A STORM BREWING--IT BURSTS, AND PRODUCES CONSEQUENCES--THE PARTY TAKE TO
THE WATER PER FORCE--ALL SAVED.
"Ah, Bryan! `a friend in need is a friend indeed,'" said Frank, as he
sat on a rock watching the blacksmith and his two Indians while they
performed the operation of skinning the bear, whose timely destruction
has been related in the last chapter. "I must say I never saw a man
stand his ground so well, with a brute like that stealing kisses from
his cheek. Were they sweet, Bryan? Did they remind you of the fair
maid of Derry, hey?"
"Ah! thrue for ye," replied the blacksmith, as he stepped to a rock for
the purpose of whetting his knife; "yer honour was just in time to save
me a power o' throuble. Bad skran to the baste! it would have taken
three or four rounds at laste to have finished him nately off, for
there's no end o' fat on his ribs that would have kep' the knife from
goin' far in."
Frank laughed at this free-and-easy way of looking at it. "So you think
you would have killed him, do you, if I had not saved you the trouble?"
"Av coorse I do. Shure a man is better than a baste any day; and
besides, had I not a frind at my back ridy to help me?" Bryan cast a
comical leer at La Roche as he said this, and the poor Frenchman
blushed, for he felt that his conduct in the affair had not been very
praiseworthy. It is due to La Roche to say, however, that no sooner had
he found himself at the top of the tree, and had a moment to reflect,
than he slid rapidly to the bottom again, and ran to the assistance of
his friend, not, however, in time to render such assistance available,
as he came up just at the moment the bear fell.
In half an hour afterwards the two large canoes came up, and Bryan and
his little friend had to undergo a rapid fire of witticism from their
surprised and highly-amused comrades. Even Moses was stirred up to say
that "Bryan, him do pratty well; he most good 'nuff to make an Eskimo!"
Having embarked the skin of the bear, the canoes once more resumed their
usual order and continued on their way. The carcass of the bear being
useless for food, was left for the wolves; and the claws, which were
nearly as large as a man's finger, were given by Frank to the
blacksmith, that he might make them into a necklace, as the Indians do,
and keep it in remembrance of his rencounter.
But the weather was now beginning to change. Dick Prince, whose black
eye was ever roving about observantly, told Massan that a storm was
brewing, and that the sooner he put ashore in a convenient spot the
better. But Stanley was anxious to get on, having a long journey before
him, at the termination of which there would be little enough time to
erect a sufficient protection against the winter of the north; so he
continued to advance along shore until they came to a point beyond which
there was a very deep bay that would take them many hours to coast. By
making a traverse, however, in a direct line to the next point, they
might cross it in a much shorter time.
"How say you, Prince? shall we cross?" asked Stanley, as they rested on
their paddles and cast furtive glances up at the dark clouds and across
the still quiet bay.
Prince shook his head. "I fear we won't have time to cross. The clouds
are driving too fast and growin' black."
"Well, then, we had better encamp," said Stanley.--"Is there a proper
place, Massan, hereabouts?"
"No, sir," replied the guide. "The stones on the beach are the only
pillows within six mile o' us."
"Ho! then, forward, boys, make a bold push for it," cried Stanley; "if
it does begin to blow before we're over, we can run back again at all
events."
In another moment the canoes swept out to sea, and made for the point
far ahead like race-horses. Although the clouds continued to gather,
the wind did not rise, and it seemed as though they would get over
easily, when a sudden gust came off the shore--a direction whence, from
the appearance of the clouds, it had not been expected. Ruffling the
surface of the water for a few seconds, it passed away.
"Give way, boys, give way," cried Massan, using his large steering
paddle with a degree of energy that sent the canoe plunging forward.
"We can't go back, an' if the storm bursts off the shore--"
A loud peal of thunder drowned the remainder of the sentence, and in a
few seconds the wind that had been dreaded came whistling violently off
the shore and covered the sea with foam. The waves soon began to rise,
and ere long the frail barks, which were ill calculated to weather a
storm, were careering over them and shipping water at every plunge.
It now became a matter of life and death with them that they should gain
the point, for, deeply loaded as they were, it was impossible that they
could float long in such a sea. It is true that a wind off the shore
does not usually raise what sailors would consider much of a sea; but it
must be remembered that, although it was off shore, the bay which they
were crossing extended far inland, so that the gale had a wide sweep of
water to act upon before it reached them. Besides this, as has already
been explained, canoes are not like boats. Their timbers are weak, the
bark of which they are made is thin, the gum which makes their seams
tight is easily knocked off in cold water, and, in short, they cannot
face a sea on which a boat might ride like a sea-gull.
For a considerable time the men strained every nerve to gain the
wished-for point of land, but with so little success that it became
evident they would never reach it. The men began to show signs of
flagging, and cast uneasy glances towards Stanley, as if they had lost
all hope of accomplishing their object, and waited for him to suggest
what they should do. Poor Mrs Stanley sat holding on to the gunwale
with one hand and clasping Edith round the waist with the other, as she
gazed wistfully towards the cape ahead, which was now almost lost to
view under the shadow of a dark cloud that rolled towards them like a
black pall laden with destruction.
"God help us!" murmured Stanley, in an undertone, as he scanned the
seaward horizon, which was covered with leaden clouds and streaks of
lurid light, beneath which the foaming sea leaped furiously.
"Call upon Me in the time of trouble, and I will deliver thee," said
Mrs Stanley, who overheard the exclamation.
Stanley either heard her not or his mind was too deeply concentrated on
the critical nature of their position to make any reply. As she buried
her face in her hands, Edith threw her trembling arms round her mother
and hid her face in her bosom. Even Chimo seemed to understand their
danger, for he crept closer to the side of his young mistress and whined
in a low tone, as if in sympathy. The waves had now increased to such a
degree that it required two of the men to bail incessantly in order to
prevent their being swamped, and as Stanley cast a hurried glance at the
other canoes, which were not far off, he observed that it was as much as
they could do to keep afloat. "Could we not run back, Massan?" asked
Stanley, in despair.
"Unposs'ble, sir," replied the guide, whose voice was almost drowned by
the whistling of the wind. "We're more nor half-way over, an' it would
only blow us farther out to sea if we was to try."
While the guide spoke, Stanley was gazing earnestly in the direction of
the horizon.
"Round with you, Massan," he exclaimed suddenly; "put the canoe about
and paddle straight out to sea.--Hallo!" he shouted to the other canoes,
"follow us out to sea--straight out."
The men looked aghast at this extraordinary order. "Look alive, lads,"
continued their leader; "I see an island away there to leeward. Perhaps
it's only a rock, but any way it's our only chance."
The canoes' heads were turned round, and in another moment they were
driving swiftly before the wind in the direction of the open sea.
"Right, right," murmured Dick Prince, as they made towards this new
source of hope; "mayhap it's only a bit o' ice, but even that's better
than nothin'."
"If 'tis only ice," cried La Roche, "ye have ver' pauvre chance at all."
"Shure, an' if we are to go ashore at all, at all," said Bryan, whose
spirits had suddenly risen with this gleam of hope from fifty degrees
below to fifty above zero--"if we are to go ashore at all, at all, it's
better to land on the ice than on the wather."
With such a breeze urging them on, the three canoes soon approached what
appeared to be a low sand-bank, on which the sea was dashing in white
foam. But from the tossing of the waves between them and the beach, it
was difficult to form a conjecture as to its size. Indeed, at times
they could scarcely see it at all, owing to the darkness of the day and
the heavy rain which began to fall just as they approached; and more
than once Stanley's heart sank when he lost sight of the bank, and he
began to think that he had made a mistake, and that they were actually
flying out to the deep sea, in which case all hope would be gone for
ever. But God's mercy was extended to them in this hour of peril. The
island appeared to grow larger as they neared it, and at last they were
within a stone's-throw of the shore. But a new danger assailed them
here. The largest canoe, which neared the island first, had begun to
leak, and took in water so fast that the utmost efforts of those who
bailed could not keep it under, and from the quantity that was now
shipped they made very little way. To add to the horror of the scene,
the sky became very dark, and another crash of thunder pealed forth
accompanied by a blinding flash of lightning.
"Paddle, boys, paddle for your lives!" cried Stanley, throwing off his
coat, and seizing a tin dish, with which he began to throw out the
water.
The canoe rose on a huge wave which broke all round it. This nearly
filled it with water, and carried it towards the shore with such
velocity that it seemed as if they should be dashed in pieces; but they
fell back into the trough of the sea, and lay motionless like a heavy
log, and in a sinking condition.
"Now, lads, look out for the next wave, and give way with a will," cried
Massan. The worthy steersman acted rather too energetically on his own
advice, for he dipped his paddle with such force that it snapped in two.
"Be ready to jump out," cried Dick Prince, standing up in the bow in
order to give more power to his strokes.
As he spoke, Stanley turned to his wife, and said, "Jessie, hold on by
my collar; I'll take Eda in my arms." At that instant the canoe gave a
lurch, and before Stanley could grasp his child, they were all
struggling in the sea! At this awful moment, instead of endeavouring to
do as her husband directed, Mrs Stanley instinctively threw her arms
around Edith, and while the waves were boiling over her, she clasped the
child tightly to her bosom with her left arm, while with her right she
endeavoured to raise herself to the surface. Twice she succeeded, and
twice she sank, when a box of merchandise providentially struck her arm.
Seizing this, she raised herself above the water, and poor Edith gasped
convulsively once or twice for air. Then the box was wrenched from her
grasp by a wave, and with a wild shriek she sank again. Just then a
strong arm was thrown around her, her feet touched the ground, and in a
few seconds she was dragged violently from the roaring waves and fell
exhausted on the beach.
"Thanks be to God, we are saved!" murmured Mrs Stanley, as her husband
assisted her to rise and led her beyond the reach of the waves, while
Edith still clung with a deadly grasp to her mother's neck.
"Ay, Jessie, thank God indeed! But for His mercy we should have all
been lost. I was floundering about beside the canoe when your scream
showed me where you were, and enabled me to save you. But rest here, in
the lee of this bale.--I cannot stay by you. Frank is in danger still."
Without waiting for a reply, he sprang from her side and hurried down to
the beach. Here everything was in the utmost confusion. The two large
canoes had been saved and dragged out of the reach of the waves, and the
men were struggling in the boiling surf to rescue the baggage and
provisions, on which latter their very lives depended. As Stanley
reached the scene of action, he observed several of the men watching the
small canoe which contained Frank and his two Indians. It had been left
some distance behind by the others, and was now approaching with arrow
speed on the summit of a large wave. Suddenly the top of the billow
curled over, and in another moment the canoe was turned bottom up! Like
a cork it danced on the wave's white crest, then falling beneath the
thundering mass of water, it was crushed to pieces and cast empty upon
the beach. But Frank and his men swam like otters, and the party on
shore watched them with anxious looks as they breasted manfully over the
billows. At last a towering wave came rolling majestically forward. It
caught the three swimmers in its rough embrace, and carrying them along
on its crest, launched them on the beach, where it left them struggling
with the retreating water. Those who have bathed in rough weather on an
exposed coast know well how difficult it is to regain a firm footing on
loose sand while a heavy wave is sweeping backward into its parent
ocean. Frank and the two Indians experienced this; and they might have
struggled there till their strength had been exhausted, were it not for
Stanley, Prince, and Massan, who rushed simultaneously into the water
and rescued them.
As the whole party had now, by the goodness of God, reached the land in
safety, they turned their undivided energies towards the bales and boxes
which were rolling about in the surf. Many of these had been already
collected, and were carried to the spot where Mrs Stanley and Edith lay
under the shelter of a bale. As the things were successively brought up
they were piled around the mother and child, who soon found themselves
pretty well sheltered from the wind, though not from the rain, which
still fell in torrents. Soon after Frank came to them, and said that
all the things were saved, and that it was time to think of getting up
some sort of shelter for the night. This was very much needed, for poor
Edith was beginning to shiver from the wet and cold.
"Now then, Francois, Massan," shouted Frank, "lend a hand here to build
a house for Eda. We'll be all as snug as need be in a few minutes."
Despite the cold and her recent terror, the poor child could not help
smiling at the idea of building a house in a few minutes, and it was
with no little curiosity that she watched the operations of the men.
Meanwhile Mr Stanley brought some wine in a pannikin, and made Edith
and his wife drink a little. This revived them greatly, and as the rain
had now almost ceased they rose and endeavoured to wring the water out
of their garments. In less than half an hour the men piled the bales
and boxes in front of the largest canoe, which was turned bottom up, and
secured firmly in that position by an embankment of sand. Over the top
of all, three oil-cloths were spread and lashed down, thus forming a
complete shelter, large enough to contain the whole party. At one end
of this curious house Mr Stanley made a separate apartment for his wife
and child, by placing two large bales and a box as a partition; and
within this little space Edith soon became very busy in arranging
things, and "putting the house to rights," as she said, as long as the
daylight lasted, for after it went away they had neither candles nor
fire, as the former had been soaked and broken, and as for the latter no
wood could be found on the island. The men's clothes were, of course,
quite wet, so they cut open a bale of blankets, which had not been so
much soaked as the other goods, having been among the first things that
were washed ashore.
At the time they were wrecked the dashing spray and the heavy rain,
together with the darkness of the day, had prevented the shipwrecked
voyageurs from ascertaining the nature of the island on which they had
been cast; and as the night closed in while they were yet engaged in the
erection of their temporary shelter, they had to lie down to rest in
ignorance on this point. After such a day of unusual fatigue and
excitement, they all felt more inclined for rest than food; so, instead
of taking supper, they all lay down huddled together under the canoe,
and slept soundly, while the angry winds whistled round them, and the
great sea roared and lashed itself into foam on the beach, as if
disappointed that the little band of adventurers had escaped and were
now beyond the reach of its impotent fury.