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Authors: Benton Rain Patterson
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sprang a leak below Baton Rouge and Captain Cannon had to reduce the boat’s speed while dangerous, makeshift repairs were made (Library of Congress).
deck that projected past the boat’s hull. In the fresh night air, Wiest soon regained consciousness and when his head cleared, he reported what he had discovered in the one good glance that he had got.
One of the group that was gathered around him suggested putting small pieces of hemp, a little at a time, into the No. 4 boiler’s water line — a trick that probably had been performed in engine rooms before. The bits of hemp packing, suspended in the water that was leaking through the perforations, would lodge themselves in the holes and stop them up. All agreed it was worth a try.
The engineers forced the fragments of hemp packing, which they chopped into small bits, into the intake suction valve, then restarted the intake pump, sending the hemp fibers coursing through the water line. They switched off the pump and inserted more hemp into the line and again started the pump, fixing their eyes on the gauges. After several applications of hemp into the water line, the gauges finally showed that the pressure in the boiler had stopped falling and had gradually begun rising. The hemp fibers had become minuscule fingers in the dike. 5
The Lee was now just above Plaquemine, Louisiana, a community on the west bank of the river, and was steaming for Baton Rouge. Although the hour was past midnight, excited spectators had climbed into skiffs and put out from the riverbank at Plaquemine, battling the Lee ’s wake to hail and cheer the grand steamer and its crew. They would soon also be cheering the Natchez , which could be seen from the stern of the Lee by the glow of its furnaces when their doors were opened. It was only about four hundred yards behind the Lee , which was increasing its speed to regain the time it had lost during the latest emergency.
Beset by worry over the condition of his vessel, Captain Cannon was having doubts about continuing the race. Still on the hurricane deck, he called his old friend John Smoker over to him and asked him what he thought about ending the race at Baton Rouge and declaring the Robert E. Lee the winner to that point. Smoker didn’t think much of the idea. “As long as we’re ahead,” he responded, “we’d better keep so.” Thus encouraged, Cannon gave up the thought of stopping, for the present anyway, although he continued to worry.
With the Natchez hot on its heels, the Lee passed Baton Rouge, on the east bank of the river, about three o’clock in the morning on Friday, July 1. Beneath the lights on the wharf clumps of bleary-eyed spectators watched as the two boats steamed past, first the Robert E. Lee and minutes later the pursuing Natchez . By the time the Lee reached Bayou Sara, just above Baton Rouge, it was ten minutes ahead of the Natchez , having made it that far in ten hours and twenty-six minutes.
The reporter from the St. Louis Republican on board the Robert E. Lee was as wide awake as its captain, recording the events of the race and the passing scenes observed from the vessel’s decks:
The scene from time of departure till dark ... baffles description. As we steamed along the watery race track, the whole country on both sides of the river seemed alive with a strange excitement expressed in a variety of gestures, the waving of handkerchiefs, hats, running along the river shore as if to encourage the panting steamer, and now and then far off shouts come cheeringly over the waters, and were plainly heard above the roaring of the fires, the clatter of machinery, the dashing of the waters and the rushing of steam. All the life in the vicinity of the river appeared to be thoroughly aroused into the unusual activity by this struggle of two steamboats for the palm of speed. The settlements and plantations along the coast as we passed turned out their whole forces, and seemed to have taken a holiday in honor of our
deck that projected past the boat’s hull. In the fresh night air, Wiest soon regained consciousness and when his head cleared, he reported what he had discovered in the one good glance that he had got.
One of the group that was gathered around him suggested putting small pieces of hemp, a little at a time, into the No. 4 boiler’s water line — a trick that probably had been performed in engine rooms before. The bits of hemp packing, suspended in the water that was leaking through the perforations, would lodge themselves in the holes and stop them up. All agreed it was worth a try.
The engineers forced the fragments of hemp packing, which they chopped into small bits, into the intake suction valve, then restarted the intake pump, sending the hemp fibers coursing through the water line. They switched off the pump and inserted more hemp into the line and again started the pump, fixing their eyes on the gauges. After several applications of hemp into the water line, the gauges finally showed that the pressure in the boiler had stopped falling and had gradually begun rising. The hemp fibers had become minuscule fingers in the dike. 5
The Lee was now just above Plaquemine, Louisiana, a community on the west bank of the river, and was steaming for Baton Rouge. Although the hour was past midnight, excited spectators had climbed into skiffs and put out from the riverbank at Plaquemine, battling the Lee ’s wake to hail and cheer the grand steamer and its crew. They would soon also be cheering the Natchez , which could be seen from the stern of the Lee by the glow of its furnaces when their doors were opened. It was only about four hundred yards behind the Lee , which was increasing its speed to regain the time it had lost during the latest emergency.
Beset by worry over the condition of his vessel, Captain Cannon was having doubts about continuing the race. Still on the hurricane deck, he called his old friend John Smoker over to him and asked him what he thought about ending the race at Baton Rouge and declaring the Robert E. Lee the winner to that point. Smoker didn’t think much of the idea. “As long as we’re ahead,” he responded, “we’d better keep so.” Thus encouraged, Cannon gave up the thought of stopping, for the present anyway, although he continued to worry.
With the Natchez hot on its heels, the Lee passed Baton Rouge, on the east bank of the river, about three o’clock in the morning on Friday, July 1. Beneath the lights on the wharf clumps of bleary-eyed spectators watched as the two boats steamed past, first the Robert E. Lee and minutes later the pursuing Natchez . By the time the Lee reached Bayou Sara, just above Baton Rouge, it was ten minutes ahead of the Natchez , having made it that far in ten hours and twenty-six minutes.
The reporter from the St. Louis Republican on board the Robert E. Lee was as wide awake as its captain, recording the events of the race and the passing scenes observed from the vessel’s decks:
The scene from time of departure till dark ... baffles description. As we steamed along the watery race track, the whole country on both sides of the river seemed alive with a strange excitement expressed in a variety of gestures, the waving of handkerchiefs, hats, running along the river shore as if to encourage the panting steamer, and now and then far off shouts come cheeringly over the waters, and were plainly heard above the roaring of the fires, the clatter of machinery, the dashing of the waters and the rushing of steam. All the life in the vicinity of the river appeared to be thoroughly aroused into the unusual activity by this struggle of two steamboats for the palm of speed. The settlements and plantations along the coast as we passed turned out their whole forces, and seemed to have taken a holiday in honor of our
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