“Yes, yes, but look, look! Mr Brace—the water, the water! We have got into an eddy, and it is setting right away from the falls.”
Brace turned round and saw that Lynton’s words were true. He sat staring at the water until he was recalled to a sense of what was passing around him by hearing Lynton’s voice.
“Oh, catch hold, sir; catch hold of this tiller and steer. Let her go—fast as she will—so as to get away from this horrid place. Quick! quick! I can’t bear it! I’m going mad!”
Brace snatched at the tiller, and only just in time, for Lynton’s grasp upon it gave out, and with a lurch forward he fell upon his face, which was, however, saved from injury, for he had clasped his hands upon it, and now lay in the bottom of the boat, hysterically sobbing with emotion like a girl.
Chapter Twenty Five.
Briscoe’s Yellow Fever.
Brace felt shocked at seeing a strong man so overcome, and carefully refrained from glancing at the American, for fear of seeing a look of contempt in his eyes.
But the weakness passed away as quickly as it had come, and Lynton sprang up, to give a sharp glance round at the surface of the broad stretch of water, and then he turned to the others, but he did not speak for a few moments.