A DREARY RETURN
Harry was correct: the boat was gliding steadily back with the stream,
and Sree was standing right forward in the prow, looking out and
uttering warnings from time to time of dangers ahead, in the shape of
fallen trees, while he kept on admonishing the men to be content with
keeping the boat straight while the darkness lasted, and deferring all
attempts at making speed till the day came.
It was still very dark, the stars being nearly blotted out by the thin
mist; but there were sundry significant hints that morning was
approaching, for the scintillation of the fire-flies had ceased, and
the chorus of reptile and wandering beast in the depths of the forest
was dying away.
Leaving Mr. Kenyon and the doctor talking, the boys were standing
together right astern beyond the two rowers there, who were too intent
upon working their oars to pay any heed to them and their discourse,
though as it was carried on in English, they could have made out
nothing, had they listened.
"I'm glad father wasn't cross," said Harry after several awkward
attempts at getting up a conversation, Phra having replied to all he
said in monosyllables, as in the present instance.
"Yes."
"It seemed so queer to get up and contradict his orders, and say we
would do as we liked."
"Yes," said Phra, with a sigh, and then he added, "but it was quite
right, for we both felt that it was like doing our duty."
"Ah!" cried Harry eagerly. "So it was. Look here, Phra, old chap,
don't you be down-hearted."
"I am not going to be till I know the worst."
"That's the way to take it; for look here, that Adong would only know
that there was gong-beating and spearing and setting places on fire--a
regular riot. He would not know anything about how matters were at the
palace."
"No; he could not," said Phra, with a sigh.
"And your father has got plenty of fighting men, who could soon stop a
mob."
"If they were faithful to him," said Phra, sighing.
"Oh well, they would be for certain."
"I don't know," said Phra. "I have always been afraid of this. You
see, the second king has made friends with the bonzes, and they can
talk and preach to the people, and make them believe almost anything
about my father."
"Because he does all kinds of scientific things," said Harry, "that
they cannot understand."
"Yes," said Phra; "it is the old story. They are too stupid to grasp
the meaning of all he does, and because they cannot understand it,
they teach the people to believe that it is all what you English
people call 'witchcraft' and wickedness. Oh, I have not patience with
the silly babies--they are not men."
"I hope we shall have a chance to knock some of their thick heads
together. There, you are getting in better heart now about the news."
Phra turned upon him sadly.
"Are you getting in better heart about poor Mrs. Cameron?" he said.
"Oh, Phra!" cried Harry passionately. "Don't."
"You tell me to be of good heart about my father and you are in
despair about Mrs. Cameron."
"Yes, that's right," cried Harry passionately; "but I won't be so any
longer, for I don't believe that any of your people, even the very
worst of them, would be such wretches as to hurt her."
Phra uttered a low groan.
"What!" cried Harry. "You do believe they would?"
"Our people," said Phra sadly, "are, as my father has said to me,
quiet and good and gentle as can be. They always seem merry and happy;
but deep down in their nature there is a something which can be
stirred up, and then they are like the fierce savages from the
mountains yonder. They will do anything terrible then, and these
wretches who are trying to place the second king in my father's place
know that and have driven them to rise. Hal, we can't tell what may
have happened till we get down home; but if they have killed my
father, I am king, and I shall pray night and day that I may grow
quickly into a man, so that I may kill and kill and kill till I feel
that my dear father is avenged. It will be war until I have done my
duty there."
Harry was silent, as he stood listening and gazing in his companion's
face, which had suddenly seemed to start out of the darkness--the face
alone; all else was pretty well invisible--and there it was, a
strange, pale, ghastly-looking visage, distorted by the agony in the
boy's breast, and the deadly determination the pangs had brought
forth.
Harry shuddered, and for some time the only sounds heard were the
murmur of voices in the cabin and the _swish_ of water as the men
dipped their oars.
"Your father was right," said the English boy at last.
"What about?" said Phra hoarsely.
"About the Siamese people being so amiable and gentle until they are
stirred."
"Yes, I see what you mean," replied Phra, "and I suppose it is so,
Hal. I feel as if I can see my poor father lying dead and covered with
bad wounds given by a set of cowards rushing upon him, and it makes me
seem to see blood, and I want to punish them for killing one who has
thought of nothing but doing the people good."
"There, don't think such things any more," cried Harry. "I won't. It
can't be true. I'm going to believe that we shall find him and Mrs.
Cameron quite well. Yes; I know how it would be, for your father is
such a thorough gentleman in his ways, and so thoughtful. As soon as
he heard of there being any trouble, he would either go or send one of
the people with a lot of spearmen to protect them, and bring Mrs.
Cameron and all the English people into the palace. Now then, what
have you got to say to that?"
"Yes, I think he is sure to have done that," said Phra, speaking very
slowly and gravely. "He would--if he had time; but suppose the first
he heard of the trouble was in the mad rush made by his murderers."
"Shan't!" cried Harry. "I won't suppose anything of the kind. But I
say, it's a pity that we didn't take more notice about what I heard
said that day when we were lying in the boat place."
"Yes," said Phra; "but I did not think we need mind a few bitter
words. Such things have been so often said by the discontented
people."
"Discontented!" cried Harry angrily; "and a deal they had to be
discontented about! They always seemed, from the poorest to the
richest, as comfortable and as happy as could be."
The morning broke as bright and sunny as ever, but to those on board
the boat all was changed. The excitement and delight of the trip, with
its constant array of fresh objects, were gone. The birds which
flashed out of the trees looked dull of colour; the troops of monkeys
bounding through the branches on either side were unnoticed; and the
gorgeous displays of flowers that here and there greeted the eyes of
the travellers excited no attention.
The crocodiles seemed to Harry to be the only things in keeping with
their situation, as in a gloomy, despondent way he went to the fore
part of the boat to look out for them on a mud bank, or lying, with
only their eyes visible on the surface of the water, in some eddy or
pool.
The constant presence of these loathsome reptiles suggested to him the
troubles at the city and its outskirts. And he felt that there would
be fighting, with people slain and tossed into the stream, where the
crocodiles would gather in swarms; and there were moments when he
almost wondered that some strange instinct did not lead the horrible
creatures to follow the boat instead of hiding in the dark parts,
where the trees hung their branches low down and touching the water.
After a time he heard his name called, and he went back to the cabin,
where he felt quite hurt and disgusted to see that Mike had prepared a
comfortable breakfast, and his friends were waiting for him before
beginning.
Harry's face must have spoken plainly his wonder at seeing the doctor,
so short a time before overcome with grief, looking perfectly calm and
serious, and prepared to take his place. His father noticed it, and
spoke at once.
"Yes, my boy," he said, "we must eat and drink, or the machinery will
be useless when we want it most for thinking and acting. Sit down and
make a good breakfast."
"Oh, father," cried the boy passionately, "I feel as if I could not
touch anything."
"We all do, Hal," said Mr. Kenyon; "but we may have to fight, and we
shall require all our strength in our efforts to save Mrs. Cameron and
the King."
Harry nodded, took his place, and--there is no other way of describing
what followed--ate and drank savagely, acting as if every morsel or
draught that passed his lips were to give him strength for what might
come.
The meal was soon ended, and Mike received his orders to see that the
men were refreshed, while the doctor and Mr. Kenyon commenced talking,
with the result that the two boys now went right aft and sat together
looking up stream.
For some minutes neither spoke, and then Harry broke out angrily:--
"It makes me feel mad," he cried.
"Yes," said Phra, "and one feels the worse at having to sit here and
wait, without being able to do anything."
"I didn't mean that," cried Harry angrily; "I mean about sitting and
eating and drinking there, just as if I was an animal without any
feeling. It's horrible."
"Your father was quite right," said Phra; "we do want to be strong."
Harry grunted, and turned away his face, to sit scowling at the river,
while Phra rested his head upon his hand.
"Oh," cried Harry at last, "I should like to kill some one."
Phra smiled at him sadly.
"Perhaps we shall have to try before long," he said.
"I hope so. I should like to help kill all the wretches who have made
all this trouble."
"Should you?" said Phra, with a faint smile. "But look here, Hal, you
will try and help me to save my father?"
"Will I?" cried the boy angrily. "Why, you know I will. Here, Phra,
let's try and think out some way of getting him out of the palace."
"I'm afraid we shall find that he has shut himself up there, and that
we cannot get near him."
"Well, so long as he is safe we need not mind."
They sat on talking and planning together, more for the sake of
keeping from dwelling on the great trouble than from any hope of
thinking out something feasible, and the day wore on till the boat was
drawn up to an opening in the apparently endless jungle.
Harry said to his companion that it was a shame, but it was a
necessity. Food had to be cooked for the men as well as for
themselves, and it was no loss of time, for after a couple of hours'
rest the men worked with renewed energy, the boat gliding swiftly down
the stream till it became too dark to venture farther amidst the many
dangers to navigation. In fact, they had kept on till, in spite of the
native boatmen's skill, the light craft was run half over a huge
tree-trunk lying out at right angles to the bank, and for a time a
terrible capsize was imminent.
For the bows were clean out of the river for some distance, and the
water began to rush in over the stern, till several of the men crept
forward, with the result that the bows went down so suddenly, as the
craft balanced on the great trunk, that the water rushed in at the
other end, and it seemed to be a foregone conclusion that they would
sink. For with a rush and a plunge they cleared the obstacle, gliding
over into the deep water, the boat filling to gunwale as she came to a
level again, with every one preparing to swim for the nearest shore.
But Sree called upon the little crew to follow his example, and they
all glided overboard, taking opposite sides, and supported themselves
by holding on to the boat.
Then, in obedience to calls from Sree, the boys handed the men various
articles from Mike's little kitchen arrangements. Those left on board
took crock and bucket, and from their united efforts in baling, all
danger of sinking was soon at an end, while in a few minutes the men
one by one crept back into the boat, where they could bale with more
effect.
Finally the boat was entirely freed from water, and an opening, which
happened to be near at hand, was reached, a fire made for drying
clothes, and as wretched a night as could be imagined was spent.
But they were all dry and able to start the moment it began to be
light, and that day was a repetition of the preceding, and followed by
another despondent night, this time, though, one which gave
refreshment to all.
That next day they knew they would reach the river town, and had to
time themselves so as not to get there before dark, in spite of the
eagerness for news. But it was hard to contrive everything to their
wishes. It had been expected that they would get right back two hours
before sunset, and this meant lying up in some creek for that space,
while Sree or Adong went forward by land to reconnoitre and bring news
of the state of affairs; but it so happened that the tide had not been
counted upon, and instead of gliding down with the stream for the
latter part of the way, they had to force the boat against an adverse
current, so that it became hard work to get to their destination by
dark.