AN UNEXPECTED JAUNT
Finding a ford, however, was no easy matter, for the river was both
wide and deep. Several times the bearers ventured into the water at
likely-looking places, but the rapid deepening and the swiftness of
the current caused them to withdraw in haste.
The country in which they found themselves was sparsely-inhabited
marsh land. The last village, occupying a high plateau, lay two
days’ journey to the rear. Since leaving it they had failed to
encounter any local tribesmen. Only by luck had they found knolls of
dry firm ground projecting above the jungle growth of the marsh on
which to pitch camp the two nights spent in this district.
Mr. Hampton, fearing the effects of the miasmatic surroundings on
the health of all, was resolved that this day should see them cross
the river and into the hills rolling up in the background on the
other side. Therefore, he kept the bearers plodding through the
thick jungle growth of reeds and trees along the bank in search of a
ford. For, although of human habitation there seemed little
evidence, yet of animals there were many signs. And undoubtedly some
of the latter were accustomed to cross the river at some point or
other in the vicinity.
None being discovered, however, toward noon, Mr. Hampton decided
they would build a raft. Rope a-plenty was in their equipment. When
the raft was ready, a bearer would swim the river with the end of a
rope to be attached to a tree on the other side. By fastening the
rope similarly on the near side of the river, they would obtain a
ferry, along which the raft could be pulled back and forth until
everybody and all the supplies and articles of equipment could be
sent across.
The work of building the raft out of felled logs bound together with
tough vines and creepers went on apace, and by the middle of
afternoon everything was in readiness for the attempt. All three of
the boys were expert swimmers and volunteered to make the crossing
with the rope. But Mr. Hampton would not give his consent.
“As to your ability to swim several times the distance, there can be
no question,” he said. “But one can never tell when crocodiles will
appear in these African rivers. Wimba tells me there are several men
amongst our bearers who have a reputation for fighting crocodiles.
I’ll see whether either or both want to swim across.”
The two men mentioned by Wimba readily consented to make the
crossing, being eager to receive the extra pay for the hazard
promised by Mr. Hampton. And with knives clutched between their
teeth, they plunged into the river, the rope paying out behind them.
However, although through his glasses, Jack, who was maintaining a
lookout, could discern three of the long sinister beasts sunning
themselves on a sandy shelf along the opposite shore but
considerably below the point at which the swimmers planned to land,
yet none appeared in midstream to attack the two Kikuyus. And the
latter swimming strongly, presently were seen to clamber out of the
water. Then they disappeared into the luxuriant undergrowth, to
reappear a few minutes later shouting that the rope had been made
fast to a tree.
“First, Dad,” cried Jack. “You wouldn’t let us swim the river, so
now you must let us be first to cross on the raft.”
Mr. Hampton smiled indulgently. “You’re as big as I, Jack,” he said,
“but you’re only a kid still, aren’t you? All right. Let it be as
you say. You three and six of the bearers can make the first
crossing with the major portion of our stores. Then send the raft
back, and Niellsen and I will cross over with our photographic
equipment and whatever supplies you haven’t taken. Then Wimba can
follow with the rest of the bearers.”
“But, Mr. Hampton,” Frank objected, “do you believe we ought to put
all our supplies, or even the major portion, in one load? What if
the raft upsets?”
“You’re right, Frank,” said the older man, approvingly. “We would be
out of luck in a case like that. No, we’ll split our provisions, and
send over only half at a time.”
“The same idea can be applied to our radio equipment, too,” said
Jack. “We’ll take several of the portable receiving sets with us, as
well as that emergency sending set. You can bring the one we’ve been
using, when you come, together with the remaining portable
receivers.”
The good sense of both these suggestions being readily apparent,
they were adopted and, carrying half the provisions and half the
radio equipment, the three boys with six bearers sent out to
negotiate the crossing.
Long poles had been cut and with these half the number on the raft
essayed to pole, while the balance pulled on the rope stretching now
from bank to bank and tied about trees at either end.
But almost immediately it became apparent the force of the river
current had been underestimated. So strong was the downstream drag
that all soon found themselves working as if for their very lives to
make headway. Moreover, the rope drawn as taut as a violin string by
the force of their weight upon it began to screech with a dry sound.
“We better turn back, Jack,” panted Frank, from his position at the
rear end of the raft where he was battling valiantly with a pole.
“In a minute we won’t be able to touch bottom any longer, and then
our unsupported weight is going to be too much for that rope.”
Hardly had the words been uttered than there came a sudden sharp
report. The rope had parted at a weak spot. The two ends fell into
the water, out of reach. And at once, seized in the hungry clutch of
the swift current, the raft was whirled into midstream and started
down river.
Fortunately, Matse was of the number aboard. And when Jack shouted
an order to the bearers not to use their poles lest they be snatched
from their grasp, as the river was running too strongly at this
point, Matse translated his command. At that, however, Jack’s
forethought came a moment too late to prevent one of the blacks from
losing his pole. It was sucked from his grasp as the raft whirled
along, when he attempted to strike bottom with it to arrest their
progress. Only through the fact that Bob throwing an arm about his
waist at the crucial moment tugged him inward did the black escape
following his pole.
“Tell the men to sit down and pull in their poles,” Jack ordered
Matse. “Pretty soon the current will swing in toward one shore or
another as we round a bend, and then we may stand a chance to strike
bottom and pole ashore. Try to make them see that it is necessary to
save the raft and equipment, Matse, so that they won’t jump off and
swim ashore.”
The intelligent young Kikuyu nodded his comprehension and then began
to lay down the law to his comrades in their own tongue.
In the meantime, Mr. Hampton could be seen starting the bearers on
shore down stream. And Jack knew his father’s thought was his,
namely that some turn of the current might throw the raft toward the
river bank and thus afford those on land a chance to be of aid.
“If we only had a rope,” he groaned.
“What’s that your father is shouting, Jack? Can you understand him?”
asked Bob.
Jack shook his head.
“Too far away,” he said. “This river certainly is sweeping us along
at a great rate. There, I can’t see them any more.”
And standing up, Jack waved his handkerchief as the raft swept
around a bend and his father and the party ashore were lost to view.
Then Jack crouched down between Bob and Frank.
“We’ll have to remember one thing, fellows,” he said, lowering his
voice to a whisper. “And that is that these blacks will stick to the
raft, perhaps, if we can manage to keep them from becoming excited
and apprehensive. But if they lose their heads, they’ll jump
overboard and swim for it. And in that case our chance of saving the
raft and all these supplies and equipment will be mighty slim. So it
is up to us to keep smiling, because they’ll be watching us. In
fact, they’re watching us now.”
The blacks were, indeed, casting anxious glances toward the three
boys. And the latter, accepting Jack’s outline of the situation,
grinned in a way to disarm apprehension. Nevertheless, they could
see from the way in which the Kikuyus turned to gaze at the water
that they were speculating upon the possibilities of swimming
ashore.
“Can the men swim, Matse?” asked Jack of the young interpreter who
crouched nearest them, staring with fascinated gaze at the swift
water bearing them along.
“All, baas,” replied Matse. “They say they stay long as can, but
will swim if no can save raft. They ’fraid crocodile but more ’fraid
waterfall.”
“Waterfall?” cried Frank, in alarm.
Matse nodded. “Me no can tell, baas,” he said. “Fella-boys say river
um run too fast. Waterfall soon.”
Bob jumped to his feet. “Look here. We can’t sit here idle, waiting
to be tossed toward one bank or the other, while all the time we may
be skidding along toward a falls. I can’t hear any roar indicating
one near at hand. Just the same, this river is running mighty fast,
and there may be a falls ahead. Let’s get some of these poles
together and try to rig up a stern sweep to guide us inshore.”
“That’s the idea,” approved Frank. “It’s about our only chance to
save the raft, and if we don’t do it we may soon all be in the water
trying to swim to shore.”
Matse called to the bearers who shoved their poles across the raft
toward the boys, and watched eagerly while Bob set to work to
develop his idea.
What he wanted was a paddle on the end of several poles lashed
together. The poles were available, and the paddle blade was easily
obtained by ripping off several heavy boards from a packing case.
But hammer and stout nails were none. However, Bob got around that
by tearing up many feet of stout creeper binding the logs of the
raft at one end. Then he placed the boards between the ends of two
poles and lashed them in place with the vine.
“Now for it,” he said, surveying his work dubiously. “It looks
strong enough, but whether it will hold together is a question.
However, here goes.”
The felled logs comprising the raft were in several layers,
criss-crossing each other. In none of these layers had the logs been
placed tightly together. Bob poked around until he found a
succession of openings in the various layers of logs which were in
line with each other, and then managed to push the paddle through
and into the water. A little pressing apart of the logs and tearing
of vines here and there enlarged the opening sufficiently to permit
slanting the poles forward so far that the blade trailing at the
rear became a genuinely effective sweep.
“Hurray,” yelled Bob, jubilantly, as the raft began to swing
sluggishly but steadily toward shore. “Get some of those fellows to
help hold this steady, Matse.”
Two of the bearers sprang with alacrity to positions on the two
poles lashed together which constituted the handle of the sweep.
Bob stationed them in position to hold the paddle steady at an angle
which swept the raft shoreward, for he was not using it as a sweep
for propulsion but as steering oar.
Then he stood back to contemplate his work with a look of pride on
his face.
“Well, I guess that’ll turn the trick if the paddle doesn’t break,”
he said to Jack. “The tug of the water is tremendous.”
“Yes,” replied the latter, leaning close and speaking in a whisper,
“or if we aren’t swept into the rapids ahead. Take a look but don’t
draw the attention of the Kikuyus. They are so interested in
watching the result of your labors and in playing around with your
steering oar that they haven’t seen yet. There. Down stream.”
Bob looked.
Some distance ahead, where the river swept around a big island,
scattered rocks jutted above the water of both channels. And over
them foamed the river.
Then the first sound of the rapids was borne to their ears.