nearly midnight before
I had no plans for the evening , and retain now only slight recollection as to the happenings of the next few hours , which I passed quietly smoking in the darkened pilot house , conversing occasionally with Thockmorton , who clung to the wheel , carefully guiding his struggling boat through the night-draped waters . The skill with which he found passage through the enshrouding gloom , guided by signs invisible to my eyes , aided only by a fellow busily casting a lead line in the bows , and chanting the depth of water , was amazing . Seemingly every flitting shadow brought its message , every faint glimmer of starlight pointed the way to safety . It must have been nearly midnight before I finally wearied of this , and decided to seek a few hours ' rest below , descending the short ladder , and walking forward along the open deck for one last glance ahead . Some time the next day we were to be in St. Louis , and this expectation served to brighten my thoughts . It was a dark night , but with a clear sky , the myriad of stars overhead reflecting their lights along the river surface , and bringing into bold relief the dense shadows of the shores on either side . The boat , using barely enough power to afford steering way , swept majestically down stream , borne by the force of the current , which veered from bank to bank .