Brownsmith's Boy Part 7

"I say, don't you jump in: you'll get wet."

"I say, young 'un, don't. You learn to swim in the was.h.i.+ng-tub in warm water."

"Don't you take any notice of them," cried Day. "You jump in. Join your hands above your head and go in with a regular good leap. They can't."

I felt desperate. The water seemed to drive me back, but all the time the jeers of the boys p.r.i.c.ked and stirred me on, and at last, obeying Day to the letter, I placed my hands above my head, diver fas.h.i.+on, and took the plunge down into the darkness of the chilly water, which seemed to roar and thunder in my ears, and then, before I knew where I was, I found myself standing up, spitting, half blind, with a curious burning sensation in my nostrils, and a horrible catching of the breath.

"Hooray!" shouted Day. "You've beat them hollow. Now you're out of your misery and can show them. I bet a penny you learn to swim before they can."

This was encouraging, and I began to feel a warm glow of satisfaction in my veins.

"Catch hold of my hand," cried Day.

"No, no," I cried excitedly. "You'll take me where it's deep."

"Get out!" he said. "I shouldn't be such a fool. There, go on then by yourself. Don't go where it's more than up to your chin."

"Oh, no!" I said, stooping and rising, and letting the water, as it ran swiftly, send a curious cold thrill all over me. And then, as I began cautiously to wade about, panting, and with my breath coming in an irregular manner, there was a very pleasurable sensation in it all.

First I began to notice how firm and close and heavy the water felt, and how it pressed against me. Then I began to think of how hard it was to walk, the water keeping me back; and directly after, as I stepped suddenly in a soft place all mud, which seemed to ooze up between my toes, the water came to my shoulders, and I felt as if I were being lifted from my feet.

"I say how do you like it?" cried Day, who was swimming a few yards away.

"I don't know," I panted. "I think I like it."

"Oh, you'll soon think it glorious," he replied. "You'll love it as soon as you can swim."

The other two had waded on for some distance against the current, taking no further interest in me now I had made my plunge.

"I should like to swim," I said.

"Oh it's easy enough once you get used to it. That chap down below there swims twice as well as I can, but I don't know who he is."

"What shall I do first?" I asked.

"Oh, throw yourself flat on the water, and kick out your arms and legs like I do--like a frog. You'll soon learn. Now I'm going to swim up as far as they are, and then let myself float back. You'll see me come down. It's so easy. You watch."

"All right!" I said.

"You keep close in to the bank," he shouted; "the tide don't run there.

Keep on trying to throw yourself down and kick out like a frog. You'll soon swim."

I nodded, and stood holding on by a tuft of coa.r.s.e sedge, watching him as he threw himself on his side, and went off pretty close to the bank, where the water was eddying; and the next minute he was beyond a clump of sedge that projected into the river, and I was alone.

I felt no dread now, for the water seemed pleasantly cool, and I began to grow more confident. The buoyancy was delicious, and I found that by holding on with both hands to the long rushes I could float on the water, throwing myself down and keeping close to the surface, but with my legs gradually sinking, till I gave them a kick and rose again.

I amused myself this way for a minute or two, and then, leaving the tuft of rushes, I began to wade slowly along with the water up to my chest, and every now and then I stooped down, so that it came above my shoulders, and struck out with my hands; but I dare not throw myself flat with my legs off the bottom. That was too much to expect, and I had not recovered yet from the desperate plunge in, the recollection of which made me wonder at my temerity.

It was very nice, that first lesson in the water's buoyancy, and as I jumped up, or lowered myself down, or held on by the tufts by the brink, and let myself float, I could not help comparing myself to the soap in the bathtub at home, for that almost floated, but gradually settled down to the bottom, just as my body seemed to do.

"I shall soon swim," I thought to myself; but I felt no inclination to risk the first plunge and begin the struggle. It was far more pleasant to keep on wading there with the water up to my chest, and the delicious sensation of novelty, half fear, half pleasure, making me now venture out a few inches into deeper water, now shrink back towards the bank.

How beautiful it all seemed, with the mellow afternoon sunlight dancing on the water as a puff of warm wind came now and then along the river.

The trees were so green and the sky so blue, and the barges, and horses that drew them by the towing-path on the other side, all seemed to add to my pleasure, for the barges seemed to glide along so easily, and they floated, and that was what I wanted to do.

I forgot all about my companions, who must have been a couple of hundred yards higher up the river, while I was wading down.

By degrees I found the water a little deeper, and I shrank from it at first, but I was close to the bank and had only to stretch out my hand to catch hold of a tuft of gra.s.s or sedge, and, after the shrinking sensation, it seemed pleasant to have the water higher up about my shoulders. It was so much harder to walk, and I could feel myself almost panting. Beside this there was a nice soft muddy bottom, pleasanter to the feet than the gravel where I had plunged in.

Yes: I thought it a much nicer place there, and I was slowly and cautiously wading on, while all at once I found the water seeming to come in the opposite direction, curving round towards me in a place where the bank was scooped out.

It looked so smooth that I pressed on, taking one step forward, so that the water might rush up against me, and--then I was floating, for my feet found no bottom, and with an excited thrill of delight I felt that I could swim.

Yes; there was no doubt about it. I could swim as easily as George Day, only I was not moving my hands, while the water was bearing me up and carrying me round as in a whirlpool just once, and then I was swept into the tide-way with the water thundering in my ears, a horrible strangling sensation in my nostrils, and a dimness coming over my aching eyes.

I could never remember much about it, only that it was all a confusion of thundering in my ears and rus.h.i.+ng sounds. I kept on beating the water with my hands as I had seen a dog beat the surface when he could not swim, and I seemed to throw my head right back as I gasped for breath. But I do not remember that it was very horrible, or that I was drowning, as I surely was. Confusion is the best expression for explaining my sensations as I was swept rapidly down by the tide.

What do I remember next? I hardly know. Only a sensation of some one catching me by the wrist, from somewhere in the darkness that was closing me in. But the next thing after that is, I remember shutting my eyes, because the sun shone in them so fiercely as I lay on my back in the gra.s.s, with my head aching furiously, and a strange pain at the back of my neck, as if some one had been trying to break my head off, as a mischievous child would serve a doll.

Just then I heard some one sobbing and crying, and I felt as if I must be asleep and dreaming all this.

"Don't make that row. He's all right, I tell you. He isn't drowned.

What's the good of making a row like that!"

It was George Day's voice, and opening my eyes I said hoa.r.s.ely:

"What's the matter? Is he hurt?"

"No: it's only Harry Leggatt thought you were--you were hurt, you know.

Can you get up, and run? All our clothes are two fields off. Come on.

The sun will dry you."

I got up, feeling giddy and strange, and the aching at the back of my head was almost unbearable; but I began to walk with Day holding my hand, and after a time--he guiding me, for I felt very stupid--I began to trot; and at last, with my head throbbing and whirring, I found myself standing by my clothes, and my companions helped me to dress.

"You went out too far," Day said. "I told you not, you know."

I was s.h.i.+vering with cold and terribly uncomfortable with putting on my things over my wet chilled body. It had been a hard task too, especially with my socks, but I hardly spoke till we were walking home, and when I did it was during the time I was smoothing my wet hair with a pocket comb lent me by one of the boys.

"How was it I went too far?" I said at last, dolefully.

"I don't know," said Day. "I shouldn't have known anything if that chap Shock hadn't come shouting to us; and when we came, thinking he was going to steal our clothes, he brought us and showed us where he had dragged you out on to the bank. It was him we saw swimming when we first went in."

"Where is he now?" I said wearily. "Let's ask him all about it."

"I don't know," replied Day. "He ran off to dress himself, I suppose, and he didn't come back. But I say, you're better now."

"Oh yes!" I said, "I'm better now;" and by degrees the walk in the warm afternoon suns.h.i.+ne seemed to make me feel more myself; beside which I was dry when I got back home, but very low-spirited and dull.

I did not say anything, for my mother was lying down, and Mrs Beeton never invited my confidence; beside which I felt rather conscience-stricken, and after having my solitary tea I went to the window, feeling warmer, and less disposed to s.h.i.+ver.