How we went down I cannot tell you, for it was due to no skill on our part; the wonder is that we were not overset a score of times; but somehow, almost miraculously, we seemed to avoid rock after rock that was scattered in our way, the little canoe bounding along in a mad race as we plied our paddles with all the energy at our command. I have often thought since that our rough action and chance-work way of running the gauntlet amidst the rocks was the reason of our success, where skilled managers of a canoe would have come to grief; but, be that as it may, in a wild exciting race we dashed on and on down the gradual watery slope, the noise of many waters thundering in our ears, while, with what I believe is the true generous spirit of an Englishman pervading us, we forgot our own danger in the sight of that incurred by the party in the rapids.
“Go it, Mas’r Harry!” Tom roared, mad almost with excitement, as he scooped away with his paddle. “Hurraw! Who’s afraid? That’s a good un! Now again! Brayvo! lay into it, my hearty!”
We gained upon the upset boat swiftly, when, as the clinging party were swept into a tolerably smooth reach that intervened between a fierce race of water and the next dangerous spot, I saw one of the men leave the canoe and strike boldly out for the shore, followed directly after by two more, whose dusky skin proclaimed them of Indian blood.
“Why, only look there—three men and one woman!” cried Tom. “And if they haven’t gone away and left her! This ain’t old England, Mas’r Harry; we don’t do things that how at home. Paddle away! Mind, sir, or you’ll have us over! Only wish I had a couple of tallow staves instead of this wooden spoon. Paddle away, sir! Cowardly warmint! That’s it, sir; this boat’s as light as a cork, but don’t have us over. We shall soon reach her now—mind, steady, for I’m scared to death of the water, and I wouldn’t swim as they do, not for a thousand pounds—not but what I could if I liked. That’s it, sir, only another thirty yards—long strokes and steady ones, and—hold on, my dear, we’re coming.”
“Push on, Tom—push on, and save your breath,” I cried, “for Heaven’s sake! Ah!—”
I could not restrain that cry—it burst from my lips, for just at that moment I saw the female figure, yet clinging to the overturned canoe, glide from her hold, as if drawn away by some invisible agency down, down, gradually beneath the swift tide.
“It’s one of them great wild beasts got her!” cried Tom, giving vent to the thought that had flashed across my brain. “Oh! don’t—pray, pray don’t, Mas’r Harry!” I heard him shriek. “I’m scared to death of these waters, and if you go I must too, for I swore I’d stick to you like a—Oh, Mas’r Harry!”
With Tom’s voice ringing in my ears, but having no more effect than they would have had in staying the swift rush of the rapids, I had in one and the same moment recognised the drowning face, and, paddle in hand, leaped from the frail canoe into the foaming river.
That was a wild and thrilling moment, when, nerving myself to the encounter, I battled with the fierce water, trying to put into practice every feint and feat that I had learned in old bathing times at home, when sporting in the summer evenings in our little river. Speed, though, and skill in swimming seemed unavailing here, as I felt the waters wreathe round me, strangling me, as it were, in a cold embrace; then seizing me to drag me here, to drag me there; dashing me against this rock, against that, and directly after sending a cold chill of horror through every nerve, as a recollection of the hideous reptiles abounding in the river flashed upon me, when I felt myself sucked down lower and lower in the vortex of some eddy between the rocks. It was like dreaming of swimming in some horrible nightmare, my every effort being checked when I strove to reach the drowning girl; and again and again, when just on the point of clutching her light garments, I was swept away, to begin once more fighting towards her with the energy of despair.
At last, however, my arm was round her, and two little hands closed upon my shoulders, clinging to me with a despairing grip, as I fought hard to keep on the surface; but only to be swept here and there, helpless as a fragment of wood, the muddy water the while thundering in my ears and bubbling angrily at my lips.