of fast green water. They went swooping down it, Nicholas holding their
bows into it with delicate touches of the sweep, and came out into the
bottom of it with all the other boats following them down in sequence.
'Nothing to it!' Royan laughed up at him.
Don't say itV Nicholas pleaded with her. The bad angel is listening.'
And he lined up for the head of the next set of rapids that raced
towards them with terrifying speed.
Nicholas steered through the gap between two outcrops of rock and they
shot the barrel, gaining speed down the chute. It was only when they
were halfway down that he saw the tall standing wave below them over
which the river leaped. He put the sweep across and tried to steer round
it, but the river had them firmly in its grip.
Like a hunter taking a fence they shot up the front of the standing
wave, and then with a sickening lurch plummeted down the far side into
the deep trough. The Avon folded across the middle, the bows almost
touching the stem as she tried to pull through the hole in the river
surface.
The crew were tumbled over each other and Nicholas would have been
catapulted overside if it had not been for his body line and his grip on
the steering sweep. Royan flung herself flat on the deck and hung on to
the safety strap with all her strength as the Avon's buoyancy exerted
itself and the boat bounded high in the air, whipping back elastically
into its original shape, then hovered a moment and almost capsized
before it crashed back, right side up.
One of the crew had been hurled overboard and was floundering alongside,
carried along at the same speed as the flying Avon, so his comrades were
able to lean out and haul him back on board. The cargo of ammunition
crates had tumbled and shifted, but the nets had prevented any of them
from being lost over the side.
'What did you do that for?' Royan yelled at him. 'Just when I was
beginning to trust you.'
'Just testing'he yelled back. 'Wanted to see how tough you really are.'
'I admit it, I am a sissy,' she assured him. 'You really don't need to
do it again.'
Looking back, Nicholas saw Mek's boat crash through the trough just as
they had, but the following craft had enough warning to steer clear and
slip through the sides of the run.
He looked ahead again, and his whole existence became the wild waters of
the river. His universe was contained within the tall cliffs of the
sub-gorge as he battled to bring the racing Avon through. He did not
know whether it was spray or rain that stung his cheeks and his wounded
chin, and that flew horizontally into his eyes and half-blinded him. At
times it was a mixture of the two.
An hour later Nicholas misjudged the rapids again, and they went in
sideways and almost capsized. Two of his crew were hurled overboard.
Steering fine and leaning outboard they managed to pull one of them from
the river, but the other man struck a rock before they could reach him.
He went under and did not rise again. None of them spoke or mourned him,
for they were all too busy staying alive themselves.
