THE MOUNTAIN RANGE
To go afoot is ideal travelling. Going afoot allows a man to see all
that there is to see, gives leave for dallying. Who goes afoot is
satisfied with by-paths when the high road is no more. He may proceed
as the humour takes him, pass where the lightest vehicle, the best
trained steed, could find no way, ascend the shelving steeps, and scale
the mountain tops.
Thus, though they might have to endure great fatigue, Mr. Wolston and
the two young men had not hesitated to plunge on foot into the heart
of the unknown districts of the hinterland, all the more willingly in
anticipation of their projected climb to the summit of the range.
This plan only involved a tramp of eighteen or twenty miles, provided
they were able to go in a bee line to the foot of the mountains. There
was thus no question of any long journey. But it was all through
entirely new country, which might hold surprises for the three
explorers.
Jack was the most highly excited of the party. With his adventurous
temper it was an enormous satisfaction to him to pass beyond the limits
of the Promised Land and to travel over these wide plains, of which
he as yet knew nothing. It was a fortunate thing that he was not
mounted on onager, bull, or ostrich, and that he had brought only one
dog, Fawn. Thus, Mr. Wolston would have some chance of restraining his
impetuosity.
When they emerged from the defile the three turned first towards the
little eminence which was called the Arabian Watch-tower, in memory of
the troop of ostriches in which M. Zermatt and his boy had imagined
they saw a troop of Bedouin Arabs on horseback, on the occasion of
their first visit to the Green Valley. From this tower they turned off
towards the Bears' Cave where, a few years before, Ernest had come so
near being suffocated in the hug of one of these much too pressing
creatures!
It was not their notion to follow up the course of the Eastern River,
which ran from south to west.
That would have meant lengthening their route, since the slopes of the
range rose towards the south.
This led Ernest to observe:
"What we can't do on the Eastern River might have been done on the
Montrose. It would certainly have been much shorter for us if we could
have gone up one of its banks."
"What I want to know," said Jack, "is why we could not have gone in the
pinnace to the mouth of the Montrose? The canoe might have taken us
from there as far as the barrage, which is twelve to fifteen miles at
most from the range."
"Nothing would have been easier, my dear boy," Mr. Wolston replied.
"But the desert country through which the Montrose runs has nothing
of interest to show us. So it is ever so much better to go across the
region which lies between Deliverance Bay and the mountains."
Their route continued down the Green Valley, which extended for about
five miles parallel to the boundary wall of the Promised Land. This
valley was about a couple of thousand yards in width, and contained
dense woods, isolated clumps of trees, and grass lands rising in
terraces up its sloping sides. In it was a stream which murmured as it
ran among the reeds, and which flowed either into the Eastern River, or
into Nautilus Bay.
Mr. Wolston and the two brothers were longing to get to the end of the
Green Valley, so as to obtain their first glimpse of the country which
opened up to the south. To the best of his skill and knowledge Ernest
took their bearings as they went, by means of his pocket compass, and
made notes of them, with the distances they covered.
About midday they halted in the shade of a clump of guava trees, not
far from grass where euphorbia grew in abundance. A few partridges
which Jack had shot as he went along, were plucked and cleaned and
roasted over a fire, and, with some cassava cakes, formed the luncheon.
The stream provided clear water, with which a dash of brandy from the
flasks was mixed, and ripe guavas served admirably for dessert.
Invigorated and rested, the three men resumed their march. The far end
of the valley was penned in between two lofty walls of rock. As it ran
through this narrow gorge the stream was transformed into a torrent,
and the outlet came into view.
An almost flat country, displaying all the luxuriant fertility of
the tropics, spread as far as the first belts of the range. What
a difference from the region watered by the upper reaches of the
Montrose! A couple of miles away to the south-east, a liquid ribbon
unrolled, gleaming in the sun, no doubt flowing to join the Montrose.
Southwards, as far as the foot of the mountains, for fifteen miles or
more, plains and forests succeeded one another. The marching was often
heavy. The ground was thickly covered with grass five and six feet
high, with tall reeds studded with prickly plumes, and with sugar-canes
waving in the breeze as far as eye could see. There was no doubt
it would be possible to develop with vast profit all these natural
products which, at this period, formed the principal wealth of over-sea
dominions.
When Mr. Wolston and the two young men had walked for four solid hours,
Ernest said:
"I vote we call a halt."
"What, already?" exclaimed Jack, who had as little desire to rest as
his dog had.
"I agree with Ernest," said Mr. Wolston. "This seems a suitable spot,
and we can spend the night at the edge of this copse of nettle-trees."
"Well, then, let us camp," said Jack, "and have dinner, too, for my
stomach's empty."
"Must we light a fire and keep it up till daylight?" Ernest asked.
"It would be wise," Jack declared; "that is the best way to keep wild
beasts off."
"No doubt," said Mr. Wolston, "but we should have to keep watch in
turns, and I think sleep is better. I do not think there is anything
for us to fear."
"No," said Ernest confidently; "I have not noticed any suspicious
tracks, and we have not heard a growl since we left the Green Valley.
We may as well spare ourselves the weariness of keeping watch one after
the other."
Jack did not insist, and the travellers prepared to appease their
hunger.
The night gave promise of being one of those nights when nature
slumbers sweetly, and no breath disturbs the peace. Not a leaf moved
among the trees, not the snapping of a twig broke the silence of the
plain.
Fawn betrayed no symptoms of uneasiness. No hoarse bark of jackals was
heard from afar, although those brutes were so numerous in the island.
Upon the whole, there did not seem to be the least imprudence in
sleeping under the open sky.
Mr. Wolston and the two brothers dined off the remains of their
luncheon and a few turtle eggs, which Ernest had found, roasted among
the ashes, with the addition of some of the fresh kernels of the
fir-apples which grew in quantities in the neighbourhood, and which
have the flavour of the hazel-nut.
The first to close his eyes was Jack, for he was the most tired of the
three. He had never stopped beating the thickets and the bushes, often
at such a distance that Mr. Wolston had been obliged to call him back.
But as he was the first to go to sleep, so, too, was he the first to
wake at daybreak.
The three resumed their march at once. An hour later they had to ford
a little stream which probably ran into the Montrose five or six miles
further on. So at least Ernest believed, taking its south-westerly
course into consideration.
There were still the same wide prairies, vast plantations of
sugar-cane, and, in the damp places, many clumps of those wax-trees
which bear the flower on one stalk and the fruit upon the other.
At last dense forests appeared instead of the trees that grew singly
upon the flanks of the Green Valley, cinnamons, palms of various kinds,
figs, mangroves, and many bearing no edible fruit, such as spruce and
evergreen oak and maritime oak, all of magnificent growth. Except in
the few spots where the wax-trees grew, there were no marshy places
in this district. Moreover, the ground rose steadily--a fact which
deprived Jack of his last hope of meeting any flocks of waterfowl. He
would have to be satisfied with the game of plain and forest.
Mr. Wolston said:
"It is quite clear, my dear Jack, that we shall have nothing to
complain of if we are reduced to sultana birds, partridges, quails,
bustards and grouse, not to mention antelopes, cavies, and agoutis. But
I think it would be wise only to lay in supplies just as we are going
to make a halt, so as to not to overload our game-bags."
"You are quite right, Mr. Wolston," the ardent sportsman replied. "But
when game comes within such easy range it is very difficult to resist."
But finally Jack fell in with Mr. Wolston's advice. It was as late as
eleven o'clock when several gunshots proclaimed the fact that the bill
of fare for the first meal was just completed. People who like their
game a little high would very likely have found fault with the brace of
grouse and the three snipe that Fawn retrieved from the brushwood. But
nothing was left of these birds, which were roasted before a fire of
dry wood. As for the dog, he regaled himself upon the carcasses.
In the afternoon, however, a few more shots were necessary to drive
away animals formidable if only because of their superior numbers. All
three guns had to speak to put to flight a band of wild cats, of the
kind that had been seen previously within the Promised Land, when the
first visit was paid to the Green Valley. They made off with a heavy
list of wounded, raising hideous cries which resembled mewing and
howling mixed. It might be well to make careful provision against an
attack by them during the next halt for the night.
This country was rich in birds, other than game--parrots, parrakeets,
brilliant scarlet macaws, tiny toucans with green wings decked with
gold, big Virginian blue-jays, and tall flamingoes. It was also
thronged with antelopes, elands, quaggas, onagers, and buffaloes.
Directly they scented the presence of man from afar, these creatures
galloped away at great speed.
The country, still rising steadily towards the range, had lost as yet
none of its fertility, which was as great as that of the northern part
of the island. Soon Mr. Wolston, Ernest, and Jack came to a wooded
belt. As they drew near the foot of the mountains they saw a succession
of lofty forests, seemingly of great density. Next morning they might
expect a much more difficult and fatiguing march.
That evening the hungry men regaled themselves upon hazel-hens, of
which all three had bagged a few from a covey which Fawn put up in the
tall and tangled grass. Camp was pitched at the edge of a magnificent
forest of sago-trees, watered by a tiny stream which the steep pitch of
the ground converted into a torrent as it sped on its course towards
the south-west.
On this occasion Mr. Wolston decided to organise a sharp watch on the
outskirts of the camp. A fire was to be kept alive until dawn. This
necessitated their taking it in turns to watch by it throughout the
night, which was disturbed by the howling of animals within close
distance.
The start next morning was made in the small hours. Another seven or
eight miles, and the foot of the mountains would be reached--perhaps in
the second stage that day, if no obstacle occurred to delay the march.
And if the flanks of the range were practicable on their northern side,
the ascent would only take the first few hours of the following morning.
The country now presented a very different appearance from that seen
on emerging from the Green Valley. To right and left, woods rose,
tier on tier. They consisted almost exclusively of resinous species,
which flourish in great altitudes, and were watered by brawling little
streams which flowed towards the east. These little streams, which
contributed directly or indirectly to the Montrose, would soon dry up
under the heat of summer, and already it was possible to cross them
ankle-deep.
The adventurers went on until eleven o'clock. A halt was then called
for rest and refreshment, after a pretty tiring stage.
There had been no lack of game from the start. Jack had even succeeded
in bagging a young antelope, the best portions of which he brought in,
and the game-bags were packed with what was left, to serve for the
evening dinner.
It was well that this precaution had been taken for in the afternoon
all game, both furred and feathered, entirely disappeared.
The midday halt was passed at the foot of an enormous pine, near which
Ernest lighted a fire of dead branches. While one of the antelope's
quarters was roasting under Jack's vigilant eye, Mr. Wolston and Ernest
went off a few hundred yards to get a look at the country.
"If this forest belt extends as far as the range," said Ernest, "it
most likely covers the lower slopes. At least, that is what I thought I
could see this morning when we left our camp."
"In that case," Mr. Wolston replied, "we shall have to make the best
of it, and go through these forests. We could not get round them
without greatly lengthening our route, and we might even have to go
right to the east coast."
"Which must be something like twenty-five miles away," Ernest remarked,
"if my estimate is right. I mean the part of the coast we went to in
the pinnace, at the mouth of the Montrose."
"If that is so, my dear boy, we cannot think of reaching the range from
the east. The west----"
"That is the unknown quantity, sir; besides, when the range is viewed
from above the Green Valley, it seems to run out of sight to the
westward."
"Well, then," said Mr. Wolston, "if we have no choice, let us risk it
and break our way right through this forest to the other side. If we
can't do it in one day, we will take two, or we will take three; but we
will get to our goal."
The antelope's meat, done to a turn on the live embers, some cassava
cakes, and a handful of fruit gathered close by, bananas, guavas, and
cinnamon apples, formed the meal, for which an hour's halt sufficed.
Then they picked up their arms and game-bags again, and all three
plunged into the forest, guiding themselves by the pocket compass.
Marching was easy enough among these straight-stemmed, widely-spaced
pines and firs, for the ground was fairly level and carpeted with
grass, or rather a kind of scanty moss, which was almost free from
brambles and undergrowth. It would have been far otherwise in a
semi-tropical forest, where the trees are entangled by parasites
and knotted together by creepers. There were no serious obstacles
to interfere with free movement in this vast pine wood. There was,
it is true, no beaten path to be followed, not even one beaten by
animals; but the trees allowed of free passage, although necessitating
occasional détours.
Although game was now scarce, Jack and Mr. Wolston, and Ernest, too,
were obliged to use their guns during this stage. It was not a matter
of carnivorous animals, lions, tigers, panthers or pumas, some of which
had been seen near the Promised Land and in the country round about
Pearl Bay. But it was a breed as numerous as it was mischievous.
"The beggars!" Jack exclaimed. "One might almost think that the whole
lot came to take shelter here after we drove them out of the woods at
Wood Grange and Sugar-cane Grove!"
And after having received several fir-cones, hurled by a strong arm, in
the chest, he made haste to let fly a couple of shots in reply.
A fusillade had to be kept up for a whole hour, at the risk of
exhausting the ammunition carried for the trip. A score of monkeys lay
on the ground, seriously or mortally wounded. When they came toppling
down from branch to branch, Fawn sprang upon those that had not got
strength left to escape, and finished them off by throttling them.
"If it were cocoanuts the rascals were bombarding us with," Jack
remarked, "it would not be half bad."
"By Jove!" Mr. Wolston answered, "I prefer fir-cones to cocoanuts. They
are not so hard."
"That is so; but there is no nourishment in them," Jack replied.
"Whereas the cocoanut is meat and drink too."
"Well," said Ernest, "it is better to have these monkeys in the
interior of the island than to have them in the neighbourhood of our
farms. We have had quite enough to do already to protect ourselves from
their damage, and to destroy them with traps and lines. If these will
stay in their pinewood and never come back to the Promised Land, that
is all we ask of them."
"And we ask them politely, too!" Jack added, backing his courtesy up
with a final shot.
When the engagement was over they resumed their march, and the only
difficulty lay in keeping a steady course towards the range.
For the canopy of pines spread away before them, dense and
impenetrable, without a single break, without a single glimpse of where
the declining sun now stood. There was not a clearing; not so much as a
fallen tree. Mr. Wolston could congratulate himself on having brought
neither waggon nor mount with him. The team of buffaloes, and Jack's
onager, would have found it impossible to get through some places where
the pines grew so close that they were almost entangled in one another,
and it might have become necessary to turn back.
About seven in the evening they reached the southern boundary of the
pine forest. The upward slope of the ground was so steep that the
forest spread in tiers over the lower ramifications of the range, and
the mountain summits came into view just as the sun was sinking behind
the lesser chains which cut the western horizon.
There was a vast accumulation here of fragments of rock that had fallen
from the mountain top. Here, too, a number of streams broke out, the
source, perhaps, of the Montrose River, and followed the slope of the
ground towards the east.
In spite of their keen desire to reach their goal, Mr. Wolston and the
two boys looked about and sought a recess in the rocks, where they
could find shelter until the morning. Then, whilst Ernest was busy
getting ready their meal, Mr. Wolston and Jack went to the nearest
trees to gather armfuls of dry grass, which they spread on the sand
inside the little cave. They ate a couple of grouse, and then, being
very tired, turned their thoughts to sleep.
But some precautions had to be taken. As day drew to a close animals
had been heard howling near at hand, and with the howling an occasional
roar was heard, the nature of which it would have been difficult for
anyone to fail to realise.
So a fire was lighted at the mouth of the cave, to be kept up all night
with the dry wood, of which Mr. Wolston and Jack collected a great heap.
Watch was maintained until sunrise, Ernest taking the first watch of
three hours, Jack the second, and Mr. Wolston the third.
Next morning at daybreak all three were astir, and Jack called out in
his ringing tones:
"Well, Mr. Wolston, here is the great day at last! In a few hours the
dearest wish of your heart will be accomplished! You will have planted
your flag on the highest point of New Switzerland!"
"In a few hours? Well, yes, if the climb is not too difficult," Ernest
remarked.
"Anyhow," said Mr. Wolston, "whether to-day or to-morrow, we shall
probably know what to think about the size of the island."
"Unless it extends right out of sight to the south and west," Jack
replied.
"I don't think so," Mr. Wolston answered, "for then it could not have
been missed by navigators in this part of the Indian Ocean."
"We shall see, we shall see!" Jack replied.
They made their breakfast of cold venison, carefully saving all that
was left, for there would certainly be no game at all upon these barren
slopes, which Fawn did not like at all. Outside the cave they slung
their guns over their shoulders, for there were no wild animals to be
afraid of now. Then, with Jack in front, Ernest following, and Mr.
Wolston bringing up the rear, the three began the ascent of the lower
slopes.
Ernest computed the height of the range to be eleven or twelve hundred
feet. One peak, which rose up almost in front of the pinewood, towered
six hundred feet above the ridge line. It was at the summit of this
peak that Mr. Wolston desired to plant a flag.
About a hundred yards from the cave the forest belt came to an abrupt
end. A few patches of verdure were still to be seen above, grass land
with clumps of dwarf trees, aloes, mastics, myrtles, and heaths,
attaining a height of six or seven hundred feet, and representing the
second belt. But the acclivity was so steep that in some places it
exceeded fifty degrees, and they had to tack on the way up.
A circumstance favourable to the ascent was that the mountain side
provided a firm foot-hold. There was no reason yet to hold on by the
finger nails or have recourse to crawling. The foot got a firm hold on
the verdure, broken by roots and jutting points of rock.
So the ascent could be effected without check, zigzagging so as to
reduce the angle of inclination, although it would involve fatigue.
Before the summit was reached the climbers would be obliged to halt
at least once or twice to get their wind. Ernest and Jack, young and
vigorous, in constant training and inured to all physical exercise,
might not feel over-fatigued, but Mr. Wolston, at his age, could not
afford a like expenditure of strength. But he would be quite satisfied
if he and his companions were encamped at the foot of the peak before
lunch time; it would only take them an hour or two after that to gain
the extreme top.
Over and over again Jack was entreated not to imagine himself a
chamois. They continued to mount, and, for his part, Mr. Wolston was
determined not to cry halt till he had reached the foot of the peak,
where the second belt of the range came to an end. That the most
difficult part of the task would then be accomplished was not certain.
For if, at that height, the eye could see towards the north and west
and east, it certainly would not be able to see anything of the
country which lay to the south. To do that they must reach the extreme
summit. The country towards the Green Valley was known, between the
mouth of the Montrose and the promontory of Pearl Bay. So their most
natural and legitimate curiosity would not be satisfied until they
had climbed to the top of the peak, or, should the ascent of it prove
impracticable, until they had succeeded in working round it.
At last, when the second belt had been crossed, a halt at its extremity
became imperative. Rest was necessary after such expenditure of energy.
It was noon, and, after luncheon, the ascent of the longest incline of
the peak could be begun again. Their stomachs were fairly clamouring
for food. Physical effort of such a kind is apt to interfere with the
digestion. But the urgency was now to fill their stomachs, without
troubling to find out beforehand if they would or would not digest
easily a meal whose sole solid dish consisted of the last scraps of the
antelope.
An hour later Jack sprang to his feet again, leaped onto the first
rocks at the foot of the slope, disregarding Mr. Wolston's warnings,
and called out:
"Let him who loves me follow me!"
"Well, let us try to give him that proof of our affection, my dear
Ernest," was Mr. Wolston's reply, "and above all, let us try to prevent
him from making a fool of himself!"