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<h3>Chapter Thirty.</h3> <h4>In the Lock.</h4> The tea-making was attended with the usual excitements, and the kettle-boiling with the inevitable misadventures. A scouting party was organised to discover a sheltered spot in which to lay the fire, but although until this minute the day had appeared absolutely calm and tranquil, all the winds of heaven seemed to unite in blowing upon that unfortunate fire from the moment that the match was applied! When at long last a feeble flame was established, the sticks promptly collapsed and precipitated the kettle to the ground; when rebuilt more solidly, it died out for want of a draught; and when at last, and at last, and at very long last, the smoke was seen issuing from the kettle-spout, lo, the water was smoked, and unfit to drink! So decided the Captain, at least, but while he drank milk with the little girls, Pixie emptied the tea-pot with undiminished enjoyment. “It gives it a flavour,” she said. “I like to taste what I’m drinking.” It was not a trifle like smoked tea which would mar Mamzelle Paddy’s enjoyment when on pleasure bent! The Captain’s preparations had been on so lavish a scale that there was quite a supply of good things left when the meal was finished, and by a kindly thought these were packed together to give to the children of the lock-keeper on the way up stream. When every odd piece of paper had been religiously collected and packed in the hamper with the cups and saucers, the little girls were lifted into the boat, Pixie pulled the rudder-ropes over her shoulders, and the Captain pushed the boat from the shore and jumped lightly into his seat. They were off again, rowing homewards and passing once more all the fascinating landmarks which they had noticed on the way down. The picnickers on the banks were fastening hampers and preparing to depart; on the green lawns by the waterside servants were flitting to and fro carrying trays into the house. Inda was beginning to yawn and long for bed. She leant against Pixie, the weight of the small head becoming ever heavier and heavier, but roused up again as the boat entered the “box,” as she persisted in calling a lock. She wanted to hand out the parcel of good things without a moment’s delay, but the Captain told her to wait until the water had lifted the boat nearer to the bank. It seemed an extraordinary thing that, whereas, in passing through the lock before they had gone down, down, down, they should now rise higher with every moment that passed. The children had a hundred questions to ask, while the Captain stood up and kept the boat in position with a boat-hook. He explained the mystery as simply as possible, and also why he was at such pains to keep at a safe distance from the walls. “You see those things sticking out from the side of the boat into which I put my oars? They are called ‘rollocks,’ and when you are coming up stream through a lock you have to be careful indeed not to let them catch under any of the beams. It would be almost impossible to get them loose again, you see, because every moment more water would pour in, and press them tighter and tighter!” “And what would it do to us if it did press them?” Viva inquired curiously, whereat the Captain smiled and shook his head. “Something very disagreeable, I’m afraid—give us all a good wetting in the water! You needn’t be afraid of that, though, when you are with me, for I shall take good care of my little crew. You see how far I keep away with this oar.” “Yes, I see. But why does one end of the boat stick out into the middle, and the other into the side?” “It’s the current that sweeps it round, the force of the water that is coming in under the gates. That doesn’t matter so long as we are not caught.” “But the end is caught, isn’t it? That little bit of iron that sticks up at the pointed end!” cried Pixie suddenly. She was densely ignorant of all that concerns boats, and invariably alluded to the bow and the stern as the “blunt” and “pointed” ends, to the Captain’s intense amusement. This time, however, he did not smile. Pixie saw his face set suddenly as he turned his head to look in the direction of her outstretched finger, but his voice sounded reassuringly confident. “Oh, I see! Yes. Let me pass you, dear, for a moment. Sit quite still!” He stepped past her into the space occupied by the hampers, and stamped vigorously first with one foot, then with two, jumped with all his weight, then stepped quickly back to the centre of the boat and called to the man at the sluices— “Hi, there! Stop! My boat is caught! Turn off that water! Quick, man, do you hear me!” But the man’s head was turned in the opposite direction, and he was so much engrossed with his work that it was some moments before he heard, and meantime it was terrifying to see how swiftly the water arose, how dangerously near to its edge grew the side of the boat! The children began to shriek and stand on their seats, and the Captain seized Inda in his arms and held her up, calling loudly for help. The lock-keeper was hurriedly dropping the sluices, but at the sound of the continued cries his wife ran out of the house and across the bridgeway. In another moment she would be able to lift Inda ashore; but Viva, frantic with terror, was clamouring to be taken too, and Pixie impetuously lifted her towards the bank. What happened next it is difficult to describe, so swiftly did it happen, so like a nightmare did it appear for ever after in the memories of those concerned. The woman came rushing forward, followed by her husband; they seized the children and dragged them on the bank. The boat, relieved suddenly of a weight, gave an unexpected lurch, and the next moment Pixie and the Captain were in the water. The children screamed aloud in terror, but the Captain had hardly disappeared before he was up again, capless, and shaking the water from his head, but looking none the worse for his ducking. But it was a long, agonising minute before there came a swirling and bubbling at the end of the lock, and Pixie’s white, unconscious little face floated on the surface. The Captain’s arm was round her in an instant, the lock-keeper threw a rope to help him to the iron ladder fixed in the walls of the lock, and between them the two men carried the dripping figure along the bank and into the house. There was a sofa in an inner room, and there they laid her, while the woman, assisted by her eldest daughter, took off the wringing garments and wrapped her round with warm blankets and coverings. The Captain ran out into the village, sent a messenger flying for a doctor, and rushed back again in terror lest the two little girls should have taken advantage of his absence to get into fresh mischief. This was a pretty ending to their expedition! What would Mrs Wallace say to him when he got home, and what should he say to himself if through any fault or carelessness a serious injury had happened to sweet little Mamzelle! “Why on earth do they want to put these irons at the end of a boat? Wretched, dangerous things!” cried the distracted man to himself. “To think that I have been through a thousand locks in safety, and that this should have happened just when I had made myself responsible for a party of children! Never again! Never again, if I get safely out of this! I wonder how long that doctor fellow will take to come along?” Viva and Inda were sitting in the front kitchen, glancing askance at several rosy, curly-headed children who were shyly huddled together by the door. The fascination of new surroundings and possible new playmates had diverted their minds from their misfortunes, and the Captain heaved a sigh of relief as he passed into the inner room. The lock-keeper’s wife had filled two bottles with hot water, and put one to Pixie’s feet, and another between her cold hands; a towel was wrapped round the wet locks with somewhat ghastly effect, and the young man shivered as he looked down at the still, white face. “She is not—she can’t be—” he faltered, not having the courage to pronounce the dread word; and to his inexpressible relief the woman smiled at the thought. “Not she! Stunned a bit, that’s all. Perhaps hit her head in falling. I’ve often had them like this before, and they are pretty well all right in a few hours. We have a lot of people up here in summertime who know nothing about managing a boat—no offence to you, sir—I daresay you are well accustomed to them, but accidents will happen!” “I thought I was!” sighed the Captain dismally. He knelt down by the couch, and touched the cold cheek with his fingers. “Feels a little warmer, doesn’t she? For goodness’ sake, take that thing off her head, I can’t bear to see it.” The woman lifted the head from the pillow to unloosen the tight folds, and at the movement Pixie sighed, and opened wide, bewildered eyes. For the first moment they held nothing but blankest surprise at finding herself in so extraordinary a position, but, even as the Captain held his breath in suspense, a spark of remembrance came into the clear depths, and the face lit up with a flickering merriment. “Were we drowned?” she whispered hoarsely. “The two of us?—Viva jumped, and the boat slipped, and my feet went down. Who saved me? Was it you?” “I suppose it was, but it was not a very heroic rescue—only a few yards to the bank. You are sure you feel all right? Quite warm and comfortable? Your head doesn’t ache?” Pixie shook her dishevelled head from side to side, frowning the while in speculative fashion. “I think it does—a little bit, but I’m not quite sure. It feels muzzy!” she declared, with a gesture and accent which lent some enlightenment to the enigmatical expression. Then she stretched out a hand, and touched him anxiously on the shoulder. “You’re drenched! You’ll catch all sorts of diseases in those wet clothes. Can’t you have some blankets too? I’m so lovely and warm.” “My husband is putting out some clothes for you upstairs, sir. You had better go and change. The young lady is all right now, and I will tell you when the doctor comes.” “Doctor! Is a doctor coming? To see me?” Pixie asked, rapturously incredulous. To find herself the heroine of an adventure, a genuine thrilling adventure, to lie stretched upon a sofa, wrapped in blankets, with two attendants anxiously inquiring her symptoms; to know that a doctor was hurrying to her side—this was indeed a glorious ending to the day’s enjoyment! She lay back on the cushions wreathed in smiles, and the doctor, coming in hurriedly, was somewhat taken aback to behold so radiant a patient. “I fainted!” cried Pixie proudly. “I never fainted before in all my life. I don’t remember a single thing after I slipped, until I woke up on this sofa.” “Indeed!—and a very sensible arrangement. Just as well to know nothing about these disagreeable experiences.” The doctor smiled, and fingered her head with a careful touch. “Does that hurt you? No? Does that? Do you feel any tenderness there? A little bit, eh? You don’t like me to press it? You probably grazed yourself slightly as you fell, and that caused the ‘faint.’ Nothing serious, though. You need not be frightened.” “I like it!” said Pixie stoutly, and the burst of laughter with which the two hearers greeted this statement, sounded pleasantly in the Captain’s ears as he dressed himself in the lock-keeper’s Sunday garments in the room overhead. <hr></div> <div class="bodytext"> <ANTIMG src="images/mapix304.jpg" alt=""> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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