The Raft

There was a light breeze blowing from the west, just enough to keep the boys cool in the warm sunshine when they set out on the water. Even the birds seemed to be exalting the day in their cheerful cries. The raft floated merrily along in the mellow current, heedless of where it headed. The craft was a conglomeration of three short logs tied together with the remnants of an old bedsheet, stolen from Mrs. Parson’s clothesline. A rigged up mast and sail were ingeniously devised from a piece of a broken flagpole and an old tarp found in the alley that morning.

Terry was the ringleader of sorts. He was the one who always came up with the really thrilling ideas and dared the others to follow him on his adventures. Sam was the jokester; he could keep the others in stitches with his wild antics and theatrics of all sorts. Because he was the smallest, quick and agile, Sam often performed the most dangerous feats required of the group. Adam, who for some unknown reason was called “Red”, (his hair was neither red nor any shade near) was the quiet one of the group. He could be counted on to remember all of the details and necessities for the escapades of the small company of men. For this particular excursion, he had commandeered an old broken penknife, three matches, a hunk of stale bread, a short length of twine, a rusty frying pan, and several pieces of old board, which were currently in use as paddles.

Sam and Red were manning the paddles with more vigor than skill. Terry lounged on the makeshift bow when the side of the boat hit a hard object submerged in the water. After nearly falling off the side of the raft as it lurched wildly and spun around, Terry exclaimed, “What was that?”

Sam, who was eagerly peering over the side, answered, “I think it was just a log. Made things pretty excitin’ though, didn’t it?”

“Well, watch out next time. I don’t want to have to rescue you two off of a rock in the middle of the river.”

Sam and Red resumed their vigorous paddling as the current swept them slowly downstream. Terry resumed his indolent pose at the bow, although less relaxed than he had been earlier. The next hour brought heated discussions of baseball and idle curiosity about where the river was headed. As they rounded another corner, the current slowly began to increase. The boys were forced to navigate around several rocks or risk being swamped by the swift current. Terry shouted orders from the bow and Sam and Red struggled manfully to maneuver the bulky boat.

“More on your side, Red!,” Terry shouted. ‘The rocks are gonna swamp us! More!!”

Panting heavily, Red struggled with the paddle. The rock loomed closer. “Faster, faster!” Sam cried.

At that instant, the paddle flew out of Red’s hands and into the water. A moment later the raft pounded into the rock with a lurch and a thud, throwing all the boys into the churning water. Sam’s head bobbed above the water momentarily before being pulled under by the current. A few feet away, Terry struggled to stay afloat. Pushed the opposite direction by the water, Red fought the waves and swam toward the bank.

When Red pulled himself out of the water and turned to look for his friends, he at first didn’t spot them. He was seized with panic. He began to run down the bank, shouting, “Terry!! Sam!!” A flash of blue caught his eye a few yards downstream. As he approached, he could see Sam struggling to sit up. “Are you okay? Where is Terry?” Red asked.

“I’m okay, I think. He’s not with you?”

Dully, the faint roar of the rapids upstream pounded their ears. They could smell the freshly stirred up sediments from the river bottom. Hundreds of small bubbles rose to the surface of the once turbulent water. Simultaneously, both sets of eyes turned to search the now slower paced river. The boys began to carefully make their way through the brush and trees, eyes anxiously scanning. Driftwood bobbed gently in eddies along the shore. Bits of the raft were still hung up on rocks midstream.

Minutes inched past as the boys made their way gingerly over rocks and logs on the bank. After what seemed like an eternity, Sam grabbed Red’s arm excitedly, He pointed toward the far shore. A brutal fist of dread punched in his gut and his arm slowly fell to his side.

As the river rushed past, the boys fell silent, their eyes riveted on the figure floating face down in the eddy across the way.