The rocks were too many for
evasion, and the swift current caught our keels upon their half-sunken
heads, which held us fast in imminent peril of a swamp or a capsize,
our only safety lying in open eyes, quick and skilful use of the paddle
or a sudden leap overboard at a critical instant. Added to these
difficulties, a gusty head wind and lively showers obscured the
boulders and the few open channels. So we went on all the forenoon,
hampered by our ponchos, poling, drifting, paddling and peering our
way, blinded by wind and rain, till we came to the last of these
labyrinths, liveliest and most treacherous of all. We were soaked, and
only dreaded an upset for our provisions and equipments. The rapid was
long, rough, swift, crooked. The Kleiner Fritz led the way into the
swirl, and was caught, a hundred feet down, hard and fast by her
bow-keel, swung around against another boulder at her stern, and was
pinned fast in no sort of danger, the water boiling under and around
her, while her captain sat at his leisure as under the inevitable, with
a don't-care-a-dash-ative procrastination of the not-to-be-avoided jump
overboard and wade for deeper water. The Betsy D.
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