Pals: Young Australians in Sport and Adventure

by Carol Norton

  *CHAPTER VIII*

  *WHAT THE TREE HELD*

  "Thereafter grew the wind; and chafing deaths In distant waters, sent a troubled cry Across the slumbrous forest; and the chill Of coming rain was on the sleeper's brow." HENRY KENDALL.

  "James!" exclaimed Mrs. Blain to her husband during this eventfulmorning, "it's dinner-time and those lads are not back. I hope nothinghas happened."

  "What do you expect could have happened, you dear old fidget? I'm goingto the post, however, and I'll have a look round."

  Could Mr. Blain have beheld the lads at this particular time, the calmof his deep nature would have been broken up in a fashion rare to hisexperience; for at this moment the boat and its occupants are beingborne on the rapids, presently to be flung upon the riotous andfoam-crested waves of the river.

  In moving along the street the minister met several persons who had beenout on the back-water during the morning. All had seen the boys at onetime or another. One of the latest in, who had been farther up than mostof the others, had passed the boys on his return not long before. Theywere then heading up the swamp way.

  "Don't fear, Mr. Blain, the boys know how to take care of themselves.Dinner's calling 'em loudly enough by this time, I wager ye."

  Dinner-time came and went, but no boys. As the afternoon wore on themother's fears deepened until they became well-nigh unendurable. Theminister, rowed by two of the neighbours, set out to find the truantsand fetch them back.

  "Don't lose faith, dear! They're up to some prank, the thoughtlessscamps! I'll fetch them home none the worse, to laugh at your fears."

  Following Tom's index-finger, the boys fastened their eyes upon a clumpof river oaks that stood on the edge of the woods.

  High up in a fork of one of the largest trees, they could see whatlooked at first like a huge bundle of clothes fluttering in the wind.After a short while the bundle seemed to take a somewhat definite shape.

  "What in the name of goodness is it all? Seems like a lot of oldclothes jammed in the tree forks. Are you sure that the squall, orsqueak, or squeal, or whatever it was, came from that direction?"

  "Yes, I think so," replied Tom. "Listen, there it's again!" A thin,treble cry rose faintly above the din of the flood waters.

  "See a woman's foot!"

  The speaker was the half-caste, whose eyesight, owing to his half-wildnature, was much keener than his fellows'.

  "A woman's foot, Billy! What do you mean? You don't mean to sayreally, that----!"

  "See hand too! Look along bark. See fingers!"

  Thus directed, the three boys looked, and saw, though but indistinctly,what appeared to be a hand grasping the tree-trunk, a foot, also, wasrevealed at intervals by the fluttering garment.

  After a short, staring silence, a flood of mental light broke upon Joe."I see now. Why, it's the poor soul we heard cooeeing last night!"

  Yes, there had been plenty of speculation in the village as to who itcould be, and exactly where the voice came from. None of those whoheard the piteous wail that was borne across the floods in the black andwild darkness of that night would forget it for many a long day to come.

  The mystery is now solved. The boys are horror-stricken at the sightand its sequent thought. They are now convinced that a woman is fixedin the tree. Without reasoning the matter out, they identify her as theone whose cry over night produced such a sensation in the township, andto locate which the police boat with a strong crew had started out atdaybreak, but without success.

  _Is she alive or dead_? The strange cry did not seem to be that of awoman. There was something so eerie, so shocking in the thought, thatthe lads were fear-possessed for some moments. Joe, as usual, recoveredhimself first.

  "It's a woman sure enough! It's a human being, at any rate. An', boys,we've got to rescue her if she is alive. The cry can only come from her,I'm sure, so that there must be some life left still. How to do it Ican't just see at this moment. We must think a bit."

  Think a bit they did. Camped as they were at the lower end of thetimber, it would be a matter of comparative ease to work up through thetrees in the slack water, till they arrived opposite to the clump thatstood out in the stream. There the real difficulties would begin. Therush of waters was still so strong, and the space for the play of theboat so small, that it became evident the rescue would be accompanied bysome alarming risks.

  One of two things must be done: either wait until the waters recededsufficiently to enable the rescuers to wade to the clump, or make animmediate dash.

  "How long d'you think it'd be before we could wade across, Joe?"

  "Dunno, Billy. Beckon there's eight or nine foot of water out there.Might be less. At any rate it'd be hours."

  "Hours!" cried Tom. "An' s'posin' that poor creature's still alive?"

  "That settles it!" exclaimed Joe, rising in his seat in excitement."Boys, what's to be done must be done quickly."

  Seemingly all were agreed. At least no objection was offered to thisproposal, or, rather, mandate. So it was resolved, after somecogitation, to pull the boat through the timber to a point some distancehigher up than the isolated clump. From thence the course would beoutwards until the river current was met; an estimated distance of ahundred yards. The boat was to be headed against the current when inthe stream influence. A vigorous row would be necessary to neutralisethe current, to be modified so as to allow the craft to drift slowlydown-stream. Then, when opposite the clump, a dash for the tree whereonthe unfortunate woman was lying was to be made.

  Inasmuch as this tree was almost in the centre of the group, and thestream still ran with violence, it was easy to see that without skilfulmanagement, and some luck, the boat might be stove in against atree-bole; or, worse still, might be impaled upon a submerged snag. Anyaccident, such as missing way at a critical moment, or the snapping ofan oar blade, might be fraught with the most disastrous consequences.

  During the short conference Jimmy Flynn had kept silence. Towards theend, as Joe set forth the attendant dangers, he became considerablyperturbed. After sundry wrigglings and contortions, rubbing of handsand licking of lips, these visual twistings found voice.

  "I say, Joe! don't--er--yer think that--er--we'd better wait a bit?"

  "Why?" chorused the boys.

  "Oh--I--I dunno. Well--er--p'raps some other boat'll come over from thetownship d'reckly an'--an'----"

  "And s'pose no boat comes along?"

  "Well, then, I--I--er--vote--that we--er----"

  "By jing! Jimmy," interposed Tom, with a jeer, "who'd 'a' thought you'd'a' showed the white feather!"

  "White feather yourself, Hawkins!" returned the fearful but now angryboy.

  "Jimmy!" broke in Yellow Billy unexpectedly, for as a rule thehalf-caste was taciturn--the taciturnity of modesty in his case. Billy,while carrying some of the defects of aboriginal descent, was akind-hearted and easily contented lad. "Jimmy!" said he, in a soft,quiet tone, "s'pose your mother was over there?"

  Jimmy Flynn, who was sitting with a sullen, hang-dog expression,quivered as though he had received an electric shock. There was withinhim a consciousness of the truth of Tom's term. He was a coward, andthe very notion of it angered him, and at the same time made himresentful. He shrank from the undertaking. None of the boys were inlove with it, for that matter. Jimmy only, among the four, allowed hisfear to overmaster him.

  These few words of Billy, uttered in a quiet, even tone, went straightto the boy's heart. His sullen brows lifted. The angry resentment whichhad disfigured his face vanished. Straightening his bent figure, heseized the oar lying by his side. Then, squaring his shoulders, as heinclined forward to grip the water, he said quietly, "Let her go."

  Immediately on releasing the boat Joe steered her in a semicircularcourse, keeping out back where the standing timber was thinnest. Theboys pulled slowly, for there was always the danger of snags. They werein fairly sl
ack water, and so had no need to exert themselves; besideswhich, it were wise to husband their strength for the supreme moment.

  Tom and Jimmy, both expert oarsmen, were the rowers. Yellow Billy wasstationed in the bow, with instructions to keep a keen look out forsnags. He was armed with a stout pole in order that he might fend theboat on any critical occasion, or when the rudder might be inoperative.It formed a very useful instrument in Billy's practised hands, andenabled him to ward off the craft from many dangers that did not appearuntil the boat was almost upon them. As it was there were severalominous scrapes, as the boat rasped over submerged branches. Fortunatelythey reached the point determined upon without any accident.

  They paused here a moment before leaving the slack water for the swiftlyrunning stream.

  "Now, boys," said Joe, after a brief survey, "sit steady, and pull forall you're worth. Mind you, no flurry. Keep an even stroke. Got thepainter coiled, Billy?"

  "All right, Joe."

  "Pull then, boys, and stick to it like grim death to a diseased nigger."

  The boat having got good way on, Joe headed her out a little, when sheimmediately encountered the current.

  "Lay to it, my lads, lay to it!"

  The boys "lay to" with such vigour that the rapid current wascounterbalanced, and she hung in the stream, neither making headway nordrifting.

  "Easy a little, my hearties! We must let her drift down gradually.Mustn't let her get out of hand, though."

  In swinging the boat into the channel Joe kept her nose up-stream, andas near the slack water as possible. The boys easing a trifle at Joe'scommand, the current became the stronger of the two forces, and thelittle craft drifted slowly. Blain eagerly scanned the clump for anopening. This cluster, it may be remarked, was about two hundred yardslong and fifty or so wide. In some parts the timber was thicklyscattered, in others the trees were bunched together.

  The boat is now about fifty yards above the tree containing the supposedwoman.

  "That's right, chaps, keep up as you're doin'! We must drift veryslowly lest we miss the chance of popping in. It's too thick to venturein here. It's thinnin' out, though," exclaimed Joe, as the boat nearedthe point abreast the tree.

  "Here's an opening, I do believe. Be ready, Billy! Pull, lads! pull,pull! Look out all!"

  The boat lay anglewise, so that the current worked upon her quarter.Seeing a fair opening, Joe urged the rowers to do their utmost. So harddid they pull that the current, playing upon her quarter as she hung afew minutes stationary, forced her through the gap and towards the tree.The manoeuvre was splendidly executed. The boat was now within fiveyards or so of the tree, the boys putting every ounce of strength intotheir strokes. A minute or less now and they will either be fast to thetree or drifting down on to a solid block of timber just below.

  Yellow Billy, who had crouched in the bow, now rose up quietly, rope inhand, ready to act promptly in the decisive moment. By good fortune alimb projected about five feet above the water, and branched out somedistance from the tree. Joe worked the boat straight up-stream, andthen called on the rowers to ease the barest trifle. The craft swungvery slowly down, until she was fairly under the limb.

  "Sling the painter over the branch an' make fast, Billy!" cried Joe, asthe stern drifted under. "Pull now, you beggars, a last spurt!"

  Billy whipped the rope round the limb, and made fast in a flash; therowers, by a few desperate strokes, keeping the boat stationary.

  "Hold her there a second. Let the loop lie loose an' edge it to thetrunk, Billy!"

  Joe thus worked the boat over until she was just at the rear of thetree.

  "Ease her off gently now, boys. Steady still! A wrench might snap thepainter."

  The boys accordingly eased off gradually, and finally stopped.

  "Two of you come aft, it'll ease the strain."

  This done, the boat, which by burying her nose deep in the water wasstraining heavily on the rope, trimmed herself, and offered but theminimum resistance to the racing waters.

  The tree-bole, which presented a somewhat broad surface, divided thewaters, creating a narrow zone of neutral water in its wake. In thiseddying area the boat rode securely, making it an easy matter for thebowman to keep her nose up against the tree.

  And now each boy bent an upward glance to the fork.