Prisoners of Chance Part 19

It was then I noted Cairnes, struggling just beyond me, reaching backward with his foot until he found purchase against the stone, then lifting his great crop to gaze about, sweeping the moisture from his eyes. He braced one mighty shoulder against the boat's side, with such a heave as I never supposed lay in the muscles of any man; swung that whole dead weight free of the rock, and ere the dancing craft, we clinging desperately to it, had made two circles in the mad boiling, I felt my feet strike bottom, and stood upright, ready to do my share again.

"Are you safe, Madame?" I questioned anxiously, for I could see no signs of her presence from where I stood, and she uttered no sound.

"I am uninjured," she returned, "but the boat takes water freely. I fear a plank has given way."

"_Parbleu_!" sputtered De Noyan, with a great sound of coughing. "So have I taken water freely. _Sacre_! I have gulped down enough of the stuff to last me the remainder of life."

"Hold your wit until we are safe ash.o.r.e, Monsieur," I commented shortly, for as I stood the strain was heavy on my arms. "Push toward the right, both of you, or the boat will sink before we can beach her; she takes water like a sieve."

We slowly won our way backward, the effort requiring every pound of our combined strength, De Noyan and I tugging breathlessly at the stern, the sectary doing yeoman service at the bow. Yet the effort told, bringing us into quieter water, although we upbore the entire weight of the boat on our shoulders after we made firm footing. The water poured in so rapidly Madame was for going overboard also, but we persuaded her to remain. Anyway, we drove the prow against the bank at last, and, as I rested, panting from exertion, I observed the others dragging themselves wearily ash.o.r.e, Cairnes was a sight, with his great mat of red hair soaked with black mud, which had oozed down over his face, so as to leave it almost unrecognizable. He shook himself like a s.h.a.ggy water-dog after a bath, flinging himself down full length with a growl.

De Noyan fared somewhat better, coming ash.o.r.e with a smile, even trolling the s.n.a.t.c.h of a song as he climbed the bank, but his gay military cap, without which, jauntily perched upon one side of his head, I had scarcely before seen him, had gone floating down-stream, and the fierce upward curl of his long moustachios had vanished. They hung now limp, leaving so little _a la militaire_ in his appearance that I had to smile, noting the look of surprise in Madame's eyes as he gallantly a.s.sisted her to the dry gra.s.s, before flinging himself flat for a breathing spell.

"G.o.d guide us!" I exclaimed, so soon as I could trust myself to speak.

"This is a hard ending to all our toil, nor do I understand how it came about."

"_Sacre_!" commented De Noyan, glancing across at the fellow. "It looked to me as if yonder canting preacher either was taken with a fit, or sought to make ending here of two papists."

I turned to face the grim-faced sectary, still too thoroughly winded by his late exertions to try the lift of a Psalm.

"See here, sirrah," I began angrily in English, "perhaps you will explain what sort of a Connecticut trick you attempted to play there in the current?"

He twisted his narrow eyes in my direction, apparently studying the full meaning of my words before venturing an answer.

"I know not what you mean, friend," he returned at last, in that deep booming voice of his. "Did I not perform my work with the best of ye?"

"Ay, you were man enough after we went overboard, but why, in the name of all the fiends, did you make so foul a leap, bringing us into such imminent peril?" The gleam of his eyes was no longer visible, but I marked the rise of his great shoulders, his voice rumbling angrily, like distant thunder, as he made reply.

"Why did I make the leap, you unregenerated infidel, you thick-headed heretic? Why did I? Better were I to ask why you ran the boat's nose into that bubbling h.e.l.l. Why did I? What else saved us losing every pound we carried, together with the woman, you c.o.c.k-eyed sp.a.w.n of the devil, only that Ezekiel Cairnes possessed sufficient sense to throw himself in the way, upbearing the bulk of the strain? The water was somewhat deeper than I supposed, and my feet found no bottom, yet 't was the best thing to do, and the only hope of steadying the boat.

Better for you and that grinning papist yonder to be on your knees thanking the Almighty He sent you a man this day, than lie there like so many hooked cods, gasping for breath with which to abuse one of the Lord's anointed. Yet 'tis but righteous judgment visited upon me for consorting with papists and unbelievers."

Feeling the possible justice of his claim I hastened to make amends to the wrathful and worthy man.

"You may be right," I admitted slowly. "Certainly we will return thanks for deliverance each in his own way. As for me, I greatly regret having mistrusted your act. Perhaps it was best, yet I think we have small chance ever to use this boat again. It appears badly injured. However, we must await daylight to note the damage. In the meantime, let us make s.h.i.+ft to camp; a hot fire will dry our limbs and clothing, and put us in better humor for the morrow."

CHAPTER XVIII

A HARD DAY'S MARCH

The dawn came with rosy promise of a fair day, a frost lying white over the gra.s.s-land, sufficient nip in the air to stir the blood. Before the others were aroused I examined the boat, which rested high in the mud where we had heaved it the evening previous. The cruel rent in the solid planking was such as to afford little hope of our ever being able to repair it. How the accident occurred I did not rightly comprehend, but we had been cast ash.o.r.e on the western bank of that swift maelstrom. In the light of dawn, I gazed forth upon the whirlpool extending between the rock against which we had struck and the bank where I stood, in speechless wonder at the miracle of our rescue.

Standing there in silence broken only by the wild tumult of the waters, I thought of Eloise tossed helpless in their merciless grip, and bowed my head humbly above the shattered boat, offering up a heartfelt pet.i.tion. I was not in those days a man of prayer, yet the germ of my father's robust faith was ever in my blood, and love teaches many a good lesson. Certainly I felt better within my own heart for that instant of communion under the paling stars.

My head was yet bowed over the gunwale when the heavy footsteps of the Puritan sounded close at hand. I could not fail to remark a softness in his deep voice as he spoke, resting one hand upon my shoulder.

"Thou knowest not, friend Benteen, how it gladdens my old heart to find thee before the throne of grace. I fear thou art not greatly accustomed to look up unto G.o.d in time of trouble, yet doing so can never weaken thy arm for the moment of trial. Acknowledge the Lord of Hosts, nor dream thou wilt ever prove less of a man because thy heart responds to His many mercies."

"You speak truly," I returned soberly, feeling a new respect for him in that hour. "There is no better way in which to start the day; and, unless my eyes deceive me, this bids fair to prove a day of sore trial.

Have you looked to the damage done the boat?"

"Nay," he returned earnestly, bending low to examine the rent. "I slept like a man in drink, and even now am scarcely well awakened. 'T is, indeed, a serious break, friend; one, I fear, which will prove beyond our remedying."

"Have you skill with tools?"

"It is one of my gifts; yet of what use in the wilderness where tools are not to be found? However, I will see what may be done, after we break our fast--there is little accomplished working on an empty stomach."

It was a morning of sorrowful labor; from the beginning a perfectly hopeless one. The planking had been so badly crushed that a portion was actually ground into powder, leaving a great gaping hole. To patch this we possessed no tool to shape the wood properly, or, indeed, any wood to shape, except the seats of the oarsmen. Nor did we possess nails. More than one expedient was resorted to with bits of canvas, wooden pegs, or whatsoever else we could lay hands upon, but our efforts resulted each time in sickening failure. At last, long before the sun had attained the zenith, the old preacher looked up, disappointment written on every line of his rough face, to say grimly:

"We waste toil, friends; the boat floats no more for all our labors.

Nor do I deem it the will of the Lord we longer continue to wear ourselves out in vain effort to undo His work."

He wiped the beads of perspiration from his low forehead, pus.h.i.+ng his hand through his matted hair.

"Were it not for the woman," he added more cheerfully, "the accident would not be so bad either. I am cramped by long boat service, and would welcome a stiff tramp to loosen out the joints of my legs."

I glanced across uneasily at Madame, for we were all seated on the gra.s.s in the suns.h.i.+ne, but could perceive nothing except encouragement in the clear depths of her brave eyes.

"Fear nothing on my account," she said quietly, instantly reading my thoughts as if my face were an open book. "I am strong, and shall not greatly mind the walking."

"At least you are strong of heart," I returned gravely. "But such a trip as now lies before us will test your power of endurance greatly.

Yet what must be done is best done quickly, and there are unpleasant memories cl.u.s.tering about this spot, making me anxious to leave it before another night. Let each one speak frankly his thought as to our future course, so we may choose the route aright. De Noyan, you are a soldier, accustomed to places of difficulty and peril. What would you suggest?"

He was lying flat upon his back, hands clasped beneath his head, puffs of white smoke from his pipe curling lazily up into the blue sky; nor did he remove the stem from between his lips as he made easy answer.

"Faith, man, my service on campaign has ever been with the horse; nor am I fond of using my own limbs for travelling. It would be far easier, I think, to knock up the old boat here; then, with whatsoever else we might find in this G.o.d-forsaken wilderness, construct some sort of raft to upbear our company, and so drift down with the stream.

_Parbleu_! it would be a relief from those cursed oars. If the load be too heavy, the preacher can be left behind; 't would be small loss."

"Your plan sounds bravely in words, Chevalier, but were we to attempt it, we should soon find ourselves in more serious stress than now,--ay!

before we had covered the first day's journey. My Calvinistic friend, what advice have you for our guidance?"

The sectary's eyes were fastened upon the ragged line of hills at our back, and for the moment he made no response, his seamed face grave with thought.

"How far, Master Benteen," he queried finally, "do you make it from here to the mouth of this river?"

"Not much short of sixty leagues," I answered, after a bit of thinking.

"The stream bends and twists so it is difficult to judge the true distance."

"It was a grievous journey," he admitted with a groan, "one I care not to travel again, unless it be revealed plainly to me as the will of the Lord. I name the distance full seventy leagues. What has been the main direction of our course?"

"To north of west."

"Ay! Are we, think you, thirty leagues to northward of where we left the Spaniards?"

"I should say yes, maybe ten leagues more."

"I doubt the extra ten, but even at thirty it would be foolishness to retrace all that hard-won distance merely for the sake of keeping in sight of this muddy stream, the very water of which is unfit for Christian stomach, and of no value otherwise. 'Tis my vote we strike directly east and north, following as straight a trail as possible until we find the great river. It should be as easy travelling as along this bank, and will bring us out above the Spanish lines of guard."