they set about moving it away from its moorings. This was not so easily
accomplished. The log was a log in every respect; and though once a
splendid silk-cotton-tree, covered with gossamer pods, and standing in
airy majesty over the surrounding forest, it now lay as heavy as lead
among the weeds and water-lilies, as if unwilling to be stirred from the
spot into which it had drifted.
You may wonder how they were able to move it at all; supposing, as you
must, that they were unprovided with either oars or sails. But they
were not so badly off as that. The whole of the preceding day had not
been spent in curing the fish-cow. Munday's knife had done other
service during the afternoon hours, and a pair of paddles had been the
result. Though of a rude kind, they were perfect enough for the purpose
required of them; while at the same time they gave evidence of great
ingenuity on the part of the contriver. They had handles of wood, with
blades of _bone_, made from the fish-cow's shoulder-blades, which Munday
had carefully retained with the skin, while allowing the offal to sink.
In his own tribe, and elsewhere on the Amazon, he had seen these bones
employed--and had himself employed them--as a substitute for the spade.
Many a cacao patch and field of mandioca had Munday cleared with the
shoulder-blade of a fish-cow; and upon odd occasions he had used one for
a paddle. It needed only to shaft them; and this had been done by
splicing a pole to each with the tough sipos.
Provided with these paddles, then,--one of them wielded by himself, the
other by the sturdy Mozambique,--the log was compelled to make way
through the water. The progress was necessarily slow, on account of the
tangle of long stalks and broad leaves of the lilies. But it promised
to improve, when they should get beyond these into the open part of the
lagoon. Out there, moreover, they could see that there was a ripple
upon the water; which proved that a breeze had sprung up, not
perceptible inside the sheltering selvage of the trees, blowing in the
right direction,--that is, from the trees, and towards the lagoa.
You may suppose that the wind could not be of much use to them with such
a craft,--not only without a rudder, but unprovided with sails. So
thought they all except the old tapuyo. But the Indian had not been
navigating the Gapo for more than forty years of his life, without
learning how to construct a sail; and, if nothing else had turned up, he
could have made a tolerable substitute for one out of many kinds of
broad, tough leaves,--especially those of the _miriti_ palm.
He had not revealed his plans to any one of the party. Men of his race
rarely declare their intentions until the moment of carrying them into
execution. There is a feeling of proud superiority that hinders such
condescension. Besides, he had not yet recovered from the sting of
humiliation that succeeded the failure of his swimming enterprise; and
he was determined not to commit himself again, either by too soon
declaring his designs, or too confidently predicting their successful
execution.
It was not, therefore, till a stout pole had been set up in a hollow dug
out by his knife in the larger end of the log, two cross pieces firmly
lashed to it by sipos, and the skin of the fish-cow spread out against
these like a huge thick blanket of caoutchouc, and attached to them by
the same cordage of creepers,--it was not till then that his companions
became fully acquainted with his object in having cut poles, scooped the
hollow, and retained the skin of the cow, as he had done to their
previous bewilderment.
It was all clear now; and they could not restrain themselves from giving
a simultaneous cheer, as they saw the dull dead-wood, under the
impulsion of the skin sail, commence a more rapid movement, until it
seemed to "walk the water like a thing of life."
CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO.
BECALMED.
Once out on the open lagoa, and fairly under sail, in what direction
should they steer their new craft? They wanted to reach the other side
of the lagoa, which the Indian believed to extend in the right direction
for finding _terra firma_. They had skirted the edge upon which they
were for several miles, without finding either the sign of land or an
opening by which they might penetrate through the forest, and it was but
natural that they should wish to make trial the other side, in the hope
of meeting with better fortune.
Mozey, who prided himself on being the best sailor aboard, was intrusted
with the management of the sail, while Trevannion himself acted as
pilot. The Indian busied himself in looking after the curing of the
charqui, which, by the help of such a hot sun as was shining down upon
them, would soon be safely beyond the chance of decay. The young
people, seated together near the thick end of the log--which Mozey had
facetiously christened the quarter-deck of the craft--occupied
themselves as they best might.
The cloud that had shadowed them for days was quite dispelled. With
such a raft, there was every expectation of getting out of the Gapo. It
might not be in a day, or even in a week. But time was of little
consequence, so long as there was a prospect of ultimate release from
the labyrinth of flooded forests. The charqui, if economised, would
feed all hands for a fortnight, at least; and unless they should again
get stranded among the tree-tops they could scarcely be all that time
before reaching dry land.
Their progress was sadly slow. Their craft has been described as
"walking the water like a thing of life." But this is rather a poetical
exaggeration. Its motion was that of a true dead-wood, heavily weighted
with the water that for weeks had been saturating its sides. It barely
yielded to the sail; and had they been forced to depend upon the
paddles, it would have been a hopeless affair. A mile an hour was the
most they were able to make; and this only when the breeze was at its
freshest. At other times, when it unfortunately lulled, the log lay
upon the water with no more motion than they caused as they stepped over
it.
Towards noon their progress became slower; and when at length the
meridian hour arrived the ceiba stood still. The sail had lost the
power of propelling it on. The breeze had died away, and there was now
a dead calm. The shoulder-blades of the peixe-boi were now resorted to,
but neither these, nor the best pair of oars that ever pulled a
man-o'-war's boat, could have propelled that tree-trunk through the
water faster than half a knot to the hour, and the improvised paddles
were soon laid aside.
There was one comfort in the delay. The hour of dinner had now arrived,
and the crew were not unprepared for the midday meal; for in their hurry
at setting out, and the solicitude arising from their uncertainty about
their craft, they had breakfasted scantily. Their dinner was to consist
of but one dish, a cross between fish and flesh,--a cross between fresh
and dried,--for the peixe-boi was still but half converted into charqui.
The Indian had carefully guarded the fire, the kindling of which had
cost him so much trouble and ingenuity. A few sparks still smouldered
where they had been nursed; and, with some decayed pieces of the ceiba
itself, a big blaze was once more established. Over this the choicest
tit-bits were suspended until their browned surface proclaimed them
"done to a turn." Their keen appetites furnished both sauce and
seasoning; and when the meal was over, all were ready to declare that
they had never dined more sumptuously in their lives. Hunger is the
best appetiser; scarcity comes next.
They sat after dinner conversing upon different themes, and doing the
best they could to while away the time,--the only thing that at all
discommoded them being the beams of the sun, which fell upon their
crowns like sparks of fire showered from a burning sky. Tom's idea was
that the heat of the sun could be endured with greater ease in the water
than upon the log; and, to satisfy himself, he once more girdled on the
cincture of shells, and slipped over the side. His example was followed
by the patron himself, his son and nephew.
Little Rosa did not need to retreat overboard in this ignominious
manner. She was in the shade, under a tiny _toldo_ of broad leaves of a
_Pothos_ plant, which, growing parasitically upon one of the trees, had
been plucked the day before, and spread between two buttresses of the
dead-wood. Her cousin had constructed this miniature arbour, and proud
did he appear to see his little sylph reclining under its shade.
The tapuyo, accustomed to an Amazonian sun, did not require to keep cool
by submerging himself; and as for the negro, he would scarce have been
discommoded by an atmosphere indicated by the highest figure on the
thermometer. These two men, though born on opposite sides of the
Atlantic Ocean, were alike types of a tropical existence, and equally
disregarded the fervour of a tropic sun.
Suddenly the four, who had fallen a little astern, were seen making
towards the log; and by the terror depicted on their countenances, as
well as their quick, irregular strokes, it was evident something in the
water had caused them serious alarm. What could it all mean? It was of
no use to ask the swimmers themselves. They were as ignorant of what
was alarming them as their companions upon the log; they only knew that
something was biting them about the legs and feet; but what it was they
had not the slightest idea. It might be an insect,--it might be a
water-snake, or other amphibious reptile; but whatever it was, they
could tell that its teeth were sharp as needles, and scored their flesh
like fish-hooks.
It was not till they had gained footing upon the log, and their legs
were seen covered with lacerations, and streaming with fresh blood, that
they ascertained the sort of enemy that had been attacking them. Had
the water been clear, they might have discovered it long before; but
discoloured as it was, they could not see beneath the surface far enough
to make out the character of their secret assailants. But the tapuyo
well understood the signs, and, as soon as his eye rested upon them, his
perplexity disappeared; and, with an exclamation that rather betokened
relief, he pronounced the simple phrase, "Only _piranhas_!"
CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE.
THE PIRANHAS.
The companions of the tapuyo were no wiser for his words, until piranhas
was explained to them to mean "biting fish," for such were the unseen
enemies that assailed them.
They belong to the great tribe of the _Salmonidae_, of which there are
many varieties in the different Amazonian rivers, all very voracious,
and ready to bite at anything that may be thrown into the water. They
often attack bathers, putting them to flight; and a swimmer who should
unfortunately be surrounded by them, when far from the shore or a boat,
would have the greatest difficulty to escape the fearful late of being
eaten up alive. Most of the species are fish of small size, and it is
their numbers that the swimmer has chiefly to dread.
As it was, our adventurers were more scared than hurt. The commotion
which they had made in the water, by their plunging and kicking, had
kept the piranhas at a distance, and it was only an odd one that had
been able to get a tooth into them.
For any injury they had sustained, the Mundurucu promised them not only
a speedy revenge, but indemnification of a more consolatory kind. He
knew that the piranhas, having tasted blood, would not willingly wander
away, at least for a length of time. Although he could not see the
little fish through the turbid water, he was sure they were still in the
neighbourhood of the log, no doubt in search of the prey that had so
mysteriously escaped them. As the dead-wood scarcely stirred, or
drifted only slightly, the piranhas could keep alongside, and see
everything that occurred without being seen themselves. This the tapuyo
concluded they were doing. He knew their reckless voracity,--how they
will suddenly spring at anything thrown into the water, and swallow
without staying to examine it.
Aware of this habit, he had no difficulty in determining what to do.
There was plenty of bait in the shape of half-dried charqui, but not a
fish-hook to be found. A pair of pins, however, supplied the
deficiency, and a piece of string was just right for a line. This was
fastened at one end to the pashuba spear, to the pin-hook at the other;
and then, the latter being baited with a piece of peixe-boi, the fishing
commenced.
Perhaps never with such rude tackle was there more successful angling.
Almost as soon as the bait sank under the water, it was seized by a
piranha, which was instantly jerked out of its native element, and
landed on the log. Another and another and another, till a score of the
creatures lay upon the top of the dead-wood, and Tipperary Tom gave them
the finishing touch, as they were caught, with a cruel eagerness that
might to some extent have been due to the smarting of his shins.
How long the "catch" might have continued it is difficult to say. The
little fish were hooked as fast as fresh bait could be adjusted, and it
seemed as if the line of succession was never to end. It did end,
however, in an altogether unexpected way, by one of the piranhas
dropping back again into the water, and taking, not only the bait, but
the hook and a portion of the line along with it, the string having
given away at a weak part near the end of the rod.
Munday, who knew that the little fish were excellent to eat, would have
continued to take them so long as they were willing to be taken, and for
this purpose the dress of Rosita was despoiled of two more pins, and a
fresh piece of string made out of the skin of the cow-fish.
When the new tackle was tried, however, he discovered to his
disappointment that the piranhas would no longer bite; not so much as a
nibble could be felt at the end of the string. They had had time for
reflection, perhaps had held counsel among themselves, and come to the
conclusion that the game they had been hitherto playing was "snapdragon"
of a dangerous kind, and that it was high time to desist from it.
The little incident, at first producing chagrin, was soon viewed rather
with satisfaction. The wounds received were so slight as scarce to be
regarded, and the terror of the thing was over as soon as it became
known what tiny creatures had inflicted them. Had it been snakes,
alligators, or any animals of the reptile order, it might have been
otherwise. But a school of handsome little fishes,--who could suppose
that there had been any danger in their attack?
There had been, nevertheless, as the tapuyo assured them,--backing up
his assurance by the narrative of several narrow escapes he had himself
had from being torn to pieces by their sharp triangular teeth, further
confirming his statements by the account of an Indian, one of his own
tribe, who had been eaten piecemeal by piranhas.
It was in the river Tapajos, where this species of fish is found in
great plenty. The man had been in pursuit of a peixe-boi, which he had
harpooned near the middle of the river, after attaching his weapon by
its cord to the bow of his montaria. The fish being a strong one, and
not wounded in a vital part, had made a rush to get off, carrying the
canoe along with it. The harpooner, standing badly balanced in his
craft, lost his balance and fell overboard. While swimming to overtake
the canoe, he was attacked by a swarm of piranhas ravenous for prey,
made so perhaps by the blood of the peixe-boi left along the water. The
Indian was unable to reach the canoe; and notwithstanding the most
desperate efforts to escape, he was ultimately compelled to yield to his
myriad assailants.
His friends on shore saw all, without being able to render the slightest
assistance. They saw his helpless struggles, and heard his last
despairing shriek, as he sank below the surface of the water. Hastening
to their canoes, they paddled, rapidly out to the spot where their
comrade had disappeared. All they could discern was a skeleton lying
along the sand at the bottom of the river, clean picked as if it had
been prepared for an anatomical museum, while the school of piranhas was
disporting itself alone, as if engaged in dancing some mazy minuet in
honour of the catastrophe they had occasioned.
CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR.
A STOWAWAY.
The new-caught fishes looked too temptingly fresh to be long untasted;
and although it was but an hour since our adventurers had eaten their
dinner, one and all were inclined for an afternoon meal upon piranha.
The Mundurucu set the fire freshly astir, and half a dozen piranhas were
soon browned in the blaze and distributed among the party, who one and
all endorsed the tapuyo, by pronouncing them a delicacy.
After the second dinner they were more gay than ever. The sun sinking
westward indicated the quarters of the compass; and already a few puffs
of wind promised them an evening breeze. They saw that it was still
blowing in the same direction, and therefore favourable to the
navigation of their craft, whose thick sail, spread broadly athwart
ships, seemed eager to catch it.
Little dreamt they at that moment that, as it were, a volcano was
slumbering under their feet; that separated from them by only a few
inches of half-decayed wood was a creature of such monstrous size and
hideous shape as to have impressed with a perpetual fear every Indian
upon the Amazon, from Para to Peru, from the head waters of the Purus to
the sources of the Japura! At that moment, when they were chatting
gaily, even laughingly, in confidence of a speedy deliverance from the
gloomy Gapo,--at that very moment the great _Mai d'Agoa_, the "Mother of
the Waters," was writhing restlessly beneath them, preparing to issue
forth from the cavern that concealed her.
The tapuyo was sitting near the fire, picking the bones of a piranha,
which he had just taken from the spit, when all at once the half-burned
embers were seen to sink out of sight, dropping down into the log, as
cinders into the ash-pit of a dilapidated grate. "Ugh!" exclaimed the
Indian, giving a slight start, but soon composing himself; "the
dead-wood hollow at the heart! Only a thin shell outside, which the
fire has burnt through. I wondered why it floated so lightly,--wet as
it was!"
"Wasn't it there the tocandeiras had their nest?" inquired Trevannion.
"No, patron. The hole they had chosen for their hive is different. It
was a cavity in one of the branches. This is a hollow along the main
trunk. Its entrance will be found somewhere in the butt,--under the
water, I should think, as the log lies now."
Just then no one was curious enough to crawl up to the thick end and
see. What signified it whether the entrance to the hollow, which had
been laid open by the falling in of the fire, was under water or above
it, so long as the log itself kept afloat? There was no danger to be
apprehended, and the circumstance would have been speedily dismissed
from their minds, but for the behaviour of the coaita, which now
attracted their attention.
It had been all the time sitting upon the highest point which the
dead-wood offered for a perch. Not upon the rudely rigged mast, nor yet
the yard that carried the sail; but on a spar that projected several
feet beyond the thick end, still recognisable as the remains of a root.
Its air and attitude had undergone a sudden change. It stood at full
length upon all fours, uttering a series of screams, with chatterings
between, and shivering throughout its whole frame, as if some dread
danger was in sight, and threatening it with instant destruction.
It was immediately after the falling in of the fagots that this began;
but there was nothing to show that it was connected with that. The
place where the fire had been burning was far away from its perch; and
it had not even turned its eyes in that direction. On the contrary, it
was looking below; not directly below where it stood, but towards the
butt-end of the ceiba, which could not be seen by those upon the log.
Whatever was frightening it should be there. There was something about
the excited actions of the animal,--something so heart-rending in its
cries,--that it was impossible to believe them inspired by any ordinary
object of dread; and the spectators were convinced that some startling
terror was under its eyes.
Tipperary Tom was the first to attempt a solution of the mystery. The
piteous appeals of his pet could not be resisted. Scrambling along the
log he reached the projecting point, and peeped over. Almost in the
same instant he recoiled with a shriek; and, calling on his patron
saint, retreated to the place where he had left his companions. On his
retreat Munday set out to explore the place whence he had fled, and, on
reaching it, craned his neck over the end of the dead-wood, and looked
below. A single glance seemed to satisfy him; and, drawing back with as
much fear as the man who had preceded him, he exclaimed in a terrified
shriek, "_Santos Dios_! 'tis the Spirit of the Waters!"
CHAPTER SEVENTY FIVE.
THE SPIRIT OF THE WATERS.
"The _Mai d'Agoa_! the Spirit of the Waters!" exclaimed Trevannion,
while the rest stood speechless with astonishment, gazing alternately
upon the Indian and the Irishman, who trembled with affright. "What do
you mean? Is it something to be feared?"
Munday gave an emphatic nod, but said no word, being partly awed into
silence and partly lost in meditating some plan of escape from this new
peril.
"What did _you_ see, Tom?" continued Trevannion, addressing himself to
the Irishman, in hopes of receiving some explanation from that quarter.
"Be Sant Pathrick! yer honour, I can't tell yez what it was. It was
something like a head with a round shinin' neck to it, just peepin' up
out av the wather. I saw a pair av eyes,--I didn't stay for any more,
for them eyes was enough to scare the sowl out av me. They were
glittherin' like two burnin' coals! Munday calls it the spirit av the
wathers. It looks more like the spirit av darkness!"
"The _Mai d'Agoa_, uncle," interposed the young Paraense, speaking in a
suppressed voice. "_The Mother of the Waters_! It's only an Indian
superstition, founded on the great water serpent,--the anaconda. No
doubt it's one of these he and Tom have seen swimming about under the
butt-end of the log. If it be still there I shall have a look at it
myself."
The youth was proceeding towards the spot so hastily vacated by Munday
and Tom, when the former, seizing him by the arm, arrested his progress.
"For your life, young master, don't go there! Stay where you are. It
may not come forth, or may not crawl up to this place. I tell you it is
the Spirit of the Waters!"
"Nonsense, Munday; there's no such thing as a _spirit_ of the waters.
If there were, it would be of no use our trying to hide from it. What
you've seen is an anaconda. I know these water-boas well enough,--have
seen them scores of times among the islands at the mouth of the Amazon.
I have no fear of them. Their bite is not poisonous, and, unless this
is a very large one, there's not much danger. Let me have a look!"
The Indian, by this time half persuaded that he had made a mistake,--his
confidence also restored by this courageous behaviour,--permitted
Richard to pass on to the end of the log. On reaching it he looked
over; but recoiled with a cry, as did the others, while the ape uttered
a shrill scream, sprang down from its perch, and scampered off to the
opposite extremity of the dead-wood.
"It _is_ an anaconda!" muttered the Paraense, as he made his way
"amidships," where the rest were awaiting him; "the largest I have ever
seen. No wonder, Munday, you should mistake it for the _Mai d'Agoa_.
'Tis a fearful-looking creature, but I hope we shall be able to destroy
it before it can do any of us an injury. But it is very large, and we
have no arms! What's to be done, Munday?"
"Be quiet,--make no noise!" entreated the Indian, who was now himself
again. "May be it will keep its place till I can get the spear through
its neck, and then--Too late! The sucuruju is coming upon the log!"