Pelican Pool: A Novel

by Sydney Loch

He wondered what he was thinking of, and he found he was not thinking. Instead, he was filled with a grievous sense of tragedy. He was late. Once more he was late. He had left her alone to die.

In the teeth of better judgment he tightened the reins and signalled greater speed. A blaze of lightning tore the sky in half; the thunder shattered overhead and the rains rushed out of the sky. He thought the shock had thrown the beast off its feet. It propped on the instant and swung around. Good luck and skill held him in the saddle. He strove to turn it around, but it would not answer him. His nerves were worn raw and his temper got the better of wisdom. He fell upon it with whip and spur.

It came round at last and began to thrust sideways through the downpour. The rains scourged them. The water leapt from his shoulders back into his face. The landscape was blotted out. In an instant the lower half of him was wet through. He could not see. He could hear nothing but the rain. He felt the suck and draw of the animal's hoofs as it rolled along. Again and again the lightning thrust its arms about the sky. He rode through the rain-burst for a very long time. Without warning he passed out on the other side. The rain stopped, the storm rolled behind him, the day grew bright again.

He had covered most of the journey. The river was a mile away, but his horse was done. He himself felt dazed and his clothes held him with clammy fingers. The passing of the storm had left the world very still. He rubbed the water from his eyes. Someone was ahead of him. A buggy advanced to the edge of the timbered country. It contained only the driver, who was crouched over the reins. He thought he recognised King.

Something farther away than King arrested his vision. Half of the journey had been made across a sheet of shallow water; but over there, where the higher trees began, the water eddied and tossed, betraying the edge of the river. He looked on the highest flood in his memory. The timber concealed the great body of water; but far away on the other side of the trees climbed the flood. A deep note came across to him; the voice of the river hurrying to its marriage with the sea.

He did not remember finishing the journey. He bullied a spent horse the rest of the way. After a long time they reached the edge of the timber where a minute or two before the buggy had come to a halt.

He pulled up the horse beside the buggy. Mr. King had got down and was standing in the water. They did not trouble to greet each other, and he thought King looked out of his mind. They stood on the edge of the flood waters. Half-a-mile away the body of the river roared on its journey. In the intervening space the trees stood out of the sluggish water shaking their damaged boughs in the wind. The shaded ways, the quiet places had gone; there was no sign of Pelican Pool.

His breath came back, and with his breath returned his presence of mind. He forgot the man beside him and stared over the ears of the horse. One by one old landmarks were picked up, and at last his eye found the wreckage of the hut. It was a third of the way across the river. The main body of water swept beyond it, but an arm of the river had come in this way. Horror laid a hand upon his heart.

A terrible cry rang out beside him. "My Princess! My Princess!" Mr. King was looking at the hut. Of a sudden he began running towards it. He ran stumbling a long way and stopped only when the water reached his knees. He threw his arms before him and cried again in the terrible voice: "My Princess! My Princess!" The roar of the river came back in answer.

Power touched the horse with his heel and it began to walk forward through the water. As the depth increased, the beast snorted and threw about its head. They had advanced a little way, when O'Neill overtook them, and the two men moved side by side towards the broken water.