It was sooner than they expected that the darkness came on--thick,
black, dense darkness, which in spite of its gradual approach seemed
strange and full of suggestions of being peopled with enemies ready to
draw trigger on the banks and send lightning-like flashes at the
occupants of the boat--flashes each of which might be a messenger of
death.
The boat was set in motion and glided down stream slowly, with Murray in
the bows peering straight before him, trying to pierce the darkness; Tom
May right astern with one oar dipped, with which he kept the boat level;
while the others sat with oars balanced ready for use in case of attack,
and so as to ensure retreat.
In this fashion they floated down, carried along by the gentle current,
not a word being spoken, and the midshipman hardly daring to breathe as
he listened to the strange nocturnal sounds which came from the banks on
either side--weird croakings, pipings, and strange trumpeting notes
which sounded like a challenge to the strangers who were daring to
penetrate the thick darkness of the night.
More than once there was a sudden motion, a heaving and a rising wave as
of some huge fish or reptile which had been disturbed from its slumbers,
and from which attack was expected at any moment.
It was a strange ride, with the black water whispering by the boat's
side, while the men as they listened hardly seemed to breathe.
Murray had laid down his plan of action to the men before starting, and
that was to plunge oars and back-water with all their might to get out
of the sphere of danger, for to press on in the darkness seemed too
great a risk to run. But for quite two hours nothing occurred that
could be attributed to the agency of man, and the midshipman, who had
begun to grow used to the cries, croaks and movements of bird and
reptile, felt his spirits begin to rise, his heart to swell with hope of
reaching the mouth of the river unmolested, where he felt sure that
another boat would be awaiting them, and then and there he would at last
be able to perform his long-delayed mission.
"I've done wrong," he said to himself, "and alarmed myself without
reason. There have been no enemies waiting for us. They have settled
in their own minds that we should not venture to come down the river in
the darkness, and we might very well have had the oars out and come
quickly."
He had no sooner thought this than he mentally retracted his notion as
being so much folly, feeling as he did that it would have been
impossible to steer, and that in all probability they would have been
aground--perhaps wedged in amongst the trees or shrubs of the bank.
"I don't know what to do for the best," said the lad to himself. "One
moment I feel one way; the next something seems to tug at me the other.
I wish I could come to a decision that I knew was for the best."
He had his wish, for he had hardly had the desire when as the boat
glided on through the profound darkness it came in contact with
something hard with a heavy shock.
For the moment all was excitement. To the men it seemed as if the
cutter was rising up to ride over some huge tree-trunk that was floating
across the centre of the stream--some obstruction that had been washed
out of the bank during a flood and whose roots still clung to the place
of its growth.
"Boat-hook," said Murray, in a low business-like tone. "Steady, lads.
Try if you can shove her off."
Then like a flash the lad grasped the reality of their position, for
voices rose from the right bank of the river, to be answered from the
left, and as the occupants of the boat came to the same conclusion, that
the great trunk against which the boat had struck must have been placed
there by their enemies, so many flashes of light streaked the darkness,
followed by loud reports, and then came a fierce yell of despair or pain
and a loud adjuration full of rage.
"Shove all you know with that boat-hook," whispered Murray, "and strain
all with those oars. Do you hear? Back-water!"
There was no question about the men hearing, for every one was striving
his best in a fierce struggle to get free from a tangle of sharp
water-washed boughs; but the boat, after running stem on to the floating
trunk and making as if to climb over the impediment, had swung round
almost parallel; the water pressed heavily all along its side, and then
seemed to be engaged in heaving it over, so that when Murray thrust one
hand down over to his left he found that the stream was rippling within
an inch of the gunwale, and in another few moments would have been over
the side.