The Border Boys Along the St. Lawrence. Goldfrap John Henry
notion of the wildness of the waters which were now hurtling the River Swallow forward like a stone out of a sling. Had he known what effect the drop in the river would have had upon the swirling waters, it is likely that he would have taken to the Canadian side on the return trip. But the voyage through the rapids, as has been said, always exhilarated him; and, besides, it was growing late, and the passage through the Gallops shortened the trip to Dexter Island materially.
He was thinking these things over, giving all the while an alert mind to the handling of the boat, when his attention was drawn to Malvin in the manner described. The man was apparently making no effort to use the search-light to find out the jagged outlines of the rock known as Big Nigger. Instead, he appeared to be making aimless sweeps on the water with the light, and not trying in the slightest to locate the chief menace of the Gallops.
“Malvin!” called Ralph sharply.
“Sir!” the man’s voice was steady and respectful.
“I told you to locate Big Nigger.”
“I’m trying to, sir.”
“Nonsense. You know as well as I do that the rock should lie off on the other side. We pass it to starboard. Why don’t you cast the light in that direction?”
“I will, sir. I quite forgot that for a minute, sir,” was the response, in the same respectful tones.
“Odd that you should forget it,” spoke Ralph, “when you have run these rapids scores of times! I don’t understand – ”
“Wow!”
The cry came from Hardware.
“Holy mackerel! Ralph!”
“Great Scott!”
Ralph spun the wheel over with every ounce of power at his command. The rapids strained and tore at the rudder frantically. It was as if they wished to aid and abet in the destruction of the River Swallow. For dead ahead of the craft had loomed suddenly a sinister, menacing object that had caused the wave of panic to sweep over the boys on the bridge of the motor boat.
Big Nigger Rock!
Revealed by the rays of the search-light as suddenly as if it had been thrust upward by an unseen hand from the bottom of the rapids, the black boulder that bore the name dreaded by rivermen had appeared.
“We’re goners!” The cry came from Malvin.
He threw off his coat, and Ralph noted with astonishment, even as excited as he was, that the man had on under that garment a life preserver!
But the boy had not a moment to ponder on this strange fact, although it looked almost as if Malvin knew, by some marvelous instinct, that something was going to happen and had prepared for it. All the boy’s energies just then were centered in one task: to keep the River Swallow from being shattered into kindling wood against the gleaming, spray-wet sides of the Big Nigger.
“Shut down on your port engine; come full speed ahead on your starboard!”
Ralph had seized the flexible speaking-tube and roared the command down it.
“Jump now!” he added, as Persimmons’ “Aye! aye!” came back to him.
It was the only chance of saving the River Swallow from annihilation. By stopping one propeller and coming ahead on the other, Ralph hoped to be able to aid the rudder enough to swing the River Swallow’s bow outward from the rock.
Malvin paused by the rail. He had apparently been in the act of casting himself into the waters that boiled and seethed alongside. But Ralph had no time to notice the man now. All that he had eyes to see was the towering black buttress of rock ahead of them, against which it appeared that nothing short of a miracle could save the River Swallow from being splintered.
Young Ware, white-faced and tense, stood by Ralph’s side. Like Ralph, he sensed the full measure of the danger confronting them. Yet it spoke volumes for his pluck that he did not utter a sound after that first startled exclamation had escaped him, when the Big Nigger swung into the search-light’s vivid circle of white light. As for Persimmons in the engine room, he knew that some emergency must be confronting them. Yet he did not dream of deserting his post. Then the young skipper’s voice came down the tube once more.
“Get on a life preserver and come on deck. Quick! It may be life or death!”
The River Swallow headed straight for the Big Nigger. Ralph, every nerve and muscle in his active body strained to the breaking point, exerted every effort at his command to stave off the apparently inevitable crash. He knew that he had done all he could to avert the disaster that threatened to be swift and annihilating. All that was left to do now was to await the issue. Suddenly a sharp exclamation escaped Persimmons’ lips, and an instant later it was echoed by the others whom the young engineer had joined on the bridge.
“She’s swinging out!”
It was true. Out of the grasp of the rapids a boy’s skill had snatched victory against what had appeared to be overwhelming odds.
The Gallops roared and screamed and threatened in a thousand voices. They danced and leaped like white teeth defrauded of their expected prey. For that time at least they were to be cheated of a harvest of disaster to which, in the years gone by, they had become accustomed as a regular toll on the part of those who braved their fangs.
The River Swallow’s bow, forced outward by the engines and the rudder, swerved slowly to port. The next instant, at racing speed, she shot by the Big Nigger, hurtled along like a helpless chip on the surface of the mad waters.
So closely did they shave disaster that, from the bridge, it would have been possible with extended fingers to touch the rough surface of the Big Nigger as they were swept by. The next moment the peril that had chilled the blood in their veins was behind them.
“And now for an explanation from Malvin,” spoke Ralph grimly. “I rather think that there is one coming.”
CHAPTER III
THE MYSTERIOUS GRAY NIGHT CRAFT
Perhaps Malvin, who had stood poised as if ready for a jump as they passed the Big Nigger, heard the boy. At any rate, as Ralph spoke, he turned.
“A terribly narrow escape that, sir,” he said.
Ralph told Persimmons to go below and attend to his engines before he replied. Then he turned on the man.
“Yes, a terribly narrow escape which might have ended in disaster for us all,” he said, with an emphasis that allowed no doubt as to his meaning. In case that Malvin had not fully understood him, he added:
“Malvin, your carelessness almost cost us all our lives.”
“My carelessness, sir!”
The man’s voice held an aggrieved tone. He tried to slip into his coat and cover the life jacket he wore.
“I said ‘your carelessness.’ I don’t care to use a harsher word. How did it happen, Malvin, that you wore a life jacket to-night?”
“A life jacket, sir?”
“Yes; the one you put on under your coat. Surely you did not have an intuition that we were going to be wrecked?”
Ordinarily a bright, lively lad, Ralph could be stern enough when he chose. His experiences out west and in old Mexico had broadened and developed the youth whom we first encountered on a visit to Jack Merrill’s ranch in search of the health he had almost lost by overstudy at Stonefell College.
Ralph was not that boy now. He was the stern questioner of a man whose recent actions had surely justified him in entertaining black suspicions of the fellow. For the first time Malvin hesitated as Ralph shot out the question about the life jacket.
“Oh, yes, sir. The life jacket, sir. Yes, you see – ”
His voice trailed off. But Ralph pressed him harder.
“Come, I am waiting for an explanation. If one is not forthcoming I shall inform my father of your conduct.”
“I