Summary

Portrait of Oliver Optic Oliver Optic Up the River; or, Yachting on the Mississippi

But the negro cabins were upset and many of them were floating about. It was evident enough that they had been built on lower ground than the residences of the planters. The knoll was covered with shade-trees and shrubs, and the estates were as beautiful as anything I ever looked upon—that is, what I could see of them above the water.
"Eight feet!" shouted the leadsman, with energy.
I rang to stop her, for I could feel a sort of sensation as though the keel of the Sylvania was making a furrow in the field under us. The steamer stopped almost as soon as I rang the bell.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Oliver Optic Oliver Optic Up the River; or, Yachting on the Mississippi

By occasionally backing the screw, we ran within fifty feet of the wreck, and I could hear the roar of the gale through the standing rigging of the bark, and the heavy pounding of the billows against her side.
"Steamer ahoy!" shouted a man on the taffrail of the vessel.
"On board the bark!" replied Washburn, on the topgallant forecastle. "What is the condition of the vessel?"
"Our forefoot is gone, and we are stove through forward. She is full of water," replied the man. "She is grinding on the reef, and will go to pieces in a few hours."
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Oliver Optic Oliver Optic Up the River; or, Yachting on the Mississippi

At eleven o'clock we changed the course of the Sylvania to south-west half-west, which brought the gale nearly on the beam. The wind was blowing but little, if anything, short of a hurricane. The great billows struck against the side of the vessel and the house on deck with tremendous force. It seemed just as though immense boulders were hurled against the planking that enclosed my state-room, the galley, and the engine-room. The sea swept over the hurricane-deck, and struck heavily upon the planks overhead.
Source: Gutenberg

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