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Show RFVER "Hell, son," said the fisherman, "thaf s easy. Soon as you see one of those boats you head for shore, git your ass on the high ground and put as much distance between you and the river as you can." We'd just come past the Chickasaw Bluffs one afternoon and were lounging in the sun on top of the cabin when we saw a large tow far down the river. Through our glasses I could see that it was painted black and yellow and was pushing thirty-eight barges. I put the binoculars down. "If s the America," I said to Rosie. "Quick," she said, "Get off the river!" It would have been good advice if we'd have had some place to take shelter, but there were no islands or towheads in this narrow stretch, so we rode on down toward the smoke-belching creature that looked like a water-borne dragon. The towboat loomed larger the closer we came to it till we could read her name: it was the United States. We rolled slowly past her bows and her long bank of barges. Then the towboat herself, pushing her load like an enslaved steamboat, ran directly by us, huge and mechanical, the deep vibrating bass of her engines pounding across the water. The prop wake writhed behind her like a wounded copperhead, the haystack waves cresting as high as the roof of raffs cabin. For two miles below the towboat the river was wracked by wakes and cross wakes, as turbulent as a storm, as if sharks and alligators were fighting to the death under the river's surface. The raft lurched through the turbulence like a battleship, knocking the contents of our kitchen around but doing no serious damage. Rosie and I were inspired by our success. We chanted, "We made it!" over and over again, hugging each other close. Memphis, Helena, Greenville, Vicksburg, Natchez-we stopped at all the river towns, but usually we didn't stay very long. We'd begun to feel uneasy -94- |