



Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)









                          THE RIVER'S CHILDREN

                       AN IDYL OF THE MISSISSIPPI

                         By RUTH McENERY STUART

AUTHOR OF "SONNY," "HOLLY AND PIZEN," "MORIAH'S MOURNING," "NAPOLEON
JACKSON," ETC.


    With Pictures by
    Barry C. Edwards

    NEW YORK
    THE CENTURY CO.
    1904

    Copyright, 1904, by
    THE CENTURY CO.

    Copyright, 1903, by
    PHELPS PUBLISHING CO.

    _Published October, 1904_

    THE DE VINNE PRESS




[Illustration: "Upon the brow of the levee"]




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


Upon the brow of the levee

Gangs of men, reinforcing suspicious danger points with pickax and spade

Sipped iced orange syrup or claret sangaree

The brave, unthinking fellow, after embracing his beloved, dashed to the
front

Her arms were about his knees




THE RIVER'S CHILDREN

AN IDYL OF THE MISSISSIPPI




PART FIRST


The Mississippi was flaunting itself in the face of opposition along its
southern banks. It had carried much before it in its downward path ere
it reached New Orleans. A plantation here, a low-lying settlement there,
a cotton-field in bloom under its brim, had challenged its waters and
been taken in, and there was desolation in its wake.

In certain weak places above and below the city, gangs of men--<DW64>s
mostly--worked day and night, reinforcing suspicious danger-points with
pickax and spade. At one place an imminent crevasse threatened life and
property to such a degree that the workers were conscripted and held to
their posts by promises of high wages, abetted by periodical passage
along the line of a bucket and gourd dipper.

[Illustration: "Gangs of men, reinforcing suspicious danger points with
pickax and spade"]

There was apparently nothing worse than mirth and song in the bucket.
Concocted to appeal to the festive instinct of the dark laborers as much
as to steady their hands and sustain courage, it was  a fine pink
and floated ice lumps and bits of lemon when served. Yet there was a
quality in it which warmed as it went, and spurred pickax and spade to
do their best--spurred their wielders often to jest and song, too, for
there was scarcely a secure place even along the brimming bank where one
might not, by listening, catch the sound of laughter or of rhythmic
voices:

    "Sing, <DW65>, sing! Sing yo' hymn!
    De river, she's a-boomin'--she's a-comin _che-bim_!
        Swim, <DW65>, swim!

    "Sing, <DW65>, sing! Sing yo' rhyme!
    De waters is a-floodin'--dey's a-roarin' on time!
        Climb, squirrel, climb!"

At this particular danger-spot just below the city, a number of
cotton-bales, contributed by planters whose fortunes were at stake, were
placed in line against a threatening break as primary support, staked
securely down and chained together.

Over these were cast everything available, to raise their height. It was
said that even barrels of sugar and molasses were used, and shiploads of
pig-iron, with sections of street railways ripped from their ties. Then
barrels of boiling tar, tarpaulins, and more chains. And then--

And then there were prayers--and messages to the priests up at the old
St. Louis Cathedral, where many of the wives were kneeling--and reckless
gifts of money to the poor.

A few of the men who had not entered church for years were seen to cross
themselves covertly; and one, a convivial creole of a rather racy
reputation, was even observed, through the sudden turn of a lantern one
night, to take from his pocket a miniature statue of St. Joseph, and to
hold it between his eyes and the sky while he, too, crossed himself. And
the boon companion who smiled at the sight did himself make upon his own
breast a tiny sign of the cross in the dark, even as he moved toward his
friend to chaff him. And when, in turning, he dimly descried the outline
of a distant spire surmounted by a cross against the stars, he did
reverently lift his hat.

"It can't do any harm, anyhow," he apologized to himself; but when he
had reached his friend, he remarked dryly:

"You don't mean to tell me, Felix, dat you pray to St. Joseph yet, you
old sinner! Excuse me, but dose passing lantern, dey give you away."

"Pray to St. Joseph? I would pray to de devil to-night, me, Adolphe, if
I believed he would drive de