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and then the star of my hope went out and left me in the gloom of
despair. Men take me by the hand and congratulate me, and call me
"lucky" because I was not on the Pennsylvania when she blew up! May God
forgive them, for they know not what they say.
Mollie you do not understand why I was not on that boat--I will tell
you. I left Saint Louis on her, but on the way down, Mr. Brown, the
pilot that was killed by the explosion (poor fellow,) quarreled with
Henry without cause, while I was steering. Henry started out of the
pilot-house--Brown jumped up and collared him--turned him half way
around and struck him in the face!--and him nearly six feet high--struck
my little brother. I was wild from that moment. I left the boat to steer
herself, and avenged the insult--and the Captain said I was right--that
he would discharge Brown in N. Orleans if he could get another pilot,
and would do it in St. Louis, anyhow. Of course both of us could not
return to St. Louis on the same boat--no pilot could be found, and the
Captain sent me to the A. T. Lacey, with orders to her Captain to bring
me to Saint Louis. Had another pilot been found, poor Brown would have
been the "lucky" man.
I was on the Pennsylvania five minutes before she left N. Orleans, and I
must tell you the truth, Mollie--three hundred human beings perished by
that fearful disaster. Henry was asleep--was blown up--then fell back
on the hot boilers, and I suppose that rubbish fell on him, for he is
injured internally. He got into the water and swam to shore, and got
into the flatboat with the other survivors.--[Henry had returned once
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