in the water, struggling for his own or another's life, a man's stock in trade consists mainly of breath. without that he can't do much, and generally he fails for the want of it; not when life deserts him, but when he might, by an economical use of it, have been able to save himself. i had been in the water enough to learn this lesson, and to be competent to advise all my young friends, in the moment of peril, to refrain from useless and unreasonable struggling, for that wastes the breath, and fritters away the strength.
i held on at the raft till i had recovered my breath, and felt strong enough to make another effort; for i found that my own life and that of my charge were to depend principally on my own exertions. sim was willing, but he was stupid; and[224] i was afraid that some blunder of his would yet lose me the battle.
i brought the helpless girl on my arm so that she could take hold of the raft, but she seemed not to have the power to do so.
"sim, mind what you are about now!" i called to my help.
"i will, buck! what shall i do?" stuttered he.
"lie down on the platform so that you can reach the girl."
he obeyed, and held out his great paws towards my helpless burden. i raised her up a little, and he grasped her under the arms. he was as strong as an ox; and raising her a little way, he turned over, and then lifted her clear from the water, but dragging her up as roughly as though she had been a log of wood. i needed no help myself, and was on the raft almost as soon as the girl. she was utterly exhausted, and unable to hold up her head. sim and i carried her into the house. we laid her in sim's bunk, and flora was as tender with her as though she had been a baby.
"hookie!" exclaimed sim, staring at the sufferer, [225]with his mouth open wide enough to take in a canal boat. "is she dead?"
"no—not dead!" replied flora, as she lifted the wet locks from her face, and gently rubbed her temples. "what shall we do for her, buckland?"
"she is chilled with the cold, and worn out with fear and exertion."
"i shall be better soon," said the girl, faintly. "i feel better now. let me rest a moment."
"give her some hot tea," suggested flora.
the tea-pot was on the stove, and i prepared a cup of tea for her. she drank it, and the effect was good.
"i feel better; but i am so cold!" said she.
flora and i consulted what it was best to do, and we finally decided that her wet clothing must be removed. i carried her into my sister's room, and laid her on a blanket. i then closed up the shutters of the outer room, replenished the fire, and left flora to do the rest. the stove would heat the house as hot as an oven when the windows and doors were closed.
sim was now at the steering oar, where i joined [226]him. except the fragments of the wreck which floated on the river, there was no vestige of the terrible calamity in sight.
"do you think she will die?" asked sim, looking as anxious as though the girl had been one of our own party.
"no; she is better now. she will be all right in a day or two."
"who is she?" asked he, opening his mouth and his eyes to express his wonder.
"i don't know—how should i?"
"didn't she tell you?"
"no—she isn't able to talk much yet. she hasn't said ten words."
"didn't she tell you who she was?"
sim asked silly questions, and i had not always the patience to answer him, especially when he had asked the same ones half a dozen times. i had as much curiosity as he had to know who and what the young lady was, and i was impatient to hear from flora. as she did not call me, i was satisfied her patient was doing well. it was quite dark now, and i was walking rapidly up and down the raft, to [227]keep myself warm, for i had had no opportunity to change my wet clothes for dry ones.
"buckland!" called the soft voice of flora, "you may come in now."
"how is the girl?" i asked.
"she is nicely now. i have rubbed her, put dry clothes upon her, and covered her up with blankets in my bed. she wants to see you."
i followed flora into her room. the stranger, with the exception of her head, was buried in the blankets, and by the dim light of the lantern i saw as pretty a face as it ever had been my good fortune to behold before. i had hardly seen her until now; certainly my first impressions of her features and expression were derived from this observation, rather than from any former one. she had a very mild, soft blue eye; but she looked quite sad and troubled.
"i wish to tell you how grateful i am to you for saving my life," said she. "i shall never forget your kindness, and i hope i may be able to do something more for you."
"o, never mind that," i replied. "that's all right. i'm glad i had a chance to do as i did."[228]
"you are a brave and noble young man, and you saved my life. it may do for you to forget it, but it will not do for me to do so."
"i won't complain if you do;" and as all heroes say under similar circumstances, i told her i had only done my duty.
"yet i almost wish you had not saved me," she added, with a shudder, as her eyes suddenly filled with tears.
"why so?" i asked, though i had not much difficulty in reading the cause of her sadness.
"my mother! o, my mother!" cried she, in agony.
poor girl! i wanted to cry with her. flora threw her arms around her neck, and wept with her.
"your mother was in the steamer—was she?" i added.
"she was—and lost."
"perhaps not," i suggested.
"o, i know she was."
"probably some were saved."
"i dare not hope so," sobbed she, uncovering her [229]eyes, and glancing at me. "i was sitting clear back, as far as i could get, looking into the water, when this terrible thing happened. i was thrown into the river by the shock, or i jumped in—i don't know which. i caught hold of that stick, but i did not know what i was doing."
"but where was your mother?" i asked. "she may have been equally fortunate."
"the boat was racing with another, and mr. spear asked my mother to go forward, and see the furnaces under the boilers, which, he said, were red hot. i was reading a book, and did not want to go. in two or three minutes after they went, the boiler burst. my mother must have been very near the furnaces when the explosion took place."
"who was mr. spear?"
"he was the gentleman who was taking charge of us."
"but it is possible that your mother was saved."
"i wish i knew!" she exclaimed, with tremulous emotion. "can't you ascertain? i shall be so grateful to you!"
"i will try," i replied. "we are not more than [230]ten miles from the place where the accident happened, and i can return."
"o, i wish you would!"
"do you wish to return?" i asked.
"she cannot go to-night," interposed flora. "she is all worn out."
"i do not feel able to go," added the poor girl; "and i do not wish to go unless my mother is saved."
"what is your mother's name?"
"mrs. goodridge."
"and yours?"
"emily goodridge."
"where do you live?"
"in new orleans. my father is a merchant there. i have been sick, and the doctor said i must go to the north; but my mother—"
she could say no more, for her sobs choked her utterance. i assured her i would do all i could to ascertain the fate of her mother. i went into the other room, and changed my clothes, and wrote down the names which emily gave me, so that i need not forget them. after assuring myself that [231]everything was right in the house, i went out and hoisted the sail. taking the steering oar, i ran the raft up to the shore on the missouri side, as the wind was favorable in that direction. i secured the craft in the strongest manner, in order to make sure that she did not go adrift during the night.
i knew there was a village not far above, for i had seen the lights of it through the window as i was talking to emily. i went on shore, and walked about a mile, which brought me to the place. i went into a store that i found open on the levee, and inquired of the keeper in what manner i could get to cairo. he told me i could only go by a steamboat, and that i might have to wait an hour, or a couple of days, for one. but, while i was talking with him, a man came in and said there was a boat coming up the river. the person who brought this pleasing intelligence was rough looking, and i offered him a dollar if he would put me on board of her. he accepted my proposition so good-naturedly that i concluded the boat was coming up to the town; but she did not, and he put me into a bateau, and pulled off to her. at first she would not stop.[232]
"great news!" i shouted, at the top of my lungs.
curiosity did what good-nature would not, and the boat stopped her wheels long enough for me to jump on her deck.
"what do you mean by great news?" demanded a gentleman, who, i soon found, was the captain. "did you say that to make me stop the boat? if you did, i'll heave you overboard."
"no, sir; i did not," i replied, with becoming promptness after the threat he had used.
"what's your great news, then?" demanded he.
"do you know what two steamers went up the river about two or three hours ago?" i asked.
"certainly i do—the river queen no. 4 and the centurion. they passed me this morning. but what's your news, boy?"
"the centurion blew up about seven o'clock, as she was going into the ohio river."
"the centurion!" exclaimed he.
"yes, sir."
"is that so, or are you making up this story?"
"it is true, sir. i saved a young lady who was a passenger. i left her below this village, and i [233]want to go up and find out whether her mother was lost, or not."
"what is her name?"
"emily goodridge."
"goodridge? do you know her father's name?"
i looked at my paper, and found the name was edward f. goodridge.
"he is one of the heaviest merchants in new orleans," added the captain, thoughtfully.
my news proved to be all i had represented it, and i was plied with questions which i could not answer, by the passengers interested in the fate of those on board of the unfortunate steamer. i could only tell them that the boat had been blown all to pieces, and that there was plenty of assistance at hand to save those who were thrown into the water.
in less than an hour my news was fully confirmed on the arrival of the steamer at cairo. we were informed that the river queen no. 4 was still there, with the survivors of the disaster on board, and i hastened to find her.
