Calamity on the Creole Queen

Calamity on the Creole Queen

by:  The Merry Farmer

The muddy waters swirled around the paddle wheel all the while sucking up the river debris.  The handlers reached out with long rakes to remove the tangled masses of grass and other detriment before it clogged the wheel’s mechanism.  The key was timing otherwise it could be a dangerous job if you and your rake were dragged into the wheel.

Moses Tipton was working the Friday night shift, he and the other boys taking turns in a four man team.  One to hold the lantern, another to hold the person holding the lantern, while yet another held the one with the rake. 

It was never ordered by the Mississippi Riverboat Licensing Commission but after losing several good men the employees decided to implement their own safety program.  They didn’t brag about it and they had to split their wages to perform the job.  However, it was better than no job at all or ending up in the murky deep and possibly one of the first safety programs ever established in America.

Once underway, the gamblers never failed to raise their antes in relation to the number of drinks they’d had.  Consequently, the men below were always watching out for the poor bum who jumped to escape debt or thrown over by a mean bunch.

Moses had traded shifts that night because his buddy, Ferdinand was going to try his luck at the tables.  Mostly, only white people were allowed at the tables. 

Ferdinand could have passed for Royalty.  His sharp good looks allowed him to pass the scrutiny of the bouncers:  Olive skin, jet black hair, velvet vest, fine felt top hat and a manicured moustache.  All he needed was a stake and he’d been saving up for months.  He had proposed to his girl, Sally and he wanted to make a killing in order to set up his own blacksmith shop and a Home - Sweet - Home.

Back in the trenches, Moses and the other fellows were hauling the mess out of the paddles and singing their usual Spirituals and other notable songs of the South.  Over the din someone yelled, "Man overboard!”

In an instant the crew was at the rail.  Lifeboat lowered and lights shined out across the wake of the riverboat.  At first, they could see nothing in the blackness and eddying waters.  Finally someone yelled, pointing, “Over there!” 

In the distance, a disheveled figure disentangled a floating branch from their grasp and stumbled onto a sandbar the Creole Queen’s Captain was renown for avoiding. 

Moses took two of his men and entering the life boat began paddling with all their might.  They reached the sandbar and motioned for the man to come aboard.

The person halted but did not retrace his steps.  He stood reeling and finally fell to the ground.

“Isn’t that the dickens,” moaned Moses.  “Now we gotta go after him.  Joshua, you stay here and keep the boat onshore while we drag his sorry ass back here,” he said stepping off, heading towards the fallen man.

A shiver ran up is spine as the lantern shone on the prone figure giving Moses the creeps.  He prayed it wasn’t Ferdinand.  He approached with caution, not knowing how intoxicated or injured the culprit was?

Five yards away the figure stood up, Moses halted and drew his pistol.

“Hey you, I fell off the Creole Queen.  Can you get me back?” the voice pleaded, wavering from exhaustion of the cold dark waters of the Mississippi.

Moses hollered back, “We don’t want any trouble.  Who are you?  Why did you jump?”

“No worries mate.  I took a wrong turn.  I was on my way to the john and tripped over a rope on the deck,” he appealed.

Moses started towards the lone man, pistol at the ready.  He raised his hand in caution for Dickey to wait and watch.

As he came face to face with the person he was astonished to find it wasn’t a low life gambler or Ferdinand.  It was the Governor of Louisiana.  He could see the bills escaping his tight coat, torn loose by the current and the remains of a fine suit of clothes now tarnished and reeking of Mississippi mud.

He led the Governor to the boat, while he explained there was no way they could catch up with the Creole Queen unless she docked early, downriver apiece. 

The governor sobbed into his hands.  Mud streaked tears rolled down his portly face.  “Well, I have to tell you boys I never expected to survive.  Please accept my deepest gratitude.  You tell me where to send the gratuity for saving me and you’ll each receive a $500.00 reward for tonight’s work,” his voice cracking under the weight of emotion.

Drop-jawed, Moses stole a look amongst his companions and they slapped their thighs in delight.

“Yes sir,” Moses responded.  “You just send it to Creole Queen Holding Company to the attention of Moses Tipton.  I’ll be sure to divvy it up between us, right boys?” he looked at each of his companions directly in the eye.

“Yes-sir,” they all responded.  “We know Moses for an upstanding citizen,” they agreed, their heads bobbing in unison.

“Fine, then it’s done,” said the Governor. “Just get me to the nearest hotel and we have a bargain,” he said as he crumpled into the boat, the waves lulling him to sleep.

Moses and his pals got the Governor to his rightful room at the Paladian Hotel in
Baton Rouge and then went to find a telegraph office.

To:  Captain of the Creole Queen Holding Company, New Orleans.  Stop.  We rescued VIP patron, Governor Lowery.  Stop.  He stumbled and fell from the lower deck.  Stop.  He's safe in Baton Rouge.  Stop.  Meet you at landing in New Orleans.  Stop. 

Best Regards,
Moses T., Dickey N., Joshua P.  Stop.

With no regrets they dug in their pockets to pay for the pricey telegram.

Later that night, Moses wondered if Ferdinand had done as well for a night's work.

[WC: 1000]