr. Brown?'
 
I answered meekly--
 
'Yes, sir.'
 
'Do you know that that is a very serious matter?'
 
'Yes, sir.'
 
'Are you aware that this boat was plowing down the river fully
five minutes with no one at the wheel?'
 
'Yes, sir.'
 
'Did you strike him first?'
 
'Yes, sir.'
 
'What with?'
 
'A stool, sir.'
 
'Hard?'
 
'Middling, sir.'
 
'Did it knock him down?'
 
'He--he fell, sir.'
 
'Did you follow it up? Did you do anything further?'
 
'Yes, sir.'
 
'What did you do?'
 
'Pounded him, sir.'
 
'Pounded him?'
 
'Yes, sir.'
 
'Did you pound him much?--that is, severely?'
 
'One might call it that, sir, maybe.'
 
'I'm deuced glad of it! Hark ye, never mention that I said that.
You have been guilty of a great crime; and don't you ever be
guilty of it again, on this boat. BUT--lay for him ashore!
Give him a good sound thrashing, do you hear? I'll pay the expenses.
Now go--and mind you, not a word of this to anybody. Clear out with you!--
you've been guilty of a great crime, you whelp!'
 
I slid out, happy with the sense of a close shave and a mighty deliverance;
and I heard him laughing to himself and slapping his fat thighs after I had
closed his door.
 
When Brown came off watch he went straight to the captain,
who was talking with some passengers on the boiler deck,
and demanded that I be put ashore in New Orleans--and added--
 
'I'll never turn a wheel on this boat again while that cub stays.'
 
The captain said--
 
'But he needn't come round when you are on watch, Mr. Brown.
 
'I won't even stay on the same boat with him. One of us has
got to go ashore.'
 
'Very well,' said the captain, 'let it be yourself;'
and resumed his talk with the passengers.
 
During the brief remainder of the trip, I knew how an emancipated slave feels;
for I was an emancipated slave myself. While we lay at landings,
I listened to George Ealer's flute; or to his readings from his two bibles,
that is to say, Goldsmith and Shakespeare; or I played chess with him--
and would have beaten him sometimes, only he always took back his last move
and ran the game out differently.