"Hawkins, stand out!""Please, sir, I wasn't doin' nothin'!""No, you wasn't doin' nothin', but you have been talking all morning, you tiresome boy! Write out 'disobedient' three hundred times after school."The fact is, Tom was relating the bushranging episode to a schoolmate, and, like Tom Sawyer, he "laid over" considerably in his recital. While in the act of enlarging he was brought to book in this peremptory fashion by the master, and had to do penance with as little relish as most boys."Sorry you can't come out and play, Tom," said Joe Blain, poking his head into the empty schoolhouse after dismissal."It's a beastly shame! What are you fellows up to?""Goin' to practise for the Dingdongla match. After that we'll have a swim.""Oh, rot it!" grunted the chagrined prisoner."Say, Tom, don't forget to come along to-night an' help pick the team.""I'll be there, never fret.""Well, so-long. Wire in, and keep your pecker up."Dingdongla was an up-river settlement; Tareela a down-river town. The latter named was the older and more substantial place, being the headquarters of the shipping. As a consequence it was instinct with the superior air generally to be met with in places of metropolitan pretensions. In schools, too, the down-river town had the advantage. Its school building was of sawn timber, with a shingle roof. Furthermore, it possessed two teachers, and pine desks. While, on the other hand, the up-river academy was constructed of roughly adzed slabs and a bark roof.For the Dingdonglas to be thrashed in cricket by the Tareelians was not considered to be a disgrace.Per contra, their victory was a splendid achievement, and a great humiliation to their opponents. The latter was fairly beaten by the former last season, and naught would restore their prestige save the administration of an unmitigated licking. So, at least, thought the match Committee, as they conned names, and analysed the merits of the candidates on the name list.Needless to say, Joe, Tom, and Sandy headed the list of certainties. Yellow Billy came next; for though a very irregular attendant at school, he was a tremendous swiper when he got his eye in. Billy had dragged more than one match out of the fire.Saturday morning broke fair. Shortly after an early breakfast a cavalcade of about twenty youthful horsemen, followed by two teachers in a gig, were scampering along the bush road to Dingdongla, distant about nine miles up the river. Oh, the merry, merry days of youth! Those are the days of the superlative mood.It was a merry, roaring, romping, racing crowd of youngsters that tore along the bush track. They jumped fallen timber and gullies; chased the flying marsupial; and spurted in couples for short lengths. There were minor accidents, 'tis true. Pincher Putnan's horse, in a fit of pig-jumping, broke a girth, sending Pincher and saddle to mother earth. Yellow Billy's half-broken brumby fairly bolted in a race, cleared off the road, and rushed through a belt of timber at breakneck speed, towards his native haunts in the Nulla ranges. It was only the superb horsemanship of the half-caste that saved him from being dashed against the trees in the headlong flight.In due time Dingdongla is reached. The horses are turned out in a maize stubble paddock, where is a fine picking, and the boys stroll on to the ground to have a look at the pitch."Whatyer think of the pitch, Joe?""You'll have to keep your eye skinned for shooters Rody. The ball'll keep very low. Must keep a straight bat and forward play."The stumps, like much of the material, were home-made. The Dingdonglas had only one "spring handle"; the others were chopped out of beech boards. The Tareelians were not much better off for material. They, it is true, had two "spring handles,"—more or less battered,—and could boast a pair of wicket gloves, but for the rest were like their opponents, sans leggings and gloves. That, however, was a small item; for every boy who possessed boots doffed them, rolling his trouser legs to the knees and his shirt sleeves to the elbows."Got all your men, Wilson?" said Joe to the Dingdonglas' captain."Yes, they're all here. May as well toss for innin's, Joe.""Right you are," responds Joe, ejecting a jet of saliva on a piece of flat wood. "Shall I toss, or you?""You toss, Joe.""Call you!" cried Blain, tossing the board with a twirl skywards. "Wet or dry?""Wet!" called Wilson, as the wood spun in the air."Dry!" exclaimed Joe, as it lay on the ground with its dry side uppermost. "We've won, and go in.""Tom," said he a moment later, "you and Yellow Billy go in first, an' you take the strike."The batsmen were soon in their places, and the Dingdongs in the field. The innings opened fairly well for the Tareelians. Yellow Billy got quickly to work, and laid on the wood to some purpose; Tom playing carefully the while.Facing the Dingdonglas' swift bowler, after a smart short-hit run Billy sent a well-pitched ball for four, a rattling, straight-hit drive. But in trying to repeat the stroke off the next ball he misjudged, and, skying the sphere, was easily caught."One wicket for twenty!" of which the half-caste contributed fifteen.After this the troubles of the batsmen set in. The Dingdongs were strong in bowling talent, and possessed a local Spofforth, whose lightning deliveries shot and kicked in a marvellous fashion. Joe, going in fifth man, stayed the "rot" for a while, but was foolishly run out by his mate.The Tareelians were all out in an hour for the small total of forty-seven. If the down-river boys were despondent over this score, the up-rivers were correspondingly jubilant. Going to the wickets with plenty of confidence, they rattled up ninety-nine before the last wicket fell; the captain carrying out his bat for a well-earned forty-two.Adjournment for lunch was now made. We call it lunch by courtesy. It was a big bush feed. This repast was served in the schoolhouse, the rough desks being converted into tables, which were literally covered with good things.The Dingdonglas' mothers were determined that, whoever won, the boys of both sides should have a rippin' feed. A stuffed sucking-pig, whose savoury odour filled the room, lay at one end. Roast wild duck and a cold pigeon-pie balanced it at the other. An immense round of spiced beef, standing in the centre of the long table, seemed to say: "You may cut and come again." Potatoes and pumpkins smoked in big tin bowls, and all the available space was filled with cakes, puddings, and pies. Needless to say, the onslaught was terrific. They were all sloggers at tuck. Meats, puddings, cakes, tea, and ginger-beer disappeared like magic.All good things mundane, however, come to an end; especially when the good thing happens to be a dinner. And now, after divers whisperings and nudgings, up stood Captain Joe, amid the cheers of his side.Joe was silent a moment, nervously looking up and down the board, and heartily wishing himself at the bottom of the deep blue sea. "Mr. Chairman" (addressing the local schoolmaster), "I—we—that is—us fellows from Tareela asked me to tell you—I mean to say, that—that—that—a—it gives us much pleasure—er—er—oh, hang it all!—I—I mean—er—this is the jolliest blow in the way of tuck we've ever had." Joe subsided to the rattle of the knives on the bare board. As soon as the noise ceased, Tom Hawkins jumped up and called: "Three cheers for the Dingdonglas!" which were heartily given.Half an hour's lounge, and the battle began afresh."We've got fifty-two to wipe out before we start even, boys. We can do it, and score plenty more to win the game, if we keep our heads. Anyway, we must have a big try. Billy an' I'll go in first; Tom next, and then Pincher. The order of the rest of you depends on the way things turn out.""Look here, Billy," continued the captain, as the two batsmen walked to the wickets. "They've got two slashing bowlers, but if we can manage to knock 'em out they've no one else of much account. Get your eye well in before you do any slogging.""All right, Joe! Do me best.""Your best means steady play and a big score. I'll take the strike."If Joe was nervous in public speech it was not observable in action. He played Ginger Smith's fast deliveries with confidence, punishing the loose balls and blocking the straight ones. Billy, too, was playing with unwonted caution, and the score, though slowly, was surely mounting up; until after half an hour's play it stood at twenty-five, with no wickets down. There were no boundaries, and every hit was run out."Oh, glory, what a swipe!"Yellow Billy had got hold of one of Ginger's leg balls with a mighty lunge. The ball seemed as if it would go on for ever, and finally rolled into a gutter. They ran six for it.There was great cheering among the Tareelians. Mr. Simpson, who umpired, forgot for a moment his impartial office. Flinging his hat into the air, he cried, "Bravo, Billy!""Thirty-one an' none out. Only twenty-one to get level!"The boys were now scoring faster; singles, twos, threes were coming with great rapidity. Joe made his first four, a sweet, square cut."Forty-nine an' no wickets down!"Joe faced the new bowler. The local demon had begun to bowl wildly, and was relieved."They'll never bowl them!" cried young Ben Wilde, as Joe took block for the new-comer—a lad with a reputation for slow left-hand twisters. The first ball was pitched on the leg stump; just the ball for Joe's favourite leg glance.It went for two."Only one to make us even!" shouted Tom to his captain. The second ball was pitched in exactly the same spot, and Joe proceeded to treat it in the same fashion. The sphere, however, had a little more twist on it than its predecessor, and, breaking on to the left bail, flicked it off.There was a great chorus of disappointment among the Tareelians, and hearty cheers from their opponents, as the captain's wicket fell. His twenty-one, got by true cricket, was worth twice that number by reason of the spirit of confidence he had infused.Billy and Tom carried the score to seventy-three, when the latter was caught for ten. Pincher fell a victim to a very simple ball from an under-hand lob bowler, after making seven. Sandy gave the bowlers some trouble, and got into double figures before he retired. All this while Billy was scoring well, and, when Sandy's wicket fell, had made fifty runs. All the boys scored less or more; and when the innings closed had compiled a total of one hundred and thirty-seven, of which Billy made seventy-one and not out. This was a grand achievement, and the half-caste was carried off the ground amid great applause.This left the Dingdongs eighty-six runs to win, which they failed to do by seventeen runs, Sleepy Sam stumping no less than three off young Ben's slow lobs.There was great cheering as the victorious cricketers rode in the dusk of the evening through the main street of Tareela, after a grand day's fun.CHAPTER VTHE BIG FLOOD"The day is cold and dark and dreary;It rains, and the wind is never weary;The vine still clings to the mouldering wall;But at every gust the dead leaves fall,And the day is dark and dreary."LONGFELLOW.Drip, drip, drip!Croak, croak, c-r-o-a-k!Quack-quack, quack-quack!"Heigho!" grunted Tom Hawkins, as he turned over sleepily in bed. "Is it ever goin' to stop rainin'?"For some days a steady rain had been falling, soaking the ground. Every gully was a rivulet, and every depression a lake."Tom!" cried a feminine voice from an interior room. "Get up!""Bother those frogs an' ducks!" muttered the lad, full of sleep in the grey of the early morning. "Like ter choke 'em! waking fler——""Tom!" cried a masculine voice, as a hand rattled the door of the lad's bedroom, and a boot gave a drum-like accompaniment on the lower panel. "Git up this minit an' run the cows in, or I'll——"But Tom had jumped out of bed as nimbly as one of the frogs, between whose croak and his father's bass voice he seemed unable, in his sleepy condition, to discriminate."All right, father! I'm dressing," shouted Tom, as the word "dowsing" fell on his ear. There had been times in master Tom's past when a sudden application of cold water was deemed necessary to expedite his slow movements."Dad's too mighty smart! Thought I'd nick him with that button," growled Tom, as he stuck his legs into his pants; said button being an iron tee snip, fastened so as to act as a bolt."Jemima! ain't it dark! Must be very early," muttered the reluctant boy, as he strove to lace his boots. "Drat it! Shan't wear 'em; too wet.""My crikey!" cried he as he stood outside. "Must have been rainin' cats an' dogs, an' lakes an' seas."His moleskins were rolled up to his thighs, while a cornsack, hooded at the bottom, and stuck on to his head like a nun's veil, gave him fair protection from the driving showers."I wonder if it's goin' to be a flood?" The thought was not unpleasant to the lad. It produced, indeed, a certain exaltation of spirits, forcibly expressed in Tom's vernacular by, "Ge-willikins! but won't we have fun!"Heavily laden clouds, in interminable succession, were drifting from the sea, forming, as they swung overhead in batches, an endless series of smart showers. It had been an exceptionally wet week, and for the preceding twenty-four hours had rained without ceasing.The cows depastured in a paddock that ran back from a creek to the timbered country. The creek itself was bank high and running strongly. It was only by climbing along the branches of a dead limb, which spanned the water, that Tom managed to reach the kine.It was no small task to get them to face the stream. Small as was the creek in width, it was deep enough to make a swim, and the roaring, turbid, and muddy stream frightened the creatures. But for the fact that the calves were in a pen at the milking yard all Tom's efforts would have been futile. Their mooing and baaing, however, made a loud appeal to the maternal breast. Finally, when the old red poley, the mother of twins, made a plunge, the rest followed.During the morning the river rose steadily, and large quantities of drift-wood passed down the stream. With the rubbish was a good deal of heavy timber, and—what Tom had predicted—pumpkins. This was an indication that the river up-stream had overflowed its banks in places, and was sweeping the low-lying farm lands. Tom spent the morning in fishing out the floating vegetables that came within reach of his hooked pole. Meanwhile the rain continued, and looked as though it might last for forty days and nights."I'll pull over to the township this afternoon," remarked Mr. Hawkins at the midday meal. "I'm anxious about this rise. Looks as if we're goin' to have an old man flood. Might get some information about the state of things up-river. If I leave it till to-morrow 'twill be a tough job gettin' acrost, as the timber's comin' down pretty thick now, an'll be worse by an' by.""Be sure'n bring tea and flour back with you. No knowing how long the rise'll last.""Can I go with you, father?""Yes; I'll require you to steer. It'll be a pretty stiff job, I reckon."The crossing was not without peril. The current ran fierce and strong. The landing-place on the other side was protected, in a measure, by a headland up-stream. Out from the influence of that, however, the boatmen felt the full force of the current. The water seethed and foamed. The violence of its rush created great whirlpools, which accentuated the difficulty of keeping the boat's head up-stream. Logs and driftwood patches had to be dodged, and, what with fighting the current and outflanking the timber, by the time the river was crossed the boat had drifted quite half a mile down-stream. On gaining the other side they found a shore eddy, in which they were able to paddle up-stream with ease, until they came to a point of land about two hundred yards below the town wharf. As they lost the eddy here, and would have to encounter the full force of the flood when round the point, Mr. Hawkins wisely determined to tie up the boat in the slack water.When Hawkins arrived at the store, where many of the townsfolk had congregated, he was informed that news had been brought down by the mailman that morning to the effect that heavy rains were falling at the head of the river, and that when the New England waters came down in full force the river might rise to the "high flood" marks.Cooees could now be heard from the settlers in the low-lying portions, adjacent to the township. They proceeded from those who had neglected to move before being surrounded, and who were without boats. The police were busily engaged in rescuing families by boat. Many townsfolk were engaged on the same merciful errand.All through the day the waters, fed by the flooded creeks, continued to rise, and as evening approached anxiety deepened. Things were so serious that Mr. Hawkins, whose farm, be it said, was situated on comparatively low-lying lands, acting upon the advice of his friends, returned home almost at once. After hoisting the most valuable of his possessions to the rafters, and securing them there, he returned to the township with his family; gaining it as dusk was deepening into dark. The family was distributed among neighbours, Tom and one of his sisters being quartered at Mr. Blain's.A group of men and boys throughout the day had lined the bank of the river, in the vicinity of the Government wharf, which was submerged. They were engaged in gauging its rate of advance by pine laths scaled to inches.Towards evening the wind, veering from east to south-east, increased in violence. Laden with torrential showers, it smote the earth in great gusts, streaming through roofs and walls, and taxing the ingenuity of housekeepers to find dry spots for beds.The wind and flood waters, travelling in opposite directions, conflicted with great violence. The roaring, boastful wind, as it lashed the racing, defiant waters into angry waves, and the universe-filling sounds of the seething, surging flood-waters, as they wrestled with and overbore all opposing forces, made storm music, compared with which the artifices of man touch the infinitely puny. Darkness and the blinding rain had driven most of the river watchers indoors. A few, however, braved the elements, among them the minister and the lads.Whatever effect the flood may have had on others, the dominant feeling in Mr. Blain's mind was that of solicitude. As the rain continued, deep concern merged into alarm. There were few on the river who knew as intimately as he the general havoc of a flood. The executive head of the Flood-relief Committee for many years, he had been the chief instrument in administering doles to flood victims. In many cases the utmost relief was as a drop of succour in the ocean of need."If the rise continues for another twenty-four hours, as it is doing now, it will beat the 'sixty-four flood, and, if so, God help our down-river friends," remarked the minister after examining Joe's gauge by the aid of a lantern.The '64 flood was the highest known to white men up to the present. The settlers still retained a vivid recollection of its disastrous effects. Luckily, the township covered a piece of high ground, and though the low parts were covered in a moderate flood, the higher portions were some feet above the highest flood-mark. It was in the farming settlements that danger lurked."If this yere flood beats 'sixty-four, it'll be as you say, Parson; good-bye to many up-river an' down-river folk."Mr. Blain's words had impressed both men and boys. Suddenly Joe, who was in the midst of the group, sang out lustily—"Hurrah! wind's changed!""What's that?" shouted back Mr. Blain excitedly."Don't you feel it?" cried the boy, as he swung his arms windmill fashion."Yes; thank God! The lad's right," continued he. "The wind's chopping. Don't you feel it, men? Ah! there's a decided puff from the north-east.""Take my word for it," said the ferryman, an old sailor, "the wind'll be blowing west afore morning.""Pray God it may!" ejaculated the minister, and many a silent prayer was uttered."Now, boys, let us return home. We can do no good standing here. We'll come back in an hour or so.""Listen!" exclaimed Tom, as the boys splashed through the water on their way home. Laying his hand on Joe's shoulder, he cried, "Do you hear that?""Don't hear anything but the roar of the river," replied Joe, as he stood in a listening attitude. "What was it?""Hark! there it is again. A cooee. Seems to come from up the river, near the Bend. Some un's in trouble.""Now, boys, make haste and get in out of the rain," cried Mr. Blain, who had hurried along."Some one's crying out for help at the Bend," shouted Joe.The minister paused on hearing this. A moment later the cry came out of the night: faint, because of the distance and the turmoil of sounds, yet clear and convincing."Great God! some poor soul in dire straits, and no help possible before morning!"It would have been worse than madness to attempt any rescue till daylight. To traverse the flood, even in daytime, anywhere near the Bend, were a hazardous experiment, owing to the enormous vortices caused by the current striking a high bluff on the near side, at the elbow. The waters whirled like a merry-go-round under full steam, and boiled with an upward heave, in a fashion similar to the mud springs of Tiketere. None but the stoutest boat and most experienced rowers could dodge these seething cauldrons, which caught into their cold and cruel embrace trees, fencing, stock; anything material, in fact. The heaviest logs and tree-lengths were as wisps of straw under the influence of the mighty suction. To attempt the traverse at night were as foolhardy and impossible as that of shooting Niagara in an open boat.A little group stood with the Blains, listening to the weird cry."Who d'yer think it c'd be, sir?" said one of the men, turning to the minister."Not any of the Bend families. We had word this afternoon saying that they had retreated to the high land before the waters reached them. God help the poor soul, whoever it is, for vain is the help of man!"Throughout the live-long night the cry went up at intervals, like that of the minute-gun of a distressed vessel. Shortly before daybreak it ceased.No man or woman in the township slept that night. A strict watch was kept on the river, so as to be ready for any emergency. The waters continued to advance, but at a much slower rate. Men and women cudgelled their brains to individualise the wailing cry. Most were agreed that it was a woman's cry, though some held it to be that of a child. Sometimes the voice was ghoulish, and made the flesh to creep and the heart to flutter. Then an intensely human note would prevail, full of anguish and terror, and women wept and stopped their ears, while strong men choked in the throat.They would go out at intervals and send back a heartening cry; it was all that could be done. There were many others throughout that fearful night who were engulfed in the flood, in various parts of the river, and, swan-like, wailed their death-song in the wild waste.Shortly after midnight the rain ceased, and the wind, which had been chopping and changing for the past few hours, settled finally in the west. This proved a conspicuous advantage. It no longer checked the flood-waters as when in the east, and there was now good hope that they would recede ere long, as the rise was almost imperceptible.[image]"Suddenly the Forest Monarch topples, lurches, staggers and falls with mighty crash."—See p.43.When day had dawned a wild, weird scene was revealed. The town had become an island. On all sides the flood-waters stretched out, covering gardens and farms, and completely blotting out the fair landscape. On the riverside the turgid stream tore along in its hurry, bearing on its dirty, foam-crested bosom, as its spoils, the household gods, farm stock, and produce of many a settler. Horses, cattle, pigs, goats, dogs, fowls: these, swept off by the encroaching waters, and carried over fences into the stream, struggled, vainly for the most part, in the rapid, death-dealing current. Haystacks, barns, wood-frame buildings intact, floated in the torrential waters, sooner or later crashing into the great trees that bore down-stream, making utter shipwreck.CHAPTER VION THE FACE OF THE WATERS"The floods have lifted up, O Lord, the floods have lifted up their voice; the floods lift up their waves."—Ps. xciii. 3."Where's the dad, girls?" shouted Joe Blain early in the morning, after the events recorded in the previous chapter, dashing into the room as he yelled."Here!" came a voice from the back verandah. Running to the spot indicated by the monosyllable, the lad in breathless accents delivered himself to his paternal relative in this fashion—"Please, dad, can Tom, Billy, Jimmy, and I have the boat to paddle out on the back-water?""Um—er—well, as long as you keep in the slack water I suppose you may; but be very careful, my boy.""Yes, dad; we'll be careful enough. It's all slack water you know, 'cept where the river water comes in; but that's a long way up, an' we'll be paddlin' mostly about this end of the slack."An explanation is needed here in order that the reader may intelligently follow the course of events (some of them dramatic enough, and even tragic) which transpired in the course of this eventful cruise.It has already been stated that the flood waters so surrounded Tareela as to convert the township into an island. It was so practically. Accurately speaking it formed a peninsula, with the narrowest of necks. On the river side there was a broad expanse of boiling, foaming, hurrying waters, narrowing here and there, where the banks rose above their usual height, but stretching far and wide where the river-flats intervened; sometimes touching the horizon, as it were. On the other side lay a body of water, as far removed from motion as the tumultuous stream was instinct with it. There it lay, a wide extent of placid, coffee-coloured water, broken at its surface by fence tops, belts of trees, and partially submerged houses. This great stretch was almost currentless, and the débris that floated on its bosom appeared stationary; though, as a matter of fact, there was a slight outward drift.The secret of its placidity lay in the fact that the river waters, when they reached a certain height, backed up a blind gully that ran almost parallel with the stream for some distance, then swerved from the river, and widened out till it became a depression of considerable magnitude. This, in turn, merged into a swamp, contiguous to the township on its western side. Low-lying and occupied lands surrounded the swamp for some distance. The town end of these flats, which the river water backing up through the gully had submerged, making a long reach of stagnant waters, formed the area of the boys' row.The minister's boat was a light yet staunchly built vessel, and belonged to the skiff variety. Her capabilities were to be put to the utmost test. Several of the town boats were moving on the face of the still waters, their occupants busily engaged in capturing the flotsam. The owners of houses, in particular, were anxiously conning their submerged property, or gathering together floating domestic articles. In this way a good deal of house property was recovered.The boys found enjoyment in the novelty of the cruise. They pulled two oars, taking turns at the rowing. Of the non-rowers, one acted as steersman and the other as bowman for the capture of the flood spoils. Several melons and pumpkins were picked up, but they were not troubling about these. For one reason, they did not want to be encumbered with spoil of that kind, and for another they were keen on pulling about the flooded houses. Their chief and most interesting rescue was a cat and two kittens, which had found an ark of refuge on a barn door."I say, boys, we'll have a go at these oranges," said Joe, who was steering, as they were passing a small orangery which was half submerged. This proposal received hearty and unanimous assent. Accordingly Joe selected the most promising tree, and deftly ran alongside its outer branches."Look out for snakes!" cried he.There was abundant cause for warning, for each tree contained a number of serpents, some of which are very deadly. These reptiles were flooded out of their holes in the ground, and from hollow logs and stumps, and made for the trees or any floating timber that offered refuge. Fortunately the snakes were more or less benumbed with the cold, consequently they were the reverse of lively. Had it been otherwise, to have made fast to the tree would have been foolhardy to a degree.Agreeably to Joe's warning, every eye was skinned and on the look out. Indeed, the tree was fairly swarming with snakes of many sorts and sizes; though for the most part they consisted of "tree" and "carpet" varieties; one of the latter, lying across the top, being fully ten feet in length. These two mentioned varieties are not venomous. The farmers, for the most part, look with a friendly eye upon the carpet species; so called by reason of its tawny and black markings. The carpet snake in summer time is the best of all mousers and ratters. It winds its sinuous way into places impossible to even puss or terrier; and is always a welcome visitor to settlers' barns. There it becomes a pet, and will live on terms of friendship with its primal foe.There were snakes of a very different order in the orange tree. Among them the "tiger," most aggressive and poisonous of all the genus. There were also specimens of the black and the brown snakes. All these are cobras, and therefore very deadly.The snakes, as related, were all more or less torpid with cold, and not pugnaciously inclined. The boys, however, were very careful not to disturb them. There was plenty of golden fruit upon the tree, and it was in prime condition. The fruit was neatly cut off the stems by strokes of the paddle blade. When a sufficient quantity was thus plucked, and lay bobbing in the water, they were poked out from the tree by the same means, and secured. The boat lay off a little distance from the tree while the crew indulged in a feed of the luscious fruit. A visit was then paid to a plantain grove, and a quantity, both of green and ripe fruit, was secured."Where away now, Joe?" said Tom Hawkins, who was crouched in the bow."I vote," replied the one addressed, who in this, as in everything else, was leader of the band,—"I vote we pull up opposite Commodore Hill and have a look at the river." The boy forgot for the moment the promise made to his father to keep mainly about the town end of the back-water.Commodore Hill was well up the river, and on the other side. The flooded gully by which the water obtained entrance, it has been explained, ran parallel with the river for some distance; in some places being not more than a few yards therefrom. The boys were curious to see the river stretch above the Bend; also to note the numbers of flooded-out settlers who might be camped in that vicinity. Accordingly the boat's bow is turned, and her course shaped in that direction. By this time the river had fallen several feet, and, as a consequence, there was an outward drift of the slack waters, making a gentle current."'Member, Joe, what your dad said about takin' the boat into the stream.""Think I've forgot, stupid!""Thought I'd remind you, anyhow," replied the bowman. As a matter of fact, Tom had an uneasy feeling that his mate would not be content when they got to the mouth to remain there without having a dash at the stream."Listen to me; I ain't goin' to run any risks. We won't go to the mouth entrance. What we'll do is this: work up to the swamp end, have a look round, and come back again."With this defined object in view the boat continued its voyage, helped by the current, which, the farther up they proceeded, became stronger, as was to be expected.But one thing had happened of which the boys were in entire ignorance. And this particular happening was to produce startling and unexpected effects. At a certain spot in the gully, and at a point where it began to deviate from the general stream, there was a branch gully, which bore inwards to within a few yards of the river's brink. When the water was at its highest in the river, that in the lagoon was much higher at this point, inasmuch as the back-water was at the same level as at the entrance, some two miles higher up; the difference in height being the river's fall in that distance. Roughly speaking, the water there was about ten feet higher than that in the river.The rush of the stream on the river side had caused the bank to give way about this point during the night, and the lagoon, or back-waters, forced themselves into the river through the new channel, which widened considerably as a consequence. On nearing this place the boys became conscious of a quickening of the current."My golly, Joe! this big current," said Yellow Billy, who, with Jimmy, was at the oars. "Must be goin' twenty mile.""Twenty mile! you goose. We're goin' six or seven and that's mighty fast.""I say, Joe," called Jimmy a second later, the boys having ceased rowing, for there was no further need, "bes' run her ashore, or we'll be carried out. By gosh, she's tearing away!""All right, mates, keep cool. There's the old mahogany ahead, we'll tie up there; we'll be there in a minute."Yes, the boys would need all their coolness, for Joe was reckoning without up-to-date knowledge, and that made all the difference in the world. Rounding a clump of trees at this moment, or ever they were aware the boat fairly sucked into the channel of furiously rushing and tumultuously heaping waters that were finding their level by the newly made short-cut."Oh! oh! I—I say!" shouted Tom. "We're being swept into the river! Back water!"Joe, quicker than the others, had hit the situation, and turned the boat's nose to a clump of bushes, but before the rowers could pick up their oars to help him the boat had swept past. Tom, it is true, made a frantic grasp at the bough, but the way on the boat was so strong that the branch, when the full force of the current bore on her at her momentary check, snapped like a pipe-stem, and the little craft was fair in the turgid stream, which had now the velocity of a water-race. The incident of the half-arrest, however, had turned her head up-stream, which was a providential thing. The river break-away was at most three hundred yards away. To turn the boat into the perpendicular sides of the channel was to court destruction; for, be it said, the maddened waters had excavated the banks until they rose sheer from the water's edge.The necessities of the case came like an inspiration to Joe. The boat was drifting, as we have said, stern first, the advantage of which will be seen. Save Joe, whom the sense of responsibility braced to immediate action, the boys were speechless with consternation. One look at their blanched faces was sufficient. They were certainly alive to the dangers of the situation."Pull, boys! pull with all your might! We'll keep her head up. This'll check her speed a bit. It'll give her steerage way too, and save her gettin' broadside on."The pullers put every ounce of strength into their strokes, and this was very helpful. The final rush into the cross-current was a most critical moment, and might easily have resulted in disaster. This was averted only by Joe's coolness and dexterity."Oars out!" cried he as the boat swept into the angry and turbulent river. Save for shipping some water, and drenching the crew with spray, the little craft weathered the river plunge. An involuntary "Oh!" came from the boys as the boat shot the rapids and soused into the river. Immediately she came under the influence of two currents; that going outward from the chute, and the swift down-river stream.This effect was to take them instantly well out toward the centre of the flood, with a strong drift which carried the boat into the vicinity of the Bend. The river bend gave the current a direction which set across to the other side. This diagonal movement was accelerated by the chute waters, which retained their impetus, in a measure, for a considerable distance.Downward then, and cross-wise to the northern bank, the frail craft sped, the sport and play of the watery element. Dangers stood, or rather, drifted thick around the adventurers. Picture for a moment a tiny vessel, some fifteen feet over all, whose timbers are of the proverbial egg-shell thickness, shot into an angry, bubbling cauldron, whose tumultuous waters heaved and swirled, hissed and roared, in inarticulate sound and motion.That, in itself, were an experience of sufficient magnitude to quicken the blood, test the nerves, and try the courage of the hardiest waterman. Add to the perils of that situation a thousand floating dangers, any one of which might crush that tiny, drifting cockle-shell out of existence, and you have the position which faced and surrounded the affrighted lads on the demon-ridden waters.CHAPTER VIITHE DEATH OF THE FOREST MONARCH
"Hawkins, stand out!"
"Please, sir, I wasn't doin' nothin'!"
"No, you wasn't doin' nothin', but you have been talking all morning, you tiresome boy! Write out 'disobedient' three hundred times after school."
The fact is, Tom was relating the bushranging episode to a schoolmate, and, like Tom Sawyer, he "laid over" considerably in his recital. While in the act of enlarging he was brought to book in this peremptory fashion by the master, and had to do penance with as little relish as most boys.
"Sorry you can't come out and play, Tom," said Joe Blain, poking his head into the empty schoolhouse after dismissal.
"It's a beastly shame! What are you fellows up to?"
"Goin' to practise for the Dingdongla match. After that we'll have a swim."
"Oh, rot it!" grunted the chagrined prisoner.
"Say, Tom, don't forget to come along to-night an' help pick the team."
"I'll be there, never fret."
"Well, so-long. Wire in, and keep your pecker up."
Dingdongla was an up-river settlement; Tareela a down-river town. The latter named was the older and more substantial place, being the headquarters of the shipping. As a consequence it was instinct with the superior air generally to be met with in places of metropolitan pretensions. In schools, too, the down-river town had the advantage. Its school building was of sawn timber, with a shingle roof. Furthermore, it possessed two teachers, and pine desks. While, on the other hand, the up-river academy was constructed of roughly adzed slabs and a bark roof.
For the Dingdonglas to be thrashed in cricket by the Tareelians was not considered to be a disgrace.Per contra, their victory was a splendid achievement, and a great humiliation to their opponents. The latter was fairly beaten by the former last season, and naught would restore their prestige save the administration of an unmitigated licking. So, at least, thought the match Committee, as they conned names, and analysed the merits of the candidates on the name list.
Needless to say, Joe, Tom, and Sandy headed the list of certainties. Yellow Billy came next; for though a very irregular attendant at school, he was a tremendous swiper when he got his eye in. Billy had dragged more than one match out of the fire.
Saturday morning broke fair. Shortly after an early breakfast a cavalcade of about twenty youthful horsemen, followed by two teachers in a gig, were scampering along the bush road to Dingdongla, distant about nine miles up the river. Oh, the merry, merry days of youth! Those are the days of the superlative mood.
It was a merry, roaring, romping, racing crowd of youngsters that tore along the bush track. They jumped fallen timber and gullies; chased the flying marsupial; and spurted in couples for short lengths. There were minor accidents, 'tis true. Pincher Putnan's horse, in a fit of pig-jumping, broke a girth, sending Pincher and saddle to mother earth. Yellow Billy's half-broken brumby fairly bolted in a race, cleared off the road, and rushed through a belt of timber at breakneck speed, towards his native haunts in the Nulla ranges. It was only the superb horsemanship of the half-caste that saved him from being dashed against the trees in the headlong flight.
In due time Dingdongla is reached. The horses are turned out in a maize stubble paddock, where is a fine picking, and the boys stroll on to the ground to have a look at the pitch.
"Whatyer think of the pitch, Joe?"
"You'll have to keep your eye skinned for shooters Rody. The ball'll keep very low. Must keep a straight bat and forward play."
The stumps, like much of the material, were home-made. The Dingdonglas had only one "spring handle"; the others were chopped out of beech boards. The Tareelians were not much better off for material. They, it is true, had two "spring handles,"—more or less battered,—and could boast a pair of wicket gloves, but for the rest were like their opponents, sans leggings and gloves. That, however, was a small item; for every boy who possessed boots doffed them, rolling his trouser legs to the knees and his shirt sleeves to the elbows.
"Got all your men, Wilson?" said Joe to the Dingdonglas' captain.
"Yes, they're all here. May as well toss for innin's, Joe."
"Right you are," responds Joe, ejecting a jet of saliva on a piece of flat wood. "Shall I toss, or you?"
"You toss, Joe."
"Call you!" cried Blain, tossing the board with a twirl skywards. "Wet or dry?"
"Wet!" called Wilson, as the wood spun in the air.
"Dry!" exclaimed Joe, as it lay on the ground with its dry side uppermost. "We've won, and go in."
"Tom," said he a moment later, "you and Yellow Billy go in first, an' you take the strike."
The batsmen were soon in their places, and the Dingdongs in the field. The innings opened fairly well for the Tareelians. Yellow Billy got quickly to work, and laid on the wood to some purpose; Tom playing carefully the while.
Facing the Dingdonglas' swift bowler, after a smart short-hit run Billy sent a well-pitched ball for four, a rattling, straight-hit drive. But in trying to repeat the stroke off the next ball he misjudged, and, skying the sphere, was easily caught.
"One wicket for twenty!" of which the half-caste contributed fifteen.
After this the troubles of the batsmen set in. The Dingdongs were strong in bowling talent, and possessed a local Spofforth, whose lightning deliveries shot and kicked in a marvellous fashion. Joe, going in fifth man, stayed the "rot" for a while, but was foolishly run out by his mate.
The Tareelians were all out in an hour for the small total of forty-seven. If the down-river boys were despondent over this score, the up-rivers were correspondingly jubilant. Going to the wickets with plenty of confidence, they rattled up ninety-nine before the last wicket fell; the captain carrying out his bat for a well-earned forty-two.
Adjournment for lunch was now made. We call it lunch by courtesy. It was a big bush feed. This repast was served in the schoolhouse, the rough desks being converted into tables, which were literally covered with good things.
The Dingdonglas' mothers were determined that, whoever won, the boys of both sides should have a rippin' feed. A stuffed sucking-pig, whose savoury odour filled the room, lay at one end. Roast wild duck and a cold pigeon-pie balanced it at the other. An immense round of spiced beef, standing in the centre of the long table, seemed to say: "You may cut and come again." Potatoes and pumpkins smoked in big tin bowls, and all the available space was filled with cakes, puddings, and pies. Needless to say, the onslaught was terrific. They were all sloggers at tuck. Meats, puddings, cakes, tea, and ginger-beer disappeared like magic.
All good things mundane, however, come to an end; especially when the good thing happens to be a dinner. And now, after divers whisperings and nudgings, up stood Captain Joe, amid the cheers of his side.
Joe was silent a moment, nervously looking up and down the board, and heartily wishing himself at the bottom of the deep blue sea. "Mr. Chairman" (addressing the local schoolmaster), "I—we—that is—us fellows from Tareela asked me to tell you—I mean to say, that—that—that—a—it gives us much pleasure—er—er—oh, hang it all!—I—I mean—er—this is the jolliest blow in the way of tuck we've ever had." Joe subsided to the rattle of the knives on the bare board. As soon as the noise ceased, Tom Hawkins jumped up and called: "Three cheers for the Dingdonglas!" which were heartily given.
Half an hour's lounge, and the battle began afresh.
"We've got fifty-two to wipe out before we start even, boys. We can do it, and score plenty more to win the game, if we keep our heads. Anyway, we must have a big try. Billy an' I'll go in first; Tom next, and then Pincher. The order of the rest of you depends on the way things turn out."
"Look here, Billy," continued the captain, as the two batsmen walked to the wickets. "They've got two slashing bowlers, but if we can manage to knock 'em out they've no one else of much account. Get your eye well in before you do any slogging."
"All right, Joe! Do me best."
"Your best means steady play and a big score. I'll take the strike."
If Joe was nervous in public speech it was not observable in action. He played Ginger Smith's fast deliveries with confidence, punishing the loose balls and blocking the straight ones. Billy, too, was playing with unwonted caution, and the score, though slowly, was surely mounting up; until after half an hour's play it stood at twenty-five, with no wickets down. There were no boundaries, and every hit was run out.
"Oh, glory, what a swipe!"
Yellow Billy had got hold of one of Ginger's leg balls with a mighty lunge. The ball seemed as if it would go on for ever, and finally rolled into a gutter. They ran six for it.
There was great cheering among the Tareelians. Mr. Simpson, who umpired, forgot for a moment his impartial office. Flinging his hat into the air, he cried, "Bravo, Billy!"
"Thirty-one an' none out. Only twenty-one to get level!"
The boys were now scoring faster; singles, twos, threes were coming with great rapidity. Joe made his first four, a sweet, square cut.
"Forty-nine an' no wickets down!"
Joe faced the new bowler. The local demon had begun to bowl wildly, and was relieved.
"They'll never bowl them!" cried young Ben Wilde, as Joe took block for the new-comer—a lad with a reputation for slow left-hand twisters. The first ball was pitched on the leg stump; just the ball for Joe's favourite leg glance.
It went for two.
"Only one to make us even!" shouted Tom to his captain. The second ball was pitched in exactly the same spot, and Joe proceeded to treat it in the same fashion. The sphere, however, had a little more twist on it than its predecessor, and, breaking on to the left bail, flicked it off.
There was a great chorus of disappointment among the Tareelians, and hearty cheers from their opponents, as the captain's wicket fell. His twenty-one, got by true cricket, was worth twice that number by reason of the spirit of confidence he had infused.
Billy and Tom carried the score to seventy-three, when the latter was caught for ten. Pincher fell a victim to a very simple ball from an under-hand lob bowler, after making seven. Sandy gave the bowlers some trouble, and got into double figures before he retired. All this while Billy was scoring well, and, when Sandy's wicket fell, had made fifty runs. All the boys scored less or more; and when the innings closed had compiled a total of one hundred and thirty-seven, of which Billy made seventy-one and not out. This was a grand achievement, and the half-caste was carried off the ground amid great applause.
This left the Dingdongs eighty-six runs to win, which they failed to do by seventeen runs, Sleepy Sam stumping no less than three off young Ben's slow lobs.
There was great cheering as the victorious cricketers rode in the dusk of the evening through the main street of Tareela, after a grand day's fun.
CHAPTER V
THE BIG FLOOD
"The day is cold and dark and dreary;It rains, and the wind is never weary;The vine still clings to the mouldering wall;But at every gust the dead leaves fall,And the day is dark and dreary."LONGFELLOW.
"The day is cold and dark and dreary;It rains, and the wind is never weary;The vine still clings to the mouldering wall;But at every gust the dead leaves fall,And the day is dark and dreary."LONGFELLOW.
"The day is cold and dark and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall;
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary."LONGFELLOW.
And the day is dark and dreary."
LONGFELLOW.
LONGFELLOW.
Drip, drip, drip!
Croak, croak, c-r-o-a-k!
Quack-quack, quack-quack!
"Heigho!" grunted Tom Hawkins, as he turned over sleepily in bed. "Is it ever goin' to stop rainin'?"
For some days a steady rain had been falling, soaking the ground. Every gully was a rivulet, and every depression a lake.
"Tom!" cried a feminine voice from an interior room. "Get up!"
"Bother those frogs an' ducks!" muttered the lad, full of sleep in the grey of the early morning. "Like ter choke 'em! waking fler——"
"Tom!" cried a masculine voice, as a hand rattled the door of the lad's bedroom, and a boot gave a drum-like accompaniment on the lower panel. "Git up this minit an' run the cows in, or I'll——"
But Tom had jumped out of bed as nimbly as one of the frogs, between whose croak and his father's bass voice he seemed unable, in his sleepy condition, to discriminate.
"All right, father! I'm dressing," shouted Tom, as the word "dowsing" fell on his ear. There had been times in master Tom's past when a sudden application of cold water was deemed necessary to expedite his slow movements.
"Dad's too mighty smart! Thought I'd nick him with that button," growled Tom, as he stuck his legs into his pants; said button being an iron tee snip, fastened so as to act as a bolt.
"Jemima! ain't it dark! Must be very early," muttered the reluctant boy, as he strove to lace his boots. "Drat it! Shan't wear 'em; too wet."
"My crikey!" cried he as he stood outside. "Must have been rainin' cats an' dogs, an' lakes an' seas."
His moleskins were rolled up to his thighs, while a cornsack, hooded at the bottom, and stuck on to his head like a nun's veil, gave him fair protection from the driving showers.
"I wonder if it's goin' to be a flood?" The thought was not unpleasant to the lad. It produced, indeed, a certain exaltation of spirits, forcibly expressed in Tom's vernacular by, "Ge-willikins! but won't we have fun!"
Heavily laden clouds, in interminable succession, were drifting from the sea, forming, as they swung overhead in batches, an endless series of smart showers. It had been an exceptionally wet week, and for the preceding twenty-four hours had rained without ceasing.
The cows depastured in a paddock that ran back from a creek to the timbered country. The creek itself was bank high and running strongly. It was only by climbing along the branches of a dead limb, which spanned the water, that Tom managed to reach the kine.
It was no small task to get them to face the stream. Small as was the creek in width, it was deep enough to make a swim, and the roaring, turbid, and muddy stream frightened the creatures. But for the fact that the calves were in a pen at the milking yard all Tom's efforts would have been futile. Their mooing and baaing, however, made a loud appeal to the maternal breast. Finally, when the old red poley, the mother of twins, made a plunge, the rest followed.
During the morning the river rose steadily, and large quantities of drift-wood passed down the stream. With the rubbish was a good deal of heavy timber, and—what Tom had predicted—pumpkins. This was an indication that the river up-stream had overflowed its banks in places, and was sweeping the low-lying farm lands. Tom spent the morning in fishing out the floating vegetables that came within reach of his hooked pole. Meanwhile the rain continued, and looked as though it might last for forty days and nights.
"I'll pull over to the township this afternoon," remarked Mr. Hawkins at the midday meal. "I'm anxious about this rise. Looks as if we're goin' to have an old man flood. Might get some information about the state of things up-river. If I leave it till to-morrow 'twill be a tough job gettin' acrost, as the timber's comin' down pretty thick now, an'll be worse by an' by."
"Be sure'n bring tea and flour back with you. No knowing how long the rise'll last."
"Can I go with you, father?"
"Yes; I'll require you to steer. It'll be a pretty stiff job, I reckon."
The crossing was not without peril. The current ran fierce and strong. The landing-place on the other side was protected, in a measure, by a headland up-stream. Out from the influence of that, however, the boatmen felt the full force of the current. The water seethed and foamed. The violence of its rush created great whirlpools, which accentuated the difficulty of keeping the boat's head up-stream. Logs and driftwood patches had to be dodged, and, what with fighting the current and outflanking the timber, by the time the river was crossed the boat had drifted quite half a mile down-stream. On gaining the other side they found a shore eddy, in which they were able to paddle up-stream with ease, until they came to a point of land about two hundred yards below the town wharf. As they lost the eddy here, and would have to encounter the full force of the flood when round the point, Mr. Hawkins wisely determined to tie up the boat in the slack water.
When Hawkins arrived at the store, where many of the townsfolk had congregated, he was informed that news had been brought down by the mailman that morning to the effect that heavy rains were falling at the head of the river, and that when the New England waters came down in full force the river might rise to the "high flood" marks.
Cooees could now be heard from the settlers in the low-lying portions, adjacent to the township. They proceeded from those who had neglected to move before being surrounded, and who were without boats. The police were busily engaged in rescuing families by boat. Many townsfolk were engaged on the same merciful errand.
All through the day the waters, fed by the flooded creeks, continued to rise, and as evening approached anxiety deepened. Things were so serious that Mr. Hawkins, whose farm, be it said, was situated on comparatively low-lying lands, acting upon the advice of his friends, returned home almost at once. After hoisting the most valuable of his possessions to the rafters, and securing them there, he returned to the township with his family; gaining it as dusk was deepening into dark. The family was distributed among neighbours, Tom and one of his sisters being quartered at Mr. Blain's.
A group of men and boys throughout the day had lined the bank of the river, in the vicinity of the Government wharf, which was submerged. They were engaged in gauging its rate of advance by pine laths scaled to inches.
Towards evening the wind, veering from east to south-east, increased in violence. Laden with torrential showers, it smote the earth in great gusts, streaming through roofs and walls, and taxing the ingenuity of housekeepers to find dry spots for beds.
The wind and flood waters, travelling in opposite directions, conflicted with great violence. The roaring, boastful wind, as it lashed the racing, defiant waters into angry waves, and the universe-filling sounds of the seething, surging flood-waters, as they wrestled with and overbore all opposing forces, made storm music, compared with which the artifices of man touch the infinitely puny. Darkness and the blinding rain had driven most of the river watchers indoors. A few, however, braved the elements, among them the minister and the lads.
Whatever effect the flood may have had on others, the dominant feeling in Mr. Blain's mind was that of solicitude. As the rain continued, deep concern merged into alarm. There were few on the river who knew as intimately as he the general havoc of a flood. The executive head of the Flood-relief Committee for many years, he had been the chief instrument in administering doles to flood victims. In many cases the utmost relief was as a drop of succour in the ocean of need.
"If the rise continues for another twenty-four hours, as it is doing now, it will beat the 'sixty-four flood, and, if so, God help our down-river friends," remarked the minister after examining Joe's gauge by the aid of a lantern.
The '64 flood was the highest known to white men up to the present. The settlers still retained a vivid recollection of its disastrous effects. Luckily, the township covered a piece of high ground, and though the low parts were covered in a moderate flood, the higher portions were some feet above the highest flood-mark. It was in the farming settlements that danger lurked.
"If this yere flood beats 'sixty-four, it'll be as you say, Parson; good-bye to many up-river an' down-river folk."
Mr. Blain's words had impressed both men and boys. Suddenly Joe, who was in the midst of the group, sang out lustily—
"Hurrah! wind's changed!"
"What's that?" shouted back Mr. Blain excitedly.
"Don't you feel it?" cried the boy, as he swung his arms windmill fashion.
"Yes; thank God! The lad's right," continued he. "The wind's chopping. Don't you feel it, men? Ah! there's a decided puff from the north-east."
"Take my word for it," said the ferryman, an old sailor, "the wind'll be blowing west afore morning."
"Pray God it may!" ejaculated the minister, and many a silent prayer was uttered.
"Now, boys, let us return home. We can do no good standing here. We'll come back in an hour or so."
"Listen!" exclaimed Tom, as the boys splashed through the water on their way home. Laying his hand on Joe's shoulder, he cried, "Do you hear that?"
"Don't hear anything but the roar of the river," replied Joe, as he stood in a listening attitude. "What was it?"
"Hark! there it is again. A cooee. Seems to come from up the river, near the Bend. Some un's in trouble."
"Now, boys, make haste and get in out of the rain," cried Mr. Blain, who had hurried along.
"Some one's crying out for help at the Bend," shouted Joe.
The minister paused on hearing this. A moment later the cry came out of the night: faint, because of the distance and the turmoil of sounds, yet clear and convincing.
"Great God! some poor soul in dire straits, and no help possible before morning!"
It would have been worse than madness to attempt any rescue till daylight. To traverse the flood, even in daytime, anywhere near the Bend, were a hazardous experiment, owing to the enormous vortices caused by the current striking a high bluff on the near side, at the elbow. The waters whirled like a merry-go-round under full steam, and boiled with an upward heave, in a fashion similar to the mud springs of Tiketere. None but the stoutest boat and most experienced rowers could dodge these seething cauldrons, which caught into their cold and cruel embrace trees, fencing, stock; anything material, in fact. The heaviest logs and tree-lengths were as wisps of straw under the influence of the mighty suction. To attempt the traverse at night were as foolhardy and impossible as that of shooting Niagara in an open boat.
A little group stood with the Blains, listening to the weird cry.
"Who d'yer think it c'd be, sir?" said one of the men, turning to the minister.
"Not any of the Bend families. We had word this afternoon saying that they had retreated to the high land before the waters reached them. God help the poor soul, whoever it is, for vain is the help of man!"
Throughout the live-long night the cry went up at intervals, like that of the minute-gun of a distressed vessel. Shortly before daybreak it ceased.
No man or woman in the township slept that night. A strict watch was kept on the river, so as to be ready for any emergency. The waters continued to advance, but at a much slower rate. Men and women cudgelled their brains to individualise the wailing cry. Most were agreed that it was a woman's cry, though some held it to be that of a child. Sometimes the voice was ghoulish, and made the flesh to creep and the heart to flutter. Then an intensely human note would prevail, full of anguish and terror, and women wept and stopped their ears, while strong men choked in the throat.
They would go out at intervals and send back a heartening cry; it was all that could be done. There were many others throughout that fearful night who were engulfed in the flood, in various parts of the river, and, swan-like, wailed their death-song in the wild waste.
Shortly after midnight the rain ceased, and the wind, which had been chopping and changing for the past few hours, settled finally in the west. This proved a conspicuous advantage. It no longer checked the flood-waters as when in the east, and there was now good hope that they would recede ere long, as the rise was almost imperceptible.
[image]"Suddenly the Forest Monarch topples, lurches, staggers and falls with mighty crash."—See p.43.
[image]
[image]
"Suddenly the Forest Monarch topples, lurches, staggers and falls with mighty crash."—See p.43.
When day had dawned a wild, weird scene was revealed. The town had become an island. On all sides the flood-waters stretched out, covering gardens and farms, and completely blotting out the fair landscape. On the riverside the turgid stream tore along in its hurry, bearing on its dirty, foam-crested bosom, as its spoils, the household gods, farm stock, and produce of many a settler. Horses, cattle, pigs, goats, dogs, fowls: these, swept off by the encroaching waters, and carried over fences into the stream, struggled, vainly for the most part, in the rapid, death-dealing current. Haystacks, barns, wood-frame buildings intact, floated in the torrential waters, sooner or later crashing into the great trees that bore down-stream, making utter shipwreck.
CHAPTER VI
ON THE FACE OF THE WATERS
"The floods have lifted up, O Lord, the floods have lifted up their voice; the floods lift up their waves."—Ps. xciii. 3.
"Where's the dad, girls?" shouted Joe Blain early in the morning, after the events recorded in the previous chapter, dashing into the room as he yelled.
"Here!" came a voice from the back verandah. Running to the spot indicated by the monosyllable, the lad in breathless accents delivered himself to his paternal relative in this fashion—
"Please, dad, can Tom, Billy, Jimmy, and I have the boat to paddle out on the back-water?"
"Um—er—well, as long as you keep in the slack water I suppose you may; but be very careful, my boy."
"Yes, dad; we'll be careful enough. It's all slack water you know, 'cept where the river water comes in; but that's a long way up, an' we'll be paddlin' mostly about this end of the slack."
An explanation is needed here in order that the reader may intelligently follow the course of events (some of them dramatic enough, and even tragic) which transpired in the course of this eventful cruise.
It has already been stated that the flood waters so surrounded Tareela as to convert the township into an island. It was so practically. Accurately speaking it formed a peninsula, with the narrowest of necks. On the river side there was a broad expanse of boiling, foaming, hurrying waters, narrowing here and there, where the banks rose above their usual height, but stretching far and wide where the river-flats intervened; sometimes touching the horizon, as it were. On the other side lay a body of water, as far removed from motion as the tumultuous stream was instinct with it. There it lay, a wide extent of placid, coffee-coloured water, broken at its surface by fence tops, belts of trees, and partially submerged houses. This great stretch was almost currentless, and the débris that floated on its bosom appeared stationary; though, as a matter of fact, there was a slight outward drift.
The secret of its placidity lay in the fact that the river waters, when they reached a certain height, backed up a blind gully that ran almost parallel with the stream for some distance, then swerved from the river, and widened out till it became a depression of considerable magnitude. This, in turn, merged into a swamp, contiguous to the township on its western side. Low-lying and occupied lands surrounded the swamp for some distance. The town end of these flats, which the river water backing up through the gully had submerged, making a long reach of stagnant waters, formed the area of the boys' row.
The minister's boat was a light yet staunchly built vessel, and belonged to the skiff variety. Her capabilities were to be put to the utmost test. Several of the town boats were moving on the face of the still waters, their occupants busily engaged in capturing the flotsam. The owners of houses, in particular, were anxiously conning their submerged property, or gathering together floating domestic articles. In this way a good deal of house property was recovered.
The boys found enjoyment in the novelty of the cruise. They pulled two oars, taking turns at the rowing. Of the non-rowers, one acted as steersman and the other as bowman for the capture of the flood spoils. Several melons and pumpkins were picked up, but they were not troubling about these. For one reason, they did not want to be encumbered with spoil of that kind, and for another they were keen on pulling about the flooded houses. Their chief and most interesting rescue was a cat and two kittens, which had found an ark of refuge on a barn door.
"I say, boys, we'll have a go at these oranges," said Joe, who was steering, as they were passing a small orangery which was half submerged. This proposal received hearty and unanimous assent. Accordingly Joe selected the most promising tree, and deftly ran alongside its outer branches.
"Look out for snakes!" cried he.
There was abundant cause for warning, for each tree contained a number of serpents, some of which are very deadly. These reptiles were flooded out of their holes in the ground, and from hollow logs and stumps, and made for the trees or any floating timber that offered refuge. Fortunately the snakes were more or less benumbed with the cold, consequently they were the reverse of lively. Had it been otherwise, to have made fast to the tree would have been foolhardy to a degree.
Agreeably to Joe's warning, every eye was skinned and on the look out. Indeed, the tree was fairly swarming with snakes of many sorts and sizes; though for the most part they consisted of "tree" and "carpet" varieties; one of the latter, lying across the top, being fully ten feet in length. These two mentioned varieties are not venomous. The farmers, for the most part, look with a friendly eye upon the carpet species; so called by reason of its tawny and black markings. The carpet snake in summer time is the best of all mousers and ratters. It winds its sinuous way into places impossible to even puss or terrier; and is always a welcome visitor to settlers' barns. There it becomes a pet, and will live on terms of friendship with its primal foe.
There were snakes of a very different order in the orange tree. Among them the "tiger," most aggressive and poisonous of all the genus. There were also specimens of the black and the brown snakes. All these are cobras, and therefore very deadly.
The snakes, as related, were all more or less torpid with cold, and not pugnaciously inclined. The boys, however, were very careful not to disturb them. There was plenty of golden fruit upon the tree, and it was in prime condition. The fruit was neatly cut off the stems by strokes of the paddle blade. When a sufficient quantity was thus plucked, and lay bobbing in the water, they were poked out from the tree by the same means, and secured. The boat lay off a little distance from the tree while the crew indulged in a feed of the luscious fruit. A visit was then paid to a plantain grove, and a quantity, both of green and ripe fruit, was secured.
"Where away now, Joe?" said Tom Hawkins, who was crouched in the bow.
"I vote," replied the one addressed, who in this, as in everything else, was leader of the band,—"I vote we pull up opposite Commodore Hill and have a look at the river." The boy forgot for the moment the promise made to his father to keep mainly about the town end of the back-water.
Commodore Hill was well up the river, and on the other side. The flooded gully by which the water obtained entrance, it has been explained, ran parallel with the river for some distance; in some places being not more than a few yards therefrom. The boys were curious to see the river stretch above the Bend; also to note the numbers of flooded-out settlers who might be camped in that vicinity. Accordingly the boat's bow is turned, and her course shaped in that direction. By this time the river had fallen several feet, and, as a consequence, there was an outward drift of the slack waters, making a gentle current.
"'Member, Joe, what your dad said about takin' the boat into the stream."
"Think I've forgot, stupid!"
"Thought I'd remind you, anyhow," replied the bowman. As a matter of fact, Tom had an uneasy feeling that his mate would not be content when they got to the mouth to remain there without having a dash at the stream.
"Listen to me; I ain't goin' to run any risks. We won't go to the mouth entrance. What we'll do is this: work up to the swamp end, have a look round, and come back again."
With this defined object in view the boat continued its voyage, helped by the current, which, the farther up they proceeded, became stronger, as was to be expected.
But one thing had happened of which the boys were in entire ignorance. And this particular happening was to produce startling and unexpected effects. At a certain spot in the gully, and at a point where it began to deviate from the general stream, there was a branch gully, which bore inwards to within a few yards of the river's brink. When the water was at its highest in the river, that in the lagoon was much higher at this point, inasmuch as the back-water was at the same level as at the entrance, some two miles higher up; the difference in height being the river's fall in that distance. Roughly speaking, the water there was about ten feet higher than that in the river.
The rush of the stream on the river side had caused the bank to give way about this point during the night, and the lagoon, or back-waters, forced themselves into the river through the new channel, which widened considerably as a consequence. On nearing this place the boys became conscious of a quickening of the current.
"My golly, Joe! this big current," said Yellow Billy, who, with Jimmy, was at the oars. "Must be goin' twenty mile."
"Twenty mile! you goose. We're goin' six or seven and that's mighty fast."
"I say, Joe," called Jimmy a second later, the boys having ceased rowing, for there was no further need, "bes' run her ashore, or we'll be carried out. By gosh, she's tearing away!"
"All right, mates, keep cool. There's the old mahogany ahead, we'll tie up there; we'll be there in a minute."
Yes, the boys would need all their coolness, for Joe was reckoning without up-to-date knowledge, and that made all the difference in the world. Rounding a clump of trees at this moment, or ever they were aware the boat fairly sucked into the channel of furiously rushing and tumultuously heaping waters that were finding their level by the newly made short-cut.
"Oh! oh! I—I say!" shouted Tom. "We're being swept into the river! Back water!"
Joe, quicker than the others, had hit the situation, and turned the boat's nose to a clump of bushes, but before the rowers could pick up their oars to help him the boat had swept past. Tom, it is true, made a frantic grasp at the bough, but the way on the boat was so strong that the branch, when the full force of the current bore on her at her momentary check, snapped like a pipe-stem, and the little craft was fair in the turgid stream, which had now the velocity of a water-race. The incident of the half-arrest, however, had turned her head up-stream, which was a providential thing. The river break-away was at most three hundred yards away. To turn the boat into the perpendicular sides of the channel was to court destruction; for, be it said, the maddened waters had excavated the banks until they rose sheer from the water's edge.
The necessities of the case came like an inspiration to Joe. The boat was drifting, as we have said, stern first, the advantage of which will be seen. Save Joe, whom the sense of responsibility braced to immediate action, the boys were speechless with consternation. One look at their blanched faces was sufficient. They were certainly alive to the dangers of the situation.
"Pull, boys! pull with all your might! We'll keep her head up. This'll check her speed a bit. It'll give her steerage way too, and save her gettin' broadside on."
The pullers put every ounce of strength into their strokes, and this was very helpful. The final rush into the cross-current was a most critical moment, and might easily have resulted in disaster. This was averted only by Joe's coolness and dexterity.
"Oars out!" cried he as the boat swept into the angry and turbulent river. Save for shipping some water, and drenching the crew with spray, the little craft weathered the river plunge. An involuntary "Oh!" came from the boys as the boat shot the rapids and soused into the river. Immediately she came under the influence of two currents; that going outward from the chute, and the swift down-river stream.
This effect was to take them instantly well out toward the centre of the flood, with a strong drift which carried the boat into the vicinity of the Bend. The river bend gave the current a direction which set across to the other side. This diagonal movement was accelerated by the chute waters, which retained their impetus, in a measure, for a considerable distance.
Downward then, and cross-wise to the northern bank, the frail craft sped, the sport and play of the watery element. Dangers stood, or rather, drifted thick around the adventurers. Picture for a moment a tiny vessel, some fifteen feet over all, whose timbers are of the proverbial egg-shell thickness, shot into an angry, bubbling cauldron, whose tumultuous waters heaved and swirled, hissed and roared, in inarticulate sound and motion.
That, in itself, were an experience of sufficient magnitude to quicken the blood, test the nerves, and try the courage of the hardiest waterman. Add to the perils of that situation a thousand floating dangers, any one of which might crush that tiny, drifting cockle-shell out of existence, and you have the position which faced and surrounded the affrighted lads on the demon-ridden waters.
CHAPTER VII
THE DEATH OF THE FOREST MONARCH