Research doesn’t have to be boring. In fact, reading period novels has been one of my favorite ways to learn about a historical era. Case in point: Mark Twain’s Life on the Mississippi (1883). Mr. Clemens’ work informed my word-painting of a Missouri riverboat scene in my 1871 historical novel, Transcontinental Runaway.
Female Eastern Towhee
Below are portions of chapters 1 and 2. It’s influenced by Twain’s book, but not entirely. The Eastern towhee, for example, is a voice from my own childhood. Its call, ‘Drink your teeeaaaa!’ also sounds like, ‘She’s right heeeere!’ The picture links to a Wikipedia article, which has audio of its call.
Also of note: this section of my book transpires on the Missouri River where it traverses from St. Louis to Kansas City. Dubbed ‘The Big Muddy’ by locals, it had characteristics and riverboat traffic similar to that of the Mississippi River.
Without further ado, let’s join Kathleen after she’s donned a boy’s hat and dungarees. (This section is slightly edited from the original, to preserve focus on the descriptions.)
Excerpts from Chapter 1
…
“Don’t know why I keep riding this lousy steamer,” a man with a torn hat grumbled. His garlic breath was worse than his body odor. “I hear the rail cars are faster.”
“Thank goodness they finally finished the railroad,” a silver-haired matron agreed. “All the way to Californy! But steamboats are still cheaper for us locals.”
[Kathleen suppressed a nervous chuckle, lest she betray her boyish disguise to her shipmates. Those rails would be her ticket to freedom, if she could remain hidden long enough.]
“I’m surprised we haven’t caught on a snag, the way we’re tooling about in the shallows,” the workman complained. “Why hasn’t the pilot taken soundings?”
As if on cue, two bells pealed from the pilothouse, followed by a third. The leadsman called the fathoms, “Mark quarter less three,” followed by a safe, “Mark three!”
MIssouri River at dawn
Dawn crept into the eastern sky. The muddy river became a pink ribbon crowded by charcoal banks. A black log floated by. A pair of birds struck up a conversation along the tree line.
To Kathleen’s nervous ear, it sounded like the birds were telling on her. “She’s right he-e-re!” one bird called. Its mate returned, “Right he-e-re!”
Kathleen wanted to hide, or run, or do something. But where would she go? Calm down, she thought. Don’t run unless you have to.
A rustle and crash on shore stopped the birds in the middle of snitching.
“My goodness, what was that?” the matronly woman called to a young crewman. His white uniform turned rosy in the sunrise.
“Some of the crew jumped ashore to get wood for the boilers.” He grinned, his teeth flashing white. “The shore’s only a few feet from the port bow.”
“Oh my!” the woman gasped. “I hope they weren’t hurt.”
An axe began to punish a tree trunk; several more joined in. Whack! Slap! Crack!
Kathleen tugged her cap. The weight of her hair pulled at it perilously. She shivered in her thin, brown jacket as the line of passengers inched forward. Clouds overhead blazed an ominous crimson; they turned dark as the sun mounted the overcast and disappeared.
…
Missouri River Cottonwood Forest
Cottonwood seeds, still attached to their white fluff, whirled in the air. New spring leaves fluttered to the deck as the ship swayed, brushing against overhanging limbs. A boy would jump into those trees’ arms and clamber away without a second thought. Before her years at finishing school, so would she. She batted cotton wisps away from her face.
Soon the wood crew returned, scrambling down the bank.
“Put yer backs to it, ya stuffed donkeys!” the foreman yelled. “Get that wood aboard!”
White-shirted crewmen tossed their bundles on board and leaped the gap. Minutes later the great boilers below decks clanged. Steam whistled, bells rang, and the paddle wheels got underway.
Excerpt from Chapter 2
…
A flurry of bells rang out.
“Mark quarter less twain!” the leadsman cried urgently. “Mark and a half!”
“Back the ship!” Kathleen couldn’t tell who shouted the order.
A grating noise rent the air as the ship stuck fast, and the deck shuddered. Kathleen grabbed the railing for support. The paddles churned up sand. Black smoke billowed from the stacks. The pilot roared down his speaking tube.
“Shut the boilers DOWN, you constipated monkey! You’ll blow us to kingdom come!”
Steam blasted up the smokestacks. The deck shuddered again as the stern slewed toward shore. Women screamed, the captain shouted, and everyone raced starboard. Kathleen ducked under the branches scraping the port side of the ship.
The bank was several feet above water level, putting it even with the lower deck. She tossed her bag to the ground and swung herself onto a sturdy branch. Bits of bark clung to her palms as she inched backward. When she ran out of branches, she dropped to the ground.
Back on board, the foreman’s voice raised above the others. “Here, now, get that capstan for’ard. Cain’t you move? Set the spar, before I make you swallow it!”
Kathleen hugged her bag and crept away.
…
Thank you!
Thanks for reading along! I hope you enjoyed the quick field trip to the Missouri River. If you’d like to follow Kathleen’s journey all the way to California, be sure to check out Transcontinental Runaway (Running Home series, Book 1) on Amazon Kindle!
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