“It’s all right, old man,” Clyde said heartily. “We are with you. Ain’t we, Frank?”
Frank said nothing, but got up and crossing the cabin took the skipper’s right hand while Clyde took the left. The three gripped hard for a second in silence. It was a compact to stand together through the trials that they knew were coming.
It was a strange scene: the little cabin, dimly lighted by the swinging lamp; the sick boy in the corner bunk forward on the starboard side lay breathing heavily, his flushed face in deep shadow. The three boys sat on Ransom’s bunk in a row on the opposite side, the soft light shining on their anxious faces, their hands still clasped. Outside the great river rushed, and the “Gazelle” tugged at her moorings, the rudder slatted, the booms creaked against the masts and the rigging hummed an answer to each passing gust.
It was a time to try the temper of the young voyagers, and bravely they stood the test.
“Well, what’s the matter with turning in?” It was Kenneth’s voice that broke the stillness.
Not till Frank and Clyde had begun to snore had Ransom time to care for his aching heels. To pull off his boots was trying, but when he came to take off his stockings he could hardly suppress a cry of agony. The blood had clotted and stuck to the raw spot, and it felt as if he was pulling the nerves out by the roots. It was a long time before the burning pain allowed him to sleep.
At the first opportunity the voyage was continued; and it was with a feeling of relief almost amounting to hilarity that the line ashore was cast off, and the “Gazelle,” her bowsprit pointing down stream, got under way again. That treacherous place, fraught with so many perils, such weariness, pain, and anxiety, was behind them at last.
They were headed for the land of promise, the real “Sunny South.”
Even Arthur seemed to be less fretful, less exacting. Perhaps the swish of the water along the yacht’s smooth sides was soothing, or maybe the heave of the little craft as she felt the pressure of the wind, comforted the sick boy. Certainly, it had that effect on his more fortunate companions.
When the “Gazelle” flew past the mouth of the Ohio River and anchored just below, the crew felt that they were really getting there. They visited Cairo, and though they were impressed with the advantage of its superior location at the junction of the two great rivers, they were glad that they did not live in its low-lying streets.