Her boiler pressure high and the vessel mightily lightened by the overboarding of a dozen barrels of gunpowder, the weight of the good whiskey shifted aft to trim her, her mighty sternwheel began to dig deeper in the brown waters of the Mississippi, and the Albert Hansell, the Captain again on watch at the wheel, began to tear a wide swath as the broad river bent through Saint Louis heading south for Louisiana miles below. Her mighty frame sang and vibrated to the pounding of the grat psitons within her, and her bow lifted clear of the whote bone in her teeth where the waters parted to let her fly by. Sweated and aching from unaccustomed labors, the passengers fed a constant stream of combustible material down through the engine-room companionway, and Catspaugh let himself go so far as to let loose one long great river-shaking blast from the mighty whistle atop the bridge.

The Albert Hansell, Mississippi Riverboat extraordinaire, was back on the run, and didn't much care who knew it.