University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII.
THE FLOOD AND THE RESCUE.

When Nelson Osborne, for it was he,
as the reader has discovered, who way-laid
Cesar, had effected his escape from
him up the bank, he stopped to take
breath under the walls of the old block-house.

His bosom burned with the fiercest
passions of rage and mortification. He
cursed his carelessness in having betrayed
his person to the negro, in his eagerness
to learn where Archibald Worthington
was, and his want of skill in losing his
sword, and thus being compelled to fly
from the negro like a coward. But Nelson
Osborne was no coward. He had
showed his courage not only in his rescue
conjointly with Archibald of Blance,
but he had shown it in the war.

It will not be out of place here to
bring before the reader more particularly
the events which preceded the opening
of our story, and which led to the rivalship
of the two young men.

They were both sons of parents in
moderate circumstances, and of respectable
rank in society. They were only
sons, and their mothers became widows
when they were yet mere lads. The
mother of Archibald moved to the town
below Augusta, and there educated her
son with the narrow means her circumstances
permitted. Nelson remained in
Augusta, and as the lads were intimate,
they alternately visited each other from
week to week. In this way they grew
up to be young men; Nelson fond of
pleasure, passing his time in gunning,
fishing, and sailing on the river; while

Archibald was inclined both to books and
labor; and by making occasional trips
in the packets, for he had a passion for
the sea, he relieved his mother of the
burden of his sports even ere he had
reached his seventeenth year, and sometimes
was able out of his wages to bring
her a present of a dress or new cap from
Boston.

But Nelson thought little of alleviating
his widowed mother's toils for his maintenance.
He never earned anything for
himself, but on the contrary did not blush
to borrow of her, when he needed it for
his pleasure, money out of her narrow
income.

The residence of Nelson's mother was
in an humble cottage, just below the
rapid, and whenever Archibald visited
him the two young men used to pass the
day together fishing for salmon in the
swift current, or more adventurous carrying
their skiff above the cataracts,
dart over them with arrowy rapidity, and
not without imminent peril from the hidden
rocks and wild turmoil of the foaming
waters.

One day Archibald was on a visit to
his friend after an absence of several
weeks on a voyage to Charleston. He
had brought home money for his mother,
and gladdened her heart by his habits of
industry, and the proof he gave of integrity
and love of virtue. He was in
fine spirits, and although he did not altogether
approve of the character of his
old friend and school-mate, as it began
to be developed, as he approached manhood,
still from habit he visited him. On
the occasion in question a spring rain had
raised the river to a fearful height, and
drifts mingled with masses of ice were
driving furiously past the town. Archibald
was standing in the door of Nelson's
house, watching the huge logs and cakes
of ice leap the rapids, or shoot through
the narrow passages with loud road and
the exhibition of tremendous power.
While he was gazing he saw what appeared
to be a house coming down above
the falls.

`It is a horse,' exclaimed Nelson, to
whom he pointed it out. `The river is
rising fast to float houses off. The bridge
at Waterville will be sure to come down
before night.'

`Let us go higher up, and from the
bluff over-looking the rapids, get a better
view of the river. I have never seen
anything so sublime, except a storm at
sea, when the waves seemed to run mad,
and like living monsters, try to swallow
up our vessel.

The two young men hastened up the
narrow path, and going round the rapids,
ascended a bold eminence that commanded
the whole wild scene, and gave them
a view of the river for some distance
above and below them. While they
stood there, the house they had seen came
along upon the current, and was borne
swiftly towards the verge of the foaming
rapids. It rolled and whirled round as
it drew nearer, and then with a loud
crash was hurled over the cataract, and
all was ruin. In a few seconds aftewards
a hundred fragments were seen by them
tossed over the boiling waters far below
the falls.

`I am thankful there was no person in
that house,' said Archibald. `There
would have been no escape for a human
being.

`See, there comes a cow,' cried Nelson,
and a horse too, is struggling for
his life, just behind her. Poor animals.
Their fate is sealed. Hear how the cow
lowes, and turns her head this way and
that, with such wild fear, as she strives
to reach the shore. But mark the horse.
He seems to be conscious of the fate
that awaits him. See how he leaps half
his length out of the water, as he tries
to reach the shore. Now he has thrown

his fore feet upon a floating log. But
he knows it is destined to the same vortex
which awaits him, and he leaves it.
Nearer and nearer they draw to their
fate. Hear the plaintive lowings of the
cow. Now it is all over with her. There
she plunges and disappears in the fearful
waters. Oh! that I could save the horse.

`No mortal man can do it. What a
shriek?'

`It was his death-cry. There he goes
over? See how he bounds half his body's
length out into the air, as he goes over
the smoothly rolling verge. But it is his
last effort for life. He has shared the
fate of the poor cow.'

`And of every living thing that happens
to be adrift on this river above the
falls,' said Nelson, with an oath.

`Look! The bridge! The bridge!'
cried a hundred voices.

All eyes were directed to a point up
the river, about a mile and a half distant,
and there was indeed the half of a
bridge floating down.

`It is the Waterville,' cried several
voices.

`God grant no human soul was on it
when it was carried away,' said a poor
woman near. There could be no help
for any body.'

That is true, 'ma'am,' said Archibald:
`but what object is that floating near the
fragment of the bridge,' he asked of those
around him, as the wreck was borne
rapidly nearer. `There is certainly
something living moving its arms upon
it.'

`It is a man!' exclaimed several
voices; for a member of persons had assembled
upon the eminence to see the
flooded river in its power, and watch the
mad leaping of the logs and wrecks of
fences over the rapids.

`It is a human being,' a hundred
tongues echoed, with thrilling pathos.

`It looks like a woman.'

`She is floating on a couch,' cried
others.

Archibald looked for an instant steadily
at the distant object on which all eyes
were directed, before he could convince
himself that it was a human being, for it
was still half a mile distant. But he was
no sooner convinced of the fact, that a
fellow being was destined to imminent
destruction, than he resolved to risk his
life to attempt to save him, and when
he saw, as in a moment after it was plain
to see, that it was a female who was
so dangerously situated, than his spirit
was resolved what to do.

`Nelson,' he cried to his friend, `I
see a skiff that two men have just drawn
up to the bank there to secure it. Let
us run down the hill, launch it, and push
out into the river, and, if possible, save
her!'

`It will be madness,' cried Nelson.

`No power can avert her fate, young
man,' cried two or three persons near
him.

`You will only share it,' cried others.

`I will at least make the attempt if I
have to go alone,' he answered, and the
next moment he was bounding down the
steep hill-side towards the river's brink,
and in the direction of a skiff, which two
men had just before drawn out of the
reach of the water, and left on the bank
two hundred yards above the rapids.

`You are mad, Worthington,' cried
Nelson, following him to deter him from
risking his life.

`I cannot stand quietly and see the
poor woman perish before my eyes,
Nelson,' answered Archibald, as his
friend came up with him. `Go with
me. If we can't reach her in time, we
can regain the shore: and at least shall
have the satisfaction of having made the
effort.'

`If you go you will be taken over the
falls.'

`I shall nevertheless make the attempt
to reach her,' he answered, still hurrying
along the beach as he talked.

`It is Captain Talbot's daughter.'

`It is Blanche Talbot!' was now suddenly
echoed from lip to lip; and the
words fell on the ears of the young men,
as they reached the skiff.

`Then I will save her or perish,' exclaimed
Archibald with resolution.

`And I will go with you, Archey,'
answered Nelson, who was now all animation.

Without saying a word to the two men
who stood on the bank just above their
skiff, the two young men, as if obeying
one impulse, and actuated by the same
spirit lifted, each one end of the skiff,
and launched it into the current. Archibald
saw the two oars laid across the
limb of a tree close at hand, and taking
them down, he leaped into the boat, followed
by Nelson. They each grasped
an oar, and boldly pushed out into the
stream.

The floating carriage was about a
third of a mile above them, and they
about two hundred yards above the rapids.
With the swiftness with which the
bridge and coach came down, they saw
that in less than five minutes the fate of
Blanche Talbot, whom they now plainly
recognised, would be sealed. Both of
them were already unknown to each
other, and unknown to Blanche, her admirers;
and when they were assured
that it was she who was exposed to such
peril, their spirits seemed to be new created,
and their strength to be supernatural!

Giving themselves with all their souls
to their daring effort for her preservation,
they began to ascend the stream near
the shore, where the current was weakest,
encouraged by the shouts of some,
and warned by the cries of others, who
witnessed in amazement and terror, this
fearless enterprize.

The attention of the people on both
shores was now divided, between the
coach and the skiff, with its two brave
oarsmen. The object of all this excitement,
and almost mad exposure of life,
on the part of the two young men, was
standing upon the top of a coach that
was but a few inches above the water.—
At intervals she would wave her arms
towards the shore, but no cry escaped
her.

Suddenly, as the coach came into a
turbulent part of the river it began to rock,
and they saw her stoop down to hold
firmly on, in order to prevent being
thrown off into the river. The effort
she made in doing so, tilted the coach,
and it turned over with her, casting her
into the water. A loud outcry, accompanied
with shrieks and groans, rose
from the spectators at seeing this, and
every one expected she would perish
there, ere she reached the rapids; but
the next instant every eye was gladdened
at her re-appearance after sinking for
a moment, and again beheld her clinging
to the side of the carriage.

There was a loud shout of joy at seeing
this, but it subsided into a deep moan
of grief at the reflection that her safety
was only for a few moments.

`Poor child,' said one; `it is but a
minute's reprieve. For my part I wish
it was all over with her! Oh, what will
become of her poor father, who loved
her so much.'

`See the skiff!' cried fifty voices; `it
has now got up even with the coach,
and they are pulling strait out into the
river.'

`Only to die too with her!' said
many.

`Look how they pull. They make
their boat fairly jump. See! How

they bend to their oars and make it fly
over the water.'

`Courage!'

`Brave men! onward!'

`Onward! You may save her!'

`Pull away for your lives!'

`Don't give up!'

`On! on! on! Row faster! row for
your lives! There, they are getting
near her! See! What strength and
steadiness! There is no flinch to them!
They will save her! Heave a-head!
Make her fly! That is it! Bravo!
They will save her yet! Only two rods
more! Pull! pull! A few more strokes!'
cried and shouted again a score of men,
whose bodies and hands moved with
those of the rowers.

`A half a dozen hard pulls, my brave
fellows!'

`Row! row! row!'

`There they are!'

`They have got her!'

`They have saved her!'

`She is in their boat!' cried five hundred
tongues, as the young men shot
their skiff along side the coach-body,
and Archibald Worthington leaping upon
it caught Blanche in his arms, and,
aided by Nelson, lifted her into the skiff.
`She is safe!' filled the air like a thunder
peal.

But the universal excitement of joy at
the success of the two bold young men,
in their daring achievment, gave instantly
place to emotion of the liveliest apprehension.
For the moment they had
rejoiced in an apparent rescue; but an
instants reflection showed the multitude
that their joy was without just foundation;
that Blanche Talbot instead of being rescued
had only united with her two more
hapless victims to be hurled into the destruction
towards which she had been
borne alone.

`There are three deaths instead of
one!' cried several of the women who
looked on wringing their hands. `There
will be mourning in three houses this
night, instead of one!'

But the words of sorrow and fear were
silenced by the intense excitement of the
scene that now drew all eyes, and held
still the beating of all hearts.

The young men had no sooner taken
the scarcely alive Blanche into their
boat and placed her humbly, but gently
in the stern, than they sprang to their
oars again, which had not been hardly
thirty seconds out of their hands.

`Keep heart, Blanche,' said Archibald,
as he saw her look fearfully forward at
the roaring rapids.

`You ought not. You ought to have
let me perished alone!' she faltered.

`No, Blanche. If you perish I perish
with you!' he answered. `But there is
yet hope. The rapids are full a quarter
of a mile below us! Give way, Nelson!
Let us strain every nerve now, indeed;
for we have now her safety in our own
hands!'

`We will save her if we die for it,' answered
Nelson, as he bent strongly to
his oar.

`To the other shore, Not to the one
we started from,' had been Archibald's
words, as soon as he had removed
Blanche from the coach into the skiff;
and thither, to the east shore, the boat
fairly flew. It was at least one hundred
and fifty yards nigher than the one they
had started from. The foam curled
about the bows of their strongly propelled
skiff and deluged them with water. At
each stroke both of the young men fairly
rose to their feet, and then threw themselves
backwards with all their weight
They displayed astonishing strength and
skill. The least error, or awkwardness,
or feathering of an oar might have been
fatal.

As fast as they urged their frail bark
shoreward, it was borne downward by

the fierce current in the direction of the
roaring cataracts. The noise of the
dashing waters below them grew louder
and louder. Each instant they felt that
they were going towards the verge like
an arrow. It was a fearful race between
the speed of the wild river and that of
their little boat. It was a contest between
human strength and energy, and
the power of the elements.

The excitement of the crowds on
shore, as they watched the terrible struggle
of the oars-men, was intense. They
stood looking with breathless silence.
If one spoke others would hush him. It
was not a time for words. The anxiety
and suspense were too awful. The
prospects of the skiff's reaching the
shore was doubtful; indeed, no one believed
it could, though all hoped, and a
hundred prayers went up to Heaven to
aid the rowers.

The young men saw all their danger.
They calculated at a glance the distance
between the shore, and safety, and the
rapids, and ruin. They felt that the
chances were very few in their favor.
But the sense of their danger. The
sight of the lovely girl in the boat who
seemed, with her earnest looks and
clasped hands, to implore them to save
her; the encouraging shouts from the
shore that suddenly broke the silence, as
Jack, the well known Jack he was called,
with a coil rope in his hand came
bounding down the bank and stationed
himself on a projecting timber, stood
ready to throw it if they should come
near enough. All this inspired them,
and aided their efforts already super-human.

`Don't give up yet. Pull a little harder,
if you can,' called out an old packet-captain.
`There is a chance yet.—
Never give up. Break your oars, my
lads, so you get here safely.'

`Pull now.'

`Oh, for a few seconds more time.'

`One minute more.'

`See how swiftly the river takes them
down. It will take them over before
they can reach the shore.'

`For your lives, men. For your
lives.'

`They do their best. God help them.

`Amen.'

`They are gone. They are lost!'
shrieked a thousand tongues.

`Hurrah! Hilloh! Hurrah! Well
done!' was the next moment filling the
whole sky like an army's shout of victory.
`Well done.'

`They are save!'

`Thank God! They are all three
saved!'

`Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!' shouted,
with shout upon shout, the joyful
multitude, as the next moment the hats
and oars from the skiff shotl ike an arrow
over the verge, and disappeared in
the vortex of wild waters.