Incredulity was impossible, although at first it was very hard to
believe. But there was the fact. They had been wandering through the
sluggish network of streams of a vast tropic, marshy forest, until a
tremendous storm in the hinterland had flooded the low country and they
had been swept out again far away from the spot where the Spanish
captain had guided them in, and, as they were soon to learn, for reasons
of his own.
Without question they had descended some miles along the main river,
which ran swiftly, burdened as it was by the waters of the flood, but
not sufficiently to do more than raise it to a rather abnormal height.
Still it was not safe to continue their journey downward by night, and
in spite of the anxiety of all, the boat was moored to a huge tree up
which the water had risen some three or four feet, and all anxiously
watched for the coming of the next day. They slept but little, for
there was so much to discuss, the doctor feeling now sure that when they
missed the Spanish captain it must have been because when all were
asleep he had stolen down to where the two blacks would be waiting for
him with their canoe, and then gone on up the river beyond their camp.
"But I don't see quite what for, uncle," said Rodd.
"I do," cried Moray. "He knew the country so well, and our ignorance,
which would make us go wandering helplessly about, while he knew of a
nearer way out into this river again, through which we seem to have been
providentially swept."
"That's right--quite right, Moray," said the doctor. "You see now,
Rodd?"
"Yes, uncle, it's quite clear now. I wish I wasn't so dense. Do you
see, Joe?"
"I didn't afore, sir; but it's all as clear as crystal now, and I should
just like to explain it to the lads. My word, gentlemen! That chap's
been running up a big bill again hisself, and when we get hold of him
he'll have to pay!"
"What are you thinking of, Moray?" said Rodd, a little while after,
while they were sitting listening in the darkness to the murmur of Joe's
voice forward as he was explaining matters to the men.
"I was thinking," said Moray gravely, "of how long it would be before it
is day."
The longest night comes to an end, and the breaking of that next day
showed the river much sunken and pretty well at its normal tidal height;
and with four men rowing steadily the boat glided downward, with the sun
when it rose showing first one and then another landmark which seemed
familiar; but after their one journey upward no one present could recall
how far they were above the careening place.
Again and again as they passed round some great bend Moray rose from his
seat, and, as Rodd afterwards told him, made them all miserable by
gazing wildly downwards in the expectation of catching sight of the
brig, or of seeing his father in his boat coming upward in search of the
missing ones, who had quite outstepped the time that their stay was to
last.
It was always the same; the poor fellow sank back into his place
wearily, his countenance drawn and a look of despair in his eyes. At
such times Rodd would watch his opportunity, steal his hand quietly
along, and give Morny's arm a long and friendly grip, with the result
that the dim eyes would brighten a little and dart a grateful glance in
the English lad's direction.
The journey downwards seemed endless, and proved to be far longer than
any one there anticipated. But just as the longest and darkest watch
nights come to their end, so it was here, when, skimming along under
sail, taking long reaches, for the wind was abeam, all at once Joe
Cross, who was the first to see, sang out a loud and hearty--
"Ship ahoy!"
"Hah!" cried Morny. "Do you see the brig?"
"No, sir," replied the man, as Morny, the doctor and Rodd shaded their
eyes and gazed down-stream; "I can't make out the brig."
"Oh, you don't half look," cried Rodd. "There's the Spanish schooner,
and ours, and just beyond them, half hidden by the trees and land, there
are the tops of the masts of the brig. Hurrah, Morny! She's all right,
afloat, and--Here, what are you looking that way for?"
"Because I can't see her," said the French lad despairingly. "There is
something wrong."
"Why, my dear old chap," cried Rodd, "you can't see well, because of the
trees, but as we get farther out, there she lies, to the left, with her
two masts as plain as plain."
"I can see those two masts you mean," said Morny sternly, "but they are
low-down raking masts; the _Dagobert's_ are much higher, and stand up
stiffer than those. Do you forget she's square-rigged? Why, that's a
schooner."
"So it is," cried Rodd. "I was deceived by the two yards on her
foremast. But look here, it can't be another schooner. Captain Chubb
may have been altering her rig when he got her upright again. Why, of
course! It must be so. There can't be three schooners there. They
must have had some accident to the brig's mainmast when they raised her
again. Broke her topgallant, perhaps, and rigged her fore and aft."
"Not they, Mr Rodd, sir. Our old man would have cut a spar somewhere
from the forest and rigged her square, if it was only a jury-mast.
'Sides, they'd got spare spars on board, same as we. That's another
schooner. You can see her clearer now--a long low one, with masts that
rake more than the Spanish skipper's vessel. Strikes me as we shall
find that for some reason or another they haven't got the brig afloat."
"Another schooner, Joe?" cried Morny passionately. "The brig not
finished? For some reason or another! What reason? What does it all
mean?"
"Be calm, my lad; be calm," cried the doctor. "In a very little while
we shall know the worst, or the best. Mind, we know nothing as yet. It
is all suspicion. For aught we can say to the contrary, that man whom
we have condemned may be innocent, misjudged by us, and now be lying at
the bottom of the river where we missed him in that mysterious way."
Morny bowed his head and tried to look gratefully at the doctor; but his
agony was too great, and he stood there till their boat had got to the
end of its tack and swung round in the other direction, when with shaded
eyes he gazed before him wildly, trying to get a view beyond where the
three schooners could now be plainly seen, anchored in mid-stream.
But for some time the curvature of the river put this out of the
question, and to break the painful silence the doctor said quietly--
"Another long low schooner, with raking masts. But it may be only
another trader, anchored in company with the rest."
"Ah," cried Morny to Joe Cross, "you see something more than we do!"
For the man, who was looking out from beyond the sail, suddenly gave a
start and angrily slapped his thigh.
"Well, I'm very sorry, sir; but yes, I do. The brig's lying careened
right over, just as she was when we started on our trip."
"But look here, Morny," cried the doctor; "that may mean nothing more
than that she is not finished yet. Remember, to those we left we are
missing, and in their anxiety about our lengthened stay they may have
started up-stream to find us."
"You are saying this to comfort me," cried Morny passionately. "No,
doctor; we have got to face the worst. It is not so."
It seemed cruelty to prolong the conversation, and soon after the order
was given to lower the sail and unstep the mast, for the wind had pretty
well dropped as they swept in towards where the vessels were anchored,
and the distance being short, the men took to their oars once more,
while, with no impediment to their view, the doctor took out his glass
and offered it to Morny. But the lad made a quick gesture, and sat back
looking straight before him, while the doctor used the glass himself,
gazing with it first at the brig, about whose hull no one was visible,
while all seemed still on board the three schooners.
"Take a look, Rodney," said the doctor aloud, as he handed the glass.
"I can see nothing wrong."