CHAPTER XVII

WE MEET WITH AN ACCIDENT

I find it poor work transcribing so much regarding myself in recounting these small adventures, yet how else may I tell the story rightly? This all occurred so long ago the young man of whom I write seems hardly the same old man who puts pen to paper. The impression grows upon me that I merely narrate incidents which befell a friend I once knew, but who has long since passed from my vision.

It was wearying work, toiling up the muddy Arkansas, and in the end disastrous. Occasionally, for miles at a stretch, our hearts were gladdened by a curve toward the northward, yet we drew westerly so much we became fearful lest the Jesuit had made false report on the main course of the stream. Every league plunged us deeper into strange, desolate country, until we penetrated regions perhaps never before looked upon by men of our race. The land became more attractive, the sickly marsh giving place to wide, undulating plains richly decorated with wild grasses, abloom with flowers, bordered by a thick fringe of wood. Toward the end of our journeying by boat, after we had passed two cliffs upreared above the water, the higher rising sheer for two hundred feet, we perceived to the northward vast chains of hills rising in dull brown ridges against the sky-line, seemingly crowned with rare forest growth to their very summits. During all these days and nights in only two things could we deem ourselves fortunate--we discovered no signs of roving savages, while wild animals were sufficiently numerous to supply all our needs.

Three days' journey beyond the great cliff--for we voyaged now during the daylight, making camp at nightfall--I became convinced of the utter futility of further effort. By this time I had recovered sufficiently from my wound to assume a share of labor at the oars, and was pulling that afternoon, so my eyes could glance past the fiery red crop of the Puritan, who held the after-oar, to where the Captain and Madame rested in the stern. I remarked De Noyan's dissatisfied stare along the featureless shore we skirted, and the lines of care and trouble becoming daily more manifest upon Madame's face. Thus studying the two, I cast about in my own mind for some possible plan of escape.

They had been conversing together in low tones, so low, indeed, no words reached me, while the preacher knew nothing of the language employed. Nevertheless I could guess its purport. It was sufficiently clear to all of us that we merely wasted strength longer breasting the swift current of this river, and were constantly drawing farther from our goal. Yet I was of proud spirit in those days, finding it not easy to swallow my hastily spoken words, so I continued to pull steadily at the heavy oars, not seeing clearly how best to conquer myself, confess my former mistake, and advise retreat. Fortunately a stronger influence than false pride urged me to action. Marking again how sadly Eloise drooped her sobered face above the water, it put the heart of a man in me to acknowledge my error, offering such amends as were still possible.

It seems simple enough, yet it was not so small a struggle, nor did I fully win the battle over stubbornness until the gray of evening began wrapping about us hazy folds of cloud, the time coming when we must seek suitable night camp. It was then I found tongue, even while glancing across my shoulder, through the shadows, searching for a landing-place. As if all this were yesterday, I recall the scene. Everything swam in the gray haze, which, settling across the water, shut off from view much of the land. We were nearly abreast of where a smaller stream came leaping down from the right to hurl its clear current far out into the muddy river. So rapid was this discharge, the waters about us were thrown into turmoil, tossing our boat like a cork, causing Madame to grasp the rail nervously. Its narrow mouth was partially concealed by overhanging shrubbery, so we were well within the sweep of its invading waters before I could conjecture the force with which it came. Through the dim light, confusing to the eyes, I sought to peer ahead. The hills, huddled much closer to the shore, appeared rough in their rocky outlines, while the heavy underbrush, clinging tightly to the water-side, offered nothing in the way of a suitable camping-spot. Beyond the tumultuous sweep of this northern tributary, however, I discovered a considerable patch of grass, overshadowed by giant trees, and there I made selection of the spot which should complete our upward voyage.

"Steer us in toward yonder green bank, Madame," I called to Eloise, "where you see that group of trees through the fog. God willing, it shall prove our last camp before we turn east and south once more."

It did my heart good to observe the sudden brightening of her face at these words of promise, as if they came in direct answer to prayer. I understood then how weary she was with our toll, how cruel I had been to hold her so long at it. She had given utterance to no complaint; even now, it was not her voice which welcomed my decision. It was the Chevalier, seldom failing in ready speech, whose careless tongue rasped me with quick retort.

"Ah, so you have really come to your senses, Benteen," he cried eagerly. "I thought it would not be much longer after you were able to get grip upon an oar. Our red-headed friend has slow tongue of late, yet I warrant he has little love for such man-killing work; so a turn-about will be the vote of us all. Saint Anne! 'tis the happiest word to ring in my ears since this cursed trip began."

Nothing tests the innate quality of a man like the wilderness. However bold of heart, if every utterance is a complaint he will prove a constant hardship. I doubted not both De Noyan and the Puritan would show themselves true men if emergency confronted us; but in the daily plodding routine of travel the Chevalier gave way to little worries, jerking along in the harness of necessity like an ill-broken colt; while Cairnes, who pulled steadily in sullen discontent, was much the better comrade of the two.

"Call it what you please," I answered shortly, never removing my gaze from the pleased face of Madame, thus keeping better control over my tongue. "I have become convinced the map of the Jesuit priest lied, and this stream runs not northward. It is useless pushing any farther."

"Where, then?"

"Back, of course. To drift down-stream will be easy now we know something of the current. We return to the junction of the rivers, where we left the Spaniards--'tis hardly probable they are still there; but if they are, then we must trust to our stout arms, and have faith in the right.------ By heavens! Cairnes, what mean you? Damme, man, would you overturn the boat?"

This hasty word of expostulation had hardly left my lips before the Puritan scuttled clumsily overboard, his red hair cropping out of the seething water like a rare growth of fungus. Another instant, and the full shock of that racing current struck our bow, hurling it about as if the trembling boat were an eggshell. Over him we went, his pudgy fingers digging vainly for some holding-place along the slippery planks, his eyes staring up in terror.

"For God's sake, cling tight, Eloise!"

I heard this shout of warning from De Noyan as he fell backward into the water, which, luckily, was scarcely above his waist. Helpless to prevent the plunge, I joined company at the bow, going down well over my head without finding footing, and coming to the surface face to face with the Puritan, who was spluttering out river water and scraps of Calvinistic speech, striving madly to lay hold on some portion of the boat, now spinning away on the swift flood. It was no time to seek explanation from any man wrathful as Cairnes appeared to be, so I devoted my attention to doing the one thing left us,--keeping the crazy craft upright to save Madame and the cargo. Nor was this an easy task. Seldom have I breasted such angry, boiling surge as beat against us--there was no fronting it for those of us beyond our depths, while even De Noyan, making a manful struggle, was forced slowly back into deeper water, where he floundered helpless as the rest. It spun us about like so many tops, until I heard a great crunching of timbers, accompanied by a peculiar rasping which caused my heart to stop its pulsation. All at once the heavy bow swung around. Caught by it, I was hurled flat against the face of a black rock, and squeezed so tightly between stone and planking I thought my ribs must crack.

It was then I noted Cairnes, struggling just beyond me, reaching backward with his foot until he found purchase against the stone, then lifting his great crop to gaze about, sweeping the moisture from his eyes. He braced one mighty shoulder against the boat's side, with such a heave as I never supposed lay in the muscles of any man; swung that whole dead weight free of the rock, and ere the dancing craft, we clinging desperately to it, had made two circles in the mad boiling, I felt my feet strike bottom, and stood upright, ready to do my share again.

"Are you safe, Madame?" I questioned anxiously, for I could see no signs of her presence from where I stood, and she uttered no sound.

"I am uninjured," she returned, "but the boat takes water freely. I fear a plank has given way."

"_Parbleu_!" sputtered De Noyan, with a great sound of coughing. "So have I taken water freely. _Sacre_! I have gulped down enough of the stuff to last me the remainder of life."

"Hold your wit until we are safe ashore, Monsieur," I commented shortly, for as I stood the strain was heavy on my arms. "Push toward the right, both of you, or the boat will sink before we can beach her; she takes water like a sieve."

We slowly won our way backward, the effort requiring every pound of our combined strength, De Noyan and I tugging breathlessly at the stern, the sectary doing yeoman service at the bow. Yet the effort told, bringing us into quieter water, although we upbore the entire weight of the boat on our shoulders after we made firm footing. The water poured in so rapidly Madame was for going overboard also, but we persuaded her to remain. Anyway, we drove the prow against the bank at last, and, as I rested, panting from exertion, I observed the others dragging themselves wearily ashore, Cairnes was a sight, with his great mat of red hair soaked with black mud, which had oozed down over his face, so as to leave it almost unrecognizable. He shook himself like a shaggy water-dog after a bath, flinging himself down full length with a growl. De Noyan fared somewhat better, coming ashore with a smile, even trolling the snatch of a song as he climbed the bank, but his gay military cap, without which, jauntily perched upon one side of his head, I had scarcely before seen him, had gone floating down-stream, and the fierce upward curl of his long moustachios had vanished. They hung now limp, leaving so little _à la militaire_ in his appearance that I had to smile, noting the look of surprise in Madame's eyes as he gallantly assisted her to the dry grass, before flinging himself flat for a breathing spell.

"God guide us!" I exclaimed, so soon as I could trust myself to speak. "This is a hard ending to all our toil, nor do I understand how it came about."

"_Sacre_!" commented De Noyan, glancing across at the fellow. "It looked to me as if yonder canting preacher either was taken with a fit, or sought to make ending here of two papists."

I turned to face the grim-faced sectary, still too thoroughly winded by his late exertions to try the lift of a Psalm.

"See here, sirrah," I began angrily in English, "perhaps you will explain what sort of a Connecticut trick you attempted to play there in the current?"

He twisted his narrow eyes in my direction, apparently studying the full meaning of my words before venturing an answer.

"I know not what you mean, friend," he returned at last, in that deep booming voice of his. "Did I not perform my work with the best of ye?"

"Ay, you were man enough after we went overboard, but why, in the name of all the fiends, did you make so foul a leap, bringing us into such imminent peril?" The gleam of his eyes was no longer visible, but I marked the rise of his great shoulders, his voice rumbling angrily, like distant thunder, as he made reply.

"Why did I make the leap, you unregenerated infidel, you thick-headed heretic? Why did I? Better were I to ask why you ran the boat's nose into that bubbling hell. Why did I? What else saved us losing every pound we carried, together with the woman, you cock-eyed spawn of the devil, only that Ezekiel Cairnes possessed sufficient sense to throw himself in the way, upbearing the bulk of the strain? The water was somewhat deeper than I supposed, and my feet found no bottom, yet 't was the best thing to do, and the only hope of steadying the boat. Better for you and that grinning papist yonder to be on your knees thanking the Almighty He sent you a man this day, than lie there like so many hooked cods, gasping for breath with which to abuse one of the Lord's anointed. Yet 'tis but righteous judgment visited upon me for consorting with papists and unbelievers."

Feeling the possible justice of his claim I hastened to make amends to the wrathful and worthy man.

"You may be right," I admitted slowly. "Certainly we will return thanks for deliverance each in his own way. As for me, I greatly regret having mistrusted your act. Perhaps it was best, yet I think we have small chance ever to use this boat again. It appears badly injured. However, we must await daylight to note the damage. In the meantime, let us make shift to camp; a hot fire will dry our limbs and clothing, and put us in better humor for the morrow."