John Fitzgerald GB 05 Great Bra (13 page)

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passengers on the raft. I was surprised at how well Tom could steer the raft with his oar and oarlock. He kept the bow pointed downstream and the raft right in the middle of the river’s current. The raft picked up speed as it neared the rapids. Tom ordered the five paying passengers to sit down. But he remained standing, holding the handle of the oar.

“Man the braces!” Tom shouted as the raft entered the rapids. “Man the top sail!”

The raft bounced up and down, dousing everybody on board with water but Tom remained standing. Tom wasn’t fooling when he had promised his customers the thrill of a lifetime. The passengers were screaming and yelling like I’d never heard kids do before. And the kids running along the bank were carrying on as if they, too, were shooting the rapids. This was one time The Great Brain was giving the kids more than their money’s worth.

There was a big bend in the river below the rapids-1 left the bank of the river and took a shortcut. I got Bess to the landing place just as the raft came around the bend. When it was opposite me, Tom cupped one hand to his mouth.

“Ahoy the shore!” he shouted.

I hadn’t expected this. I cupped my hands to my mouth.

“Ahoy the raft!” I shouted.

“The good raft Explorer asking permission to come ashore!” Tom shouted.

“Permission granted!” I shouted.

Then Tom and all the passengers except Frankie jumped off the raft. They waded through the two-feet- deep water and pushed the raft to the riverbank.

Danny was so excited it looked as if his left eyelid would never be half closed again. “Thought we were a goner in those rapids, Captain,” he ^aid to Tom.

“It was a mighty rough sea. Matey,” Tom said. “But the good raft Explorer weathered it well.” Then he looked at the kids who had run along the riverbank. “These land-lubbers don’t know what they missed.”

The trip downstream had lasted about half an hour. It took a little longer to haul the raft back to the swimming hole. Tom said there was time for one more trip.

“How about me?” I asked.

Tom hesitated and then looked at Basil. “You ride Bess down to the landing place,” he said, “and take Frankie with you.”

Then he collected five cents from each of the next five passengers and the Explorer was off on its second voy-age.

It had been very exciting for me just watching the raft from the riverbank. But actually riding on it was the greatest thrill of my life. And Tom made it even more thrilling.

“Shiver my timbers!” he shouted as we entered the rapids. “By the Great Horn Spoon we are heading into a typhoon. Man the braces and hang on, men!”

And as we went through the rapids, I imagined I was standing on the bridge of my own ship in a raging typhoon.

After the second trip it was time for everybody to go home to do the evening chores. I rode Bess with Frankie as the mare pulled the raft to our barn.

“Why didn’t you just leave the raft at the swimming

hole?” I asked Tom as we entered the barn.

“And have some kids get up early in the morning and go for a free ride?” Tom asked as if I were the stupidest person he’d ever met, “I figure I can make one trip in the morning and two in the afternoon every day except Sun-day. Papa and Mamma wouldn’t stand for it on Sundays. Six kids three times a day for six days out of the week comes to five dollars and forty cents I’ll collect in fares. I hope you appreciate, J. D., that my great brain is going to make a fortune for you.”

“I appreciate it,” I said, and meant it.

Tom handed me a nickel. “I collected fifty cents in fares today,” he said. “Here is your ten percent commission.”

We unharnessed Bess. Then Tom sat on the railing of the corral fence while Frankie and I did the chores. He jumped down after we’d finished.

“You know, J. D.,” he said, putting an arm around my shoulder. “I’ve been thinking. I’ll be leaving for the academy in about three weeks. The weather here in Adenville is so mild you can run excursions on the river on Saturdays after school starts, at least during September and October. You could make ninety cents every Saturday if you owned the Explorer.”

“Are you going to give me the raft?” I asked.

“Of course not,” Tom said. “But I’ll make you a business proposition. You give me a dollar to pay for the rope I bought. And also your ten percent commission on fares until I leave and I’ll turn the Explorer over to you when I go back to the academy.”

I knew from some sad experiences that it always pays to think twice when making a deal with The Great Brain.

“I’ll think it over,” I said.

“What’s to think about?” Tom asked as if I’d insulted him. “During the next three weeks your ten percent commission will amount to a dollar and sixty-two cents. The dollar for the rope brings this up to two dollars and sixty-two cents. There are nine Saturdays in September and October. You would make ninety cents on each Saturday. That would amount to eight dollars and ten cents-Forget it, J. D. I’ll sell the Explorer to some kid who isn’t so dumb when it comes to figuring money.”

I sure as heck didn’t want to be known as a kid so dumb he didn’t know the difference between two dollars and sixty-two cents and eight dollars and ten cents.

“Don’t do that,” I said. “I’ll buy the raft from you.”

“Shake on it,” he said.

We shook hands to seal the bargain.

“And now, J. D.,” Tom said, “it is always best to settle a business deal as quickly as possible. Let’s go up to our room so you can get the dollar from your bank.”

We went up to the room. I shook a dollar’s worth of change out of my piggy bank and handed it to Tom.

“You are a nickel short,” he said.

I stared at the money in his hand. “How do you figure that?” I asked. “Two quarters, four dimes, and two nickels make one dollar.”

“You are forgetting the five cents commission I paid you today,” Tom said. “Our deal was for a dollar plus all of your ten percent commission until I leave for the academy.”

The Great Brain was right. I handed him another five cents.

PIGGY BANKS IN ADENVILLE sure took a beating during the next several days. The Explorer did a land-office business. Tom collected fares in advance every morning from the eighteen kids who would make the trip down the river, six at a time. He made more than thirty cents on some of these trips. Parley Benson, Seth Smith, Danny Forester, and other older boys wanted to be captain and pilot the raft down the river. Tom let them be captain and handle the oar and oarlock for an extra five cents. Some of the kids were making one trip almost every day. The Great Brain was making a fortune.

Every kid in town who had read Treasure Island by

Robert Louis Stevenson was now trying to talk like a sailor. They called each other “Matey” and the most popular song for kids was “Fifteen Men on the Dead Man’s Chest, Yo-Ho-Ho, and a Bottle of Rum.”

Then came that unforgettable Monday. I could see that it was raining in the mountains when I got up. But not one drop of rain fell in Adenville all that day. The Explorer made a trip down the river in the morning and another trip during the early afternoon. I was riding Bess, pulling the raft back upstream for the second trip of the afternoon. It was still raining in the mountains and it looked as it there was a real cloudburst up there. By the time I reached the swimming hole, the water in the river was getting muddy.

All the kids knew’that when it rained in the mountains and the river water started turning muddy, there might be a flood. We always stopped-swimming then. I was surprised when Tom had the raft carried back into the shallow water-1 jumped off Bess.

“You can’t make another trip,” I told him. “The wa-ter is turning muddy and there might be a flood.”

“Keep your mouth shut,” Tom said. “I’m not about to pass up thirty cents because the water is turning a little muddy. The river has turned muddy before and there hasn’t been any flood.”

Jimmie Peterson and Howard Kay were passengers on the trip.

“To heck with you,” I said to Tom. I walked over to Jimmie and Howard. “Don’t go,” I said. “There might be a flood.”

Tom gave me a nasty look. Then he spoke to the passengers. “Anybody who is afraid of a little muddy water

doesn’t have to make the trip,” he said. “But the Explorer sails on schedule. And no passage money will be refunded. All passengers who aren’t fraidy-cats get on board.”

After that speech all the passengers had to get on board or admit they were cowards. I got on Bess with Frankie and started downstream. Tom and his six passengers began the trip down the river. They were about a hundred yards past the swimming hole when I heard a roaring sound. I could see up the river for about a quarter of a mile, but I saw no sign of a flood and assumed what I’d heard was thunder in the mountains.

The raft reached that part of the river near the rapids where the current became swifter. I knew that the roaring sound wasn’t thunder as it became much louder. I turned and looked up the river. A wall of angry, muddy \ water a couple of feet high was roaring toward me, carrying logs, uprooted trees, and debris. All the kids on the riverbank screamed for Tom and the passengers to get off the raft. Larry Hanson, Frank Jensen, Hal Evans, and Pete Kyle dove off and began swimming toward shore. They all reached it in time.

Tom was trying to get Jimmie and Howard to dive into the river before the flood reached the raft. But my two friends were too paralyzed with fright to move. I watched Tom wrap his legs around Jimmie with a scissor hold. Then he put his arms around Howard and grabbed hold of the rope on the raft. He was just in time. The wall of floodwater hit the raft and all three of them went out of sight for a moment before the raft bobbed back up to the surface.

I jumped off Bess and unhitched the stone sled. I

mounted her with Frankie behind me and made her gal-lop downstream-The raft hit the rapids and was tossed about as if it were a matchstick. Uprooted trees and logs smashed into it. A second wall of floodwater, almost three feet high, came roaring down the river and hit the raft right in the middle of the rapids. I couldn’t see Tom, Jimmie, Howard, or the raft for what seemed like an eternity. Then the Explorer shot up to the surface as if tossed by a giant hand. The three boys were still on it. The raft spun crazily around, under water one moment and above water the next. The flood was carrying it downstream so fast that I couldn’t keep up with it on Bess. The raft, Tom, and my two best friends disappeared in the raging water.

Frankie tightened his arms around my stomach. “They are all deaded,” he cried.

I didn’t think they were dead the last time I saw them because they were still on the raft. But I also knew it was impossible for Tom to hold Jimmie, Howard, and the rope much longer. And when he finally had to let go from exhaustion, they would all be washed overboard and drowned. Even an excellent swimmer like Tom wouldn’t have a chance in the flood. He would be knocked unconscious by an uprooted tree or log. I was sure all three would be drowned as I rode Bess at a gallop into town. I lifted Frankie down from the mare in front of the marshal’s office.

“Run and tell Papa what happened,” I said.

Then I ran into the marshal’s office. Uncle Mark was sitting at his desk.

“•Flood on the river!” I shouted. “Tom, Jimmie, and Howard were on the raft!”

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Uncle Mark jumped to his feet. “Where?” he asked.

“The last I saw of them was in the rapids!” I cried.

Uncle Mark ran out of the office. His big white stallion, Lightning, was tied to the hitching post. Uncle Mark leaped into the saddle, grabbed my wrist, and lifted me up behind him. We rode at a gallop to the bank of the river just below the rapids. Then Uncle Mark slowed the stallion down as we followed the river downstream.

“They must be drowned!” I cried.

“Stop that bawling and keep your eyes open,” Uncle Mark ordered.

About two miles below the rapids there was a sharp curve in the river where it practically reversed the direc-tion in which it was flowing. Uncle Mark pointed.

“There they are!” he said.

The raft had been tossed by the crest of the flood up on the bank of the river. I could see Tom, Jimmie, and Howard lying on the raft, but they weren’t moving.

“They’re all dead,” I cried.

“If they were dead,” Uncle Mark said, “they probably wouldn’t still be on the raft. But I’ve got to get them away from that riverbank.”

I saw what he meant as I got off Lightning. The force of the floodwater was chewing big chunks, out of the riverbank where the raft was. If Uncle Mark didn’t reach the raft in time to pull it away from the river, it would fall into the floodwaters. And if that happened, Tom Jimmie, and Howard would be drowned for sure.

I watched Uncle Mark ride Lightning into the floodwaters. I began to pray. Uprooted trees and logs were be-ing hurled with enough force to stun a horse or even kill it. But no wonder Uncle Mark was proud of his stallion.

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Lightning swam steadily across the river without balking, although he was nearly hit several times by a log or uprooted tree before reaching the other side.

The floodwater had carried them about a quarter of a mile downstream. Uncle Mark rode back at a gallop toward the raft. Uncoiling his lariat, he tied one end of it to the pommel of his saddle. I bit my lip in ten-or as I saw the riverbank cave in under one corner of the raft. Uncle Mark whirled the noose of his lariat over his head and threw it. The loop fell around the oarlock. Uncle Mark slowed Lightning down until the lariat became taut. Then he pulled the raft about fifty feet away from the riverbank. Jumping off Lightning, he ran to the raft. I saw the undermined riverbank where the raft had been suddenly cave in. If Uncle Mark had missed that first throw of the lasso, Tom, Jimmie, and Howard would have dropped into the raging floodwater.

I watched Uncle Mark turn Jimmie over. He put his ear to Jimmie’s chest, then to Tom’s and Howard’s. Then he signaled me and I knew he meant that they were all unconscious but not dead. I watched him carry Jimmie to Lightning and lay him belly down across the saddle. Then he put Howard across Lightning’s neck and Tom across the horse’s rump. He began slapping all three of them on the back.