Pals: Young Australians in Sport and Adventure

by Carol Norton

  *CHAPTER X*

  *THE RETURN*

  "See the conquering hero comes! Sound the trumpet, beat the drums."

  After baby's hunger was satisfied the boys' attention was given to theirimmediate surroundings.

  "What are we goin' to do about _her_?" asked Tom, pointing upward as hespoke.

  "It's simply impossible for us to do anything. If she were alive wewould take any risk. But as things are it is beyond our power to shiftthe body, it is jammed so tightly. The only thing left for us to do isto inform the police when we get to the other side."

  "What'll we do now, Joe?"

  "Get back to our former anchorage first. River's goin' down prettyfast, I reckon; and it'll be all dry about here before morning if itrecedes at the same rate. The current is not nearly so strong as it waswhen we came over, and that will make it easier for us to get out of theclump. There's no need for us to go back by the same course. We can takea slant across to that red gum, and when we're there we're out of thestream."

  The exit from the cluster of trees was very well managed, and in a fewminutes from the time of casting adrift from the she-oak the boat wasout of the clump and across the narrow stream into the slack water.They continued on to their former camping place, and hitched on to thetree.

  This gallant attempt at rescue, though not accomplishing what was in theminds of the boys, was not altogether a failure. Indeed, it was thereverse of that. Though but little time is consumed in reading theaccount of this episode, it covered a goodly portion of the day. By thetime the boys had made fast to their former anchorage, the slantingsun-rays proclaimed the advance of eventide.

  "Let's have a confab, chaps, on what's best to be done. I don't s'poseany of us is wanting to stick here all night. What d'you say, Tom?"

  "I say pull over to the hillock on the other side of the slack. See!the water's retreated from the high ground. We could camp there, I daresay, easy enough, and get home early to-morrow morning. I don't thinkwe ought to tackle the river to-night. I bet you it'd be a measly,tricky trip. So I vote to do as I said."

  "What d'you say, Billy?"

  "I say same as Tom. Plenty dry land over there. Might get matches inthat house behind the hill. I'll pull 'possum outa spout, an' we'llroast 'im an' make bully feed."

  Billy, as indeed were all the boys, was beginning to feel desperatelyhungry.

  "What have you got to say, Jimmy?"

  Jimmy Flynn, who had been gazing wistfully across the flood waters,turned round slowly as Joe put the question to him. "Oh, Joe! can't weget home to-night? The river isn't so bad as when we crost up at theBend. There's not nearly so much timber goin' down now. 'Sides, it'seasier crossing down here to what it was above. I give a straight votefor--home!"

  "Bravo! Well done, Jimmy! You're a brick. It's just the word, an'we're the coves to do it. It's my vote too, my hearties. We've half anhour of sun left: say an hour before it's right dark. I reckon 'twillbe about two mile an' a half from here to Tareela. It won't be near asdifficult as up by the Bend. Yes, we'll do it, boys; an' the sooner thebetter. Then there's the blessed little baby, you know! Some of uswould have to mind her in the night, an' what about your beauty sleepthen? I reckon the kiddie would be too much for the whole boilin' ofus. And I've a notion that too much fruit'll be worse for her than noneat all. S'pose she gets the jim-jams! And, lastly, as father says whenhe's preaching, what about the old folks at home?"

  There was no need to say anything further.

  "I'm game, for one," said Tom.

  "I'm game, for two," said Billy.

  "I'm game, for three," said Jimmy.

  "Put me down for the fourth," said Joe.

  "Now, boys, that's settled. We'll tackle the river straight away; forbetter or for worse, as dad says in the marriage ceremony. And I say,chaps, let's ask God to help us."

  Though there was no audible form of expression, the spirit of prayer wasin each boy's heart. He who sat above the floods heard and answered.

  "Billy and Jimmy are to take the oars. We want the best men at thepaddles. Now then, Tom, let the painter go an' keep the pole handy fordriftwood."

  The painter is slipped, and the boat's head is turned riverwards. Sheis soon out of the slack, and feels the full force of the flood. Thestarting-point was nearly a mile and a half above the township, so thatthere was a liberal margin for drift. The river was quite a mile wide.There was still a quantity of driftwood, and many difficulties besetthem which made delicate steering and skilful management incumbent.When they had travelled about half the distance, Tom, who was eagerlyconning the other shore, gave a shout, pointing at the same time to aheadland above the village.

  "Some 'un's waving! See 'em, over there!"

  Mrs. Blain was the first to spy the advancing boat. The boys' mothershad been trapsing the lagoon shore and river-side for hours, in asemi-demented manner. The minister and the others had returned after afruitless errand. The police, with a strong crew in the Governmentwhale-boat, were scouring the shores in the vicinity of the Bend, andhad not returned. The disappearance of the boys had seemed mostmysterious until the break-away was discovered. Then the accident as itreally happened was immediately conjectured. The profoundest sensationwas created in the village, for the boys were dearly loved by all.

  The feelings of the poor parents may be but faintly imagined. Great wasthe relief, therefore, when Mrs. Blain, whose eyes were devouring theflood waters in her frantic eagerness to discover some hopeful sign,suddenly screamed out in an alarming manner, gesticulating wildly as shedid so, and acting to outward seeming in a frenzied fashion. Othersearchers, scattered along the river-bank, hearing the piercing cry, andseeing the untoward gestures of the joy-possessed woman, came runningtowards her, thinking for the moment that she had lost her reason.

  "See, see!" screamed she, pointing to a distant spot on the waters."They're saved, they're saved! God be praised, our lovely boys arereturning all safe; yes, one, two, three, four--the darlings."

  Looking in the direction indicated, the neighbours saw, far out on thewild, impetuous, wreckage-strewn waters, a tiny boat with four slightfigures running the blockade; threading their course between thethousand objects which intervene and threaten destruction.

  The good news is now shouted from end to end of the township, and in afew minutes the river-bank is lined with exultant and yet anxiousspectators. For the joy of the discovery of the lads is almost quenchedat times by sights of the perils of the passage.

  The mothers of Joe, Tom, and Jimmy are grouped together, wrought up tosuch a pitch of anxiety as to be well-nigh silent. They noted everydanger and counted every oar-stroke. The gallant rowers lifted theirblades in the twilight, as the last rays sparkled on the flowing waters.Beyond a landward look the boys had no time to bestow upon the excitedspectators. Eye and mind, in close conjunction, are continuouslyengaged in evading danger and maintaining the boat's position.

  "We'll make the point," exclaimed Joe, after an interval of silence."We'll make the point, all right. Keep her steady, lads," turning theboat's nose, as he spoke, well up stream, at an angle incliningshorewards. "Now, pull like a prize crew for five minutes an' we'rethere. We're out of the driftwood as it is."

  The rowers needed no further stimulus. They bent to the oars like oldsalts.

  "Capital! just the stroke! Keep it up! Hear 'em cheering!"

  The cheering spurred on the boys, and in less than five minutes theylanded in the midst of a wildly excited and loud-cheering crowd. Andwasn't there a hugging and kissing, and hand-shaking and back-slapping!

  Just as the women were up to their necks in it, to use a homely figure,some one happened to glance at the boat. The glance extorted a scream.

  "A baby, a darling baby! See, see, see! a little baby in the boat!"

  A moment's dazed surprise, and every one crowded to the boat. Joe, whohad not moved far from the boat's nose, and
who only waited for theviolence of the welcome to abate a little that he might call attentionto the precious freight, waved the jostling crowd back, and in a fewwords related the incident of the rescue.

  A great wave of feeling passed over the crowd as he spoke. The womenwept copiously as the scene was conjured us, and strong menunconsciously shed briny tears as the story reached its culminatingpoint of the discovery of the helpless and orphaned babe, bound to thedead breast of her who had thus made the great sacrifice of motherhood.

  While Joe was reciting the story of the rescue, Jimmy Flynn held on tohis mother's arm and whispered excitedly into her ear. The narrator hadhardly finished ere Mrs. Flynn stepped forward to his side and faced thecrowd. Ordinarily, this woman was undemonstrative and shy. Now she isunconscious of any timidity. The moment was an inspired one; to producewhich Jimmy's whisperings had played an important part.

  "Mr. Blain, and friends all, give me the darling baby. It'll take theplace of the one God took from me last month. The clothes'll fit----"

  The bereft mother could get no further. Any woman who has lost a childwill tell you why.

  "My friends, you all know Mrs. Flynn, as I know her. If it were a matterof choosing between you, I should still say that no one in the town isbetter fitted for the sacred duty of mothering this little flood-drivenstranger. None of us can say to whom the child belongs; whether there isa father or near relations. But until it is claimed by those who canprove the right to do so, the very best of all possible arrangements,and one I regard as providential, will be for Mrs. Flynn to take thisbaby to nourish and cherish it."

  The murmurs of assent were unanimous. Joe, without any more delay,stepped into the boat, and, picking up the child--which all this timelooked round, wondering in its baby way at this ado--put the little oneinto its foster-mother's hands.

  The river baby was evidently delighted beyond measure to receive a warmmotherly embrace; judging, at any rate, by the way it gooed and crowed.

  As soon as she could get through the admiring throng, Mrs. Flynnhastened home, and before long the baby, washed and dressed anew, wasfilling its "little Mary" with sweet new milk.