WHEN the river is very low, and one's steamboat is 'drawing all the water'

there is in the channel,--or a few inches more, as was often the casein the old times,--one must be painfully circumspect in his piloting.

We used to have to 'sound' a number of particularly bad places almost everytrip when the river was at a very low stage.

Sounding is done in this way. The boat ties up at the shore, just abovethe shoal crossing; the pilot not on watch takes his 'cub' or steersmanand a picked crew of men (sometimes an officer also), and goes outin the yawl--provided the boat has not that rare and sumptuous luxury,a regularly-devised 'sounding-boat'--and proceeds to hunt for the best water,the pilot on duty watching his movements through a spy-glass, meantime,and in some instances assisting by signals of the boat's whistle,signifying 'try higher up' or 'try lower down;' for the surface ofthe water, like an oil-painting, is more expressive and intelligiblewhen inspected from a little distance than very close at hand.

The whistle signals are seldom necessary, however; never, perhaps, except whenthe wind confuses the significant ripples upon the water's surface.

When the yawl has reached the shoal place, the speed is slackened,the pilot begins to sound the depth with a pole ten or twelve feet long,and the steersman at the tiller obeys the order to 'hold her upto starboard;' or, 'let her fall off to larboard;'

term 'larboard' is never used at seam now, to signify the left hand;but was always used on the river in my time]> or 'steady--steadyas you go.'

When the measurements indicate that the yawl is approachingthe shoalest part of the reef, the command is given to 'ease all!'

Then the men stop rowing and the yawl drifts with the current.

The next order is, 'Stand by with the buoy!' The momentthe shallowest point is reached, the pilot delivers the order,'Let go the buoy!' and over she goes. If the pilot isnot satisfied, he sounds the place again; if he finds better waterhigher up or lower down, he removes the buoy to that place.

Being finally satisfied, he gives the order, and all the menstand their oars straight up in the air, in line; a blast fromthe boat's whistle indicates that the signal has been seen;then the men 'give way' on their oars and lay the yawlalongside the buoy; the steamer comes creeping carefully down,is pointed straight at the buoy, husbands her power forthe coming struggle, and presently, at the critical moment,turns on all her steam and goes grinding and wallowing overthe buoy and the sand, and gains the deep water beyond.

Or maybe she doesn't; maybe she 'strikes and swings.'

Then she has to while away several hours (or days)sparring herself off.

Sometimes a buoy is not laid at all, but the yawl goes ahead,hunting the best water, and the steamer follows along in its wake.

Often there is a deal of fun and excitement about sounding,especially if it is a glorious summer day, or a blustering night.

But in winter the cold and the peril take most of the fun out of it.

A buoy is nothing but a board four or five feet long,with one end turned up; it is a reversed school-house bench,with one of the supports left and the other removed.

It is anchored on the shoalest part of the reef by arope with a heavy stone made fast to the end of it.

But for the resistance of the turned-up end of the reversed bench,the current would pull the buoy under water. At night, a paperlantern with a candle in it is fastened on top of the buoy,and this can be seen a mile or more, a little glimmering spark inthe waste of blackness.

Nothing delights a cub so much as an opportunity to go out sounding.

There is such an air of adventure about it; often there is danger;it is so gaudy and man-of-war-like to sit up in the stern-sheets and steera swift yawl; there is something fine about the exultant spring of the boatwhen an experienced old sailor crew throw their souls into the oars;it is lovely to see the white foam stream away from the bows; there ismusic in the rush of the water; it is deliciously exhilarating, in summer,to go speeding over the breezy expanses of the river when the worldof wavelets is dancing in the sun. It is such grandeur, too, to the cub,to get a chance to give an order; for often the pilot will simply say,'Let her go about!' and leave the rest to the cub, who instantly cries,in his sternest tone of command, 'Ease starboard! Strong on the larboard!

Starboard give way! With a will, men!' The cub enjoys soundingfor the further reason that the eyes of the passengers are watching allthe yawl's movements with absorbing interest if the time be daylight;and if it be night he knows that those same wondering eyes are fastenedupon the yawl's lantern as it glides out into the gloom and dims awayin the remote distance.

One trip a pretty girl of sixteen spent her time in our pilot-housewith her uncle and aunt, every day and all day long. I fell in lovewith her. So did Mr. Thornburg's cub, Tom G----. Tom and I had beenbosom friends until this time; but now a coolness began to arise.

I told the girl a good many of my river adventures, and mademyself out a good deal of a hero; Tom tried to make himself appearto be a hero, too, and succeeded to some extent, but then he alwayshad a way of embroidering. However, virtue is its own reward,so I was a barely perceptible trifle ahead in the contest.

About this time something happened which promised handsomely for me:

the pilots decided to sound the crossing at the head of 21.

This would occur about nine or ten o'clock at night, when thepassengers would be still up; it would be Mr. Thornburg's watch,therefore my chief would have to do the sounding. We had a perfectlove of a sounding-boat--long, trim, graceful, and as fleet asa greyhound; her thwarts were cushioned; she carried twelve oarsmen;one of the mates was always sent in her to transmit orders to her crew,for ours was a steamer where no end of 'style' was put on.

We tied up at the shore above 21, and got ready. It was a foul night,and the river was so wide, there, that a landsman's uneducatedeyes could discern no opposite sh............