CHAPTER XXVII
BOB
THE situation had suddenly grown more desperate.
Deprived of what assistance Sandy might have given him, Bob mustshoulder the entire burden. Perhaps the other had not been doing much,but his weak efforts must surely have helped a little.
Bob instinctively moved back. This would give him greater power toswing the head of the dancing canoe toward the objective point; for thepaddler in the stern usually commands the course of the boat betterthan his comrade placed in the bow, though the latter guards againstcollisions, where rocks or stumps abound.
The time was so frightfully short that whatever was done had to becarried out by sheer instinct, rather than reasoning.
Sandy, utterly exhausted, and with his poor heart almost broken becauseof this new catastrophe which could be laid to his eager clumsiness,had dropped back in the bottom of the canoe. Here he lay in severalinches of water, so discouraged that he was for the moment utterlyunmindful of what was going on around him.
Of course he knew that Bob was working like a frantic being to push thewavering bow just a little closer to the shore they were so rapidlyskirting. But it was all useless. His blunder had spoiled their lasthope, and now nothing remained but to take what came.
How wonderful it was to see how Bob arose to the occasion. His armswere working like flails in the hands of a thresher of grain. They spedbackward and forward with a momentum that fairly bewildered the eyes ofSandy.
But alas! there was one stupendous drawback, one thing that seemedfated to undo all this splendid work which his gallant brother wasputting into play. Sandy saw, and groaned in spirit; for that was wherehe might have saved the day had he not lost his grip on his paddle whenthe hungry waves snatched at it.
It was the lost motion that would ruin them. Fast though Bob was makinghis apparently tireless arms move, he could not keep up a constantmovement. And between his strokes that ceaseless current would undonearly every bit of good that had been accomplished by his efforts.
Had Sandy been able to insert his blade between, he might have held thecanoe to what had been gained. And each time Bob would have won moreand more inches.
And yet, despite this serious handicap, Bob was actually doing wonders.Surely they did not seem to be quite so far away from the shore as whenthey first came abreast of the long island!
Sandy awoke to the fact that perhaps after all there _was_ a glimmer ofhope.
"Oh! if you only can, Bob!" he cried, bestirring himself.
Was there anything he could do to help? He thought of leaning over theside of the canoe, and using his poor hands to dash at the water, onwhose swiftly moving bosom they were being swept along.
Useless, worse than useless, for in so doing he might only serve toweaken Bob's furious efforts, by shaking the frail and almost sinkingboat.
His gun--could he not do something with the broad shoulder butt to urgethe canoe around? Sandy was a creature of impulse. He seldom waited togive a second thought to anything, once it found lodgment in his brain.
So he made a swoop forward, snatching the musket from the place whereit had been fastened before the voyage was begun. The cord held, butwith a second fierce jerk he broke it.
Then, with a shout in which new hope had a part, Sandy dipped the stockof the old gun deep in the river, and swept it around toward the stern.
Bob realized what he was doing. He could not look around, of course,since each second was priceless just then. Perhaps he understood fromsome trifling change in the movement of the canoe, when he drew hisdripping blade out for another mad plunge, that a new element had takenhold.
And it may have even spurred the brave lad to doing better than before,if such a thing could be.
They were now rapidly approaching the lower end of the island.Bob's eyes were fastened eagerly on that point. The rain had ceasedtemporarily, and he could see plainly. How he wished he had examinedthe cross currents there more closely at the time they were leisurelypaddling up stream!
There would only be time for about a dozen more quick energetic dips ofthe paddle. He must make each one tell. After that a great deal woulddepend on fortune whether they reached that line of foam which markedthe edge of the drawback. If they could only attain a lodgment withinthat charmed half circle, he believed it would be possible to gain theland.
Sandy was working again with feverish anxiety to undo the harm hismistake had wrought.
The newly awakened hope gave him a fictitious strength, and, whilethe stock of an old flint-lock musket may not be the finest sort of apaddle in the world, there might be things much worse.
Sandy knew they had a chance! He could see the head of the canoe,water-logged though the craft was at the time, and slow to respond totheir efforts, turning toward the land, inch by inch.
Yes, surely they were going to make it! If only Bob could keep up hisstrenuous work a dozen seconds longer all must be well. Once theyreached the border of the cross currents, the tug would be relievedwonderfully, and they could urge their unwieldy craft into a harbor!
He knew Bob would rise to the occasion. He could see him settlinghimself as if to let loose the very last atom of reserve strengththere might lurk in his system. Gallant Bob! was his like ever knownamong the young pioneers of the West? Nothing seemed able to crush hishopeful and determined spirit. What a brother to have; and how Sandy'swhole soul seemed to go out to him in that dreadful moment, when theirlives hung trembling in the balance!
Trust him for keeping a tight grip on his invaluable blade. There couldnever happen to wise Bob the same disaster that had overwhelmed Sandywith confusion.
Three of the needed half-dozen sweeps had already been given. And theresult seemed to be all that might have been expected, so that Sandy'shopes rose higher with each stroke.
They were gaining--they would make the ripple, and be saved from thehorrors that lay further down that swollen stream!
And just when Sandy was about to burst out into a shout of joy, if hisspent breath would allow of such a thing, he was suddenly plunged backagain into the pit of despair.
For there was an ominous sharp crack, a cry from Bob, and he held upthe stump of his broken paddle. It had failed him at the criticalmoment!
Poor Sandy collapsed when he saw this sight. He dropped his now uselessgun in the bottom of the canoe, and cowered there, shutting out theterrible sight of the island slipping past by covering his eyes withhis hands.
It had been so nearly accomplished that the catastrophe seemed all themore keen, and he could not bear to look at the receding haven whichthey had hoped to make their refuge.
Of course now the canoe would be wholly in the power of the victoriouscurrent, which must carry it onward like a chip, until shortly theincoming water would attain such a level as to sink the craft.Then--but Sandy could not allow himself to picture what would happenwhen he and his brother were forced to battle with the cruel giantscontained in those leaping waves.
But what was this? Surely there was a jerking motion to the craft thathad been missing after Bob's ill-fated paddle broke!
Sandy wonderingly uncovered his eyes. He stared in dismay. Why, wherewas Bob? The place where he had set while working like a hero wasdeserted! Had he seen the folly of further resistance, and thrownhimself over the side, welcoming the fate that seemed so certain?
Sandy half started up, cold with fear. The boat was still headingtoward that end of the island, so close that he could easily havetossed a biscuit on the nearest bushes, half under water now!
Some unseen influence was evidently urging the canoe along its course,just as though a friendly giant, concealed from view under the rushing,tumultuous waters, had decided at the last instant to give theadventurous boys a parting chance.
Then all at once the truth flashed over him. Why, to be sure, it wasBob! He had refused to be utterly cast down by the sudden reversethat snatched away his valuable paddle by snapping it in half. He hadinstantly plunged over the side of the boat. He was in th
e water,gripping the hesitating canoe, and striving with all his power to urgeit into peaceful waters!
So Sandy again snatched up his abandoned gun, and, dipping the stockdeep in the river's foam, strove to add what little assistance he couldto the gallant efforts of the boy who would not give in.
Inch by inch they began to win out. Sandy's heart seemed to be in hismouth during that critical period, when the boat actually balancedbetween two courses. Then, as though Bob had given a last tremendouslunge, it selected the easier alternative, and headed for the point ofthe island!
The Pioneer Boys of the Ohio; or, Clearing the Wilderness Page 30