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Old Gold; or, The Cruise of the "Jason" Brig, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 24. Staring At Death |
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_ 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, muffled 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 shore. 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 mass 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 shore. "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 rushing 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 glassy 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 sunshine, 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 mass 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 rushing 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 anchored-- 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. All this and more passed through his brain in those frightful minutes as the men tugged hard at the oars, and they kept on parallel with the great descending sheet of water. Now and then, as if divided by a puff of air which did not reach them, the rolling mist opened and displayed piled-up natural piers of rock, towering above their heads and dividing the curtain of gleaming descending waters; but for the most part the falls were hidden from them by an impenetrable veil, and at last they were upon the outskirts of this mist as they rowed on. At first Brace believed that his eyesight was dimming, and he shuddered, for the faces of his fellow-sufferers appeared to him to be strangely distorted and indistinct; but he grasped the reason, and knew now that in a few minutes more they would pass on to their death. But no one else seemed to be affected by the surroundings. To a man, with fixed staring eyes and set teeth, the sailors dragged at their oars, waiting till their officer at the tiller should bid them cease, while his face seemed to have become set to a stony solidity which never changed, for Lynton was ready to meet the worst and, determined to help till the water beat them down, he breathed hard and thrust in the regular seaman's swing. Suddenly Brace felt more than saw that the yard above them swung slightly, and no doubt creaked; but no sound save the deafening roar of the waters could reach to his ear, and he just glanced upward, to feel for the moment that the canvas darkened their position, and it seemed to him that the time had come, for the sail was like one of the wings of death beating over them, and a curious feeling of resignation made him calm. He had not felt anything like fear during the last few minutes: he was only aware in a rapt dreamy way that something was about to happen--that something which was the end of everything on earth: and he felt sorry for his brother, who would take it terribly to heart that he did not return. But, directly after, his brain was intent upon the efforts he was making to help the rower in front. Then the mist became very thick around them, and as the boat was gliding faster and still faster through the water the already moistened sail seemed to be struck a violent blow which nearly capsized the boat, as she heeled over to port and did not recover. "We're going down," thought Brace, and he closed his eyes and threw back his head till his face was towards the sky, but only to resume his old position, for he awoke to the fact that the men seemed to be making a last desperate attempt to get out of the rushing water. And now, as he unclosed his eyes, it was to find himself in the clear sunshine with the boat dashing at headlong speed through the water, her port gunwale only an inch or two from the surface and the wet sail bellied out in a dangerous way, while Dan was holding on by the sheet. The roar of the water was stunning, but the sudden change in the state of affairs seemed to stun him far more, till it gradually dawned upon him that they had rowed on in their desperation till the boat had passed into a current of air, one caused by the wind striking against and being reflected from the rocks at one side of the falls, and by whose help they were gliding so rapidly into safer waters that the men suddenly ceased rowing, while Lynton uttered a yell. "Look, look!" he shouted. "Do you see? Do you see?" "See? How?" panted Briscoe. "I am nearly blind with staring at death." "Yes, yes, but look, look! Mr Brace--the water, the water! We have got into an eddy, and it is setting right away from the falls." Brace turned round and saw that Lynton's words were true. He sat staring at the water until he was recalled to a sense of what was passing around him by hearing Lynton's voice. "Oh, catch hold, sir; catch hold of this tiller and steer. Let her go-- fast as she will--so as to get away from this horrid place. Quick! quick! I can't bear it! I'm going mad!" Brace snatched at the tiller, and only just in time, for Lynton's grasp upon it gave out, and with a lurch forward he fell upon his face, which was, however, saved from injury, for he had clasped his hands upon it, and now lay in the bottom of the boat, hysterically sobbing with emotion like a girl. _ |
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