A PERILOUS ADVENTURE.
Under the guidance of the native spy, whose name was Sancho, we
left the rude cart-road we had been following, and bearing to the
left descended a gentle slope rather thickly studded with trees. In
two minutes we had lost sight of the main body, and felt that we
were entirely dependent upon our own resources, and about to embark
upon what might turn out to be a perilous adventure. I was in the
highest spirits, for I perfectly revelled in this sort of independent
enterprise. There was a mystery; a chance of discovering hidden
booty; a tangled skein to be unravelled. That was quite enough for an
adventurous boy of my age.
“We’re in luck,” said Mr. Triggs as we marched along; “don’t you think
so, Mr. Darcy?”
“Oh, it’s splendid fun!” I cried enthusiastically; “I’m simply dying
to come to close quarters with these freebooters and seize the loot
they’ve stowed away in the caves. Can’t we double, Mr. Triggs? We’d get
there so much sooner, and I’m sure the men are just as ready to run all
the way as I am!”
“If I wasn’t on the shady side of fifty, perhaps I should too,”
responded the gunner with a laugh.
“What nonsense, Mr. Triggs! Why, you’ve got the reputation of being one
of the strongest men on board the _Rattler_!”
“Oh, come, come; draw it mild!” exclaimed the gunner deprecatingly, but
nevertheless looking very pleased with the compliment. “And then you
mustn’t forget, Mr. Darcy, that our orders are to _reconnoitre_.”
“And _to attack if necessary_,” I added triumphantly. “Why, you can’t
suppose, Mr. Triggs, that these rascally fellows won’t get wind of
what we’re up to; that they won’t see us; that they won’t defend their
ill-gotten booty with desperate bravery; that they won’t——”
“Stop, stop, for heaven’s sake!” cried the gunner; “how you young
gentlemen let your imaginations run away with you! You remind me of
mill-wheels in a spate; they are kept spinning round at such a rate as
to risk putting the machinery out of gear.”
“Not a bad simile, Mr. Triggs. Bad luck to those who put a spoke in,
say I! They’re the fellows who put the machinery out of gear.”
The ground began to fall away more steeply, and rocks cropped up more
abundantly. The trees seemed more stunted, and as if huddled together
for shelter, and underwood began to make its appearance, growing
quite thickly in some places. We appeared to be approaching the side
of a steep valley, from the distant depths of which I seemed to hear
the subdued thunder of a cascade. A pair of eagles soared above our
heads; and far away, peering here and there from amid the clouds, the
purple-tinted mountains of the interior were discernible.
Our conversation had ceased, for our eyes and ears had to be on the
alert.
Every moment the scenery became more savage and more picturesque,
the rush of waters from the valley and its offshoots more distinctly
audible, and the slopes we were descending more steep, slippery, and
rock-encumbered.
The swarthy Sancho, however, glided on before us, and led the way
without a moment’s hesitation. He was a lithe, well-built fellow of
about forty, and looked wiry and active. He carried in his right hand a
sharp cutlass, with which he occasionally cut down a creeper or some
underwood that obstructed the way. There was no path. We followed him
blindly, putting entire trust in him for the time being.
“Well, this is a queer, wild sort of a place,” I heard Ned Burton say
to one of his mates; “just the sort of diggings one would expect to
come across bandits and buccaneers in, and them sort of gentry.”
“I hope we’ll find some good Havana tobacco amongst the spoils, that’s
all I’ve got to say,” answered his comrade. “I left my pouch behind
aboard the old hooker, worse luck, and don’t want to have to borrow
from my pals when perhaps they’re short themselves.”
“Shilling cigars will be your ticket, mate, I reckon,” said Ned with a
laugh. “You may depend the skipper of the _Flying-fish_ had some weeds
of that quality aboard, if only to sell again when he got back to the
old country.”
“Poor chap! he’s lost the number of his mess and no mistake. Hallo!
what in thunder is the matter with the guide?”
He might well ask. We were all horrified to hear Sancho give vent to a
loud cry of terror, and see him wildly slash at something on the ground
with his cutlass. Then he dropped his weapon upon the ground, and gave
a heartrending shriek of agony. In an instant we had sprung to his side.
The poor fellow’s face was convulsed with mingled pain and horror, and
he would have fallen to the ground had not Ned Burton supported him.
“He suffers from epilepsy, I’m afraid,” exclaimed the gunner as he ran
up. “I wish the surgeon was here.”
But Ned pointed to the ground with a horrified expression upon his face
which spoke volumes.
I followed his gesture with my eyes, and they immediately lit upon two
writhing portions of a very deadly-looking snake. The guide had cut
the venomous reptile in two, but not before the latter had buried its
poisonous fangs in the almost unprotected leg of its victim.
A shudder ran through every one’s frame, for sailors have a natural
horror of serpents, poisonous or otherwise. Nevertheless Ned Burton
offered to suck the wound, and endeavour to save the poor victim’s
life. This, however, Mr. Triggs would not permit.
We laid the unfortunate man carefully upon the ground; but he was
already almost in a state of coma, so virulent was the poison and so
rapid in its effects. Ned gently rolled up the leg of the thin white
linen trousers the victim was wearing; and on the right leg, a little
way above the ankle, a small puncture revealed itself, which was
evidently the mark of the snake’s fang. The whole limb was terribly
swollen as high as the knee, and the foot was in the same state.
I cannot dwell upon this episode; even now it makes me shudder to think
of it. Suffice it to say that in five minutes the man was stone dead.
This unfortunate occurrence threw a gloom over our party. Every one
spoke in hushed whispers, and it was in a very depressed mood that we
set about digging a rough shallow grave for the poor fellow’s remains,
under the shade of a spreading wild cotton-tree.
“And now,” said Mr. Triggs, when the last sad offices were over, “we’re
in a pretty good fix, for we’ve lost our guide, and don’t know which
way to steer our course.”
“Let’s keep straight on in the direction we were going when the
accident happened,” I suggested; “we can’t go far wrong.”
“We must either do that or make tracks for the main body of our
shipmates,” observed Ned Burton. “It seems to me there ain’t no middle
course, so to speak.”
The gunner mused for some time with his eyes fixed upon the ground. He
appeared to be in a brown study, and oblivious of what was going on
around him. Most of the men had lit their pipes and were conversing in
low tones. Ned and I discussed the situation earnestly and in all its
bearings, and came to the conclusion that it would be a thousand pities
to abandon the expedition. All our adventurous instincts scouted such a
proposition.
I went up to the gunner and laid my hand upon his arm.
“Ned and I both think we ought to push on at all hazards,” I said. “I
hope you agree with us, Mr. Triggs.”
“Yes, yes, I do, my boy. I’ve weighed the _pros_ and _cons_ as clearly
as I can in my own mind, and you bet your life Tim Triggs isn’t the man
to turn back and give the enemy a wide berth so long as he can steer a
true course without a pilot. We’ve no chart, and are pretty well adrift
about our bearings; but let’s forge ahead, and see if we can’t spot a
landmark of some kind.”
“That’s the sort, sir,” said Ned approvingly, “if you’ll excuse the
liberty I take in giving my opinion. Let’s push on and follow our
noses. I wouldn’t mind betting a month’s pay we smell the rascals out,
and give ’em a thundering good hammering too.”
The other men murmured approval of their shipmate’s sentiments.
“You’re the right sort of fellows to have at one’s back,” said the
gunner heartily. “Let’s get under way at once, and I’ll do my best to
be your pilot.”
And so saying he put himself at the head of the little detachment and
led the way onwards in the direction we had been following when the
guide was with us. As there was no path, however, and we had not the
remotest idea how long the native had intended to keep on in the same
line of march, the reader will perceive that we had a very good chance
of missing the object of our search altogether.
Our progress was slow, owing to the underwood, which grew denser every
moment, and also to the obstructive rocks which seemed “confusedly
hurled” about in all directions. Here and there, too, we encountered
the vast trunk and branches of some giant of the forest laid low by the
last hurricane that had swept howling over the mountain tops.
“One thing is certain enough,” observed Ned to me, “the mutineers and
their pals didn’t bring the cargo along this route. ’Twould have been
quite impossible.”
I pointed down into the deep, well-wooded valley beneath.
“We shall discover their path by-and-by,” I said. “I’ve no doubt it
follows the mountain stream on its way to the sea.”
“Maybe,” answered my coxswain; “and the best thing we can do is to make
the thieving swabs carry back to the _Flying-fish_ all the loot they
laid their hands upon.”
The word was now passed round by the gunner that strict silence was to
be kept, and that we were to make the least possible noise in marching.
The latter order was extremely difficult to carry out, especially
as in one or two places the men had to use their cutlasses to hew a
way for themselves through a tangle of pendulous creepers and forest
sub-growth. It was impossible to keep any sort of formation, and we had
to straggle on as best we could. Had a watchful and cunning enemy been
lying in ambush anywhere upon our line of march, he would undoubtedly
have stood a very good chance of wiping us off the face of the earth.
The atmosphere grew close and oppressive as we descended into the
valley, and the tree-tops were scarcely stirred by the almost stagnant
air. Even the birds and insects seemed affected by the sultriness,
and their varied cries and droning hums were hushed into quietude.
Ominous-looking purple clouds were gathering over the summits of some
of the distant mountains and seemed to presage a thunderstorm.
Suddenly I caught sight of a thin spiral column of blue smoke ascending
from the valley beneath and dissipating itself in the blue ether
overhead. I silently pointed it out to the gunner.
As we were on a fairly open piece of ground at the time, the latter
halted us by a warning gesture with his hand.
“That looks as if it came from an encampment, Mr. Darcy,” he whispered;
“or do you think it might be caused by charcoal-burners?”
“I’m inclined to think it comes from a camp of the mutineers,” I
answered in the same low tone; “for it does not look more than half a
mile distant, and I should say we have already come a mile and a half.”
“But why should they be so anxious to betray their whereabouts? that’s
what bothers me,” remarked the gunner.
“You must bear one thing in mind,” I said, “and that is, that this
particular body of mutineers or insurgents probably deem themselves
quite safe from pursuit, hidden away in this valley. They’re keeping
watch over the booty, whilst the main body is engaged in drawing our
brigade off as far as possible into the mountainous interior. It’s a
clever plan, I must say, but it’s fallen to our lot to foil it.”
The gunner did not answer for some minutes, but seemed buried in
thought. He was a very cautious man, and though brave as a lion in
fight, he was anything but headstrong in conceiving plans of action.
He was aroused from his reverie by the sound of voices ascending from
the valley. They appeared to come from the site of the fire as nearly
as we could tell.
We all exchanged expressive glances, and Mr. Triggs examined his
revolver to see if it was properly loaded.
“I don’t want to do anything rash,” said the gunner to me, “because
that may only lead us into trouble. I think I’ll creep forward and
reconnoitre, taking Ned Burton with me. If we discover a camp of the
mutineers, why, of course, our duty will be clear; and if they turn
out to be only charcoal-burners, no doubt we shall get some valuable
information out of them.”
I laid my hand impetuously on Mr. Triggs’s arm.
“Let me go with you and reconnoitre!” I begged in imploring tones.
“I’ll be as quiet as a mouse, and do everything you tell me—indeed I
will.”
The gunner smiled grimly.
“I don’t like to refuse you, Mr. Darcy, but who will take command of
the men left behind?”
“Jim Beddoes, of course, the captain of the fore-top,” I answered.
“He’s a first-class petty-officer, and has got his headpiece screwed on
the right way.”
“Well, I’d trust Jim, of course,” said the gunner, glancing at the
individual in question, who grinned and touched his hat.
“Well, that’s settled then!” I cried in the highest delight, and I
beckoned to Ned Burton to fall out of the ranks and join us, which he
did with great alacrity.
“You’ll keep a bright look-out, Beddoes,” said the gunner. “We shan’t
be gone more than half an hour or so, I take it. The men mustn’t leave
this spot, but they may sit down and rest so long as you keep four
sentries posted.”
“Ay, ay, sir; I’ll keep my weather eye lifting, and see that nothing
goes wrong.”
Ned, in lieu of his rifle, took a small tomahawk with him wherewith to
mark the trees as we went along, and then we crept forward through the
forest in the direction of the pillar of blue smoke. We had discarded
our side-arms before starting, as we decided that they would only
encumber us. Our loaded revolvers we kept in our belts, more as a
matter of precaution than anything else, for we did not anticipate
exchanging shots with any one.
The undergrowth grew less dense as we advanced, and we were able to
proceed rapidly and silently, always keeping the pillar of smoke
directly ahead. The side of the valley we were descending was
steep, and in places almost precipitous; but we kept our footing in
a marvellous manner notwithstanding. We could hear the rushing of
the stream very distinctly as it swirled around the boulders that
obstructed the way, or leaped over some cliff-like rock into a deep
abyss below. It was now evidently not far distant. Now and again we
heard a subdued shout from some one beneath us, but ordinary voices
could not now be distinguished above the roar of the torrent.
Ned assiduously marked our path by chipping at the trees; but presently
all need for this precaution vanished, for we found ourselves upon a
regular beaten path leading down into the depths of the valley.
The gunner halted for a moment, and lifted a warning finger to
enjoin silence and secrecy upon us. Then he resumed the route with
stealthy but rapid footsteps. My heart was beating so with suppressed
excitement that I could not help fancying that my companions must hear
its prodigious thumps. I glanced at Ned. As was natural in a man who
had passed through numberless perils, he looked quite unconcerned, but
his bronzed face wore its usual determined expression.
The path, at first stony and precipitous, at length wound its way
onward at a gentler gradient, and seemed to be nearing the base of
the hilly slopes which flanked the savage ravine. The timber here was
magnificent, some of the stately trees towering up with their spreading
branches to an altitude of a hundred and fifty feet. Lizards ran about
in all directions; dragon-flies darted hither and thither; and far
above our heads birds of gaudy plumage flitted from tree to tree.
We came at length to a place where four narrow beaten tracks met, and
the gunner halted for a moment and peered about him.
“I vote for keeping straight on,” I whispered hurriedly.
Mr. Triggs nodded, and glided on as before.
I ought to have mentioned that we had for some time lost sight of the
pillar of smoke which had been a beacon to us for so long. This was
owing to the enormous size of the trees in this part of the valley.
Suddenly, as we were passing close to a collection of cliff-like
boulders which frowned down upon the narrow pathway on our right hand,
about a dozen men sprang out upon us with such extraordinary activity
and determination that we were taken completely by surprise, for, as
the reader may suppose, we had not the faintest notion that any one was
lurking in the vicinity of the path.
At the first alarm I need not say that our hands flew instinctively to
our revolvers; but in much less time than it takes me to write it our
assailants had flung themselves on us, secured our arms, and borne us
to the ground, especial care being taken to keep an iron grip on our
throats, to prevent our calling for assistance. I struggled vehemently
to free myself; but the more I struggled the tighter grew the grip
on my throat, and at last I was obliged to desist for fear of being
strangled. I heard the gunner and Ned Burton struggling desperately
also, although they had not been able to use their revolvers; but both
being men of unusual strength, it was some little time before they were
eventually secured.
With great dexterity our captors blindfolded and gagged us, passed
lashings around our arms, and dragged us away with them—_whither_, we
had no means of ascertaining.