The Noted Raft-boat 'Silver Wave'

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    After we put the 'LeClaire Belle' with her broken shaft in charge of the Diamond Jo Boat Yard at Eagle Point in November, 1878 I paid off the crew, and took the boat books and my personal belongings to LeClaire, Iowa

     Arriving there on a Friday evening, I left the books at Captain Van Sant's residence and the next day secured comfortable quarters with a Mr. Wilson who lived five miles west of LeClaire. On Monday morning I began a four months' term of school at Browns Corners.

     Mr. Wilson was director, as well as my landlord, and had three daughters (very nice girls) attending my school, so our relations were very intimate.

     Mrs. Wilson was an excellent cook and a very pleasant, jolly woman. I enjoyed the winter very much. It was an excellent neighborhood. We had singing schools, spelling matches, debates, parties and dances for our evening diversion. The winter passed quickly and when school closed the river was open and and the raft-boats were starting out.

     Captain Van Sant placed me on the 'Silver Wave' to fill the same position I had on the 'LeClaire Belle' in 1878. Captain George Rutherford was her master and pilot and to my great delight George Tromley, Sr., was on her as pilot so I could go right on with my pilot-house lessons.

     The 'Silver Wave' was a larger and heavier boat

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than the 'LeClaire Belle' and very hard to steer. Like most boats at that time she had two skeg rudders and only one balance rudder.

     About this time someone building a new boat gave her a basket stern with three balance rudders, and she was such a fine handler that no more skeg sterns were built and when hauled out for repairs all the old boats had their skegs removed and were given all balance rudders. When this change was later made on the 'Silver wave' it helped her greatly both in steering and bucking.

     When I joined her early in the spring of 1879, Henry Whitmore of Galena, Illinois, was chief engineer and James Davenport of LeClaire, his assistant. Dan Hanley, still living in Davenport was our fireman and his younger brother, James was cabin-boy and assistant to Joe Gallenor the cook, where he learned all kinds of mischief and devilment. 'Jimmy' as we called him then, is now dignified and successful lawyer in Davenport, Iowa, and he has not lost any of that spirit of devilment that kept the crew of the 'Silver Wave' alternating between fun and fear while he and Joe Gallenor lost sleep in studying up some new trick or joke to put over on us.

     Mr. Whitmore was not only an excellent engineer, but a fine mechanic. When a young man he spent four winters in the Broadway Machine Shop in Saint Louis, learning blacksmithing and machine work and he held the best jobs in the Galena and Minnesota Packet Company during its successful career.

     During the first half of the season I stood watch with Mr. Davenport and had little to do with Mr. Whitmore as he did not seem very friendly. During late July and August we laid up three or four weeks as the

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Steamer Silver Wave

This steamer was originally called the D. A. McDonald. It was built at LeClaire, Iowa, in 1872. Owned by Van Sant and Musser Transportation Company of Muscatine, Iowa. The author was clerk and nigger-runner, 1879-1881.

...low water would not permit rafting logs in Beef Slough. To fill in the time and partly cover the expense, we ran several short excursions. On one of these, an evening trip, with our boat full of merry dancers, she 'ran through herself.' That is, she broke the wrist pin on the port crank and this let the piston head, rod and pitman go forward with such force that the main cylinder on that side was cracked and ruined. This crash and the escaping steam caused quite a scare for a few minutes; but we kept them reasonably quiet and in a very short time Mr. Whitmore disengaged the broken engine, shut the steam off from it and was able to keep the boat going after a fashion on one engine and took us back to LeClaire, a little late but all right.

     We had to remove the old engine and get a new cylinder cast by Williams, White and Company of Moline.

     Before the new cylinder was ready, Captain Van Sant received word that the Chippewa river was rising, that rafting would be resumed in Beef Slough and to proceed at once to take care of Musser and Company's logs.

     When the new cylinder came we worked two days and the intervening night getting it 'shipped up,' We hardly stopped to eat, and never mentioned sleep till we had her going up the river going again. After this job Mr Whitmore wanted on his watch and arranged it so I stood watch with him the rest of that season and all the next. He took interest in showing me how to do things. I helped him at the forge and anvil, got to be his favorite striker and was proud of it. We made all the stirrups for the wheel, and kept all the mate's raft tools in good shape, and during the summer he made

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several fine hammers and finished them off as nice as any store goods.

     We said Uncle Henry (as we called him) could make any tools required in the engine room except monkey wrenches.

     In those days there was a great movement of 'harvest hands' northwest, from Missouri and Kansas to the great wheat field of Minnesota. On one of our trips we picked up an even hundred of these men at five dollars each for Winona. This fare was for transportation only. They could sleep on deck anywhere and get sandwiches and coffee at the kitchen; only a few of them paid fifty cents for a full meal at the cabin table as they were out to earn and save money.

     At noon the next day when passing Spechts Ferry twelve miles above Dubuque, our main hog chain on the port side let go on top of the after main brace. This let her stern down on the side and put wheel, cranks, pitmans and engines in such a twist we could not roll the water wheel over.

     The pilot headed her for the shore, her headway carried her there and the mate and crew got lines out to hold her.

     Captain Sam Van Sant was riding up with us this trip fearing we might have some trouble with so many deck passengers.

     When the boat was tied up he came back to see the situation at out end and he looked pretty blue.

     Speaking to the engineer, he said, "Well, I guess the only thing to do is to send these men to Winona by rail and then have the boat towed to Dubuque Ways for repairs."

     Mr. Whitmore said, "Captain, you do what I direct and give me some help and I'll see what we can do."

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Steamer Mountain Blue

Originally a packet on the Kanawha river. Was brought him into the rafting business in 1874 by Hewitt and Wood of LaCrosse, Wis. She was later owned by G. C. Hixson and then for several years by McDonald Brothers of LaCrouse. Her last years were spent in the excursion business at Saint Paul and Wm. McCraney as master and owner under the name of the Purchase. She had a long and successful career, and was finally condemned and dismantled by Peters and Son at Wabasha, 1917. She never had a bad mishap causing any great loss.

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The iron where it had broken was five inches wide and three-quarters thick and it was a clean job to weld it with our little outfit.

     It was awfully hot, close in under the bluffs that afternoon, but before the supper bell rang we had her stern back up to place and the chain with that weld held her until she was dismantled many years later.

     We had no trouble with our passengers and they made better time with us than if they had taken a regular packet that made frequent stops and handled considerable freight, and the five hundred dollars passage money they paid added just that much to the net profit of the trip. Nearly all our work was running log rafts from Beef Slough, Wisconsin, to the Musser Lumber Company, Muscatine, Iowa, that owned a half interest in the 'Silver Wave.'

     About this time the Musser Lumber Company and Captain Van Sant incorporated the 'Van Sant and Musser Transportation Company' that continued to the end of the rafting business.

     I remained with the 'Silver Wave' three full seasons; two of them with Captain George Rutherford and one (1881) with Captain Lome Short who gave me great encouragement and opportunity to practice on the river and before the season was over he would let me 'take her' anywhere night or day and fortunately I kept her out of trouble and made life easier for him.

     We had very high water in the fall of 1881 and some landings were hard to make. On the trip we had a raft for the Clinton Lumber Company. At Dubuque I got orders from them to bring the raft 'to our mill.' Captain Short knowing the landing to be swift in high water had everybody up, skiffs and check lines ready

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and the engineer had a clean fire and plenty of steam.

     We got it landed at the mill all right early in the morning. Then the superintendent, Harry McGlynn, came down in ill humor and refused to receive the raft there; said they could not hold it, wanted it up above in Joyce's Slough and wanted to know "why in h--1 we didn't put it there,'" "Because your letter we got at Dubuque told us to bring it to the mill." He said, "yes, but I wired you last night in care of the Sabula bridge to put it in Joyce's Slough." "Well, we did not get your telegram. Don't know why, but through no fault of ours the raft is here and we can't take it back up the river and don't intend to try, so here we are."

     I went up-town and consulted a good, sensible lawyer, then returned to the Lumber Company's office and we compromised. They gave me a clear receipt in full for the raft 'Where is as is.' Then we agreed to leave our kit on and assist the steam 'Chancy Lamb' and 'Lafayette Lamb' in putting the raft up in Joyce's Slough.

     Taking one-half at a time and using all three boats we soon had both pieces up where they wanted them, when they put on their lines and we took ours off.

     We were all done and coaled up ready to start back up the river before dark and everybody was in good humor.

     That lawyer charged me three dollars for his advice. It was a good investment.

     Before leaving Clinton that evening we got a newspaper account of the accident of the little steamer 'Jennie Gilchrist' the night before. The western Union Railway was under water between Hampton and Moline. The 'Jennie Gilchrist' made a few trips carrying freight and passengers, while this condition existed,

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and left Davenport about 8:30 P.M. with a few passengers and some freight on a barge. She passed up through the government bridge all right, but when about up to the location of the old railroad bridge she had a breakdown on one engine and before the engineer could get her cleared up to work the other engine alone she drifted down to the government bridge, her upper works caught and she capsized. Some of the people were saved by getting on the barge and others were rescued by skiffs from shore, but there were some loss of life.

     The 'Jennie' was raised. repaired and had a long and useful career after this accident.

     The 'J.S. Keator' of Moline, Illinois, broke her shaft later in the season. We had finisher our regular work and were ready to lay up for winter when we received orders to go to Gordon's bay for a raft that the 'J.S. Keator' was going for when she broke down. The water was high, the weather nice and the 'Silver Wave' made a quick and very profitable trip, the last in 1881.

     The winters of 1881 and 1882 were my last experiences in teaching; my fourth in the same school at Brownes Corners. I had grown to know and like everybody in the neighborhood. They were very kind to me and I had become so attached to the scholars that I left in the spring with genuine regret.

     In addition to the many boat stores where we purchased supplies there was a well conducted wharf-boat at Bellevue, Iowa, that carried a good stock of boat supplies. It was in charge of a fine old man named Peter Shiplor who had been a clerk on the packets and knew how to cater to the steamboat trade.

     It was handy to land at going up river as we could

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get ice, meat, and provisions aboard in a very short time and Mr. Shiplor always had our mail ready for us.

     Going down the river we would always pull ahead in the skiff and tie up to the wharf-boat, load in our supplies and be ready to pull out to our steamer as she was towing by the town.

     In 1880 there was an epidemic of small pox in Bellevue but we had not heard much of it while up river and on our way down I went ahead as usual with our skiff and got needed supplies.

     It was nearly six o'clock when I got back to the boat. After I saw the stuff taken out of the boat and properly put away I went upstairs and took my seat at the supper table with the captain, engineer, mate and watchman.

     Someone inquired if there was any truth in the rumors about small pox epidemic in Bellevue.

     I told them I knew all about it. That Ben Stuckey the watchman of the wharf-boat had had it and was now nursing others who were sick with it. That Big Jake the colored man who did the hauling for the wharf-boat, was very bad with it. They did not think he would live through the night. That Mr. Shiplor was having a hard time running the wharf-boat as no one would come to work with him. That it was pretty bad up town. There had been several deaths recently and a good new cases. But I found myself alone at the table before I finished my story. I don't remember just what they did call me, but when the cabin-boy heard what I said he ran back to tell the cook and as a result I got no more waiting on and the other 'watch' would not come to supper until I had left the table.

     Then to make matters worse, we tied up two miles below Bellevue under a high bank and cooled down for

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all night to clean boilers. After 9:30 P.M. all the crew except myself were in bed and asleep. I had to stand watch until midnight and then call my partner who would watch until breakfast.

     I soon wrote up the log book, recorded a few bills paid that day and balanced my cash. It was very quiet and I soon got sleepy as I had missed my usual afternoon nap on account of business at Dubuque and Bellevue. To keep awake I got up and walked decks. About 11 P.M. I saw several lights coming down the road around the bend above us from the direction of Bellevue. A little later I could hear several voices back up on the high bank but they were not close enough to make out what they said. My curiosity was aroused and as the voices continued I cautiously walked the logs, got ashore and found a place where I could climb the high bank and found myself in a cemetery close to the party burying the latest victim of the small pox, Big Jake, the colored teamster from the wharf-boat.

     When I roused my partner at midnight and got him up we had our lunch and casually I mentioned the affair I had witnessed in the cemetery and remarked " There may be another before morning. If you see lights and hear voices up there, you'll what's doing.." I said," You knew Big Jake didn't you, Jim?" "Yes, and I don't want to hear any more about him."

     I suggested that perhaps it would be just as well not to mention the funeral to the crew when he called them at three o'clock to wash boilers and pumps up, but when I got up for breakfast I found they knew it all and some were in favor of putting me ashore. Of course they couldn't do that, but I had my breakfast alone and no one wanted my company that day.

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    On long trips we received little mail and few papers. Only a few 'Firebox Reports' [Unconfirmed Steamboat news attributed to firemen] and 'Cook House' [Unconfirmed Steamboat news attributed to the cooks] dispatches were in circulation to kill the monotony.

     Sometimes we made the run from Beef Slough to Muscatine without landing. After delivering our raft at Muscatine or elsewhere we got our kit off the raft and stowed on the boat and aside from stopping at LeClaire (usually) for coal we raced all the way back to Beef Slough with-out landing.

     The 'Silver Wave' could run well when she was in good trim. She needed a good load on her head. On one trip she ran from LeClaire to Beef Slough in twenty-nine hours and thirty0seven minutes. The distance is three hundred miles. This run has not been beaten by any raft-boat to my knowledge.

     There was considerable racing with other boats in those days. Mr. Whitmore was always proud of his boat and did not want her passed.

     If someone reported a 'smoke ahead' he always got busy and wanted to get close enough to read the name even if he could not pass her.

     The prevailing opinion is that racing on the river is dangerous. The movies generally show an explosion of boilers as a natural feature of a steamboat race. This is all wrong. The safest time to be on a boat is in a race.

     The engineer, firemen, mate, and watchman are awake and alert on the main deck. The pilot is taking pains to do his very best steering, the captain is in the pilot-house or close by to give any needed assistance and the rest of the crew even to the 'slush cook' are inter-

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ested and ready to 'trim ship' or do anything else to help their boat win.

     I have never known a boat to explode her boilers or have any serious accident while racing.

     There have been a few explosions - not while racing - that could only be accounted for by the facts that engineers do sometimes get tired and sleepy and when conditions and tired are too harmonious they do go asleep and the water in the boilers gets too low.

     Steamboat boilers must be built according to United States laws, of the very best material and subjected to very rigid tests by the United States inspection service before they can be used. They must stand a cold water test one hundred and fifty percent of the steam pressure then allowed. A set of boilers to carry one hundred and eighty pounds steam pressure must stand two hundred and seventy pounds water pressure test, and this test is applied at least once a year as long as they are in use.

     If I thought boiler explosions a mystery I could not have slept so comfortably over them for fifty years.

     Search lights or electric lights had not come into use during the time I was learning the river. We had kerosene lamps and lanterns for lighting and the only thing we had to help the pilots landing at a bad place or hitching into the raft at night was the miserable old 'torch basket.' This was an iron basket about the size and shape of a ten-quart pail, that was hung on the end of five foot iron handle.

     Using dry pine kindling cut up fine to get a good start we fed the torch with crushed resin a little at a time and then occasionally more wood.

     This made a lot of smoke and some of the time a

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pretty fair light, but it required close attention and at best was generally criticized by the captain and pilot on watch.

     The watchmen were expected to have a barrel of kindling and a bucket of resin always ready so we could flame up the torch on short notice.

     This would have been easy enough but for the cooks who frequently stole our stock to start or hurry up the fire in their big range.

     After running two or three nights without landing, perhaps just as the watchman was nearly ready to turn in the whistle would blow for a wood pile and the 'skipper' would call for the torch.

     Rushing down to start it, it was no uncommon thing to find the kindling barrel empty and the resin pail nearly so. Frequently we would find part of the kindling and some of the resin behind the kitchen range. Of course when the cooks got up at 4: 30 A.M. and discovered their supply (stolen from our stock) had vanished they made the air blue with all kinds of swearing and threats and tried to pin the whole thing on the watchman.

     That torch was the one serious bugbear that made many nights miserable. After electric lights were installed the watchman led a different life.

     During the three seasons I spent on the 'Silver Belle' we only had one bad break-up.

     Captain Rutherford tried to run Cassville Slough with the whole raft in the night and without any searchlight. Captain Van Sant was aboard that trip. He advised against trying to run it 'whole.' He urged Captain Rutherford to tie up and wait for the daylight, but Captain Rutherford was always ambitious to make

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time and kept on. We made the bends and other places all right but came to grief at the head of the island nearly at the foot of the Slough, one corner caught on the island and the opposite corner on the stern caught the bar on the right and before we got the wreck landed in the last right hand bend at least one-fourth of our raft was floating off down the river. Then a dense fog settled down on us that did not lift until nine o'clock next morning.

     By this time the mate had 'the remains' patched in good shape so the steamboat could handle backing, floating, or towing along slow. We had three skiff crews out catching and collecting the loose logs, many of which grounded on shallow places and had to be rolled to deeper water.

     Leaving my partner to stand my watch running the nigger engine, I went with Captain Van Sant in one skiff. We had with us a big, husky negro who was riding down river with us. We soon had him in the water with a peavey and he did excellent work rolling off logs that were aground while we caught and brailed them together and towed them out to the raft when it came along. The day was warm and calm, a line day for our purpose, and we cleaned up every log in sight as we went along.

     We had no dinner, and it was 9:00 P.M. when the boat landed and we all gathered in. Joe Gallenor had a fine supper for us and we certainly enjoyed it and the sleep afterward. I don't know who stood my watch that night, I was far away on the billow. The next morning we started out again but we had secured the bulk of our logs the first day. We rowed

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and floated along catching a stray now and then, the last one in Bellevue Slough, fifty-five miles from where the break-up occurred.

     We had 1200 logs scattered over fifty-five miles of river. We recovered them all and delivered at Muscatine without any shortage and only one day late.

     Captain Van Sant's presence was a great help to us in many ways. He knew what to do and had the happy faculty of knowing where to place each man in the right place and get the most work out of him. He earned the title cheerfully given him by the men on deck when they pronounced him 'A Hero in a Break-up.'

     Captain Rutherford was on the 'Silver Belle' six seasons and she made a lot of money in that time. He was not only an excellent pilot, but a man of intelligence and good principle.

     One evening during a discussion in the pilot house something said prompted him to face me and placing a hand on each of my shoulders he said, "Young man, remember this:

Life lays its burden on every man's shoulder,
We each have a cross or a trial to bear,
If we miss it in youth it will come when we are older
And fit us a close as the garments we wear.

     I thanked him and asked if he knew the author of his beautiful verse. He did not, nor do I.

     We made one long, tedious trip with a raft of lumber from Reading's Landing to Hannibal, in September and October, 1879. The river was very low and Beef Slough had closed down. We took this raft on charter, so much per day, which assured us of a fair profit. We grounded raft and boat at the mouth of Skunk river, seven miles below Burlington. By two days hard work

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we got off in pieces. Then we lost two more days by wind, before getting away from this place. It was slow, hard work putting the raft through the canal as we had to cut it up in small pieces at each of the three locks in the old canal around the Lower or Des Moines rapids which ended in Keokuk.

     We were twenty-eight days on the trip but after all our delays and mishaps I got a clear receipt for the raft from the agent of the Eau Claire Lumber Company when we turned it over to their steamer 'Pete Kirns' at Hannibal. In fact he complimented us on the good comdition of the raft and the time we had we had with it.

     As our pilots had not been running below Muscatine for a few years they sent me ahead to Davenport to secure a 'posted pilot' to go down with us and show them the way.

     Several of the large Saint Louis and Saint Paul packets had been laid up on account of the low stages of water and I was fortunate in getting David LeClaire who had been on the 'Belle of LaCrosse' and was well posted. 'Dave' LeClaire , then a very strong, healthy man about sixty-five years old, was a half-brother of Antoine LeClaire, the founder of Davenport, Iowa. I found him very intelligent and sociable. I enjoyed his company very much and told him so when he left us on our return to Davenport. That was Dave LeClaire's last trip. A few mornings after when his wife called him, he did not answer. He had made his last 'crossing' to the other shore.

     Racing between raft-boats going up the river (usually without anything in tow) was very common, but it was always interesting and often exciting though there was nothing at stake, except the pride of the crews in their respective boats.

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     Captain Van Sant was justly proud of the speed of the 'Silver Wave' and the 'Musser.'

     After we bought the 'Ten Broeck' I soon discovered that when loaded just right she made excellent time going up river, but she would not stand crowding when heavily loaded as she did not have much free-board forward.

     One night on backing out from a wood pile near Fisher's landing to go back up to Beef Slough for our second piece, I saw a boat coming up behind us and apparently gaining on us. I called down to James Stedman, the chief engineer, who was on watch, telling him we should try to keep ahead until we got up to the boom ( about eight miles). By the time he and the fireman got a good fire and our usual steam, the other boat got up close, her bow even with our wheel and we saw she was the 'Musser.' Her pilot whistled to go by on the right but he did not go by. I kept well to my side of the channel, the 'Ten Broeck' got her gait and gradually increased the gap between us and went into the mouth of Beef slough four lengths ahead.

     I warned our crew not to mention anything about it as the 'Musser' may not have been in as good trim as the 'Ten Broeck."

     Now comes the funny part of it. On our next trip coming up we had a very heavy load of fuel and iron boom chains on the 'Ten Broeck' when we landed at Winona and Captain Van Sant came on to ride up to Beef Slough with us.

     While eating supper at the Winona dock the captain gave me and the engineer a very kind but serious talk about racing and he would admit he had done a lot of it in his time, but could plainly see now that there was no sense in it , etc., etc.

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Tightening Crosslines with Spanish Windlass

The lines holding the raft together and keeping it straight had to be frequently tightened in the manner shown. The Spanish Windlass consisted of two light poles about four inches through as the butt ends. One called the 'upright,' about six feet long, was fairly held in a vertical position by one man while another man carried about the ten-foot pole called the 'sweep.' The hitch caught in the bight of the loose line could in this way be wound around the upright until a good strain was secured and, held by the windlass, laid down flat.

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    We promised to remember his good advise. When we reached the upper end of town the new, fast 'City of Winona' came out of the foot of the Slough above Yeoman's mill and was soon headed up for the Beef Slough. She was gaining a little on us. Captain Sam was eagerly watching and soon asked Mr. Stedman, the engineer, how much steam he was carrying.

    I answered, saying, "I have given orders not to carry over one hundred and twenty pounds tonight. Until we get these chains off her head, she will dive when she strikes a deep place if we drive her any."

    By this time the 'Winona' was close up to our wheel and gaining a little. Captain Sam could not stand it any longer. He said to Mr. Stedman and me-"Why this is fast boat. It's a shame to hold her back this way. let steam come up to her allowance and I will try to keep the water off her head"; and he got the crew to help him move some chain back; then he banked coils of cross lines around her bow with tarpaulins over her head and we kept ahead and gained a little even with slowing her down to mount the reefs in shallow water; but when near Fountain City the water came over her bow so strong that captain Sam and his false bulkhead were washed back off her head. We then concluded we had had fun enough, slowed down, let the 'Winona' go by , then cleared up the forecastle, put but her back on one hundred and twenty pounds and turned in. 'Racing' was not discussed when the captain came aboard after that.

    Sometimes, however we raced down stream with rafts in tow. I remember one such when on the 'LeClaire Belle' in 1878.

     We had fourteen strings of logs for fort Madison. The 'J.W. Van Sant' (first ) with fourteen strings of

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lumber for Saint Louis, was close behind us when we got coupled up below the Clinton Bridge, and it was soon apparent that she was gaining on us.

     As the water was at a low stage and only one rapids boat, the 'Prescott,' at LeClaire to assist over the rapids, each captain wanted to reach LeClaire first and go on over with the 'Prescott's' aid, as the second arrival would have a long delay. The 'LeClaire Belle' had fourteen-inch cylinders and the 'Van Sant' only twelve-inch both had the same stroke- four-foot. Not only did the 'Belle' twenty percent more power, but she was a much larger boat and we made every effort to to keep ahead. by the time we were at Camanche we were we were side by each. And a few times the crews had to pry our boom logs loose from the lumber. Both boats were doing their best and so were their pilots, but there was no swearing or calling of ugly names- it was all quiet and orderly as a well conducted funeral. That stretch of river then was wide enough for two full rafts to run abreast all the way to LeClaire. Neither crowded the other on shore or out on a bar; it was a fair test in every way and we were loser. it took over an hour before the 'Van Sants' raft cleared ours at the head of Steamboat Slough. When we reached the LeClaire Foundry the "Van Sant' and the 'Prescott' were starting over the rapids. We had to land and wait until the next day at noon.

     While a lumber raft has more feet in it and weighs more than a log raft of the same length and width, it is easier to tow, because it is of uniform depth and the cribs and strings are coupled up close together, while the logs being of different sizes, the bottom of a log raft is very uneven and rough.

     It takes longer to get a lumber raft under way or to

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check its headway and stop it, but once under way the same boat or one of equal power, will shove fourteen strings of lumber one-fourth to one-half a mile an hour faster than she will fourteen strings of logs. In calm weather a lumber raft will float a little faster than one of logs.

     The usual speed of a standard sized raft towed by a boat of average power was four miles an hour except in Lake Pepin or Saint Croix where it was only two and one-half miles an hour. The speed was considerably affected by the stages of water and the force and direction of the wind.

     A pilots reputation depended almost entirely on the time in which he made is trips, and there was constant effort to get all the speed possible and to lose as little time as possible at the bridges or at the rapids. The owners of the boats did not have to urge their pilots to 'make time'; the rivalry between the pilots kept them all doing their best. It was racing against time and each other all season.

     The engineers and mates deserved a large part the credit for the good time made, but the captain, who was also first pilot, got the lion's share of it while the others got their full share of the blame if the boat lost any time, or was a little longer than usual on her trips. The rivalry between captains in the same line or on boats, owned by the same company, was sometimes bitter.