The morning broke, as it always did whenever we tried to cross the
river, bleakly and coldly. The river had risen considerably during the
night, and was still rising rapidly. Previous to our other
arrangements, we fixed on a site from which to start ourselves, after
the horses should once be safely across.
The chief danger in passing the river lay in the possibility of the
middle current being too strong for us to stem, in which case we
should of necessity be swept along with it, without being able to
reach either bank, until, our strength giving way under the combined
influence of the cold and our exertions, we should ultimately perish.
The spot we chose seemed to obviate this danger, as a little way down
the opposite bank made a broad curve, forming a point which shot for a
long way into the river. I could see that the current followed the
curve, running inside the point. By committing ourselves, therefore,
to the current at some distance above the point, we must of necessity,
I argued, bring up in the little bay formed by the curve
above-mentioned, in which case the point would act as an effectual
bar to our being swept down the centre of the river. All this seemed
plausible enough; but we were reckoning without our host, however, as
I presently discovered, and in ignorance of the course taken by the
current, which did not, as we supposed, always follow the bend of the
banks or keep in the centre of the river, where the water was deepest,
but darted about capriciously, without apparently depending on any
topographical influences, though no doubt it did.
We first made a large fire near the river, to warm ourselves by whilst
packing and saddling the horses, so that the caloric of our bodies
should not be all exhausted, as on the last occasion, before we had to
make the final struggle, when we should have most need of it. It
proved a most providential act; this same fire subsequently saved my
life. We made our preparations in deep silence, being both too busy
with our own thoughts to say much. We were firmly resolved that,
_coûte que coûte_, this was to be our last effort. We had the usual
difficulty to induce the horses to enter the water. Once in, however,
they were soon seized by the current and swept down the river. We
watched their course with the most intense anxiety. At first it seemed
that they could not stem the current, which was evidently stronger
than it had been at our last attempt. For a moment we held our breath
in painful suspense, but gradually they began to gain towards the
opposite bank, and presently we saw them emerge safe and sound from
the water, though the distance they had been carried down showed what
the strength of the current must be.
Everything now depended on ourselves. The supreme moment had come, and
not a second was to be lost, for already I began to feel numb with the
cold. On the other side were our clothes, our furs, our matches--our
existence, in fact. Between us lay the river. We must cross it; there
was no alternative. I ran as quickly as possible towards the place we
had chosen for starting from, not daring to look at the river on the
way, lest my courage should fail me now that I most required its aid.
I had to wade for some distance through a sheet of shallow water
before reaching the river itself. It only came up to my waist, which
made it colder than if I had been completely immersed, and the wind
was piercing all the time to the very marrow of my bones. Suddenly I
fell into a hole, sousing head over ears into the water. Chilled and
breathless with the shock, I emerged after a short swim, and hurried
on my way, anxious to get it all over. At last I came to the river.
Without pausing a moment, I jumped in, with a feeling of relief that
the worst would now soon be passed. I struck out with the current,
and, as I had foreseen, it swept me rapidly towards the point. In a
few seconds I was close to the bank. I stretched out my hands to
clutch at the grass, when, to my horror, the land seemed suddenly to
recede from me again. The current had swerved off before actually
reaching land, and I was being hurried with fearful swiftness into the
middle of the river. I tried to make for land, but my legs and arms
stiffened, and I seemed to be dragged under the water. A desperate
struggle brought me once more to the surface. I remember catching a
glimpse of the blue sky, and feeling with sickening terror that I was
lost, and again I sank under.
For a second or two I think I must have been unconscious; when I came
to myself again, I felt I was in warmer water. My strength revived a
little, and I struck out several times towards a bank, close along
which I was being hurried in the direction of another point a little
further down. At times I came so near the bank that I could actually
stretch out my hands and reach the long grass growing on it, but my
fingers, stiffened with the cold, refused to close on what alone could
save me from being swept away again. It was a horrible moment, for if
I passed the next point, I was indeed lost. I shouted for help, but no
one answered; it almost seemed that I was to be drowned with one foot
on land, so to speak.
Suddenly, however, my feet touched the bottom, and in another second,
carried bodily against the extremity of the point, I found myself in
shallow water, where I was able to regain my footing, and take breath
once more. I managed to drag myself up the bank; but on reaching the
top, my strength gave way again, and, overcome with cold and fatigue,
I sank down, utterly prostrate and helpless. On emerging from the
river, a glance had shown me that ill luck had willed that I should be
thrown up on the same side from which I had started. Fortunately, I
found myself not far distant from the fire we had made before
crossing, and with my remaining strength I now endeavoured to reach
it. I could only breathe with the greatest difficulty; at times I
thought I must choke. I tried to raise myself up and walk, but failed;
my legs were like lead, all circulation seemed arrested, and I could
only crawl slowly along on all-fours. Many times I thought I must give
in, but with the energy of despair I struggled on, and at last reached
the fire, which was still burning. Some logs of wood were lying close
to it; I pushed them in, and there was soon a good blaze. It seemed to
give me no warmth, however, though in my agony I almost thrust my body
into the very flames. Nearly an hour elapsed before circulation was
properly restored, during which I lay shivering with cold, and gasping
for breath in a state of the most acute suffering.
When I had in some measure recovered, I began to realise the critical
position I was now placed in. Terrible as the idea was to me after my
recent narrow escape from drowning, I had no alternative but to
attempt to cross the river again. If I remained where I was, certain
death from starvation or exposure awaited me; and it was useless to
endeavour to reach Isidoro, who was at least forty miles away, for,
naked as I was, I could not have gone even half a mile upon the
plains, in the teeth of the cold wind, which was, of course, still
blowing. I had all this time thought it strange that Guillaume had not
come to my assistance, as I had expected that he would have delayed
crossing himself until he had watched the result of my own attempt.
That he had safely crossed, however, now became evident, for I could
see the horses grazing unsaddled on the opposite side. Where he had
crossed, there was no reason why I should not be able to follow,
unless it was that as he had swum over comparatively fresh and strong,
whereas I had now hardly recovered from the effects of my first
unsuccessful struggle.
It was at worst but a question of taking another plunge, and then a
few seconds would decide one way or the other, and after all, sooner
or later, I should be forced to cross, as it was simply impossible to
remain where I was. It was better, therefore, I reflected to go
through the ordeal at once, rather than increase its terrors by long
anticipation. Screwing up my courage, without more ado I started off
as quickly as I could, to look for the place Guillaume had started
from. At this juncture he himself suddenly appeared on the opposite
bank, and guessing my intention, ran forward and pointed the exact
place out to me. It was much higher up than where I had started from,
and to get to it, as before, I had to wade through some shallow water,
which now and then was deep enough to oblige me to swim. When I
reached the exact spot, I could easily see why he had chosen it--no
doubt after having witnessed my mishap--for the current ran almost
straight across from where I stood to the other bank, where it broke
with great force, so that there was no danger of my being swept away
from the bank, as before, just as I got up to it. I had in fact,
merely to jump in, and allow myself to be swept passively over by the
current. Notwithstanding the apparent simplicity and easiness of the
undertaking, I stood for some time looking at the water, with an
instinctive dread, not daring to take the first step. A man who has
just escaped drowning may be excused from fearing to trust himself,
five minutes after, to the water again. But, feeling a chill come over
my body, and apprehensive lest by further exposing myself to the air I
should bring on a cramp, I nerved myself for the plunge, and, shutting
my eyes and setting my teeth, I sprang into the water. Once in, all
fear left me, and I struck out boldly, and, aided by the current, soon
reached the opposite shore.
My feelings on finding myself in safety on the Sandy Point side of
the river may be imagined. All the hardships I had endured, the
reverses I had suffered, the dangers I had undergone--all was
forgotten in the triumphant elation of that moment; the fatal obstacle
which had so long retarded our onward march was at last overcome, and
there was nothing to prevent us now from speedily arriving at our
destination.
Meanwhile I staggered through the band of shallow water which still
separated me from Guillaume, who was waiting for me with a dry capa.
With the support of his arm, I managed to reach a fire he had made at
a little distance from the water, and there I covered myself with
three capas, which restored the warmth to my body quicker than a
thousand fires could have done.
In about half an hour I was sufficiently recovered to eat an
ostrich-steak, and to listen to Guillaume's account of what had
happened to him since we had last seen each other. He had watched the
course of my ill-fated attempt, had seen me struggling for life in the
water, and at last disappear altogether; after which, as he had not
seen me return, he had naturally concluded I was drowned. But his own
safety required that he should not linger any longer, or the horses,
finding themselves left to their own devices, might take it into their
heads to run away with the furs and clothes. It was clear, too, that
he must not commit the same error in the selection of his
starting-point as had brought me into difficulties, and he had,
therefore, followed the course of the river till he came to the spot I
have already described, and which, as the result proved, possessed the
necessary requirements for insuring his safety. Naturally enough, with
the demoralising impressions of what he had just witnessed in my case
fresh in his mind, he was not without some unpleasant misgivings as to
the eventual result of his own attempt. He had crossed with ease,
however, and it was in going to look after the horses that he saw me
in the act of creeping towards the fire on the other side. He
certainly had not thought I should have strength enough to cross the
river again, and had been very much troubled about me, not knowing in
what way to assist me. In the meantime he had made a good fire, and
with the aid of the wind and sun, which latter had at last come from
behind the clouds, he had thoroughly dried our clothes and furs, and
was just considering what could be done to relieve me from my perilous
plight, when he observed me running along the opposite shore, with the
obvious intention of once more trying to swim across.
By this time it was about half-past two, and, burning with the desire
to accomplish my journey, I proposed we should continue our march
immediately, as we might still go a good way on our road before
sundown. I accordingly dressed; we saddled our horses, and soon rode
out of the valley up to the plain, turning as we reached the top of
the escarpment which bounded the valley, to have a last look on our
vanquished enemy, the river--now, thank God, at last behind us--and
then, facing towards the south-west, we broke into a brisk gallop,
once more _en route_ for Sandy Point.