It was more. It was the song of the unconquered soul. It was a defiance
hurled full in the face of Fortune.
The evening passed. The shades of night came down. It was dark, and
it grew darker. Until late, the sounds of song, of laughter, and of
merriment, came forth and resounded through the night. At length all was
still. All on board had descended to their couches, and were wrapped in
profound slumber.
The boy who awaked first in the morning gave such a shout that all the
others were roused at once.
What was it?
What! An instant told them all. Down through the hatchway there came a
blast of wind strong and cool, and full of sea salt. Above, they could
see the sail distended to its utmost, while higher up the clouds were
scudding across the sky. Below, the vessel was lying far over, as
it yielded to the wind; and her pitching and tossing, together with the
dash of waves against her bows, told all that she was moving swiftly
through the water.
They hurried up to the deck.
Far around them was the blue sea, now tossing into white-capped waves.
A fresh, strong wind was blowing over the water, and it was fair. On the
right rose Blomidon from out the foam that gathered at its base; on the
left the water extended till it was lost in the distance amid the haze
that hung over the low-lying shore. Behind them lay the Five Islands,
and all that water over which they had so long been drifting. The vessel
was heading straight to Grand Pré, and was tearing her way through the
water as she had never done before within the experience of any of her
present passengers.
Joy reigned supreme. Loud cheers and cries of delight burst forth.
“Why, captain,” said Bart, “I. began to think that the Antelope couldn’t
sail at all.”
“Can’t she, though? O, she isn’t a bad sailor when she’s got a wind dead
fair like this.”
“When’ll we get to Grand Pré?”
“Wal, that’s difficult to say,” said the captain, thoughtfully.
“Why, you don’t mean to say that there is any danger of the wind
stopping now, or changing?”
“O, no; there’s no danger of that.”
“Well, what is there?”
“Why, we can’t get to the wharf.”
“Why not?”
“It’ll be low tide when we get there.”
“Low tide!” repeated Bart, in consternation; “and how far will we be
from the wharf?”
“O, miles; and that isn’t the worst of it. You’ll have the Cornwallis
River between you and Grand Pré.”
Bart said no more, but retired to convey this disheartening intelligence
to his companions. They talked over it thoughtfully and with serious
faces.
The vessel went on. The tide was against them, but the wind was strong
and fair, and blew with undiminishing power. Looking toward the shore,
they could see that their progress was excellent.
Nearer they came, and nearer, until at last they saw before them a
vast extent of mud flats, beyond which lay a low ridge all green with
verdure; and they knew it as the dike of Grand Pré. Beyond this again
ascended the hills, with the white village at the base, and on the slope
the conspicuous form of the Academy, with its broad portico and lofty
cupola. .
“Where are you going now, captain? You can’t anchor. Is there a port
here to run the schooner into?”
“Nary port.”
“What’ll you do? Surely you won’t drift off again?”
“Drift? No, sir.”
“How will you manage?”
“How? Why, there’s only one thing to do; and that is, to run her right
straight in on to a mud flat.”
As he spoke, he looked steadily forward, and gave the tiller a pull
to starboard. The schooner turned slightly. The next instant it ran
squarely upon the mud flat, and stuck there, hard and fast.
XXIII.
_A wild Undertaking.--A Race for Life.--The lost Boot.--The
Quicksands.--The Isle of Safety.--The Mud Gulch.--Crossing the Abyss of
Mud.--Bruce’s Doldrum.--Two forlorn Figures.--Rapturous Welcome.--Speech
by the Grand Panjandrum._
THERE they were on the mud flat. It was a situation in which the B.
O. W. C. had been before, but experience had not made it any the more
pleasant to them.
“We’ve done it before,” said Bruce, “and why shouldn’t we do it again?”
“So I say,” remarked Arthur. “It’s a great deal farther,” said Phil,
“but in my opinion it isn’t half so bad as the other one.”
“Of course it isn’t,” said Tom. “The tide is leaving us rapidly, and
we’ll be able to jump out upon the mud, and not up to our necks in
water, as we did the last time.”
“And so we needn’t prepare to fight with shovel-mouth sharks,” said
Phil.
“The fact is,” said Bart, “it’s going to be a difficult job, and harder
than the last one, perhaps. We’ve got a couple of miles to go, instead
of so many hundred yards. We must face that fact before leaving.”
“We know that very well,” said Phil.
“You see there is Grand Pré just in front of us.”
“Yes.”
“Well, we can’t go there, because between us and that place is the
Cornwallis River, which just now is an abyss of mud, with a strong
stream running at the bottom. So we’ll have to make an angle, and go up
there toward the right, and go in a straight line to Cornwallis Bridge..
It will be two miles to the grass land, and another one to the bridge.
So we’ll have two miles of mud.”
“I don’t believe the mud is any different from what we found in the
other place.”
“It may not be,” said Bruce, “yet there may be air-holes. We’ve got so
far to go that we may find almost anything--air-holes, quicksands, or
anything else. Still, I don’t believe that we’ll meet with any.”
“Well, let’s wait till the tide gets down to the bows, and then start,”
said Tom.
With this the boys prepared for their journey. These preparations
consisted in nothing but getting some stout sticks, which they made by
splitting up a board, and smoothing each piece with a knife. After this
they informed Mr. Simmons of their intention. He looked aghast, and then
told them that they would get too muddy.
At this they laughed, and said that they were covered with mud from
their many experiences in the voyage, and couldn’t be much worse. So Mr.
Simmons looked at them from head to foot, and then at himself. By this
he discovered that the boys were in a comfortably muddy condition, and
what was more, that he, Mr. Simmons, he himself, was decorated with
many mud marks, which sadly marred the beauty of his black attire. This
discovery filled him with such horror that he hurried below, where the
sound of a brush in violent exercise showed the boys that he was trying
to eradicate the stains, so as to prepare himself for a solemn entry
into the village. He did not appear on deck again.
Captain Corbet, however, on learning their proposal, had much more to
say about it.
He listened with staring eyes, and then declared that they all were
crazy.
“Crazy? Why, ye’re mad as March hares! Do ye know that that there mud is
full of air-holes, an’ inhospitable for man an’ beast? Horses air lost
there every year. So air knows likewise. People shun it. Death lurks
there. I wouldn’t go there for all the gold in Californy There’s
quicksands, and there’s air-pots, and there’s holes of all kinds,
there’s deep gulps that you can’t cross no how.”
“But did you ever hear of an accident?”
“Course I have. My feyther told me onst about a neighbor of his’n that
lost a friend down hereabouts. He was found next day lying on the shore
up there--thrown up by the tide. Besides, my wife’s ma told me of people
that’s been a-missin’, an’ what it’s strongly suspected that they kind
o’ strayed down here, and got drownded. What d’ye say to that?”
“O, it’s all the same. There are five of us. We’ll help one another.”
“Ah, ye’ll help one another! Yes, but to sartin ruination. Why, see
here. Look at me. I’m more anxious, a hundred times, to got ashore
than you be. I’m a feyther. I’ve got a pinin’ babby that I’m a-yearnin’
after. I’ve got a kind of homesick feel-in’, that never leaves me, arter
him; ’ee bessed chicken, so it was! But do I go an’ resk my life? Do
I throw myself away? Do I walk over quicksands, an’ air-holes, an’ mud
gullies? Not I. I stand here like a man, an’ wait.”
“All right, captain; we’ll tell them you’re comin’,” said Bart, stepping
to the bows.
By this time the tide had lowered, so that they could get out from the
vessel on the mud. One by one they descended. They found the mud soft,
of course, but not very much so.
“O, boys,” cried Captain Corbet, “come back!”
“All right!” cried Bruce. “Come, boys, if we stand, we’ll stick in the
mud. Hurry along!”
“Bo-o-oys! come back,” wailed Captain Corbet. “If you get harmed, I
can’t follow you to help you.”
“Good by.”
“Bo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oys! O, Bo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oys!” wailed Captain
Corbet, for the last time, as the boys went off. But this time they gave
no response. He stood in silence, watching them, for a long, long time,
with deep anxiety. The other boys also looked after them with not a
doubt in the minds of any of them but that they would come back.
Meanwhile the boys walked on upon their dangerous way.
Perhaps their very ignorance of that danger saved them from it. They
walked on in a straight line, knowing nothing of places which the people
about believed to be dangerous; and as they found the outset easy, they
expected all the rest would be the same. The mud was like that which
they had met with before--soft at the surface, but hard beneath, so that
they sank in a little distance at every step, but nevertheless, found
a firm foothold. The mud was so soft, and the foothold beneath so firm,
that their feet were not very badly clogged. They did not find it so
difficult as walking over clay roads after they had been soaked with
rains, and cut up by heavy teams.
They walked on rapidly, in as straight a line as possible, laughing and
shouting, declaring that mud fiats were slandered, and that there was
much worse walking on many a country road.
At length the mud grew softer, and the bottom was not so near the
surface. To walk over this, even at a rapid pace, was difficult; for
where the foot was planted at full length, it would sink so that it was
difficult to extricate it. A swifter pace was necessary.
“Are you tired, Phil?” asked Bruce.
“No,” said Phil; and, indeed, he seemed as fresh as any of them.
“Because we’ll have to go faster,” said Bruce. “Come, now, boys--Indian
trot!”
Away they went at the peculiar pace known by that name,--the body bent
forward, and the fore part of the foot touching the ground with its
elastic tread, moving at that slow, steady, easy trot which is faster
and lighter than a walk, and but little more fatiguing to those who have
the knack of it. This carried them on very well for some considerable
distance farther, and on looking back they began to congratulate
themselves on the distance which they had already traversed. Ere long
the grass-covered marsh was within sight--the place where danger ended,
and progress was easier. But between them and that place there still lay
difficulties which they knew not of.
Suddenly as they ran on, they were arrested by a cry from Phil. They
turned instantly, and were horrified at the sight that met their eyes.
Phil, being the smallest and weakest, had fallen behind, and, being out
of breath, had loitered a few paces so as to recover, thinking that he
would catch up.
Feeling a pain in his side, he had stopped to fasten his belt tighter
around his waist, and without thinking he had stood motionless for a
minute. In that minute his feet had sunk in the treacherous soil. In his
sudden fright at this discovery, he had cried out, and made a desperate
effort to extricate himself. With a jerk he had drawn forth one foot,
but the other had sunk in up to his knee. And this was the position in
which he stood when the others turned.
Another minute and they were by his side, pulling at him. But as they
pulled, each one found himself sinking.
“Here, boys, this won’t do,” cried Bart. “Phil, give me your hand. Boys,
form a line behind me, one after another. Now let’s catch hold of one
another. Now, let’s keep moving backward and forward, quickly, #so as
not to stand still. Now, then, pull!”
Backward and forward the line of boys, thus rapidly formed, went
swaying, pulling Phil as they did so. The clinging mud yielded, and Phil
was slowly dragged forth. But his boot was left behind.
“Never mind the boot,” cried Bart. “Come on as you are,--one shoe off,
and the other one on, tol de roi de rido, my son John! Hurrah! Phil, go
ahead of me, and I’ll guard the rear.”
All this time, while Bart was speaking, they were running on, Phil
limping with his booted and bootless feet. .
“Never mind, Phil! we’ll soon get to a place where you can take off the
other boot,” said Bart, encouragingly.
And now began the tug. Their run had been a long one, and their
exertions excessive. All of them were out of breath, and panting
heavily. The distance still before them was great; but they dared
not stop; they dared not even pause for am instant, or slacken their
progress in any degree. Phil was most exhausted, but he toiled on with
desperate exertions. The memory of his lost boot showed him his danger.
That boot left behind remained as a terror, which drove him on.
On and still on. Fainter grew the boys, but they dared not stop. All of
them were panting, and laboring heavily, but no relief was near. Far
off still lay the marsh with its grass--a fearful distance to those so
exhausted, and still compelled to labor so hard.
“I don’t know how much longer I can stand this,” gasped Tom.
“You _must_ stand it! Don’t stop, for your life!” cried Bruce.
The others said nothing. To speak would be but to waste their precious
breath, which they were losing only too rapidly.
On and on. Still the soft mud lay beneath them, and an awful fear came
to some of them that it was getting softer.
The fear was soon realized.
Softer and softer it grew, and deeper sank their feet. Had this place
only been found at an earlier period, they could have returned, or they
would have had strength to struggle on; but now it came in the hour of
their extremest exhaustion. It was a hollow in the mud, somewhat lower
than the surrounding surface.
“We can’t go through this,” said Bruce; and he pointed to the centre
of the hollow, which looked fearfully soft and liquid. “Let’s go around
it;” and turning rapidly, he started off toward the right. The boys said
nothing. They floundered deep in the mud,-they panted, they gasped, they
moaned in the despairing efforts which they made.
“I’ll lie down,” gasped Phil. “I--won’t--sink--“.
“On, on! Never! We’ll all have to die if you stop.”
These words came from Bart, who, exhausted as he was, caught Phil’s arm,
and dragged him on.
At that moment Tom fell.
“It’s all up with me, boys,” he moaned. “Leave me. Save yourselves.”
Bruce said nothing. He snatched him up out of the mud, and pulled him
along, while at this fresh exertion his whole frame quivered, and his
feet sank deeper.
How long could this last?
Tom could scarcely keep his feet. Phil could hardly keep upright, and
move his legs. Arthur could barely stumble along. Bart and Bruce bore.
it best, and could help the others still.
But for how long?
A shout of joy came from Bruce.
“Hurrah! Look there!” he cried. Tom raised himself by a last effort,
and turned his feeble eyes to where Bruce pointed. He saw, at a little
distance, a green patch in the mud.
It was marsh grass!
At that instant all recognized it. The sight of it brought fresh
strength to their despairing energies. It gave new life to Tom and Phil.
A few steps more, and the soft mud grew harder; and soon after they were
all standing on the patch of marsh grass.
No sooner had they reached this place, than they all flung themselves
down upon the mud, out of which the coarse grass grew. For some time not
a word was spoken. All lay there breathing heavily. Looking back, they
could see the wide extent of mud flats which they had traversed.
The schooner was far away, and those on board could no longer be
distinguished. The soft spot in which they had been wallowing, and out
of which they had found their way, spread for a great distance, not only
between them and the schooner, but also on one side. Between them and
Cornwallis there appeared to be a firmer surface, like that which they
had found on leaving the schooner. Besides this, there were patches of
grass interspersed here and there, like islands, in this sea of mud.
Here they might find resting-places if they were again exhausted. The
spot on which they lay was the outermost of these.
They did not hurry away. They needed a good long breathing-time, and
they took it. Phil took off his remaining boot, declaring that if he
had only got it off before, he would not have been so exhausted. He
preferred walking over the mud barefoot, he said. This seemed to the
others a good idea, and they all took off their boots and stockings, so
as to pass over the mud more lightly.
At length, after about half an hour, they all rose, and resumed their
journey. The mud spread away before them; and though there were patches
of grass at intervals, yet the real marsh land itself did not come
within half a mile of them. This distance would have to be traversed
before they could reach the nearest verge. And now, keeping their eyes
fixed upon the Cornwallis shore, they all set out afresh.
Their progress was easy, such as it was when they first set out, with
this difference, that their goal was near, and resting-places frequent.
Nearer and nearer they came to the marsh land; nearer and nearer
still,--and now they were close to it,--and now they had just reached
it,--when suddenly, just as they seemed to touch it, there yawned
between them and that green inviting goal a deep crevice, the course of
some sea current, at the bottom of which trickled, even now, some water,
which probably came from one of the numerous drains of the dike land
before them. The sides sloped down at an angle of forty-five degrees,
and consisted of the softest mud, which seemed by its appearance ready
to ingulf at once any one who might step upon it. To cross here was
impossible. It could not be even ventured upon.
The ground at the edge was firm enough for them to stand and survey
the situation. On the left the gully seemed to go toward the Cornwallis
River, on the right it seemed to approach the land. Supposing that it
came from the dikes, and that it would grow narrower if they ascended
in that direction, they turned off toward the right. They found their
surmise correct. After walking for a half mile, the gully had become
much narrower, and had diminished from a width of thirty feet and a
depth of twelve, to a width of ten and a depth of six. But here they
found themselves at a fork, where the gully that came from the dike land
divided “itself, one part going toward the Cornwallis River, and the
other far down through the mud flat toward the bay. To go around it, or
in any way avoid it, was impossible. It was necessary to cross it at all
hazards.
“We must do it, boys,” said Bart. “So here goes.”
Saying this, he threw over his boots. Then he went back for some
distance. Then he rushed forward, and springing from the edge of the
bank, he shot through the air, and landed on the other side.
“That’s more than I can do,” said Tom. “I’ve got to wade it.”
“Nor can I,” said Phil.
“Go it, Arthur,” said Bruce.
Arthur went back, and took a run like Bart, and jumped. But he fell two
feet short. His feet sank deep into the soft mud. He struggled for a
moment, and falling forward, dug his elbows into the top of the bank.
Bart seized him, and after some violent struggles he was free.
After this all the boots were thrown over. Bruce encouraged Phil and
Tom.
“Now, boys, go it. I’ll wait here to help you.”
“But we can’t jump.”
“Arthur and I will go down on this side, and Bruce on the other, and
help you,” said Bart; and he descended at the same time, followed by
Arthur, while Bruce descended the opposite side. Their feet sank in for
some distance, and then found bottom.
Phil then went down, and gave a wild leap, and his feet just cleared
the middle. For a moment he floundered, but struggled onward, and caught
Bart’s hand. Another minute, and he was safe over.
“I’ve not got much strength left, boys,” said Tom; “but I’ll do what I
can.”
“Steady now--wait,” said Bart, “let me get a little farther down.
Arthur, give me your hand.” Saying this, Bart descended a little
farther.
Tom ran down, his feet sinking deep. Near the middle he tried to leap
over, but his feet sank so that his leap failed. He fell short, and his
advancing foot struck the very middle of that soft pudding in the bed of
the gully. He sank to his middle at once, struggling, and panting, and
throwing himself forward. Deeper and deeper he sank. It was an awful
moment. At length a last violent effort brought him a little nearer.
Bart dropped Arthur’s hand, and clutched that which was despairingly
outstretched by Tom. At the same moment Arthur caught Bart, and they
dragged at their sinking companion. For some time they did nothing
toward extricating him.
But now with a bound Bruce had sprung across, and hurried to their
assistance. Going down close by Bart, he caught Tom’s other hand. Then,
with all their strength united, they pulled. Their own feet sank deep,
but they thought not of that. Tom was coming out. He was out. He was
saved!
Drawing out their own feet then, they helped Tom up to the top of the
bank, and there they rested once more. Tom was not exhausted, but
only weakened, and a few minutes were sufficient for him to rally.
So, without saying much about this last adventure, they resumed their
journey.
There lay the marsh right before them at last. There, too, not far away,
rose a dike, beyond which were the dike lands. Their perilous journey
was at last approaching an end. Soon they were on the marsh, where the
coarse grass was now in its early spring growth, and not high enough to
impede their progress. A short journey through this brought them to the
dike. It was only a fe\v feet in height. They climbed to the top, and
looked around. There was the Cornwallis River about half a mile away,
and there, farther up, the bridge that crossed it. The coarse stubble of
the grass hurt their feet, so that they walked along the top of the
dike toward the river. This walk was easy and pleasant; and after their
severe journey, it was even delightful. In this way they went on, till
at last they reached the bank of the river, when they turned and walked
up the edge toward the bridge.
At first the bed of the river was, as Bart had said, a vast abyss of
soft mud, through which ran a swift stream, flowing at the bottom of
this abyss; but as they walked on, they came at length to a place where
the mud was intermixed with gravel, which extended down to the water,
and up on the other side. Here Bruce stopped, and looked down, and then
across. .
“What’s the matter?” asked the others.
“O, nothing. I’m thinking about trying to cross.”
“To cross! You’ll never get across,” cried Phil.
“Yes,” said Bart. “It can be done. I’ll try it if you will, Bruce. You
see it isn’t all soft mud here, but the gravel goes down, and up the
other side. I don’t believe it’s deep, either.”
“Well, if it’s over our heads, we can swim a little.”
“But see how strong the current is,” said Tom. “It will carry you off.”
“O, it can’t carry us far,” said Bruce. “I’m in for it. You see, boys,
it’s too aggravating to look across the river here, and see the Academy
close by on the other side, hardly more than a mile or so away, and then
turn off for a four or five mile walk around. You fellows had better go
up to the bridge, and get a wagon, and drive round. Bart and 1 will try
it here, at any rate. If we can’t get across, we’ll follow you.”
Without listening to any further remonstrances, Bruce and Bart descended
the slope. The bed was very wide and deep, though now nearly empty,
and they did not know how deep the water might be that ran there. They
expected to ford it. The other boys stood on the bank watching them with
intense interest.
The gravel, mixed with mud, formed a good footing; and Bruce and Bart
stopped here for a time, and put their boots on, so that if they had to
swim they might not be impeded with bundles.
The water was running swiftly by. It seemed wider now than it did at the
top of the bank. But they did not hesitate. In they went side by side,
Bruce on the right, and Bart below him on the left. The water grew
deeper and deeper. It came up to their waists, then up to their armpits.
Bart could not possibly stem it a moment longer. He was lifted from his
feet, and borne on.