On finding himself in the water as he parted from his companions,
Hendrik had not much exertion to make.
A gentle motion of the limbs sustained him on the surface, and he was
borne onward with a velocity that promised a speedy termination of his
voyage.
Some place must soon be reached where the banks would be low enough to
be ascended, and the current not too quick to hinder him from crossing
to the shore. He was spirited past several rocks, one of which he only
avoided with great difficulty, so swiftly did the current carry him
along.
When about a mile from his companions, as he supposed himself, he saw
that the banks on both sides were shelving and he tried to reach the
shore.
The current was still rapid as ever, and for each foot made in the
direction of the land, he was borne several yards down the channel of
the stream.
The velocity with which he was moving awoke in his mind a vague sense of
a danger not thought of before starting, and altogether different from
those that had been taken into calculation. His voyage, so far, had
been successful. He had escaped unharmed by rocks or crocodiles; but he
had evidence that a danger, as much, if not more to be dreaded, now
threatened him. The water seemed gliding down an inclined plane, so
rapidly was it sweeping him on; and beyond this, directly before him, he
could hear the roaring of a cataract! What had been at first only a
conjecture, soon became a certainty. He was going at arrow-like speed
towards the brow of a waterfall. Throwing all his energies into the
effort, he struggled to reach the shore at a point where the bank was
accessible.
He had nearly succeeded. Ten feet nearer, and he would have been able
to grasp the o'erhanging bushes. But that distance, little as it was,
could not be accomplished, and on he glided towards the engulfing fall.
On the brink of the water-precipice he saw the sharp point of a rock
jutting about three feet above the water. More by good luck, than any
guidance on his part, he came within reach of it as he was hurried
onward. Reaching out, he caught hold; and hugging it with both arms, he
was able to retain his hold. His body was swung around to the leeward
of the rock, until his legs hung dangling over the fall. Although the
force of the current was partly broken by the interposition of the rock,
it required him to exert all his strength to save himself from being
washed over. After a time, he succeeded in gaining a footing. There
was a little ledge on the rock just large enough for one foot, while the
other sought support on the pointed apex. To have attempted to swim
ashore could only end in his destruction. Though almost within leaping
distance of the bank, he had no place to spring from, and to have fallen
short, would have been fatal. He could do nothing but remain as he was.
Hours passed, and the torture of standing in one position irksome at
that, became unbearable. He could only obtain rest by getting into the
water again and hugging the rock with both arms as he had done before.
But this method of resting himself, if such it could be called, could
not be endured longer than two or three minutes, and he was compelled
soon to return to the upright attitude.
"There is not the least danger of crocodiles here," thought he while in
the water hanging on to the rock. "Should one pass this way, it would
not have time for touching me, even if it were starving." All night
long did he continue in this dread position.
Morning dawned, and once more he had to endure the agony of gazing on
the bank within a few feet of where he stood, though as unapproachable
as if miles of moving water separated him from it.
Fortune seemed determined to torture him to the last extreme.
There was no hope of his gaining the bank above, and it now occurred to
him to look below. Craning out as far as he could, he made an
inspection of the fall. It was about thirty feet in clear descent.
Below, the water ran frothing away and soon became smooth and tranquil,
as if reposing after the violent leap.
Should he allow himself to be carried over the cataract? This was the
question he now commenced considering. If he could only have assured
himself that there was deep water underneath, he would at once have
decided to commit himself to the descent. But there was the probability
that he might be precipitated upon jagged rocks, and of course killed by
the fall. Besides, he saw that the banks below were steep on both
sides, and he might have to swim for a long distance before being able
to land. After a descent of thirty feet he might be incapable of
continuing above the surface of the water. At all events, he would be
in no condition for a long swim.
After long and earnestly debating the question in his own mind he gave
up the thought of making the too perilous attempt.
Notwithstanding the agony arising from his own position, he was not free
from concern for his comrades left upon the rock.
Willem and Arend would in all likelihood come after him, if they had not
already done so. One or the other, or both, might have left the rock
and been carried over the cataract in the night, unseen by him during
the darkness.
As the time passed on, his sufferings approached the point of despair.
They at length became so great that once or twice was he tempted to put
a termination to them by giving his body to the cataract, and his soul
to Him who had bestowed it. But this demon of temptation was driven out
of his mind by a mental vision of angelic loveliness.
The remembrance of Wilhelmina Van Wyk came before him like some fair
angel, commanding him to hope and wait. He obeyed the command.