Every kid in town who had read Treasure Island by
Robert Louis Stevenson was now trying to talk like a sailor. They called each other “Matey” and the most popular song for kids was “Fifteen Men on the Dead Man’s Chest, Yo-Ho-Ho, and a Bottle of Rum.”
Then came that unforgettable Monday. I could see that it was raining in the mountains when I got up. But not one drop of rain fell in Adenville all that day. The Explorer made a trip down the river in the morning and another trip during the early afternoon. I was riding Bess, pulling the raft back upstream for the second trip of the afternoon. It was still raining in the mountains and it looked as it there was a real cloudburst up there. By the time I reached the swimming hole, the water in the river was getting muddy.
All the kids knew’that when it rained in the mountains and the river water started turning muddy, there might be a flood. We always stopped-swimming then. I was surprised when Tom had the raft carried back into the shallow water-1 jumped off Bess.
“You can’t make another trip,” I told him. “The wa-ter is turning muddy and there might be a flood.”
“Keep your mouth shut,” Tom said. “I’m not about to pass up thirty cents because the water is turning a little muddy. The river has turned muddy before and there hasn’t been any flood.”
Jimmie Peterson and Howard Kay were passengers on the trip.
“To heck with you,” I said to Tom. I walked over to Jimmie and Howard. “Don’t go,” I said. “There might be a flood.”
Tom gave me a nasty look. Then he spoke to the passengers. “Anybody who is afraid of a little muddy water
doesn’t have to make the trip,” he said. “But the Explorer sails on schedule. And no passage money will be refunded. All passengers who aren’t fraidy-cats get on board.”
After that speech all the passengers had to get on board or admit they were cowards. I got on Bess with Frankie and started downstream. Tom and his six passengers began the trip down the river. They were about a hundred yards past the swimming hole when I heard a roaring sound. I could see up the river for about a quarter of a mile, but I saw no sign of a flood and assumed what I’d heard was thunder in the mountains.
The raft reached that part of the river near the rapids where the current became swifter. I knew that the roaring sound wasn’t thunder as it became much louder. I turned and looked up the river. A wall of angry, muddy water a couple of feet high was roaring toward me, carrying logs, uprooted trees, and debris. All the kids on the riverbank screamed for Tom and the passengers to get off the raft. Larry Hanson, Frank Jensen, Hal Evans, and Pete Kyle dove off and began swimming toward shore. They all reached it in time.
Tom was trying to get Jimmie and Howard to dive into the river before the flood reached the raft. But my two friends were too paralyzed with fright to move. I watched Tom wrap his legs around Jimmie with a scissor hold. Then he put his arms around Howard and grabbed hold of the rope on the raft. He was just in time. The wall of floodwater hit the raft and all three of them went out of sight for a moment before the raft bobbed back up to the surface.
I jumped off Bess and unhitched the stone sled. I
mounted her with Frankie behind me and made her gal-lop downstream-The raft hit the rapids and was tossed about as if it were a matchstick. Uprooted trees and logs smashed into it. A second wall of floodwater, almost three feet high, came roaring down the river and hit the raft right in the middle of the rapids. I couldn’t see Tom, Jimmie, Howard, or the raft for what seemed like an eternity. Then the Explorer shot up to the surface as if tossed by a giant hand. The three boys were still on it. The raft spun crazily around, under water one moment and above water the next. The flood was carrying it downstream so fast that I couldn’t keep up with it on Bess. The raft, Tom, and my two best friends disappeared in the raging water.
Frankie tightened his arms around my stomach. “They are all deaded,” he cried.
I didn’t think they were dead the last time I saw them because they were still on the raft. But I also knew it was impossible for Tom to hold Jimmie, Howard, and the rope much longer. And when he finally had to let go from exhaustion, they would all be washed overboard and drowned. Even an excellent swimmer like Tom wouldn’t have a chance in the flood. He would be knocked unconscious by an uprooted tree or log. I was sure all three would be drowned as I rode Bess at a gallop into town. I lifted Frankie down from the mare in front of the marshal’s office.
“Run and tell Papa what happened,” I said.
Then I ran into the marshal’s office. Uncle Mark was sitting at his desk.
“Flood on the river!” I shouted. “Tom, Jimmie, and Howard were on the raft!”
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Uncle Mark jumped to his feet. “Where?” he asked.
“The last I saw of them was in the rapids!” I cried.
Uncle Mark ran out of the office. His big white stallion, Lightning, was tied to the hitching post. Uncle Mark leaped into the saddle, grabbed my wrist, and lifted me up behind him. We rode at a gallop to the bank of the river just below the rapids. Then Uncle Mark slowed the stallion down as we followed the river downstream.
“They must be drowned!” I cried.
“Stop that bawling and keep your eyes open,” Uncle Mark ordered.
About two miles below the rapids there was a sharp curve in the river where it practically reversed the direc-tion in which it was flowing. Uncle Mark pointed.
“There they are!” he said.
The raft had been tossed by the crest of the flood up on the bank of the river. I could see Tom, Jimmie, and Howard lying on the raft, but they weren’t moving.
“They’re all dead,” I cried.
“If they were dead,” Uncle Mark said, “they probably wouldn’t still be on the raft. But I’ve got to get them away from that riverbank.”
I saw what he meant as I got off Lightning. The force of the floodwater was chewing big chunks, out of the riverbank where the raft was. If Uncle Mark didn’t reach the raft in time to pull it away from the river, it would fall into the floodwaters. And if that happened, Tom Jimmie, and Howard would be drowned for sure.
I watched Uncle Mark ride Lightning into the floodwaters. I began to pray. Uprooted trees and logs were be-ing hurled with enough force to stun a horse or even kill it. But no wonder Uncle Mark was proud of his stallion.
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Lightning swam steadily across the river without balking, although he was nearly hit several times by a log or uprooted tree before reaching the other side.
The floodwater had carried them about a quarter of a mile downstream. Uncle Mark rode back at a gallop toward the raft. Uncoiling his lariat, he tied one end of it to the pommel of his saddle. I bit my lip in ten-or as I saw the riverbank cave in under one corner of the raft. Uncle Mark whirled the noose of his lariat over his head and threw it. The loop fell around the oarlock. Uncle Mark slowed Lightning down until the lariat became taut. Then he pulled the raft about fifty feet away from the riverbank. Jumping off Lightning, he ran to the raft. I saw the undermined riverbank where the raft had been suddenly cave in. If Uncle Mark had missed that first throw of the lasso, Tom, Jimmie, and Howard would have dropped into the raging floodwater.
I watched Uncle Mark turn Jimmie over. He put his ear to Jimmie’s chest, then to Tom’s and Howard’s. Then he signaled me and I knew he meant that they were all unconscious but not dead. I watched him carry Jimmie to Lightning and lay him belly down across the saddle. Then he put Howard across Lightning’s neck and Tom across the horse’s rump. He began slapping all three of them on the back.
I watched Uncle Mark for what seemed like hours but could only have been a few minutes before Papa arrived on a borrowed horse. Several men were with him, including Parley’s father, who was carrying some blankets.
“Are they alive?” Papa asked me.
“They must be,” Mr. Benson said before I could an-swer, “or the marshal wouldn’t be trying to get the water
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ou
t of them. No sense in all of us getting wet. I’ve got the whiskey and blankets. I’ll go across.”
The river was almost as high as when Uncle Mark crossed, but there were no uprooted trees and logs in it now. Mr. Benson swam his horse across and was soon with Uncle Mark—
They carried Jimmie to the raft. Uncle Mark held Jimmie’s head up while Mr. Benson forced some whiskey down his throat. I saw Jimmie’s head move and then his legs. Then Uncle Mark and Mr. Benson rolled Jimmie in a blanket. I watched them do the same thing with How-ard. Then they carried Tom to the raft. I held my breath as they tried to force whiskey down Tom’s throat. Tom didn’t move. Mr. Benson forced more whiskey into my brother. This time I saw his head move as he struggled unconsciously to avoid the whiskey.
Then I did something that I’d never done before. I tainted-When I woke up I was home in bed. Frankie was standing by the bed, holding my hand.
“You woked up,” he said, smiling. “I’ll tell Mamma.”
I looked at Tom’s bed. It was empty. “Where is Tom?” I asked.
“In Mamma’s bed downstairs,” Frankie said.
“And Jimmie and Howard?” I asked.
“Nobody is deaded,” Frankie said. “They are home in bed.”
It wasn’t until then that I realized it was morning. I’d slept right through from the time I’d fainted.
“Never mind telling Mamma,” I said. “I’m going to get up.”
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“Want to know where Papa went?” he asked as I was getting dressed.
I nodded my head.
“Papa and Uncle Mark took saws and axes to chop up the raft so nobody can ever use it again,” Frankie said. “And Papa is real mad at Tom.”
“So am I,” I said, suddenly feeling an anger against The Great Brain that I had never believed I was capable of feeling.
It was nine o’clock when I went downstairs with Frankie. Mamma and Aunt Bertha were in the kitchen. They both hugged me, as if I’d been away for a long time.
“How do you feel?” Mamma asked.
“Hungry,” I answered.
“That is because you haven’t had anything to eat since noon yesterday,” she said. “I wanted to wake you last night, but Dr. LeRoy said to let you steep until you woke up by yourself. What would you like for breakfast?”
“Everything,” I said. “Mush, hot cakes, bacon and eggs, toast, and milk. Gosh, but I’m hungry. How is Tom?”
“All right, thank God,” Mamma said. “You can go talk to him while Bertha and I fix your breakfast.”
“I don’t care if I never see him again,” I said.
Mamma looked at me as if I’d said I was going into her bedroom to cut Tom’s throat. “How can you say such a terrible thing about your own brother?” she asked.
“Easy,” I said. “How would you feel about somebody who almost killed your two best friends?”
Mamma made me tell her all about it as I ate the biggest breakfast of my life. I told her about Tom swindling me out of my ten percent commission too. She and Papa
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didn’t even know that Tom was charging kids to ride on the raft. But did I get any sympathy? Heck, no.
“Your father and I have warned you time and time again not to make any bets or deals with your brother,” she said. “As for what happened to Jimmie Peterson and Howard Kay, your father is going to have a long talk with Tom Dennis. Dr. LeRoy said to keep him in bed until suppertime.”
I knew Tom was in for it when Mamma called him by his full name. She only did that when she was very angry.
Eddie Huddle came over to play with Frankie by the time we finished the morning chores. I got my bike and rode over to Jimmie’s house. His mother told me I could go up and see him, but he had to remain in bed all day. Jimmie looked pretty darn pale and sick when I entered his room. He propped himself up on a pillow.
“How do you feel?” I asked.
“How would you feel if you’d had a belly and lungs full of muddy river water and almost drowned?” he asked.
“I guess I’d feel pretty bad,” I said. “But not as bad as if I’d drowned. Tom did save your life and Howard’s.”
“Maybe it would have been better if he’d just saved himself and let us drown,” Jimmie said to my surprise.
“How do you figure that?” I asked.
“Then all the grownups would hate him, just like the kids do,” Jimmie said. “And nobody in town would have anything to do with him and his great brain.”
I knew the kids had been avoiding Tom until he built the Explorer and started running excursions on the
14*1
river. But I sure as heck didn’t know they hated my brother.
Jimmie’s mother came into the room and said it was time for me to leave. I rode my bike over to Howard’s house-His mother said I could see Howard but not to stay too long. Howard was in bed too. He looked pale but not as badasJimmie.
“Hello, John,” he said in a weak voice.
“How do you feel?” I asked.
“Weak and dizzy,” he said.
“You’ll get over it,” I said. “I’ll bet you’ll be coming over to play with me by tomorrow.”
“I’ll never go to your place again until Tom goes away to school,” Howard said. “He almost got me drowned Just to make thirty cents.”
“I begged you and Jimmie not to go,” I reminded him.
“Tom made darn sure we had to go,” Howard said. “He knew we’d rather go than let the other kids think we were cowards. I never want to speak to him again. But you can come over and play with me any time, John.*’
“I’m glad you aren’t mad at me because Tom is my brother,” I said.
“Pa says Tom belongs in a reform school,” Howard said. “And Ma wanted to have him arrested for almost getting me drowned. But Pa said no because he is your father’s friend.”
“I guess I’d better be going now,” I said. “Your mother said not to stay too long.”
It was lunchtime when Papa returned from helping Uncle Mark destroy the raft. Mamma told him what I’d
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told her. He made me tell it all over again. And just for good measure, I told him what Jimmie and Howard had said. Usually when Papa got angry, his cheeks would puff up and his face turn red. But the more he listened, the whiter his face became and his cheeks appeared to sink” in his face. He looked positively sick by the time I finished.
“I don’t know what we are going to do with that boy,” he said to Mamma.
I had a few suggestions, like making Tom give me back my dollar and paying me the ten percent commission on the tares he had collected before the wreck of the Explorer. But Papa looked so sad and bewildered that I just kept my mouth shut.
I played with Frankie in the backyard all afternoon. Not one kid came over to play. I knew they weren’t swimming because after a flood the water in the river stayed muddy for a couple of days.
Mamma let Tom get up and get dressed late in the afternoon. He came out of the house just as Frankie and I were starting to do the evening chores. We were in the woodshed getting kindling wood when he entered.
“Why haven’t you been in to see me?” he asked.
“I told Mamma that I didn’t care if I never saw you again,” I said. “Papa and Uncle Mark destroyed the raft. That means you swindled me out of my dollar and commission. But that isn’t the worst part. You and your money-loving heart almost got my two best friends drowned because you couldn’t pass up thirty cents.”
“Maybe that last trip was a mistake,” he admitted. Then he went over and sat on the railing of the corral fence until it was suppertime.
I sat at the table during supper waiting for Papa to
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start blasting Tom, but he didn’t. After supper I sat in the parlor waiting for Papa to give Tom a lecture until it was bedtime for Frankie and me. But I knew a blast was coming. I went upstairs with Frankie and took off my shoes.
“You stay here,” I said. “I’m go
ing to sneak down the stairway and listen.”
I crept down the stairway almost to the bottom. I could hear everything that was said in the parlor.
“If I had known,” Papa was saying, “that you were going to charge your friends to ride on the raft, I would never have let you build it. But since you did make them pay, it is only fair and proper that you pay me for using Bess. A team of horses rents for three dollars a day. You will therefore pay me a dollar and a half for each day you used Bess to pull the raft on the stone sled back up the river.”
“But that’s a lot more money than I made each day,” Tom protested.
“What you made,” Papa said, “has nothing Co do with the going rental price for a team of horses. This morning your Uncle Mark and I destroyed the raft. That means you cannot turn it over to J. D. as promised.” -
“I didn’t destroy the raft,” Tom said. “That is J. D.’s hard luck.”
“No,” Papa said, “that is your hard luck. You will give J. D. back his dollar and pay him the ten percent commission on fares you collected. And we will now get down to the really important part of this raft business.”
“Don’t you call my having to hand over a fortune important?” Tom asked.
“You,” Papa said, “and every boy in this town know
that when it rains hard in the mountains there is a very good possibility of a flood in the river. You knew it had been raining in the mountains all day. You knew the water was turning muddy, indicating the possibility of a flood. And yet you jeopardized the lives of six boys for thirty cents. And as a result, Jimmie Peterson and Howard Kay almost drowned.”
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