I remained unnoticed in my corner of the pilothouse to watch the Linn navigate the lower rapids. After my previous terror, their passage was unmemorable – no more than a quickening of our pace. I was about to check on my companions when the second officer returned.

“Damage report, sir.”

“Yes?”

“A number of hull planks in the bow section cracked and leaking, but the steam pump is keeping up. The worst is a four-foot crack along the keel with a break on the bottom. Four joining ribs cracked as well. The grain in the hold is soaked and ruined.”

“Is there immediate danger?”

“No. I have deck passengers throwing the wet sacks over. The carpenter and his mate are shoring the frame, but he says she needs yard work. Also, he requires more sawn lumber for temporary repairs.”

“Thank you, Jim. We’ll put in at Portland. Go below and supervise the work. I’ll come down when we’ve landed.”

Turning to the pilot, he ordered. “Put in at Portland. Be easy with it – we want no further damage.”

“Aye, Aye.”

“Bill, you might as well come with me.”

The captain took his speaking trumpet and went to first to the gentlemen’s cabin, as it was just below, then to the portico, the lady’s cabin and finally the cargo deck. In each place, he addressed the passengers:

“We experienced difficulties and were swept into the Falls, but are safe now. Another boat, the Wheeling attempted to come to our aid, but was lost to the boiler explosions you heard. We are putting into Portland to effect temporary repairs. Thence, we shall proceed at half speed to Cairo and up the Mississippi to St. Louis, where there are yards able to put the Linn right. In other words, we shall not go to New Orleans as planned – nor shall we stop again before St. Louis unless forced by circumstances.

“So, any passengers not wishing to go to St. Louis should depart the vessel. Those doing so will receive a pro rata from the purser. Those wishing to go to St. Louis may stay aboard at no additional fare.”

After hearing him speak so the first time, asked, “Why did you say the Wheeling had come to our aid?”

“Two reasons, lad. First, one should speak no ill of the dead. Second, if there were an inquiry, the apostles might be returned to their former condition.”

“So they were not held illegally?”

“Only by God’s law, Bill. … So, take care what story you tell ashore. Remember, Kentucky is a slave state.”

“Aye, aye. I will.”

I saw a shaken Hannah in the portico, clinging to the arm of a sturdy Teuton. Blond and at least 6 feet, he was of about twenty years. Except for the general confusion, he could not have been there, for his shabby suit marked him a deck passenger. After beckoning to her, I followed the captain to the lady’s cabin to find Sandy and rejoin my friends.

While my little crew wished to go on to St. Louis, most of the other cabin passengers disembarked along with half of the deck passengers. Those who remained were mostly Oregon bound and glad to be taken further gratis.

That settled, I asked Hannah about her new friend.

“You say go find German deck folk to talk. I vas talking mit two girls ven one, she says I am boy in dress. Den, some boys call me names. I am crying. Fritz, he come and tell dem not be doing dat. Den, he puts arm on my shoulder and take me ven begin die Aufregung.”

“You mean when the trouble started?”

“Ja. He holds me tight ven de boat front unter vater goes. So, I ein Kuss him give.”

“Does he know you are a boy?”

“Ja. He like me zo. He says I am schön – pretty. I alzo like him. He ist ein hübscher mann – handsome. He goes to Oregon.”

“Does he want you to go with him?”

“Ve muss better to know – Fritz und me.”

“Know each other better?”

“Ja.”

“I hope he is nice. Be careful.”

“I alzo hope. I vill.”

As I had no idea what to do with Hans when we reached St. Louis, I hoped Fritz would prove kind. Perhaps real shipboard romances happened as they did in books.

It took the better part of a day to make temporary repairs to the Linn. A train of sweaty men, accompanied by a cacophony of hammering and sawing, carried heavy timbers up the gangway and down below. The temperature on deck was 100, and the air a soup of humidity and mosquitoes. I was driven back in my one trip below by even more intolerable conditions.

I went to my perch on the hurricane deck in search of a breeze. There was some slight relief, but I still had to take off my jacket and waistcoat to dry my soaked shirt. The captain was in the shade of the pilot house going over a set of plans with the ship’s carpenter. When they finished, he looked up and saw me.

“Bill, dear, if you are going to remove your jacket, you will need to wrap some towels about your waist, for you have given away your secret, lass. Your shoulders are broad and your hair short, but your waist could only belong to a girl.”

“I am sorry sir, but my incognito was needed for Sandy’s safety. … Well, that is not the whole truth, for once started, I found I prefer being a boy. ... But, I especially regret having deceived you.” I hung my head in shame.

“Buck up, lad! I told you I lost a daughter. I did not say she was a tomboy who preferred my old cabin boy uniform to any dress her mother sewed. She spoke constantly of wanting to master a boat as I do. I loved her as she was. So do I you. … The offer to ‘prentice stands.”

Tear rolled out of my eyes. “Thank you, sir.”

In the meantime survivors, casualties and bodies from the Wheeling kept coming in. Most of her crew were stationed near the boilers, so the few who survived were mostly cabin attendants.

I spread Captain Burch’s tale of the Wheeling’s heroism. The townsfolk readily accepted it, but the surviving crew were quite skeptical as they knew their captain well. Still, nothing they saw contradicted the story.

Many from the town and both boats, including Sandy and I, attended a Presbyterian service mourning the dead, praying for the wounded and giving thanks for those who survived. At the same time, a German pastor held a similar service outdoors for his compatriots.

One of the survivors was a baby of six months named Anna Zimmerman. Its parents had attached blocks of cork to her basket for the crossing from Germany. So, she floated away unharmed. The parents were less fortunate. Her father was fatally maimed and her mother could not be found. Hannah’s Fritz knew the parents from the crossing. So, when no relative stepped forward to take the child, he felt obliged to do so.

Passengers and townsfolk contributed clothes and napkins for Anna. Hannah, in particular, responded to her maternally -- taking charge of her care. She even attempted to nurse Anna in her office, but to no avail. On seeing this, I gave Hannah some doses of black cohosh and explained how to make more of the potion.

The next day the bow was sufficiently reinforced for us to proceed.