"Go on," said the captain.
"Well, sir, the boat ran on to that line, and it carried her bow clear out of water," continued the spokesman. "In fact, the water came in over the stern, and wet the lady who sat farthest aft. I sprang forward to trim the boat, for I did not know what the matter was then. In my hurry I lost my oar overboard. I couldn't help it, for I was thinking only of saving the ladies from drowning, for both of them were screaming with fright."
"That's so," said the other man. "They were scared out of their wits."
"When I went to the bow, I couldn't tell what the matter was. I took the other oar, and sounded with it, to see if we were aground, and then I felt the rope. It was caught just under the bow, where there was a break in the iron shoe. I put the end of the oar on the line, and crowded it down so that the boat could slide over it. But the blade of the oar was split, and the line was jammed into the crack. The boat went over, and when I tried to pull in the oar, it was fast. The current took the boat, and gave me such a jerk that I had to let go, or go overboard."
"And you left the oar fast to the line?"
"Yes, sir; I couldn't help it."
"Perhaps you couldn't; but go on."
"We went on in spite of ourselves. The current carried the boat through the cut-off into the river. I tried to pull up one of the thwarts, to use as a paddle, but we couldn't start them. It was very dark and foggy, as you know, captain, and we couldn't see where we were. We watched our chances as well as we could, and tried to get hold of something."
"Why didn't you sing out?"
"That's what we did. But the current carried us over the other side of the river from Leavenworth, and I suppose no one heard us; at any rate no one came to help us. The poor lady who had got wet in the cut-off was shivering with cold, and we tried everything we could think of to stop the boat; but still we kept going down stream, whirling round now and then."