IN PERIL OF DEATH
The storm which raged with unabated fury for a full half hour was one
of the severest ever experienced on the St. John River. Hail mingled
with the rain, and did considerable damage to the crops which happened
to be caught in its on-rushing sweep. Trees were blown down, as well
as several buildings, and in a number of farm houses the glass in the
windows was broken by the fury of the driving hail.
While the storm was at its height, Eben sought shelter in the lee of
the cabin. This afforded him some protection, and from here he watched
anxiously to see how the boat would bear herself. During vivid flashes
of lightning the whole country around became illuminated, and he
glanced occasionally toward the shore upon his right. He had never
been afraid of a thunder storm, so it did not affect him now. In fact,
he rather enjoyed it, for it harmonised with the state of his mind. If
only the anchor would hold; that was his sole concern. He thought of
his prisoners within the cabin, and chuckled. He knew what a noise the
hail was making upon the roof, and he could hear the men pounding at
times upon the door and begging to be released.
Another quivering flash, followed instantly by a more terrific roar of
thunder, told Eben that something had been hit not far away. He caught
a glimpse of the trees along the shore and then all was dark. But that
fleeting vision was enough to cause him to straighten suddenly up. The
"Eb and Flo" was drifting before the wind! Another flash showed that
she was making fast for the main channel, and something had to be done
at once to save her. It was high tide now, he was well aware, and
should the boat, heavily loaded as she was, ground on the soft marshy
flats across the river, it would be next to impossible to get her off
again. Apart from the valuable cargo, the loss during the busy
carrying season would mean much. He must get the boat under steerage
way, and head her down stream.
It took him but a second to reach the cabin door and tear it open. A
bright flash showed him two white faces at the bottom of the stairs.
"Hustle up here, an' give a hand," he ordered.
"W-what's wrong?" Donaster asked, shaking with fear.
"Never mind what's wrong. I ain't got time to explain. Git a move on."
The men at once obeyed, scrambled up the steps, and tumbled on deck.
"Come on," Eben commanded. "Follow me."
This, however, was no easy thing to do, for the two men found it most
difficult to make their way across the blocks of stone. The lightning
blinded and dazed them so much that they often stumbled and fell, so by
the time they reached their guide who was standing by the halliard,
their bodies were bruised in a number of places.
"Lay hold on this rope," Eben ordered. "We've got to hist the sail or
this boat'll be aground. Now, pull fer all yer worth."
"Without a word the two men did as they were bidden, and as the sail
slowly rose it flapped wildly in the wind, and threatened to tear
itself loose from the yards. Fortunately at this critical moment the
wind lulled for a brief spell, which enabled them to accomplish the
task, and make the halliard fast.
"Now come over here," Eben again commanded. "I want ye to look after
the sheet-line." He darted across the deck, the men following him as
fast as possible. "Look after this rope," he continued, "an' do jist
as I say." He then sprang aft, and laid hold of the wheel.
Although this had taken but a short time the "Eb and Flo" had already
drifted into the main channel and in a few minutes she would have been
aground on the opposite shore. A quick turn of the wheel caused the
boat to fall off to the left, and presently she was under way, headed
down the river. And not an instant too soon, for scudding through the
rough water she cleared by only a few yards the edge of the soft
ground. With sail hauled closer than was safe, she sped forward and at
length reached a wider stretch of water. Eben breathed a deep sigh of
relief when the danger was past, and he steered the boat a little more
to the left. The two men at the sheet obeyed his every command, and he
smiled to himself as he remembered how high and mighty they had been
when they boarded the boat that evening.
The storm was now rolling away to the east, and the wind was lessening.
But still there was a fine sailing breeze, so by exercising special
care, Eben was able to make good progress as he beat from side to side
of the river. He was well acquainted with the course, and he was
greatly helped by the steady gleam of a lighthouse ahead. He made up
his mind to keep on sailing all night, and thus reach the city early
the next morning. If the wind held firm, he knew that he could run on
longer tacks where the river was wider in the lower part of the Reach
and in Grand Bay. He was certain that his father would be very anxious
in the morning when he found that the "Eb and Flo" had disappeared.
But he would show the folks at home that he could be depended upon, and
could handle the boat in an emergency. He would go to the city,
discharge his cargo and return in triumph to Beech Cove. Just what to
do with his passengers he was not sure. At first he felt inclined to
report them to the police. But upon second thought, he decided to let
them go. But for their assistance he would not have been able to save
the boat, and he was somewhat grateful to them now. In fact, he felt
quite friendly with his visitors.
"How d'ye feel?" he at length called out, just after he had taken
another tack for a long run across the river.
"Wet to the skin," Donaster angrily replied. "When are we to let up on
this job? I'm sick of it."
"Same here," his companion agreed.
"Well, I guess ye'll have to make the best of it, me hearties. We'll
reach the city early in the mornin', if the wind holds. Ye kin change
yer clothes then."
The men made no reply, but Donaster, leaving Bill to manage the sheet,
scrambled over to Eben's side.
"My, it's confoundedly dark and nasty to-night," he growled. "It's
absolutely beastly."
"Don't like it much, eh?" Eben queried. "Ye got more'n ye expected,
didn't ye?"
"Should say I did. But I thought you had Miss Randall on board. Where
in h---- is she, anyway? You know, don't you?"
"So it's her ye was lookin' fer, was it?"
"Certainly. Didn't I tell you so?"
"No, ye didn't. Ye only asked me if I had a woman on board."
"Oh, well, you understood all right, so you needn't make believe you
didn't. You knew I was looking for Miss Randall."
"But she's dead, isn't she?"
"Dead! When did she die?"
"Why, they was searchin' fer her body down river."
Donaster laughed, and reaching out laid his hand upon Eben's arm.
"Say, stop your fooling, will you? Miss Randall's not dead. She ran
away, and came on board this boat. Own up now, like a good fellow."
"What did she run away fer?"
"Because she doesn't want to marry me. She's acted very foolishly, and
I'm bound that she shan't escape. I shall find her, no matter where
she is."
"Did she promise she'd marry ye?"
"No, she never did. But her parents said I could have her."
"She doesn't love ye, then?"
"Love, be d----! What do I care about love? There's no such a thing
as love. It's the girl I want. Love has nothing to do with it."
Eben made no reply. His attention was taken up with bringing the boat
around for a short starboard tack, and in giving orders to Bill. When
she was running steadily once more, his mind reverted to what he had
just heard. So the girl had thrown over Donaster, too, he mused, the
same as she had treated him at the quarry. He felt a certain degree of
sympathy for the man. Why should he not help him, and take her away
from Hampton? It would be some satisfaction, for the spirit of revenge
was still rankling in his soul. But Donaster didn't love her. He had
said that there was no such a thing as love. He knew that the man was
wrong, for he himself loved the girl as he had never loved anyone
before. She meant everything to him, and his life was bleak and
desolate since she had left the boat. Why should Hampton have her?
"Look here, you haven't answered my question." It was Donaster
speaking.
"What question?"
"I asked you where Miss Randall is. I am sure you know."
"Yer mistaken, then. I don't know where she is." Eben suddenly
remembered the stone he had hurled through the window. He realised
that the less he said the better it would be. If he should commit
himself in the least degree as to what he knew about Miss Randall, he
was certain that Donaster would continue to bother him with no end of
questions.
"But surely you must know where she is," the man persisted. "I am
positive that she went up river with you on this boat. What became of
her after she left you?"
"I told ye I don't know where she is. Ye'll have to go an' find her
yerself, if yer so interested in her."
Several times during the night Donaster attempted in vain to wrest the
secret from Eben, and his failure made him angry. Lack of sleep, his
wet clothes, and the stubbornness of the boy annoyed him. But he could
do nothing, so at length, giving up in despair, he went down into the
cabin, and lighted a fire in the little stove, for he was very chilly.
And there he crouched, leaving the work of looking after the sail to
his companion. Selfishness bulked large in his nature, and this was
never more apparent than now. His own comfort was the first
consideration, no matter how much others might suffer.
After midnight the last clouds rolled away and the stars appeared. The
gale subsided to a fair sailing breeze, and the "Eb and Flo" ploughed
steadily on her way. Eben was tired as he stood hour after hour at the
wheel, and he knew from the motion of the man tending the sail that he
too was weary. There was nothing else, however, for them to do, and so
without a word of complaint each kept at his task.
Dawn found them at the entrance to Grand Bay, the largest body of water
in the entire river. From here a long close-hauled tack would bring
them to the Narrows, a rocky gorge-like formation leading to the noted
Reversible Falls below. The tide now was running down, and this
greatly aided the boat in her onward sweep. Far away in the east the
sky rapidly reddened, and the light of a new day was dispelling the
shades of night. Eben's heart caught the glow of the rising sun, and a
spirit of elation possessed him. He had brought the boat in safety
this far, and in another hour he hoped to have her tied up at one of
the wharves, ready to slip through the falls when the tide served.
Just before entering the Narrows, Eben called Donaster up from the
cabin. He had to shout several times before he received any response,
for the man had fallen asleep in his chair. He stumbled sleepily on
deck and looked around.
"Why, we're almost to the city!" he exclaimed.
"Sure. Ye didn't imagine we was tied up to a tree, did ye?"
Donaster walked to the side of the boat and looked over.
"I forgot all about the motor-boat last night," he remarked. "But I
see it hung fast all right."
"An' a wonder it did," Eben replied. "The rope must have been a good
one. It held better 'n the anchor. Guess it's gone fer sure."
"Chain break?" Donaster queried.
"Something's gone, that's certain. We're not draggin' the anchor,
anyway. We couldn't git this fer with the anchor towin' below. It
would have caught in something or other an' brought us up if it had
been there. But it ain't there. The chain must have snapped an' let
the boat go adrift. It broke once before an' dad fixed it with a piece
of wire. Now we've got to buy a new anchor, an' mebbe a new chain. It
doesn't pay to botch things, does it?"
Donaster made no reply, but stood looking straight before him. He had
not heard Eben's words, for his mind was upon matters of more
importance to him than an old chain and anchor. They were gliding down
the Narrows now, the wind and current bearing them rapidly along. They
had reached the first turn and had swung sharply to the left, when the
first glimpse of the city appeared to view. In another quarter of an
hour they hoped to be at one of the wharves, and the boat tied up.
The current was much swifter now, and Eben was becoming anxious. He
knew the danger of the place, and hitherto his father had always
piloted the "Eb and Flo" through the Narrows. If the breeze would only
hold, he could easily make thee wharf. Should it fail, there would be
serious trouble as the current would bear them rapidly down to the
falls. But so far the wind served, and the boat sped steadily forward.
A few minutes more and the wharf would be reached. Eben felt quite
safe now, and the anxious expression disappeared from his face.
But such was not to be, for in a twinkling the wind died down, and the
sail hung limp and useless. With a startled cry, Eben gave the wheel a
rapid turn and headed the boat for the shore, hoping thus to escape
from the racing current into slower water to the left. But the "Eb and
Flo" was in the grip of a stronger master, and swinging partly around,
obeyed the current's strong behest. Leaving the now useless wheel,
Eben rushed to the side of the boat and lifted up his voice in a series
of ringing calls for help. He was heard on shore, and he saw men
running to and fro. Several tugs were lying at their wharves, but no
smoke issued from their funnels. What was he to do? He looked ahead,
and the wild, boiling, leaping waters of the falls seemed terribly
near. Instantly he thought of the motorboat. It would save them. But
Donaster and his companion had thought of it first and were already on
board. The rope was almost untied when Donaster called to him.
"Come with us. This is our only chance. Hustle."
Only for a second did Eben hesitate. He was young and life was dear.
But he must not leave. He was in charge of the "Eb and Flo," and no
true commander ever deserted his post of duty. He would not be a
coward. The engine was already started, and the propeller was churning
the water.
"Hurry up," Donaster impatiently ordered.
"I'm not going," was the reply. "Hustle yourselves."
"Are you crazy, boy? It's sure death down there!"
"Can't help it. I'm goin' to stay."
Donaster was about to further insist, when Bill stepped quickly
forward, shoved him roughly aside, and tore away the rope from its
fastening.
"Leave the fool if he doesn't want to come," he growled. "We can't
waste any more time."
The motor-boat immediately left the "Eb and Flo," and was soon bucking
across the current to the left. Eben watched them as if in a dream.
He felt now that nothing could save him, for no one could go through
the falls at almost low tide, especially on a stone laden boat, and
live. The roar of the leaping waters was pounding in his ears, and the
boat was moving more rapidly than ever. In a few minutes all hope of
rescue would be past, for the tide was now running like a mill-sluice.
Eben was standing near the bow of the boat, his heart beating fast, and
his face white as death. How often he had heard his father tell of the
boats which had gone through the falls, and those on board had never
been heard of again. Great whirlpools below, so it was believed, had
sucked down their bodies into vast underground passages. And soon his
body would be there! The thought was appalling, maddening. His eyes
were riveted upon the breakers ahead. They fascinated him as they
leaped and curled. Their roar sounded like voices of demons, and the
dancing spray appeared like long white curving hands reaching out ready
to grasp their victim.
Suddenly above the thunder of the waters a hoarse blast rent the air.
Eben turned, and as he did so his heart gave a great bound, for there
but a short distance away was a powerful tug. Where she had come from
he did not know. Neither did he care. It was enough for him that she
was near, with men standing on the bow with coils of ropes in their
hands. They shouted aloud, but he could not understand what was said.
The tug was coming across the current, and running a fearful risk in
attempting the rescue. Then a rope was flung across the bow of the "Eb
and Flo," and in a twinkling Eben was upon it. Never in his life had
he pulled so hard and fast, for everything depended upon his efforts
now. How long that rope seemed to be. He could hear the shouts of the
men on the tug, and they seemed to be words of encouragement. The rope
was long, and the warp, for which he was pulling, was dragging heavily
in the water. Could he get it aboard? Would he have the strength?
These thoughts passed through his mind with lightning rapidity. But
still he kept on, and ere long he had the joy of seeing the big hook
loom in sight. Then an almost superhuman pull, and the warp was on
deck, and securely fastened around the capstan. A shout went up from
the tug when this had been accomplished, and Eben staggered back,
exhausted by his mighty efforts. He saw the warp suddenly tighten, and
felt the "Eb and Flo" swerve to the right. Would the line hold? That
was the all-important question now. The strain was terrible, and the
rail over which it passed snapped like matchwood. It creaked, as it
bit into the deal below, and at times Eben imagined he could see the
strands parting. Fortunately it was a new rope and held firm as the
tug battled its way against that racing current. Inch by inch it
moved, dragging its heavy, helpless burden from the jaws of
destruction. There were no shouts now on board the tug, for in the
presence of so great a danger and with so much at stake lips were
silent.
Eben stood like a statue near the capstan, his eyes fixed upon that
straining warp, to him the rope of deliverance. He knew that it was
holding, and that the tug was making better headway now. The crisis
was past, and in a few minutes he felt sure that he would be safe.
Neither was he mistaken, for ere long the tug escaped the deadly
current by drawing somewhat to the left. Then from the shore he heard
cheers and shouts of excited men who had gathered there. Several
blasts from the tug sounded forth as signals of her success, as she
triumphantly ploughed her way to a wharf on the right.
Eben could not recall very clearly what happened after that. He heard
numerous voices as the boat was being tied up, saw as in a dream men
crowding on board, and listened to their questions and words of
congratulation. He was dazed by the confusion, and longed to be away
by himself that he might think. He was only able to do this, however,
when the crowd had departed, and he was left alone upon deck. He had
not deserted his post of duty, and a thrill of pleasure swept over him
at the thought that he had been true to his trust. Then his mind
turned suddenly to Jess Randall. He wondered if she would ever hear of
what he had done, and if she did, would she be proud of him?