THE FLOOD.
When he reached the blast lamp, which was raised on a tall tripod, Vane
stood with his back to the pulsating blaze while he grasped the details
of a somewhat impressive scene. A little up-stream of him the river
leaped out of the darkness, breaking into foaming waves, and a wall of
dripping firs flung back the roar it made, the first rows of serried
trunks standing out hard and sharp in the fierce white light. Nearer
where he stood, a projecting spur of rock narrowed in the river, which
boiled tumultuously against its foot, while about half-way across the
top of a giant boulder rose above the flood.
Vane could only just see it, because a mass of driftwood, which was
momentarily growing, stretched from bank to bank. A big log, drifting
down sideways, had brought up upon the boulder and once fixed had seized
and held fast each succeeding trunk. Some had been driven partly out
upon those that had preceded them; some had been drawn beneath the
latter, and catching the bottom had jambed. Then the rest had been
wedged by the current into the gathering mass; trunks, branches, and
brushwood all finding a place. When the stream is strong, a jamb, as it
is called, usually extends downwards, as well as rises, as the water it
pens back increases in depth, until it forms a solid barrier from
surface to bed. If it occurs during a log-drive, the river is choked
with lumber. Bent figures were at work with axes at the shoreward end of
the mass; others had crawled out along the logs, in search of another
point where they could advantageously be attacked; but Vane, watching
them with practised eyes, decided that they were largely throwing their
toil away. Next, he glanced down-stream; but powerful as the light was,
it did not pierce far into the darkness and the rain, and the mad white
rush of the rapid vanished abruptly into the surrounding gloom. Then he
caught the clink of a hammer on a drill, and seeing Salter not far away
strode towards him.
"How are you getting to work?" he asked.
Salter pointed to the foot of the rock they stood upon. "I reckoned if
we could put a shot in yonder, we might cut out stone enough to clear
the butts of the larger logs that are keying up the jamb."
"You're wasting time--starting at the wrong place."
"It's possible, but what am I to do? I'd sooner split that boulder or
chop down to the king log there, but the boys can't get across."
"I think I could," Vane answered. "I'll try, if it's necessary."
Salter expostulated, "I want to point out that you're the boss director
of this company. I don't know what you're making out of it, but you can
hire men to do the kind of work you think of undertaking for three
dollars a day."
"We'll let the boys try it, if they're willing." Vane raised his voice.
"Are any of you open to earn twenty dollars? I'll pay that to the man
who'll put a stick of giant-powder in yonder boulder, and another twenty
to whoever can find the king log and chop it through."
Three or four of them crept cautiously along the driftwood bridge. It
heaved and worked beneath them; the foam sluiced across it, and the
stream forced the thinner tops of shattered trees above the barrier. It
was obvious that the men were risking life and limb, and there was a cry
from the rest when one of them went down and momentarily disappeared. He
scrambled to his feet again, but those behind him stopped, bracing
themselves against the stream, knee-deep in rushing froth. Most of them
had followed rough and dangerous occupation in the bush; but they were
not professional river-Jacks trained to high proficiency in log-driving,
and one turning shouted to the watchers on the bank.
"This jamb's not solid," he explained. "She's working open and shutting;
and you can't tell where the breaks are." He stooped and rubbed his leg,
and Vane understood him to add: "Figured I had it smashed."
Vane swung round towards Carroll, who was standing close by. "We give
them a lead."
Salter ventured another remonstrance: "Stay where you are. How are you
going to manage if the boys can't tackle the thing?"
"They haven't as much at stake as I have," was Vane's reply. "I'm a
director of the company as you pointed out. Give me two sticks of
giant-powder, some fuse, and detonators."
After cramming the blasting material into his pocket, Vane called to
Carroll: "Are you coming with me?"
"Since I can't stop you, I suppose I'd better go," Carroll replied.
They sprang down the bank. Vane crawled out on the working timber, with
Carroll, who carried a heavy hammer, a few feet behind him. The perilous
bridge they traversed groaned beneath their feet, but they had joined
the other men before they came to any particularly troublesome opening.
Then the cluster of wet figures was brought up by a gap filled with
leaping foam, in the midst of which brushwood swung to and fro and
projecting branches ground on one another. Whether there was solid
timber a foot or two beneath, or only the entrance to some cavity by
which the stream swept through the barrier, there was nothing to show,
but Vane set his lips and jumped. He alighted on something that bore
him, and when the others followed, floundering and splashing, the
deliberation which had hitherto characterised their movements suddenly
deserted them. They had reached the limit beyond which it was no longer
useful.
When they had crossed the gap, Vane and those behind him blundered on in
hot fury. They had risen to the demand on them, and the curious psychic
change had come; now they must achieve success or face annihilation. But
in this there was nothing unusual; it is the alternative offered to many
a log-driver, miner, and sailor-man.
Neither Vane nor Carroll, nor any of those who assisted them, had any
clear recollection of what they did. Somehow they reached the boulder;
somehow they plied axe or iron-hooked peevie, while the unstable,
foam-lapped platform rocked beneath their feet. Every movement entailed
a peril no one could calculate, but they savagely toiled on. When Vane
began to swing a hammer above a drill, or whom he got it from, he did
not know, any more than he remembered when he had torn off and thrown
away his jacket, though the sticks of giant-powder, which had been in
his pocket, lay close by upon the stone. Sparks sprang from the drill
which Carroll held and fell among the coils of snaky fuse; but that did
not trouble either, and it was only when Vane was breathless that he
changed places with his companion.
About them, bowed figures that breathed in stertorous gasps grappled
desperately with grinding, smashing logs. Sometimes they were forced up
in harsh distinctness by a dazzling glare; sometimes they faded into
blurred shadows as the pulsating flame upon the bank sank a little or
was momentarily blown aside; but all the while gorged veins rose on
bronzed foreheads and toil-hardened muscles were taxed to the uttermost.
At last, when a trunk rolled beneath him, Carroll missed a stroke and
realised with a shock of dismay that it was not the drill he had brought
his hammer down upon.
"I couldn't help it," he gasped. "Where did I hit you?"
"Get on," Vane said hoarsely. "I can hold the drill."
Carroll struck for a few more minutes, after which he flung down the
hammer and inserted the giant-powder into the holes sunk in the stone.
Next he lighted the fuse; and, warning the others, they hastily
recrossed the dangerous bridge. They had reached the edge of the forest
when a flash sprang up amidst the foam and a sharp crash was followed by
a deafening, drawn-out uproar. Rending, grinding, smashing, the jamb
broke up, hammered upon the partly shattered boulder, and carrying it
away or driving over it washed in tremendous ruin down the rapid. When
the wild clamour had subsided, Salter gave the men some instructions,
and then as they approached the lamp noticed Vane's reddened hand.
"That looks a nasty smash; you want to get it seen to," he remarked.
"I'll get it dressed at the settlement; we'll make an early start
to-morrow," said Vane. "We were lucky in breaking the jamb; but you'll
have the same trouble over again any time a heavy flood brings down an
unusual quantity of driftwood."
"It's what I'd expect," agreed Salter.
"Then something will have to be done to prevent it. I'll go into the
matter when I reach the city."
Carroll and Vane walked back to the shack, where the former bound up his
comrade's injured hand, and, after a rest, left the mine early next
morning. Vane got his hand dressed when they reached the little mining
town at the head of the railroad, and on the following day they arrived
in Vancouver.