Randall Parrish - Prisoners of Chance

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"Where, then?"

"Back, of course. To drift down-stream will be easy now we know
something of the current. We return to the junction of the rivers,
where we left the Spaniards--'tis hardly probable they are still there;
but if they are, then we must trust to our stout arms, and have faith
in the right.------ By heavens! Cairnes, what mean you? Damme, man,
would you overturn the boat?"

This hasty word of expostulation had hardly left my lips before the
Puritan scuttled clumsily overboard, his red hair cropping out of the
seething water like a rare growth of fungus. Another instant, and the
full shock of that racing current struck our bow, hurling it about as
if the trembling boat were an eggshell. Over him we went, his pudgy
fingers digging vainly for some holding-place along the slippery
planks, his eyes staring up in terror.

"For God's sake, cling tight, Eloise!"

I heard this shout of warning from De Noyan as he fell backward into
the water, which, luckily, was scarcely above his waist. Helpless to
prevent the plunge, I joined company at the bow, going down well over
my head without finding footing, and coming to the surface face to face
with the Puritan, who was spluttering out river water and scraps of
Calvinistic speech, striving madly to lay hold on some portion of the
boat, now spinning away on the swift flood. It was no time to seek
explanation from any man wrathful as Cairnes appeared to be, so I
devoted my attention to doing the one thing left us,--keeping the crazy
craft upright to save Madame and the cargo. Nor was this an easy task.
Seldom have I breasted such angry, boiling surge as beat against
us--there was no fronting it for those of us beyond our depths, while
even De Noyan, making a manful struggle, was forced slowly back into
deeper water, where he floundered helpless as the rest. It spun us
about like so many tops, until I heard a great crunching of timbers,
accompanied by a peculiar rasping which caused my heart to stop its
pulsation. All at once the heavy bow swung around. Caught by it, I
was hurled flat against the face of a black rock, and squeezed so
tightly between stone and planking I thought my ribs must crack.

It was then I noted Cairnes, struggling just beyond me, reaching
backward with his foot until he found purchase against the stone, then
lifting his great crop to gaze about, sweeping the moisture from his
eyes. He braced one mighty shoulder against the boat's side, with such
a heave as I never supposed lay in the muscles of any man; swung that
whole dead weight free of the rock, and ere the dancing craft, we
clinging desperately to it, had made two circles in the mad boiling, I
felt my feet strike bottom, and stood upright, ready to do my share
again.

"Are you safe, Madame?" I questioned anxiously, for I could see no
signs of her presence from where I stood, and she uttered no sound.

"I am uninjured," she returned, "but the boat takes water freely. I
fear a plank has given way."

"_Parbleu_!" sputtered De Noyan, with a great sound of coughing. "So
have I taken water freely. _Sacre_! I have gulped down enough of the
stuff to last me the remainder of life."

"Hold your wit until we are safe ashore, Monsieur," I commented
shortly, for as I stood the strain was heavy on my arms. "Push toward
the right, both of you, or the boat will sink before we can beach her;
she takes water like a sieve."

We slowly won our way backward, the effort requiring every pound of our
combined strength, De Noyan and I tugging breathlessly at the stern,
the sectary doing yeoman service at the bow. Yet the effort told,
bringing us into quieter water, although we upbore the entire weight of
the boat on our shoulders after we made firm footing. The water poured
in so rapidly Madame was for going overboard also, but we persuaded her
to remain. Anyway, we drove the prow against the bank at last, and, as
I rested, panting from exertion, I observed the others dragging
themselves wearily ashore, Cairnes was a sight, with his great mat of
red hair soaked with black mud, which had oozed down over his face, so
as to leave it almost unrecognizable. He shook himself like a shaggy
water-dog after a bath, flinging himself down full length with a growl.
De Noyan fared somewhat better, coming ashore with a smile, even
trolling the snatch of a song as he climbed the bank, but his gay
military cap, without which, jauntily perched upon one side of his
head, I had scarcely before seen him, had gone floating down-stream,
and the fierce upward curl of his long moustachios had vanished. They
hung now limp, leaving so little _a la militaire_ in his appearance
that I had to smile, noting the look of surprise in Madame's eyes as he
gallantly assisted her to the dry grass, before flinging himself flat
for a breathing spell.

"God guide us!" I exclaimed, so soon as I could trust myself to speak.
"This is a hard ending to all our toil, nor do I understand how it came
about."

"_Sacre_!" commented De Noyan, glancing across at the fellow. "It
looked to me as if yonder canting preacher either was taken with a fit,
or sought to make ending here of two papists."

I turned to face the grim-faced sectary, still too thoroughly winded by
his late exertions to try the lift of a Psalm.

"See here, sirrah," I began angrily in English, "perhaps you will
explain what sort of a Connecticut trick you attempted to play there in
the current?"

He twisted his narrow eyes in my direction, apparently studying the
full meaning of my words before venturing an answer.

"I know not what you mean, friend," he returned at last, in that deep
booming voice of his. "Did I not perform my work with the best of ye?"

"Ay, you were man enough after we went overboard, but why, in the name
of all the fiends, did you make so foul a leap, bringing us into such
imminent peril?" The gleam of his eyes was no longer visible, but I
marked the rise of his great shoulders, his voice rumbling angrily,
like distant thunder, as he made reply.

"Why did I make the leap, you unregenerated infidel, you thick-headed
heretic? Why did I? Better were I to ask why you ran the boat's nose
into that bubbling hell. Why did I? What else saved us losing every
pound we carried, together with the woman, you cock-eyed spawn of the
devil, only that Ezekiel Cairnes possessed sufficient sense to throw
himself in the way, upbearing the bulk of the strain? The water was
somewhat deeper than I supposed, and my feet found no bottom, yet 't
was the best thing to do, and the only hope of steadying the boat.
Better for you and that grinning papist yonder to be on your knees
thanking the Almighty He sent you a man this day, than lie there like
so many hooked cods, gasping for breath with which to abuse one of the
Lord's anointed. Yet 'tis but righteous judgment visited upon me for
consorting with papists and unbelievers."

Feeling the possible justice of his claim I hastened to make amends to
the wrathful and worthy man.

"You may be right," I admitted slowly. "Certainly we will return
thanks for deliverance each in his own way. As for me, I greatly
regret having mistrusted your act. Perhaps it was best, yet I think we
have small chance ever to use this boat again. It appears badly
injured. However, we must await daylight to note the damage. In the
meantime, let us make shift to camp; a hot fire will dry our limbs and
clothing, and put us in better humor for the morrow."

CHAPTER XVIII

A HARD DAY'S MARCH

The dawn came with rosy promise of a fair day, a frost lying white over
the grass-land, sufficient nip in the air to stir the blood. Before
the others were aroused I examined the boat, which rested high in the
mud where we had heaved it the evening previous. The cruel rent in the
solid planking was such as to afford little hope of our ever being able
to repair it. How the accident occurred I did not rightly comprehend,
but we had been cast ashore on the western bank of that swift
maelstrom. In the light of dawn, I gazed forth upon the whirlpool
extending between the rock against which we had struck and the bank
where I stood, in speechless wonder at the miracle of our rescue.
Standing there in silence broken only by the wild tumult of the waters,
I thought of Eloise tossed helpless in their merciless grip, and bowed
my head humbly above the shattered boat, offering up a heartfelt
petition. I was not in those days a man of prayer, yet the germ of my
father's robust faith was ever in my blood, and love teaches many a
good lesson. Certainly I felt better within my own heart for that
instant of communion under the paling stars.

My head was yet bowed over the gunwale when the heavy footsteps of the
Puritan sounded close at hand. I could not fail to remark a softness
in his deep voice as he spoke, resting one hand upon my shoulder.

"Thou knowest not, friend Benteen, how it gladdens my old heart to find
thee before the throne of grace. I fear thou art not greatly
accustomed to look up unto God in time of trouble, yet doing so can
never weaken thy arm for the moment of trial. Acknowledge the Lord of
Hosts, nor dream thou wilt ever prove less of a man because thy heart
responds to His many mercies."

"You speak truly," I returned soberly, feeling a new respect for him in
that hour. "There is no better way in which to start the day; and,
unless my eyes deceive me, this bids fair to prove a day of sore trial.
Have you looked to the damage done the boat?"

"Nay," he returned earnestly, bending low to examine the rent. "I
slept like a man in drink, and even now am scarcely well awakened. 'T
is, indeed, a serious break, friend; one, I fear, which will prove
beyond our remedying."

"Have you skill with tools?"

"It is one of my gifts; yet of what use in the wilderness where tools
are not to be found? However, I will see what may be done, after we
break our fast--there is little accomplished working on an empty
stomach."

It was a morning of sorrowful labor; from the beginning a perfectly
hopeless one. The planking had been so badly crushed that a portion
was actually ground into powder, leaving a great gaping hole. To patch
this we possessed no tool to shape the wood properly, or, indeed, any
wood to shape, except the seats of the oarsmen. Nor did we possess
nails. More than one expedient was resorted to with bits of canvas,
wooden pegs, or whatsoever else we could lay hands upon, but our
efforts resulted each time in sickening failure. At last, long before
the sun had attained the zenith, the old preacher looked up,
disappointment written on every line of his rough face, to say grimly:

"We waste toil, friends; the boat floats no more for all our labors.
Nor do I deem it the will of the Lord we longer continue to wear
ourselves out in vain effort to undo His work."

He wiped the beads of perspiration from his low forehead, pushing his
hand through his matted hair.

"Were it not for the woman," he added more cheerfully, "the accident
would not be so bad either. I am cramped by long boat service, and
would welcome a stiff tramp to loosen out the joints of my legs."

I glanced across uneasily at Madame, for we were all seated on the
grass in the sunshine, but could perceive nothing except encouragement
in the clear depths of her brave eyes.

"Fear nothing on my account," she said quietly, instantly reading my
thoughts as if my face were an open book. "I am strong, and shall not
greatly mind the walking."

"At least you are strong of heart," I returned gravely. "But such a
trip as now lies before us will test your power of endurance greatly.
Yet what must be done is best done quickly, and there are unpleasant
memories clustering about this spot, making me anxious to leave it
before another night. Let each one speak frankly his thought as to our
future course, so we may choose the route aright. De Noyan, you are a
soldier, accustomed to places of difficulty and peril. What would you
suggest?"

He was lying flat upon his back, hands clasped beneath his head, puffs
of white smoke from his pipe curling lazily up into the blue sky; nor
did he remove the stem from between his lips as he made easy answer.

"Faith, man, my service on campaign has ever been with the horse; nor
am I fond of using my own limbs for travelling. It would be far
easier, I think, to knock up the old boat here; then, with whatsoever
else we might find in this God-forsaken wilderness, construct some sort
of raft to upbear our company, and so drift down with the stream.
_Parbleu_! it would be a relief from those cursed oars. If the load be
too heavy, the preacher can be left behind; 't would be small loss."

"Your plan sounds bravely in words, Chevalier, but were we to attempt
it, we should soon find ourselves in more serious stress than now,--ay!
before we had covered the first day's journey. My Calvinistic friend,
what advice have you for our guidance?"

The sectary's eyes were fastened upon the ragged line of hills at our
back, and for the moment he made no response, his seamed face grave
with thought.

"How far, Master Benteen," he queried finally, "do you make it from
here to the mouth of this river?"

"Not much short of sixty leagues," I answered, after a bit of thinking.
"The stream bends and twists so it is difficult to judge the true
distance."

"It was a grievous journey," he admitted with a groan, "one I care not
to travel again, unless it be revealed plainly to me as the will of the
Lord. I name the distance full seventy leagues. What has been the
main direction of our course?"

"To north of west."

"Ay! Are we, think you, thirty leagues to northward of where we left
the Spaniards?"

"I should say yes, maybe ten leagues more."

"I doubt the extra ten, but even at thirty it would be foolishness to
retrace all that hard-won distance merely for the sake of keeping in
sight of this muddy stream, the very water of which is unfit for
Christian stomach, and of no value otherwise. 'Tis my vote we strike
directly east and north, following as straight a trail as possible
until we find the great river. It should be as easy travelling as
along this bank, and will bring us out above the Spanish lines of
guard."

I know not how long I sat there gazing silently into his impassive
leathern face, turning over within my own mind the argument of his
words. He was neither woodsman nor mountaineer, yet possessed some
judgment. Thus considering, I saw but one possible objection to his
plan--lack of water or of game along the unknown route to be traversed.
But serious scarcity of either was hardly to be expected at this season
among the mountains, while the weary leagues of southing thus saved
would make no small difference in the length and time of our journey.

"It appears to me our best hope," I admitted candidly. "It will
involve clambering over rocks, yet yonder range does not appear high,
nor of a width to keep us long in its shadow; besides, the lower
reaches of this river are marshy leagues upon leagues, and to my mind
walking will be easier if we take higher ground. It is all guesswork
at the best. We know how impassable the trail will be below, and, even
if we retrace our steps down the river, we shall have to make a wide
detour to cross this mad stream. But wait; we have heard no word from
Madame de Noyan."

She also was looking upon those cool, blue hills, apparently close at
hand, but turned instantly at my addressing her, making quick and
confident answer.

"My word is only this, Geoffrey Benteen: you are a woodsman, better
capable of such decision than any woman whose life has been lived
within the town. I go cheerfully wheresoever your choice lies."

It has ever been a source of strength to me to be thoroughly trusted by
some other, and I instantly arose to my feet, feeling a new man under
the inspiration of these heartsome words.

"Then that matter is decided," I announced, a ring of confidence in my
voice. "We will break bread once more, and then commence our journey."

"_Sacre_!" ejaculated the Captain, yet lolling upon his back, "if it be
like that same biscuit I had an hour since, breaking it will prove no
small matter."

The blazing sun stood an hour low in the west when we divided our small
stock of necessaries so as to transport them, and, with merely a last
regretful glance at the damaged boat which had been our home so long,
turned our faces hopefully toward those northern hills, commencing a
journey destined to prove for more than one a trip unto death. God's
way is best, and there is a noble purpose in it all; for had we that
day been enabled to view the future, not a single step would we have
taken, nor should I have had in my memory a tale worthy of being
written down.

I led the little company, bearing rifle in hand, keeping vigilant
outlook for game; De Noyan followed, where he might easily afford aid
to his wife if she required the strength of his arm along the rough
path; while the old Puritan, grumbling ever to himself, lumbered along
well in the rear, although we were careful to keep within speaking
distance of each other. We traversed a gently rising slope of grass
land, with numerous rocks scattered over its surface, keeping as close
as possible along the bank of the brawling stream, that we might make
use of its narrow valley through the rocky bluffs, which threatened to
bar our passage. These were no great distance away, so a steady
gait--I set the pace slow not to distress Madame, who was cramped from
long sitting within the boat--brought us in an hour to where our
narrowing path was overhung and darkened by the closing in of gloomy
mountain heights upon either side. It had an awesome look, like the
yawning mouth of a cave, opening to intense darkness and mysterious
danger. I saw a look almost of terror in Madame's eyes as she gazed,
yet her lips uttered no protest, and I flung aside a desire to shrink
back, with a muttered curse at my own folly. Saint Andrew! it is odd
how superstition grips the best of us. Those rock walls, binding us
within their scant confines as in a prison, were not particularly
precipitous or high, yet our way was sufficiently perilous, leading
along a contracted defile, the merest chasm, indeed, steep cliffs
rising sheer on either side, merely the raging stream and a ribbonlike
path between. The slight expanse of sky above was blue and clear, but
it was sombre and gloomy enough down in that black hollow, where we
made difficult progress amid loose bowlders.

Where this snake-like ravine widened out slightly we made choice for
our first camp. We reached there near the sunset hour, although the
sun itself had utterly vanished from our view long before, and we moved
forward amid a semi-darkness most depressing. On the spot selected the
towering wall of rock on our side of the little river overhung
sufficiently to form a comfortable shelter at its base. I had a goodly
supply of fresh pine boughs strewn so as to form a soft bed, while the
Puritan busied himself gathering together ample materials for a fire,
the reflected light of which caused the deep chasm where we rested to
appear more gloomy than before, while scurrying night clouds closed us
in as if imprisoned within a grave.

That evening was not devoted to much conversation. We were alike
wearied from our long tramp, heavy-hearted, and strangely depressed by
the desolate gloom of the rock cavern in which we lay. Even De Noyan
yielded to this spirit of brooding and, after a faint effort at forced
gayety, crept silently to his sleeping-place. The other two were not
long in following him. I was thus left alone to keep the first watch
of the night. Four lonelier, more miserable hours I do not remember
serving at the call of duty. The round moon crept slowly through the
black sky, until its soft, silvery beams rested, brighter than daylight
had been in that gorge, in glowing radiance along the surface of the
smooth, gleaming wall opposite, yet merely succeeded in rendering more
weird and uncanny the sombre desolation. The night wind arose, causing
the shadows of clinging pines to sway back and forth like spectral
figures, while a solemn silence, awesome in its intensity, brooded over
all, broken only by the noise of tumbling water, with occasional
rasping of boughs against the face of the cliff. The fire died away
into a few red embers, occasionally fanned into uncertain flame by
breaths of air sucked up the gorge. By the time my guard ended I was
so thoroughly unstrung that each flitting glimpse of deeper shadow
tempted me to fire.

It was at midnight, or as close to that hour as I was capable of
judging, when I aroused De Noyan and crawled into his place on the bed
of boughs. I lay there watching him a brief space, as he walked over
to the stream and plunged his face into the cool water. The last I
recall previous to dropping off into deep slumber was how large his
shadow loomed, silhouetted in the bright moonshine against a huge black
bowlder directly in my front.

I know not the hour, yet I noted, even in awakening, that the moon had
already passed from out the narrow ribbon of sky above, although still
fringing in silver beauty the sharp summit of the crest, when a quick,
nervous pressure upon my arm awoke me with a start of alarm. Lying at
full length, his head uplifted, was De Noyan.

"Keep still, Benteen," he whispered, his voice vibrant with excitement,
"and look yonder. In the name of all the fiends, what is that?"

CHAPTER XIX

DEMON, OR WHAT?

I have been free from superstitious terror as most men, yet there were
few in those days who did not yield to the sway of the supernatural.
Occasionally, among those of higher education, there may have been
leaders of thought who had shaken off these ghostly chains of the dark
ages, seeking amid the laws of nature a solution for all the seeming
mysteries in human life. Yet it could scarcely be expected a plain
wood-ranger should rise altogether above the popular spell which still
made of the Devil a very potent personality.

Consequently, as my anxious eyes uplifted toward the spot where De
Noyan pointed, it need be no occasion for wonder that my blood turned
to ice in my veins, and I felt convinced I looked upon His Satanic
Majesty. The vast wall of rock, arising a sheer hundred feet directly
opposite to where we lay, appeared densely black now in the shadow, but
as my glance swept higher along its irregularity, the upper edge,
jagged from outcropping stones, stood clearly revealed in the full
silver sheen of the moon, each exposed line, carven as from marble,
standing distinctly forth in delicate tracery against the background of
the night sky.

Appearing to my affrighted eyes the gigantic form of two men strangely
merged into one, there uprose on that summit a figure so odd, weird,
and grimly fantastic, it was small wonder I gazed, never thinking it
could be other than the Evil One. It was unclothed from head to heel,
and, gleaming ghastly white beneath the moonbeams, it brought no Indian
suggestion to mind. High above the head, causing the latter to appear
hideously deformed, arose something the nature of which I could not
rightly judge. It reminded me of a vast mat of hair sticking directly
upward, ever waving back and forth to the breath of the night wind.
Nor did this horrid figure remain one moment still. There upon the
very edge of the precipice, it would leap high into the air, flinging
aloft long gaunt arms, even appearing to float bodily forth into the
space above us, to disappear instantly, like some phantom of
imagination, amid the shrouding gloom of those rock shadows--flitting
swiftly, and as upon wings, along the crest; now showing directly in
our front, looming like a threatening giant, mocking with wild, furious
gestures; then dancing far to right or left, a vague shade in the
sheen, a mere nothing in the shadow, yet ever returning, the same
weird, unnatural, spectral figure, wildly gyrating upon the air,
leering down upon our speechless misery.

My eyes, wide-opened by terror, followed these movements, marking this
ghastly shape. I listened vainly for the slightest sound to connect it
with aught human. The mantle of the night's solemn silence, the dread
stillness of wilderness solitudes, rested everywhere. I heard the
mournful sighing of the wind amid jagged rocks and among the swaying
branches of the cedars; the dull roar of the little river, even the
stentorian breathing of the Puritan lying asleep behind us, but that
was all. That hideous apparition dancing so madly along the cliff
summit emitted no sound of foot or voice--yet there it hung, foreboding
evil, gesticulating in mockery; a being too hideous for earth, ever
playing the mad antics of a fiend.

My gaze rested questioningly upon De Noyan's upturned face, and saw it
ghost-like in lack of color, drawn and haggard. Mine no doubt was the
same, for never have I felt such uncontrollable horror as that which,
for the moment, fairly paralyzed me in brain and limb. It is the
mysterious that appals brave men, for who of earth might hope to
struggle against the very fiends of the air?

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