sickness as well as men,--appeared doubtful of her ability to accomplish
the leap; and, after all the others had crossed, she stood upon the
branch evidently only half determined about following them. At this
crisis occurred a curious incident,--the first of a series. One of
those that had crossed, a man-monkey, was seen to separate from the
crowd, that had by this time ascended to the top of the tree. Returning
along the limb to which they had just leaped, he placed himself opposite
to the hesitating female and began to chatter, intending to encourage
her, as his gestures showed. The mother of the infant made reply; but
although the sounds were unintelligible to the human spectators, they
might be translated as saying, "It's not a bit of use, my trying; I
shall only get a ducking for my pains, and the infant too. It may be
drowned."
Her reply was delivered in a tone of appeal; and, as if affected by it,
the male monkey--evidently the father of the child--made no more
remonstrance, but bounded back across the open water. It was but the
work of six seconds for him to transfer the juvenile to his own
shoulders; and in as many more both he and it were on the right side of
the igarape. Relieved of her charge and encouraged by the cries of
those already across, the mother sprang out from the branch. The effort
was too great for her strength. With her forefinger she caught the
twigs on the opposite side and succeeded in clutching them; but before
she could lap the branch with her tail,--a more trustworthy means of
prehension,--she had sunk below its level, and, the twigs giving way,
she plunged into the water.
A universal scream came from the top of the tree, and a score or more of
guaribas leaped down upon the limb from which the unfortunate had
fallen. There was a scene of confusion,--just as there would have been
had the catastrophe happened among human beings,--as when a boat upsets
or some one breaks through the ice, and spectators stand speechless, or
hurry to and fro, no one knowing exactly what to do,--what order to
give, or whom to obey.
Very like was the scene of surprise, terror, and lamentation among the
monkeys,--except that it did not last quite so long. In this respect
animal instinct, as it is called, has the advantage of bewildered
reason; and, while a crowd upon the sea-beach or the river-bank would
have spent ten minutes before taking action to rescue the drowning
individual, scarcely so many seconds were allowed to elapse before the
guaribas had picked up and safely deposited her trembling person on the
fork of a tree.
The mode in which this had been accomplished was something to astonish
the spectators, and yet it was performed in a very efficient manner. As
soon as the screaming would permit, the voice of the guariba chieftain
was heard, in a chattering so loud and serious in tone as to indicate
command; and some half-score of the number, in obedience, glided out on
the limb of the tree under which the female was in imminent danger of
being drowned. A bucket could not have descended into a well, or a
pulley-tackle come down from warehouse or mill, more promptly and
speedily than did that string of monkeys, hooked neck and tail to one
another, like the links of a long chain,--the lowest upon the swinging
series being the husband of the half-drowned mother, who had hastily
deposited his baby in one of the forkings of the tree. Neither could
the water-bucket have been filled, nor the wheat-sack hooked on, with
half the speed and agility with which she was picked up and restored.
Once more shouldering her "chickabiddy," she took her place in the
troop, which, without further delay, moved on amid the tree-tops,
keeping in a direct line of march, as if bent upon a journey that was to
terminate at some spot already known to them. For a long time their
track could be traced by their continuous howling, which then was heard
only at intervals, and at length receded to such a distance as to become
inaudible.
CHAPTER FORTY TWO.
THE MUNDURUCU DISCOURSES OF MONKEYS.
The sun was just setting as the guaribas disappeared; and from this
circumstance it was conjectured that they were on their return to some
favourite resting-place. Trevannion supposed that they might be on
their way to dry land; and, if so, the route they had taken might serve
himself and party for a direction. He mentioned this to the Mundurucu,
who shook his head, not doubtfully, but as a simple negative.
"You think it would be of no use our taking the direction in which they
have gone?" said the miner interrogatively.
"No, patron; not a bit of good in that. They are as like to be going
from _terra firma_ as towards it. It's all the same to them whether
they sleep over land, or water, so long as they have the trees to cling
to. They are now trooping to some roost they have a fancy for,--perhaps
some very big tree,--which they use at all times for their
night-rendezvous, and where others of the same tribe will be likely to
meet them. These have been off to some favourite feeding-ground, where
the fruit may be more plenty than in the neighbourhood of their regular
dwelling-place; or they may have been upon some ramble for amusement."
"What! do monkeys make such excursions?" inquired young Ralph.
"O yes," replied the Mundurucu. "I've often met them trooping about
among the trees, where nuts and fruits were in plenty; and have watched
them, for hours at a time, without seeing them pluck a single one;--only
chattering and screeching and laughing and playing tricks upon each
other, as if they had nothing else to do. Neither have they when
certain sorts of fruit are ripe, especially soft fruits, such as berries
and the pulpy nuts of several kinds of palms, as the _pupunha_ and
_assai_. It is a little different at other seasons, when they have to
live on the Brazil-nuts and sapucayas; then they have something to do to
get at the kernels inside the thick shells, and at this they employ a
good deal of their time."
"Do they sleep perched on the trees, or have they nests among the
branches in which they can lie down at their ease?"
"They have nests, but not for that. The females only use them when
about to bring forth their young. As to sleeping at their ease, they
can do that on the very slenderest of branches. It's no hardship to
them, as it is to us. Not a bit."
"But do they not sometimes fall off in their sleep?"
"How could they do that, young master, when they have their tails to
hold on by? Before going to sleep they take a turn or two of their long
tail round a branch, not always the one their body is on, but more
commonly a branch a little above it. For that matter they don't need
any branch to rest upon. They can go to sleep, and often do, hanging by
the tail,--for that is the position in which they are most at ease; just
as you would be reclining in a hammock. I've seen them scores of times
asleep that way. To prove that they feel most at home when hanging by
the tail, they take to it whenever any alarm comes suddenly upon them;
and they want to be in readiness for retreat, in case of its proving to
be an enemy."
"What singular creatures!" said Ralph, half in soliloquy.
"You speak truth, young master. They have many an odd way, that would
lead one to believe that they had as much sense as some kinds of men.
You have seen how they picked up the old one that fell into the water;
but I've seen them do a still stranger thing than that. It is but the
commonest of their contrivances, put in practice every time they want to
pluck a nut, or some fruit that grows near the end of a branch too
slender to carry their weight. If there's a stronger limb above, they
go out upon it; and then, clinging together as you saw them do, they let
themselves down till the last in the string can lay hold of the fruit.
Sometimes there is no branch right over the spot; but that don't hinder
them from getting what they have coveted, if they can find a stout limb
anyways near. Then they make their string all the same; and, by setting
it in motion, they swing back and forward, until the lowest of the party
is tossed out within reach of the fruit. I've seen them try this, and
find that their string was just a few inches too short, when another
monkey would glide down upon the others, and add his length to complete
it. Then I've seen them make a bridge, young master."
"Make a bridge! Are you in earnest? How could they?"
"Well, just in the same way as they get within reach of the nuts."
"But for what purpose?"
"To get across some bit of water, as a fast-running stream, where they
would be drowned if they fell in."
"But how do they accomplish it? To make a bridge requires a skilled
engineer among men; are there such among monkeys?"
"Well, young master, I won't call it such skill; but it's very like it.
When on their grand journeyings they come to a stream, or even an
igarape like this, and find they can't leap from the trees on one side
to those growing on the other, it is then necessary for them to make the
bridge. They go up or down the bank till they find two tall trees
opposite each other. They climb to a high branch on the one, and then,
linking together, as you've seen them, they set their string in motion,
and swing backward and forward, till one at the end can clutch a branch
of the tree, on the opposite side. This done the bridge is made, and
all the troop, the old ones that are too stiff to take a great leap, and
the young ones that are too weak, run across upon the bodies of their
stouter comrades. When all have passed over, the monkey at the other
end of the string lets go his hold upon the branch; and if he should be
flung into water it don't endanger him, as he instantly climbs up the
bodies of those above him, the next doing the same, and the next also,
until all have got safe into the trees."
"Be japers," exclaimed Tipperary Tom, "it's wonderful how the craythers
can do it! But, Misther Munday, have yez iver seen them fall from a
tree-top?"
"No, never, but I've known one to leap from the top of a tree full a
hundred feet in height."
"Shure it was kilt dead then?"
"If it was it acted very oddly for a dead animal, as it had scarce
touched the ground when it sprang back up another tree of equal height,
and scampered to the top branches nearly as quick as it came down."
"Ah!" sighed Trevannion, "if we had only the activity of these
creatures, how soon we might escape from this unfortunate dilemma. Who
knows what is before us? Let us pray before going to rest for the
night. Let us hope that He, in whose hands we are, may listen to our
supplications, and sooner or later relieve us from our misery." And so
saying, the ex-miner repeated a well-remembered prayer, in the response
to which not only the young people, but the Indian, the African, and the
Irishman fervently joined.
CHAPTER FORTY THREE.
TWO SLUMBERERS DUCKED.
It was somewhere among the mid-hours of the night, and all appeared to
be as sound asleep as if reclining upon couches of eider-down. Not a
voice was heard among the branches of the Brazil-nut,--not a sound of
any kind, if we except the snore that proceeded from the spread nostrils
of the negro, and that of a somewhat sharper tone from the nasal organ
of the Irishman. Sometimes they snored together, and for several
successive trumpetings this simultaneity would be kept up. Gradually,
however, one would get a little ahead, and then the two snorers would be
heard separately, as if the two sleepers were responding to each other
in a kind of dialogue carried on by their noses. All at once this nasal
duet was interrupted by a rustling among the boughs upon which rested
Tipperary Tom. The rustling was succeeded by a cry, quickly followed by
a plunge.
The cry and the plunge woke everybody upon the tree; and while several
inquired the cause of the disturbance, a second shout, and a second
plunge, instead of affording a clue to the cause of alarm, only rendered
the matter more mysterious. There was a second volley of
interrogatories, but among the inquiring voices two were missing,--those
of Mozey and the Irishman. Both, however, could now be heard below; not
very articulate, but as if their owners were choking. At the same time
there was a plashing and a plunging under the tree, as if the two were
engaged in a struggle for life.
"What is it? Is it you, Tom? Is it you, Mozey?" were the questions
that came thick and fast from those still upon the tree.
"Och! ach!--I'm chokin'!--I'm--ach--drown--ach--drownin'!--Help! help!"
cried a voice, distinguishable as the Irishman's, while Mozey's was
exerted in a similar declaration.
All knew that Tom could not swim a stroke. With the Mozambique it was
different. He might sustain himself above water long enough to render
his rescue certain. With Tom no time was to be lost, if he was to be
saved from a watery grave; and, almost with his cry for help, Richard
Trevannion and the Mundurucu plunged in after him.
For a time, Trevannion himself and his two children could hear,
underneath them, only a confused medley of sounds,--the splashing of
water mingled with human voices, some speaking, or rather shouting, in
accents of terror, others in encouragement. The night was dark; but had
it been ever so clear, even had the full moon been shining above, her
beams could not have penetrated through the spreading branches of the
Brazil-nut, melted and lined as they were with thorns and leafy llianas.
It would seem an easy task for two such swimmers as the Indian and
Paraense to rescue Tipperary Tom from his peril. But it was not quite
so easy. They had got hold of him, one on each side, as soon as the
darkness allowed them to discern him. But this was not till they had
groped for some time; and then he was found in such a state of
exhaustion that it required all the strength of both to keep his chin
above the surface.
Mozey was fast becoming as helpless as Tom, being more than half
paralysed by the fright he had got from being precipitated into the
water while still sound asleep. Such a singular awaking was sufficient
to have confused a cranium of higher intellectual development than that
of the Mozambique.
After having discovered their half-drowned companions, neither Richard
nor the Mundurucu knew exactly what to do with them. Their first
thought was to drag them towards the trunk of the tree, under which they
had been immersed. This they succeeded in doing; but once alongside the
stem, they found themselves in no better position for getting out of the
water. There was not a branch within reach by which to raise
themselves, and the bark was as smooth as glass, and slippery with
slime.
When first ascending into the great tree, they had made use of some
hanging parasite, which now in the darkness they were unable to find.
Even the two swimmers began to despond. If not their own lives, those
of their comrades might be lost in that gloomy aisle, whose pavement was
the subtle, deceitful flood. At this crisis an idea occurred to the
young Paraense that promised to rescue them from their perilous
position, and he called out, "The swimming-belts! fling down the
swimming-belts!" His uncle and cousin, by this time having a clearer
comprehension of what had occurred, at once obeyed the command. Richard
and the Indian were not slow to avail themselves of this timely
assistance; and in a trice the two half-drowned men were buoyed up
beyond further danger.
On getting back into the Bertholletia, there was a general explanation.
Tipperary Tom was the cause of the awkward incident. Having gone to
sleep without taking proper precautions, his limbs, relaxed by slumber,
had lost their prehensile power, and, sliding through the llianas, he
had fallen plump into the water below, a distance of more than a dozen
feet. His cries, and the consequent plunge, had startled the negro so
abruptly that he too had lost his equilibrium, and had soused down the
instant after.
The Mundurucu was by no means satisfied with the occurrence. It had not
only interrupted his repose, but given him a wet shirt in which to
continue it. He was determined, however, that a similar incident should
not, for that night, occur,--at least not with the same individuals,--
and before returning to his roost he bound both of them to theirs with
_sipos_ strong enough to resist any start that might be caused by the
most terrible of dreams.
CHAPTER FORTY FOUR.
OPEN WATER.
The next day was spent in explorations. These did not extend more than
four hundred yards from their sleeping-place; but, short as was the
distance, it cost more trouble to traverse it than if it had been twenty
miles on land, across an open country.
It was a thicket through which the explorers had to pass, but such a
thicket as one acquainted only with the ordinary woods of Northern
countries can have no conception of. It was a matted tangle of trees
and parasitical plants, many of the latter--such as the climbing
jacitara palms, the huge cane-briers, and bromelias--thickly set with
sharp spines, that rendered it dangerous to come in contact with them.
Even had there been firm footing, it would have been no easy task to
make way through such a network; but, considering that it was necessary
to traverse the wood by passing from tree to tree, all the time keeping
in their tops, it will not be wondered at that a few hundred yards of
such progress was accounted a day's journey.
You must not suppose that all the party of our adventurers went even
thus far. In fact, all of them remained in the Brazil-nut, except the
two who had acted as explorers on the former occasion,--Richard and the
Mundurucu. It would have been worse than idle for any other to have
accompanied them.
It was near sunset when they returned with their report, which to
Trevannion and his party seemed anything but encouraging. The explorers
had penetrated through the forest, finding it flooded in every
direction. Not an inch of dry land had they discovered; and the Indian
knew, from certain signs well understood by him, that none was near.
The rapid drift of the current, which he had observed several times
during the day, was one of these indications. It could not, he
declared, be running in that way, if dry land were in the vicinity. So
far, therefore, as reaching the shore was concerned, they might make up
their minds for a long journey; and how this was to be performed was the
question of the hour.
One point the explorers had definitely determined. The igarape
terminated at their sleeping-place. There was no sign of it beyond.
Instead, however, they had come upon an opening of a very different
character. A vast expanse of water, without any trees, had been found,
its nearest edge being the limit of their day's excursion. This open
water did not extend quite to the horizon. Around it, on all sides,
trees could be seen, or rather the tops of trees; for it was evident
that the thicket-like bordering was but the "lop and top" of a submerged
forest. On returning to the "roost," Munday urged their going towards
the open water.
"For what purpose?" inquired the patron, who failed to perceive any good
reason for it. "We can't cross it, there being no sort of craft to
carry us. We cannot make a raft out of these green branches, full of
sap as they are. What's the use of our going that way? You say there's
open water almost as far as you can see,--so much the worse, I should
think."
"No, patron," replied the Indian, still addressing Trevannion as
respectfully as when acting as his hired _tapuyo_. "So much the better,
if you give me leave to differ with you. Our only hope is to find open
water."
"Why, we have been all along coming from it. Isn't there plenty of it
behind us?"
"True, patron; but it's not running in the right direction. If we
launched upon it, the current would be against us. Remember, master,
'tis the _echente_. We couldn't go that way. If we could, it would
only bring us back to the river-channel, where, without some sort of a
vessel, we should soon go to the bottom. Now the open Gapo we've seen
to-day is landward, though the land may be a good way off. Still, by
crossing it, we shall be getting nearer to firm ground, and that's
something."
"By crossing it? But how?"
"We must swim across it."
"Why, you've just said that it stretches almost to the edge of the
horizon. It must be ten miles or more. Do you mean to say we can swim
so far?"
"What's to hinder us, master? You have, the monkey-pots; they will keep
you above water. If not enough for all, we can get more. Plenty of the
sapucaya-trees here."
"But what would be the object of our crossing this expanse of water?
You say there is no dry land on the other side; in that case, we'll be
no better off than here."
"There is land on the other side, though I think not near. But we must
keep on towards it, else we shall never escape from the Gapo. If we
stay here, we must starve, or suffer greatly. We might search the
forest for months, and not find another nesting-place of the araras, or
good food of any kind. Take my advice, patron. Soon as comes the light
of to-morrow, let us cross to the open water. Then you can see for
yourself what is best for us to do."
As the perilous circumstances in which they were placed had altogether
changed the relationship between Trevannion and his _tapuyo_, the latter
being now the real "patron," of course the ex-miner willingly gave way
to him in everything; and on the morning of the next day the party of
adventurers forsook the Brazil-nut, and proceeded towards the open Gapo.
CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.
THE JACANAS.
It will be asked how they proceeded. To swim to the open water would
have been next to impossible, even with the assistance of the floats.
Not only would the thick tree-trunks and drooping llianas have hindered
them from making way in any direction; but there would have been nothing
to guide them through the shadowy water, and they must soon lose
themselves in a labyrinth of gloom. No sign of the sky could have
availed them in the deep darkness below; and there were no landmarks to
which to trust. The answer is, that they made their way along much as
did the monkeys which had passed them the day before, only that their
pace was a hundred times slower, and their exertions a thousand times
more laborious. In fact, they travelled among the tree-tops, and
followed the same track which their explorers had already taken, and
which Munday, on his return, had taken the precaution to "blaze" by
breaking a number of twigs and branches.
Their progress was of the slowest kind,--slower than the crawl of a
cripple; but by dint of perseverance, and the performance of many feats
in climbing and clinging and balancing, and general gymnastics, they
succeeded at length in reaching the edge of the forest, and gaining a
view of the wide watery expanse. It was a relief to their eyes, so long
strained to no purpose amidst the shadowy foliage that had enveloped
them.
"Now, Munday," asked Trevannion, as soon as he had recovered breath,
after such laborious exertion, "we are here on the edge of the open
water. You talk of our being able to swim across it. Tell us how."
"Just as we swam the igarape."
"Impossible, as you've admitted it can't be less than ten miles to the
other side. The tree-tops yonder are scarce discernible."
"We came nearly as far along the canoe-path."
"True; but then we had a chance to rest every few minutes, and that gave
us strength to go on. It will be different if we attempt to cross this
great sea, where there is no resting-place of any kind. We should be a
whole day on the water, perhaps more."
"Perhaps so, patron. But remember, if we do not try to get out of the
Gapo, we may be three, four, five, or six months among these tree-tops.
We may get no food but a few nuts and fruits,--scarcely enough to keep
us alive. We may lose strength, and be no longer able to stay among the
branches; we may grow faint and fall, one by one, into the water, to go
down to the bottom of the Gapo or drop into the jaws of the jacares."
The alternative thus brought in terrible detail vividly before them
produced a strong impression; and Trevannion offered no objection to any
plan which the Mundurucu should propose. He only requested a fuller
account of the feasibility of that now suggested,--in other words, an
explanation as to how they were to swim a stretch of ten miles without
stopping to rest.
Munday made no mystery of the matter. He had no other plan than that
already tried with success,--the swimming-belts; only that two
additional sets would now be needed,--one for himself, the other for the
young Paraense. On the short passage from the sapucaya to the forest,
and along the canoe-path, these bold swimmers had disdained the use of
that apparatus; but in a pull of ten miles, even they must have recourse
to such aid.