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To The West, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 21. Our Morning Bath |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. OUR MORNING BATH "Well, have you had a good night's rest?" cried Gunson, smiling at me. "Have--have I been asleep?" I said, sitting up. "Asleep? Yes, for a good eight hours. There, tumble up. Your washhand-basin is waiting for you. Now, Dean," he continued, touching him with his foot, "are you going to lie there all day?" "Don't--I say, be quiet. I've only just closed my eyes. Why! Eh? If it ain't to-morrow morning!" He got up and shook himself, and then followed my example of folding up my blanket. "Can you lads swim?" "I can," I said; and the words recalled our river at home, and the green bank off which I used to plunge. "I learned in Lambeth Baths," said Esau. "Then if I were you I'd go and have a dip; freshen you both up for the day. There's a place under the trees about a hundred yards from the wharf. I've had a swim there this morning." "Already?" I said. "Yes, and done some business beside. But look here; keep to the shallows there, and don't venture into the stream, for the current is exceedingly swift." A swim in the bright morning sunshine sounded so delightful that I made for the door at once. "Remember about the current, my lads," said Gunson; "and you, Dean, if you keep your eyes open you'll see plenty of salmon." "That's his way of making fun of me," said Esau, as soon as we were outside. "Somehow he don't like me." "And you don't like him, Esau?" "That's about true, Mr Gordon," cried Esau. "But oh my!--only look!" I needed no telling, for as we stood on the banks of that swift river, with the forest rising behind us, and the sun glorifying everything around, all thoughts of the last night's low spirits, and the trouble we had gone through, were forgotten, and I felt ready to shout for joy. The axe of the woodman had been at work, but so little that it was hardly noticeable, and, look which way we would, all was lovely, glorious, more beautiful than words can paint. "Here, I want to shout. I want to lie down and roll. Here, lay hold of my ankles and hold me," cried Esau, "Why? What are you going to do?" "I feel as if I must stand on my head, or I shall go mad. I do indeed." "Don't be so stupid." "But it ain't stupid. It's all so--so--Oh! I can't tell you how beautiful it is." "Never mind now. We are here, and can go on liking it." "Yes, I know; but--I say, lookye here. What a tree to climb, with all its branches standing out like steps, and--Why, it must be a hundred feet high." "It's more than two," I said as I gazed up at the grand green spire of a Douglas pine, tapering gradually up, as if it intended to pierce the bright blue sky. "Can't be so high as that," said Esau. "But I don't know," he cried. "Look at this stump; why, it must be twenty or thirty feet round. And look at 'em, hundreds and thousands of 'em, all standing as close together as they can. Oh, look! look! look! Can't help it, I must shout. I don't care about the trouble or the work, or the long voyage. I'd go through it all again to come to such a place as this. Oh, I do wish mother was here to see." I did not give vent to my feelings in the same way, but I felt as much; and all the time, as my heart seemed to swell with joy, there were tears rising to my eyes, and dimming the glorious view of river, mountain, and forest, while I kept on saying to myself, "Thank God for making such a lovely world." The first excitement over, and the feeling of wonder that we had not seen all this last night passed away, we went on along the clearing to the bank of the river, overlooking the shallows where we were to have our bathe. The sun was shining down through the opening formed by the stream, and its waters were sparkling and flashing in the light, as we reached the spot Gunson evidently meant, and just then I caught hold of Esau's arm, and stood pointing away toward the middle. "I see 'em," cried Esau, "just over those shallows. Just like shoals of roach in the Lea or the New River. They must be gudgeon." "Gudgeon!--nonsense! You forget how big everything is here. They're salmon." "Go along with you," he cried. "Think I don't know better than that? Well, I am--" This last was on seeing a bar of silver about three feet long shoot out of the water, describe a curve, and fall with a tremendous splash not half a stone's throw from where we stood. "Why, it is!" cried Esau, excitedly. "That was a salmon, and I can see 'em now--they are big--hundreds of 'em, and oh! not a bit o' fishing-tackle of any sort, not so much as a line." "Are you coming to bathe?" I cried, laughing. "Who's to bathe when there's everything to look at like this? Here, don't let's go any further; let's write to mother and the others to come over here." "There, I shan't wait for you, Esau," I cried, slipping off my clothes; while he began more slowly, gazing about him all the while. "Can't help it," he said. "I never thought there could be such places as this. I say, ain't it too beautiful a'most?" _Splash_! That was my answer as I plunged in, only to shout as I rose to the top again, for the water was so cold it sent quite a thrill through me, and the next minute I was swimming about in the full enjoyment of the dip, after having to be content for months with a miserable allowance of water for washing purposes. "Here I come: look out!" cried Esau; and the next moment he too sprang in, sending the water up sparkling in the morning sunshine. "Oh!" he cried; "oh! ice! Isn't it cold?" "You'll soon feel warm," I shouted; and a minute later he was up close beside me, swimming easily, and every now and then dipping his head under water like a duck. "I shan't go away from here," panted Esau. "It's too lovely to leave. I shall build a cottage down by the river side and live there, and then we can fish for salmon. What more does a fellow want?" "Let's wait a bit, and see what the rest of the country is like. We may find a better place." "Couldn't," cried Esau. "I say, one don't feel the water so cold now. I don't want a place to be any better than this. It's just right." "Well, let's swim back now, and dress. I want my breakfast, and I dare say Gunson's ready." "Bother old Gunson!" puffed Esau. "He's a regular nuisance. Is he going to-day?" "I can't talk in--the water." "What?" "Come on back now." I had turned, and begun swimming steadily back, for the water hardly flowed here close to the shore; and as I swam I kept on glancing up at the huge trees, which were four or five times the size of any I had ever seen before. "Don't you want your breakfast, Esau?" I said, after a few minutes' swim, but he did not answer. "Esau, come along." But still there was no answer; and I turned round and looked back, to see that he was still swimming in the other direction, and a long way from me. "Esau," I roared, "come back!" and I had the satisfaction of seeing him turn, and begin to swim in my direction. Striking out strongly, I was making for the place where I had left my clothes, when I suddenly heard him hail me. "Hallo!" I shouted. "Can't seem to get along here." I stopped to watch him, and then a cold shudder ran through me, for I could see that though he was swimming with his face toward me, he was slowly gliding away by the trees on the opposite bank. "He has got into the current," I thought; and I was going to shout a warning, but I had the good sense not to do so, for I felt that it would alarm him, and beginning to swim back, I cried-- "Turn in for the shore." "Eh?" "Make for the shore." "Can't, lad," came back; and the cold chill I had before felt thrilled me; while feeling as if I dared not speak, I swam towards him, in agony all the time, for fear I should get into the current with which he was struggling. "Don't get much nearer," he shouted, coolly enough, for he had not yet realised his clanger; and making an effort to speak as calmly, I raised my voice and shouted-- "Of course you don't. Turn round and swim the other way, sloping for the bank." He did not answer, but he had evidently heard my words, for he rose in the water, turned with a bit of a splash, and began to swim in the other direction; while I followed, keeping close in where there was hardly any current. Then I stopped and uttered a hoarse cry, for I saw him suddenly shoot right out toward the centre of the stream, and begin going down at a rate that was terrible. For I could see that any attempt to fight against the stream would be folly; all he could do was to keep himself afloat, and trust to being swept into some other cross current which might take him shoreward. I felt willing enough to go to his help, but I could do nothing, and the feeling of impotence began to rob me of such little power as I possessed. And now I saw that he realised his peril, for he raised one arm above the water and waved it to me, lowering it again directly, and swimming with the side-stroke, so that it seemed to me that he was drowning, for his head was nearly hidden by the water. "Now, my lads, breakfast," came from the bank, and I saw Gunson appear from among the pines. "Out with you. Where is Dean?" I rose in the water, and pointed to where the poor fellow was rapidly passing out of eye-shot, being now quite three hundred yards away, and rapidly increasing the distance. "What madness! He'll be--" I didn't hear him finish the sentence, but I know what he meant to say; and in despair I swam to the shallows, waded out, and stood shading my eyes and watching Esau, who was still afloat, but rapidly being carried away. As I reached the bank, I just caught a glimpse of Gunson running along the clearing beyond the little settlement, and my feeling of despair increased, for I knew that at the end of the opening the forest went down to the water's edge, and that any one would have to struggle through the tangle of branches and fallen trees. "No," I thought; "he will get a boat." But I could not remember that there was a boat about the place. I had not seen one. As I thought all this in a wild, excitable way, I snatched up some of my clothes, slipped them on partly as I ran; and even then, incongruous as it may sound, I could not help thinking how the wet hindered me. Then running on, I came upon Gunson, with his face cut and bleeding, struggling back from among the trees. "Boat! boat!" he shouted, hoarsely. "Is there no boat?" His words brought out the settler's wife, and a couple of men from one of the shanties. "No boat here," said one of the men. "Anything the matter?" Gunson tried to speak, but no words came, and in a despairing way he pointed down the river in the direction poor Esau had been swept. The man looked as he pointed, but nothing was visible, and just then the woman cried out-- "Why, where's your mate?" Neither could I say more than one word--"Bathing," and I too pointed down the river. "Bathing, and swep' away," said one of the men. "Ah, she runs stronger nor a man can swim. None on us here don't bathe." "No," said the other man quietly; and they stood looking at us heavily. "But is there no boat to be had?" cried Gunson, hoarsely. "The Indians. A canoe!" "Went down the river last night, after bringing the fish," said the woman wildly, and then--"Oh, the poor boy--the poor boy!" and she covered her face with her apron and began to sob. "And we stand here like this," groaned Gunson, "shut in here by these interminable trees. Is there no way through--no path?" "No," said the man who had spoken first, "no path. Only the river. We came by the water and landed here." "Gordon," said my companion bitterly, "I'd have plunged in and tried to save him, but I knew it was impossible. Poor lad! poor lad! I'd have given five years of my life to have saved him." "But will he not swim ashore somewhere lower down?" I cried, unwilling to give up all hope. "Where the stream isn't so strong. Let's try and find a way through the trees." "Yes; let's try a way along by the river if we can," he said, wearily. "Poor lad! I meant differently to this." He led the way back to the end of the clearing, and then hesitated. "If we could contrive something in the shape of a raft, we might float down the river. Hark! What's that?" For there was a faint hail from somewhere down the river--in the part hidden from us by the trees. "Ahoy!" came quite distinctly this time. "He has swum to one of the overhanging branches, and is holding on," I cried, excitedly. "Can't we make a raft so as to get to him?" Gunson turned, and was in the act of running toward our stopping-place, with some idea, as he afterwards told me, of tearing down two or three doors, when more plainly still came the hail. "Ahoy! Gordon. Ahoy!" "Why, he is swimming back," I cried. "Ah!" shouted Gunson, running back. "The Indians! It was about their time." Almost as he spoke, the end of a canoe propelled by four Indians came into sight slowly from behind the trees, and as it drew a little further into view, I could see Esau's head just above the side right back in the stern, and this was followed by one bare arm, which was waved in the air, and he shouted--"Gordon. Ahoy! Got my clothes?" Gunson gave his foot an angry stamp, and walked back to the settler's house. _ |
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