A night so dark that they could not distinguish each other by sight now mantled the river, and the heavens above continued pouring forth their unabated wrath. They might now have stolen away unknown to the besieger; but they had no longer the desire to do so. Confident that the animal could not keep its feet till morning, after the rough handling it had received, they resolved upon staying till it fell, and securing its fine tusks.
Two or three hours passed, and still the rain kept falling, though not quite so heavily as at first.
“I don’t like this sort of thing,” said Hendrik. “Swart and Cong, in the pits, could not have been much unhappier than we are. I should like to know if the enemy is still on guard. What do you say to our going off?”
“We mustn’t think of it,” counselled Arend. “Even if the elephant be gone, we cannot find our horses in such a dark night. If it be still waiting for us, we could not see it five paces off, while it might see us. We had better stay when we are till morning.”
“Your advice is good, Arend,” said Willem. I don’t believe that we have a gun among us that could be discharged; if attacked, as we are now, we should be defenceless.
Arend’s suggestion was adopted, and they resolved to remain upon the rock till morning.
During the night, the rain continued to pour, half drowning them in their exposed situation. The hours passed slowly and wearily. They began to have serious doubts of ever seeing day again; but it came at length.
Just as the first faint gleams of the aurora appeared in the east, they were startled by a sudden crashing among the branches of the tree, and the next moment, they saw the bridge by which they had reached the rock, in the act of being carried away by the current!
“Look out!” shouted Arend; “the tree is off. Keep clear of the branches, or we shall be swept along with it.”
All rushed together to the summit of the rock, reaching it just in time to avoid the danger thus indicated; and, in another moment, their communication with the main land was entirely cut off.
The dawn of day found them on an islet of stone, of such limited extent that there was barely standing-room for the three. The river, swollen by the flood, lipped close up to their feet, and was threatening to rise still higher. There was the prospect—not a very pleasant one—that they themselves might be carried off after their treacherous bridge.
The elephant was no longer a cause of the slightest anxiety. The means by which they might have placed themselves within the reach of that danger had been removed; and, like Prometheus, they were bound to a rock.
The banks on both sides were too high for them to effect a landing, even should they be able to stem the rapid current. All three could swim, and it might be possible for them to reach the shore by swimming down stream to some place where the banks were on a level with the water.
But to this method of getting out of their difficulty, there were several objections. Their guns would have to be left behind, and could not be recovered. A distant view of them lying upon the rock might be all they would ever have. To abandon their arms was a thing not to be thought of. Their hunting would be over for that expedition.
Besides, they were in a part of the river where the current was swift, turbulent, and strong. It would carry them down with irresistible force. The rapids were full of rough jagged rocks, against which their bodies might be crushed or lacerated; and the chances were that some of them might never succeed in reaching the shore in safety.
“And there is another reason why I don’t like taking this water trip,” said Hendrik. “I noticed yesterday, just as we came forward here, a couple of enormous alligators. In all likelihood, there are scores of them.”
“Then I say, stop where we are for the present,” said Arend. “Alligators are always hungry, and I don’t relish to be eaten by them.”
“I am not yet so hungry as to leave my roer behind me; therefore, I second your proposal,” said Groot Willem.
It was carried nemini dissentiente. They did stay where they were, but not very patiently. The sun ascended high into the heavens. Its beams seemed to have their focus on the spot where they were standing. They never remembered having experienced a day so hot, or one on which all felt so hungry. Hendrik and Arend became nearly frantic with the heat and the hunger, though Groot Willem still preserved a remnant of calmness.
“I wonder if that elephant is watching for us yet?” said he. “If so, he is what Swartboy calls Congo,—an ’ole fool! I’m sorry we can’t oblige him by paying him a visit, and rewarding him for his prolonged vigil.”
Willem’s attempt at being witty was intended to cheer his disconsolate companions. But it was a sad failure. Neither could reply to it even by a smile.
Chapter Twenty Two.
A Separation.
All day long did they stay on the islet of stone. They were no longer apprehensive of being swept away by the flood. They saw that it had reached its highest, but its subsidence had not yet commenced.
The sun was already in the zenith, hotter than ever, literally roasting them upon the rock. The situation was intolerable.
“Shall we have to stay here another night?” impatiently asked Hendrik.
“It looks deuced like it,” answered Willem.
“And to-morrow, what shall we do then?” inquired Arend. “There may be no better chance of getting off than there is now.”
“That is true,” said Willem. “We must think of some way of getting out of this disagreeable prison. Can any of you think of a plan?”
“I have a proposal to make,” said Hendrik. “Let one of us take to the water and look down stream for a landing-place. If he succeeds in reaching the bank in safety, he could come up again, and by swinging out one of those long climbing plants we see hanging to the trees, there would be some chance of the other two catching it. By that means we may get off.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” rejoined Arend; “but which of us is to run the risk of the swim. For my part, I’m quite willing to incur it.”
“There is certainly great danger,” said Hendrik; “but there is also danger of starvation if we stay here.”
“Quite true,” rejoined Arend. “But for my part, I would rather feed a crocodile than die of hunger myself. So I’m willing to risk the swim. If you don’t see me on the bank in three or four hours you may conclude that either the crocodiles have eaten me, or that I’ve been shattered among the rocks.”
The others would not listen to Arend’s self-sacrificing proposal; and for a time, it was debated among them, as to who should run the risk, each protesting what under other circumstances he would scarce have done,—that he was a better swimmer than either of the other two.
As each insisted on taking the peril upon himself,—and none of them would yield the point, a proposal was made to cast lots.
This was done; and Hendrik, the suggester of the plan, was the one chosen by fate to carry it into execution.
“I am glad of it,” said he, after the thing had been decided. “It is but just that I should be permitted to carry out my own proposal. So here goes!”
Hastily undressing himself, he shook hands with Arend and Willem, dropped into the flood, and was away with the rapidity of an arrow.
Anxiously the others gazed after him; but in less than three minutes, he was no longer under their eyes, the rough rapid current having carried him clean out of sight.
Two hours passed, which were spent by Arend and Groot Willem in, a state of anxious suspense. Two hours more and it became terrible.
“Night is fast approaching,” remarked Arend. “If Hendrik does not return before night, I shall swim after him.”
“Yes, we may as well, while we have the strength to do it,” answered Willem. “If you go, so will I. We shall start together. How long do you think we should wait?”
“Not much longer. Certainly within a mile, he ought to have found a place where he could land. That distance he must soon have made, at the rate he was travelling when he left us. He should return soon now, or never.”
Another hour passed and still no signs of Hendrik.
“Remain you, Willem,” proposed Arend, “and let me go alone.”
“No,” replied the great hunter; “we go together. I once thought that I should never abandon my gun as long as I lived; but it must be. We must not stay here any longer. I grow weaker every hour.”
The two were taking off their boots and preparing to enter the water, when their ears were saluted by the sound of a familiar voice.
Congo was seen upon horseback on the bank of the river, just opposite the rock.
“Nebber fear, baas Willem,” shouted he. “I come back by-’m-by.”
As he said this, he galloped away. The loud roar of an elephant proclaiming the cause of his sudden departure.
“O heavens!” exclaimed Arend. “How much longer must we stay here?”
“Until to-morrow, I expect,” answered Willem. “Congo cannot return to the camp and be back before to-morrow.”
“But do you think he will go off without trying to assist us?”
“Yes. What can he do alone? Nothing. He knows that, and has gone for help. Of himself, he could not kill the elephant; and even if it was not there, he could do nothing to get us off the rock.”
“The distance to the bank must be about twenty yards. Of course there is a way by which we may be got ashore; but it will require a rope. The climbing plants would do, but Congo has not noticed them. I believe that he understood at a glance the difficulties to be overcome, and has gone to the camp for assistance.”
“I hope so,” replied Arend, “and, if such be the case, we need not fear for ourselves. We have now only to endure the annoyance of waiting. My only anxiety is for Hendrik.”
Willem made no reply, but by his silence Arend could perceive that he had but little hope of ever seeing Hendrik gain.
Slowly the sun went down and the night once more descended over the rolling river. Their anxiety would not allow them to sleep, even had they not been hindered by hunger. Of water they had a plentiful supply,—too much of it,—although this was not obtained without some difficulty, as they had to dip it up in one of their powder-flasks, emptied for the purpose.
Another morning dawned, and the sun made his appearance,—again red and fiery,—his beams becoming fiercer as he ascended the cloudless sky.
They had but a few hours more to wait until they might expect the return of the Kaffir; but would he surely come? They knew that travelling in Africa was a very uncertain business. Their present position was proof that some accident might occur to hinder him from reaching the camp.
By this time they were almost certain that some serious misfortune, perhaps death itself, had befallen Hendrik.
As if to confirm them in this belief, just then three large crocodiles were seen swimming around the rock, lingering there, as though they expected ere long to get their sharp teeth into the flesh of those who stood upon it.
The great hunter became angered at the sight. It suggested the probable fate of their companion, as it might, in time, be their own. He seized hold of his roer, and, drawing the damp charge, freshly loaded the gun. Aiming at the eye of one of the hideous monsters, he pulled trigger.
The loud report was followed by a heavy plunging in the water, and the behaviour of the crocodile gave evidence of the correctness of the hunter’s aim.
After springing bodily above the surface, it fell back again, and commenced spinning around, with a velocity that threw showers of spray over those, who stood watching its death-struggles.
Its two companions retreated down the river, and, as the brothers saw them depart, the thoughts of both were dwelling upon the same subject.
Both were thinking of Hendrik! We also must go down stream, and see what has become of him.
Chapter Twenty Three.
From Bad to Worse.
On finding himself in the water as he parted from his companions, Hendrik had not much exertion to make.
A gentle motion of the limbs sustained him on the surface, and he was borne onward with a velocity that promised a speedy termination of his voyage.
Some place must soon be reached where the banks would be low enough to be ascended, and the current not too quick to hinder him from crossing to the shore. He was spirited past several rocks, one of which he only avoided with great difficulty, so swiftly did the current carry him along.
When about a mile from his companions, as he supposed himself, he saw that the banks on both sides were shelving and he tried to reach the shore.
The current was still rapid as ever, and for each foot made in the direction of the land, he was borne several yards down the channel of the stream.
The velocity with which he was moving awoke in his mind a vague sense of a danger not thought of before starting, and altogether different from those that had been taken into calculation. His voyage, so far, had been successful. He had escaped unharmed by rocks or crocodiles; but he had evidence that a danger, as much, if not more to be dreaded, now threatened him. The water seemed gliding down an inclined plane, so rapidly was it sweeping him on; and beyond this, directly before him, he could hear the roaring of a cataract! What had been at first only a conjecture, soon became a certainty. He was going at arrow-like speed towards the brow of a waterfall. Throwing all his energies into the effort, he struggled to reach the shore at a point where the bank was accessible.
He had nearly succeeded. Ten feet nearer, and he would have been able to grasp the o’erhanging bushes. But that distance, little as it was, could not be accomplished, and on he glided towards the engulfing fall.
On the brink of the water-precipice he saw the sharp point of a rock jutting about three feet above the water. More by good luck, than any guidance on his part, he came within reach of it as he was hurried onward. Reaching out, he caught hold; and hugging it with both arms, he was able to retain his hold. His body was swung around to the leeward of the rock, until his legs hung dangling over the fall. Although the force of the current was partly broken by the interposition of the rock, it required him to exert all his strength to save himself from being washed over. After a time, he succeeded in gaining a footing. There was a little ledge on the rock just large enough for one foot, while the other sought support on the pointed apex. To have attempted to swim ashore could only end in his destruction. Though almost within leaping distance of the bank, he had no place to spring from, and to have fallen short, would have been fatal. He could do nothing but remain as he was.
Hours passed, and the torture of standing in one position irksome at that, became unbearable. He could only obtain rest by getting into the water again and hugging the rock with both arms as he had done before. But this method of resting himself, if such it could be called, could not be endured longer than two or three minutes, and he was compelled soon to return to the upright attitude.
