Prisoners of Chance

I find it poor work transcribing so much regarding myself in recounting these small adventures, yet how else may I tell the story rightly? This all occurred so long ago the young man of whom I write seems hardly the same old man who puts pen to paper. The impression grows upon me that I merely narrate incidents which befell a friend I once knew, but who has long since passed from my vision.

It was wearying work, toiling up the muddy Arkansas, and in the end disastrous. Occasionally, for miles at a stretch, our hearts were gladdened by a curve toward the northward, yet we drew westerly so much we became fearful lest the Jesuit had made false report on the main course of the stream. Every league plunged us deeper into strange, desolate country, until we penetrated regions perhaps never before looked upon by men of our race. The land became more attractive, the sickly marsh giving place to wide, undulating plains richly decorated with wild grasses, abloom with flowers, bordered by a thick fringe of wood. Toward the end of our journeying by boat, after we had passed two cliffs upreared above the water, the higher rising sheer for two hundred feet, we perceived to the northward vast chains of hills rising in dull brown ridges against the sky-line, seemingly crowned with rare forest growth to their very summits. During all these days and nights in only two things could we deem ourselves fortunate--we discovered no signs of roving savages, while wild animals were sufficiently numerous to supply all our needs.

Three days' journey beyond the great cliff--for we voyaged now during the daylight, making camp at nightfall--I became convinced of the utter futility of further effort. By this time I had recovered sufficiently from my wound to assume a share of labor at the oars, and was pulling that afternoon, so my eyes could glance past the fiery red crop of the Puritan, who held the after-oar, to where the Captain and Madame rested in the stern. I remarked De Noyan's dissatisfied stare along the featureless shore we skirted, and the lines of care and trouble becoming daily more manifest upon Madame's face. Thus studying the two, I cast about in my own mind for some possible plan of escape.

They had been conversing together in low tones, so low, indeed, no words reached me, while the preacher knew nothing of the language employed. Nevertheless I could guess its purport. It was sufficiently clear to all of us that we merely wasted strength longer breasting the swift current of this river, and were constantly drawing farther from our goal. Yet I was of proud spirit in those days, finding it not easy to swallow my hastily spoken words, so I continued to pull steadily at the heavy oars, not seeing clearly how best to conquer myself, confess my former mistake, and advise retreat. Fortunately a stronger influence than false pride urged me to action. Marking again how sadly Eloise drooped her sobered face above the water, it put the heart of a man in me to acknowledge my error, offering such amends as were still possible.