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.