W  
E are going to have a change of weather, I reckon," Hiram said one afternoon as they were drifting down the stream during their second voyage. "You have been lucky since we started, but we are going to have a change at last; and I can tell you when it blows here it's a caution. They have been having a lot of rain up the country, for the river has been rising regular for the last ten days. We had best make fast for the night, and the sooner we does it the better, for the wind is getting up fast and the rain is just a-going to begin."
In a quarter of an hour the boat was moored to a great tree at the lower end of an island.
 
"We shall be snug here," he said, "and out of the way of the drift that will be coming down presently. You can turn in and take a long spell of sleep to-night, for sometimes those storms last for days when they come on this time of year, and you will see there will be a sea on that the boat could hardly live in. I wish we had stopped two hours ago; there was a creek where we could have run her in and been snug all through it, but I didn't think it was coming up so quick, and it's too far on[108] to the next place to risk it; however, I expect we shall do very well here."
 
In another half-hour the gale burst upon them furiously, and Frank congratulated himself that the boat was snugly moored. The thick muddy water of the river was speedily lashed into angry waves; the rain came down in torrents, and although the left-hand bank was but a quarter of a mile distant it was soon lost to view. Frank was glad to leave the deck and crawl into the little cabin, and sit down to a hot meal which the negro cook had prepared.
 
"Better here than outside, my lad," Hiram said. "I can go as wet as any man if need be, but I like to keep a dry jacket when I can. The wind is just howling outside. I reckon this is going to be a bigger storm nor ordinary, and I have seen some biggish storms on the Mississippi too. I have had some narrer escapes of it, I can tell you, special in the days before there was nary a tug on the river, and we had to row or pole all the way up; besides there ain't so many trees brought down as there used to be in a flood, seeing as the country is getting more and more cleared every day.
 
"I reckon the time will come when you will be able to go up either the Mississippi or Missouri to the upper waters without seeing a tree drifting down, and when there won't be a snag in their beds. I mind the time when the snags were ten times worse than they is now. I mind once we ran on one of the darned things in pretty nigh as wild a night as this is going to be. I had six hands along with me, and we wanted to get down, 'cause we knew the old man would have a cargo ready for us, and we wanted a run of a day or two on shore at[109] Orleans before we started up again, so we held on. The wind was higher than we reckoned on, and we was just saying we should have done better to tie up, when there was a crash. I thought at first that she would have gone over with the shock, but she didn't—not that it would have made much odds, for there was a snag through her bottom, and the water pouring in like a sluice. It was darkish, but we could make out there was some trees a boat's-length or two ahead which had been caught as they rolled down by another snag, and hung there. The boat didn't float more than a minute after she struck, and then we were all in the river, those who couldn't swim gripping hold of the oars and poles; half a minute and we were all clinging to the boughs, and hoisting ourselves as well as might be clear of the water.
 
"I tell you, lad, that was a night. It wasn't that we was drenched to the skin with the rain pouring down, and the wind cutting through us—that kind of thing comes natural to a boatman—but it was the oncertainty of the thing. The trees moved and swayed with the waves and current; the flood we knew was rising still, and any moment they might break away from the snag and go whirling along, over and over, down the river. Even if they didn't break away of theirselves, another tree might drive down on us, and if it did, the chances was strong as the hull affair would break loose.
 
"All that night and all next day we hung on, and then the wind went down a bit, and a nigger who had made us out from the shore came off in a dug-out and took us ashore in two trips. That war a close shave. The wind was northerly and bitter cold, and I don't believe as we could have hung on another night more nor that.[110] Next morning, when we turned out from the nigger's hut to have a look round, there wasn't no sign of them thar trees, they had just gone down the river in the night. Yes, I have had a good many narrow shaves of it, but I do think as that war the narrowest."
 
"Well, I am heartily glad," Frank said, "that we are tied safely up, out of the way of floating trees, snags, or anything of the kind. I always like hearing the wind when I am snug, and I shall sleep sound knowing that I am not going to hear your shout of 'Watch on deck' in my ear."
 
In spite of the howling of the gale Frank slept soundly. But he could scarcely believe that it was broad daylight when he awoke; the light was dim and leaden, and when he went out from the cabin he was startled at the aspect of the river. The waves had risen until it resembled an angry sea, the yellow masses of water being tipped with foam; the clouds hung so low that they almost touched the top of the trees; the rain was still falling, and the drops almost hurt from the violence with which they were driven by the wind. The river had risen considerably during the night, and the lower end of the island was already submerged; boughs of trees and driftwood were hurrying along with the stream, and more than one great tree passed, now lifting an arm high in the air, now almost hidden in the waves, as it turned over and over in its rapid course. Frank felt glad indeed that the boat lay in comparatively sheltered waters, though even here the swell caused her at times to roll violently.
 
"What do you think of it, lad?" Hiram, who had risen some time before Frank, asked.
 
"It is a wonderfully wild scene," Frank said enthusiastically, "a grand scene! I should not have had an idea[111] that such a sea could have got up on any river. Look at that great tree rolling down, it looks as if it was wrestling for life."
 
"The wrestle is over, lad, there ain't no more life for that tree; it will just drift along till it either catches on a sandbank and settles down as a snag, or it will drift down to the mouth of the Mississippi, and may be help to choke up some of the shallow channels, or it may chance to strike the deep channel, and go away right out into the Gulf of Florida, and then the barnacles will get hold of it, and it will drift and drift till at last it will get heavier than the water, and then down it will go to the bottom and lie there till there ain't no more left of it. No, lad, there ain't no more life for that tree."
 
"May be it will wash ashore near the city, or some plantation," Frank said, "and be hauled up and cut into timber, or perhaps into firewood. After all, the useful life of a tree begins with its fall."
 
"Right you are, lad; yes, that might happen, and I am glad you put it in my mind, for somehow I have always had a sorter pity for a tree when I see it sweeping down in a flood like this. Somehow it's like looking at a drowned man; but, as you say, there's a chance of its getting through it and coming to be of use after all, and what can a tree wish better than that? But we had best be hauling the boat up to the tree and shifting the rope up the trunk a bit; it's just level with the water now, and was nigh eight feet above when we tied it yesterday. I tell you if this goes on there will be some big floods, for it will try the levees, and if they go there ain't no saying what damage may be done in the plantations."
 
All day the wind blew with unabated fury, and[112] when evening came on Frank thought that it was increasing rather than diminishing in force.
 
"Let's have a glass of grog and tumble in, my lad," Hiram said, "it gives one the dismals to listen to the wind." They had scarcely wrapped themselves in their blankets when the boat swayed as if struck by an even stronger blast than usual; then there was a sudden crash, which rose even above the howling of the gale.
 
"What's that?" Frank exclaimed, sitting up.
 
"It's the tree," Hiram began; but while the words were in his mouth there was a shock and a crash, the roof of the little cabin was stove in, and the boat heeled over until they thought it was going to capsize. Frank was thrown on to the floor with the violence of the shock, but speedily gained his feet.
 
"What has happened?" he exclaimed.
 
"The tree has gone," Hiram said; "I have been looking at it all the afternoon, but I didn't want to scare you by telling you as I thought it might go. It's lucky it didn't fall directly on us, or it would have knocked the boat into pieces. The door is jammed. Get hold of that hatchet, lad, and make a shift to get your head out to look round and see what we are doing. Do you hear them niggers holloaing like so many tom-cats? What good do they suppose that will do?"
 
"I can't see anything," Frank said when he looked out; "it's pitch dark. I will make this hole a bit bigger, and then I will take the lantern and crawl forward and see what has become of the blacks. I am afraid the tree has stove the boat in: look at the water coming up through the float-boards."
 
"Ay, I expect she is smashed somewhere; it could[113] hardly be otherwise; I reckon this is going to be about as bad a job as the one I was telling you about. Here, lad, put this bottle of rum into your jacket and this loaf of bread; I will take this here chunk of cold beef; like enough we may want 'em afore we are done."
 
When Frank had enlarged the hole sufficiently to allow his body to pass through, he put the lantern through and then crawled out. He was in a tangle of branches and leaves. The head-rope was a long one; the tree had fallen directly towards them, and the boat was, as far as Frank could see, wedged in between the branches, which forked some forty feet above the roots; a cross branch had stove in the cabin top, and another rested across the scuttle of the cabin used by the negroes.
 
"Hand me the axe, sharp, Hiram," he said; "the niggers can't get out, and our bow isn't a foot out of water."
 
Hiram handed up the axe, seized another, and with a great effort squeezed himself through the hole and joined Frank in the fore-part of the boat, which was waist-deep in water.
 
"Never mind the branch, lad, that will take too long to cut through, and another two or three minutes will do their business; here, rip off two or three of those planks, that will be the quickest way."
 
Although impeded in their work by the network of boughs, they speedily got off two or three planks and hauled up the frightened negroes. It was but just in time, for there were but a few inches between the water and the top of the low cabin.
 
"Shut your mouths and drop that howling," Hiram said, "and grip hold of the tree; the boat will sink under our feet in another minute. Stick to your lantern, lad, a[114] light is a comfort anyhow; I'll fetch another from the cabin, and some candles; I know just where they are, and can feel them in the water."
 
In a minute he rejoined Frank, who was sitting astride of one of the branches.
 
"That's a bit of luck," he said; "the candles are dry. There ain't more than two feet of water in her aft."
 
Three or four minutes passed, and the boat still lay beneath their feet, sinking, apparently, no lower. "I will look round again," Hiram said; "it seems to me as she has got jammed, and won't go any lower."
 
Examining the boat, he found that it was so; she was so completely wedged among the branches that she could sink no lower.
 
"It's all right," he said joyously. "Jump down, all of you, and lend a hand and unreeve the halliards from the mast and bind her as tight as you can to the branches; pass the ropes under the thwarts. Make haste before she shakes herself free." For the tree, now well clear of the shelter of the land, was swaying heavily.
 
The work was soon done, and the boat securely fastened to the tree.
 
"How is it the tree lies steady without rolling over and over, Hiram?" Frank asked, after they paused on the completion of the work.
 
"I reckon it's the boat as keeps it steady, lad. As long as she lies here she is no weight, but she would be a big weight to lift out of water, and I reckon she keeps the whole affair steady. It couldn't be better if we had planned it. All these boughs break the force of the waves, and keep off a good bit of the wind too; we ain't going to do badly after all."[115]
 
"Pete, get me that half-bottle of rum from my locker and a tin mug. That is right. Now here is a good strong tot each for you to make your faces black again; you were white with fear when we got you out of that cabin, and I don't blame you; I should have been in just as bad a fright myself if I had been there, though I shouldn't have made such a noise over it. Still, one can't expect men of one colour to have the same ways as those of another, and I am bound to say that if the boat had gone down your boss would have lost four good pieces of property. Feel more comfortable—eh?"
 
The negroes grinned assent. Easily cast down, their spirits were as easily raised, and seeing that the white men appeared to consider that there was no urgent danger, they soon plucked up their courage.
 
"I think," Frank said, "the best thing will be to manage to get the cabin door open. We can put a tarpaulin over the hole in the roof, and we shall then have a shelter we can go into; the water is not over the lockers, but I shouldn't like to go in until we get the door open. If this tree did take it into its head to turn round, it would be awkward if there were two or three of us in there, with only that hole to scramble through."
 
"You are about right, lad; it will be a sight more comfortable than sitting here, for what with the rain and the splashing up of this broken water one might as well be under a pump."
 
The axes were called into requisition again, for the door was jammed too firmly to be moved.
 
"Chop it up, and shove the pieces under the tarpaulin, Sam; they will get a bit drier there, and we may want them for a fire presently; there is no saying how long we[116] may be in this here floating forest. That's right. Now, hang one of them lanterns up in the cabin. That's not so bad. Now, lad, our clothes-bags are all right on these hooks. I am just going to rig myself up in a dry shirt and jacket, and advise you to do the same; we may as well have the upper half dry if we must be wet below."
 
Frank was glad to follow Hiram's example, and a dry flannel shirt made him feel thoroughly warm and comfortable. He handed a shirt to each of the negroes, and the whole party, clustered in the little cabin, were soon comparatively warm and cheerful, in spite of the water, which came up to their knees, and when the boat rose on a wave, swashed up over the locker on which they were sitting. A supply of dry tobacco and some pipes were produced by Hiram, and the little cabin was soon thick with smoke.
 
"Taking it altogether," Hiram said, "I regard this as about the queerest sarcumstance that ever happened to me; it was just a thousand to one that tree would have smashed us up and sunk us then and thar. It was another thousand to one that when we were staved in we shouldn't have got fixed so that the boat couldn't sink; if any one had told it me as a yarn I should not have believed it."
 
"It has indeed been a wonderful escape," Frank said, "and I think now that we should be ungrateful indeed if every one of us did not fervently thank God for having preserved us."
 
"Right you are, lad; praying ain't much in my way—not regular praying; but we men as lives a life like this, and knows that at any moment a snag may go through the boat's bottom, thinks of these things at times, and knows that our lives are in God's hands. It ain't in nature to[117] go up and down this broad river, special at night, when the stars are shining overhead, and the dark woods are as quiet as death, and there ain't no sound to be heard but the lap of the water against the bow for a man not to have serious thoughts. It ain't our way to talk about it. I think we try to do our duty by our employers, and if a mate is laid up, he need never fear getting on a shoal for want of a helping hand; and when our time comes, I fancy as there ain't many of us as is afeared of death, or feels very bad about the account they say we have got to render arterwards. It's different with the niggers; it's their way to be singing hymns and having prayer-meetings, and such like. There is some as is agin this, and says it gives 'em notions, and sets them agin their masters; but I don't see it: it pleases 'em, and it hurts no one; it's just the difference of ways. I expect it comes to the same in the end; leastways, I have seen many a wreck in this here river, when whites and blacks have been a-looking death in the face together, and sartin the white man, even if he has been a hard man, ain't no more afraid to die than the black, generally just the contrary. That's my notion of things."
 
Frank nodded, and for a time there was silence in the cabin.
 
"How long are we likely to be in this fix?" Frank asked presently.
 
"Thar ain't no saying; supposing we don't bring up agin a snag—which the Lord forbid, for like, enough, the tree would shift its position, and we should find ourselves bottom upwards if we did—we may drift on for days and days. Still, we shall be safe to make ourselves seen as soon as the weather clears, and there are boats out again; we have only got to light a fire of wet wood to call their[118] attention. I don't expect this here gale will last much longer; after another day it ought to begin to blow itself out. As long as nothing happens to this tree, and the boat keeps fast where it is, there ain't nothing to make ourselves uncomfortable about. We'd best have a look at them lashings; I tell you, there is a tidy strain on them."
 
Examining the ropes carefully, they found some of them were already chafed, and, dragging out a piece of wet canvas from the lockers, they cut it into strips and lashed it round the ropes at the points where they were chafing. The strain was indeed very heavy, for the tree and the waterlogged boat rose but little with the waves, and the bow was submerged deeply every time a wave passed them, the gunwale being at no time more than a few inches out of water. Additional lashings were put on, and then Hiram and Frank returned to the cabin, and the latter dozed away the hours till morning, as did the negroes, Hiram remaining wide awake and watchful, and going out from time to time to look at the lashings. As soon as day broke Frank roused himself and went out; Hiram was just descending from one of the boughs.
 
"I have had a look round," he said; "I don't think it's blowing quite so hard, but thar ain't much change yet. It ain't not to say a cheerful kind of lookout."
 
Frank climbed up to take a view for himself, but he was glad to return very quickly to the shelter of the cabin. Overhead was a canopy of low grey cloud; around, a curtain of driving rain; below, a chaos of white-headed waves. The day passed slowly, and with little change. Sam found in the fore-part of the boat the iron plate on which he built his fire. They fixed this on the roof of the cabin, fastened a tarpaulin across the boughs so as to shelter it[119] from the rain and drift, and then, with some difficulty, managed to make a fire. Some hot coffee was first prepared, and a frying-pan was then put on and filled with slices of pork. The flour was wet, but Sam made some flat cakes of the wet dough, and placed them in the fat to fry when the pork was done.
 
"Not a bad meal that," Hiram said, when he had finished, "for a floating forest."
 
The negroes had now completely recovered from the effects of their fright and wetting, and their spirits, as usual, found vent in merry choruses.
 
"Just like children, ain't they?" Hiram said, as he and Frank re-entered the cabin, while the negroes continued to feast overhead, "crying one moment and laughing the next. But I have known some good uns among them too, as good mates to work with as a man could want, and as good grit as a white man." Another meal, later in the afternoon, alone broke the monotony of the day. The aspect of the weather was unchanged at nightfall, but Hiram asserted that the wind had certainly gone down, and that in the morning there would probably be a break in the weather. They smoked for some time, and then the negroes dozed off, with their chins on their chests; and Frank was about to make an effort to do the same, when Hiram, who had been going in and out several times, said suddenly, "I reckon we are out of the main stream; don't you feel the difference?"
 
Now that his attention was called to it, Frank wondered that he had not noticed it before. The waves were no longer washing over the fore-part of the boat, and the sluggish efforts of the tree and boat to rise and fall with the water had ceased. He was still more struck, when he[120] went outside, by the comparative silence. The wind still whistled overhead and swayed the branches, but the hiss and rustle of the water had ceased.
 
"We are out of the main stream, that's sartin," Hiram said, "though where we are is more nor I can tell till we get daylight."
 
Frank took the lantern and climbed up the bough which served as a lookout. It was pitch dark outside, and the surface of the water was no longer broken by white heads.
 
"Yes, we are certainly out of the main river, Hiram, and in behind some big islands. Where do you think it could be?"
 
"I reckon, lad, we are somewhere down near the mouth of the Arkansas. The stream has been running mighty strong for the last two days, and the wind, catching all these branches, must have helped us along a good bit. I reekon we can't be far away from the Arkansas. It's a bad stroke of luck drifting in here; we may expect to get hung up somewhere, and we shall be in a nice fix then, out of sight of boats going up and down, and with miles and miles of swamp stretching back from the shore. However, it will be time to think of that to-morrow. There ain't nothing for us to do; just lend us a hand, and we will get this iron plate off the roof. The tarpaulin keeps off the rain, and I will fetch a couple of blankets, and we can stretch ourselves out here; I despise going to sleep sitting up."
 
Frank was sound asleep in a few minutes. He had a confused notion of feeling a slight jerking motion, and of hearing Hiram say, "There, she is anchored"; but he did not suffer this to rouse him, and, dropping off, slept[121] soundly till morning. At the first stir Hiram made he was awake.
 
"We have had a goodish spell of sleep, I reckon, lad, and I feel all the better for having had my legs stretched out straight."
 
"So do I, ever so much; the wind seems to have gone quite down, and it has stopped raining."
 
"We shall have the sun up soon."
 
Frank was soon up in the lookout.
 
"I can see trees on both sides of us, but I can make out nothing more than that; there's a mist hanging over them, though it's clear enough on the water. We are not moving."
 
"I could have told you that," Hiram said, "didn't we get fast on something before we went to sleep last night?"
 
"Oh, I forgot about that; I was just off when you spoke, and didn't quite take it in. We are quite out of the current; the water is moving very sluggishly past us."
 
"So much the worse, lad; that's just what I fancied. We have got blown out of the stream, and got in behind some of the islands, and are perhaps at the mouth of one of the loops where there ain't no stream to speak of; useful enough they are when you are making your way up-stream, but no-account places to get stuck in. Now you darkeys below there, wake up, and let's have some food; you will soon have the sun up to warm you and dry your clothes a bit. By the time we have had our breakfast," he went on to Frank, "the mist will have lifted, and we shall have some chance of seeing where we have been cast away, and can talk over what's the best thing to be done in this here business."[122]
 
The iron plate was replaced on the cabin, the fire was lit, and coffee and fried bacon were soon ready. The first sparkle of the sun through the leaves brought a shout of delight from the negroes, and directly the meal was over they cut away some of the small branches and let the sun stream in on to the roof of the cabin.
 
"That's enough, boys," Hiram said; "by midday we shall be glad of the shade. Now, let you and I light our pipes, lad, and take a survey, and then talk this job over."
 
On looking round, they found that the passage, or creek, in which they were was some eighty yards wide; ahead it seemed to narrow; behind them, a bend shut out the view a quarter of a mile away.
 
"That's just what I expected. You see we have drove in here, and there's been just current enough to drift us on till the lower branches touched the bottom or caught in a snag; the water ain't flowing half a mile an hour now, and I reckon when the water begins to drop, which will be in a few days, if it holds fine, there won't be no current to speak of."
 
"But we are not going to stay here a few days, are we, Hiram?"
 
"Well, lad, I ain't no particular wish to stay here no time at all, if you will just pint out the way for us to be moving on."
 
"Well, we could all swim ashore," Frank said; "the distance is nothing, and all the blacks swim."
 
"And how fur do you reckon the shore to be, lad?"
 
"About forty yards," Frank said.
 
"I reckon it to be miles, lad—twenty, perhaps, or forty for aught I know."
 
Frank looked at his companion in surprise.[123]
 
"Yes, that is about it, lad. Don't you see them trees are all growing out by the water, and what looks to you like low bush is just the top of the underwood. The river, I reckon, must have riz twenty feet, and all this low land is under water. As I told you, we are near the mouth of the Arkansas, and for miles and miles the country ain't much better than a swamp at the best of times. You can swim to them trees, and roost up in the branches, if the fancy takes yer, and may be we may decide that's the best thing to do, when we have talked it over; but as to getting to land, you may put that notion out of your head altogether. I told you, lad, last night, I didn't like the lookout, and I don't like it a bit better this morning, except that I look to be dry and comfortable in another hour. What's to come after that I don't quite see."
 
Frank was silent. The prospect, now that he understood it, was unpleasant indeed. There they were with a disabled and waterlogged boat, in the middle of a district submerged for many miles, and surrounded beyond that by fever-stricken swamps, while the prospect of any craft happening to come along was remote indeed. For some minutes he smoked his pipe in silence.
 
"You consider it impossible for us to make our escape through the wood."
 
"Just unpossible, lad. We might make our way from tree to tree, like a party of monkeys, but we should get to creeks where we couldn't cross; we should be half our time swimming. We could take no food to speak of with us; we should get lost in the swamps, if ever we got through the forest. No, lad; my present idea is it is unpossible, though, if we detarmines at last there ain't nothing else for us to do but to try for it, Hiram[124] Little ain't the man to die without making a hard fight for his life; but I tell you, lad, I looks on it as unpossible. You have been on these banks with me, and you know how thick the trees and bushes grow, so that a snake could hardly make his way through them. When the river is at her level the ground ain't about a foot or two out of water, and when the river falls—and it mayn't fall to its level for weeks—it will just be a swamp of mud."
 
"Well, in that case," Frank said, "it seems to me that our only chance is to repair the boat."
 
"That's just my idee, young fellow. There is a biggish hole on each side, the ribs are smashed in, and a lot of damage is done, but we could make a shift to mend it if we could get her ashore; but there ain't no shore to get her to, that's the mischief of it; besides, here we are stuck, and if we were to cut away the tree to loose her she would go straight to the bottom."
 
"Yes, we mustn't cut her loose before we are alongside something. My idea is that if we first of all cut off all the boughs that are above us, close to the trunk, that will make a good deal of difference in the weight, and we should float higher. Then, with hatchet and saw, we must get rid of those below, taking a rope first to the trees and hauling her closer and closer alongside them as we get rid of the weight, till at last there is only the trunk and these two great arms that have nipped her. I think that way we might get alongside the trees."
 
"I reckon we might, lad. Yes, I don't see much difficulty about that. And what shall we do when we get there?"
 
"I should get under a big tree, like that one over there, with that great arm stretching over the stream. We've[125] got plenty of ropes, and I should fasten them from her bow and stern, and from her thwarts, tight to that arm overhead. When I got her fixed, I would chop away one of these arms that grip her, and let her float free. We have no tackle that would be of any use in hoisting her, but if we take the plug out of her bottom, she will empty as the river sinks, and hang there. Once she is in the air there will be no difficulty in patching her up."
 
A FLOOD ON THE MISSISSIPPI. A FLOOD ON THE MISSISSIPPI.
"That's a capital idee, young fellow," Hiram exclaimed, giving Frank a mighty pat on the shoulder. "I do believe it is to be done that way. I tell you, I did not see my way out of this fix nohow, but you have hit upon it, by gosh! Here, you darkies, get them axes and saws out of the cabin, and clear away this forest."
 
An hour's work cleared away all the wood above water. The sun was by this time well above the trees; the negroes woke up to life and cheerfulness in its warmth, and worked vigorously.
 
"Before we do anything more," Frank said, "I will swim with a light line to that tree, and then haul the tow-rope after me, and make it fast to it; it is possible that when we cut away some of the other boughs the whole affair may turn over and sink, but if the tow-rope is fast we may be able to drag it alongside."
 
When the rope was attached to the tree, they proceeded with their work. The two great arms were chopped through just beyond the point at which the boat was wedged, thus getting rid of the whole of the upper part of the tree.
 
"She's free now," Hiram said. "Stand in the middle of the boat, you boys; I can feel that a very little would sway her over now."[126]
 
The bow sank some inches, and fully half the boat was submerged.
 
"Now, you and I will get out at this end of the trunk, lad, and tow her in, stern foremost."
 
They got within ten yards of the tree before she again stuck, and it took them some hours' work to cut away the branch which projected under water; but at last this was done, and the boat was placed in position under the arm of the great tree they had pitched upon, and a number of ropes fastened firmly to the arm.
 
"Now we will have some dinner," Hiram said; "and while Pete is cooking it we will get ashore with the saw and cut the heads off some of these small trees, and fasten them to this trunk, so as to make a sort of raft that we can put all these tubs on. The ropes would never hold her with her cargo on board. I reckon some of the sugar is spoilt; but the boss always has good casks, and may be there ain't much damage done. The rum is right enough, and I reckon there won't be much spoilt except them bales of calico."
 
They worked hard, but it was late in the evening before the raft was formed and the cargo all shifted into it.
 
"Now, we will just chop off this arm and free her," Hiram said, "and then we can stretch ourselves out for the night. We have done a tidy day's work, I reckon, and have arned our sleep."
 
The arm was chopped through, and the boat was freed from the tree which had, in the first place, so nearly destroyed it, but which, in the end, had proved their means of safety. The raft was fastened alongside by a rope, and the negroes betook themselves to it for the night, while the two white men, as before, lay down to sleep on the cabin-top.