"Phew-w!" whistled Hicks, staring in consternation at the scene before
him. Then he added in a determined voice: "But I'm going straight over
that bridge or down the river, one of the two."
"Umph! More fool you," growled his companion. "I'm damned if I am."
"But look here, Thorman. If we don't get across now while we've a
chance, Heaven only knows when we shall. The river's `down' as it has
never been before, and all along the road we have heard nothing but how
it's coming down harder. Every blessed one of the bridges will go, and
we shall be stuck on this side, it may be for weeks."
Thorman made no reply, but sat on his horse scowling ferociously at the
flood in front of them.
The spot was a drift on the Great Fish River crossed by an important
main road which was one of the principal lines of transport up-country.
Some years previously a fine bridge had been thrown across the bed of
the river, which at that point was about fifty feet deep and twice the
distance in width, thus rendering traffic independent of the rise or
fall of the water or the state of the drift--at no time a first-rate
one. But although the actual bed of the river was wide and deep, the
stream itself was an insignificant trickle, dabbling along over stones,
with here and there along sandy reach, after the manner of a North
Country trout stream, but without its dash and sparkle. Except in rainy
seasons; and then its red turbid waters, swelled by the contributions of
numerous confluents and the drainings of the high watershed on either
side, tore foaming between their high banks, carrying down drift-wood
and trunks of trees in their swift pent-up course. But the bridge, a
fine iron one, standing sixty feet from the bottom of the river to its
parapet, rendered the transport-riders [carriers] absolutely independent
of these floods, as has been said. Whether the stream was almost dry in
its bed, or rolling down rocks and tree-stumps, mattered nothing to them
now. Instead of the tedious delay of several days on the bank, and then
the trouble and risk of crossing a bad, washed-out drift, their waggons
rolled as gaily across the bridge as along the road, and they kept on
their way as if there was no river there at all. Once or twice since
the bridge had been built, the water had risen within a few feet of its
roadway; but though an occasional prediction would be made that the
river was capable of rising a great deal higher still, yet it had not
done so. The bridge was of enormous strength, said they who were most
concerned, and would stand against anything.
But now it seemed as if the predictions of disaster were going to be
verified. For several days and nights it had rained incessantly; not a
series of heavy deluging showers, but a steady, telling downpour. No
break had occurred, not even a pause of ten minutes--rain, rain, rain,
till people became as accustomed to the continuous fall upon their roofs
of zinc or thatch as to the ticking of a clock--and the parched earth,
now thoroughly soft and moistened, ran off the superfluous water in
streams from every runnel and gully, which emptying themselves into the
larger rivers, these in their turn came down in such force as to flood
their banks, doing much and serious damage.
And the prospect before the two who sat there on their horses swathed
from head to foot in long mackintoshes was, it must be allowed,
sufficient justification for Thorman's retort. An expanse of tossing,
swirling water lay in front, and in the middle of this stood the bridge,
or rather all that could be seen of it, for its roadway lay at least a
foot beneath the surface. The banks of the river were overflowed to
some distance, and here it was comparatively smooth; but in the middle
the mighty stream rushed on its way with a dulling and ever deafening
roar, rolling its huge red waves; curling, hissing, splashing; now
heaving up a great tree-stump which, tossing for a moment, and leaping
half out like a live thing, disappeared again in the boiling depths; now
floating down the carcase of an ox or half-a-dozen drowned sheep.
Against the bridge lay jammed an accumulation of drift-wood and logs,
which groaned and grated with half-human shriek as the fierce current
hurled itself continually upon the obstructing mass, which as yet it was
unable to break through.
For sky, a pall of dark rain-cloud--heavy, opaque, and without a break
anywhere--resting, in a regular line, low down upon the sides of the
high hills on either side of the valley. Not a breath of wind to toss
about the showers--nor, indeed, could the term shower apply. A
downpour--straight, penetrating, and incessant. On the opposite bank of
the river many waggons lay outspanned, their number augmenting as more
kept on arriving in twos and fours from up-country, and the cracking of
long whips, and the peculiar "carrying" yells of their drivers, were
borne through the roar of the flood in front. Though early in the
afternoon it was dark and gloomy, and the great rolling river, its red,
turbid, hissing surface covered with evidences of damage and
destruction, the lowering sky, the oppressive and woe-begone aspect of
the surroundings, made up a picture of indescribable weirdness and
threatening grandeur. The elements were supreme; man was nowhere.
"Oh, hang it, Thorman," went on Hicks, impatiently. "You're not afraid
of a little water? I must get home to-night, and it's now or never."
The two had left some days earlier to attend a sale a good distance from
home; for Hicks, as we have said, was an energetic fellow, and always
alive to the main chance. The rain had just begun at the time they
started; but they hadn't bargained for this.
"Well, one damned fool makes two damned fools. Come along then,"
growled Thorman. It would never do for it to be said he was afraid--and
by a "Britisher," too.
"That's the sort, old _Baas_. I knew you were humbugging," rejoined
Hicks, heartily. He would have gone through more than the present
undertaking, though that was no child's play, when he thought of the
alternative--several days' weary waiting at the wretched little inn just
left behind. Why, one evening of it would be too awful. But things
gain or suffer by comparison, and now the comparison lay between this
contingency and Seringa Vale, a cheerful room, a snug home circle, and--
Laura. So quite airily he prepared to risk his life, having persuaded
his companion to follow his wise example.
A group of men stood at the water's edge exchanging speculations on the
probable turn of affairs, for a few waggons, bound up-country, lay
outspanned on this side, though the large majority, coming down country,
were on the opposite bank. They eyed the two travellers inquiringly.
"I say, Mister," said a tall fellow, with a beard the size of a
peacock's tail, falling over his chest. "You're never going to try and
get through, are you?"
"We are going to do just that," growled Thorman.
"We are not going to try, but we are going to get through," asserted
Hicks confidently.
"Well, I hope you may," said the other, "but take my advice and don't
attempt it."
"I'm going to attempt it, at any rate," answered Hicks. "Thanks all the
same."
"Much better not," said another sturdy purveyor. "Joe's right. There's
nearly a yard of water on the bridge, and the thing's been cracking and
groaning under all that drift-wood. It'll go any minute, I tell you. I
wouldn't go across for fifty pound. Besides, you've got to get to it
first, and there's a lot of water on either side. Better give it up."
"Oh, I know the road all right, every inch of it," was the reply. "Come
along, Thorman."
Fortunately for them they did know the road, for on either side of it
lay deep fissures and gullies, now, of course, all under water. To
flounder into one of these would be just better than getting into the
river itself. Still it would be extremely dangerous.
"Well, good-bye," called out the men on the bank as the two went
plashing into the surging water. "So long! We shall meet in the next
world."
A jest which contained more than half the truth for all the likelihood
of their ever meeting again in this, and so its utterers knew, perhaps
better than the two on whose ears it fell; yet the rough, venturesome
life led by these men rendered them reckless and indifferent in the face
of danger. They could jest with Death, with his grim hand put out
before them.
"Well, now we're in for it you'd better let me go first," said Thorman.
"I know these rivers better than you do."
Hicks acquiesced, and they plunged on. As they neared the bridge the
current increased in strength, but not yet did they feel anything like
its full force.
"Quick! Turn to your right," shouted Thorman, wheeling his horse. His
experienced eye detected one of those deep fissures above mentioned,
into which his steed even then nearly slipped. A plunge and a splash,
and he was on firm ground again, Hicks following.
And now, as they neared the bridge, the horses began to show signs of
terror: snorting and tossing their heads, their eyes rolling wildly as
they began to feel the effect of the swift, powerful current flowing
round the great piers at the entrance to the bridge, and had the riders
lost nerve their doom was sealed. And in truth the situation was
somewhat awful, and well calculated to try the strongest nerves. Before
them lay the submerged bridge, the water tearing over its roadway so as
to hide it completely--to what depth they could hardly guess. Even
Hicks began to repent of his headstrong rashness as he looked giddily at
the red, heaving flood rearing up its great waves as it thundered
against the bridge; but it was too late now, there was no turning back.
"So-ho, boy!--careful!--so-ho!" he cried, patting the neck of his
frightened steed, which, terrified at the roar and rush of water through
the ironwork, showed signs of backing; but the current upon the bridge
shallowing after rather a deep plunge just before reaching it, in a
measure reassured the animals.
"Don't look at the river, Hicks; keep your eyes on your horse, and look
only at where you're going," said Thorman, in a set, deep voice,
speaking over his shoulder; but the warning was nearly lost in the
deafening roar of the flood. Overhead, on either side, rose the parapet
of the bridge, and, as they splashed along the submerged roadway, every
now and then an uprooted tree or a huge stump would be hurled with an
appalling crash upon the accumulation of drift-wood which lay against
the quivering mass of ironwork. In one place the head of a drowned ox
protruded through an aperture as though the animal were looking into a
road; having been dashed there by the current, and its body being unable
to follow. A bizarre and ghastly sight was this great head, with its
fixed, glassy eyes, and yet living aspect, glaring from out of the ruin.
But such things as these our adventurers saw as in a dream. All their
attention was turned to their horses and their own safety. They could
feel the huge structure quiver and shake as they passed along it, and
ever in their ears was the stunning, deafening roar of the mighty flood
as it boomed beneath and around them.
And now the worst was over. They had gained the other end of the
bridge, but before them lay an expanse of submerged land, where the
current, if not so strong and deep as on the side they had started from,
was at any rate wide enough still to constitute a source of peril in the
exhausted state of their steeds. But the bottom was a smooth gentle
slope, free from any of the occasional cracks and fissures which had
troubled them at first.
"Don't stop, Hicks! Keep his head _up_ the stream. We'll be through in
a minute!" cried Thorman; and cramming his hat down, he settled himself
firmer in the saddle, and struck into the open flood again.
But the horses knew that the worst was over, and kept up bravely,
snorting and puffing like traction-engines as they struggled to maintain
their footing in the swirling tide. As in a dream, the riders could see
a crowd of men at the water's edge; could hear their cheers of
encouragement; then the resistance of the current slackened and ceased,
and the exhausted animals walked despondently out, and stood, their
dripping flanks panting and heaving, as Hicks and Thorman slid to the
ground, little less done up than their steeds.
"I say--did you do that for a bet?" asked one of the crowd which had
been standing ready to afford them what assistance they could, as well
as to watch an event of some excitement, a perfect godsend to these men
delayed there for many tedious days.
"No. Bet be damned," growled Thorman. "I did it because that fool
persuaded me to; and I wouldn't do it again for a thousand pounds."
"Oh, hang it, old man, don't be shirty," cried Hicks. "We are through
now, you know, and the proof of the pudding's in the eating. Besides,
we've shown what our horses can do."
"By the way, Mister, d'you care to part with that same animal?" said a
tall, lank transport-rider, critically eyeing Hicks' steed. "Because I
want a horse that ain't afraid o' water. I have a lot of drift work to
do at times, and that critter o' yours 'ud just suit me. What's the
figure?"
"Well, no, I don't," answered Hicks. "It would be rather rough to get
rid of him, just as he's brought me through that, wouldn't it?"
"Oh, all right," rejoined the other, good-humouredly, "I'd kind of taken
a fancy to him, that's all. When you do, just drop a line to John Kemp,
Salem, Lower Albany."
The two turned and waved their hats in response to a cheer which arose
from the other side.
"Well, we shan't meet in the next world yet, my friends," remarked
Hicks, with a laugh, referring to the last God-speed hurled after them
as they began their perilous crossing. Then, leading their horses, they
turned towards the roadside inn, which lay a couple of hundred yards
from the river bank, and whose landlord, by reason of the presence of a
number of men in a state of enforced idleness, was driving a roaring
trade. The inn, or "hotel" as it was usually called, was, this
afternoon, in a state of exceeding liveliness, for it was full of
transport-riders, making merry--one or two of them, indeed, decidedly
"cut," and in that condition affording huge entertainment to the rest.
Ordinarily a sober class of men, they were now indulging through sheer
_ennui_, being driven, as one of them expressed it, "to get on the spree
in self-defence," and to keep their spirits up. So the place rang with
the boisterous mirth of many jovial souls, and the air was heavy with
the fumes of grog and Boer tobacco which not all the open windows and
the door sufficed to carry off. Hicks started, as a dog and an empty
whisky-bottle shot past his legs at the same time in the doorway.
"Beg pardon, mate," cried a giant in corduroy, from across the room, not
moving from his place on a dingy sofa, where he sat wedged in among
other boon companions. "Sims here bet me I couldn't hit that Kafir cur
on the side of the ear, the loser to stand drinks all round."
"And, by jingo, you've lost," rejoined Hicks, good-humouredly, "so we
claim to cut in to the penalty."
"Right you are," cried the other, with a jolly laugh. "What's it to
be--`French'--Whisky? All right. Here, Sims, whisky and soda for these
gentlemen here; Hennessy for me," and then followed much discussion and
questioning among the rest as to what they would take, one rather surly
fellow coming near to having his head punched for curtly declining to
benefit by the general "treat."
The hotel-keeper, a thin, wiry-looking man, with grey whiskers and a
sharp face, now came forward.
"Where might you be from?" he began. "Want to off-saddle? You see I'm
pretty busy just now," he went on, as if apologising for the delay.
"We _might_ be from the bottom of the river, thanks to this fellow, and
we don't _want_ to off-saddle, because we have," growled Thorman. He
was determined, characteristically, to make the worst of the situation,
and resented having been made a fool of, as he phrased it, by Hicks.
"Why, it can't be that you've come across the river?" cried the landlord
in amazement.
"The devil it can't! We have, though, unless we've gone down it and got
into hell," fiercely replied the other, with a contemptuous glance
around; but the sulky rejoinder was received with a loud laugh by the
boisterous but good-natured crew as a capital joke.
"Come through the river?" exclaimed a rough-looking fellow sitting close
by. "Here, Mister, you and your friend must have a drink with me.
What's it to be?"
"No fear," called out the thrower of the bottle. "The gentlemen are
going to have one with me, Robins; they can have one with you after.
Here, Sims, look alive, trundle up those drinks."
"Keep your temper, Hallett," replied the imperturbable landlord. "A man
can't wait on a dozen fellows at once, you see; and there are a precious
deal more than a dozen of you here."
"And devilish glad you are of that same, you old humbug," retorted the
other, cheerily.
"Tell you what it is," an oracle of "the road" was saying in a loud
voice, for the benefit of the assemblage. "That bridge'll go, I say,
before night; but, anyhow, it's bound to go before morning."
"Don't know about that, Bill," said another. "It's a good strong bit of
iron, and my opinion is that it'll hold out."
"It won't, though. It'll never stand the crush of drift-wood that's
against it now. And, mind you, the river's coming down harder nor ever
it was--I know. It's raining like blazes up the country, far more'n it
is here, and what with the Tarka and the Little Fish and half-a-dozen
other streams besides, emptying into this, the bridge is bound to go.
Mark my words."
"Well, p'raps you're right, Bill. We haven't had such a flood as this
in my time, and I've known this road, man and boy, for over fifty years.
Still I should have thought the bridge'd stand. It's a good bit of
iron. But what do you say, Mister?" he added, appealing to Thorman.
"You've just come over it, I hear."
"What do I say? Why, that the damned thing won't hold out till night,"
was the gruff reply. "It jumped about like a twenty-foot swing while we
were on it. And the fool that made it ought to be strapped upon it now,
say I."
"I've known one flood bigger than this, but that was before your time,"
observed a wiry-looking little man, with white hair and a weasel-like
face, self-complacent in the consciousness of having the pull over the
two last speakers, and, indeed, over most of those present. "That was
the time poor Owens was drowned. The river rose to within a foot of
where we are sitting now before it went down again."
"Who was Owens, and how was he drowned?" inquired Hicks, spotting an
episode.
"Who was Owens?" repeated the old man, placidly filling his pipe. "A
fool; because he thought he was smarter than any of us, and thought he
could cross the river when we couldn't. He went in on horseback. The
river was running just as it was to-day, only not quite so deep. He
went down, as a matter of course, before he was half-way through."
"Couldn't any of you help him?" asked Hicks.
The old fellow glanced up with a look of silent contempt for any one
capable of putting such a question. Then he calmly struck a match and
lighted his pipe, and having done so he continued:
"The river was full of drift-wood, and we saw one big tree bearing down
upon Owens full swing. We hollered out to warn him, but the water was
kicking up such a row that he couldn't hear, nor would it have helped
him much if he had. Well, the tree came bang against him, entangling
him and the horse in the branches. They rolled over and over; and tree,
and horse, and Owens disappeared. We never saw him again, but the next
I heard of him was that his body had been found a week afterwards, when
the water had run off, sticking in the bed of the river, among the
drift-wood down Peddie way."
"Poor devil," exclaimed several of his auditors.
"No one but a fool would have gone into the river at all," concluded the
old man, sententiously, as he tossed off the remainder of his grog.
"I say, Thorman, we must be going," said Hicks.
"All right," replied that worthy, knocking the ashes out of his pipe and
rising to his feet.
"Oh, but you needn't be off yet," objected he addressed as Hallett.
"Stay here with us and make a night of it; you can go on in the
morning."
But Hicks was firm. It was not for this he had risked his life.
"Awfully sorry, old man, but I must get back to-night."
"Hang it! Well, then, have another drink--just an `off-setter,'"
persisted the other. "No? Well, then, good-bye. If you're round my
way any time, mind you give us a look up. We'll get up a buck hunt, and
some fun of some sort. Ta, ta! Take care of yourself. But you're well
able to do that now, I should think."
They settled for their horses' forage, and going round to the stable,
saddled-up, and were soon on their way; the steeds, after a good feed
and a rub down, looking none the worse for their gallant efforts in
crossing the perilous flood. And a carious sight was that which the
neighbourhood of the drift presented as they rode forth. In every
direction waggons were outspanned, standing in rows of six or seven, or
in twos and threes, according to the number owned by or in charge of any
one man, but everywhere waggons. A few were empty, but most of them
were loaded high up with wool-bales, sent from up-country stores to the
seaboard--or with hides, and horns, or other produce--for it was before
the days of railroads, and the carrying trade was abundant and thriving.
Their owners stood about in knots, watching the gathering flood; others
passed to and from the inn. Some again sat stolidly by their fires
smoking their pipes as they waited for the pot to boil, while a cloud of
native servants--drivers and leaders--hung about the canteen or lolled
by the fires, the deep bass of the manly Kafir mingling with the shrill
chatter of Hottentots and Bastards [Note 1]. A kind of twilight had
come on prematurely, by reason of the lowering sky, and the red
watch-fires glowed forth, and the crowd of waggons, considerably over a
hundred, standing about, gave the place the appearance of a mining-camp,
or a commissariat train halted while on the march. And every now and
then, more waggons would come lumbering over the rise, the cracking of
whips and the harsh yells of their drivers echoing through the heavy
air.
"Hi! Here! Where the hell are you coming to? Can't you keep the right
side of the road, instead of the side of the bullocks, damn you?"
The voice proceeded from an unkempt and perspiring individual, in
flannel shirt and corduroy trousers, who, wielding his long whip, walked
beside a full span of sixteen oxen, the motive power of a mighty load of
wool-bales. So insolent and aggressive was it in its tone, that even
good-natured Hicks, to whom the query was addressed, and than whom a
less quarrelsome fellow never lived, was moved to anger, and answered
the incensed transport-rider pretty much in the same strain.
"Oh, so you think I ought to get out of _your_ way, do you?" roared the
other.
"I think you might be civil, confound it all!" fumed Hicks.
"Suppose I ought to say `sir,' eh?" went on the other, in wrathful,
sneering tones.
"Oh, go to the devil," cried Hicks, fairly boiling over; "I've no time
to stay jawing here all night with you," he added, contemptuously,
making as if he would ride on.
"Haven't you? Just get down; I'll soon show you who's the best hand at
jawing, and at hitting, too. Come down here and try, if you're not a
blanked coward!" yelled the fellow. He thought that the other was
afraid of him; but he reckoned without his host.
"Oh, that's your game, is it?" cried Hicks, springing to the ground, and
throwing off his mackintosh. "Come on, I'm your Moses." And he
advanced towards the irate transport-rider, looking him fall in the
eyes.
The fellow, who now saw that he had a tough customer to deal with, began
to repent of his hastiness, and would fain have backed out of the scrape
into which his insolent, overbearing temper had led him, but it was too
late to decline the contest, for several of his contemporaries,
attracted by the prospect of a row, had gathered round. So he rushed at
his opponent, hitting out blindly, right and left. But Hicks, who knew
something of "the art of self-defence," and was of sturdy, powerful
build besides, found no difficulty in parrying this unscientific attack.
Then with a well-planted "one--two," straight from the shoulder, he
landed his adversary in a heap on the slippery, trodden-down grass by
the roadside.
"He's down--give him law," cried one of the bystanders. "Who is it?
What's it all about?"
"Dick Martin," answered another voice. "He cheeked t'other fellow, or
t'other fellow cheeked him, it don't matter which; so they're having it
out. Get up, Dick, and go in at him again."
But Dick manifested no such inclination. He raised himself half up and
sat glowering stupidly around, as if dazed. His nose was bleeding, and
a huge lump over his eye betokened pretty plainly that he would wake on
the morrow with that useful organ somewhat obscured.
"Never mind. Get up and have another try, man," called out the last
speaker.
"He can't; he's had enough. T'other's been one too many for him," said
some one else. And he had.
Hicks, who was far too good-hearted a fellow to exult over a fallen foe,
however great the provocation received, said nothing. He lingered a
moment to see if his adversary would show any sign of renewing battle,
and then began to mount his horse. Just then a loud shout went up from
the water's edge about four hundred yards below them. All turned.
"The bridge! It's going!" cried some one.
The spot where they stood, being on an eminence, overlooked the river,
and they could see the strong ironwork of the parapet bend to the
ponderous mass of accumulated drift-wood heaped against it. It
yielded--then snapped; and with a thunder-crash sounding loud above the
continuous roar of the flood, the vast obstruction of _debris_ bore it
down. A huge wave reared its head many feet in the air, and fell with a
mighty hiss, covering the rushing surface with seething foam. Then, the
obstruction removed, the mighty river hurled itself forward, its
horrible, many-tongued voices bellowing as if in savage joy at having
overthrown and defeated the works of human ingenuity. All that could
now be seen of the once fine bridge was a few strands of twisted
ironwork clinging about what remained of the piers at each of its ends.
"Let's give the old bridge three cheers," cried one of the spectators.
"She's been a good friend to us, and now we shall be put about as we
were before for the want of her."
They did so; and a great shout went up from the outspan, echoing far
along the sides of the darkening hills, where the lowering rain-clouds
rested in an unbroken pall. The bridge had been a good friend to them,
and now it was gone they would sorely feel the want of it for some time
to come, until another should replace it, which might not be for years.
So they cheered right heartily; but with a feeling of genuine regret.
Meanwhile, at Seringa Vale, everything was at a standstill. The stock
was kept at home, and in the soaked kraals the sheep stood huddled
together, stolidly chewing the cad, and looking very forlorn in the
dripping rain. But their owner's watchful eye was everywhere, as,
wrapped in a waterproof coat, he moved about, noting where it became
necessary to cut a channel for the drainage of a fast accumulating body
of water which threatened damage, and all hands would be turned out with
spade and pick for this and such like duty. Even he was more than
satisfied with the rainfall this time, and now and then cast an anxious
look at the weather quarter.
"I don't think I ever saw the kloof so full as this before, and it's
still rising," he said.
"No?" answered Claverton, who was meditatively jerking a pebble or two
across the broad, surging rush of water in front of them. "All the
rivers in the country must be tolerably well down. Why, the bridges
will never stand."
"No, they won't. If it goes on like this till morning there won't be a
bridge left in the country, that's my opinion. There'll be a heap of
damage done besides. Well, we can't do anything more now, and it's
getting dark," and they turned towards the house.
Very cosy and cheerful looked the interior of that domicile, as a few
minutes later, Claverton found his way thither, and got into dry
clothes. No one was about--wait--yes--there was some one in the inner
room. It was Lilian. She had been reading, and was seated by the
window with her book open in her hand, just as the twilight and then the
darkness had surprised her.
"Trying to read in the dark? Worst thing possible for the eyes," he
said. "What have you been doing with yourself all day?"
She turned to him.
"Very much what you see me doing now--reading and--dreaming."
"The best possible occupation for a day like this. I've been doing the
latter--dreaming," he said.
"You? Why, you have been hard at work all day," said she. "I've been
watching you walking about in the rain with a spade, and pitying you for
being so uncomfortable, while we were all sitting indoors, dry and
warm."
"Pitying me?"
"To any extent," she answered, looking up at him with a bright smile.