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Mass' George: A Boy's Adventures in the Old Savannah, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 29 |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. "Now, Pomp," I said, after we had each lain down and had a good hearty drink of clear water, "the way to get home is to make a raft and float down the river." "Don't want raft--want um boat," he said. "Do you know what a raft is?" I said. "No, Mass' George." I explained to him, and he shook his head. "'Gator come and pick Pomp and Mass' George off." "We must make it so big that they could not." "How make big raft?--no chopper to cut down tree." "We must cut down and tie together bundles of canes," I said, after a long pause, well occupied by thinking. "They will bear us if we lie down upon them. We have a knife; let's try." It was no easy task to get the knife free, for the threads by which it was bound into the split end of the cane had swollen; but it was clear at last, and selecting a suitable spot where the shore was quite a cane brake, we toiled away cutting and tying together bundle after bundle of canes, till we had six which roughly resembled as many big trusses of straw. These we secured to four of the stoutest canes we could find, passing them through the bands crosswise, and after a good deal of difficulty, and at the risk of undoing our work, we managed to thrust it off the bank into the river, where, to my great delight, upon trying it, the buoyancy far exceeded my expectations. In fact, though we could not have stood upon it, lying down it supported us well, and without any hesitation, after cutting a couple of light poles for steering or directing, we thrust off from the side, and began gliding down the stream. From that moment it seemed as if our troubles were over, for we had little difficulty in keeping well out from the overhanging boughs, while a thrust or two with our poles enabled us to avoid fallen trees and patches of growth rising from the river shallows. I soon felt convinced that if the bands we had made would hold out, we should have no difficulty in floating down, for I could recall no rapids or falls likely to give us trouble. Certainly we had seen nor heard neither. Our risks were from the collapse of our raft, from the reptiles that we kept seeing from time to time as we glided slowly on, and from the Indians, whom, as I scanned the bank, I expected moment by moment to see start from the dense growth which fringed the sides with a yell. If we could have felt secure, the ride down the river would have been delightful, for it was all in the bright sunshine, with a wall of the loveliest verdure on either side. Flowers hung in clusters, or sprang from the moist banks; birds flitted here and there, and every now and then some great heron or crane sprang up with flapping wings and harsh cry at being disturbed while fishing. But every now and then an excited movement on the part of Pomp told me that an alligator was in sight, sunning himself on a shoal, or where he had beaten down the reedy growth as he had crawled out upon the bank. Such movements on the boy's part were perilous, the side of the raft going down slowly and steadily, till I forced him to lie still. "They will not touch us," I said, "unless we are struggling in the water. Do you want to fall in or upset the raft?" He shuddered, and his eyes rolled a little, but he lay still, and we glided on till we must have gone down a couple of miles, when all at once Pomp uttered a cry. "Hush!" I said, despairingly. "You will be heard." "Nebber mind. Quick, Mass' George! Push! Push!" I could not understand what he meant, but it was evident that something was wrong, and there was no time to ask for an explanation; so I helped all I could to push the raft toward the farther shore, convinced that the Indians were upon us, and that we must seek safety in the forest once again. It was easy enough to float with the stream, but hard work to make the raft to move as we wished, and we must have gone down fully a hundred yards farther before there was a chance to seize an overhanging branch, and tow the raft to a clear piece of the farther bank, on to which Pomp scrambled at once. "Quick, Mass' George, quick!" he cried; and leaving me to follow, he disappeared at once in the dense cane and bush. I was not long in following; and as I got ashore I saw the raft caught by an eddy, as it rose relieved from my weight, and as I plunged into the thicket I had a glimpse of it being carried out into the swift stream. I was too much excited and hurried to follow Pomp, whom I heard crashing on before me, to pause to think about our retreat being now cut off by water, unless we made a new raft. The Indians must be there within view, I felt; but why did no arrows come; and why did not my companion plunge at once into the forest? The explanation came directly, as I struggled on, seeing my route marked by trampled down reed and broken twig, for Pomp suddenly shouted-- "I got um, Mass' George." What had he got? Something eatable, I felt, for he was always hungry; and to obtain this we had lost our raft, and should have all the work to do over again. "Hush!" I whispered, angrily; "you will be heard." "Done matter now," came from close at hand, though I could see nothing yet. "Pomp fine um." I struggled out of the low brushwood, and came into a more open part of the bank, and there stood in astonishment, to find my companion dancing with delight, and pointing to where, six feet above my head, just as it had been left by the subsiding of the water, and on a nearly even keel, was the lost boat, perched among the bushes, and apparently none the worse for its journey. "Oh, Pomp!" I cried, as excited now as he, "this is a find." "See juss lit' bit ob um back up dah, Mass' George," he said. "Come try and get um down." I beat and pressed down the bushes as much as I could, and together we reached the stern of the boat; but as I touched it a fresh thought arose to damp my spirits. There was the boat, but in what condition was it? It did not seem possible that it could have been drifting about in that flood and left here without damage--a hole made by some jagged projecting tree branch, or a plank started. "Now den, Mass' George, pull." I dragged at the stem, and then uttered a warning cry and threw myself back, for the boat was so lightly perched on the bushes that it came down with a rush, and as we started up again, and examined it, as far as I could see it was completely uninjured, and even the oars were in their places beneath the thwarts. The rest of the journey toward the water was not quite so easy, but we tugged and lifted, and by degrees got it on the few yards farther, and at last had the satisfaction of sending it crashing down into a bed of reedy growth, and springing in to push it onward into the stream, where, once clear of the dense water grasses, it began to glide down easily and well. Now that the excitement of the discovery and launching of the boat was over, it all seemed to have been a kind of day-dream; and though I took my seat on a thwart, and got an oar over the side, I could hardly believe it real till I recalled that it was possible that our actions had all been watched, and that amongst the trees and bushes of the other side dozens of keen eyes might be aiming arrows at us, and the oar almost dropped from my hand. Pomp was thinking of our enemies too, for, as he got his oar over the side, and was looking down stream, he exclaimed suddenly-- "Yah! Who 'fraid now? Look, Mass' George, dat big ugly ole 'gator, dah." "Pomp!" I cried, in an excited whisper; and I half rose to fling myself down, to lie in shelter of the boat's side. For at that moment, from some distance off, came a cry that I recognised as an Indian yell. _ |
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