iro was with him. Besides himself, the
crew consisted of two men: Joao, the helmsman, or pilot, as he is
called in Brazil, and Simplicio, the bowsman. Both were negroes and
exceptionally good men in every way. Kermit halted his canoe on the
left bank, above the rapids, and waited for the colonel's canoe. Then
the colonel and Lyra walked down the bank to see what was ahead.
Kermit took his canoe across to the island to see whether the descent
could be better accomplished on the other side. Having made his
investigation, he ordered the men to return to the bank he had left,
and the dugout was headed up-stream accordingly. Before they had gone
a dozen yards, the paddlers digging their paddles with all their
strength into the swift current, one of the shifting whirlpools of
which I have spoken came down-stream, whirled them around, and swept
them so close to the rapids that no human power could avoid going over
them. As they were drifting into them broadside on, Kermit yelled to
the steersman to turn her head, so as to take them in the only way
that offered any chance whatever of safety. The water came aboard,
wave after wave, as they raced down. They reached the bottom with the
canoe upright, but so full as barely to float, and the paddlers urged
her toward the shore. They had nearly reached the bank when another
whirlpool or whirling eddy tore them away and hurried them back to
midstream, where the dugout filled and turned over. Joao, seizing the
rope, started to swim ashore; the rope was pulled from his hand, but
he reached the bank. Poor Simplicio must have been pulled under at
once and his life beaten out on the boulders beneath the racing
torrent. He never rose again, nor did we ever recover his body. Kermit
clutched his rifle, his favorite 405 Winchester with which he had done
most of his hunting both in Africa and America, and climbed on the
bottom of the upset boat. In a minute he was swept into the second
series of rapids, and whirled away from the rolling boat, losing his
rifle. The water beat his helmet down over his head and face and drove
him beneath the surface; and when he rose at last he was almost
drowned, his breath and strength almost spent. He was in swift but
quiet water, and swam toward an overhanging branch. His jacket
hindered him, but he knew he was too nearly gone to be able to get it
off, and, thinking with the curious calm one feels when death is but a
moment away, he realized that the utmost his