“Look down and see the rate the current is running,” said Dolly; “that’ll tell you why. Lord, don’t I pity them slogging against a stream like that? I dunno many more heart-breakin’ jobs. Two men pulling an oar apiece, and the boat loaded deep too evidently.”
“Dolly, what are they doing—where are they going?” cried Ess, in sudden alarm, as the boat swung broadside to them and commenced pulling away. A figure in the stern waved again, and Dolly took comfort.
“Pullin’ off somewhere to get out of the run of the current, I expect,” he said. “They’ll take a sweep round and drop down on us most likely.”
That was evidently the plan, for they saw the boat curve round again a full mile off on its new course, and begin to struggle upstream again, and now it appeared to move faster. Dolly wished most fervently that the rescuers could realise the plight they were in, and gauged with some anxiety the angle they were heeling to.
It would be fully an hour, and perhaps two, before the boat could win to them, he calculated, and then set to work to cast off the lashing of reins round the seat, and made Ess move to a less comfortable but more safe position, and lowered his rope and swung down, and tried to push and pull some of the barrier away. He could move nothing but the very slightest and least of the obstacles, and several wettings were the only results of his labour.
He gave it up at last, and climbed back up the sloping trunk to wait with Ess and all the patience they could command for the slow approach of the rescue.
They saw the boat turn at last, and come shooting across and downstream to them, and, heart in mouth, waited to see whether it would reach them or be swept past. The men were pulling desperately, and the boat forged slowly across. They could see now that there was another lad and a woman and two children in the boat, and again Dolly murmured sympathy for the slog the rowers were having.
The boat was almost abreast of them now, but fully a hundred yards out, when it spun round head to stream and edged slowly in, the rowers fighting hard to hold their position, and doing that and no more.
“It’s Steve,” said Dolly, suddenly, “good old Steve.” He stood and waved his hat, and yelled cheers and encouragement to the boat.
“Go it then—all together—hup—hup. Well ro-o-owed. Get your hands away, bow—lift ’er—lift’er.” He was hopping with excitement. “They’ll do it, Miss Ess. Look at ’em. Wish I had one of those oars.” He stood and yelled again, and now they could see clearly the set faces and clenched teeth of the rowers, the dogged heave and strain, the panting recovery, and again the stubborn pull. They were in the full grip of the current now, and do all they could, the boat was dropping down and back. They saw Seaman Dick West look round and say something to Steve, the boat’s nose slanted in to them, and they swept fast downstream and past the tree again.