A MEETING OF MATES.
With starvation staring our raftmates in the face, the problem of how
they were to escape from their present predicament became a most
important one. The first suggestion was that they construct a small
and easily managed raft from a portion of the material contained in the
_Venture_. They foresaw that it would be impossible for them to propel
even this against the swift current and reach the river, where they
might procure relief from some passing boat. Still, even to drift with
the current, or at the best to work their way diagonally across it,
with the hope of reaching some source of food supply, seemed better
than to remain where they were, and accordingly they began to collect
material for a raft.
They had hardly started at this when Worth called out that he saw a
canoe lodged in a clump of shrubbery.
They all looked where he pointed, and all saw it. Although it was not
more than a hundred yards from them, the full force of the current must
be encountered for the entire distance before one could reach it.
All were agreed that they must obtain it, if possible, and that their
very lives might depend upon getting that canoe. First Billy Brackett
threw off his clothing, and plunging into the chill waters, attempted
to swim to it. He had not covered half the distance before he was
compelled to turn back utterly exhausted. Then Glen Elting and Sumner
undertook the task together, but splendid swimmers as they were, they
could no more stem that resistless flood than they could have flown to
the canoe.
As they were dejectedly resuming their clothing in the "shanty" they
were startled by a shout from outside. Winn Caspar had solved the
problem. While the others were watching the fruitless struggles of
Glen and Sumner from one side of the raft he had slipped overboard from
the other, and swam diagonally across the current to a hedge of
oleanders, the tops of which were still above water. This hedge
extended to the river, and passed within fifty yards of the shrubbery
in which the canoe was caught.
When Winn reached the oleanders he was considerably below the raft, and
of course nearly twice as far from the canoe as when he started. He
had anticipated this, however, and now began to work his way back
against the current by pulling himself from one bush to another. When
he reached a point abreast the raft the others saw him and shouted. He
only waved his hand in reply and kept on, while they watched him with
eager interest. As he gained a position opposite the canoe they
shouted again, but still he kept on, until he was nearly a hundred
yards above it.
Then, after a long rest, he left the friendly oleanders, and struck out
with brave strokes for the coveted object. He was now again swimming
diagonally across the current, and knew that even should he miss the
canoe, he would be borne down to the raft. But he did not miss it. He
had calculated too well for that; and when he again reached the raft,
he brought the _Psyche_ with him.
He was chilled to the bone, numb, and sick with exhaustion; but for
such a royal cheer as greeted him, and the praises that his companions
showered upon him, he would have dared and suffered twice as much. At
the same moment, as if to encourage such brave deeds, the sun shone out
warm and bright, transforming the whole character of the scene with its
cheery warmth.
Sumner Rankin was ready, and with a light heart he stepped into his
beloved craft. Then, with vigorous strokes of his double-bladed
paddle, he shot away towards the river, where he was to remain until he
could persuade a boat of some kind to come to the relief of his
fellow-sufferers.
In spite of the sunlight and their hopes of rescue, the long hours
passed slowly aboard the _Venture_. There was little to do, and
nothing to eat, though Solon did succeed in making a pot of coffee,
which they drank without sugar or milk. In one respect, however, it
was the most successful day of the _Venture's_ entire cruise; for
during those tedious hours Billy Brackett and Winn accomplished the
object for which it had been undertaken. They sold the raft. In
gazing over his flooded plantation and planning for its future, Mr.
Manton realized that with the subsidence of the waters he would have
immediate use for a large quantity of lumber.
"Why not buy ours?" suggested Winn.
"Why not?" answered Mr. Manton.
Five minutes later the bargain was completed that transferred the
ownership of the _Venture_, and crowned Major Caspar's undertaking with
success. It was such a satisfactory arrangement that they only
wondered they had not thought of it before.
"Here the lumber is, just where I want it, and not a cent of freight to
pay," said Mr. Manton.
"Now you and I can get back to Caspar's Mill, and help your father out
with that contract; and it is high time we were there too," said Billy
Brackett to Winn. "Hello! What's this? The _Psyche_ coming back
again? If it is, young Rankin must be having a fit, for he's black in
the face."
"It's Quorum!" shouted Worth. "In the _Cupid_, too! Of all things,
that is the very last I should ever have expected to see!"
Sure enough, it was the faithful negro progressing slowly and with such
awkwardness that the anxious spectators expected to see him upset at
each moment. Nevertheless, he finally succeeded in reaching the raft;
and as they hauled him aboard he gasped, with thankfulness,
"Dat de seckon time dish yer nigger ebber bin in one ob dem ar cooners,
an' him hope he be good an' daid befo' him ebber sperimentin' wif um
agen!"
Quorum had come from the great house, where the _Cupid_ was the sole
craft to be had. It was only after hours of persuasion and
semi-starvation that he had been induced by the other refugees to make
the trip to the raft, which they had discovered soon after daylight.
He described a pitiful state of affairs as existing among the hungry
throng he had just left, and declared that another day without food
would witness great suffering in the crowded house.
Even as he related his story, those gathered about him were startled by
the shrill note of a steam-whistle coming from the direction of the
river. Sumner had found relief, and was bringing it to them.
During the hours that passed so slowly on the raft, the brave little
_Psyche_ had cruised here and there over the broad Mississippi sea, now
hailing some boat that refused to stop, and then chasing another that
it failed to overtake. Finally, late in the afternoon, Sumner
discovered a trail of black smoke coming up-stream and towards him. As
he anxiously watched it, trying to decide which way he should go to
head it off, he discovered a white banner with a scarlet cross flying
out cheerily just beneath the trail of smoke. Then he knew that help
was at hand, and no matter what other boats might do, that one would
stop at his signal.
As it drew near, he was amazed to see that instead of a river steamer,
such as he had expected, the red-cross boat was a fine sea-going yacht;
and as she came dashing towards him, her sharp stem cleaving the brown
waters like a knife, her shining black hull, varnished houses, polished
metal, and plate-glass flashing in the light of the setting sun, this
sailor son of a sailor father thought her the most beautiful thing he
had ever seen. She slowed down at his signal, and in another minute he
was alongside.
A line was flung to him, and making it fast to the _Psyche's_ painter,
he clambered up a ladder that had been dropped from the gangway. As he
reached the deck, a fine-looking young fellow, apparently but little
older than himself, and wearing a natty yachting uniform, stepped
forward to meet him.
Sumner briefly explained his errand, and pointing to the red-cross flag
at the foremast-head, added that he believed aid might be expected from
those who sailed under it.
"Indeed it may," responded the other, heartily; "and our present
business is to discover just such cases as you describe. Although the
_Merab_ is, as you see, a private yacht, in which we happened to put
into New Orleans during a winter cruise to the southward, she is at
present in the service of the Red Cross Society, of which I am a
member, and devoted to the relief of sufferers by this awful flood.
May I ask your name? Mine is Coffin--Tristram Coffin; though I am
better known as Breeze McCloud, and that of my friend (here he turned
to another young man, also in navy blue) is Mr. Wolfe Brady."
Half an hour later the beautiful _Merab_ lay at anchor as near the
stranded raft as it was safe to venture, and its occupants were being
transferred to her hospitable deck by one of her boats. Another boat,
laden with provisions, was on its way to the starving refugees in the
great house.
The young owner of the _Merab_ insisted that all those who came from
the raft should be his guests, at least for that night.
The invitation was accepted as promptly and heartily as it had been
given, and soon afterwards two very hungry but very merry parties sat
down to bountiful dinners in two entirely distinct parts of the yacht.
Along the mess-table of the galley--or the "camboose," as the yacht's
cook insisted upon calling it--were ranged three gentlemen of color,
each of whom treated his companions with the greatest deference, though
at the same time believing himself to be just a little better posted in
culinary matters than either of the others.
"Dish yer wha' I calls a mighty scrumptious repas'," exclaimed Solon,
after a long silence devoted to appeasing the pangs of his hunger.
"But fo' de true ole-time cookin' gib me de Moss Back kitchin befo' de
wah."
"I specs dat ar' berry good in hits way," remarked Quorum; "same time I
hain't nebber eat nuffin kin compare wif de cookin' er dem Seminyole
Injuns what libs in de Ebberglades. Dat's whar I takin my lesson."
"Sho, gen'l'muns! 'pears to me lak you don't nebber go on er deep-sea
v'yge whar you gets de genuwine joe-flogger, an' de plum-duff, an' sich
like," said Nimbus, the yacht's cook. "Ef you had, you wouldn' talk."
In the luminous after-saloon the other party was seated at a table
white with snowy damask, and gleaming with silver, which was at once
the pride and care of old Mateo, the Portuguese steward.
It was a party so overflowing with merriment and laughter, jokes and
stories, that from one end of the table the young owner of the yacht
was moved to call to his friend at the other,
"I say, Wolfe, this reminds me of the mess aboard the old _Fish Hawk_,
when we were 'Dorymates' together off Iceland."
"It reminds me," said Glen Elting, "of the jolly mess of the Second
Division, when Billy Brackett and Binney and I were 'Campmates'
together in New Mexico."
Said Sumner Rankin, "It reminds me of the cabin mess of the _Transit_,
when we went 'Canoemates' together, through the Everglades. Eh, Worth?"
"While I," chimed in Winn Caspar, "am reminded of the happy mess-table
of the good ship _Venture_, on which we 'Raftmates' have just floated
for more than a thousand miles down the great river."
[Illustration: A reunion of "mates."]
"Gentlemen," said Mr. Manton, rising, and holding high a glass filled
with amber-colored river-water, "as I seem to have become a shipmate of
Dorymates, Campmates, Canoemates, and Raftmates, I am moved to propose
a toast. It is, 'Long life and prosperity, health and happiness, now
and forever, to all true mates.'"