The canoe was now in a part of the river which looked like a lagoon1 bounded on every side by sand-hills, and it had no visible outlet2, nor was there any current. But every now and again air bubbles came up from the bottom, and at one place the water appeared to move in a circular direction. Smith gave a stroke or two of his paddle, and the canoe came within the influence of this circle.
It moved slowly round and round. Meantime the Baker3 sat motionless with a fallen jaw4; and even Kitty seemed disturbed.
"What is it?" he asked at length.
"It's a river sink," said Smith gloomily; "the water goes in the sand or under it."
"Rot," cried the Baker; "there must be a way out."
He took his paddle again, and made the canoe move fast. But behind each little mound5 of sand was only a bay. It was true there was no outlet.
"Is this another billabong?" he cried.
But Smith shook his head.
"This is a true river, but here is its sink," he answered. "It's not such an uncommon6 thing. There's one on the Humboldt River in Western America."
"And does it come up again?" asked the Baker.
"How can I tell?" cried Smith impatiently. "What are we to do?"
"And how the devil can I h'answer that?" said the Baker.
They were again in the slow circle of the sinking water, moving slowly round and round.
"Did you ever see anything like this, Kitty?" asked Smith; but the girl shook her head, and was silent.
"Shove her into the sand," said Smith. And he went ashore7. He climbed with difficulty upon the highest dune8, and looked west. Presently he called to the others.
"Come up and tell me what you can see, if you can see anything."
They ploughed their way through the sand, and stood by him, looking west.
"You, Baker?" said Smith.
And shading his eyes, the Baker looked across the glaring, white, uneven9 plain, rolling in big sand waves, with here and there a few wattles upon its barren surface.
"There may be a bit of a bluish range out yonder, but I ain't sure," said he.
"You, Kitty?" asked Smith.
"There's a big tree, Smith," said the girl.
And Smith nodded.
"It stands by itself," he said, "and the trunk of it isn't to be seen. What shall we do, Baker?"
"I guess I'm finished," he said. "I'd rather stay and die where there's water."
He sat down, and looked despairing for the first time. It made Smith pluck up courage. It would never do for both to be down at once.
"Cheer up, old man," he said. "I guess this river must come out again. It's not likely to go into the bowels11 of the earth. And that tree is not more than thirty miles away. We can do that easy."
"No water-bags," said the Baker.
And Smith sighed. If the sand were as heavy all the way they could hardly hope to do much more than a mile an hour. If they started at sundown or a little before, that would mean toiling12 through the night, only to reach it by the next night, if they had no other bad luck.
"We must try it," he said. "Let's have the canoe up. It will give us a bit of shade. And we must start the moment the sun begins to go down."
They dragged the boat out of the water, and laying it bottom upmost, scooped13 some of the sand away on the south side. They could, at any rate, get shelter for their heads.
But Kitty would not lie down. She asked the Baker for his knife, and went away a little distance.
"She's after guanners," said the Baker. But he was wrong.
She came back in half an hour, or even less, and dumped what looked like a particularly fat and shapeless 'possum down by him. He felt it, gave a cry of joy, and, catching14 hold of her, kissed her most violently.
"What's up?" said Smith, withdrawing his head from his hole.
"What's up," said the Baker deliriously15, "why, this is up. Mrs. Mandeville is a darling, and cleverer than they make 'em. She's made a water-bag, Smith."
"What?" said Smith.
"She done it with the bloomin' old 'possum skin," cried the Baker, hugging Kitty still more violently; "ain't she a darlin'; just tying up the neck 'ole and three of 'is legs."
"Kitty," said Smith, "you're a genius, and have very likely saved our lives."
But he wondered why he had not thought of it himself. They started within an hour on their heavy and toilsome journey, as the hot sun went down a peculiar16 and bloody17 red. They had nothing to eat, and only about three quarts of water between them.
Smith, taking his direction by the setting sun, led the way, and the others followed side by side. As soon as it became dark, a star served him as a compass till midnight.
The aspect of the sand desert in the darkness was one of peculiar desolation, and the fact that it rolled sufficiently18 to prevent them seeing fifty yards ahead, made them exercise caution even when caution appeared unnecessary. They could not tell whether some black-fellows who knew the country might not cross it occasionally, and they might possibly stumble upon them sleeping. But as the heavy hours passed, and the labour of merely lifting their feet became painful, their needless caution vanished. They went blindly, and hardly noticed the visible changes in the sky.
For now there was a cool, quick breeze springing from the north-west quarter, and in the low north-west were clouds.
Just as the wind became strong enough to blow the sand in their teeth, it suddenly failed, and the air got hot and heavy once more. But it seemed hotter than it had been; the sweat poured from them and ran saltly upon their lips. And still the clouds grew in the north-west, until at last they suddenly obscured the star by which their leader steered20. He stayed till the others joined him.
"Rain," he said, pointing to the heavy cloud bank. And as he spoke21 forked lightning ran upon the clouds and split them wonderfully, opening intense and awful depths.
As the Baker opened his mouth to speak, he heard a sound such as he had never heard before.
"Listen!" he cried, "what is it?"
And Smith stood still as he heard a roar which was not thunder nor loosed waters. It was the sound of a tornado22 in the desert, and he saw even in the dark a dun cloud low down, but close upon them. For as the distant thunder roared at last, another flash of lightning showed the white sand sea as in noon-day, and he beheld23 the desert rise.
"Lie down!" he cried, and the next moment the wind swept over them with a roar, and the grit24 flew like fine shot, screaming, and they grasped at unstable25 sand, which fled from between their fingers, to hold to the moving earth. At last they grasped each other and waited as the sand piled about them, as if it was alive, and got into their eyes and their hair and their dry mouths. They could not speak, and if they could have spoken, their voices would have been swallowed up; they could not open their eyes, and if they could they would have seen no more than if they had lain drowning in a turbid26 flood. But there was no rain.
Through the frightful27 uproar28 and the red blast there came now incredible and incessant29 flashes of lightning, which burnt into their brains even as they lay face down with closed eyes. And through the vast diapason of the organic storm were short splitting roars which shocked and half deafened30 them. They felt like blind beasts stricken of God in the wilderness31; they were scapegoats32 for the crimes of things, and then they were nothing but struggling physical blots33 of mere19 suffering life. For the sand drifted upon them and covered them up. They struggled out of it, and were rolled over. They tore at each other for something to hold to.
They tore at each other for something to hold to.
And then as suddenly as it came, so suddenly the dry storm passed, and went howling across the wilderness in the chariot of the winds. For now, overhead, the stars were shining, and the moon was clear-cut and bright and splendid.
They rose out of the sand which had so nearly been their grave, and spat34 thick dust from their parched35 mouths.
"Where's the water?" asked Smith.
And Kitty gave a cry.
"I've lost it," she said.
And their being half-blind gave them a horrible shock. For it lay at their very feet. The girl had held on to it until the very last gust36.
"That was a close one," said the Baker, "and now I 'ope we've done. The devil must have his finger in our pie. But after this we should get through."
"Don't be too sanguine37," said Smith. But there he asked for something quite beyond his chum's strength. For the Baker's remarks on the storm, and the desert, and their luck, were of an extremely sanguine nature; at least, his one adjective was.
And Kitty, too, was about as badly frightened as she could be. Though sand storms are not uncommon in the bush, yet she had never had such an experience as this. She clung closely to the Baker when they resumed their interminable tramp.
"Cheer up, old girl," said the East Ender, "we'll be in the Mile End Road yet. I'll show you life."
And Smith, for the first time in a week, burst into a shout of laughter.
"If Smith can smile that way," said the Baker, "there ain't nothing very wrong, not to say reely wrong. But when 'e bites that 'air moustache of 'is, and shuts 'is eyes, that's when I funk it, day or night. What's o'clock, Smith?"
"It's five-and-twenty to three, by the clock on Bow Church," said Smith.
"Gahn," said the Baker. And they went on through the sand in silence.
Presently Smith stopped.
"Did you hear anything, Baker?" he asked.
"Distant thunder," said the Baker.
"Um," said Smith, "I don't know."
But he walked on again.
"D'ye reely think we shall strike that bloomin' river agin, Smith?" he asked.
"It's quite likely, Baker. It's pretty sure to come out somewhere. And if this infernal desert ends at the tree yonder, it may be there."
"What kind of a tree is it?"
"A pine, I suppose," said Smith, "one of the beautiful useful colonial pines."
"Yes," cried the Baker; "drive a tin tack38 into a board, and it splits from one end to the other. That's it. But I wish we was hout of this. And I'm as 'ungry as I can stick. How goes it, Kitty, my girl?"
Kitty came closer to him, and smiled.
"More thunder," said the Baker, presently. And then he stopped. "Smith, what's up? Look at it; look."
And right ahead of them there was a great jet of sand. It rose in a cloud, and then died away. There was another low roar.
"What is it?" said Smith to himself, and then he turned on the Baker. "How should I know?"
When they came to the place where the jet was, they found nothing but a deeper hollow than usual.
"Perhaps it's one of those whirlwinds, dust devils some call 'em," said the Baker, whom the strange phenomenon had frightened.
But the dawn was growing up behind them like a magical golden mango plant, and the light gave him courage.
"We'll do it," he cried cheerfully. "And as for the bloomin' tree, I'm beginning to see it myself. Let's take a spell, Smith. I'm that tired I can 'ardly stir."
As Smith was fearfully tired, too, he did not require much asking, and they sat down. And continually there was the sound of distant thunder. Once it was not distant, but quite near, and the very desert trembled.
"Can it be an earthquake?" asked Smith. But he could not remember any happening in Australia, and he dismissed the notion. He lay back on the sand, and half went to sleep.
Presently the Baker caught him by the shoulder.
"Wake up, Smith," he cried, in a curious voice so unlike his own that Smith fairly jumped. "Come, get out of this."
And he saw the Baker ghastly pale.
"What's up?" he cried.
But Mandeville was stumbling blindly up the dune towards Kitty, who continually rose and fell again on a steep slope.
But as he ran with labouring limbs, the sand ran down beneath him. He did not think, he could not, but it seemed to him that some black horror was behind, that he was in a nightmare in which he could make no progress. And looking up—yes, looking up, he said he saw the Baker on the top, shouting madly, "Come, come," and the man looked over and past him.
He made an incredible effort, and fell flat, but rose and leaped. As he fell again, the Baker caught his hand.
"Hold my feet, Kitty," he cried, and the girl clutched his ankles.
The next moment Smith was on the top, and looked back on a round pit about thirty yards across, which went down to a point at a rapidly increasing angle. And the sand perpetually ran down the side; he could see it moving; but still the pit deepened and deepened.
But the Baker clutched him.
"Come away," he said in a whisper. And just then there was a black mouth to the pit, a little funnel41 hole, which grew till it was big enough for ten men to drop through. And the sand drained over its edges into a bottomless chasm42.
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1
lagoon
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| n.泻湖，咸水湖 | |
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2
outlet
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| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
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3
baker
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| n.面包师 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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5
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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6
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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7
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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8
dune
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| n.(由风吹积而成的)沙丘 | |
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9
uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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10
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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11
bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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12
toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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13
scooped
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| v.抢先报道( scoop的过去式和过去分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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14
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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15
deliriously
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| adv.谵妄（性）；发狂；极度兴奋/亢奋；说胡话 | |
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16
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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17
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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18
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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19
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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20
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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21
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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22
tornado
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| n.飓风，龙卷风 | |
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23
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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24
grit
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| n.沙粒，决心，勇气；v.下定决心，咬紧牙关 | |
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25
unstable
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| adj.不稳定的，易变的 | |
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26
turbid
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| adj.混浊的，泥水的，浓的 | |
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27
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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28
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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29
incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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30
deafened
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| 使聋( deafen的过去式和过去分词 )； 使隔音 | |
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31
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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32
scapegoats
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| n.代人受过的人，替罪羊( scapegoat的名词复数 )v.使成为替罪羊( scapegoat的第三人称单数 ) | |
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33
blots
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| 污渍( blot的名词复数 )； 墨水渍； 错事； 污点 | |
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34
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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35
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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36
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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37
sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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38
tack
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| n.大头钉；假缝，粗缝 | |
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39
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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41
funnel
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| n.漏斗；烟囱；v.汇集 | |
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42
chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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