CHAPTER 15 The Pilots' Monopoly.
ONE day, on board the 'Aleck Scott,' my chief, Mr.Bixby, was crawling carefully through a close place at Cat Island, both leads going, and everybody holding his breath.

The captain, a nervous, apprehensive man, kept still as long as he could, but finally broke down and shouted from the hurricane deck-- 'For gracious' sake, give her steam, Mr.Bixby! give her steam! She'll never raise the reef on this headway!' For all the effect that was produced upon Mr.Bixby, one would have supposed that no remark had been made.

But five minutes later, when the danger was past and the leads laid in, he burst instantly into a consuming fury, and gave the captain the most admirable cursing I ever listened to.

No bloodshed ensued; but that was because the captain's cause was weak; for ordinarily he was not a man to take correction quietly.
Having now set forth in detail the nature of the science of piloting, and likewise described the rank which the pilot held among the fraternity of steamboatmen, this seems a fitting place to say a few words about an organization which the pilots once formed for the protection of their guild.

It was curious and noteworthy in this, that it was perhaps the compactest, the completest, and the strongest commercial organization ever formed among men.
For a long time wages had been two hundred and fifty dollars a month; but curiously enough, as steamboats multiplied and business increased, the wages began to fall little by little.