arboreal journey required a long rest; and shortly after their arrival
upon the edge of the forest, they set about arranging for the night,
having chosen the best tree that could be found. Unfortunately, their
larder was lower than it had ever been, since the going down of the
galatea. Of the squab macaws there were no longer any left; and some
sapucaya nuts gathered by the way, and brought along by Munday, formed
the substance of their scanty supper.
As soon as it was eaten, the Mundurucu, assisted by Richard, busied
himself in manufacturing the required swimming-belts; and long before
the sun disappeared behind the forest spray, everything was ready for
their embarkation, which was to take place at the earliest moment of its
reappearance.
As usual, there was conversation,--partly to kill time, and partly to
keep off the shadows that surrounded, and ever threatened to reduce them
to despair. Trevannion took pains to keep it up, and make it as
cheerful as the circumstances would permit, his object being less to
satisfy himself than to provide gratification for his children. At
times he even attempted to jest; but generally the conversation turned
upon topics suggested by the scene, when the Indian, otherwise taciturn,
was expected to do the talking. The open water became the subject on
this particular occasion.
"It appears like a lake," remarked the ex-miner. "I can see a line of
trees or tree-tops all around it, with no signs of a break or channel."
"It is one," rejoined the _tapuyo_. "A real _lagoa_. Water in it at
all seasons,--both _echente_ and _vasante_,--only 'tis fallen now from
the flood. There are no _campos_ in this part of the country; and if it
wasn't a lagoa, there would be trees standing out of it. But I see a
surer sign,--the _piosocas_."
The speaker pointed to two dark objects at some distance off, that had
not hitherto been observed by any of the party. On more careful
scrutiny, they proved to be birds,--large, but of slender shape, and
bearing some resemblance to a brace of cranes or curlews. They were of
dark colour, rufous on the wings, with a green iridescence that
glistened brightly under the beams of the setting sun.
They were near enough to enable the spectators to distinguish several
peculiarities in their structure; among others a singular leathery
appendage at the base of the beak, stout, spinous processes or "spurs"
on the wing shoulders, very long, slender legs, and _tarsi_ of immense
length, radiating outward from their shank, like four pointed stare,
spread horizontally on the surface of the water.
What struck the spectators, not only with surprise, but appeared
unaccountable, was the fact that these birds seen upon the water were
not seated as if swimming or afloat; but standing erect upon their long
tarsi and toes, which apparently spread upon the surface, as if upon
ice!
Stranger still, while they were being watched, both were seen to forsake
their statue-like attitude, and move first toward each other, and then
apart again, running to and fro as if upon a solid fooling! What could
it all mean? Munday was asked for the explanation. Were they walking
upon the water?
No. There was a water plant under their feet--a big lily, with a leaf
several feet in diameter, that floated on the surface--sufficient to
carry the weight of the biggest bird. That was what was supporting the
piosocas.
On scanning the surface more carefully, they could distinguish the big
lily, and its leaf with a turned-up edge resembling the rim of a Chinese
gong, or a huge frying-pan. They became acquainted for the first time
with that gigantic lily, which has been entitled "the Royal Victoria,"
and the discoverer of which was knighted for his flattery.
"'Tis the _furno de piosoca_," said Munday, continuing his explanation.
"It is called so, because, as you see, it's like the oven on which we
bake our Cassava; and because it is the favourite roost of the piosoca."
By "piosoca" the Indian meant the singular _jacana_ of the family
_Palamedeidae_, of which there are species both in Africa and America.
The birds had fortunately made their appearance at a crisis when the
spectators required something to abstract their thoughts from the cares
that encompassed them, and so much were they engrossed by the curious
spectacle, that they did not perceive the _tapuyo_, as he let himself
gently down into the water, and swam off under the drooping branches of
the trees, pausing at a point opposite to where the piosocas were at
play.
From this point they could not have perceived him, as he had dived under
water, and did not come up again until the slender shanks of a jacana,
enveloped in the lily's soft leaf, were clutched by his sinewy fingers,
and the bird with a shrill scream was seen fluttering on the water,
while its terrified mate soared shrieking into the air.
The party in the tree-tops were at first amazed. They saw a dark, round
object close to the struggling jacana, that resembled the head of a
human being, whose body was under water! It was not till it had come
nearer, the bird still keeping it close company, that they identified
the head, with its copper-coloured face, now turned towards them, as
belonging to their guide and companion,--Munday. A fire was soon
blazing in the branches, and instead of going to sleep upon a supper of
raw sapucayas, our adventurers sought repose after a hearty meal made
upon roast jacana!
CHAPTER FORTY SIX.
A COMPANION LEFT BEHIND.
By daybreak they were once more in the water, each provided with a
complete set of swimming-shells. As the voyage was more extensive, and
altogether more perilous, the greatest pains was taken to have the
swimming apparatus as perfect as possible. Any flaw, such as a weak
place in the waist-belts or shoulder-straps, or the smallest crevice
that would admit water into one of the shells, might be followed by
serious consequences, perhaps even drowning. Besides making the new
belts, therefore, Munday had mended the old ones, giving all the shells
an additional coating of caoutchouc, and strengthening the sipos that
attached them to one another.
Just as the sun's disk was seen above the tree-tops that skirted the
_lagoa_ on the east, our adventurers embarked on their aquatic
expedition. But it could not be said that they started in high spirits.
They knew not what was to be the sequel of their singular undertaking.
Where their journey was to end, or whether its end might not be for some
of their number--if not all of them--the bottom of the Gapo.
Indeed, the Indian, to whom they all looked for encouragement as well as
guidance, was himself not very sanguine of success. He did not say so,
but for all that Trevannion, who had kept interrogating him at intervals
while they were preparing to start, had become impressed with this
belief. As the Mundurucu persisted in counselling the expedition, he
did not urge any further opposition, and under the auspices of a
glorious tropical sunrise they committed themselves to the open waters
of the lagoa.
At the very start there occurred a somewhat ominous accident. As the
coaita would have been a cumbersome companion for any of the swimmers to
carry, it was decided that the creature should be left behind.
Unpleasant as it was to part with a pet so long in the company of the
galatea's crew, there was no alternative but to abandon it.
Tipperary Tom, notwithstanding his attachment toward it, or rather its
attachment toward him, was but too willing to assent to the separation.
He had a vivid recollection of his former entanglement, and the risk he
had run of being either drowned in the Gapo, or strangled by the
coaita's tail; and with this remembrance still fresh before his fancy,
he had taken the precaution at this new start to steal silently off from
the trees, among the foremost of the swimmers. Everybody in fact had
got off, before the coaita was aware of their intention to abandon it,
and to such a distance that by no leap could it alight upon anybody's
shoulders. On perceiving that it was left behind, it set up a series of
cries, painfully plaintive, but loud enough to have been heard almost to
the limits of the lagoa.
A similar desertion of the macaw was evidently intended, to which no one
had given a thought, although it was Rosa's pet. The ouistiti had been
provided with a free passage upon the shoulders of the young Paraense.
But the huge parrot was not to be left behind in this free and easy
fashion. It was not so helpless as the coaita. It possessed a pair of
strong wings, which, when strongly and boldly spread, could carry it
clear across the lagoa. Conscious of this superior power, it did not
stay long upon the trees, to mingle its chattering with the screams of
the coaita. Before the swimmers had made a hundred strokes, the macaw
mounted into the air, flew for a while hoveringly above them, as if
selecting its perch, and then dropped upon the negro's head, burying its
claws in his tangled hair.
CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN.
THE GUIDE ABANDONED.
As the swimmers proceeded, their hopes grew brighter. They saw that
they were able to make good headway through the water; and in less than
an hour they were a full mile distant from their point of departure. At
this rate they should be on the other side of the lagoon before sunset,
if their strength would only hold out. The voyage promised to be
prosperous; and joy sat upon their countenances.
Shortly after there came a change. A cloud was seen stealing over the
brow of the Mundurucu, which was the cue for every other to exhibit a
similar shadowing. Trevannion kept scanning the countenance of the
tapuyo to ascertain the cause of his disquietude. He made no enquiry;
but he could tell by the behaviour of the Indian that there, was trouble
on his mind. At intervals he elevated his head above the water, and
looked back over his shoulder, as if seeking behind him for the cause of
his anxiety. As they swam on farther, Munday's countenance lost nothing
of its anxious cast, while his turnings and backward glances became more
frequent. Trevannion also looked back, though only to ascertain the
meaning of the tapuyo's manoeuvres. He could see nothing to account for
it,--nothing but the tree-tops from which they had parted, and these
every moment becoming less conspicuous. Though the patron did not
perceive it, this was just what was causing the tapuyo's apprehensive
looks. The sinking of the trees was the very thing that was producing
his despondency.
Stimulated less by curiosity than alarm, Trevannion could keep silent no
longer. "Why do you look back, Munday?" he inquired. "Is there any
danger in that direction? Have you a fear that we shall be followed? I
can see nothing except the tree-tops, and them scarcely at this moment."
"That's the danger. We shall soon lose sight of them altogether; and
then--"
"What then?"
"Then--I confess, patron, I am puzzled. I did not think of it before we
took to the water."
"O, I see what you mean. You've been hitherto guiding our course by the
trees from which we parted. When they are no longer in view we shall
have nothing to steer by?"
"It is true. The Great Spirit only can guide us then!" The Mundurucu
evidently felt more than chagrin that he had expressed himself so
confidently about their being able to cross the lagoon. He had only
taken into consideration the circumstance of their being able to swim,
without ever thinking of the chance of their losing the way. The trees
sinking gradually to the horizon first admonished him; and as he
continued to swim farther into the clear water, he became convinced that
such mischance was not only possible, but too probable. With a sort of
despairing effort he kept on with even more energy than before, as if
trying how far he could follow a straight line without depending on any
object to pilot him.
After proceeding thus for two or three hundred yards, he once more
raised his chin to his shoulder and looked back. The tree-tops were
barely visible; but he was satisfied on perceiving that the one from
which they had started rose up directly opposite to him, thus proving
that in his trial stretch he had gone in a straight line, inspiring him
with the hope of being able to continue it to the opposite side. With
renewed confidence he kept on, after uttering a few phrases of cheer to
the others.
Another stretch of about three hundred yards was passed through in
silence, and without any incident to interrupt the progress of the
swimmers. Then all came to a pause, seeing their conductor, as before,
suspend his stroke, and again make a rearward reconnoissance. This time
he did not appear so well satisfied, until he had raised his head high
over the surface, which he accomplished by standing erect, and beating
the water with his palms downward, when his confidence was again
refreshed, and he started forward once more.
At the next stopping-place, instead of raising himself once into the
standing poise, he did so several times in succession, each time sinking
down again with an exclamation of disappointment. He could not see the
trees, even at the utmost stretch of his neck. With a grunt that seemed
to signify his assent to the abandoning of their guidance, he again laid
himself along the water, and continued in the direction he had been
already following; but not before assuring himself that he was on the
right course, which fortunately he was still able to do by noting the
relative positions of the others.
At starting away from this, which he intended should be their last
stopping-place, he delivered a series of admonitions intended for every
swimmer. They were to keep their places, that is, their relative
positions to him and one another, as nearly as might be; they were to
swim gently and slowly, according to the example he should set them, so
that they might not become fatigued and require to pause for rest; and,
above all, they were not to bother him by putting questions, but were,
in short, to proceed in perfect silence. He did not condescend to
explain these strange injunctions further than by telling them that, if
they were not followed, and to the letter, neither he nor they might
ever climb into another tree-top!
It is needless to say that, after such an intimation, his orders
received implicit obedience; and those to whom he had given them swam
onward after him as silently as so many fishes. The only sound heard
was the monotonous sighing of the water, seething against the hollow
sapucaya-shells, now and then varied by the scream of the _caracara_
eagle, as it poised itself for a second over their heads, in surprise at
the singular cohort of aquatic creatures moving so mysteriously through
the lagoons.
CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.
ROUND AND ROUND.
For a full hour our adventurers preserved, not only their relative
positions, but also the silence that had been enjoined upon them. None
of them spoke, even when a dead guariba--that had been drowned, perhaps,
by attempting a leap too great for its strength and agility--came
drifting along among them. Not one of them took any notice of it except
the ouistiti upon the shoulders of Richard Trevannion. This diminutive
quadrumanous specimen, on recognising the body of one of its big
kinsmen, entered upon a series of chatterings and squeakings, trembling
all the while as if suddenly awakened to the consciousness that it was
itself in danger of terminating its existence in a similar manner.
Its cries were not heeded. Munday's admonition had been delivered in a
tone too serious to be disregarded; and the ouistiti was permitted to
utter its plaint, without a single word being addressed to it, either of
chiding or consolation. Tranquillity was at length restored, for the
little ape, seeing that no notice was taken of it, desisted from its
noisy demonstrations, and once more the swimmers proceeded in silence.
Half an hour or so might have elapsed before this silence received a
second interruption. It again came in the voice of the ouistiti; which,
rearing itself on its tiny hind-legs, having the shoulders of the
Paraense for a support, craning its head outward over the water,
commenced repeating its cries of alarm. In seeking for an explanation
of this conduct, they contented themselves with watching the movements
of the alarmist, and by turning their eyes towards the object which
appeared to attract the ouistiti and cause it such evident alarm. Each
buoyed himself up to get a good view; and each, as he did so, saw scarce
ten paces ahead of him the carcass of a guariba! It was drifting
towards them in the same manner as the one they had already met; and
before any of them thought of exchanging speech, it was bobbing about in
their midst.
The reflection that occurred to the swimmers was, that there had been a
general drowning among the guaribas somewhere on the shores of the
lagoon: perhaps a tribe had got into some isolated tree, where their
retreat had been cut off by the inundation. Had the tapuyo not been of
the party, this theory might have satisfied all hands, and the journey
would have been continued, instead of being suddenly interrupted by the
tapuyo himself. He was not so easily deceived. On passing the first
guariba, although he had said nothing, he had carefully noted the
peculiarities of the carcass; and as soon as he swam within
distinguishing distance of the second guariba, he saw that the pair were
identical. In other words, our adventurers had for the second time
encountered the same unfortunate ape.
There could be but one conclusion. The carcass could not have changed
its course, unless by the shifting of the wind, or the current of the
water. But neither would have explained that second _rencontre_. It
was only intelligible upon the supposition that the swimmers had been
going round and round and returning on their own track!
CHAPTER FORTY NINE.
GOING BY GUESS.
Although their guide was the first to discover it, he did not attempt to
conceal the dilemma into which he had been instrumental in leading them.
"'Tis true, patron!" he said, addressing himself to Trevannion, and no
longer requiring compliance with his former regulations. "We have gone
astray. That's the same monkey we met before; so you see we're back
where we were a half-hour ago. _Pa terra_! It's crooked luck, patron;
but I suppose the Great Spirit wills it so!"
Trevannion, confounded, made scarcely any reply.
"We mustn't remain here anyhow," pursued the Indian. "We must try to
get to the trees somewhere,--no matter where."
"Surely," said the ex-miner, "we can accomplish that?"
"I hope so," was the reply of the tapuyo, given with no great
confidence.
Trevannion reflected that they had been _swimming in a circle_. Should
this occur again,--and there was every possibility of such a thing,--the
desired end might not be so easy of accomplishment.
For some minutes speculation was suspended. The guide was engaged in
action. Like a water-spaniel in search of a winged wild-duck, he
repeatedly reared himself above the surface, casting glances of
interrogation to every quarter of the compass. Like the same spaniel,
when convinced that the wounded bird has escaped him, he at length
desisted from these idle efforts; and, laying his body along the water,
prepared to swim disappointedly to the shore.
With something more than disappointment--something more than chagrin--
did Munday commence retreating from the lagoon. As he called upon his
companions to follow him, there was a tremor in his voice, and an
irresolution in his stroke perceptible to the least observant of them;
and the fact of his having shouldered the dead guariba, after first
making inspection to see that it was fit for food, was proof of his
entertaining some suspicion that their voyage might be a long one. No
one questioned him; for notwithstanding the failure of his promise to
guide them straight across the lagoon, they still relied upon him. On
whom or what else could they rely?
After proceeding a considerable distance, he came to a pause, once more
stood up in the water, and, turning as upon a pivot, scanned the circle
of the horizon. Satisfied that there was not a tree-top within view, he
swam onward as before. Could he have ensured keeping a straight course,
no great danger need have been apprehended. The lagoon might be ten
miles wide; or, if twenty, it could not so materially affect the result.
Swim as slowly as they might, a score of hours would see them on its
shore,--whether this was the spray of another submerged forest, or the
true _terra firma_. There was no danger of their going to the bottom,
for their swimming-belts secured them against that. There was no danger
of their suffering from thirst,--the contingency most dreaded by the
castaway at sea, and the strayed traveller in the desert,--of fresh
water they had a surfeit. Nor did hunger dismay them. Since eating the
jacana, they had set forth upon a breakfast of Brazil-nuts,--a food
which, from its oily nature, may be said to combine both animal and
vegetable substance. Moreover, they were now no longer unprovided
against a future emergency: since their guide carried upon his shoulders
the carcass of the guariba.
Their real danger lay in their deviating from a right line: for who
could swim straight, with his eyes on a level with the surface of the
water, and nothing to direct his course, neither tree, nor rock, nor
star, nor signal of any kind? The tapuyo knew this. So did they all.
Even the children could tell that they were no longer guided, but going
by guess-work. It was no longer a question of getting _across_ the
lagoon, but _out_ of it. The unsteady movements of their guide, instead
of allaying their fears, produced the contrary effect, and the
disconsolate expression on his countenance was evidence that he was
under much apprehension.
For over an hour this uncertainty continued. The swimmers, one and all,
were beginning to give way to serious alarm. To say nothing of reaching
land, they might never more set eyes upon the submerged forest. They
might swim round and round, as in the vortex of Charybdis, until sheer
exhaustion should reduce them utterly. In due time hunger must overtake
them; and a lingering death by starvation might be their destiny. When
faint from want of food and unable to defend themselves, they would be
attacked by predatory creatures dwelling in the water, while birds of
prey would assail them from the air. Already could they fancy that the
cry of the caracara sounded more spiteful than was its wont; and
exultingly, as if the base bird foreboded for them a tragical ending.
More than twenty times had the tapuyo repeated his inspection of the
horizon, without seeing aught to cheer him. They had been many hours in
the water, and supposed it to be about noon. They could only conjecture
as to the time, for the sun was not visible. At an early hour in the
morning--almost as they started--the sky had become overcast with a
sheet of leaden grey, concealing the sun's disk from their sight. This
circumstance had caused some discouragement; but for it they might long
since have escaped from their dilemma, as the golden luminary, while low
down, would have served them as a guide.
Strange to say, at that hour when it was no longer of any concern to
them, the sky became suddenly clear, and the sun shone forth with
burning brilliance. But his orb was now in the zenith, and of no
service to point out the quarter of the compass. Within the equatorial
zone, north, south, east, and west were all alike to him at that season
of the year and that hour of the day. If they could but have the
direction of one of these points, all would have been well. But the sun
gave no sign.
For all that, the Indian hailed his appearance with a grunt of
satisfaction, while a change came over his countenance that could scarce
be caused by the mere brightening of the sky. Something more than
cheerfulness declared itself in his dark features,--an expression of
renewed hope.
"If the sun keep on to show," said he, in answer to the questioning of
Trevannion, "it will be all right for us. Now it's no good. In an hour
from now he'll make some shadow. Then we shall swim as straight as can
be, never fear, patron! we shall get out of this scrape before night,--
never fear!"