“Look out there,” he roared. “Shove your helm down.”
The second mate obeyed the order instantly; but the warning came too late, for there was a sudden check and Brace nearly went overboard, and in fact would have taken a header if Briscoe had not made a snatch at his arm.
Both boats were fast aground and refused obstinately to yield to the poling and punting toiled at by the men to get them over the sandy shoal in which they were fixed.
“Never mind, my lads,” cried the captain at last: “it’s getting late, and there’s a capital camping-place ashore. Wade, some of you, and lighten the boats so as to run ’em in. You, Dan, and a couple more see to your fire. There don’t seem to be any of those flippers in the water here. Stream’s too swift for them.”
The men were over the sides of the boats and into the water directly, and, thus lightened, the vessels were run close up to the bank before they grounded side by side.
“We’ll lighten your boat more still, gentlemen, in the morning,” said the captain, “and pole her along to find a deeper channel. It’s too late now, and we’re all tired. My word!” he continued, as he stood on one of the after-thwarts and looked down through the crystal-clear water at the sandy gravel; “why, this looks just the sort of place where you might wash for gold.”
“Hah!” ejaculated Brace: and then to himself: “He has done it now.”
The captain’s loudly-spoken words had been plainly heard by all, and seemed to send a magnetic thrill through every man.
Without exception, at the word “gold” all stopped in what they were doing and stared down through the clear water at their feet with eager dilated eyes, while to Brace it appeared as if each hearer held his breath in the excitement which had chained him motionless there.
Briscoe’s eyes flashed a meaning look at Brace, who glanced at him, and then he cried: “Yes; that’s what I was thinking, skipper. S’pose we have a try?”