The onward rush of eternal waters
was an idea vaguely floating in my mind. The Indians appeared to have
embodied this idea in the word Mississippi.
Ensminger was a stout manly fellow, of the characteristic traits of
Anglo-Saxon daring; but he thought it prudent not to plunge too hastily
into this mad current, and we slept at the precise point of embouchure,
where, I think, Cairo is now located. Early the next morning the oarsmen
were paraded, like so many militia, on the slatted gunwales of the
barge, each armed with a long and stout setting pole, shod with iron.
Ensminger himself took the helm, and the toil and struggle of pushing
the barge up stream began. We were obliged to keep close to the shore,
in order to find bottom for the poles, and whenever that gave out, the
men instantly resorted to oars to gain some point on the opposite side,
where bottom could be reached. It was a struggle requiring the utmost
activity. The water was so turbid that we could not perceive objects an
inch below the surface.
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