The Ocean Cat's Paw Part 64

The most cheerful thing that fell to their lot during the weary hours was the announcement made from time to time by Joe Cross, that the water was sinking a little lower and a little lower, so that he had room to hope that after a while he too would be able to, as he put it, drip himself dry.

But the monotony was terrible, and the morning seemed as if it would never come. For it was far different from being in the temperate region of the world, where in the summer months the darkness was slow to come and was succeeded by a very early dawn. There in that tropical southern land they were where the twenty-four-hours day was pretty equally divided into light and darkness, with scarcely any twilight to soften down the division.

But still as everything comes to those who wait, so it was there, and Joe Cross announced at last that he was sitting quite clear of the water, and therefore, as he judged it, they had not very much longer to wait before it would be day.

But he was wrong. What seemed to be an interminable time elapsed before the watchers could see for certain that a faint light seemed to be piercing the dense grey mist that covered the river. But this did at last become a certainty.

Before long, on one side, grey and grim-looking beneath a heavy mist, the great river could be seen gliding steadily along, while away to their right rose the primeval forest, rising as it were out of a sea of shadow.

The change came quickly then through a rapid twilight to the bright rays of the sunshine, which seemed to attack the river mist, piercing it through and through, routing it, and sending it in clouds rolling along the stream, while, now glistening and muddy, the banks showed out beyond the trees amidst which the huge monarch in which they had taken refuge stood towering almost alone.

"Why, we must have come insh.o.r.e for some distance last night," cried Rodd, in wonder.

"Ay, my lad. Banks flooded. High tide perhaps," said Joe bluffly.

"Well, the sooner we gets down into this mud and stretches our legs the better; and if they don't come down in the boats, how we are going to get back is more than I know."

"Look! Look yonder!" cried Rodd, as, sweeping the park-like stretch around him, he suddenly caught sight of an object that filled his breast with joy.

"Three cheers, my lads," shouted Joe, waving his hand, "and--Oh, hold hard! Avast there! Gig's safe to have a hole through her bottom."

For there, about a hundred yards away, between the trees, lay something gleaming amongst the mud.

He could only see a portion, but that was enough, and one by one, stiff and cold, the unfortunate party lowered themselves down from their perches to drop into a thin surface of soft mud, the swift rush of the tide preventing it from acc.u.mulating to any depth.

Their fortune was better than they antic.i.p.ated, for on reaching the boat's side it was to find that, though bottom upward, she had escaped any serious injury, the yielding boughs into which she had been swept having checked the force of the concussion and left her to glide from tangle of boughs to tangle, until she had been wedged into a huge fork and had from there slowly settled down.

But there was neither oar nor boat-hook, and the line fastened to her foremost thwart had been snapped in two.

"All her tackle gone," said Joe grimly. "Well, we must try and find and hack off some big bamboo canes with our jack-knives, and then try if we can't punt her up against the tide, which ought to be pretty slack by now--that is, if they don't come to find us."

"But look here, Joe," cried Rodd, as he stood shading his eyes from the horizontal sunbeams; "there's the river, and the mist's rolling along with the tide. Here, I'm puzzled. Which way did we come?"

"Why, that's plain enough, Mr Rodd, sir. Down with the stream yon way."

"But that must be down-stream."

"Nay, not it, my lad. The river winds, and so did my head. Here, I'm all of a maze still. No, I aren't. Here, I'm blest! Why, you are right, sir. That is up-stream, and--Hooray, my lads! One pole will do, to steer. We are going to be carried back again, for the tide's turned and running up steady."

A very little search resulted in their coming upon a bed of canes, out of which four were cut and trimmed, supplying them with good stout poles twelve or fourteen feet long, and laying these along the thwarts the men, glad now of the exercise to drive out the chill, insisted upon Rodd getting into the boat while they waded through the mud by her side, half lifting, half thrusting, and succeeded at last in getting her to where a sloping portion of the bank ran down to the river.

"Now all together, my lads," cried Joe. "Keep step, and hold her well in hand, for she'll soon begin to slide; and as soon as she reaches the water, jump in. Make ready. I'll give the word."

"Stop!" shouted Rodd. "What about the crocodiles?"

"Oh, murder!" cried Joe. "I forgot all about them. Well, never mind.

This aren't no time to be nice. It's got to be done, so here goes."

Rodd seized one of the poles, and going right to the bows knelt down in the bottom, and holding the pole lance fashion, prepared to try and use it.

"That won't be no good, my lad," cried Joe. "Now, my lads--one, two, three! Off she goes!"

They ran the gig quickly down the muddy slope, and as they touched the water and the foremost part began to float they took another step or two, gave her a final thrust, and sprang in, just as Rodd realised the truth of the sailor's words, for as they glided out with tremendous force, before they were a dozen yards from the water's edge the gig's stem collided just behind two muddy-looking prominences that appeared above the surface of the water, and as the shock sent the boy backwards over the next thwart the boat, which was bounding up and down with the result of the men springing in, received another shock from something dark which rose out of the water, and then they glided on past a tremendous ebullition and were carried onward by the rising tide.

"Here, let me come, Mr Rodd," cried Joe Cross, as he scrambled forward.

"Here, catch hold, sir, and help me drag my jersey over my head. The brute's stove us in, and if I don't look sharp--Pull, sir, pull--right over my head! That's got it," he cried, and he set to work thrusting the woollen knitted shirt bit by bit along between the edges of two of the planks, through which the water was rapidly gurgling in. "There,"

he said; "that'll keep some on it out; but don't all on you stand looking at me as if I was playing a conjuring trick. Get a couple of those poles over the sides. Nay, nay, it's no use to try to punt.

Dessay the water's fathoms deep. Just keep her head straight, and let the tide carry us on. Look out, my lads! There's another of them up yonder. See, Mr Rodd, sir--them two nubbles? Them's his eyes. He just keeps his beautiful muddy carcase all hid under water and squints along the top with them pretty peepers of hisn to look out for his breakfast. Keep back, sir; I believe he's coming on at us, big as the boat is. Oh, this is a pretty place, upon my word! He means me, because he can see my white skin."

Instead of answering, Rodd picked up the bamboo pole, which had been jerked from his hands when they encountered the other reptile.

Three of the men followed his example of holding them ready to strike at what they could see of the crocodile, and as they were carried closer by the tide and Rodd could just make out below the muddy surface that the water was being stirred by the undulation of the tail of the monster, which was apparently fourteen or fifteen feet long, three poles were sharply thrust together, two of them coming in contact with the creature's head just behind its eyes.

The blows were heavy, having behind them the weight and impetus of the loaded boat, and once more there was a tremendous swirl in the water, as the crocodile raised its head right out, turned completely over, displaying its pallid buff under portion, and then curved itself over, and in the act of diving down threw up its tail and struck the surface of the water with a blow that deluged the occupants of the cutter with spray.

"Well," cried Joe, as the boat glided on, "I don't know what you chaps think of it, but I am getting warm again, and I call this 'ere sport.

But I say, Mr Rodd, I am beginning to wish you was aboard the _Maid of Salcombe_, and you'd took me with you."

"Same 'ere, sir," cried the men, in chorus.

"See any more, Mr Rodd?"

"No, not yet, Joe."

"Well, there's no hurry, sir. Let's get our breath. But do you call this 'ere fishing or shooting?"

"There's another," cried Rodd excitedly; "but it's going the other way."

"Got to know perhaps, sir, how we upset t'other. But we can spare him, for I'll be bound to say there's plenty more of them. Now I wonder what they are all for--pretty creatures!"

"What they are for, Joe?" cried Rodd, without taking his eyes from the surface of the muddy stream which was carrying them onward.

"Yes, sir; I don't see as they are much good. I say, there's another one! No, he's ducked his head down. Ah, he's coming up again. Look out, my lads!" cried the man. "I wish there was another pole. There's nothing left for me but my knife, and they are as hard as shoehorns, I know. I don't want to break my whittle against his skin. No, he's going to let us go by. Ah! Look out!"

For as they drew nearer the sun flashed off the reptile's muddy skin, and they could see it glide round rapidly and strike two tremendous blows on the surface with its serrated tail--blows that had been probably directed at the boat, but which fell short, while in its blind stupidity it kept on thrashing the water several times after the vessel had pa.s.sed.

"Ahoy! Ahoy!" came from somewhere, seeming to echo from the trees that covered the bank.

"Ahoy! Ahoy!" shouted Joe Cross back. "Why, that means help, sir. The brig must be lying there, just round that bend beyond the trees."

"Oh no," cried Rodd excitedly. "We must have gone down miles with the tide."

"Ahoy! Ahoy!" came again. "Boat ahoy!" from somewhere out of sight; and glancing back Rodd made out that they were pa.s.sing along what seemed to be a rapid bend.

"Ahoy!" was shouted back, and then all at once, to the astonishment of the sufferers, a couple of boats came into sight from right astern, their occupants sending the spray flying as they bent to their oars and seemed to be racing to overtake the gig.

For the moment the boats, quite a quarter of a mile behind, took up all their attention, and Rodd stood up in the bows waving his hand wildly.

"There's Uncle Paul, and the skipper, in one!" he cried.