THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
and the pilot house, moving up and down with nervous quickness. Once, when he crossed the deck, I saw a delicate-looking woman stop him with something like anxiety in her eyes, and ask him whether it was “all safe.” “Well,” he grunted, “I can slow down and drop behind if you say so!” The poor woman did not say so. She looked abashed as if she had been trying to do something very mean and contemptible, and the passengers cheered.
Both steamboats stopped at one or two places, to discharge and take on passengers and cargo. But they both did this with such marvelous rapidity that neither of them got an advantage. They had also occasion again for sharp maneuvering to get in one another's way where narrow places in the channel were reached. But luck was now on one side and then on the other, and the spirits of the passengers rose and fell accordingly, now to boisterously triumphant assurance, and then to gloomy wrath and even despondency. The two boats were evidently so well matched in quality and handled with skill and boldness so equal, that nobody could foretell the result of the race. The “Flying Cloud” people could not refrain from respecting the “Ocean Wave” very much.
At last La Crosse hove in sight. The end was near, and many hearts beat with anxious expectancy. The crowd on the deck grew still. Hardly anybody dared to say anything or to make any demonstration of his feelings. But now fortune favored us again. The boats were still side by side, doing their utmost with fearful energy. But they had to make a curve in order to swing to the landing place, and the “Flying Cloud”—was it owing to good luck or to the foresight of the captain?—had the advantage of the inside. Running full speed as long as it was possible, and stopping the engine only when it was absolutely necessary, the “Flying Cloud” touched the dock
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