For an hour I had sailed over the fleet, smooth glimmering water, free
and careless as a sea-gull. Now I must 'bout ship and tussle with the
whole force of the tide at the jaws of Hellgate. I did not know that
not for that day only, but for life, my floating gayly with the stream
was done.

I pulled in under the eastern shore, and began to give way with all my
boyish force.

I was a little fellow, only ten years old, but my pretty white skiff
was little, in proportion, and so were my sculls, and we were all used
to work together.

As I faced about, a carriage came driving furiously along the turn of
the shore. The road followed the water's edge. I was pulling close to
the rocks to profit by every eddy. The carriage whirled by so near me
that I could recognize one of the two persons within. No mistaking that
pale, keen face. He evidently saw and recognized me also. He looked out
at the window and signaled the coachman to stop. But before the horses
could be pulled into a trot he gave a sign to go on again. The carriage
disappeared at a turn of the shore.

This encounter strangely dispirited me. My joy in battling with the
tide, in winning upward, foot by foot, boat's length after boat's
length, gave place to a forlorn doubt whether I could hold my
own--whether I should not presently be swept away.

The tide seemed to run more sternly than I had ever known it. It made a
plaything of my little vessel, slapping it about most uncivilly. The
black rocks, covered with clammy, unwholesome-looking sea-weed, seemed