“My gracious, Terry!” said Fred, “this is a little worse than I expected; it is going to be hard work to get across.”
“Ye are right for once,” added the other, gravely shaking his head; “them rapids are a little closer than I loike.”
“It seems to me,” added Fred, who was unwilling to admit that he was afraid to try the task, “that I have gone over the creek when it was just as high and rapid, and have crossed at this place, too.”
“Who swung the paddle?”
“Father did once and Mr. Bowlby at another time.”
“Did ye iver manage the paddle yersilf when the creek got onto one of its tears?”
“I don’t remember that I have, but that has been only because the need did not arise; I am not afraid to try it, even if you are.”
“Who said I was afraid?” demanded Terry; “I’m riddy to hop into the boat and sway the paddle mesilf, and I’ll do it, too.”
He stepped into the water, which was up to his shoe tops, and began drawing in the rawhide rope which held the frail boat from breaking away. His companion laughed and said nothing until the canoe was at their feet and drawn up on the land away from the rushing current.
“Don’t be quite so touchy, Terry; that boat belongs to me and I can handle the paddle better than you; anyway I shall try to take us to the other side, and all that you have to do is to keep those limbs and trees from capsizing us.”
The time occupied in pulling the boat to the spot had given the Irish lad a chance to regain his usual good nature, and he made no protest against the decision of his companion, though Terry was no unskillful handler of the paddle himself.
The creek was probably over a hundred feet wide, and the roiled current abounded with limbs and trees that swung up and down, sometimes out of sight and then popping up again, as though they were frolicking in the swift waters. It would require a strong arm and a cool head to force the birchen craft through these obstacles to the shore on the other side. It must be admitted, too, that it was a piece of imprudence on the part of the lads, who would have been wiser had they quietly waited where they were until the overflow exhausted itself. A stream that rises so fast subsides with the same quickness, and long before nightfall the creek would shrink to proportions that would take away all peril to any one in paddling across.
They would have been compelled to go a long distance up stream before finding a place where the crossing was easier, and it would have been almost impossible to drag the canoe thither. They would have held fast to one end of the rope and allowed it to dance through the rapids, so as to allow them to make the passage below, where the great peril was removed, had they not known that the chances were ten to one that it would be snatched from their grasp, thus shutting them out altogether.
Looking up and across the sloping clearing, the cabins forming the settlement of Greville could be seen at no great distance. From several of the stone chimneys the smoke was curling lazily upward, and now and then glimpses could be caught of persons moving hither and thither, but no one appeared to be looking in the direction of the creek, or if any one was doing so, he saw nothing of the two boys standing on the further shore and debating with themselves the best course to follow. At any rate no one would think they were unable to take care of themselves.
Both Fred and Terry knew that there was but one prudent plan to follow; that was quietly to wait where they were until near night, by which time all danger would be gone. But neither proposed the course nor made mention of it. It is natural for youth to be rash, and there was a semblance of timidity in such a shrinking back that was repellent to American and Irish lad alike. And so you will understand how it was that each showed an eagerness to enter into the contest with the angry current.
You will see, too, how foolish they were, when I tell you that during the few minutes they stood by the tree to which the rope had been tied discussing the situation, they saw the proof that the creek was subsiding. There was a perceptible lowering of the surface, as was shown by the soiled line against the trunk of the tree. Even Terry, when he looked down, observed that he was not standing in quite as deep water as he was a few minutes before. No danger, however, of his making mention of it.
It took but a minute or so to untie the long thong that was wrapped about the limb, and then, as Fred was on the point of flinging the coil into the bottom of the boat, the end of which was drawn up on the bank, and to take up the paddle and push off, Terry, with some excitement, caught his arm and said:
“Plase wait a minute, will ye?”
“What for?”
“I’ll not be gone long; howld the boat only for a twinkling.”
He ran a dozen steps or so from shore to where was the stump of a tree that had probably been splintered by a thunder-bolt, and around which sprouted a number of bushes that were dense enough to hide a large object within. Carefully parting these, Terry laid down his rifle and the bell, and then as carefully smoothed the undergrowth in place. Then he hurried back.
“There are plinty of lads about me own size,” said he, “but there’s only one gun that belongs to me, and if the canoe should upsit and both of us get drowned I want to be sure and save me gun.”
Fred smiled at this Irish-like explanation, but he was glad that Terry had left the gun on shore. It was safely hidden until he should wish to get it again, while its presence in the canoe would be the worst kind of encumbrance. The new owner was so charmed with his prize that he would think more of saving that than of saving the boat. It was clear that the task of Terry in fighting off the rushing timber would be almost as difficult as that of guiding it across the swift stream.
“In with you!” said Fred to Terry, who carefully seated himself near the bow of the canoe and took up the long pole that lay in the bottom and projected some distance over the end of the boat. Fred Linden gave it a vigorous shove, landed in the stern, caught up the paddle, and instantly began his struggle.
You will see the difficulty and danger of his task, and must therefore join with me in condemning the lack of judgment showed by both. They had to paddle more than a hundred feet across a furious torrent in which were scores of uprooted trees, wrenched-off limbs, and craggy stumps, all speeding downward with great swiftness and force. The course of the boat being at right angles to these objects, must bring it in collision with some of them, at the great risk of overturning or shattering the canoe, that was not calculated to withstand any such blows.
And yet, though the task was a hard one, there was little doubt that the two lads could make their way across, provided they were given enough time in which to do so; but there were the rapids, so near that their roar was plainly heard. In case of an overturn or accident, the two would be swept among them. It was the same, on a smaller scale, as if a person should start to row across Niagara River, just above the falls, where by vigorous work he could make the passage, provided he did not drop a stroke on the way. You will say that any one making such an attempt placed little value on his own life.
Fred Linden used his paddle after the manner of an Indian—that is, he dipped the broad end first on one side of the boat and then on the other. The paddle was not widened at each end, as is sometimes the case, the one who wields it using the sides alternately and with great rapidity. In calm water such a light structure as an Indian canoe can be driven with great speed, and I have no doubt that the youths would have made a speedy passage had it not been for the interference of the floating objects to which I have referred.
Ten feet from land Fred was forced to back water suddenly to avoid a jagged stump that danced in front like a bull getting ready to charge, and finally did strike the bow with a thump that startled both the occupants.
“Me pole slipped off the side of that,” Terry explained, as he brandished the stick in front on the lookout for the threatening waste-wood; “have a care that ye don’t drive the boat agin something that is stronger than the boat itsilf.”
By coolness, alertness and strength, Fred fou
ght his way in safety until probably one-third of the distance was passed. Then he saw the great blunder he had made in trying to cross while the current was so high. The constant fighting with the floating stumps and trees caused them to lose so much ground—or rather water—that they were drifting frightfully close to the rapids, whose roar grew plainer every moment. But he had gone so far that it was as safe to keep on as to turn back, and so he dipped the paddle and swung it with renewed vigor.
“Look out!” he called to Terry, who in parrying the rush of a stump a couple of yards in advance, did not notice one that was coming broadside on, its presence betrayed by a tiny branch that protruded a few inches above the surface like the fin of a shark. Fred did his utmost to avoid it, but he was too slow, and a second later the pointed log not only struck the side of the canoe, but capsized it.
CHAPTER X.
A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.
The partly sunken log crashed into the side of the canoe with such suddenness that the craft was overturned and ruined, and the occupants struggling in the water, before either had time to utter more than a single exclamation.
But they were powerful swimmers, and, but for the nearness of the rapids, they could have afforded to laugh at their mishap. As it was, Terry Clark shouted, as he blew the muddy water from his mouth:
“What a sinsible young gintleman I was to lave me gun on the other side.”
“We both would have been much more sensible had we left ourselves there,” rejoined Fred, who was struggling with might and main for the land in front; “there’s no time, Terry, to waste in talk; we’ve got to swim as never before, for nothing else will save us.”
The other seemed to rouse to his peril, for he made the only wise response he could—which was putting forth every atom of strength and skill that he possessed in the effort to breast the furious torrent.
It is singular how often the slightest advantage turns the scale for life or death. At the moment the canoe was smashed and capsized Terry Clark was seated some six or eight feet nearer the shore toward which they were paddling than was Fred Linden, and this difference remained when the two went into the water and began swimming. The Irish lad was fully as skillful as the other, and he did not lose an inch of the gain thus given him.
They were near the middle of the stream when the catastrophe took place. Of course they would have done better had they been without any clothing, but there was no time to remove any of that, and beyond question the two made the most gallant kind of a fight for life.
Fully aroused to his peril, Terry swam with amazing power, his lips compressed and his eyes fixed on the land in front, which seemed quite near, and yet was never so hard to reach. The lad had proven by repeated tests that he could swim faster on his left side then in any other position. He quickly flung himself over and used his arms and legs like one who knew fully the stake for which he was contending.
By this recourse he actually gained on Fred, who continued to breast the water with all the strength at his command. Terry was hopeful, and now that he was fully roused, he did not waste his strength in shouting to his companion. As he advanced in his crab-like fashion, he frequently flirted his face around so as to look in front, and thus to keep aware of his progress.
“I’m doing well, and will make it,” was his thought; “I hope Fred will be as fortynate as mesilf.”
An important point was gained by swimming on his left side; his face was turned up stream, and he caught sight of the floating timber quicker than when advancing with his face toward the land. Thus it came about that he saw a plunging tree, or log, similar to that which had destroyed the canoe, and when it was fully as close to him.
Like a flash, Terry dove, intending to pass clean under it. He could not know any thing about the portion beneath the surface, and was a little startled when he found himself among leaves and a lot of small branches; but he swam with the same vigor and skill when below as when above the surface, and quickly fought his way through, rising on the other side a considerable distance nearer land.
But he gasped with terror, for during the brief period he lost a great deal more than he gained. A furtive glance to the left showed him the mist and spray flying high in air, as the muddy waters were tossed to and fro by the rocks below: he was fearfully close to them.
But he was also close to land, and he saw his chance; indeed, his only one. A tree growing out toward the creek curved downward so that the lower part of the trunk was within a few inches of the water. A short time before the current had washed against it, but was now falling away from it.
The portion which inclined downward like a bow was several feet from shore, and some distance below him. It will be seen, therefore, that the thing for him to do was to bend all his efforts toward reaching that. If he could advance far enough to allow the current to sweep him beneath, or quite close to the tree, he could grasp it and save himself.
“That’s what’s got to be done,” was his conclusion the instant he saw the crooked tree; “or it’s good-by to Terry Clark and his rifle.”
He would succeed; he saw it the next moment. The curving tree seemed to be sweeping up stream with frightful swiftness, but at the right second Terry, by a supreme effort, threw himself partly out of the water, and flinging both arms around the trunk, which was no more than six inches in diameter, he held fast.
The strain was great, and he felt his fingers slipping over the shaggy bark, but he held on like grim death, and by a skillful upward hitch of his body, locked his fingers above the trunk, and was safe; he was then able to hold double his own weight.
His next move was to throw his feet around the trunk, when it was an easy matter for him to twist himself over on top, where he was as secure as lying on his own trundle bed in the cabin at home.
The instant his own safety was secured his whole soul was stirred by anxiety for Fred Linden, who, he knew, was placed at more disadvantage than he. Since he was further from shore than was he, and since the latter had been able to save himself only by a hair’s breadth, it was clearly beyond the power of Fred to escape in the same manner—though it might be that there was some other remote chance for him.
The first glance that Terry cast over the muddy waters showed him his friend, swimming manfully for shore, but so far out in the stream that it was impossible for him to reach it before passing into the grip of the rapids.
“It’s no use,” called out Fred, in a voice in which there was no tremor or shrinking; “I’m bound for the rapids, and here goes.”
And deliberately facing about, he swam coolly in the direction of the boiling waters as though he were bathing in a still lake.
“Be the powers, but he is plucky,” muttered Terence, thrilled by the sight; “if he can get through there alive, I’ll be proud of him!”
The rapids, of which I have made mention several times, were caused by a series of irregular rocks, extending a hundred yards, in the space of which the stream made a descent of a dozen or twenty feet. At ordinary times the creek wound languidly around these obstructions, forming many deep, clear pools of water, that afforded the best kind of fishing. There was so much room for the current that there was no call for it to make haste.
But you can understand how different it was when the creek was swollen by violent rains. It then dashed against the rocks, was thrown back, plunged against others, whirled about and charged upon still others, by which time it was a mass of seething foam, with the spray flying high in air, and a faint rainbow showing through the mist when the sun was shining. After fighting its way between and around and over these obstructions, the current emerged at the bottom one mass of boiling foam and dancing bubbles, which continued for several hundred feet before the effects of the savage churning that the water had received could be shaken off.
Now, it would be idle to say that these rapids were as dangerous as the famous whirlpool below Niagara Falls; for it would not only be untrue, but it would shut me out from taking Fred Linden safely through them: for I am
bound to do that, since he is too good a fellow to sacrifice at this early stage of my story, and you would not forgive me for doing so.
But all the same the danger was great, and was enough to cause the bravest man to shrink from attempting the passage. Fred would have been glad to shrink from going through, but since that was beyond his power he did the wisest course—faced about and kept his wits with him.
There was one consolation—the suspense could last but a few moments; he was sure to emerge from the lower falls within the space of a minute, whether alive or dead.
The first object that caught his eye was his broken canoe. Naturally it was but a short distance below him, though it had gained a little while he was struggling so hard to make land. It was turned on its side, spinning sometimes one way and then whirling the other, according to the whim of the current; then sea-sawing up and down, until all at once it shot upward like a huge sturgeon, which sometimes flings its whole length out of the water.
Another point must be named that was gained by this facing about of Fred Linden. Since he was going with the current he kept pace with every thing else that was afloat, and he was therefore in no danger from the trees and branches that had caused him so much, and, in fact, nearly all his trouble.
At the moment he was about to enter the boiling rapids he found himself partly entangled in the branches of a large uprooted tree that was dancing about in a crazy fashion.
“This may help to shield me from being dashed against the rocks,” was his thought, as he seized hold of a thick limb close to the point where it put out from the trunk; “at any rate I don’t see that it can make matters any worse.”
The act of Fred Linden in grasping the limb saved his life. The next moment he was whirled hither and thither, half strangled with foam, head now in air, now beneath the surface, his body grazing the jagged rocks by the closest possible shave, and all the time shooting forward with dizzying rapidity, until at last he emerged into the calmer water below as well and hearty as he ever was in all his life.
The Edward S. Ellis Megapack Page 227
