And, most fearful
to look upon, the ocean, in three huge breakers, had come quite in,
and its mountains of white surge looked fearfully near the only
possible crossing. I entreated D. not to go on. She said we could
not go back, that the last gulch was already impassable, that
between the two there was no house in which we could sleep, that the
river had a good bottom, that the man thought if our horses were
strong we could cross now, but not later, etc. In short, she
overbore all opposition, and plunged in, calling to me, "spur, spur,
all the time."
Just as I went in, I took my knife and cut open the cloak which
contained the cocoanuts, one only remaining. Deborah's horse I knew
was strong, and shod, but my unshod and untried mare, what of her?
My soul and senses literally reeled among the dizzy horrors of the
wide, wild tide, but with an effort I regained sense and self-
possession, for we were in, and there was no turning. D., ahead,
screeched to me what I could not hear; she said afterwards it was
"spur, spur, and keep up the river;" the native was shrieking in
Hawaiian from the hinder shore, and waving to the right, but the
torrents of rain, the crash of the breakers, and the rush and hurry
of the river confused both sight and hearing.
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