With Cochrane the DauntlessHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
General
With Cochrane the Dauntless
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Biographical fiction; Dundonald, Thomas Cochrane, Earl of, 1775-1860
The Indians seemed tireless; all through the next night, whenever Stephen
awoke he found them still at work. Soon after daybreak they stopped at a
spot where there was another great bed of rushes, numbers of these they
cut down, largely increasing the size of the raft, and adding to its
stability. It was now some twelve feet long and eight wide, and composed
of a great bed of rushes two feet deep, and which, with their weight upon
it, floated more than a foot above the water. Four days later they emerged
from the forest on to the Madeira. The stream by which they had come had
received on its way so many accessions that it was now a river of some
size. It took them four days of hard work to make their way up to the
mission-station, although the distance was but fifty miles, and it was
only by keeping close to the shore, and utilizing every eddy and
back-water, that they succeeded in stemming the current.
The mission had now its full number of occupants, and they were received
with the greatest kindness. Their effects had all been carefully stowed
away in case they should ever return, although none thought that there was
the least probability of their doing so, as nothing had been heard of them
since six months before, when an Indian brought a message from Pita
begging a supply of quinine for his white companion.
They waited some days at the mission. Stephen had regained much of his
strength during his journey on the raft, and was willing to make a start
at once; but the good fathers of the mission insisted upon his staying
with them for a few days, and he felt that he benefited a great deal by
the good food and wine they gave him. There was no longer any occasion for
their original raft, and although it had done them good service they were
all glad when they took their places in the canoe and started with a
steady stroke down the river. It was no longer a rapid stream, and the
falls, though still grand, were as nothing in comparison to the scene they
presented when the river was in full flood. Still, there was enough stream
to help them materially, and to allow the Indians to lay in their paddles
at times and let the boat drift by itself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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