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Show RTVER hundred yards upriver and I rowed out of its way. The barges were heavily loaded and had scarcely more than a foot or two of freeboard above the water. I passed close to the boat, so close that I could see a deckhand's belt buckle. Riding so low in the water, this tow threw out a particularly rough wake that hit exactly wrong, broadsides, pitching my rowboat up to an almost ninety-degree angle before it crested the wave and righted itself. In the trough of the wake I grabbed the oars and turned the bow into the next wave. The close call left me rattled because I wasn't ready for a swim, but I buried my uneasiness and made a mental note to be more careful. Darkness settled in while I was still several miles from Helena, but the town had a good anchorage and I decided to run on through the dark. Some miles downriver I could see the light at the head of the bayou below the town, but except for the lights and the quiet rushing of the water, I could have been drifting through space. It made me nervous as hell and I cursed myself for taking a chance that I shouldn't take at all, but the lights drew me on irresistibly. The current was strong and close to shore, but it seemed to take an eternity to reach the light. There was a quiet menace in the thick night air and weird forms and shapes lurked in the shadows of the bank. It was hard to gauge when I was opposite the harbor mouth even though the boat was running very close to shore: I made a false turn before I finally slipped into the quiet waters of the bayou. It felt as if I'd escaped a pack of voiceless, ghostly hounds. The lights of the marina glimmered across the water. I rowed to a dock and tied up the boat. There is an old story that explains how Arkansas was settled. A sign at the main river crossing into Arkansas pointed west and said "Texas." Everybody who could read went on to Texas. Everybody who couldn't stayed in Arkansas. -196- |