By Blow and Kiss
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Scottie yelled and braced himself, and lay back hauling on the reins, and Steve edged back past his horse to help.
The fallen horse struggled wildly, but it slipped further, and its haunches slid over till its hind legs were dangling clear. Even then it hung on its chest and forelegs on the path, and its hind legs hammering and scraping at the cliff face. It slid again, despite Scottie’s efforts, and as Steve grabbed at the reins, it still slid slowly. They had to let go or go over with it, and the horse slid again, with starting eyeballs and quivering nostrils. Then it vanished with a blood-curdling scream, that shut off suddenly. The men heard the body crash on the stones below, and then silence except for the brawling of the river and the rush of the rain.
Steve dashed the rain from his eyes and ran back to his horse. “Follow on, Scottie,” he called. “It isn’t far.”
When he rode off the Fly-on-a-Wall and out on to the crest of the last hill that overlooked the river and the township, he caught for the first time the full, deep, sullen roar of the flooded river. He halted and strained his eyes into the darkness, and then with an oath flung down the hillside, slithering, plunging, and spattering, till he came to the water, and realised with a sudden swirl of fear that it was right over the banks.
But he could see the gleam of the light on the end of the bridge, and drove desperately for that, and came through to it, this time without swimming, although the water rose to his saddle-flaps as he rode.
The bridge was built on trestles, and rested on high banks on both sides of the river, but the water was a bare six foot below the planks of the roadway, and, with a sinking heart, he knew that this meant that there would be little or none of the high ground left uncovered on the flats of Coolongolong.
For the first time that night he began to despair; but the game was not played out yet, he told himself grimly, and spurred a last gallop out of his staggering horse, and pounded up the rise of the bank and on to the hotel, to gather what news of the flood he might.
He found Dan the trooper there, and a little gathering of townsfolk. The river was rising inches every hour they told him, and they were beginning to fear it would come over the higher bank on the township’s side, as it had done on the other. The flats for twenty to thirty miles back from the river would be flooded on the Coolongolong side, but on the other bank the ground was higher, and none of it was covered yet.
“There’s a man and a girl in a buggy somewhere out there on our flats,” said Steve, “and I’m going to ride up the east bank and swim for it across to the highest ground on the other side. Who can let me have a horse?”
“Steve,” said the trooper, “it’s mad ye are surely. Ye’d have fifteen or twenty mile to swim before ever you struck ground. There’s deep water for all that distance back, an’ the river itsilf is comin’ down boilin’ like a potato pot an’ runnin’ strong as a steamer. Let be, lad, let be. Ye can do nothing.”
“A boat,” said Steve, eagerly. “Is there a boat to be had?”
“There’s a boat or two belongin’ to the township here,” said Dan; “but there’s no boat’s crew that iver pulled a stroke could make head up against that current.”
Steve knew that he was right, and he groaned. “I can’t stand idle here while they drown,” he said. “They’ll be on the high ground, if any of it’s uncovered, and the water creeping up on them. I’ll ride up the bank and swim for it, as I thought first.”
“There used to be a boat up at Battle Creek,” said one of the townsmen. “You might ride to there and get it, and make over the river.”
Steve turned to him eagerly. “Good,” he said eagerly. “That’s the best I’ve heard this night. Will there be oars in her?”
“She belongs to Seaman Dick West,” said the man, “and he’s sure to have everything for her. He’s workin’ up at the Creek, an’ keeps the boat for crossin’ or goin’ after the duck.”
“I’ll be off,” said Steve, “at once, if anyone can loan me a horse.”
“Come up and have a bite an’ a sup o’ hot tay at the house, Steve,” said the trooper. “Sure, the missus’ll bate me black if I let ye go widout that.”
“I can’t, Dan,” said Steve, earnestly. “While I’m eating, she might be drowning that very minute. The food would choke me.”
“Ye can have my horse,” said a man. “Come wi’ me an’ bring yer saddle. Ye can leave ’im at the Creek, for the flood will bring ye down back to hereabouts, I suppose, an’ you’ll not be gettin’ back for im.”
Steve went with him at once, and ten minutes later was cantering hard out of the town.
The road was soft, but level and fairly good, and he kept the horse at a hard canter, and sometimes at a gallop, almost all the way, only pulling him down to a walk to breathe him at long intervals. He was in a fever of impatience, and kept peering out into the darkness towards the river. The growling mutter of the waters came up to him, and the hiss and beat of the rain, but no other sound, and he struck the spurs in again and scurried on.
A light was burning in the house at Battle Creek Station, and at the sound of his horse’s hoof-beats a door opened and a man stood framed in the light. Steve rode up to him and flung the reins over his horse’s head and leaped down.
“You have a boat somewhere here?” he said. “I want to borrow it, please. There is a man and a girl out on the Coolongolong flats and – ”
“God help them,” said the man. “But take the boat an’ welcome. I’m Dick West, an’ I’ll just let the boss know, an’ come an’ get the oars an’ things. Put your saddle in the shed, and you’ll find a feed for the horse in the box there. Then come over here an’ I’ll be ready.”
Steve hurried off with the mud-splashed weary horse, and fed him, and was back in five minutes, and found Seaman Dick waiting for him with a suit of oilskins on, a coil of rope and pair of rough oars over his shoulder, and a puffing pipe in his mouth, with the bowl turned upside down.
“I thought you wouldn’t wait for tea,” he said. “You seemed sort o’ drivin’ ’er, or I’d ’ave asked you before.”
“No, thanks, nothing,” said Steve. “It may be touch and go with them every minute.”
“Heave ahead then, mate – this way,” said Dick, and led the way down to the Creek.
“There’s a lamp an’ matches in the locker aft,” he said, when they came to the boat, and he had flung the oars aboard. “Light it while I unmoor ’er.”
Steve lit the lamp, and shipped the straight-bladed oars, and took his seat waiting for the man to shove him off. Seaman Dick flung the boat’s chain in the bow, stepped to the stern and shoved off, and stepped neatly aboard.
“You’re not coming with me?” said Steve, in some surprise.
“I thought I was,” said Seaman Dick, coolly. “Reckon a man that’s used to a boat may be some use to you.”
“More use than I am,” said Steve, and thanked him warmly.
“I know there’s a bit of risk about it,” he said, “but I’ll make it up to you if the boat’s damaged, or for the use of her.”
“You can buy me a drink when we get to the township,” said Dick, lightly. “We’ll need it if we get there. An’ we won’t need it if we don’t, for we’ll have had all the drinks we’ll want – o’ flood water. But you’d better let me take the oars across the current. I’m maybe more used to ’em than you, an’ will make more headway.”
They changed places, and Dick rowed steadily down the Creek until they came to the river.
“Now, stan’ by,” he said. “Don’t move if anything bumps us. There’ll be some wreckage runnin’ down, but we’ll dodge that. An’ out we go.”
He pulled lustily, and the boat shot out into the stream, twisted as the current caught her, and went forging slowly across and rapidly sweeping sideways downstream.
“The dawn,” said Seaman Dick, and Steve turned in the seat astern and looked at the dim grey in the sky behind him.
CHAPTER XXII
“Dolly, it won’t be long now, will it?” said Ess, trying to hold her voice steady.
He tried to answer hopefully. “You never know. It might stop rising any minute, and start to drop five minutes after.”
“Couldn’t we tie the buggy to the tree?” she asked. “It would float, wouldn’t it, and support us?”
“It might,” he said doubtfully. “But, anyhow, we can try. But what are we – wait a minute,” he jumped to his feet excitedly. “What an ass I was not to think of it! What did I do with the harness – yes, here it is.”
He stooped and dragged out the tangled leather from under their feet. “And I left the reins tied to the wheel when I slipped the horses. We might manage to scale the tree yet.”
He disentangled the traces, and leaned over and untied the reins and knotted them together, working with shaking fingers and in feverish haste.
He stood up in the buggy seat and whirled the looped coils of leather, and threw them high for the fork of the tree above them. He missed the first few times, or the coils caught and hung there till he jerked them back, but at last they curled over the fork and fell to the other side of the tree. Dolly jumped down and went wading round, and leaped and caught the end of the trace. “Hold that end, Miss Ess,” he said, “and stand up and catch this one if you can.”
He swung the end round to her, and she caught and held it while he climbed the buggy. He stood on the seat again and knotted the far end in a loop, and passed the other end through it and hauled taut till it jambed on the branch above, took a couple of turns of the free end round the wheel, and told Ess to hold on. “And up I go,” he said. “And then I’ll haul while you climb, and we’ll lash ourselves to the mast and hang on till the flood goes where it jolly well pleases. Hup,” and he sprang and commenced to climb hand over hand with his feet against the trunk.
“See how it’s done,” he called down breathlessly, when he reached the fork and sat astride it. “Easy as walking upstairs. Now untwist your end and pass it two or three times round your waist, and tie a firm knot – half-a-dozen knots. Have you done that?”
“Wait a minute,” she called back. “Yes – all right.”
“Now twist the loops round, so the knot comes fair to the front, and reach far up as you can and grab with both hands, and climb as much as you are able. Now – go.”
She tried to imitate the way he had put his feet against the trunk, but they slipped, and she bumped into the tree, bruising her knuckles and forcing a cry. “Climb,” shouted Dolly. She struggled, and Dolly strained and hauled, but the weight was too much, and he had to slack her down the two or three feet she had climbed.
“You are a lively weight, you know,” he called down laughingly, but with a feeling of dismay.
“What will I do next?” she answered. “You can never lift me that height, I know, and I simply can’t climb.”
Dolly sat and racked his brains for a minute. “Well?” she called, and looking down he could just see her in the dim light standing with face upturned to him.
“Wait a bit,” he said. “I’m coming down again. Untie yourself and hang on to your end.”
He unfastened the knot beside him, and threw the end over a higher limb, and hauled up the slack from Ess, and dropped his own end, and came sliding down the double leathers.
“We’ll have to try another dodge,” he said. “You can use your own strength better to help me this way.”
He knotted a loop in one end, and passed it over her head and down to form a seat for her.
“Now, you sit in that,” he said, “and I’ll haul my end down, and you keep taking a fresh grip of the same downhaul end and pull it down at the same time, and that hoists you up. Now – ready – heave. Hoo-ray. Heave again.”
It was something of a struggle still, but this time it was successful, and Ess seated herself in the crotch of the tree.
Dolly tied one end to the seat of the buggy and lifted it from its place, and after Ess had made an end fast, swarmed up to her.
“We win,” he exclaimed triumphantly. “Now for our house-furnishing”; and he hoisted up the buggy seat, and, when he had found a convenient branch and fork, hauled the seat to it, and jambed it there, and lashed it securely. “Walk into my parlour,” he cried, and helped her to clamber to the seat, and when she was safely on it, showed her where to place her feet on a lower branch, and passed a turn of the rein round her and to the back of the seat. “Hoo-ray again,” he said at last. “Now you can’t fall out if you tried, and you can sit comfy or curl up on the seat, and have a snooze if you like.”
She smiled at him, very faintly, for the climb had exhausted her and it made her giddy to look down. So Dolly climbed to the seat beside her, and they sat together and watched the light spread and spread till they could see to the horizon all round them. And all the horizon was water.
There was still a patch of ground a couple of hundred yards from the tree, and the two horses and a heaving, crawling mass of rabbits were on it, but even as they watched the horses one after the other waded into the water. They waded a long way – over a quarter of a mile – before the water reached to their flanks, but after that it deepened quickly, and they saw the horses sink and bob up again, and go swimming downstream.
Dolly waved his hat to them. “Good-bye, old Spot and Dot,” he called, “and good luck to you.”
The water was still rising, and the buggy lifted gently and floated slowly till the current caught it, and it went spinning away towards the river. The rabbits on the patch of ground were being constantly swept off and carried struggling past the tree, swimming frantically and even trying to clamber and claw at the smooth trunk. Ess shuddered and put fingers to ears to shut out their squeals as the water carried them off; but soon the last of them went, and the water flowed over the last of the patch, with only a slight ripple and downward slide to mark where it had been.
Wreckage of all sorts began to swirl down past them. The tree appeared to stand in some current, and they would see various objects appear far off, and slew round and come sliding swiftly down close to them. There were innumerable drowned sheep; a few cattle and, once, a bullock, with his head high out of the water and swimming strongly; a litter of planks and beams and rafters, which had once been some sort of hut, but was now no more than a jumble of timber; bushes, trees, with the leaved branches dipping and twisting, and heavy dead logs. Dolly pointed out a square table sailing down with its legs in the air, and then a rough home-made chair bobbing after it, and he joked about swimming after them and adding to the house furniture.
But even Dolly’s spirits were almost dying out, although he still made desperate efforts to be cheerful and make light of their position. Ess sat leaning against him, and when Dolly felt her body sink gently to his, and looked down and saw her eyes closed, he slipped an arm about her to support her, and braced himself to sit steady while she slept. His eyes kept a ceaseless watch round the horizon for signs of rescue, although he was almost afraid to think whether they were even likely to have been missed. Nothing came in sight but the long procession of drowned animals and all the litter of the wreckage of the flood. A huge tree had caught its branches on the shallow patch above them, but it gradually twisted and worked free, and slid down to them, and wedged itself firmly with the trunk of their standing tree in its fork. It stuck there, held by the pressure of the water, and presently a long bare trunk sailed down, checked at the shallow, swung round, and slid over with a rush, struck the standing tree with a shock that made it quiver, and woke Ess with a startled cry, swung again, and lodged broadside against the tree. The tangled branches of the other tree helped to hold it, and object after object caught on the two and wedged there, with the water surging and tearing at them. Dolly watched the things pile up with a semi-detached sort of interest, till with a shock he woke to the danger they meant. The tree and the branches they were lodged in quivered under them like a tuning fork, gently at first, but, as the barrier grew and offered a larger resistance to the water, with stronger and stronger vibrations. Their tree tilted a little, and then cracked loud and ominously, and tilted again to a sharper angle.
And then far off Dolly saw a boat.
He woke Ess, and the two of them coo-eed and waved, and Dolly climbed higher and pulled his shirt off, and broke a branch and made a flag, and waved it wildly, till a figure in the boat stood and waved back.
Dolly yelled triumphantly and clambered back to the seat, just as the tree cracked loudly again and canted still further.
“Just about the nick of time,” remarked Dolly. “This old tree is gettin’ a bit too shaky a perch for comfort.”
“Why are they so slow?” said Ess, watching the boat labouring towards them.
“Look down and see the rate the current is running,” said Dolly; “that’ll tell you why. Lord, don’t I pity them slogging against a stream like that? I dunno many more heart-breakin’ jobs. Two men pulling an oar apiece, and the boat loaded deep too evidently.”
“Dolly, what are they doing – where are they going?” cried Ess, in sudden alarm, as the boat swung broadside to them and commenced pulling away. A figure in the stern waved again, and Dolly took comfort.
“Pullin’ off somewhere to get out of the run of the current, I expect,” he said. “They’ll take a sweep round and drop down on us most likely.”
That was evidently the plan, for they saw the boat curve round again a full mile off on its new course, and begin to struggle upstream again, and now it appeared to move faster. Dolly wished most fervently that the rescuers could realise the plight they were in, and gauged with some anxiety the angle they were heeling to.
It would be fully an hour, and perhaps two, before the boat could win to them, he calculated, and then set to work to cast off the lashing of reins round the seat, and made Ess move to a less comfortable but more safe position, and lowered his rope and swung down, and tried to push and pull some of the barrier away. He could move nothing but the very slightest and least of the obstacles, and several wettings were the only results of his labour.
He gave it up at last, and climbed back up the sloping trunk to wait with Ess and all the patience they could command for the slow approach of the rescue.
They saw the boat turn at last, and come shooting across and downstream to them, and, heart in mouth, waited to see whether it would reach them or be swept past. The men were pulling desperately, and the boat forged slowly across. They could see now that there was another lad and a woman and two children in the boat, and again Dolly murmured sympathy for the slog the rowers were having.
The boat was almost abreast of them now, but fully a hundred yards out, when it spun round head to stream and edged slowly in, the rowers fighting hard to hold their position, and doing that and no more.
“It’s Steve,” said Dolly, suddenly, “good old Steve.” He stood and waved his hat, and yelled cheers and encouragement to the boat.
“Go it then – all together – hup – hup. Well ro-o-owed. Get your hands away, bow – lift ’er – lift’er.” He was hopping with excitement. “They’ll do it, Miss Ess. Look at ’em. Wish I had one of those oars.” He stood and yelled again, and now they could see clearly the set faces and clenched teeth of the rowers, the dogged heave and strain, the panting recovery, and again the stubborn pull. They were in the full grip of the current now, and do all they could, the boat was dropping down and back. They saw Seaman Dick West look round and say something to Steve, the boat’s nose slanted in to them, and they swept fast downstream and past the tree again.
“They’ve missed us,” gulped Ess. “Oh, Dolly.” But almost as if he had heard the words Seaman Dick shouted to them, “We’re coming,” and bent his back to the oar again.
“Smart chap that,” said Dolly, with shining eyes. “See the dodge – swing into the backwater this rubbish is making, and creep up in the lee of it.” He shouted again, “Well ro-o-owed again. I’ll steer you, boys. Pull as I say. Pull bow, easy stroke, easy, a couple together now, pull – pull, you tigers – hup again – easy stroke. Now you’re right – all together – now you have it.”
The boat was in the dead water behind the barrier now, and came on easily, although they could see that the rowers were nearly spent with their efforts. Seaman Dick shouted to them to stand by for the line, unshipped his oar and rowlocks, and slipped them together into place for Steve to pull on both oars, and, as Steve kept pulling, lifted his coil of rope, and flung it looping and untwisting into the tree. Dolly caught it and took a couple of swift turns, and shouted “Right,” and the men dropped back in their seats with drooped shoulders.
Steve lifted his head. “You all right there?” he called weakly, and Dolly shouted cheerful reassurances.
“Take your time and get your wind,” he called. “You must be dead beat. Don’t I know what it is to be rowed out? Good men.” He hauled on the rope, and pulled them right up to the driftwood and under the tree.
“Wait a minute,” said Seaman Dick; “I’ll slip up and give you a hand.” He pulled the boat close in to the trunk, caught the reins that Dolly had left hanging, and swarmed nimbly up.
“You must be feelin’ pretty bad, Miss,” he said. “But you’re all right now. We’ll have you in warm blankets in a brace o’ shakes. Let me loop this line about you.”
“Thank you for coming,” said Ess, jerkily. “It was such hard work too.” She laughed a trifle hysterically, for the long exposure and the strain were telling now that the reaction had come. “And – and I thought you were running off and leaving us.”
Seaman Dick looked keenly at her. “You’re right as ninepence now, Miss,” he said soothingly. “Don’t worry any more.”
“Right as ni-ninepence,” said Ess. “No – don’t touch me – I’m too wet to – to touch.”
“Buck up, Miss Ess,” said Dolly, “you’ve been such a brick, y’ know. Stick it out now.”
“Never mind being wet,” said Seaman Dick, looping the rope about her dexterously. “We’ll have you dry enough in no time.”
“But I – I’m so wet,” she repeated foolishly, “so wet.”
She clung to the branch when they would have lifted and lowered her, till Dolly gripped her shoulder and spoke in her ear. “Miss Ess, be a sport. We’re all pretty near used up, and you’re making no end of trouble. Just one effort, and it’s over. Now then.”
She gulped once or twice and sat up. “All right, Dolly,” she said. “I’m sorry; but I’m all right now. I’m ready.”
But her nerves were badly shaken, and she had hard work to hold back a shriek as she dangled over the water and was dropped gently to the boat. Steve was waiting to catch and steady her, with love and pity and joy lighting his eyes.
“Ess,” he said hoarsely, as she reached the boat, “Ess… Thank God…”
“Don’t touch me,” she said weakly, “don’t touch me…”
Steve drew back as if the words had been a blow in the face – drew back and flinched, as he had not drawn back from the blow of her whip; and Ess sank down in the boat and covered her face with her hands, and muttered to herself, “I’m so wet – don’t touch me.”
The other woman drew her down beside her, and patted her head and soothed her, while Dolly and Seaman Dick lowered themselves to the boat.
They pushed off, and Dolly insisted on taking an oar. It would warm him, he said, and he was longing to handle an oar again, anyway. Seaman Dick took the other, and they pulled out into the current, and went shooting downstream and making for the township and the bridge.
And Steve huddled up in the bows with smarting hands that were blistered and skinned with the unaccustomed work at the oars, and muscles that ached as if he had been beaten with clubs. He spoke to Dolly, and answered his questions and listened to his story of their adventures mechanically. He heard it all dully, as he heard the slow rhythmitic roll and cluck of the oars in the rowlocks and the rippling hiss and lap of the water under the bows; but clearer than all during the long pull back he could hear Ess’s words over and over again, “Don’t touch me.” He had finished a hard day’s work only to saddle and ride through the night, and the dangers of the Toss-Up, and the weary road along the river bank; he had pulled and strained at the oars till his muscles cracked; he had kept up through it all, because it was for her, and because he lived on the hope that he might find her. He had listened with beating heart for the sound of her voice through that last bitter struggle to reach the tree, and he had waited with hope and love surging through him as she dropped to his arms. But… “Don’t touch me … don’t touch me…”