Another hour passed, and they were still gliding on, and now as they were swept into a wider reach, it was plain to see how the whole forest was flooded on either side, apparently to the depth of some six or eight feet, as near as the coxswain could judge.
Four times over he had drawn attention to the fact that they were passing the entrances to similar rivers to that down which they sped, one of them being remarkable for the fact that a portion of their stream set right into it, while from the others it glided out in the opposite way. Soon afterwards, with a little clever scheming, the boat was guided into an eddy where the water swirled round comparatively slack; and here her head was turned and she resumed her strange journey onward in the normal way.
The men’s labour too now had pretty well ceased, only a dip or two of the oars being required occasionally to keep the boat’s head straight and make her answer her helm.
And now conversation became more general. The danger being evidently over, one man hazarded a joke, something about a near shave, while another said it was a pity because they would have all this ’ere work to go over again.
Joe Cross heard the remark, and this started him talking, as he laid down his boat-hook and wiped his streaming face.
“Yes, Mr Rodd,” he said, “you wanted to come farther up the river, and here you have had it. Well, I suppose when the flood’s spread all over it will do same as they always does, begin to drain off again and carry us back. But I am afraid, Dr Robson, sir, that I must give up what I undertook to do.”
“What?” cried the doctor.
“Ride back’ards, sir, and find the way out of this wet cat’s-cradle of a place. I am very sorry, sir.”
“Sorry!” cried the doctor cheerily. “My good fellow, what you have done during the last few hours has earned the lasting gratitude of us all.”
“Has it, sir?” said the man, staring. “Why?”