The Three Admirals

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Thus they went on without relaxing their efforts for an instant until sunset, when the shades of night quickly crept over the scene. Tom felt very unwilling to go further from the coast, and proposed looking out for some creek or bay, shaded by trees, where they could remain concealed until their enemies were likely to be no longer watching the river, and they might steal down unobserved. No such spot, however, could they discover, and when at last wearied by their exertions they stopped paddling, they heard the shrieks of their pursuers in the distance.

“They have not given up the chase yet,” observed Desmond. “The fact of their following us shows that they fear we may escape them by some other way. Perhaps we may find a branch with another outlet to the sea.”

“Oh, do let us paddle on,” cried Billy. “I don’t like the thoughts of being caught and eaten by the savages.”

“Whether they eat men or not, they will knock us on the head, and it will come to much the same thing,” said Casey; “so that we had better keep ahead of them until they give up the chase, and very likely, when they don’t find us, they will fancy that we have landed, and turn back to where they come from.”

The paddles were accordingly plied with as much vigour as before. Tom had a pocket compass, but it was too dark to see it; he however judged by the stars overhead that the river was running from the southward, and he hoped, by landing on the right bank, to be able to strike eastward across the country and regain the sea-shore. Had he known the nature of the task, he would have considered the undertaking far more difficult than he now supposed it to be. In vain he and his companions looked out for another branch of the river which they might descend. No opening appeared either on one side or the other. After paddling on for another hour, they again stopped. At first no sounds were heard except the cries of night birds and the strange shrieks of animals in the forest.

“We might pull in now to one bank or the other, and rest until it is time to slip down again,” observed Desmond.

They were on the point of doing as proposed, when again the sound of the natives’ voices was heard coming up the stream. The enemy had probably by this time been joined by the other canoes which had been seen on the banks, and Tom confessed that he considered the risk of attempting to escape by the way they had come very great. The only thing they could therefore do was to keep on until Tom and Desmond had good reason to believe that they had completely distanced their pursuers, and then as soon as it was daylight they might hope to strike across the country and regain the coast, where they were sure that the boats would be on the look-out for them.

For some time they had seen no lights on the banks or other indications that the country was inhabited, and the further they got up the river the less risk there was of being discovered. They had not correctly calculated the distance they had gone. There had been for some time little or no current against them, but this they had not discovered while they were paddling on. The tide was setting up the river, and had thus sent them on much faster than they had supposed. Nick and Pipes urged them to continue their course.

“All right; we get away!” cried Nick.

“No fear,” cried Pipes. “Paddle, boys, paddle!” Thus hour after hour they paddled on, until Tom declared that it would be folly to go further, and that they must either land or else secure the canoe to the trunk of a tree and wait in her until daylight. The latter plan was adopted. Steering to the right bank, where some thick branches overhung the stream, they secured the canoe to the stem of a small tree.