Unfortunately, this was not possible, either that day or the next. At seeing himself thus detained, Glenarvan despaired. Lady Helena and the major tried in vain to pacify and exhort him to patience. Patience! when, at that moment perhaps, Ben Joyce was going on board the yacht, when the Duncan was weighing anchor and steaming towards that fatal coast, to which every hour brought her nearer!
Captain Mangles felt at heart all Glenarvan’s anguish, and, as he wished to overcome the difficulty at all hazards, he constructed a canoe in the Australian fashion, with large pieces of the bark of the gum-trees. These slabs, which were very light, were held together by wooden crossbars, and formed a very frail craft.
The captain and the sailor tried the canoe. All that skill, strength, or courage could do they did. But scarcely were they in the current, when they capsized and narrowly escaped with their lives. The boat was drawn into the eddies and disappeared. Captain Mangles and Wilson had not advanced ten yards into the river, which was swollen by the rains and melting snows till it was now a mile in breadth.
Two days were wasted in this way. The major and Glenarvan went five miles up stream without finding a practicable ford. Everywhere was the same impetuosity, the same tumultuous rush of water; all the southern slopes of the mountains had poured their liquid torrents into this single stream. They were forced, therefore, to give up any hope of saving the Duncan. Five days had passed since Ben Joyce’s departure, the yacht was probably that very moment at the coast, in the hands of the convicts.
However, this state of things could not last long. Indeed, on the morning of the third day, Paganel perceived that the waters were beginning to subside. He reported to Glenarvan the result of his observations.
“What does it matter now?” replied Glenarvan; “it is too late!”
“That is no reason for prolonging our stay at the encampment,” replied the major.
“Certainly not,” said Captain Mangles; “tomorrow, perhaps, it will be possible to cross.”
“But will that save my unfortunate crew?” cried Glenarvan.
“Listen to me, my lord,” continued Captain Mangles. “I know Tom Austin. He was to execute your orders, and start as soon as his departure was possible. Who knows whether the Duncan was ready, or her injuries repaired, on the arrival of Ben Joyce at Melbourne? Supposing the yacht could not put to sea, and suffered one or two days of delay?”
“You are right, John,” replied Glenarvan. “We must reach Twofold Bay. We are only thirty-five miles from Delegete.”
“Yes,” said Paganel, “and in that town we shall find rapid means of conveyance. Who knows whether we shall not arrive in time to prevent this calamity?”
“Let us start!” cried Glenarvan.
Captain Mangles and Wilson at once occupied themselves in constructing a raft of large dimensions. Experience had proved that pieces of bark could not resist the violence of the torrent. The captain cut down several gum-trees, of which he made a rude but substantial raft. It was a tedious task, and that day ended before the work was completed; but the next day it was finished.
The waters had now considerably subsided. The torrent had become a river again, with a rapid current. However, with proper management, the captain hoped to reach the opposite bank.
At noon they put on board as much provisions as each could carry for two days’ travel. The rest was abandoned with the cart and the tent. Mulready was well enough to be moved; he was recovering rapidly.
Each took his place on the raft, which was moored to the bank. Captain Mangles had arranged on the starboard side, and confided to Wilson, a kind of oar to sustain the raft against the current, and prevent its drifting. As for himself, he stood at the stern, and steered by means of a clumsy rudder. Lady Helena and Mary Grant occupied the centre of the raft near Mulready. Glenarvan, the major, Paganel, and Robert surrounded them, ready to lend assistance.
“Are we ready, Wilson?” asked Captain Mangles.
“Yes, captain,” replied the sailor, seizing his oar with a firm hand.
“Attention, and bear up against the current.”
Captain Mangles unmoored the raft, and with one push launched it into the current of the river. All went well for some time, and Wilson resisted the leeway. But soon the craft was drawn into the eddies, and turned round and round, so that neither oar nor rudder could keep it in a straight course. In spite of their efforts, they were soon placed in a position where it was impossible to use the oars.
They were forced to be passive; there was no means of preventing this gyratory motion. They were whirled about with a giddy rapidity, and sent out of their course. The captain, with pale face and set teeth, stood and gazed at the eddying water.
However, the raft was entangled in the midst of the river, half a mile below where they started. The current here was very strong, and, as it broke the eddies, it lessened the whirling motion. The captain and Wilson resumed their oars, and succeeded in propelling the craft in an oblique direction. In this way they approached nearer the left bank, and were only a few yards distant, when Wilson’s oar broke. The raft, no longer sustained against the current, was carried down stream. The captain endeavored to prevent it, at the risk of breaking his rudder, and Wilson with bleeding hands assisted him.
At last they succeeded, and the raft, after a voyage of more than half an hour, ran upon the steeply-sloping bank. The shock was violent; the timbers were thrown apart, the ropes broken, and the foaming
