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Old Gold; or, The Cruise of the "Jason" Brig, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 23. A Great Danger |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. A GREAT DANGER So rapt were all the party in the awe-inspiring scene and in the beauty of the falls--which were broken up by island-like rocks peering out grey and green right across, so that as the adventurers drew nearer it was to gaze at the beauties of at least a dozen falls instead of one, as they had expected--that they did not notice how the wind was dropping as they advanced, nor yet the change that had taken place in the river current. It was Brace who first marked the alteration whilst he was noticing the numbers of fish leaping and darting away in front of the boat as she glided on. "We ought almost to stop and fish here," observed Briscoe. "We might have better luck with a smaller bait." "Perhaps we had better try," said Brace; "but I say, Mr Lynton, look here: what do you make of this?" "Make of what?" said the mate. "We are not sailing nearly so fast as we were a short time ago." "Oh, I don't know: we're making much about the same way." "But the boat does not rush through the water as she did." "That's right," said Briscoe. "A bit ago she nearly dipped gunwale under several times." "I noticed that," said Brace, "and that's the reason I called attention to the smooth way we are now progressing. There's just the same amount of wind blowing." "Yes; I say, Lynton, this isn't right," said Briscoe, in a sharp tone of voice. "What isn't right?" said the mate testily. "We're making splendid way. The boat's sailing along beautifully." "Yes, too beautifully," said Briscoe. "Can't you see what Mr Brace here means?" "No; I can't see anything wrong," answered Lynton, in a grumbling tone. "Look then," cried Brace, excitedly now; "you had better put her about at once and make for the other side." "What for?" "Can't you see?" cried Brace. "We were sailing against the stream a bit ago; but we're sailing with it now." "Nonsense; that can't be," said the mate contemptuously. "But we are," cried Brace warmly. "Look and see." "Yes, that's right enough, sir," cried Dan sharply. "The current's setting dead for the falls, and we're being sucked sharply towards the broken water underneath them." "Ay, true for you, mate," cried one of the sailors; "and if we get there we shall be swamped before we know where we are." Lynton started up in the boat and stood in a stooping position holding on by the gunwale with his unoccupied hand, as he peered over the side to look at the direction of the current and then gazed up the river at the falls. The others saw him change countenance, but he did not say a word. He gave ample proof, though, that he fully realised the danger they were incurring, for he bore hard down upon the tiller till the boat glided round, the sail filled on the other side, and they began to sail slowly in a direction parallel with the falls. "She don't make much way, sir," said Dan, in a grumbling tone hardly above a whisper, the words being meant for Brace's ear, but the mate evidently heard what was said. "I don't quite understand this," said he. "I never noticed any change, but the current's setting now right for the falls." "Don't you see why that is?" Briscoe asked the question sharply. "No. Do you?" "Yes. I'm a bit used to cataracts. There's thousands of tons falling yonder and going down ever so deep. That makes the surface water set towards the falls, and while there's a deep current rushing down the river there's a surface current now setting upward, and it'll take us right up to the falling water as sure as we sit here if something isn't done, and that quickly." "I don't quite see that," said Lynton obstinately, as if he did not like being taught by the American. "Never mind about understanding it," said Briscoe sharply. "We'll work it out afterwards. You must act now." "I am acting," said Lynton. "We're sailing right away." "But the current's taking us up, Lynton," said Brace quickly. "Well, I can't set more sail, nor make any more wind, can I? We seem to be getting more into shelter here." "But you can order the men to get out the oars," cried Brace. "Or else drop the grapnel and try to come to an anchor," said Briscoe. "Ah, yes," cried Lynton; "we'd better do that. Perhaps the wind will rise a bit more soon. Over with that grapnel, my lads," he shouted to the men forward. 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 shore 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 ashore, 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-- _ |
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