Middy and Ensign

by George Manville Fenn

All had heard the strange sounds on either side of the dark track he had come along, more than once shuddering slightly as he heard the cry of a tiger or the curious coo-ai of the argus pheasant, but nothing sounded so pleasant to him during his exciting retreat as the strange, low, untiring rush of the great river.

There was no noisy babbling, but a soft, low, hissing rush, as the swift stream hurried amidst the stones and water-washed roots of the trees upon the banks.

He had hoped to find a boat somewhere about the end of the track, where there was a wretched campong; but there did not seem to be a single sampan, and he tramped wearily down the bank, till he came near the houses opposite the island.

He dared go no further along the bank, lest he should be seized; and he stood in the shade of a tree at last, thinking of what he should do.

But one course was open to him, and that was to swim out into the swift stream, and make for the head of the island, where, to his great delight, all seemed perfectly still, and free from alarm. How long it would keep so, he could not say.

There was no other way for him, and being a swift swimmer he hesitated no longer, but throwing off his baju and sarong, he walked out as far as he could and swam boldly towards the head of the island, where he meant to land.

To his horror he found a couple of boats in the way, both of them well filled with men, and it was only by letting himself float down with the stream that he was able to pass them unnoticed. This, however, completely carried him out of his reckoning, for on striving once more to reach the head of the island, he was too low down, and was swept right away. He tried for the landing-place, but he could not near it, and in spite of his desperate efforts he was drawn on lower and lower by the heavy stream, so that he could not even grasp at the drooping trees at the lower end of the island, but found himself carried right away towards the lights of the corvette, where she lay a quarter of a mile lower down.

Knowing that he could not catch at anything on the smooth sides of the steamer, he made another frantic effort to reach the side of the island, but it was labour in vain, and at last, weak, exhausted, and with the water rising higher and higher about his lips, he felt that he was being carried right away, and that, unless help came, he would be drowned.

He grew excited and struggled harder, but only to weaken himself. He was confused by the darkness, and found that he had miscalculated his powers. The strain upon him during the past two days, and the efforts he had made that night, had been greater than he was aware of; and now, in spite of the sterling stuff of which he was made, the chill, dread thought came upon him that he was about to die.

The lights of the steamer seemed very near, and yet far-distant, for a blinding mist was before his eyes; and though he swam bravely, over and over again the swift current seemed to suck him down. He essayed to cry for help, but the water choked him; and at last he felt that all was over, that he should in another minute be swept past the steamer, when, trying to turn over and float, he went under, rose to the surface once more, struck against something and clutched at it, to find it slimy and hard to hold; but it enabled him to hold his head above water a few moments, while he cried for help—lost his hold, and was swept away once more, when all seemed dreamy and strange. The water thundered in his ears, his limbs were helpless, and it was as if he were being wafted into a strange and troublous sleep, when he knew no more, for all seemed blank.