Clotel, or The Presidents Daughter | Page 9

responded Toby.
Pompey gave each to understand how old he was to be when asked by
persons who wished to purchase, and then reported to his master that
the "old boys" were all right. At eight o'clock on the evening of the
third day, the lights of another steamer were seen in the distance, and
apparently coming up very fast. This was a signal for a general
commotion on the Patriot, and everything indicated that a steamboat
race was at hand. Nothing can exceed the excitement attendant upon a
steamboat race on the Mississippi river. By the time the boats had
reached Memphis, they were side by side, and each exerting itself to
keep the ascendancy in point of speed. The night was clear, the moon
shining brightly, and the boats so near to each other that the passengers
were calling out from one boat to the other. On board the Patriot, the
firemen were using oil, lard, butter, and even bacon, with the wood, for
the purpose of raising the steam to its highest pitch. The blaze, mingled
with the black smoke, showed plainly that the other boat was burning
more than wood. The two boats soon locked, so that the hands of the
boats were passing from vessel to vessel, and the wildest excitement
prevailed throughout amongst both passengers and crew. At this
moment the engineer of the Patriot was seen to fasten down the
safety-valve, so that no steam should escape. This was, indeed, a

dangerous resort. A few of the boat hands who saw what had taken
place, left that end of the boat for more secure quarters.
The Patriot stopped to take in passengers, and still no steam was
permitted to escape. At the starting of the boat cold water was forced
into the boilers by the machinery, and, as might have been expected,
one of the boilers immediately exploded. One dense fog of steam filled
every part of the vessel, while shrieks, groans, and cries were heard on
every hand. The saloons and cabins soon had the appearance of a
hospital. By this time the boat had landed, and the Columbia, the other
boat, had come alongside to render assistance to the disabled steamer.
The killed and scalded (nineteen in number) were put on shore, and the
Patriot, taken in tow by the Columbia, was soon again on its way.
It was now twelve o'clock at night, and instead of the passengers being
asleep the majority were ambling in the saloons. Thousands of dollars
change hands during a passage from Louisville or St. Louis to New
Orleans on a Mississippi steamer, and many men, and even ladies, are
completely ruined.
"Go call my boy, steward," said Mr. Smith, as he took his cards one by
one from the table. In a few moments a fine looking, bright-eyed
mulatto boy, apparently about fifteen years of age, was standing by his
master's side at the table. "I will see you, and five hundred dollars
better," said Smith, as his servant Jerry approached the table.
"What price do you set on that boy?" asked Johnson, as he took a roll
of bills from his pocket.
"He will bring a thousand dollars, any day, in the New Orleans
market," replied Smith.
"Then you bet the whole of the boy, do you?"
"Yes."
"I call you, then," said Johnson, at the same time spreading his cards
out upon the table.

"You have beat me," said Smith, as soon as he saw the cards. Jerry,
who was standing on top of the table, with the bank notes and silver
dollars round his feet, was now ordered to descend from the table.
"You will not forget that you belong to me," said Johnson, as the young
slave was stepping from the table to a chair.
"No, sir," replied the chattel.
"Now go back to your bed, and be up in time to-morrow morning to
brush my clothes and clean my boots, do you hear?"
"Yes, sir," responded Jerry, as he wiped the tears from his eyes.
Smith took from his pocket the bill of sale and handed it to Johnson; at
the same time saying, "I claim the right of redeeming that boy, Mr.
Johnson. My father gave him to me when I came of age, and I promised
not to part with him."
"Most certainly, sir, the boy shall be yours, whenever you hand me
over a cool thousand," replied Johnson. The next morning, as the
passengers were assembling in the breakfast saloons and upon the
guards of the vessel, and the servants were seen running about waiting
upon or looking for their masters, poor Jerry was entering his new
master's stateroom with his boots.
"Who do you belong to?" said a gentleman to an old black man, who
came along leading