Trevannion forbore further opposition. No one knew exactly what his
purpose was, though his attitude and actions led all to believe that he
meant to attack the jacare. With his knife? No. He had negatived this
question himself. How then? There appeared to be no other weapon
within reach. But there was, and his companions soon saw there was, as
they sat silently watching his movements. The knife was only used as
the means of procuring that weapon, which soon made its appearance in
the form of a _macana_, or club, cut from one of the llianas,--a
_bauhinia_ of heaviest wood, shaped something after the fashion of a
"life-preserver," with a heavy knob of the creeper forming its head, and
a shank about two feet long, tapering towards the handle. Armed with
this weapon, and restoring the knife to his _tango_, the Indian came
down and glided out along the horizontal limb already known to our
story. To attract the reptile thither was not difficult. His presence
would have been a sufficient lure, but some broken twigs cast upon the
water served to hasten its approach to the spot. In confidence the
jacare came on, believing that by some imprudence, or misadventure, at
least one of those it had marked for its victims was about to drop into
its hungry maw. One did drop,--not into its maw, or its jaws, but upon
its back, close up to the swell of its shoulders. Looking down from the
tree, his companions saw the Mundurucu astride upon the alligator, with
one hand, the left, apparently inserted into the hollow socket of the
reptile's eye, the other raised aloft, grasping the _macana_, that
threatened to descend upon the skull of the jacare. It _did_ descend,--
crack!--crash!--crackle! After that there was not much to record. The
Mundurucu was compelled to slide off his seat. The huge saurian, with
its fractured skull, yielded to a simple physical law, turned over,
showing its belly of yellowish white,--an aspect not a whit more lovely
than that presented in its dark dorsal posterior. If not dead, there
could be no doubt that the jacare was no longer dangerous; and as its
conqueror returned to the tree, he was received with a storm of
"_Vivas_" to which Tipperary Tom added his enthusiastic Irish
"Hoor-raa!"
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.
TAKING TO THE WATER.
The Mundurucu merited congratulation, and his companions could not
restrain their admiration and wonder. They knew that the alligator was
only assailable by ordinary weapons--as gun, spear, or harpoon--in three
places; in the throat, unprotected, except by a thin, soft integument;
in the hollow in front of the shoulders, and immediately behind the bony
socket of the eyes; and in the eyes themselves,--the latter being the
most vulnerable of all. Why had the Indian, armed with a knife, not
chosen one of these three places to inflict a mortal cut or stab?
"Patron," said the Indian, as soon as he had recovered his breath, "you
wonder why the Mundurucu took all that trouble for a _macana_, while he
might have killed the jacare without it. True, the knife was weapon
enough. _Pa terra_! Yes. But it would not cause instant death. The
rascal could dive with both eyes scooped out of their sockets, and live
for hours afterwards. Ay, it could have carried me twenty miles through
the Gapo, half the distance under water. Where would old Munday have
been then? Drowned and dead, long before the jacare itself. Ah,
patron, a good knock on the hollow of its head is the best way to settle
scores with a jacare."
And as if all scores had been now settled with this fellow, the huge
saurian, to all appearance dead, passed unheeded out of sight, the
current of the Gapo drifting it slowly away. They did not wait for its
total disappearance, and while its hideous body, turned belly upward,
with its human-like hands stiffly thrust above the surface, was yet in
sight, they resumed their preparations for vacating a tenement of which
all were heartily tired, with that hopeful expectancy which springs from
a knowledge that the future cannot be worse than the present. Richard
had reported many curious trees, some bearing fruits that appeared to be
eatable, strung with llianas, here and there forming a network that made
it easy to find comfort among their branches. If there had been nothing
else to cheer them, the prospect of escaping from their irksome
attitudes was of itself sufficient; and influenced by this, they eagerly
prepared for departure.
As almost everything had been already arranged for ferrying the party,
very little remained to be done. From the hermetically closed
monkey-cups the Mundurucu had manufactured five swimming-belts,--this
number being all that was necessary, for he and the young Paraense could
swim ten times the distance without any adventitious aid. The others
had their share of empty shells meted out according to their weight and
need of help. Rosa's transport required particular attention. The
others could make way themselves, but Rosa was to be carried across
under the safe conduct of the Indian.
So when every contingency had been provided for, one after another
slipped down from the fork, and quietly departed from a tree that,
however uncomfortable as a residence, had yet provided them with a
refuge in the hour of danger.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.
A HALF-CHOKED SWIMMER.
Munday led off, towing little Rosa after him by a sipo, one end fastened
to his girdle, and the other around her waist. Trevannion followed
close behind, Ralph a little farther off, with Richard keeping abreast
of his cousin and helping him along. Mozey swam next; Tipperary Tom,
who was last to leave the tree, brought up the rear. The ouistiti had
found a berth on the shoulders of young Ralph, who, buoyed up by a good
supply of air-vessels, swam with his back above water. As for the macaw
and coaita, the desperate circumstances in which our adventurers were
placed rendered it not only inconvenient, but out of the question, to
trouble themselves with such pets; and it had been agreed that they must
be abandoned. Both, therefore, were left upon the tree. With the macaw
it was a matter of choice whether it should stay there. By simply
spreading out its great hyacinthine wings it could keep pace with its
_ci-devant_ protectors; and they had hardly left the tree, when the
bird, giving a loud scream, sprang from its perch, hovered a moment in
the air, and then, flying down, alighted on Mozey's wool-covered
cranium, making him hide his astonished head quickly under water. The
arara, affrighted at having wetted its feet, instantly essayed to soar
up again; but its curving talons, that had clutched too eagerly in the
descent, had become fixed, and all its attempts to detach them were in
vain. The more it struggled, the tighter became the tangle; while its
screams, united with the cries of the negro, pealed over the water,
awaking far echoes in the forest. It was sometime before Mozey
succeeded in untwisting the snarl that the arara had spun around its
legs, and not until he had sacrificed several of his curls was the bird
free to trust once more to its wings.
We have said, that by some mystic influence the big monkey had become
attached to Tipperary Tom, and the attachment was mutual. Tom had not
taken his departure from the tree without casting more than one look of
regret back among the branches, and under any other circumstances he
would not have left the coaita behind him. It was only in obedience to
the inexorable law of self-preservation that he had consented to the
sacrifice. The monkey had shown equal reluctance at parting, in looks,
cries, and gestures. It had followed its friend down to the fork, and
after he had slipped into the water it appeared as if it would follow
him, regardless of both instinct and experience, for it could not swim.
These, however, proved strong enough to restrain its imprudence, and
after its protector had gone it stood trembling and chattering in
accents that proclaimed the agony of that unexpected separation. Any
one listening attentively to its cries might have detected in the
piteous tones the slightest commingling of reproach. How could it be
otherwise to be thus deserted? Left to perish, in fact; for although
the coaita was perfectly at home upon the sapucaya, and could live there
as long as the nuts lasted, there was not the slightest chance of its
getting away from the tree. It must stay there till the _vasante_, till
the flood fell, and that would not be for months. Long before that it
must undoubtedly perish, either by drowning or starvation.
Whether or not these unpleasant forebodings passed through the monkey's
wits, and whether they nerved it, may never be known. Certainly
something seemed to stimulate the creature to determination; for instead
of standing any longer shivering in the fork of the tree, it turned
suddenly, and, darting up the trunk, ran out upon one of the horizontal
branches. To go directly from the sapucaya to the forest, it was
necessary to pass under this limb; and Tipperary Tom, following in the
wake of the others, had taken this track. He was already far out from
the stem of the tree, almost clear of the overhanging branches, and half
oblivions of the painful parting, when a heavy body, pouncing upon his
shoulders, caused both him and his empty shells to sink some feet under
the water; for just like old Munday on the alligator had the monkey come
down upon Tipperary Tom. The affrighted Irishman, on rising to the
surface, sputtered forth a series of cries, at the same time
endeavouring to rid himself of the unexpected rider on his back. It was
just at this crisis, too, that the macaw had managed to make good its
footing in the fleece of the negro. Mozey, however, was the first to
get clear of his incubus; and then all eyes were directed towards
Tipperary Tom and the clinging coaita, while peals of laughter resounded
from every lip.
Mozey had enfranchised himself by sacrificing a few tufts of his woolly
hair, but the task was not so easy for Tom. In fact, it proved
altogether impracticable; for the coaita had curled its prehensile tail
around his neck in a knot that would have made a hangman envious. The
more he tugged at it, the more it tightened; and had the Irishman been
left to himself, it would have no doubt ended in his being strangled
outright, a fate he began to dread. At this crisis he heard the
Mundurucu shout to him across the water to leave the coaita alone, as
then it would relax its hold. Fortunately for himself, Tom had the
prudence to obey this well-timed counsel; and although still half
suffocated by the too cordial embrace of his pet, he permitted it to
have its own way, until, having approached the forest, the monkey
relaxed its hold, and sprang up among the branches.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.
A SUPPER OF BROILED SQUAB.
Guided by the Mundurucu, the swimmers entered the water arcade before
described, and proceeded on to the tree that had furnished the
caoutchouc for their swimming-belts. The siphonia, so late the scene of
strife and querulous complainings, was now silent as the tomb; not a
living arara was in sight or within hearing. The few old birds that had
survived the club conflict had forsaken the spot, betaking themselves to
some distant part of the forest, perhaps out of the Gapo altogether, to
mourn over nests laid desolate, over chicks seized and instantly
destroyed by ruthless hands. Only the young were there, suspended in a
bunch from the branches. The Mundurucu mounted first, taking his charge
along with him; and then all the others climbed up into the tree, where
the macaw and the monkey--one upon wing, the other by a passage through
the tree-tops in speed almost equalling the flight of a bird--had
already arrived.
Farther progress for that night was no part of their purpose. It would
have been as idle as imprudent. The sun was already level with their
gaze, and to have forsaken their perch at that hour would have been like
leaving a good inn for the doubtful chances of the road. The seringa,
with its thickly trellised limbs, offered snug quarters. Upon its
network of parasites it was possible to repose; there were hammocks
woven by the hand of Nature, and, rude as they might be, they were a
pleasant improvement on their couches of the preceding night.
The tree contained other proofs of its hospitality. The fat fledglings
suspended upon it promised a supper not to be despised; for none of the
party was a stranger to macaw flesh, and, as those were young and
tender, eyes sparkled and mouths watered on beholding them. No one
expected that they were to be eaten raw, though there was more than one
in the party whose appetite had become sharp enough for this. The
Mundurucu would have shown but slight squeamishness at swallowing one of
the squabs as it was, while to Mozey it would have signified less. Even
Tipperary Tom declared his readiness to set about supping without
further preparation.
The semi-cannibal appetites of his companions were controlled by
Trevannion, who commenced talking of a fire. How was it to be made?
How could the chicks be cooked? His questions did not remain long
unanswered. The Indian, eager to meet the wishes of his employer,
promised that they should be gratified.
"Wait a bit, patron," said he. "In ten minutes' time you shall have
what you want, a fire; in twenty, roast arara."
"But how?" asked the patron. "We have no flint nor steel, any of us;
and if we had, where find the tinder?"
"Yonder!" rejoined the Mundurucu. "You see yonder tree on the other
side of the igarape?"
"That standing out by itself, with smooth, shining bark, and hoary,
handlike leaves? Yes, I see it. What of it?"
"It is the _embauba_, patron; the tree that feeds the lazy sloth, the
_Ai_."
"O, then it is that known as the _Cecropia peltata_. True, its crown of
peltate leaves declares the species. But we were talking of fire,
Munday. Can you obtain it from the cecropia?"
"In ten minutes, patron, the Mundurucu will draw sparks from that tree,
and make a fire too, if he can only obtain from it a dry branch, one
without sap, decayed, dead. You shall see."
So saying, he swam out towards the cecropia. On reaching this, he
scaled it like a squirrel, and was soon among its silvery fronds, that
spread palm-like over the water. Soon the snapping of a breaking branch
was heard, and shortly after the Indian came gliding down the tree, and,
holding the piece of cecropia above his head, swam with one hand towards
the caoutchouc, which he once more ascended. On rejoining his
companions, they saw that the stick he had secured was a bit of dry,
dead wood, light, and of porous texture, just such as might be easily
ignited. Not caring to make any secret of his design, he confirmed his
companions in their conjecture by informing them that the embauba was
the wood always employed by his people, as well as the other tribes in
Amazonia, when they wished to make a fire; and saying this, he proceeded
without further delay to make them acquainted with the proper way.
Strange to say, it proved to be the friction process, often described as
practised in remote corners of the world, and by savage tribes who could
never have held the slightest communication with one another. Who
taught them this curious mode of creating fire? Who inducted the Indian
of the Amazon, and the aboriginal of Borneo, into the identical ideas of
the _sumpitan_ and _gradatana_,--both blow-guns alike? Who first
instructed mankind in the use of the bow? Was it instinct? Was it
wisdom from on high?
While Trevannion was reflecting on this strange theme, the Mundurucu had
shaped a long spindle from a slender branch which he had cut from some
hard wood growing near; and, whirling it between the palms of his hands,
in less than ten minutes, as he had promised, sparks appeared in the
hollowed stick of the cecropia. Dry leaves, twigs, and bark had been
already collected, and with these a flame was produced, ending in a
fire, that soon burned brightly in one of the forks of the seringa.
Over this the young macaws, supported on spits, were soon done brown;
and a supper of roast arara, with parched sapucaya nuts, proved anything
but a despicable meal to the party who partook of it.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
ONCE MORE IN THE WATER.
Our adventurers passed a tolerable night among the sipos of the seringa.
They might have slept more soundly but for apprehensions about the
future that intruded even into their dreams. Morning brought no relief,
for then reality itself appeared ruder than the visions of fancy in
their slumbers. They had cold macaw for breakfast,--remains of the
preceding night's roast, which had been kept up as long as the fire was
alight, and carefully preserved, to serve for a future occasion. It was
just sunrise, and as soon as the meal was over, they consulted seriously
how to extricate themselves from their unpleasant and perilous
position,--how to work a deliverance from the jaws of the Gapo.
Whereabouts in this strange region were they? How far had they entered
it? They could not even frame a guess of the distance traversed by the
galatea before she had come to grief in the fork of the sapucaya. It
might be twenty miles, it might be fifty; who could tell? They only
knew that the ill-fated vessel had been drifting away from the Solimoes,
and deep into the solitudes of the Gapo. They knew they must be many
miles from the banks of the Solimoes, and, from his hydrographic
knowledge, already tested, the old tapuyo could tell its direction. But
it was no longer a question of getting back to the channel of the great
river. On the contrary, the object now was to reach solid land. It
would be worse than idle to seek the Solimoes without the means of
navigating it; for, even should the stream be reached, it would be one
chance in a thousand to get within hail of a passing vessel. Almost as
well might such be looked for in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. They
were now bent on discovering the shortest route to the mainland that
bordered this inundated region. This should be found in the direction
opposite to that in which the river lay. It might not, but the
probabilities were in favour of that hypothesis. They had but little
difficulty in determining the way to take. The index already pointed
out by the Indian was still to be depended upon.
The _echente_ was still going on. The current was from the river, if
not with absolute directness, yet with enough to point out the bearing
of the Solimoes. The land might be many miles distant,--farther than
the river itself,--but there was no alternative but to reach it or die.
But how reach it? That was the question. They could hardly hope to
swim the whole distance, for it must be great. A raft? This too was
talked of. But how was a raft to be constructed? Among the tops of
those water-loving trees there could scarce be found a stick light
enough to have floated itself, let alone the carrying of a ponderous
cargo. Out of such heavy timber there would be but little chance of
their constructing a raft, and the idea was abandoned almost as soon as
broached. But Munday's proposal met the approbation of all. The water
arcade chanced to continue in the direction they should take. Why not
once more make use of the swimming-belts, that had already done such
good service, and effect a further exploration of the flooded forest?
The proposition was too reasonable to be rejected. It was unanimously
accepted; and, without more ado, our adventurers descended from the
siphonia, and began to traverse the strait. The macaw and monkey kept
their company as before, but no longer needed to make themselves a
burden to their protectors, since both could travel through the
tree-tops as the swimmers passed below.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.
THE IGARAPE.
They needed no pilot to point out their course. There could be no
danger of straying from it. The strait they were following was of that
kind known as an igarape, which, in the language of the Amazonian
Indian, means literally "the path of the canoe,"--_igarite_ being the
name of the craft most used in the navigation of the Gapo. The strait
itself might have been likened to a canal, running through a thicket,
which formed on both sides a colossal hedge, laced together by an
impenetrable network of parasitical plants. Unlike a canal, however, it
was not of uniform breadth, here and there widening into little openings
that resembled lakes, and again narrowing until the tree-tops stretching
from each side touched one another, forming underneath a cool, shadowy
arcade.
Up this singular waterway our adventurers advanced, under the guidance
of the bordering line of verdure. Their progress was necessarily slow,
as the two who could swim well were compelled to assist the others; but
all were aided by a circumstance that chanced to be in their favour,--
the current of the Gapo, which was going in the same direction with
themselves. Herein they were greatly favoured, for the flow of the
flood corresponded very nearly with the course of the igarape; and, as
they advanced, they might have fancied themselves drifting down the
channel of some gently flowing stream. The current, however, was just
perceptible; and though it carried them along, it could not be counted
on for any great speed. With it and their own exertions they were
enabled to make about a mile an hour; and although this rate might seem
intolerably slow, they were not discontented, since they believed
themselves to be going in the right direction. Had they been castaways
in mid-ocean, the case would have been different. Such tardy travelling
would have been hopeless; but it was otherwise in the forest sea that
surrounded them. On one side or the other they could not be more than
fifty miles from real dry land, and perhaps much less. By going right,
they might reasonably hope to reach it, though detained upon the way.
It was of the utmost importance, however, that the direction should be
known and followed. A route transverse to it might take them a thousand
miles, either way, through a flooded forest,--westward almost to the
foot of the Andes,--eastward to the mouth of the Amazon! The
experienced tapuyo, knowing all this, was extremely cautious in choosing
the course they were now pursuing. He did not exactly keep in the line
indicated by the flow of the flood. Although the _echente_ was still
going on, he knew that its current could not be at right angles to that
of the river, but rather obliqued to it; and in swimming onward he made
allowance for this oblique, the igarape fortunately trending at a
similar inclination.
Several hours were spent in slowly wending along their watery way, the
swimmers occasionally taking a rest, stretched along the surface of the
water, supported by hanging llianas or the drooping branches of the
trees. At noon, however, a longer halt was proposed by the guide, to
which his followers gladly gave consent. All were influenced by a
double desire,--to refresh themselves not only by a good rest, but by
making a meal on the cold roast macaws, several of which were strapped
upon the shoulders of the tapuyo. A tree with broad, spreading branches
offered a convenient place, and, climbing into it, they took their seats
to await the distribution of the dinner, which was committed to the care
of the ex-steward, Mozey.
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.
ABOUT HUMMING-BIRDS.