TEDDY O’DONNELL AND HIS LOVE ADVENTURE. STARTLING CATASTROPHE.
For the last hour the sky had been rapidly becoming overcast, and a
thick fog was gathering over the river, which beyond doubt would enclose
our friends in impenetrable gloom. There was not much probability of a
storm, but it was certain regarding the obscuration of the moon and the
approaching darkness.
Napyank, on the whole, was inclined to regret this. While it gave them a
greater chance of being discovered by their vigilant enemies along
shore, as they could proceed absolutely without noise, it still was
emphatically venturing in the dark. Whether they were drifting in toward
shore could not be known, until too late. Beside this the hunter called
to mind that there was a large island near the center of the river which
could be at no great distance from them, and it was his wish to avoid
running upon this. As all were opposed to lying to for the night, the
plan was not broached.
The settling gloom around them finally attracted the notice of young
Smith who remarked,
“It’s getting dark as sure as we live.”
“I observe too, that a heavy mist is settling over the river,” added
McGowan.
“In an hour you won’t be able to see tother end the boat,” replied
Napyank. “Smith there will have all he can do to manage to spy out the
Injins.”
“Do you think they will trouble us?”
“Not unless we run right into ’em.”
“And how can we do that?”
“We can’t very well unless we get into a powerful big island that is
somewhere in these parts.”
“I am certain we ought to be able to steer clear of that.”
“If we can only see it—there’s the trouble.”
“Joe,” said McGowan, after a few minutes silence, “Why not run into the
shore and tie up for the night?”
The hunter shook his head.
“’Twouldn’t do; I seen that tried once, on jest such a night as this.
Them reds, it seems to me, can smell a flat-boat a mile off. They’d
swarm down on us like a lot of flies.”
For some time Teddy had stood silent and thoughtful. His arms were
folded, and he was looking out upon the still surface of the river.
“What is it you’re thinking about?” inquired Napyank.
“I feels sorryful, by the same token,” he replied in a sad tone, heaving
a tremendous sigh.
“What is the cause?”
“I was jest thinkin of a wee bit of a girril that I had left at me home
in ould Ireland—God bless her.”
“An affection of the heart, eh?”
“It bees; and it’s sthrange—there’s a very sthrange sarcumstance
connected wid the same girril.”
“What is it?”
“It’s now good ten years since I last saw her, and I’ve niver once
brought her to mind till this same minute.”
“You certainly could not have thought much of her.”
“I sartinly did; I’ve just thought of what it was that brought her to
mind. It’s this ould coat.”
“And how should that do it?” inquired young Smith, who seemed about the
only one who felt any interest in the matter.
“The last time I saw her she had on jist the same article; Ah! but she
looked swate in it. She was diggin pataties at the time. It was the same
that had the sphlendid fut for yees—none ov yer little cramped up
nothin’—but a reg’lar stunner—as flat as a pancake. Ah! she was a
girril.”
Another great sigh, showed how deep the Irishman’s feelings were
regarding his almost forgotten love.
“And her ringlets—ah! if ye could but have seen them. They war’nt
twisted up like a nagur’s, but long and graceful with jist the slightest
twist to ’em, and as red as the fire in me own pipe.”
“It is strange you left her Teddy, if you held her in such high
estimation.”
“I didn’t hould her, she staid there widout the howlding. Ah! she was
the gal for me. I niver called on her but what we had a fight. We both
used a shillalah, and it was there I got the scientific touch of that
beautiful instrument. We always had black eyes after we left each other.
It was that what gave me the high respect for her, that I shall
entertain up to the day of my death.”
“But you haven’t told me why it is you left her society?”
“That was alas strange, but when I state the circumstances, you will see
how great should be my respect toward the young lady.”
“I’m anxious to hear it, I’m sure.”
“Wal!” proceeded Teddy, with another great sigh. “I called an her one
evening in the spring time of the year, when the flowers were in bloom
and the petaties were getting ready to be, I proposed that we should
have another set to, when we went at it right away. Begorrah but Bridget
got the best of me that time. She fetched me a whack over the eye afore
I knowed anything about what was comin’ and laid me out shtiff. When I
came to she was still lambasting me, and she kept at it, till I had to
lave the counthry to get away from her. Ah! me own swate jewil, if I but
had you here this minute,” sighed Teddy, after he had concluded the
narrative.
“What was the name of your love?” inquired Smith.
“Bridget Moghoghlmeoghan.”
By this time the gloom had become so heavy, that the heads of the two
Smiths could scarcely be discovered, as they stood at the prow silent
and faithful to their duties. The obscurity became greater and greater
until the hunter’s prediction was literally fulfilled. The prow of the
boat was a dim, vague, shadowy representation, whose outlines could not
have been defined, had not one known its identity. The shores had long
since faded from vision, that our friends were drifting helplessly
forward—knowing that if danger lay in their path there was no
possibility of discovering it, until they were fairly upon it.
Under these circumstances, the hunter considered the propriety of tying
to the shore until morning. If they could hit upon some retired spot,
where there was little probability of attracting attention, they ran far
less risk of being molested, than by continuing onward in this aimless
manner.
“What I’m the most afeard of,” said Napyank, “is that they’ll hear the
creaking of the oars. The night is very still, and such a racket as they
would make, a noise you could hear a half mile.”
“Be the same token don’t let ’em make any noise,” was the brilliant
suggestion of Teddy O’Donnell.
“Easier said than done. Then the splashing wo’d make; that would be just
as bad.”
“Can’t we work into shore gradually?” inquired or rather suggested
McGowan. “We can dip the oars very quietly and work them with great
care.”
“I can’t hardly think what to do,” said the hunter in some perplexity.
“I think, howsumever, we’ll go ahead for the present.”
“But the island.”
“That is the only thing that troubles me.”
“Most likely the current will drift us by that.”
“I hope it will, but it is powerful onsartin.”
After some further consideration, it was concluded that it would be best
to glide onward as they were doing at present, keeping in the meantime,
as close a watch as was possible under the circumstances for the island
that they all had so much reason to fear.
“The poorest part of this boat is the bottom,” remarked McGowan.
“We couldn’t get the proper timber, I remember we put in or two pieces
that I am anxious about.”
“That makes it worse nor I thought,” replied Napyank, betraying his
anxiety in his words. “By gr-a-c-io-us! if we should run into the
island, it would be sure to punch a hole in the bottom.”
“And what if we did, couldn’t we fill the same hool up agin?” asked
Teddy.
“Hardly——”
“Hello! what’s the matter with Smith?” interrupted the hunter.
“Here’s the island!” exclaimed the old man.
“Use your oar!” called Napyank, dipping his own deep in the water and
swaying it with all the force at his command.
And here a most unfortunate mistake occurred. The two Smiths worked in
one direction, and the hunter, assisted by his friends, in the opposite.
Before the error was discovered, the flat-boat swung around, and the
next moment went broad-side upon the island.
“By heavens! we have struck!” exclaimed McGowan.
“Yes; and the boat is sinking,” added the hunter. “Git the women out and
be powerful quick about it!”