“How long a swim was it to shore?” I asked.

“Oh,” put in her husband, “it didn’t amount to nothing.  She was only swimming about two minutes.”

This statement, however, was repudiated by the captain.  “Two minutes, my foot!” she flung back at her spouse.  “It was more than that, all right!”

Mrs. Johnson has done flood rescue work for the Government, with the Grand.  In the spring previous to our visit she rescued sixty families from one plantation, besides towing barge-loads of provisions to various points on the Mississippi and Arkansas rivers.

Captaining and piloting a river boat are clearly good for the health.  Mrs. Johnson looks too young to be a grandmother.  Her skin is clear, her cheeks are rosy, her brown eyes flash and twinkle, her voice, somewhat hoarse from shouting commands, is deep and strong, and her laugh is like the hearty laugh of a big man.

“Are you a suffragist?” I asked her.

“Not on your life!” was her reply.

“Now, what do you want to talk like that for?” objected her husband.  “You know women ought to be allowed to vote.”

“I don’t think so,” she returned firmly.

At that her daughter-in-law, the assistant clerk of the Grand, took up the cudgels.

“Of course they ought to vote!” she insisted.  “You know you can do just as good as a man can do!”

“No,” asseverated Captain Nettie.  “Women ought to stay home and tend to their families.”

“As you do?” I suggested, mischievously.

“That’s all right!” she flung back.  “I stayed home and raised my family until it was big enough to do its own navigating.  Then I started in steamboating.  I had to have something to do.”

But the daughter-in-law did not intend to let the woman suffrage issue drop.

“Do you mean to say,” she demanded of Captain Nettie, “that you think women haven’t got as much sense as men?”

“Sure I do!” the captain tossed back.  “There never was a woman on earth that had as much sense as the men.  Take it from me, that’s so.  I know what I’m talking about—­and that’s more than a half of these other women do!”

Then, as it was about time for the Grand to cast off, Captain Nettie terminated the interview by blowing the whistle; whereupon my companion and I went ashore.

One of the best boats on the river is the Kate Adams and one of the most delightful two-days’ outings I can imagine would be to make the round trip with her from Memphis to Arkansas City.  But if I were seeking rest I should not take the trip at the time when it is taken by a score or more of Memphis young men and women, who, with their chaperones, and with Handy to play their dance-music, make the Kate Adams an extremely lively craft on one round trip each year.