“The river is pretty broad about there, and the shallow is not very wide; so, stranger, you must keep direct for the landing-place, which you will see on the opposite side. Better drive up than down the stream, but better still to keep straight across,” added his informant.
“Oh, Patrick, must you positively cross that wide extent of water?” exclaimed my mother as we reached the bank and she surveyed the broad river flowing by.
“There are marks of wheels on this side, and I make out an easy landing-place on the other,” answered my father.
Having surveyed the ford, my father without hesitation drove in, telling my mother not to be afraid, as he did not suppose that the water would reach above the axles.
The stream as it flowed by, bubbled and hissed between the wheels, making me quite giddy to look at it. The water grew deeper and deeper until it reached the axles; then in a little time on looking down I saw it bubbling up through the bottom of the waggon.
My father did not turn his head, but keeping his eyes steadily fixed on the landing-place, urged on the horses. They had not got more than half-way over when they began to plunge in a manner which threatened to break the harness. Again my father shouted and applied his whip over their backs; the animals seemed every instant as if about to lose their legs, while the water not only bubbled up through the bottom, but completely flowed over it. To turn round was impossible, not only from the construction of the waggon, but from the pressure of water, and in all probability had the attempt been made an overturn would have been the consequence.
My mother suppressed her fears, but grasped me tighter than ever. Presently I heard a dull roar, and looking up the river I saw a white-crested wave—so it appeared—curling down upon us. My father saw it too. He leapt from the waggon into the water, which reached almost up to his shoulders, and seizing the horses’ heads, endeavoured to drag them forward. Every instant the current became stronger and deeper and deeper. At last it seemed as if the waggon must inevitably be swept away down the stream. Just then I heard a shout from the shore, where I saw a black man running rapidly towards us. Without stopping a moment he rushed into the water, wading as far as the depth would allow him, then he struck out swimming, and quickly reached the horses’ heads.
“Here, massa stranger, nebber fear, dis boy help you,” he exclaimed, and seizing the bridle of one of the animals he pointed to a spot, a little lower down the bank. My father, being taller than the negro, was still able, though with difficulty, to keep his feet, and grasping the bridle of the other horse, he followed the advice he had received. Before, however, we had gone far, the wave was upon us. The next instant the waggon was lifted up and jerked violently round. I had until then been holding on, but how it happened I cannot tell, for I felt myself suddenly thrown into the water. I heard my mother’s shriek of frantic despair, and my father shouted to her to hold on for her life, while he dragged forward the horses, whose feet almost the next moment must have touched the firm ground.
“Me save him!” cried the black, “go on, massa stranger, go on, all safe now,” and the brave fellow, relinquishing his hold of the horse, which he left to my father’s guidance, swam off to where I was struggling in the seething water. With one arm he seized me round the waist, and keeping my head above the surface, struck out once more towards the bank. His feet fortunately soon regained the ground, and wading on while he pressed with all his might against the current, he carried me safely in his arms to the bank. Having placed me on the grass, he hastened back to assist my father in dragging up the waggon.
My mother, as may be supposed, had all the time been watching me with unspeakable anxiety, forgetting the danger in which she herself was placed. As the banks sloped very gradually, the horses, by a slight effort, contrived to drag the waggon up to the level ground.