Old Gold Part 38

The sailors had been listening to every word, and quick as thought the little four-fluked boat anchor was tossed over the bows, and the line ran out to the extreme limit.

Brace watched anxiously for the iron to catch in the bottom and check their way. But he looked in vain.

"That's no good," said the American sharply. "Bound to say you'd want a rope ten times as long as that one up here, and if you had it no gimcrack of a grapnel like that would take hold of the smooth rock bottom."

"Well, what else can I do? We seem to be helpless," said Lynton.

Briscoe replied, in a most determined voice:

"Order out the oars, sir, if you don't want the boat to be swamped and your bones to be picked by these fiends of fish."

The men did not wait for orders from their officer, but seized the oars, and the next minute they were pulling with a long, steady, vigorous stroke in the direction the mate steered; but from where Brace sat aft he could see that they were still gliding gradually upward.

It was only too plain to him that this was the case, for he could mark their position by fixing his eyes upon a rock on the farther sh.o.r.e and see that they were first abreast of it and soon after leaving it behind them.

"We've got our work cut out here, Mr Lynton," said the American sternly. "I should change course again, sir, and make a tack in the other direction." Then, turning to the sailors, he said:

"Stick to your oars, my lads, and pull a steady stroke. No flurry. Be cool."

"Look here, sir: are you in command of this boat or am I?" cried the second mate, losing his temper in his excitement.

"Neither of us, I reckon," said the American coolly. "Strikes me no human being is in command of her now. She's going where the current takes her."

"Well, I don't want you interfering and giving orders to the men,"

answered the mate.

"Suppose we take our orders from Mr Brace here." Briscoe turned to Brace. "What do you say, sir--do you think my advice is good?"

"Yes, Lynton, it is good," said Brace firmly. "Do as Mr Briscoe says."

"All right, sir; I'll take my orders from you as I would from your brother; but I'm not going to be hustled about over my work by a Yankee who came aboard as a stowaway."

"That will do, Mr Lynton," said Brace haughtily. "I'd be willing to take my orders from any man if I felt that they were right, as I know these are, and you do too if you will only be a little reasonable and think."

"I don't want any thinking, sir," said Lynton frankly. "Yes, it's right enough. Pull, my lads, a good steady stroke, one that you can keep up for a month. Swing that sail over. That's right. Now we're off on the other tack."

He spoke out quite cheerily now, and handled the tiller so that the boat glided off in the opposite direction to that in which she had been sailing, and for the next half-hour they tacked and tacked about, sailing as close as they could to the wind, which was blowing gently right for the falls.

Their course was a series of tacks, which, if they were represented on paper, would be marked as a zigzag, and had the breeze been fresher the sailing qualities of the boat would have enabled her to easily master the current which was steadily carrying them towards the falls.

But instead of freshening, the wind, which was making the leaves quiver ash.o.r.e, seemed to be growing fainter and fainter as they came nearer to the thundering falls, for it was plain enough that in spite of all their efforts the current was the stronger, and that it was only a question of time before the pulling of the men would become weaker and the boat would be drawn right on and on into the churned-up foaming water, and then--

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

STARING AT DEATH.

It was too horrible to think of, and Brace, to keep out of his brain the mental picture of the swamped boat, the thundering water beating them down into the awful chaos, and the shudder-engendering ideas connected with the fierce fish waiting to attack and literally devour them alive, changed his position so as to kneel down in the bottom of the boat, facing the second oarsman, lay his hands upon the oar, and help every pull with a good push. Briscoe followed his example, and the strength of six was thus brought to bear upon the oars.

For a few minutes this extra effort seemed to have supplied all that was necessary, and as the men saw that they were beginning to draw a little away from the falling water they burst out simultaneously with a hearty hurrah, one that seemed to give fresh energy to the rowers. But it sounded feeble, hushed, and smothered as it were by the increasing roar of the falling water, ever growing into an overpowering, m.u.f.fled thunder.

Still there was the fact that wind and muscle were stronger than the current, and the boat was steadily drawing away as they advanced in their tack towards the farther sh.o.r.e.

On the strength of this and to save losing ground in turning to go upon the next tack, Lynton kept on, and shouted an encouraging word or two from time to time.

"Bravo! All together! Now you have it! Well rowed, boys! Put your backs into it! You'll fetch it! British muscle and British pluck for ever! Never say die, lads! That's your style! Keep it up! Well done, Mr Brace! Well done, Mr Briscoe! Well done all! Ah-h-h!"

This last sounded like a snarl from the mate--it was uttered fiercely, and was long-drawn-out and savage in the extreme.

But he felt that he had made a mistake, and he now roared:

"Go on--go on! Don't stop to look round you. Keep on rowing for your lives, lads, and we'll do it yet!"

He was just in time, for the men's efforts had begun to slacken and something of a panic was setting in amongst them.

Everyone grasped the fact that the long reach they were now making had been a terrible error. It had brought them closer in than ever to the high ma.s.s of rocks over which the upper portion of the river was precipitated.

Somehow from the configuration of the country this high ground affected the course of the wind, or else it had suddenly dropped, for to the horror of the rowers the sail, which had fairly bellied out, began to collapse, and a minute later hung flapping against the mast, doing nothing to help the progress of the boat out of the peril in which she lay.

"Pull!" roared the mate. "Pull for your lives, my lads!"

He sprang forward, and, just retaining his hold upon the tiller with one hand, he planted his foot against the bow man's oar and kept giving a thrust in time with each stroke.

Brace's first idea was that they ought to tack at once, but he grasped the fact directly after that there was not time, for in the attempt to achieve the manoeuvre the boat would lose so much way that they would be swept irredeemably closer towards the falls; and he went on thrusting with all his might, knowing full well that the mate was right, and that their only chance was to row on parallel with the falls till they could reach the farther sh.o.r.e.

"Pull for your lives!" were the last words the mate shouted, and they were but faintly heard in the heavy roar, and the men pulled as they had never pulled before.

They pulled till the rough ashen oars bent and threatened to snap in two, and as Brace kept on with his regular swing and thrust his position was rendered more horrible by his being face to face with the men and forced to see their starting eyes, their strained faces, and the glint of their white set teeth, as they dragged at their oars when bidden, each man for his dear life.

But it was all in vain, and they knew it. They felt to a man that all was over. Even now they could not get their full grip of the water, for it was becoming foam charged and white with the vesicles of air rus.h.i.+ng to the surface. But they pulled in the true Anglo-Saxon spirit, for life, of course, but with the desperate intent of pulling to the last, not to escape, but to die game.

And how soon?

Brace did not once turn his head to the right so as to see--there was no need to do so, for he was conscious of the ever-nearing presence of a gla.s.sy descending sheet dimly seen through a dense cloud of mist, which glittered and flashed, and as it rose, rolling over and over like the smoke from a slow fire, it emitted colours of the most brilliant hues-- glorious refulgent colours, reflections of the suns.h.i.+ne, while with ever-increasing force there came that dull awful roar.

There was an appeal too now to other senses, for a dull moist watery odour rose to the lad's nostrils, and at times it suggested fish, and he shuddered slightly at the thought of how soon he might be beaten down and swept within the reach of the keen-toothed creatures.

He thought all this and more in those brief seconds, for his brain was working quickly, independently of his muscles, which never for a moment flagged in the effort to help the rowers.

How long first?

He knew there would be no fishes close up to the falls, for nothing could swim in such an air-charged ma.s.s of water, and nothing would risk itself where it would be beaten down and hurled and whirled against the rocks upon which the waters fell and eddied and played around.

Brace knew and felt that so soon as the boat was sucked a little nearer there would be a sudden glide right up to the falling water, and then in an instant they would be beaten down into the darkness right to the bottom, and then go rus.h.i.+ng along at a terrible rate, to begin rising a little and a little more till they reached the surface half a mile or more away from where they went down, afterwards to float gently along past where the brig was anch.o.r.ed--

No; he felt that they would never reach the surface again; for, as soon as the rush of the water allowed, the great river would be teeming with shoals of ravenous enemies, and the friends left on board the brig would never learn the cause of the non-return of the boat's crew.