Part 36 (1/2)
HICKS WAXES INTREPID.
”Phew-w!” whistled Hicks, staring in consternation at the scene before him. Then he added in a determined voice: ”But I'm going straight over that bridge or down the river, one of the two.”
”Umph! More fool you,” growled his companion. ”I'm d.a.m.ned if I am.”
”But look here, Thorman. If we don't get across now while we've a chance, Heaven only knows when we shall. The river's 'down' as it has never been before, and all along the road we have heard nothing but how it's coming down harder. Every blessed one of the bridges will go, and we shall be stuck on this side, it may be for weeks.”
Thorman made no reply, but sat on his horse scowling ferociously at the flood in front of them.
The spot was a drift on the Great Fish River crossed by an important main road which was one of the princ.i.p.al lines of transport up-country.
Some years previously a fine bridge had been thrown across the bed of the river, which at that point was about fifty feet deep and twice the distance in width, thus rendering traffic independent of the rise or fall of the water or the state of the drift--at no time a first-rate one. But although the actual bed of the river was wide and deep, the stream itself was an insignificant trickle, dabbling along over stones, with here and there along sandy reach, after the manner of a North Country trout stream, but without its dash and sparkle. Except in rainy seasons; and then its red turbid waters, swelled by the contributions of numerous confluents and the drainings of the high watershed on either side, tore foaming between their high banks, carrying down drift-wood and trunks of trees in their swift pent-up course. But the bridge, a fine iron one, standing sixty feet from the bottom of the river to its parapet, rendered the transport-riders [carriers] absolutely independent of these floods, as has been said. Whether the stream was almost dry in its bed, or rolling down rocks and tree-stumps, mattered nothing to them now. Instead of the tedious delay of several days on the bank, and then the trouble and risk of crossing a bad, washed-out drift, their waggons rolled as gaily across the bridge as along the road, and they kept on their way as if there was no river there at all. Once or twice since the bridge had been built, the water had risen within a few feet of its roadway; but though an occasional prediction would be made that the river was capable of rising a great deal higher still, yet it had not done so. The bridge was of enormous strength, said they who were most concerned, and would stand against anything.
But now it seemed as if the predictions of disaster were going to be verified. For several days and nights it had rained incessantly; not a series of heavy deluging showers, but a steady, telling downpour. No break had occurred, not even a pause of ten minutes--rain, rain, rain, till people became as accustomed to the continuous fall upon their roofs of zinc or thatch as to the ticking of a clock--and the parched earth, now thoroughly soft and moistened, ran off the superfluous water in streams from every runnel and gully, which emptying themselves into the larger rivers, these in their turn came down in such force as to flood their banks, doing much and serious damage.
And the prospect before the two who sat there on their horses swathed from head to foot in long mackintoshes was, it must be allowed, sufficient justification for Thorman's retort. An expanse of tossing, swirling water lay in front, and in the middle of this stood the bridge, or rather all that could be seen of it, for its roadway lay at least a foot beneath the surface. The banks of the river were overflowed to some distance, and here it was comparatively smooth; but in the middle the mighty stream rushed on its way with a dulling and ever deafening roar, rolling its huge red waves; curling, hissing, splas.h.i.+ng; now heaving up a great tree-stump which, tossing for a moment, and leaping half out like a live thing, disappeared again in the boiling depths; now floating down the carcase of an ox or half-a-dozen drowned sheep.
Against the bridge lay jammed an acc.u.mulation of drift-wood and logs, which groaned and grated with half-human shriek as the fierce current hurled itself continually upon the obstructing ma.s.s, which as yet it was unable to break through.
For sky, a pall of dark rain-cloud--heavy, opaque, and without a break anywhere--resting, in a regular line, low down upon the sides of the high hills on either side of the valley. Not a breath of wind to toss about the showers--nor, indeed, could the term shower apply. A downpour--straight, penetrating, and incessant. On the opposite bank of the river many waggons lay outspanned, their number augmenting as more kept on arriving in twos and fours from up-country, and the cracking of long whips, and the peculiar ”carrying” yells of their drivers, were borne through the roar of the flood in front. Though early in the afternoon it was dark and gloomy, and the great rolling river, its red, turbid, hissing surface covered with evidences of damage and destruction, the lowering sky, the oppressive and woe-begone aspect of the surroundings, made up a picture of indescribable weirdness and threatening grandeur. The elements were supreme; man was nowhere.
”Oh, hang it, Thorman,” went on Hicks, impatiently. ”You're not afraid of a little water? I must get home to-night, and it's now or never.”
The two had left some days earlier to attend a sale a good distance from home; for Hicks, as we have said, was an energetic fellow, and always alive to the main chance. The rain had just begun at the time they started; but they hadn't bargained for this.
”Well, one d.a.m.ned fool makes two d.a.m.ned fools. Come along then,”
growled Thorman. It would never do for it to be said he was afraid--and by a ”Britisher,” too.
”That's the sort, old _Baas_. I knew you were humbugging,” rejoined Hicks, heartily. He would have gone through more than the present undertaking, though that was no child's play, when he thought of the alternative--several days' weary waiting at the wretched little inn just left behind. Why, one evening of it would be too awful. But things gain or suffer by comparison, and now the comparison lay between this contingency and Seringa Vale, a cheerful room, a snug home circle, and-- Laura. So quite airily he prepared to risk his life, having persuaded his companion to follow his wise example.
A group of men stood at the water's edge exchanging speculations on the probable turn of affairs, for a few waggons, bound up-country, lay outspanned on this side, though the large majority, coming down country, were on the opposite bank. They eyed the two travellers inquiringly.
”I say, Mister,” said a tall fellow, with a beard the size of a peac.o.c.k's tail, falling over his chest. ”You're never going to try and get through, are you?”
”We are going to do just that,” growled Thorman.
”We are not going to try, but we are going to get through,” a.s.serted Hicks confidently.
”Well, I hope you may,” said the other, ”but take my advice and don't attempt it.”
”I'm going to attempt it, at any rate,” answered Hicks. ”Thanks all the same.”
”Much better not,” said another st.u.r.dy purveyor. ”Joe's right. There's nearly a yard of water on the bridge, and the thing's been cracking and groaning under all that drift-wood. It'll go any minute, I tell you. I wouldn't go across for fifty pound. Besides, you've got to get to it first, and there's a lot of water on either side. Better give it up.”
”Oh, I know the road all right, every inch of it,” was the reply. ”Come along, Thorman.”
Fortunately for them they did know the road, for on either side of it lay deep fissures and gullies, now, of course, all under water. To flounder into one of these would be just better than getting into the river itself. Still it would be extremely dangerous.
”Well, good-bye,” called out the men on the bank as the two went plas.h.i.+ng into the surging water. ”So long! We shall meet in the next world.”
A jest which contained more than half the truth for all the likelihood of their ever meeting again in this, and so its utterers knew, perhaps better than the two on whose ears it fell; yet the rough, venturesome life led by these men rendered them reckless and indifferent in the face of danger. They could jest with Death, with his grim hand put out before them.