“All’s well, depend upon it, my dear,” said Mr Campbell. “Alfred would not wave his hat if there was any disaster.”
“I must have it from his own mouth,” said Mrs Campbell, almost breathless.
“Safe?” cried out Martin to Alfred, as he approached.
“Safe, quite safe!” cried Alfred, in return.
“Thank Heaven!” cried Mrs Campbell, in a low voice, clasping her hands in gratitude.
Alfred leaped off his saddle, and hastened to communicate the news. John, trusting too much to his own powers, had gone out into the punt, and soon found out that he could not manage it in so strong a wind. He attempted to get back to the beach, but was unsuccessful, and had, as we have said, been carried away by the wind and current down towards the rapids; but it so happened, that before Alfred had arrived at the fort, Captain Sinclair had observed the punt adrift, and, by the aid of a telescope, ascertained that John was in it, exerting himself very vigorously, but to no purpose. Captain Sinclair, having reported it to the Commandant and obtained permission, had launched one of the bateaux, manned by the soldiers, and had brought John and the punt on shore, about four miles below the fort, and not until they had arrived in the strong current of the rapids, which in another hour would have, in all probability, proved fatal. Alfred, from the fort, had seen Captain Sinclair gain the shore, with John and the punt in tow, and, as soon as he was satisfied of his brother’s safety, had ridden back as fast as he could, to communicate it.
This intelligence gave them all great delight, and now that they knew that John was safe, they waited his return with patience.
Captain Sinclair arrived, with John behind him, on horseback, about two hours afterwards, and was greatly welcomed.
“Indeed, Captain Sinclair, we are under great obligations to you. Had you not been so active, the boy might have been lost,” said Mrs Campbell. “Accept my best thanks.”
“And mine,” said Mary, extending her hand to him.