The River Is Home. Patrick D. Smith
and went to the boat landing.
“Hit shore air goin’ to be a purty day, ain’t hit, Pa?” said Skeeter. “When we gits back from the fishin’ this mornin’, I think I’ll go into the swamp and see if I kin git me some snake hides to trade whiles we’re in Mill Town tomorrow.”
“Tain’t goin’ to be no use to go into town tomorrow if’n they ain’t no fish in the traps and on the lines this mornin’. We hardly got enough in the box at home to eat ourselves. But I jest got a feelin’ that we shore made a good ketch last night. You boys put yore arms to them oars and let’s git on up the river.”
Jeff and Skeeter glided the boat down the bayou and out into the river. The water of the river was red with the reflection of the rising sun. Gray wisps of fog floated from the water and into the trees along the bank. The river was always beautiful early in the morning. The air had a sweet, clean smell about it, and even the mud seemed not so thick. White cranes with long legs and bills were standing in the shallow water along the banks pecking at minnows and small frogs. The trees were alive with birds and squirrels, all blending their voices to make a gay musical sound drift across the river. High overhead, the cawing of the crows mingled with the call of the wood ducks coming in from their roost in the marshes. All the creatures of the air seemed to be glad to be alive on this beautiful spring day.
When they reached West Cut, Jeff took in his oar and crept to the rear of the boat to help pull up the fish traps. Skeeter steered the bow into the cove by himself, then dropped the anchor over the side. It was always exciting for Skeeter to watch them pull up the traps. Pa took one stake line while Jeff took the other, and they slowly raised the first trap from the water. With one quick motion they flipped the trap into the bottom of the boat.
“Jest look at the fish in there!” cried Jeff. “Boy, ain’t they some pretty ones!”
Pa was too excited to talk. He was running his hand into the trap and pulling out fish. Skeeter stood up and looked on with glee.
“How many air hit, Pa?” asked Skeeter.
“They’s eight cat and two buffalo in here,” cried Pa.
When Pa had removed all the fish from the trap, they tied the stake lines and threw the trap back over the side. Skeeter drew in the anchor and rowed the boat further back in the cove where the other trap was set. He dropped the anchor again and they pulled the trap into the boat.
“We didn’t do as good here,” said Pa, “but they’s about four good-sized cats here. Now let’s hurry up and git to that trotline out in the river and see about hit afore them gars gits to work on hit.”
Jeff climbed back to the middle of the boat, and he and Skeeter backed the boat out of the cove and into the river. They always liked going back better than they did coming. The swift river current caught the boat and sent it sailing downstream, like a feather floating on the water. They glided out of the swift water and pointed the bow toward the log where one end of the trotline was tied. Just before the bow touched the log, Jeff pulled hard with the oar on his side, and it swung round and pumped Pa right into the beginning of the line. When Pa had the line in his hand, the boat gently swung back around and pointed the bow downstream. Then he started pulling along the line.
The first few hooks he came to were empty of bait, but he could feel a hard pulling of the line a few feet on down and knew that he had a fish. He pulled the line up slowly. It was impossible to see below the surface of the muddy water so, in order to find what was on the hook, it was necessary to pull the line all the way out of the water. Since Pa certainly did not want to jerk any gar into the boat, he was always very slow in seeing what was on the hook. When the top of the line came out of the water, it was covered with a white, silky slime, so he knew at once without raising it any further.
“One of you boys mout as well hand me yore knife,” said Pa, “they’s a fish eel on this ‘un, and I could shore never git him off.”
Skeeter handed him his knife, and he wrapped the line around his hand several times and cut it from the trotline. Then he pulled the eel into the bottom of the boat. It was about five feet long and bigger around than Pa Corey’s arm. “Hit’s shore a nice ‘un,” said Pa, “and hit weighs ’bout six pounds.”
“That’s the best eatin’ they air in the river,” said Skeeter. “I’d heap ruther have hit than cat or buffalo.”
“You mighty right,” said Jeff. “I don’t believe I ever could git me a bellyful of that fish eel meat.”
Pa pulled the boat slowly on along the line and took off two more small catfish. At the far end he thought it had hung on a snag, so he asked Jeff to help him pull it loose. Jeff crept to the back of the boat, and they both took the line and pulled. All at once it snapped from their hands and disappeared beneath the water. “Well, I’m damned!” said Pa. “We shore got us somethin’ here. Hand me the gaff, Skeeter.”
He took the gaff from Skeeter, and he pushed the hook deep under the water to catch and bring the line back up. When he had it again, he and Jeff grabbed the line with both hands and pulled with all the strength they could gather. They would pull up a little and then the line would go back down. They battled back and forth for a half hour and finally succeeded in getting the fish’s head to the surface of the water. Pa grabbed the gaff and sliced the point through the bottom jaw of the fish. They let the line go and both took the handle of the gaff. With a mighty heave they pulled in the fish. It stretched half the length of the boat. The big cat would weigh at least eighty pounds.
“We shore got us one this time, ain’t we, Pa!” said Jeff.
“I knowed whut hit was goin’ to be this mornin’,” said Pa, “’cause I could smell hit in the air. A feller kin jest ’bout tell whut he’s got afore he leaves the house if’n he’ll jest smell the air.”
“If’n we would of caught one more, this boat would have shore sunk,” said Skeeter. “She’s jest about under the water now. How much do you suppose all this fish will weigh, Pa?”
“Best I kin figger is that they’ll weigh nigh on three hundred and fifty pounds with whut we got at the house. And they was bringing five cents a pound last week in Mill Town. We’ll have enough left over after gittin’ the supplies to buy us a few more shot and some powder fer the gun. We’s jest about out.”
On the way back downstream, Jeff and Skeeter didn’t use the oars for fear of tipping the boat too much and swamping it. The sides were only a couple of inches out of the water, and a slight dip to one side would have sent it under. They let the current take the boat, and Jeff used his oar for a rudder. About a half mile from the mouth of the bayou they heard a loud blast around the bend.
“Oh my Lord, have mercy on me!” cried Pa. “Hit’s one of them steamboat fellers, and with this load on here they will swamp us shore.”
“Do you reckon we kin make hit to the bayou afore they gits to us, Pa?” asked Skeeter.
“We’d nary make it, Son,” said Pa. “If’n you and Jeff was to use the oars fer speed you’d turn the boat over afore we got near ’bouts there.”
The blast sounded again, and then they could see the steamboat come around the bend and head straight for them.
“Head her into that little creek comin’ in there!” cried Pa. Jeff turned the oar hard to the left, and the boat began to swing slowly into the right bank of the river. A little creek flowed into the river just below them, and Jeff pointed the bow of the boat into it. All three jumped out into the neck-deep water, and guided the boat behind a clump of bushes hanging over the water. Skeeter could hardly keep his nose above the water by standing on his toes. Just as they got behind the bush the steamboat passed, with its stem wheels churning madly. The waves from its wake rolled into the creek and knocked Skeeter from his feet. Jeff and Pa clung to the sides of the boat to keep the water from rushing over it and turning it over. Skeeter was knocked under the boat and then into the bank. When he came up, his eyes and mouth were filled with the foul-tasting, muddy water. He pulled himself