DRIFTING WITH THE CURRENT.
The craft that carried the ex-miner, his family and following, once more
floated on the broad bosom of the Solimoes. Not so swift as before,
since, instead of eight paddlers, it was now impelled by only half the
number,--these, too, with less than half the experience of the crew who
had preceded them.
The owner himself acted as steersman, while the paddles were plied by
"Tipperary Tom," Mozey, the old Indian,--who, being of the Mundurucu
tribe, passed by the name of "Monday,"--and Richard Trevannion.
The last, though by far the youngest, was perhaps the best paddler in
the party. Brought up in his native place of Gran Para, he had been
accustomed to spend half his time either in or upon the water; and an
oar or paddle was to him no novelty.
Young Ralph, on the contrary, a true mountaineer, knew nothing of
either, and therefore counted for nothing among the crew of the galatea.
To him and the little Rosa was assigned the keeping of the pets, with
such other light duties as they were capable of performing.
For the first day the voyage was uninterrupted by any incident,--at
least any that might be called unpleasant. Their slow progress, it is
true, was a cause of dissatisfaction; but so long as they were going at
all, and going in the right direction, this might be borne with
equanimity. Three miles an hour was about their average rate of speed;
for half of which they were indebted to the current of the river, and
for the other half to the impulsion of their paddles.
Considering that they had still a thousand miles to go before reaching
Gran Para, the prospect of a protracted voyage was very plainly outlined
before them.
Could they have calculated on making three miles an hour for every hour
of the twenty-four, things would not have been bad. This rate of speed
would have carried them to their destination in a dozen days,--a mere
bagatelle. But they knew enough of river-navigation to disregard such
data. They knew the current of the Solimoes to be extremely slow; they
had heard of the strange phenomenon, that, run which way the river
might, north, south, east, or west,--and it _does_ keep bending and
curving in all these directions,--the wind is almost always met with
blowing _up stream_!
For this reason they could put no dependence in their sail, and would
have to trust altogether to the paddles. These could not be always in
the water. Human strength could not stand a perpetual spell, even at
paddles; and less so in the hands of a crew of men so little used to
them.
Nor could they continue the voyage at night. By doing so, they would be
in danger of losing their course, their craft, and themselves!
You may smile at the idea. You will ask--a little scornfully,
perhaps--how a canoe, or any other craft, drifting down a deep river to
its destination, could possibly go astray. Does not the current point
out the path,--the broad water-way not to be mistaken?
So it might appear to one seated in a skiff, and floating down the
tranquil Thames, with its well-defined banks. But far different is the
aspect of the stupendous Solimoes to the voyager gliding through its
_gapo_.
I have made use of a word of strange sound, and still stranger
signification. Perhaps it is new to your eye, as your ear. You will
become better acquainted with it before the end of our voyage; for into
the "Gapo" it is my intention to take you, where ill-luck carried the
galatea and her crew.
On leaving Coary, it was not the design of her owner to attempt taking
his craft, so indifferently manned, all the way to Para. He knew there
were several civilized settlements between,--as Barra at the mouth of
the Rio Negro, Obidos below it, Santarem, and others. At one or other of
these places he expected to obtain a supply of _tapuyos_, to replace the
crew who had so provokingly forsaken him.
The voyage to the nearest of them, however, would take several days, at
the rate of speed the galatea was now making; and the thought of being
delayed on their route became each hour more irksome. The ex-miner, who
had not seen his beloved brother during half a score of years, was
impatient once more to embrace him. He had been, already, several months
travelling towards him by land and water; and just as he was beginning
to believe that the most difficult half of the journey had been
accomplished, he found himself delayed by an obstruction vexatious as
unexpected.
The first night after his departure from Coary, he consented that the
galatea should lie to,--moored to some bushes that grew upon the banks
of the river.
On the second night, however, he acted with less prudence. His
impatience to make way prompted him to the resolution to keep on. The
night was clear,--a full moon shining conspicuously above, which is not
always the case in the skies of the Solimoes.
There was to be no sail set, no use made of the paddles. The crew were
fatigued, and wanted rest and repose. The current alone was to favor
their progress; and as it appeared to be running nearly two miles an
hour, it should advance them between twenty and thirty miles before the
morning.
The Mundurucu made an attempt to dissuade his "patron" from the course
he designed pursuing; but his advice was disregarded,--perhaps because
ill-understood,--and the galatea glided on.
Who could mistake that broad expanse of water--upon which the moon shone
so clearly--for aught else than the true channel of the Solimoes? Not
Tipperary Tom, who, in the second watch of the night,--the owner himself
having kept the first,--acted as steersman of the galatea.
The others had gone to sleep. Trevannion and the three young people
under the tolda; Mozey and the Mundurucu along the staging known as the
"hold." The birds and monkeys were at rest on their respective perches,
and in their respective cages,--all was silent in the galatea, and
around,--all save the rippling of the water, as it parted to the
cleaving of her keel.