HELL FALL.
“But what is to capsize the boat? I am not going to take young hands with me; we all know our work; at all events, I mean to make the first trial of my own plan myself, you have nothing to do but to stand on the rock, and haul up the boat.”
The Parson looked at Birger.
“I do not think there is much danger,” said he; “and if the Captain will manage the rod, I will see to the boat. Tom shall take the other oar.”
“Well,” said the Parson, “you have left me the safest job; but I do not quite like to see you do it. However, I suppose you will; so here goes to see that you run no more danger than is absolutely necessary.” So saying, he eased himself down the rope to the flat rock, followed by Torkel and Pierson, who had previously thrown down a coil of birch rope; while the Captain, Birger, and Tom went down to the place below the rapid, where the boat was moored to a stump of a tree that grew over the river.
The birch rope floated on the top of the racing water, and soon reached the great turn-hole below the rapid, where the current was not so furious but that the boat could easily be managed. After one or two misses, Birger caught the end of it with his boat-hook, and, passing it round all the thwarts, secured it to the aftermost one; placing an axe in the stern sheets, in which the Captain had seated himself with his short lake-rod in his hand, Tom sat amidships with the paddles, while Birger himself stood forward with the boat-hook, to fend off from any point of rock that the eddies might sheer the boat against.
When all was ready, he waved his cap—for no voice could be heard amid the roar of water—and the Parson and his party began steadily hauling on the rope. The boat entered the dark cleft, and, though her progress was very slow, cut a feather through the water, as if she were racing over it.
Tom, by dipping one or other paddle, steered from side to side, as he was bid; and the Captain threw his fly into the wreaths of foam which gathered in the dark corners; for in the most furious of rapids, there will always be spots of water perfectly stationary, where the eddies, that have been turned off by projecting rocks, meet again the main current; and, in those places, the salmon will invariably rest themselves, accomplishing their passage, as it were, by stages.
From side to side swung the boat—now at rest, now hauled upon by the line, according to the messages which Birger telegraphed with his cap; but, for some time, without any result, except that of convincing the Parson that the dangers he apprehended, were more in appearance than in reality; so that they were beginning to think that their ingenuity would be the sole reward of their pains. At length, there was a sudden tug at the line, the water was far too agitated to permit the rise to be seen, and the Captain’s rod bent like a bow.