A CUB-PILOTS EXPERIENCE. &
Mr. Bixby was the simple question whether he was ass enough to
really imagine he was going to find that plantation on a night
when all plantations were exactly alike and all the same colour.
But I held in. I used to have fine inspirations of prudence in
those days.
Mr. Bixby made for the shore and soon was scraping it, just the
same as if it had been daylight. And not only that, but singing—
«Father in heaven, the day is declining,' etc.
It seemed to me that I had put my life in the keeping of a peculiarly
reckless outcast. Presently he turned on me and said:—
* What's the name of the first point above Kew Orleans ?'
I was gratified to be able to answer promptly, and I did. I said
I didn't know.
' Don't knowf
This manner jolted me. I was down at the foot again, in a
moment. But I had to say just what I had said before.
. * Well, you're a smart one/ said Mr. Bixby. ' What's the name
of the next point ?'
Once more I didn't know.
' Well, this beats anything. Tell me the name of any point or
place I told you.'
I studied a while and decided that I couldn't.
(Look here! What do you start out from, above Twelve-Mile
Point, to cross over ?'
11—I—don't know.'
' You—you—don't know ?' mimicking my drawling manner of
speech. * What do you know ?'
11—I—nothing, for certain.'
' By the great Caesar's ghost, I believe you! You're the stupidest
dunderhead I ever saw or ever heard of, so help me Moses! The
idea of you being a pilot—you I Why, you don't know enough to
pilot a cow down a lane.'
Oh, but his wrath was up i He was a nervous man, and he
shuffled from one side of his wheel to the other as if the floor was
hot. He would boil a while to himself, and then overflow and scald
me again.