ADRIFT ON THE FLOOD.
"What can we do, Thad?" cried Bumpus, as a lurch of the boat caused him
to bang up against some of the others.
"Hold on, don't smash me against the side of the cabin, you elephant!"
roared Davy, who had been unfortunate enough to serve as a buffer for the
stout scout.
Thad struck a match, and somehow even the small glow thus afforded seemed
to give the boys new cheer.
"Thank goodness the tin lamp hasn't been knocked over and the glass
broken!" said Step Hen, as he reached out, and just saved the article in
question from slipping off the table.
"Here, let me put this match to the wick," said Thad; "things won't seem
quite so bad then as in the pitch dark."
After that they fixed it so the precious tin lamp could not be spilled;
and so long as the oil held out they meant to keep it burning.
When the door was opened so that they could look out, it was a dreadful
sight the scouts saw. All before them lay heaving water, that had a
sickening motion to it, but did not seem to be rushing past as they had
noticed it do before.
"Why, the old river's standing still, I do declare!" cried the astonished
Bumpus, as he thrust his head out of the open doorway to see.
"It looks that way because we're moving along with it, Bumpus," Giraffe
told him; ordinarily the tall scout would most likely have jeered
scornfully at the innocent for suspecting such a thing, but now he seemed
to feel that he owed Bumpus a debt on account of the trick he had played,
which could only be paid by his being unusually kind.
"Can we do anything, Thad?" demanded Step Hen. "Is there a push pole on
board so some of us might start the old tub back to the bank again?"
"There is one, but it seems to be broken, and wouldn't be worth a
continental cent in all this flood," Thad told him. "Unless we feel
desperate enough to jump over and try to swim for it, we'll have to stay
aboard, and take our chances."
"Oh! I hope now you won't decide to try that!" said Bumpus, whose
failings were well known to his chums, and a lack of the knowledge
pertaining to the art of swimming happened to be one of them.
Indeed, when they looked at that terrible water all of the scouts shrank
back, and not a single voice was raised in favor of the plan. There might
be worse things even than finding themselves adrift on the flood in a
houseboat.
"Do you think that thick rope broke under the strain, Thad?" asked Allan
presently, as they still stood there, looking out, not liking to close
the door lest something terrible happen to the boat, and all of them be
caught in the cabin to drown like rats in a trap.
"That's what must have happened, Allan, though when I looked it over I
thought it could stand any sort of strain. But it must have been part
rotten in some part; and a rope's like a chain, you know, only as strong
as its weakest link or strand. But no matter what the cause may have
been, all we have to think of is the effect. It's too late to prevent the
accident; and we'll hope the worst isn't going to happen to us now."
"What d'ye mean by the worst, Thad?" asked Bumpus, almost piteously.
"This river, you know, is full of rocks," explained the other. "In the
summertime when the water's low they stick up everywhere; but in case of
a flood most of them are under water, and act like snags to punch holes
in boats that may be unlucky enough to be caught afloat. Then again
there's always danger of being crowded up on a sliding shelf of rock,
when the wind and the sweep of the current might upset us all!"
"Gosh!"
After that last exclamation Bumpus remained silent, but he certainly
found plenty of food for thought in what he had heard Thad say. Every new
lurch of the boat was apt to give him a fresh quiver of anxiety. He kept
his eyes fixed on Thad, just as though he believed that if they were to
be saved at all, it must inevitably be through the instrumentality of the
patrol leader.
It might readily be assumed that none of those eight scouts would ever
forget that wild voyage down the flooded Susquehanna, in the inky
darkness of that Spring night. The floating shanty boat kept performing
all manner of remarkable gyrations under the influence of wind and waves.
Sometimes one end would be upstream, and in a little while the craft
would spin around so that the door had to be temporarily closed in order
to keep the driving rain from deluging them.
In the midst of this dreadful suspense they suddenly felt that their
onward motion had ceased. At the same time they discovered the forward
part of the boat to be rising.
"We're ashore!" shouted Giraffe, looking ready to plunge out of the door
and take any sort of a ducking rather than stay aboard, to risk death in
the flood.
"Hold on!" cried Thad, clutching him just in time to prevent any
rashness; "you don't want to leap before you look. There's water on this
side where the shore ought to be. I think the boat's only shoved up on a
sunken rock! If you jumped now you'd find yourself in the river!"
"Yes, and she's swinging around right now, let me tell you, Giraffe!"
added Davy Jones; "look at the other side coming up, would you?"
"Oh! I hope she don't turn turtle, that's all!" bellowed Bumpus; "keep
the door open, Thad, and let me have a chance to get out if the worst
comes, because I need more time than the rest of you do."
Giraffe was seen to edge closer to the stout scout, as though he had made
up his mind to give Bumpus, who knew so little about swimming, all
possible assistance should the worst come to pass.
"No danger this time," sang out Thad, "for there she slides off the rock,
and our interrupted voyage is on again."
True enough, the shanty boat began to move, rocked violently for a brief
period, and then seemed to be floating once more along the rolling
current on an even keel, greatly to the relief of Bumpus, who was holding
his breath with the dreadful suspense.
"How long do you suppose now we can keep sailing like this?" Step Hen
asked.
"If nothing happens to us until morning comes," replied Thad, "we'll find
some way to get ashore, when we can see how to work."
"Sure thing!" added Davy. "But I hope now we don't strike any old
cataract or falls, where we'd be swept over a dam, and get wrecked. Seems
to me I've heard of such things along the Susquehanna."
His words must have brought a new spasm of alarm to the heart of Bumpus,
for he clutched Thad's sleeve, as though imploring him to set that fear
at rest.
"If there are," the patrol leader told them, "it must be a good deal
further upstream than where we are. While the Susquehanna isn't called a
navigable river, except down near its mouth, where it empties into the
bay, it's an open stream for a long distance. Don't bother thinking about
mill-dams and that sort of thing. The worst terror we've got to face is
the everlasting snags all around us. If one punched a hole in the lower
part of the boat we'd be apt to sink."
"Wish we had life preservers, then," remarked Bumpus; "I thought every
boat was compelled to keep such things aboard."
"They are, if they carry a certain number of passengers," Thad told him.
"Yes," added Giraffe, as he reached up and took some small object from a
shelf, where it had remained all this while, in spite of the movements of
the boat, "and this craft was well provided, too, for you can see that
this is an empty bottle, the mate to the one the tramps threw away. They
all seem to patronize the same brand around this section, too, because
it's as like that other flask as two peas in a pod."
Thad looked at the emptied bottle, but made no remark. Had Giraffe been
observing the patrol leader closely, however, instead of keeping his eyes
fixed on what he was exhibiting, he might have wondered what the little
flash of intelligence passing over Thad's face could mean, and whether
the other had conceived a sudden thought of some kind.
They must have entered upon a section of the river where the cross
currents became stronger than ever, for the drifting shanty boat's
progress became more erratic. Several times the boys found themselves
flung in a heap by an unheralded stoppage of the boat, or an unusually
wild movement sideways.
"Say, this is getting tougher and tougher the further we go, and I must
admit I don't fancy it for a cent!" grumbled Step Hen, after he had
picked himself up for the third time and rubbed his knees as though they
pained him.
"The worst I ever met up with, suh!" declared Bob White, steadying
himself by clutching hold of a hook that was fastened to the wall for
some purpose or other.
"Think of me," groaned Bumpus; "when I come down it's like a load of
brick!"
"Yes, that's what I say," added Davy; "'specially to the fellow
underneath you, Bumpus. Why don't you sit down all the time, and save
yourself the trouble of falling so much? You nearly crunched me last
time."
"Yes, and it don't hurt him to fall the same way it does me," Giraffe
wanted the rest to know, "because he's padded all over like a football
player."
Instead of diminishing, the erratic gyrations of the whirling boat seemed
to continually increase, if such a thing were possible. Even Thad became
worried, for it was impossible to guess what would happen next. Then
again that impenetrable blackness with which they were enveloped on all
sides must be anything but reassuring to even the bravest heart. If they
could only see out, and prepare for each new and surprising shock, it
might not be quite so bad.
Minutes dragged along until they seemed almost like hours to the scouts
who, imprisoned in that small cabin, found themselves at the mercy and
sport of the flood that was pouring down the Susquehanna. Why, sometimes
it seemed to Bumpus he must be living in the time of old Noah, and that
this was the ark of refuge, with the forty days of solid rain beating
down upon it. Yes, and he could almost fancy that he had some of the
animals that were taken in, two by two, around him, judging from the
queer attitudes which Davy Jones was striking, for he was on all fours
about half the time.
Thad had figured out what they must do in case of a wreck. This was to
stand by the boat as long as she remained afloat, and only strike out for
the shore in case of a complete collapse. He knew the terrible risk all
of them would run if they attempted to swim that swollen stream, without
daylight to give them cheer, or show them their bearings; and it was the
last thing he wanted to try.
Perhaps nearly half an hour may have elapsed since the boat had struck
that sloping shelf of hidden rock, when once again the same experience
came upon them.
This time they seemed to have been driven with such speed that the boat
slid far up on the rock, and immediately careened toward the larboard.
"We're going over this time, sure!" shouted Giraffe; and there was not
one of his companions but whose mind was filled with the same fear; for
it seemed as though nothing could prevent such a catastrophe from
happening.