CHAPTER NINETEEN.
"WHAT'LL MASSA SAY?"
The scene taking place before him acted strangely upon Nic. It seemedto rouse him from his dreamy state, and awakened him to a wild pitch ofexcitement.
He sprang to his feet, and was on the point of springing overboard tothe man's help; but a touch from Pete upon the shoulder was enough: hesank down beneath its pressure, weak and helpless as a child.
"What are you going to do?" whispered Pete. "Are you mad?"
"Help! Save him! Can you stand like that and see the man drown beforeyour eyes?"
"What can I do, lad?" growled Pete angrily. "If I go over after him,it's to drown myself. These irons'll stop a man from zwimming, and takeone to the bottom like a stone."
"Ay, ay; ye can't do 'un," growled one of the other prisoners, in whomthe desire for escaping died out on the instant. "Sit still, lad; sitstill."
But Pete stood with staring eyes, gazing wildly at the place where hisenemy had disappeared; the veins in his forehead swelled, his lipsparted, and he panted as he drew his breath, looking ready at any momentto leap overboard and make an effort to save his old companion's life.
Meanwhile the overseer was shouting orders to his blacks ashore as wellas to those in the boat, which was gliding faster up the stream, and themen laid down their guns and picked up and put out a couple of oars, thedogs barking frantically the while.
"Pete Burge," whispered one of the men, "we must make friends now.Here's our chance; shall we take it?"
"No, no," cried Pete furiously, but without taking his eyes from whereHumpy had disappeared.
"I cannot bear it," panted Nic to himself, as he once more sprang up;and before he could be stayed he dived out of the boat, rose, and struckout for the landing-stage.
Pete shouted at him in his agony, and jumped overboard to save him,forgetting what was bound to happen, and going down like a stone, feetforemost, but rising to the surface again, to fight gallantly in spiteof the weight of his irons, and strive to overtake Nic, who,unencumbered, was some yards away.
But it proved to be as Pete had foreseen; there was the gallant will andthe strength to obey it, but it was merely a spasmodic force which onlyendured a minute or two. Then the brave young swimmer's arms turned, asit were, to lead, the power to breast the strong current ceased, and heremained stationary for a moment or two, before being gradually bornebackward, his efforts ceasing; while the men in the boat watched him andPete, who, with the water quite to his nostrils, was swimming with allhis strength, but only just able to keep the heavy fetters from dragginghim to the bottom.
"Two more on us going," said one of the men. "Here, Bob; come and help.You stop and grab 'em as soon as they're near."
The man and the comrade he had addressed scrambled over the thwartstowards where the two blacks were rowing hard, but hardly holding theheavy boat against the powerful tide; and as soon as the fettersclanked, the dogs barked savagely and leaped up to meet them; but as theintelligent beasts saw the men seize a couple of oars and thrust themover the sides, they stopped short, panting.
"All the better for you," growled one of the men to the dog glaring athim, "for I'd ha' choked you if you'd come at me.--Pull away, blackies."
The additional oars had the right effect, for as the four men pulledwith all their might the boat began to stem the current and shorten thedistance between it and the two drowning men. But, in spite of hisgreat strength, Pete was being mastered by the heavy weight of theirons, and was getting lower and lower in the water; while Nic's armshad ceased to move, and he was drifting with the tide.
"Keep up; strike out, lads," cried the man in the bows, in agony."We're coming fast now."
It was not the truth, for the heavy boat was moving very slowly againstthe swift tide, and the swimmers' fate seemed to be sealed, as the manreached back, got hold of another oar, and thrust it out over the bows,ready for Pete to grasp as soon as he came within reach.
"We shall be too late," groaned the man, with all his enmity againstPete forgotten in those wild moments of suspense. "Here, look out forthe oar. Pete, lad, swim back. Oh! poor lad, he can't hear me. He'sdrownin'--he's drownin'."
Pete could not hear, and if he had heard during his frantic efforts toreach Nic, he would not have heeded, for there was no room in the man'sbrain in those wild moments for more than that one thought--that he mustsave that poor, weak fellow's life.
It takes long to describe, but in the real action all was condensed intoless than a minute. Pete, who fought wildly, frantically, to keep hishead above water, fought in vain, for his fettered legs were fast losingtheir power, and he was being drawn gradually lower and lower, till,after throwing his head back to gasp for a fresh breath, he straightenedhis neck again, with the water at his eyes, and saw that what he couldnot achieve the current had done for him.
He made a wild, last effort, and caught with one hand at the arm justwithin reach; his fingers closed upon it with a grip of iron, andanother hand caught desperately at his hair.
Then the water closed over the pair, joined together in a death-grip,and the tide rolled them unresistingly up the stream.
"Pull, pull!" yelled the man in the bows, as he reached out with hisoar; but he could not touch the place where he saw the figuresdisappear. Quick as thought, though, and with the clever method of oneaccustomed to the management of a fishing-boat, the man changed histactics. He laid the oar over the prow, treating the iron stem as arowlock, and gave a couple of strokes with all his might, pulling theboat's head round, and bringing it well within reach of the spot whereNic's back rose and showed just beneath the surface. Then, leaving theoar, the man reached over, and was just in time to get a good hold, asthe oar dropped from the bow into the river, and he was almost jerkedout of the boat himself.
"Hold hard, lads, and come and help," he yelled.
The help came; and, with the dogs barking furiously and getting in everyone's way, Nic and Pete, tightly embraced, were dragged over into thebottom of the boat, the blacks, as soon as this was done, standingshivering, and with a peculiar grey look about the lips.
At that moment there was a distant hail from the landing-stage, and thebig smith pulled himself together and hailed in reply.
"Ah, look!" he cried; "you white fellow lose one oar. Quick, sharp!come and pull. Massa Saunders make trebble bobbery if we lose dat."
The oars were seized, and with two of the prisoners helping to row, theoar was recovered from where it was floating away with the tide, theothers trying what they could do to restore the couple, who layapparently lifeless; while the dog which had behaved so strangelyearlier in the day stood snuffing about Nic, ending by planting hisgreat paws upon the poor fellow's chest, licking his face two or threetimes, and then throwing up his muzzle to utter a deep-toned, dismalhowl, in which the others joined.
"Say, um bofe dead," groaned the big smith. "Pull, boy; all pull youbess, and get back to the massa. Oh, lorimee! lorimee! what massa willsay along wi' dat whip, all acause we drown two good men, and couldn'thelp it a bit. Oh, pull, pull, pull! Shub de boat along. What willmassa say?"
Nic Revel: A White Slave's Adventures in Alligator Land Page 19
