A MEETING OF MATES.

With starvation staring our raftmates in the face, the problem of how they were to escape from their present predicament became a most important one. The first suggestion was that they construct a small and easily managed raft from a portion of the material contained in the _Venture_. They foresaw that it would be impossible for them to propel even this against the swift current and reach the river, where they might procure relief from some pa.s.sing boat. Still, even to drift with the current, or at the best to work their way diagonally across it, with the hope of reaching some source of food supply, seemed better than to remain where they were, and accordingly they began to collect material for a raft.

They had hardly started at this when Worth called out that he saw a canoe lodged in a clump of shrubbery.

They all looked where he pointed, and all saw it. Although it was not more than a hundred yards from them, the full force of the current must be encountered for the entire distance before one could reach it.

All were agreed that they must obtain it, if possible, and that their very lives might depend upon getting that canoe. First Billy Brackett threw off his clothing, and plunging into the chill waters, attempted to swim to it. He had not covered half the distance before he was compelled to turn back utterly exhausted. Then Glen Elting and Sumner undertook the task together, but splendid swimmers as they were, they could no more stem that resistless flood than they could have flown to the canoe.

As they were dejectedly resuming their clothing in the "shanty" they were startled by a shout from outside. Winn Caspar had solved the problem. While the others were watching the fruitless struggles of Glen and Sumner from one side of the raft he had slipped overboard from the other, and swam diagonally across the current to a hedge of oleanders, the tops of which were still above water. This hedge extended to the river, and pa.s.sed within fifty yards of the shrubbery in which the canoe was caught.

When Winn reached the oleanders he was considerably below the raft, and of course nearly twice as far from the canoe as when he started. He had antic.i.p.ated this, however, and now began to work his way back against the current by pulling himself from one bush to another. When he reached a point abreast the raft the others saw him and shouted. He only waved his hand in reply and kept on, while they watched him with eager interest. As he gained a position opposite the canoe they shouted again, but still he kept on, until he was nearly a hundred yards above it.

Then, after a long rest, he left the friendly oleanders, and struck out with brave strokes for the coveted object. He was now again swimming diagonally across the current, and knew that even should he miss the canoe, he would be borne down to the raft. But he did not miss it. He had calculated too well for that; and when he again reached the raft, he brought the _Psyche_ with him.

He was chilled to the bone, numb, and sick with exhaustion; but for such a royal cheer as greeted him, and the praises that his companions showered upon him, he would have dared and suffered twice as much. At the same moment, as if to encourage such brave deeds, the sun shone out warm and bright, transforming the whole character of the scene with its cheery warmth.

Sumner Rankin was ready, and with a light heart he stepped into his beloved craft. Then, with vigorous strokes of his double-bladed paddle, he shot away towards the river, where he was to remain until he could persuade a boat of some kind to come to the relief of his fellow-sufferers.

In spite of the sunlight and their hopes of rescue, the long hours pa.s.sed slowly aboard the _Venture_. There was little to do, and nothing to eat, though Solon did succeed in making a pot of coffee, which they drank without sugar or milk. In one respect, however, it was the most successful day of the _Venture's_ entire cruise; for during those tedious hours Billy Brackett and Winn accomplished the object for which it had been undertaken. They sold the raft. In gazing over his flooded plantation and planning for its future, Mr.

Manton realized that with the subsidence of the waters he would have immediate use for a large quant.i.ty of lumber.

"Why not buy ours?" suggested Winn.

"Why not?" answered Mr. Manton.

Five minutes later the bargain was completed that transferred the ownership of the _Venture_, and crowned Major Caspar's undertaking with success. It was such a satisfactory arrangement that they only wondered they had not thought of it before.

"Here the lumber is, just where I want it, and not a cent of freight to pay," said Mr. Manton.

"Now you and I can get back to Caspar's Mill, and help your father out with that contract; and it is high time we were there too," said Billy Brackett to Winn. "h.e.l.lo! What's this? The _Psyche_ coming back again? If it is, young Rankin must be having a fit, for he's black in the face."

"It's Quorum!" shouted Worth. "In the _Cupid_, too! Of all things, that is the very last I should ever have expected to see!"

Sure enough, it was the faithful negro progressing slowly and with such awkwardness that the anxious spectators expected to see him upset at each moment. Nevertheless, he finally succeeded in reaching the raft; and as they hauled him aboard he gasped, with thankfulness,

"Dat de seckon time dish yer n.i.g.g.e.r ebber bin in one ob dem ar c.o.o.ners, an' him hope he be good an' daid befo' him ebber sperimentin' wif um agen!"

Quorum had come from the great house, where the _Cupid_ was the sole craft to be had. It was only after hours of persuasion and semi-starvation that he had been induced by the other refugees to make the trip to the raft, which they had discovered soon after daylight.

He described a pitiful state of affairs as existing among the hungry throng he had just left, and declared that another day without food would witness great suffering in the crowded house.

Even as he related his story, those gathered about him were startled by the shrill note of a steam-whistle coming from the direction of the river. Sumner had found relief, and was bringing it to them.

During the hours that pa.s.sed so slowly on the raft, the brave little _Psyche_ had cruised here and there over the broad Mississippi sea, now hailing some boat that refused to stop, and then chasing another that it failed to overtake. Finally, late in the afternoon, Sumner discovered a trail of black smoke coming up-stream and towards him. As he anxiously watched it, trying to decide which way he should go to head it off, he discovered a white banner with a scarlet cross flying out cheerily just beneath the trail of smoke. Then he knew that help was at hand, and no matter what other boats might do, that one would stop at his signal.

As it drew near, he was amazed to see that instead of a river steamer, such as he had expected, the red-cross boat was a fine sea-going yacht; and as she came dashing towards him, her sharp stem cleaving the brown waters like a knife, her shining black hull, varnished houses, polished metal, and plate-gla.s.s flashing in the light of the setting sun, this sailor son of a sailor father thought her the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She slowed down at his signal, and in another minute he was alongside.

A line was flung to him, and making it fast to the _Psyche's_ painter, he clambered up a ladder that had been dropped from the gangway. As he reached the deck, a fine-looking young fellow, apparently but little older than himself, and wearing a natty yachting uniform, stepped forward to meet him.

Sumner briefly explained his errand, and pointing to the red-cross flag at the foremast-head, added that he believed aid might be expected from those who sailed under it.

"Indeed it may," responded the other, heartily; "and our present business is to discover just such cases as you describe. Although the _Merab_ is, as you see, a private yacht, in which we happened to put into New Orleans during a winter cruise to the southward, she is at present in the service of the Red Cross Society, of which I am a member, and devoted to the relief of sufferers by this awful flood.

May I ask your name? Mine is Coffin--Tristram Coffin; though I am better known as Breeze McCloud, and that of my friend (here he turned to another young man, also in navy blue) is Mr. Wolfe Brady."

Half an hour later the beautiful _Merab_ lay at anchor as near the stranded raft as it was safe to venture, and its occupants were being transferred to her hospitable deck by one of her boats. Another boat, laden with provisions, was on its way to the starving refugees in the great house.

The young owner of the _Merab_ insisted that all those who came from the raft should be his guests, at least for that night.

The invitation was accepted as promptly and heartily as it had been given, and soon afterwards two very hungry but very merry parties sat down to bountiful dinners in two entirely distinct parts of the yacht.

Along the mess-table of the galley--or the "camboose," as the yacht's cook insisted upon calling it--were ranged three gentlemen of color, each of whom treated his companions with the greatest deference, though at the same time believing himself to be just a little better posted in culinary matters than either of the others.

"Dish yer wha' I calls a mighty scrumptious repas'," exclaimed Solon, after a long silence devoted to appeasing the pangs of his hunger.

"But fo' de true ole-time cookin' gib me de Moss Back kitchin befo' de wah."

"I specs dat ar' berry good in hits way," remarked Quorum; "same time I hain't nebber eat nuffin kin compare wif de cookin' er dem Seminyole Injuns what libs in de Ebberglades. Dat's whar I takin my lesson."

"Sho, gen'l'muns! 'pears to me lak you don't nebber go on er deep-sea v'yge whar you gets de genuwine joe-flogger, an' de plum-duff, an' sich like," said Nimbus, the yacht's cook. "Ef you had, you wouldn' talk."

In the luminous after-saloon the other party was seated at a table white with snowy damask, and gleaming with silver, which was at once the pride and care of old Mateo, the Portuguese steward.

It was a party so overflowing with merriment and laughter, jokes and stories, that from one end of the table the young owner of the yacht was moved to call to his friend at the other,

"I say, Wolfe, this reminds me of the mess aboard the old _Fish Hawk_, when we were 'Dorymates' together off Iceland."

"It reminds me," said Glen Elting, "of the jolly mess of the Second Division, when Billy Brackett and Binney and I were 'Campmates'

together in New Mexico."

Said Sumner Rankin, "It reminds me of the cabin mess of the _Transit_, when we went 'Canoemates' together, through the Everglades. Eh, Worth?"

"While I," chimed in Winn Caspar, "am reminded of the happy mess-table of the good ship _Venture_, on which we 'Raftmates' have just floated for more than a thousand miles down the great river."

[Ill.u.s.tration: A reunion of "mates."]

"Gentlemen," said Mr. Manton, rising, and holding high a gla.s.s filled with amber-colored river-water, "as I seem to have become a shipmate of Dorymates, Campmates, Canoemates, and Raftmates, I am moved to propose a toast. It is, 'Long life and prosperity, health and happiness, now and forever, to all true mates.'"