The herald and mail. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1873-188?, 1875-02-12

we've got 10 land at Jones plRnta'
tion, sir"
The vengeful spirit in me exulted. ]
said to myself, I wish you Joy for your
job, Mr.. B. you'll have a good time
finding Mr.. Jones' plantation such a
night as this; and 1 hope you never
will find it as long as you live.
MIR. B. said to the mate:
"Upper end of the plantation or the
lower?"
Upper"
"I can't do it. The stumps there are
out of the water at this stage. It's no
great distance to the lower, and you'll
have to get along with that"
"All right, sir. If Jones don't like
it he'll have to lump it, I reckon"
And then the mate left. My exulta.
tion began to cool and my wonder to
come up. Here was a man who not
only proposed to find this plantation
on such a night, but to find either end
of it you preferred. I dreadfully
wanted to ask a question, but I was
carrying about as many short answers
as my cargo-room would admit of, so
held my peace. All I desired to ask
Mr. B was the simple question
whether he was ass enough to really
imagine he was going to fud that plan
tation on a night when all plantations
were exactly alike and all the same
color. But held in. I used to have
fine inspirations of prudence in those
days.
Mr.. B made for the shore and
soon was scraping it just the same as if
it had been daylight. Aud Lot only
that, but singing
Father in heaven the day is declining" etc.
1t seems to me that I had put my life
in the keeping of peculiarly reckless
outcast.
AN ENRAGFD PILOT.
Presently he turned on me and said 4:
"What's the name of the first point
above New Orleans ?"
was gratified to be able to answer
promptly, and did. 1 said L didn't
know.
Don't know"
This manner iolted me. I was down
at the foot lgain in q moment. But 1
had to say just what had said before.
We'll, you're a smart one, said Mr..
B. "What's the name of the next
point ?"
Once more I did not know.
Well, this beats anything. Tell
me the name of any point or place I
told you"
1 studied awhile, and decided that I
couldn't.
"Look-a ,herel What do you start
out from, above Twelve Mile point, to
cross over ?"
"I-I-don't know"
"You-you-don't knowP" mimick-
ing my drawling manner of speech.
"What do you know?"
"I-I-nothipg, for certain"
by the great Caesars ghost, I be-
lieve you! You're the stupidest dun
derhead 1 ever saw or ever heard of, so
help me Moses The idea of you
being a pilot-you! Why, you don't
know enough to pilot a COW down
lane"
Oh, but his wrath was up! He was
nervous man, and he shuffied from one
side of his wheel to the other as if
the floor was hot. He would boil
awhile to himself, and then overflow
ard scald me again.
"Look-a- here! What do you suppose
1 told you the names of those points
for ?"
1 tremblingly considered moment,
and then the devil of temptation pro-
voked me to say:
"Well = to - to-be entertaining, /
thought"
This was a red rag to the bull. He
ragged and stormed so (he was crossing
the river at the time) that 1 judged 1t
made him blind, because he ran over
the steering oar of trading scow. OF
course the traders sent up a yolley of
red-hot profanity. Never was man
SO grateful as Mr.. B was because
he was brim full, and here were subjects
who would talk back. He threw open
q window, thrust his head out, and such
an eruption followed as never had
heard before. The fainter and farther
away the scowmen's curses drifted, the
higher Mr.. B. lifted his voice, and
the weiRhtier his adjectives grew.
When he closed the window he was
empty. You could have drawn a seine
through his system and not caught
curses enough to disturb your mother
with. Presently he said to me in the
gentlest way:
"My boy, you must get little mem
orandum- book, and every time I tell
you a thing, put it down right away.
There's only one way to be pilot, and
that is to get this entire river by heart.
You have to know it just like A B c."
That was a dismal revelation to me
for my memory was never loaded with
any thing but blank cartridges. How
ever, did not feel discouraged long.
I judged that it was best to make some
allo wances, for doubtless Mr.. B
was stretching"
JONES PLANTATION.
Presently he pulleda rope, and struck
few strokes on the big bell. The
stars were all gone now, and the night
was as black as ink. I could hear the
wheels churn along the bank, but was
not entirely certain that could see the
shore. The voice of the invisible
watchman called up from the hurricane
deck:
What's this, sir %
Jones' plantation"
1 said to myself, / wish l might ven-
ture to offer a small bet that it isn't.
But 1 did not chirp. I only waited to
see. Mr.. B, handled the engine
bells, and in due time the boats nose
came to the land, torch glowed from
the forecastle, man skipped ashore, a
darky's voice on the bank said, "Gim-
me de carpet-bag, Mars JONES'" and
tha raYt moment we were standino ny,