on a boat called the `Mud Turtle' -- at least, that's what WE called her.
She might reasonably have haunted the Mississippi fifty years ago.
She didn't seem particular where she went, or whether she started again
or stopped for good after getting stuck. Her machinery sounded
like a chapter of accidents and was always out of order, but she got along
all the same, provided the steersman kept her off the bank.

Her skipper was a young man, who looked more like a drover than a sailor,
and the crew bore a greater resemblance to the unemployed
than to any other body we know of, except that they looked
a little more independent. They seemed clannish, too,
with an unemployed or free-labour sort of isolation. We have an idea
that they regarded our personal appearance with contempt.

. . . . .

Above Louth we picked up a "whaler", who came aboard for
the sake of society and tobacco. Not that he hoped to shorten his journey;
he had no destination. He told us many reckless and unprincipled lies,
and gave us a few ornamental facts. One of them took our fancy,
and impressed us -- with its beautiful simplicity, I suppose. He said:
"Some miles above where the Darlin' and the Warrygo runs inter each other,
there's a billygong runnin' right across between the two rivers and makin'
a sort of tryhangular hyland; 'n' I can tel'yer a funny thing about it."
Here he paused to light his pipe. "Now," he continued, impressively,
jerking the match overboard, "when the Darlin's up, and the Warrygo's LOW,
the billygong runs from the Darlin' into the WARRYGO; AND,
when the Warrygo's up 'n' the Darlin's down, the waters runs
FROM the Warrygo 'n' inter the Darlin'."