The night seemed to pass very slowly, and we nodded wearily over our paddles before the first appearance of daylight gave us an excuse for landing, which we did at the first practicable place. The banks were knee-deep in mud, but we were too tired and sleepy to search further, and carried our things to drier ground higher up, where a land-slip from a steep cliff had formed a small level space a few yards square. The face of the cliff was semi-circular, and its aspect due south; not a breath of air was stirring, and as we slept with nothing to shade us from the fiery rays of the mid-day sun, we awoke half baked. Some ducks which we had killed the evening before were already stinking and half putrid, and had to be thrown away as unfit for food. We found the position unbearable, and, reluctantly re-loading our canoes, took to the river again, and paddled languidly along until evening. This camp, which we called “The Oven,” was by far the warmest place we ever found, with the exception of the town of Acapulco, in Mexico, which stands in a very similar situation.
A week after we left Georgetown our provisions fell short, for the pemmican proved worthless, and fell to the lot of Rover, and we supplied ourselves entirely by shooting the wild-fowl, which were tolerably plentiful. The young geese, although almost full-grown and feathered, were not yet able to fly, but afforded capital sport. When hotly pursued they dived as we came near in the canoes, and, if too hardly pushed, took to the shore. This was generally a fatal mistake; Milton immediately landed with Rover, who quickly discovered them lying with merely their heads hidden in the grass or bushes, and they were then captured.
When engaged in this exciting amusement one day, Milton went ahead down stream in chase of a wounded bird, while Treemiss and Cheadle remained behind to look after some others which had taken to the land. The former was paddling away merrily after his prey, when, at a sudden turn of the river, he came upon the steamer warping up a shallow rapid. Eager to get on board and taste the good things we had lately lacked, he swept down the current alongside the overhanging deck of the steamer. The stream was rough and very strong, and its force was increased by the effect of the stern-wheel of the steamer in rapid motion in the narrow channel. The canoe was drawn under the projecting deck, but Milton clung tightly to it, and the friendly hands of some of the crew seized and hauled him and his canoe safely on board. The others following shortly afterwards, and observing the steamer in like manner, were equally delighted, and dashed away down stream in order to get on board as quickly as possible.
The stern-wheel was now stopped, but as they neared the side it was suddenly put in motion again, and the canoe carried at a fearful pace past the side of the boat, sucked in by the whirlpool of the wheel. By the most frantic exertions, the two saved themselves from being drawn under, but were borne down the rapid about a quarter of a mile. Rover attempting a similar feat, was carried down after them, struggling vainly against the powerful current. Great was the wrath of Cheadle and Treemiss against the captain for the trick he had served them, and they squabbled no little with each other also, as they vainly strove to re-ascend the rapid. Three times they made the attempt, but were as often swept back, and had to commence afresh. By paddling with all their might they succeeded in getting within a hundred yards of the steamer; but at this point, where the stream narrowed and shot with double force round a sharp turn in the channel, the head of the canoe was swept round in spite of all their efforts, and down they went again.
When they were on the eve of giving up in despair, the other canoe appeared darting down towards them, manned by two men whose masterly use of the paddle proclaimed them to be old voyageurs. Coming alongside, one of them exchanged places with Cheadle, and thus, each having a skilful assistant, by dint of hugging the bank, and warily avoiding the strength of the current, they easily reached the critical point for the fourth time. Here again was a fierce struggle. Swept back repeatedly for a few yards, but returning instantly to the attack, they at last gained the side of the steamer. The captain kindly stopped half an hour to allow us to have a good dinner. Finding the steamer would probably be a week before she returned, we obtained a fresh stock of flour and salt pork, and went on our way again. Presently we found Rover, who had got to land a long way down the stream, and took him on board again.
After a few days’ slow and monotonous voyaging, being again frequently obliged to stop in order to repair our leaky craft, we decided to try a night journey once more. The night was clear and starlight, but in the course of an hour or two ominous clouds began to roll up from the west, and the darkness increased. We went on, however, hoping that there would be no storm. But before long, suddenly, as it seemed to us, the darkness became complete; then, without previous warning, a dazzling flash of lightning lit up for a moment the wild scene around us, and almost instantaneously a tremendous clap of thunder, an explosion like the bursting of a magazine, caused us to stop paddling, and sit silent and appalled. A fierce blast of wind swept over the river, snapping great trees like twigs on every side; the rain poured down in floods, and soaked us through and through; flash followed flash in quick succession, with its accompanying roar of thunder; whilst at intervals between, a dim, flickering light, faint and blue, like the flame of a spirit lamp, or the “Will-o’-the-wisp,” hovered over the surface of the water, but failed to light up the dense blackness of the night. With this came an ominous hissing, like the blast of a steam pipe, varying with the wind, now sounding near as the flame approached, now more distant as it wandered away.
We were in the very focus of the storm; the whole air was charged with electricity, and the changing currents of the electric fluid, or the shifting winds, lifted and played with our hair in passing. The smell of ozone was so pungent that it fairly made us snort again, and forced itself on our notice amongst the other more fearful phenomena of the storm. We made an attempt to land at once, but the darkness was so intense that we could not see to avoid the snags and fallen timber which beset the steep, slippery bank; and the force of the stream bumped us against them in a manner which warned us to desist, if we would avoid being swamped or knocking holes in the paper sides of our frail craft. We had little chance of escape in that case, for the river was deep, and it would be almost impossible to clamber up the slippery face of the bank, even if we succeeded in finding it, through the utter darkness in which we were enveloped. There was nothing else for it but to face it out till daylight, and we therefore fastened the two canoes together, and again gave ourselves up to the fury of the storm. We had some difficulty in bringing the two canoes alongside, but by calling out to one another, and by the momentary glimpses obtained during the flashes of lightning, we at last effected it. Treemiss, crouching in the bows, kept a sharp look-out, while we, seated in the stern, steered by his direction. As each flash illuminated the river before us for an instant, he was able to discern the rocks and snags ahead, and a vigorous stroke of our paddles carried us clear during the interval of darkness.
After a short period of blind suspense, the next flash showed us that we had avoided one danger to discover another a few yards in front. Hour after hour passed by, but the storm raged as furiously, and the rain came down as fast as ever. We looked anxiously for the first gleam of daylight, but the night seemed as if it would never come to an end. The canoes were gradually filling with water, which had crept up nearly to our waists, and the gunwales were barely above the surface. It became very doubtful whether they would float till daybreak.
The night air was raw and cold, and as we sat in our involuntary hip-bath, with the rain beating upon us, we shivered from head to foot; our teeth chattered, and our hands became so benumbed that we could scarcely grasp the paddles. But we dared not take a moment’s rest from our exciting work, in watching and steering clear of the snags and rocks, although we were almost tempted to give up, and resign ourselves to chance.
Never will any of us forget the misery of that night, or the intense feeling of relief we experienced when we first observed rather a lessening of the darkness than any positive appearance of light. Shortly before this, the storm began sensibly to abate; but the rain poured down as fast as ever when we hastily landed in the grey morning on a muddy bank, the first practicable place we came to. Drawing our canoes high on shore, that they might not be swept off by the rising flood, we wrapped ourselves in our dripping blankets, and, utterly weary and worn out, slept long and soundly.[1]