ON THE GANGES.
While all the members of the party were cheered by hope, none forgot
that a dreadful peril impended. Enough time had passed since the
revolt at Meerut for the news to spread even beyond the little town of
Akwar, which was within a fourth of a mile of the home of Dr. Marlowe.
He was aware that some of the most fanatical Mussulmans in all India
lived there. The action of the servant Mustad, who owed his life to
the father and child, was proof of what might be expected from these
miscreants when swept off their feet by the delirium that was spreading
with the frightful swiftness of a prairie fire.
Accordingly no time was lost. There was a hurried scrambling on board,
the water fortunately being deep enough near shore to allow all to step
upon the boat dry shod. The faint moon revealed the smooth surface of
the Ganges for nearly a hundred yards from land, but the further shore
was veiled in darkness. It was at this juncture that Miss Marlowe made
an annoying discovery.
"Oh, papa, I have forgotten my pistol!"
"Wait and I'll soon get it," she added, starting to leap the short
distance from the gunwale to land, but Jack Everson caught her arm.
"You must not think of it; tell me where you left the weapon and I'll
bring it."
"I laid it on the table in the dining-room and in the hurry forgot it
when we left."
Jack turned to his friends.
"Don't wait here," he said, aware of the nervousness of the whole
party. "Push down stream, and I'll quickly overtake you."
Without waiting for further explanation, he leaped the slight space and
started up the lawn on a loping trot. For convenience he left his
rifle behind, but made sure that his revolver was in his hip pocket.
He did not apprehend that he would need the weapon in the short time he
expected to be absent, but if anything went awry it would be more
useful than the rifle.
In that moment of profound stillness following the disappearance of the
young man among the trees grouped about the lawn, the motionless people
on the boat felt a thrill of terror at the unmistakable sound of oars
from some point on the river not distant.
"Let us land and take refuge in your house," suggested young Wharton;
"we cannot make a decent fight in this boat."
"We shall have a better chance than in the house," was the reply of the
physician; "the bank of the river is shaded by trees a little further
down; we must lose no time in getting there, and avoid the least noise."
There were two long poles belonging to the boat, one of which was
grasped by Wharton, while Anderson swayed the other, the remainder
watching their movements, which could not have been more skillful.
Pressing the end against the bank, and afterwards against the clayey
bottom, the craft speedily swung several rods from shore.
While the two men were thus employed, the others peered off in the
gloom and listened for a repetition of the sounds that had frightened
them a few minutes before. They were not heard again, nor could the
straining vision detect anything of the dreaded object, which could not
be far away. Not a person on board doubted that a number of their
enemies were near and searching for them. Dr. Marlowe would have taken
comfort from this fact had the circumstances been different; for the
men who were hunting for him would go to his house, since it was there
they must gain their first knowledge of his flight; but, as he viewed
it, it was impossible that they should be wholly ignorant of the boat
and its occupants, which must have made most of the distance before
night closed in.
It followed, therefore, that if they were looking for the doctor and
his family they were also looking for the boat and the fugitives it
contained. The low-lying shore, with no trees fringing the bank, was
the worst place for him and his friends, and he was in a fever of
eagerness to reach the protecting shadows along shore. The nerves of
all were keyed to the tensest point, when they caught the dim outlines
of the overhanging growth, with the leafage as exuberant as it always
is in a subtropical region at that season of the year. The men toiled
with vigor and care, while the others glanced from the gloom of the
river to the deeper gloom of the bank, which seemed to recede as they
labored toward it. With a relief that cannot be imagined the bulky
craft glided into the bank of deeper gloom, which so wrapped it about
that it was invisible from any point more than a dozen yards distant.
It is inconceivable how a narrower escape could have come about, for
the two men had hardly ceased poling, allowing the boat to move forward
with the momentum already gained, when their enemies were discovered.
Mary Marlowe's arm was interlocked with that of her father, when she
nervously clutched it and whispered:
"Yonder is their boat!"
All saw the terrifying sight at the same moment. Almost opposite, and
barely fifty yards out on the river, could be traced a moving shadow,
the outlines of which showed a craft similarly shaped to their own,
except that it was somewhat smaller and sat lower in the water. The
men were too dimly seen for their number to be counted or their motions
observed, but, as in the former instance, the sounds indicated that
they were using paddles.
Since it was certain that the natives were searching for the fugitives
in the boat under the shadows of the bank every one of the latter
wondered that the pursuers remained out in the stream, when there was
need of unimpeded vision. They half expected their enemies to turn to
the left and come directly for them. But nothing of the kind took
place. The craft headed down the river, the sound of the paddles so
slight that only the closely listening ear could hear them, until it
melted in the gloom and vanished from sight.
It was a vast relief for the moment, but little comfort could our
friends take from the fact. Their enemies were not likely to go far,
when they would suspect that something of the nature described had
occurred, and they would return and grope along shore for their
victims. So certain was Dr. Marlowe of this turn that he believed the
wisest course was for the entire party to abandon the boat, and, as may
be said, "take to the woods." They had the whole night before them,
and, with his intimate knowledge of the roads, paths and trails of the
country and jungles, he was confident of guiding them beyond danger and
to some place where, when morning dawned, there would be little to fear
in the way of discovery.
This course would have been taken except for the absence of Jack
Everson. There was no way of apprising him of the change of plan, and,
with his ignorance of the topography of their surroundings, he would be
certain to go astray, and for any one in his situation, to go astray
meant death.