The House Boat Boys; Or, Drifting Down to the Sunny SouthRathborne, St. George
General
The House Boat Boys; Or, Drifting Down to the Sunny South
Rathborne, St. George
Boats and boating -- Juvenile fiction; Houseboats -- Juvenile fiction; Mississippi River -- Juvenile fiction
They fought "tooth and nail," as Thad said, to accomplish such a
result.
"We're passing the point!" shouted Maurice, ending with a groan.
"Keep working! The current sets in just below, and we want to ride
along with it," answered his chum.
Then Maurice saw a great light, and realized what his comrade had
in mind.
"The trees are further away!" he could not help saying.
"Yes, but the water ain't near so sassy; don't you see how we are
pushing the old tub in closer all the while? When I say the word
you jump for the anchor, and let her slide!"
"Oh!"
Maurice was encouraged to work again with renewed vigor, for hope
had once more found a lodgment in his soul.
Hardly had ten seconds passed before the voice of Thad rang out
above the clamor of the wind, and the breaking of the waves
against the stern of the laboring shanty-boat.
"Now! do it!"
And Maurice, dropping away from the sweep, made a hasty jump for
the place where the anchor and its cable lay.
In his haste he must have made a misstep, for suddenly Thad saw
him stumble and vanish over the side into the boiling waters of
the Mississippi!
A feeling of horror shot through the heart of the boy as he thus
witnessed the catastrophe that had overtaken his chum.
He forgot all necessity for remaining on guard at the sweep, in
order to prevent the boat from being carried out; but abandoning
his trust he sprang toward the spot where he had last seen
Maurice.
Throwing himself down on his chest he endeavored to penetrate the
almost inky darkness that rested upon the water at that particular
place.
But not a thing could he see at first; it was as though those
treacherous waters had swallowed up his friend forever!
And just then he became aware of the fact that there was a sudden
change in the movement of the shanty-boat, which instead of
continuing to whirl down-stream seemed to be brought to a stop,
and was tugging violently at some object that persisted in
restraining her onward progress!
THE ANCHOR!
Yes, in his plunge Maurice must have knocked this over the side,
and the heavy object, swiftly reaching bottom in that shallow
spot, had brought the wild cruise of the craft to an abrupt
conclusion.
But Maurice--dear would the safety of the old boat have been
purchased, had he been swept away, to be possibly drowned in the
flood, encumbered as he was with all his clothes.
"Wow!"
Thad heard this sound, although he could see nothing; and a thrill
shot through him at the consciousness that it must have been made
by his chum.
"Where are you, Maurice?" he shrilled, eager to lend what
assistance lay in his limited power.
"Holding on to the cable of the anchor, and swallowing a pint of
yellow stuff every breath!" came back in broken sentences, as
though the speaker might be ejecting some of the surplus fluid
whenever the opportunity offered.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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