THE DISTANT SMOKE!
The next morning about six o'clock, at low tide, the points of a few
rocks which had not been visible the day before were exposed round the
edge of the creek. It was ascertained, however, that even at lowest ebb
practicable passages remained forty to fifty fathoms in width. This
meant that the Montrose river was navigable at all stages of the tide.
The depth of water near the rocks where the _Elizabeth_ was moored was
so great that she was still floating five or six feet above the sandy
bottom.
About seven o'clock ripples were breaking along the rocks, forerunners
of the flood tide, and the pinnace would soon have swung round upon her
anchor if she had not been held by the hawser aft.
Mr. Wolston and Ernest, who had been ashore since daybreak, came back
at this moment, after inspecting the condition of the creek lower down.
They merely had to jump on deck to rejoin M. and Mme. Zermatt and Mrs.
Wolston and her daughter. Jack had gone out hunting with his two dogs,
and was still absent. A few gunshots notified his presence in the
neighbourhood and suggested his success in his sport. It was not long
before he put in an appearance, with his game-bag bulging with a brace
of partridges and half-a-dozen quails.
"I have not wasted my time or my powder," he remarked as he flung the
brilliant-plumaged game down in the bows.
"Our congratulations," his father replied; "and now do not let us waste
any more of the flood tide. Cast off the hawser and jump aboard."
Jack obeyed, and leaped onto the deck with his dogs. The anchor being
apeak already, it was only necessary to trice it up to the cathead.
The pinnace was immediately caught by the tide, and, driven by a light
breeze blowing in from the sea, she entered the mouth of the Montrose
river. Then with the wind behind her she began to ascend it, keeping to
the middle of the channel.
The breadth of the stream from one bank to the other was not less than
two hundred and fifty or three hundred feet. There was no indication
of its narrowing, as far as the eye could see the banks ahead. On the
right hand still ran the escarpment of the cliff, gradually diminishing
in height while the ground rose in a barely perceptible slope. On the
left, over the rather low bank, the eye travelled over plains broken
by woods and clumps of trees, the tops of which were turning yellow at
this season of the year.
After half an hour's good travelling, the _Elizabeth_ reached the first
bend of the Montrose, which, making a loop of about thirty degrees, now
wound towards the south-west.
Beyond this bend the banks were not more than ten or twelve feet
high--the height of the highest tides. This was proved by the layers of
grass deposited among the tangled reeds, sharp-edged like bayonets.
Inasmuch as on this date, the 19th of March, the equinoctial tides
attained their maximum height, the conclusion was that the bed of the
river was deep enough to contain all the sum of its waters, and that it
never overflowed the surrounding country.
The pinnace was moving at from eight to ten knots an hour, which meant
that she might expect to cover somewhere near twenty miles during the
time the flood tide lasted.
Ernest had taken note of her speed and remarked:
"That is more or less the distance at which we have calculated the
mountains rise in the south."
"Quite so," Mr. Wolston replied; "and if the river washes the foot of
the range we shall have no difficulty in reaching it. In that case we
need not postpone our projected trip for three or four months."
"Still, it would take more time than we can spare now," M. Zermatt
answered. "Even if the Montrose did take us to the foot of the range
we should not have reached our goal. We should still have to ascend to
the summit, and in all probability that would involve much time and
trouble."
"Besides," Ernest added, "when we have ascertained whether the river
continues its course towards the south-west, we have yet to learn
whether the stream is broken by rapids or barred by any obstacles we
cannot pass."
"We shall soon see," M. Zermatt replied. "Let us go on while the flood
tide carries us, and we will make up our minds on the other point in a
few hours' time."
Beyond the bend the two banks were much less steep, and enabled a wide
view to be obtained of the region traversed by the Montrose.
Game of every kind swarmed in the grass and among the reeds along the
banks; bustards, grouse, partridges and quails. If Jack had sent his
dogs foraging along the banks and in the adjacent country, they could
not have gone fifty yards without putting up rabbits, hares, agoutis,
peccaries, and water-cavies. In this respect this district equalled
that round Falconhurst, and the farmsteads--even in regard to the
monkey tribe, which capered from tree to tree. A little way off, herds
of antelope raced by, of the same species as that which was penned on
Shark's Island. Herds of buffalo, too, were seen in more than one spot
in the direction of the range, and sometimes distant glimpses were
caught of herds of ostriches, half running, half flying as they sped
away. On this occasion, M. Zermatt and his two sons did not mistake
them for Arabs, as they had mistaken the first ostriches they saw from
the heights above the hermitage at Eberfurt.
Jack was impatient at being pinned to the _Elizabeth's_ deck and unable
to jump ashore, at having to watch all these birds and animals going by
without being able to speed them with a shot. Yet there would have been
no good in bringing down any of the game, since it was not required.
"We are not hunters to-day," his father reminded him; "we are
explorers, and, more particularly, geographers on a mission in this
part of New Switzerland."
The young Nimrod did not see the matter in that light, and made up his
mind to beat the country with his dogs as soon as the pinnace reached
her first anchorage. He would further the cause of geography in his own
fashion; that is, he would survey partridges and hares instead of the
points of the compass. This last was the job for the learned Ernest
who was so anxious to add to his map the new territory that lay to the
south of the Promised Land.
Of carnivorous animals and of those wild beasts which, as has been
said, were so numerous in the woods and plains at the end of Pearl Bay
and at the entrance to the Green Valley, not a trace was seen along the
banks of the Montrose during the course of this voyage. By great good
fortune no lions or tigers, panthers or leopards, showed themselves.
Jackals could be heard, indeed, howling in the outskirts of the nearest
woods. The conclusion was that these beasts, which belong to a subgenus
of the Canidæ family, between the wolf and the fox, constituted the
majority of the fauna of the island.
It would be an oversight not to make mention of the many waterfowl
seen, duck, teal, and snipe, which flew from one bank to another or
took cover among the reeds. Jack would never willingly have thrown
away such opportunities of exercising his skill. So he fired a few
successful shots, and no one found fault with him for doing so, unless,
perhaps, it was Hannah, who always begged quarter for these inoffensive
creatures.
"Inoffensive, perhaps, but excellent--when they are cooked to a turn!"
Jack retorted.
And it really was matter for congratulation that at luncheon and
dinner the bill of fare was supplemented by the wild fowl which Fawn
retrieved from the stream of the Montrose.
It was a little after eleven o'clock that the _Elizabeth_ reached a
second bend in the river which turned further to the west, according to
Ernest's expectation. From its general direction it could be deduced
with sufficient certainty that it came down from the range, still some
fifteen miles or more away, from which it was manifestly fed largely.
"It is annoying that the tide has almost finished running," said
Ernest, "and that we cannot go any farther."
"Really annoying," M. Zermatt replied, "but it is slack now, and the
ebb will be perceptible quite soon. Well, as this is the season of
the highest tides, it is clear that the flood tide never reaches much
beyond this bend of the Montrose."
"Nothing could be clearer," Mr. Wolston agreed. "So now we must decide
whether we shall moor here or whether we shall take advantage of the
ebb to go back to the creek, which the pinnace could reach in less than
two hours."
The spot was charming, and every one was much tempted to spend the day
there. The left bank formed a tiny cove, into which a little tributary
of fresh and running water fell. Above it bent some mighty trees, with
dense foliage, in which myriad chirpings and rustlings of wings were
heard. It was a clump of enormous Indian fig-trees, almost identical
with the mangrove-trees at Falconhurst. Behind this were groups of
evergreen oaks, through whose shade the sun's rays could not pierce.
Right at the back, under the dome of guava trees and cinnamons, down
the whole length of the tributary stream, a fresh breeze stole, swaying
the lower branches like so many fans.
"What a perfectly delightful spot!" Mme. Zermatt exclaimed. "Expressly
designed to be the site of a villa! A pity it is so far from Rock
Castle!"
"Yes: much too far, my dear," M. Zermatt replied. "But the site will
not be wasted, you may be quite sure, and we must not take everything
for ourselves. Would you leave nothing for our future fellow-citizens?"
"You may be quite sure, Betsy," Mrs. Wolston said, "that this part of
the island, watered by the Montrose river, will be much sought after by
new colonists."
"Meanwhile," said Jack, "I vote we camp here until evening, and even
till to-morrow morning."
"That is what we have to decide," M. Zermatt declared. "We must not
forget that the ebb can take us back to the creek in a couple of hours,
and that we should be back at Rock Castle by to-morrow evening."
"What do you think about it, Hannah?" Ernest asked.
"Let your father decide," the girl answered. "But I quite agree that
this spot is delightful, and it would be pleasant to stay in it for one
afternoon."
"Besides," Ernest continued, "I should like to take a few more
bearings."
"And we should like to take a little nourishment," Jack exclaimed.
"Let us have lunch! Of your pity, let us have lunch!"
It was agreed that they should spend the afternoon and evening in this
loop of the Montrose. Then, at the next ebb tide, about one o'clock in
the morning, when the night was clear--there would be a full moon--the
pinnace would go down the river without the least risk. After leaving
the creek she would either go to Unicorn Bay and anchor there, or would
round Cape East and make Rock Castle, as the state of the sea and the
direction of the wind might dictate.
As soon as the pinnace was made fast by her bows to the foot of a tree,
her stern immediately swung round down stream, clear proof that the ebb
tide was beginning to run.
After luncheon Mme. Zermatt, Mrs. Wolston, and Hannah agreed to
settle themselves down in the encampment while the exploration of the
surrounding country was effected. It really was important to make a
more complete survey of this region. So it was arranged that M. Zermatt
and Jack should go and hunt along the little tributary, remaining
comparatively close to its mouth, and that Mr. Wolston and Ernest
should take the canoe and go as far up the river as they could, to
return in time for dinner.
The canoe, paddled by Mr. Wolston and Ernest, set off up river, while
M. Zermatt and Jack went along the bank of the winding streamlet which
ran down from the north.
Beyond this loop the Montrose bent towards the south-west. The canoe
kept on its way along banks bordered by leafy forest trees and
rendered almost inaccessible by tangled grasses and interlaced reeds.
It would have been impossible to effect a landing there, and it was not
necessary. The important thing was to ascertain the general direction
of the river by ascending it as far as possible. Moreover, the field of
vision was soon enlarged. A mile or so further up, the forest mass grew
less dense. Further on again, broad plains succeeded, deformed with
rocky excrescences, which appeared to reach unbroken right to the foot
of the mountains.
The surface of the Montrose river shone like a mirror. There was good
reason to regret leaving the shadow of the trees which bordered it
lower down. Moreover, in the midst of a broiling atmosphere, where
there was now scarcely a breath of air, paddling was really hard work.
Fortunately, the force of the stream was not increased by the tide
running down, for the flood did not reach beyond the last loop or
elbow. They only had to contend with the normal flow of the river. The
waters were low now. Matters would be different in a few weeks' time,
during the rainy season, when the mountain range would send down its
contribution through the natural issue of the Montrose.
In spite of the heat, Mr. Wolston and Ernest paddled along
energetically. Among the fantastic bluffs of the river, behind the
points, there were occasional backwaters which they chose to take, so
as to economise their labour.
"It is not impossible," said Mr. Wolston, "that we might reach the
foot of the range in which the Montrose must have its source."
"So you cling to your idea, sir?" Ernest replied, shaking his head.
"Yes, I do, and it is most devoutly to be wished it may be so, my dear
boy. You will never know your island thoroughly until you have surveyed
its entire extent from the top of those mountains, which, I may further
remark, do not appear to be very lofty."
"I estimate their height at from twelve to fifteen hundred feet, Mr.
Wolston, and I agree with you that from the top of them it will be
possible to see all over New Switzerland, unless it is much larger than
we suppose. What is there beyond that range? The only reason why we do
not know already is that during these past twelve years we have never
felt pinched for room in the Promised Land."
"Quite so, my dear boy," Mr. Wolston replied; "but it is a matter of
real concern now to ascertain the actual size and importance of an
island which is destined to be colonised."
"That will be done, sir, next dry season, and before the _Unicorn_
comes back, you may be quite sure. To-day, however, I think it will be
wisest to limit ourselves to just these few hours' exploring; that will
be enough to enable us to ascertain the general course of the river."
"Yet with a little perseverance, Ernest, we might perhaps be able to
reach the range, and climb its northern slope."
"Provided the climb is not too steep, sir."
"Oh, well, with a good pair of legs----"
"You ought to have brought Jack instead of me," said Ernest with a
smile. "He would not have gainsaid you; he would have urged you to push
on as far as the mountains, even if you could not have got back before
to-morrow or the day after; and a nice state of anxiety we should all
have been in, during your long delay!"
"Well, yes, you are quite right, my dear boy," Mr. Wolston admitted.
"We must keep our promise since we have given it. One more hour's
going, and then our canoe shall return with the stream. No matter! I
shall not rest until we have planted the flag of old England on the
highest peak of New Switzerland!"
Mr. Wolston's ambition, so warmly declared, was that of a good
Englishman, at a time when Great Britain was sending her sailors over
all the seas in the wide world to extend her colonial possessions. But
he saw that it would be better to defer taking possession of the island
until later, and he refrained from pressing the matter further now.
They went on their way in the canoe. The further they penetrated
towards the south-west, the more open, treeless, and sterile the
country became. The grass lands were succeeded by barren tracts strewn
with stones. Hardly any birds flew over this naked area. There was no
sign of animal life except the howling of packs of jackals, which kept
out of sight.
"Jack was well advised not to come with us this time," Ernest remarked.
"Yes, indeed," Mr. Wolston answered; "he would not have had the chance
for a single shot. He will have much better luck in the forest land
that is watered by the little tributary of the Montrose."
"Anyhow, what we bring back as the result of our trip is the
information that this part of the island is like the part above Unicorn
Bay," said Ernest. "Who can say whether it is not much the same on the
other side of the range? Most likely the fertile part of the island is
the north and the middle only, between Pearl Bay and the Green Valley."
"So when we set out on our big excursion," Mr. Wolston replied, "I
think it will be best to march straight south instead of going all
round the coast to the east or west."
"I think so, too, sir, and the best way to get into the country will be
through the defile of Cluse."
It was now nearly four o'clock. The canoe was five or six miles above
the encampment when a sound of roaring waters became audible from
higher up the stream. Was it a mountain stream rushing into the bed of
Montrose? Or was it the Montrose itself, forming rapids there? Did some
dam of rocks render it unnavigable in the upper reaches?
Mr. Wolston and Ernest, stationary at the moment in a back water under
the shelter of a bluff, were just preparing to turn back. As the bank
was too steep for them to see above it Mr. Wolston said:
"Let us take a few strokes more and turn the point."
"Certainly," said Ernest; "it looks as if the Montrose will not help a
boat to get up to the foot of the mountains."
Mr. Wolston and Ernest began to paddle again with what strength they
had left after their four hours' toil under a burning sun.
The river here made a bend towards the south-west, which was manifestly
its general direction. A few moments later, some hundred yards further
up, a much longer reach came into view. It was dammed by a heap of
rocks scattered from one bank to the other, with only narrow breaks
between, through which the water poured in noisy falls that spread
commotion fifty yards below.
"That would have stopped us if we had meant to go on," Ernest remarked.
"It might have been possible to carry the canoe beyond the dam," Mr.
Wolston answered.
"If it is nothing more than a dam, sir."
"We will find out, my dear boy, for it is really important to know. Let
us get ashore."
On the left hand there was a narrow gorge, quite dry at this season,
which wound away across the upland. In a few weeks' time, no doubt,
when the rainy season began, it would serve as the bed of a torrent
whose roaring waters would join those of the Montrose.
Mr. Wolston drove the boat-hook into the ground; and he and Ernest
stepped onto the bank, up which they went so as to approach the dam
from the side.
It took them about a quarter of an hour to cover the intervening
distance, the path being strewn with stones loosely held in the sand by
coarse clumps of grass.
Scattered here and there, too, were pebbles of a brownish tint, with
rounded corners, very like shingle, and about the size of nuts.
When Mr. Wolston and Ernest reached the dam they discovered that the
Montrose was unnavigable for a good mile and a half. Its bed was
obstructed with rocks among which the water boiled, and the portage of
a canoe up stream would be a very laborious business.
The country appeared to be absolutely barren right up to the foot of
the range. For any trace of verdure it was necessary to look towards
the north-west and north, in the direction of the Green Valley, the
distant forests of which could just be seen on the boundary of the
Promised Land.
So there was nothing for it but to retrace their steps, and this Mr.
Wolston and Ernest did, greatly regretting that the Montrose was
blocked in this portion of its course.
As they went along the winding gorge Ernest picked up a few of the
brownish pebbles, which were heavier than their size seemed to warrant.
He put a couple of the little stones in his pocket with the intention
of examining them when he got back to Rock Castle.
It was with a good deal of vexation that Mr. Wolston turned his back on
the south-western horizon. But the sun was getting low, and it would
not have done to be belated so far from the encampment. So the canoe
took to the stream once more, and, driven along by the paddles, made
good speed down the river.
At six o'clock the whole party was gathered together again at the
foot of the clump of evergreen oaks. M. Zermatt and Jack were well
satisfied with their sport, and had brought back an antelope, a brace
of rabbits, an agouti, and several birds of various kinds.
The little tributary of the Montrose watered a very fertile tract
of country, sometimes crossing plains which were admirably suitable
for raising grain, sometimes running through dense woods. There were
also game districts where the sound of the sportsman's gun had almost
certainly just been heard for the first time.
A good dinner was waiting for the men after their excursion. It was
served under the shadow of the trees, on the bank of the stream, whose
running waters murmured over their sandy bed, sprinkled with aquatic
plants.
At nine o'clock all went to their berths aboard the _Elizabeth_ to
sleep well and soundly.
It had been settled that the pinnace should make a start at the
beginning of the ebb, that is to say about one o'clock in the morning,
so as to get the full advantage of the tide running out. Thus the time
for sleep was limited. But this could be made up for the following
night, either at Unicorn Bay, if they were in there, or at Rock Castle
if the _Elizabeth_ arrived there within the twenty-four hours.
In spite of the remonstrances of his sons and of Mr. Wolston, M.
Zermatt had decided to remain on deck, undertaking to awaken them at
the time arranged. It was necessary never wholly to relax caution.
At night wild beasts, unseen by day, leave their lairs, drawn to the
water-courses by thirst.
At one o'clock M. Zermatt called Mr. Wolston, Ernest, and Jack. The
first rippling of the ebb was just becoming audible. A light breeze
blew off the land. The sails were hoisted, hauled aboard, and gathered,
and the pinnace yielded to the two-fold action of the stream and wind.
The night was very clear, the sky strewn with stars like snowflakes
hung in space. The moon, almost full, was sinking slowly down towards
the northern horizon.
Nothing occurred to disturb this night voyage, although some
hippopotami were heard grunting, when half the journey was done. It
will be remembered from Fritz's narrative of his trip on the Eastern
River, that these amphibian monsters were already known to be in
occupation of the water-courses of the island.
As the weather was splendid and the sea calm, it was agreed that the
pinnace should make use at once of the morning breeze which was just
rising out at sea. M. Zermatt was glad to think that they might get
back to Rock Castle in about fifteen hours, that is to say before
nightfall.
In order to take the shortest route and make Cape East in a straight
line, the _Elizabeth_ was sailed a mile or more away out to sea. Her
passengers were then able to get a more complete view of the coast for
fully fifteen miles in a southerly direction.
M. Zermatt ordered the sheets to be hauled in, so as to work to
windward, and the pinnace shaped her course for Cape East on the
starboard tack.
Just at this moment Mr. Wolston, who was standing in the bows, raised
his spyglass to his eyes. He wiped its glass and scrutinised one of
the points of the coast with extreme attention.
Several times in succession he raised and then lowered the instrument,
and everyone was struck by the interest with which he scanned the
horizon to the south-east.
M. Zermatt handed over the tiller to Jack, and came forward with the
intention of questioning Mr. Wolston, who removed the telescope from
his eye and said:
"No; I am mistaken."
"What are you mistaken about, Wolston?" M. Zermatt enquired. "What did
you think you saw over there?"
"Smoke."
"Smoke?" echoed Ernest, who had come up, disturbed by the reply.
For the smoke could only come from some camp pitched on that part of
the shore. And that theory involved some disturbing questions. Was the
island inhabited by savages? Had they come from the Australian shore
in their canoes and landed, and would they attempt to penetrate into
the interior? The inhabitants of Rock Castle would be in considerable
danger if such people ever set foot within the Promised Land.
"Where did you see the smoke?" M. Zermatt asked sharply.
"There--above the last point that projects from the shore on this side."
And Mr. Wolston pointed to the extreme end of the land, twelve miles
or so away, which beyond that point turned off to the south-west and
was lost to sight.
M. Zermatt and Ernest, one after the other, examined the indicated spot
with the utmost care.
"Nothing at all," Ernest added.
Mr. Wolston watched for a few minutes more with the closest attention.
"No; I cannot distinguish the smoke now," he said. "It must have been
some light greyish vapour--a little cloud lying very low, perhaps,
which has just melted away."
The answer was reassuring. Yet as long as the point was within sight M.
Zermatt and his companions never took their eyes off it. But they saw
nothing which could cause them any uneasiness.
The _Elizabeth_, under full sail, was moving rapidly over a rather
choppy sea, which did not check her way. At one o'clock in the
afternoon she was off Unicorn Bay, which was left a couple of miles to
larboard; then, approaching nearer to the coast, she made in a straight
line towards Cape East.
The cape was rounded at four o'clock and as the flood tide was setting
to the west of Deliverance Bay, an hour would suffice to cover that
distance. Rounding Shark's Island, the _Elizabeth_ made at full speed
towards Jackal River, and thirty-five minutes later her passengers set
foot on the beach at Rock Castle.