The Ferryman of Brill Part 3

Onward the waters rush, between lofty cliffs, at a distance of three miles, when they meet an opposing rock, and, circling round and round, form a fearful whirlpool. No one falling into that circling eddy has ever escaped with life. The stoutest boat would soon be dashed to pieces.

At length the waters find their way out by a narrow pa.s.sage, and rush onward into Lake Ontario. A long fall across the direct current of the River is known as the Horseshoe Fall. Standing on the British bank of the stream, it is seen on the right, with the American fall directly opposite the spectator. In the latter fall many fearful accidents have occurred.

The scenery above the Falls is very different to that below. In the latter the banks are high and precipitous, and the stream flows on 200 feet below the summit of the cliffs. Above the cataract, on the contrary, the river presents the appearance rather of a large lake. The woods, consisting of firs, and birch, and maple, come close down to the water, their branches overhanging the stream. Here and there are clearings. Many mills moved by water power, and numerous farms, extend along the banks on either side.

It was somewhere above the rapids that a young man, clad in homely costume but with the appearance and bearing of a gentleman, was walking by the river's brink. By his side was a fair girl. He was speaking to her earnestly and gently, but she seemed to be turning an indifferent ear to his words.

"I acknowledge your merits, Mr Carlton, but really I cannot see that I should be expected to give my heart and hand, as you ask me, to one who has not done anything to show that he is above the ordinary run of respectable young gentlemen." The girl spoke in a somewhat bantering tone.

"But really, Miss f.a.n.n.y Aveling, you are expecting too much at the present day. Gentlemen cannot go forth with a lance and fight in tournaments, as in days of yore, to win the admiration of the ladies of their love. I offer you an honest heart, and I have every reason to believe I shall establish a comfortable home; and really I think that is a more sensible thing than running the risk of getting a knock on the head for no purpose whatever."

"How fearfully matter-of-fact you are," answered f.a.n.n.y. "I tell you I do not like matter-of-fact people. If you had been a soldier or sailor, and had fought the battles of your country, and got wounded, and obtained a number of medals for your gallantry, I might possibly have felt differently towards you."

"But I have had no opportunity of doing anything of the sort," urged Frank Carlton. "I came out here to form an estate, and I have succeeded in what I undertook, while a number of other persons with similar opportunities have failed. I do not say this for the sake of boasting, but simply as a fact which is certainly not discreditable."

"Humdrum," answered the young lady, half to herself. "Numbers have done as well."

"So they have," said Frank Carlton, "and are married and settled, and have every reason to be thankful that they came to the country."

"Well, Mr Carlton, there is no use carrying on the conversation further," exclaimed f.a.n.n.y: "You ask me to give you my heart and hand; I frankly confess I have no inclination to do so."

"But, surely, you have led me to suppose you would," said Frank, in a tone of reproach.

"That was when I did not think you in earnest," said f.a.n.n.y. "If you had said this before, I should have given you an answer which might then have satisfied you."

"Nothing will satisfy me but 'yes,'" said Frank, "for I believe that you have more sense than you pretend to have."

"That is to say, you think I have sense enough to love you," said f.a.n.n.y, still in a tone of banter. "We part as friends, however, and if you insist on coming to call upon my sister, Mrs Barton, of course I cannot help it, only do not for a moment suppose that I give you any encouragement."

Frank Carlton, having graduated at Oxford, had come out a few years before to set up as a farmer in Canada. He had enjoyed the advantage of studying under a Scotch farmer for a year, and this gave him more knowledge of agricultural affairs than is possessed by many of the young men who go out to settle. He had also given his mind to the work, and what was of great importance, had withstood the temptations to idleness into which so many fall. He was also a man of refined tastes and habits, which he did not allow the rough life of a settler to make him abandon. Captain and Mrs Barton were among his nearest neighbours. He had been for some time a constant visitor at the house, and two little boys, the children of Mrs Barton, were his especial favourites.

f.a.n.n.y Aveling had, the year before, come out from England, and not long after her arrival Frank Carlton began to reflect that his house would be in a far better condition than it was at the present, if he could place a mistress at its head. He had had no reason to suppose that Miss Aveling was indifferent towards him, until the day on which the conversation which has been described took place. He was still, it must be owned, somewhat in doubt about the matter. He did not suppose that she cared for anybody else; indeed he knew of no visitor at the house likely to have won her affections. He therefore, as most men would have done under similar circ.u.mstances, lived on in the hope of ultimately winning her. Still, week after week pa.s.sed, and though he made frequent visits to Captain Barton's, Miss Aveling's manner towards him remained totally unchanged. At length, sanguine as he was, he began to fear that he had misplaced his affections. He also grew distant in his manner towards her, and he seldom paid a visit to the house of his former friends.

Mrs Barton could not but suspect the cause, for she, it must be owned, was favourable to Frank Carlton, and thought that her sister could not make a more desirable match.

"What more can you require in a man than Frank possesses, f.a.n.n.y?" she said one day to her sister.

"Yes," observed f.a.n.n.y, "he is honest, and he does not smoke, and he does not drink, and he does not use bad language, that I know of, and he's very respectable; in fact, in my opinion, he is made up of negatives."

"Oh, you foolish girl!" exclaimed Mrs Barton; "you want him to threaten to leave you for ever, or to jump down the Falls, or to commit some other outrageous act, and then perhaps your feelings would be worked up, and you would be ready to entreat him to remain and be yours."

"No, I tell you I don't care for him, that I know of, and don't know that I ever shall," answered f.a.n.n.y, petulantly. "I have made up my mind, when he next comes, to let him understand that very clearly."

As it happened, Frank paid another visit the following day to the Bartons. f.a.n.n.y certainly did contrive to show him that there were no hopes of her becoming his wife.

He would make a tour through the country, visit Toronto, Montreal, and perhaps go down to Quebec. Or he would make a trip to the Far West, across Lake Superior to the Red River Settlement, and visit the small band of his countrymen collected there. At first he thought he would start at once, and not pay a farewell visit to the Bartons.

It happened that Mrs Barton, her sister, and her two little boys, Frank's favourites, Ernest and Harry, were strolling about by the bank of the river. They had gone somewhere down in the direction of the rapids, when f.a.n.n.y exclaimed that the scenery, already tinged by the bright hue of autumn, was so beautiful that she must stop and make a sketch.

The two sisters sat down on the bank, while f.a.n.n.y, with the hand of an artist, rapidly sketched the scene. She had to employ the most gorgeous colours which her colour-box could supply, and even then could scarcely give sufficient brightness to the landscape. While she was sketching, the little boys ran along the bank, where, moored to the sh.o.r.e, they found a boat, and very naturally got into it. Their mother and aunt did not observe them. They got out the oars, and began to make believe that they were rowing. Now they pulled on one side and then on the other.

Harry, the youngest, tired of rowing, put in the oar, and began to play with the "painter." The boat had been carelessly secured, and by some means or other he let the painter slip. Ernest, in the meantime, who was still rowing, turned the boat round, and before the boys knew what was happening, they were drifting from the sh.o.r.e. Already, before they saw their danger, they were too far off to regain the bank. Often they had been told of the fearful risk of being carried off by the current.

They screamed with fear. Their cries aroused their mother and aunt.

Several people also had been attracted by them from a neighbouring farm, but no boat was to be seen at hand in which they could be followed.

Already the boat was moving down the current. It was still some distance from the rapids: but, unless stopped in its course, it must eventually reach them.

Mrs Barton and f.a.n.n.y cried in vain to the spectators to aid in rescuing the children. Some of the men ran along the bank up the stream, but others stood still, and declared they had no power to save the children.

"Still, if you would but swim in, you might get on board the boat before it has gone far," exclaimed Mrs Barton.

"And run a pretty fair chance of losing our own lives," was the reply made by some of the men.

Some way down, another boat was at length seen. It was a small, frail skiff, and moored very near the commencement of the rapids.

"Will any one try and save my children?" exclaimed Mrs Barton in despair.

Again the men shook their heads.

"Not for a thousand pounds. Before one could reach the boat in that rotten canoe, she would be among the rapids."

The fond mother and f.a.n.n.y became almost frantic with despair. Just at that moment a figure was seen bounding down from a neighbouring height.

In an instant, with a knife, he cut the painter securing the skiff to the sh.o.r.e. A pair of paddles were in the skiff. He leaped in and shoved off from the bank. Mrs Barton knew him, and so did f.a.n.n.y.

"It's Frank Carlton!" they exclaimed. "Oh, blessings on him! May G.o.d protect him!"

Already the boat was approaching the commencement of the rapids. Once in their power, even his st.u.r.dy arms could scarcely stem the current.

Not for one moment did he calculate the difficulty or danger he was to undergo. With rapid strokes he pursued the floating boat. How eagerly did the fond mother watch his proceedings! She stood apparently calm on the bank, only now and then extending her arms, as if she would draw back the boat which contained her loved ones.

Still, to those who looked on it seemed scarcely possible that the children could escape. If they were lost, so also would be Frank Carlton. Still he pursued. The motion of the boat which contained the boys showed its near approach to the rapids. In two or three minutes it would be within their power. It seemed hardly credible that he could reach it even in that time. Onward he went, every now and then turning his head round to watch the boat. Already it began to leap and toss.

The water foamed around it.

"See! he has got alongside!" exclaimed the people from the sh.o.r.e; "but will he have strength to stem the current on his return?"

A glance showed him that two oars were in the boat. Leaving his canoe to its fate, he leaped into the boat, and seized the oars. Now came a fearful struggle. Should an oar give way, he and his young friends must inevitably be lost. He nerved himself for the undertaking by offering up prayer for strength to One who alone can give it. Grasping the oars, he placed his feet firmly at the bottom of the boat, and rowed manfully.

At first it seemed to those who looked on that he made no way. The boat's head was up the stream, but still she seemed to be going slowly and surely downwards. He struggles on. The water foams around the boat on every side. Yes! he is making way--he has gained an inch, another and another. Slowly the boat moves onward, out of the power of the rapids. A foot is gained. Still, by the exertions he is making, his strength must become exhausted. He rows on and on; the boat makes headway. Surely the prayers of that fond mother are heard. The gallant young man renews his exertions. He is resolved, G.o.d helping him, to save the children. He thinks not of himself, or what will be the consequences to his own frame. The veins seem starting from his forehead. Those only who have gone through such a contest, can understand what he had to endure. The people from the neighbouring farms now eagerly crowd the sh.o.r.es, ready to render him a.s.sistance when he reaches it. Some, however, even now doubt whether he will accomplish the undertaking. Should his strength fail, even for an instant, the boat would quickly be carried back, with those on board, to destruction.

With all his strength he continues rowing, looking neither to the right hand nor the left. His eyes are on the young children who sit crouching down in terror at the bottom of the boat. With a smile, he endeavours to encourage them. Again and again he cries to Heaven for strength.

Gradually the boat approaches the sh.o.r.e. Now it has reached an upward eddy. Still he rows on, and the boat safely reaches the bank. Scarcely conscious of his success, he is lifted out of the boat, and eager hands restore the children to their mother. She clasps them to her bosom, and pours out her grat.i.tude to their deliverer. But there is one kneeling by his side who entreats those who stand by to bring some water to bathe his brow. The handkerchief tied round his throat is loosened. He returns to consciousness, and sees f.a.n.n.y Aveling bending over him. In a short time he declares himself sufficiently recovered to walk, and a joyful party returned to Barton Lodge.

Our tale is finished. Though he returned home that evening, Frank could not do otherwise than, the following morning, visit Barton Lodge, to enquire after the boys. f.a.n.n.y Aveling no longer received him as had been her wont.

"You have done something," she exclaimed. "Yes, I see it is not necessary for a man to go and fight, and kill his fellow-creatures, to be a hero. Oh, Frank, what a very silly girl I have been!"

Frank a.s.sured her he was confident she would be a wise woman in future, and it is scarcely necessary to add that Frank's establishment soon had a mistress at its head.

CHAPTER SIX.

FAITHFUL AND BRAVE