I wish I could tell the reader all the events of that wonderful voyage: how they paddled down merrily with the stream; how they found their desert island covered with nettles, which they had to mow down with their oars; how the soup-kettle wouldn’t act, and the stew-pan leaked; how grand the potted lobster tasted; how Stephen offered to make tea with muddy water, and how the paraffin oil of their lanterns leaked all over their plum-cake and sandwiches; how Stephen was sent up inland to forage, and came back with wonderful purchases of eggs and milk; how they started off one day leaving their tent behind them, and had to row back in a panic to recover it; how it rained one night, and a puddle formed on the roof of the tent, which presently grew so big that it overflowed and gave Wraysford a shower-bath; how each morning they all took headers into the stream, much to the alarm of the sleepy ducks; how they now and then ran foul of a boat, and now and then were turned off their camping ground by an indignant keeper! It was glorious fun. But it would take a volume to recount all that happened to them.
They were coming near the end of their cruise. They had paddled down past the magnificent woods of Cliveden, and under the pretty bridge of Maidenhead; they had watched the boys bathing at “Athens,” and they had rowed through the gloomy shadow of Windsor Castle and on past Eton.
Here the river is broken by a string of islands, which in many parts make the stream narrow; and the river being full of boats and barges, our three adventurers found themselves called upon to exercise more than ordinary precautions in keeping their course. This responsibility became at last so irksome that Oliver said, “I say, can’t we get out of this rabble anyhow? Why shouldn’t we take the other side of the islands?”
“I don’t know. It would be a good deal quieter. I wonder none of the boats do it.”
“Let’s try, anyhow. We can’t be far from the lock, and then the river will be wider. Take us up inside the next island, Stee, and mind you don’t foul any one while you’re about it.”
Stephen did as he was bid. The stream was pretty strong just there, and the two rowers had to pull pretty hard to get round without drifting on to the island.
Once out of the main stream, they were delighted to find the course clear. Indeed, they had the channel all to themselves.
“What a jolly pace the stream is going at!” said Stephen; “why don’t you drift, you fellows, instead of pulling like that?”
“Good idea for you, young ’un,” said Wraysford, pulling in his oar. Oliver followed his example.
“Keep a look-out ahead,” said he to Stephen, “and sing out if any thing’s coming.”