Then we tried working to the right instead of the left, but with
no better success. The force of the current, coming with all its
speed against the unwieldy raft, was irresistible. Time and again
we shoved round and started upstream, after incredible labor,
only to be dashed back again against the rock.
We tried our spears, but their shafts were so slender that they
were useless. We took the oar and, placing its end against the
wall, shoved with all our strength. The oar snapped in two and we
fell forward against the wall. We tore off some of the strips of
hide from the raft and tried to fasten them to the wall on either
side, but there was no protuberance that would hold them. Nothing
remained to be done.
Harry and I held a consultation then and agreed on the only
possible means of escape. I turned to Desiree:
"Can you swim?"
"Parfaitement," she replied. "But against that"--pointing to
the whirling water--"I do not know. I can try."
I, who remember the black fury of that stream as it swept past
us, can appreciate the courage of her.
We lost no time, for the foulness of the air was weakening us
with every breath we took.
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