A TERRIBLE RIDE.
Their first act showed the true character of these brave men.
“Let us thank God for our deliverance,” said Guy solemnly, and kneeling on the wet sand—an example that was followed by all—he offered a simple and fervent prayer.
Renewed hope was visible on their faces when they rose to their feet in the dim light of the torch.
“We will put the raft together,” said Guy, “and then have something to eat before we start.”
It was but a short distance to the water’s edge, and by all working industriously the logs were soon lying on the sandy beach, and Forbes was fastening them together as before.
Bildad, from the warmth of the rugs, watched these proceedings with a look of mute wonder on his dusky features.
As soon as the raft was ready the baggage was placed on it.
“Take the canoe along,” said Forbes. “It is too badly shattered by the fall to use, but it will furnish us with torches and firewood.”
There was room to spare, so the boat was placed on one end of the raft, and then sitting on the sand they made a hearty meal of crackers and figs.
“I don’t admire the appearance of that river very much,” remarked the colonel. “It comes through the cliff as though shot by a cannon. No wonder, though, when you think of the terrible pressure from above.”
“We will make up for lost time by rapid traveling, then,” said Forbes.
“Ah, you think so?” cried Sir Arthur. “Bless me, I hope we will. I have an engagement to dine with Lord Balsover at the Hotel Bombay at Aden on the 10th at six o’clock in the evening. He touches there on his way to India, and I can’t disappoint him, you know.”
“Drop him a few lines, Ashby, and postpone the engagement a couple of weeks,” remarked the colonel dryly.
“Bless me! Can I do that?” ejaculated Sir Arthur.
The laugh that followed was cut short by Guy’s short, decisive voice: “Get ready, it’s time to start.”
The raft lay partly in the water, and with a hearty shove from all it was pushed clear of the shore. Forbes and Canaris held it while it tossed up an down in the swirling eddies.
“Get on board,” directed Guy, setting the example himself, and assisting Bildad.
Forbes remained on shore, holding the corner of the raft till all had passed on board. It trembled fiercely in his grasp, as though eager to be off on the journey.
Far overhead the abandoned torch was glowing dimly on the summit of the cliff, a patch of brightness that made the gloom round about all the blacker by contrast. For the first time a sudden realization of the unknown perils that lay before them flashed into the minds of the little party.
“Let go, Forbes,” said Guy in a firm voice.
Melton sprang nimbly on board and grasped a paddle. The raft quivered a moment and then shot, swift as an arrow, toward the turbulent stretch of water beyond.
Then came a tremendous lurch, a riotous dash of spray that took away their breath, and with a dizzy speed that was simply indescribable the trembling craft was whirled down the torrent.
The first sensation was one of uncontrollable fear, and they hung with all their might to the logs, expecting every instant to be tossed into the water. Round and round spun the raft in dizzy revolutions, until their heads were dizzy and aching. Then the harsh roar subsided, and in a little while the raft became quiet and rested on the surface of the water with hardly a quiver.
And now they ventured to sit up. They appeared to be moving with the velocity of a railroad train.
On both sides, a few yards from the raft, smooth walls of rock were visible. Overhead was empty space.
“If this could continue,” said Guy, “we should reach the end of the river in a few days.”
“It won’t last,” said Forbes gloomily. “We’ll soon run across some bad water.”
His fears were shared by the rest, but as time passed on and they continued to speed smoothly between the rocky walls, they began to feel less apprehensive of danger.
“Bildad seems to be feeling quite chipper,” said Guy. “Suppose you ask him how he tricked that serpent, Canaris.”
“Well, I’ll try him,” was the reply.
The conversation commenced, and the harsh jabber which they carried on was very interesting to the rest of the party.
“Bless me; you’d think the Greek was talking in his own tongue,” remarked Sir Arthur. “Reminds me of our old Greek professor at Balliol College, Oxford. He loved the language of the Athenians so much that he hated to use the English tongue at all. Worst of it was he expected all of us to be as fluent as himself. Made us all talk Greek in the class-room. I’ll never forget how we got even with him. Lord Somebody or other—I can’t recall the name now, but it was some celebrated man—visited the college. I don’t suppose he knew Greek from Hottentot, but we made the professor believe it was a famous Greek scholar who was coming, one who had been making excavations on the site of old Troy during the past four years, and who, strangely enough, was then in England and expected on a visit to Oxford. The professor prepared an elaborate address in pure Greek, and when the visitor entered the class-room he delivered it in the most eloquent manner.
“‘What’s that fool talking about?’ asked the visitor.
“‘Oh,’ says young Ormsby, who was sitting near me, ‘he’s lecturing the class on “Political Economy in Ancient Athens.” He’ll be through in a moment and able to receive you.’
“The visitor left the room highly insulted, and the professor, when he discovered the truth a day or two later, nearly took apoplexy.”
As the laughter that greeted this little reminiscence of Sir Arthur’s ceased, Canaris finished his conversation with Bildad.
“It is difficult to converse with him,” he reported, “but from what I can learn he dived from the very embrace of the serpent, and succeeded in swimming to the other canoe, which he had turned adrift only a moment or two before. Without paddles or food he floated behind us into the lake.”
“It’s a miracle that he escaped the serpents,” said the coionel, “floating about on the lake all the time.”
“But how did he know anything about the entrance to the river?” exclaimed Guy. “Did you ask him that, Canaris?”
“Yes,” said the Greek. “He says he discovered it himself a year or two ago just as the old Englishman must have done.”
“Well, it’s a lucky thing for Bildad that he ran across us,” was Guy’s comment; and Bildad, to judge from his contented expression, seemed thoroughly to appreciate this fact.
As the river continued swift and smooth, with no signs of danger ahead, all went to sleep except Canaris and the colonel, who were intrusted with the care of the raft. Several hours later they were relieved by Chutney and Forbes, and thus all secured a fair night’s rest.
A scanty share of food was doled out for breakfast, as the supply was getting very low. Some time afterward a faint roar was heard in the distance, and almost before they could prepare for danger a violent cross current struck the raft, tossing it about most perilously, and they caught a glimpse of a furious body of water issuing from a narrow passageway.
“That was the other channel, the one we should have taken in the first place,” exclaimed Guy. “We are now on the main river again.”
“They travel separately for quite a distance,” remarked the colonel. “The lake must be seventy or eighty miles in our rear. We are making splendid time.”
Little did they imagine at that moment how great a change was close at hand. The river glided smoothly between its massive walls with scarce a murmur.
An hour later Forbes held up a warning finger. An ominous sound was heard far below that increased in volume with every second.
“Cling to the raft for your lives,” shouted Chutney.
The first words were audible; the last were drowned in the mighty roar of the water, so sudden was its approach. By the torchlight they saw for an instant the billows of tossing spray. Then the raft plunged madly like a thing of life, a great wave broke over it with stunning force, and all was darkness.
None could remember clearly what happened after that. Plunging over the crests of enormous waves, whirling round and round in dizzy revolutions, drenched by icy showers of spray, grinding and crashing on countless rocks, the raft went on its way through that awful stretch of rapids, holding together by nothing short of a miracle. A full hour it lasted, though it must have seemed like days to the wretched voyagers.
Then the wild pitching and tossing subsided, the crash of the furious water grew fainter, and all was calm and peaceful as before.