whether they were really in such danger from the proximity of this
people as Munday would have them believe. But the aspect of this
savage, who could now be contemplated closely, and with perfect
coolness, was fast solving these doubts; for no one could have looked in
his face and noted the hideous expression there depicted without a
feeling of fear, not to say horror. If his tribe were all like him,--
and the tapuyo declared that many of them were still uglier,--they must
have formed a community which no sane man would have entered except upon
compulsion.
No wonder, then, that our adventurers took particular pains to keep
their captive along with them, since a sure result of his escape would
be that they would furnish a feast for the Mura village. Had he been
left to himself, Munday would have taken still surer precautions against
his getting off; and it was only in obedience to the sternest commands
of Trevannion that he was withheld from acting up to the old adage,
"Dead men tell no tales."
CHAPTER EIGHTY SIX.
THE CRY OF THE JAGUAR.
The night came on without any untoward incident; but no sooner was the
sun fairly below the horizon than they became aware of a circumstance
that caused them serious annoyance, if not absolute alarm. They saw the
full round moon rising, and every indication of the most brilliant
moonlight. The Mundurucu, more than any of them, was chagrined at this,
because of the importance of having a dark night for carrying out his
scheme, whatever it was. In fact, he had declared that a dark night was
indispensable, or, at all events, one very different from that which the
twilight promised them.
The original intention had been, as soon as night set in, to get the
dead-wood once more into the open water, and then, if the wind should be
in their favour, to bend the sail and glide off in any direction that
would take them away from the malocca. If there should be no wind, they
could use the paddles and creep round the edge of the lagoa, going as
far as might be before another sun should expose them to view. It was
doubtful whether they could row the dead-wood, before daybreak, beyond
eyeshot of the savages; but if not, they could again seek concealment
among the tree-tops, and wait for night to continue their retreat.
This intention was likely to be defeated by the clear shining of a
tropical moon. As she rose higher in the heavens, the lagoa became all
white effulgence; and as there was not the slightest ripple upon the
water, any dark object passing along its surface would have been seen
almost as distinctly as by day. Even the little canoe could not have
been carried outside the edge of the trees without the danger of being
seen from afar.
That the entrance to the arcade and the tree-line outside could be seen
from the malocca was a thing already determined, for the tapuyo had
tested it during the day. Through the foliage in front of the village
he could see here and there some portions of the scaffoldings, with the
_toldos_ erected upon them, while its position was also determined by
the smoke rising from the different fires.
As soon as night had come on, he and the young Paraense had made a
reconnoissance, and from the same place saw the reflection of the fires
upon the water below, and the gleaming fires themselves. Of course they
who sat or stood around them could see them, should they attempt to go
out with the monguba. This scheme, then, could only be resorted to
should the moon be obscured, or "put out," as Munday said, by clouds or
fog.
Munday admitted that his plan _might_ be put in practice, without the
interposition of either; but in this case it would be ten times more
perilous, and liable to failure. In any case he did not intend to act
until midnight. After that, any time would do before the hour of
earliest daybreak. Confiding in the craft of the old tapuyo, Trevannion
questioned him no further, but along with the rest waited as patiently
as possible for the event.
The water-forest was once more ringing with its nocturnal chorus.
Tree-toads and frogs were sending forth their metallic monotones;
_cicadae_ and lizards were uttering their sharp _skirling_ notes, while
birds of many kinds, night-hawks in the air, _strigidae_ among the
trees, and water-fowl out upon the bosom of the lagoon, were all
responding to one another. From afar came lugubrious vociferations from
the throats of a troop of howling monkeys that had made their roost
among the branches of some tall, overtopping tree; and once--what was
something strange--was heard a cry different from all the rest, and on
hearing which all the rest suddenly sank into silence.
That was the cry of the jaguar tiger, the tyrant of the South American
forest. Munday recognised it on the instant, and so did the others; for
they had heard it often before, while descending the Solimoes. It would
have been nothing strange to have heard it on the banks of the mighty
river, or any of its tributaries. But in the Gapo, it was not only
strange, but significant, that scream of the jaguar. "Surely," said
Trevannion on hearing it, "surely we must be in the neighbourhood of
land."
"How, patron?" replied the Mundurucu, to whom the remark was
particularly addressed. "Because we hear the voice of the _jauarite_?
Sometimes the great tiger gets overtaken by the inundation, and then,
like ourselves, has to take to the tree-tops. But, unlike us, he can
swim whenever he pleases, and his instinct soon guides him to the land.
Besides, there are places in the Gapo where the land is above water,
tracts of high ground that during the _vasante_ become islands. In
these the _jauarite_ delights to dwell. No fear of his starving there,
since he has his victims enclosed, as it were, in a prison, and he can
all the more conveniently lay his claws upon them. The cry of that
_jauarite_ is no sure sign of dry land. The beast may be twenty miles
from _terra firma_."
While they were thus conversing, the cry of the jaguar once more
resounded among the tree-tops, and again was succeeded by silence on the
part of the other inhabitants of the forest.
There was one exception, however; one kind of creatures not terrified
into stillness by the voice of the great cat, whose own voices now heard
in the interval of silence, attracted the attention of the listeners.
They were the Muras. Sent forth from the malocca, their shouts came
pealing across the water, and entered the shadowy aisle where our
adventurers sat in concealment, with tones well calculated to cause
fear; for nothing in the Gapo gave forth a harsher or more lugubrious
chant.
Munday, however, who had a thorough knowledge of the habits of his
national enemies, interpreted their tones in a different sense, and drew
good augury from them. He said that, instead of grief, they betokened
joy. Some bit of good luck had befallen them, such as the capture of a
cow-fish, or a half-score of monkeys. The sounds signified feasting and
frolic. There was nothing to denote that the sullen savage by their
side was missed from among them. Certainly he was not mourned in the
malocca.
The interpretation of the tapuyo fell pleasantly upon the ears of his
auditors, and for a while they felt hopeful. But the gloom soon came
back, at sight of that brilliant moon,--a sight that otherwise should
have cheered them,--as she flooded the forest with her silvery light,
till her rich rays, scintillating through the leafy llianas, fell like
sparks upon the sombre surface of the water arcade.
CHAPTER EIGHTY SEVEN.
THE MOON PUT OUT.
Midnight came, and still the moon shone too clear and bright.
Munday began to show uneasiness and anxiety. Several times had he taken
that short swim, like an otter from its earth or a beaver from its
dome-shaped dwelling, each time returning to his companions upon the
log, but with no sign of his having been gratified by the excursion.
About the sixth trip since night had set in, he came swimming back to
the dead-wood with a more pleased expression upon his countenance.
"You've seen something that gratifies you?" said Trevannion,
interrogatively; "or heard it, perhaps?"
"Seen it," was the laconic reply.
"What?"
"A cloud."
"A cloud! Well?"
"Not much of a cloud, patron; no bigger than the spread skin of the
cow-fish there; but it's in the east, and therefore in the direction of
Gran Para. That means much."
"What difference can it make in what direction it is?"
"Every difference! If from Gran Para 'tis up the great river. Up the
great river means rain,--perhaps thunder, lightning, a storm. A storm
is just what we want."
"O, now I see what you mean. Well?"
"I must go back to the mouth of the _igarape_, and take another look at
the sky. Have patience, patron, and pray for me to return with good
news." So saying, the tapuyo once again slipped down into the water,
and swam towards the entrance of the arcade.
For a full half-hour was he absent; but long before his return the news
he was to bring back had been told by signs that anticipated him. The
moonbeams, hitherto seen striking here and there through the thinner
screen of the foliage, had been growing dimmer and dimmer, until they
were no longer discernible, and uniform darkness prevailed under the
shadow of the trees. So dark had it become, that, when the swimmer
returned to the ceiba, they were only warned of his approach by the
slight plashing of his arms, and the next moment he was with them.
"The time has come," said he, "for carrying out my scheme. I've not
been mistaken in what I saw. The cloud, a little bit ago not bigger
than the skin of the juaroua, will soon cover the whole sky. The rags
upon its edge are already blinding the moon; and by the time we can get
under the scaffolds of the malocca it will be dark enough for our
purpose."
"What! the scaffolds of the malocca! You intend going there?"
"That is the intention, patron."
"Alone?"
"No. I want one with me,--the young master."
"But there is great danger, is there not?" suggested Trevannion, "in
going--"
"In going there is," interrupted the tapuyo; "but more in not going. If
we succeed, we shall be all safe, and there's an end of it. If we
don't, we have to die, and that's the other end of it, whatever we may
do."
"But why not try our first plan? It's now dark enough outside. Why
can't we get off upon the raft?"
"Dark enough, as you say, patron. But you forget that it is now near
morning. We couldn't paddle this log more than a mile before the sun
would be shining upon us, and then--"
"Dear uncle," interposed the young Paraense, "don't interfere with his
plans. No doubt he knows what is best to be done. If I am to risk my
life, it is nothing more than we're all doing now. Let Munday have his
way. No fear but we shall return safe. Do, dear uncle! let him have
his way."
As Munday had already informed them, no preparation was needed,--only
his knife and a dark night. Both were now upon him, the knife in his
waist-strap, and the dark night over his head. One other thing was
necessary to the accomplishment of his purpose,--the captured canoe,
which was already prepared, laying handy alongside the log.
With a parting salute to all,--silent on the part of the tapuyo, but
spoken by the young Paraense, a hope of speedy return, an assurance of
it whispered in the ear of Rosita,--the canoe was shoved off, and soon
glided out into the open lagoa.
CHAPTER EIGHTY EIGHT.
AN HOUR OF SUSPENSE.
Scarce had the canoe with its living freight faded out of sight, when
Trevannion repented his rashness in permitting his nephew to risk his
life in a scheme so ill understood as the tapuyo's.
He had no suspicion of the Indian's good faith. It was not that that
caused him regret; only a certain compunction for having so easily
consented to expose to a dread danger the life of his brother's son,--a
life intrusted to his care, and for which he should be held answerable
by that brother, should it be his fortune ever to see him again.
But it was of no use to indulge in these regrets. They were now idle.
The act which had caused them was beyond recall. The canoe must go on
to its destination. What was that? Trevannion could not even
conjecture. He only knew that Munday had started for the malocca; but
his purpose in going there was as much a mystery as though he had
pretended to have gone on a voyage to the moon.
Trevannion even felt angry with the tapuyo, now that he was out of
reach, for having concealed the plan of his enterprise and the extent of
the danger to be encountered. But there was now no alternative but to
await the return of the tapuyo, or the time that would tell he was never
more to return.
It had been fixed by the Indian himself, in a speech whispered into the
ear of Trevannion as he pushed off the canoe. It was this: "A word,
patron! If we're not back before daylight, stay where you are till
to-morrow night. Then, if it be dark, do as we proposed for to-night.
Steal out and away. But don't fear of our failing. I only say that for
the worst. The Mundurucu has no fear. _Pa terra_! in an hour's time we
shall be back, bringing with us what we're in need of,--something that
will carry us clear of our enemies and of the Gapo."
So the party remained seated on the log. Each had his own conjecture
about Munday's plan, though all acknowledged it to be a puzzle.
The surmise of Tipperary Tom was sufficiently original. "I wondher
now," said he, "if the owld chap manes to set fire to their town!
Troth, it's loike enough that's what he's gone afther. Masther Dick
sayed it was ericted upon scaffolds wid bames of wood an' huts upon them
that looked loike the laves of threes or dry grass. Shure them would
blaze up loike tindher, an' create a moighty conflagrayshin."
The opinion of Tom's auditors did not altogether coincide with his. To
set the malocca on fire, even if such a thing were possible, could do no
good. The inhabitants would be in no danger from conflagration. They
would only have to leap into the flood to save themselves from the fire;
and, as they could all swim like water-rats, they would soon recover a
footing among the trees. Besides, they had their great rafts and
canoes, that would enable them to go wherever they wished. They could
soon erect other scaffolds, and construct other huts upon them.
Moreover, as Munday and Richard had informed them, the scaffolds of the
malocca were placed a score of yards apart. The flames of one would not
communicate with the other through the green foliage of that humid
forest. To fire the whole village with any chance of success, it would
be necessary to have an incendiary under each scaffold, all applying the
torch together. It could not be for that purpose the tapuyo had gone
forth.
While engaged in the debate, they got so engrossed by it as to become
neglectful of a duty enjoined upon them by the tapuyo, to keep a strict
watch over the captive. It was Tipperary Tom and the Mozambique, who
had been charged with this guardianship. Both, however, confident that
it was impossible for the savage to untie himself, had only glanced now
and then to see that he was there, his bronze-coloured body being
scarcely visible in the obscurity.
As it grew darker, it was at length impossible for them to distinguish
the captive from the brown surface of the ceiba, except by stooping down
over him, and this both neglected to do. Little dreamt they of the sort
of creature they were dealing with, who could have claimed rivalry with
the most accomplished professors of the famous rope-tricks.
As soon as he saw that the eyes of his sentinels were no longer upon
him, he wriggled himself out of the sipos with as much ease as if he had
been an eel, and, sliding gently from the log, swam off.
It was a full half-hour after his departure before either of the
sentinels thought of giving any attention to the state of their
prisoner. When they did so, it was to find him gone, and the coils of
tree-rope lying loosely upon the log. With simultaneous exclamations of
alarm, they turned towards Trevannion, and then all looked in the
direction of the lagoa, thinking they might see a swimmer going out.
Instead of that they saw, through the dim light, what appeared to be a
fleet of canoes, with men in them violently wielding their paddles, and
directing their crafts right into the arcade!
CHAPTER EIGHTY NINE.
SCUTTLING THE CANOES.
The Mundurucu and his young companion, having paddled their craft out of
the little creek, turned its head towards the Mura village. Though the
fires were no longer blazing so brightly as at an earlier hour of the
night, there was still a red glow seen here and there, that told the
position of the scaffolds, and served as a beacon to direct their
course. But they needed no such pilotage. The border of the forest was
their guide, and along this they went, taking care to keep close in
under its shadow. It was dark enough out upon the open water to prevent
their being observed; but the Mundurucu was accustomed to act with
extreme circumspection, and more than ever since the mistake we recorded
some time before.
As the malocca was but a short distance from the forest border, the
tree-line would bring them close to its water frontage. Beyond that he
could trust to the guidance of the surrounding fires.
Less than half an hour's use of the paddle--its blade dipped gently in
the water--brought them within a hundred yards of the outskirts of the
village. Although the expedition was not to end here, it was not their
design to take the canoe any farther. I say _their_ design, for by this
time the young Paraense had been made acquainted with his companion's
purpose. The chief reason why Munday had not disclosed it to Trevannion
was, that the patron, deeming it too dangerous, might have put a veto
upon its execution. What this plan was, will be learnt by a relation of
the mode in which it was carried out.
Tying the canoe to a tree in such a way that they could easily detach it
again, the two slipped over the gunwale, and laid themselves silently
along the water. Each was provided with a swimming-belt; for the task
they had undertaken might require them to remain a good while afloat;
and, moreover, it would be necessary for them now and then to remain
still, without making any noise by striking the water to sustain
themselves, while, furthermore, they would need at times to have both
arms free for a different purpose. Thus accoutred, and Munday armed
with his knife, they swam under the scaffolds.
They were careful not to cause the slightest commotion,--careful, too,
to keep out of the narrow belts of light that fell slantingly from the
fires above. These were becoming fewer, and fast fading, as the fires,
one after another, went out. It appeared certain that the whole village
was asleep. No human form was seen, no voice heard; no sign of human
beings, save the scaffolding that had been constructed by them, and the
half-score of boats in the water underneath, moored to the trunks of the
supporting trees.
It was to these vessels that the Mundurucu was directing himself and his
coadjutor. Though his eyes were everywhere, his mind was fixed upon
them. There were, in all, about half a score of them, six being
_igarites_, or canoes rudely constructed of tree-bark, similar in shape
and fashion to that they had just parted from, but three of them of
larger size, each capable of containing about eight men. The others
were large rafts or punts of rude fabrication, each big enough to
support a toldo hut, with a whole family, and a number of friends to
boot.
Only to the canoes did the tapuyo direct his attention. On swimming
past the punts he did not even stay to regard them. To all the
igarites, however, except one,--and it the largest,--he paid a visit;
stopping a considerable time alongside each, but lying so low in the
water that only his head could have been seen above the surface, and
scarcely that through the treble shadow of the night, the scaffolds, and
the tree-tops. It was only visible to his companion, whose face was all
the while within three feet of his own, and whose hands were employed in
assisting him in his subtle task. What was this task, so silent and
mysterious?
In each of the five canoes to which the swimmers had paid their silent
visit, and just after their departure from it, could have been heard a
gurgling sound, as of water gushing up through a hole in the bottom. It
was heard, but only by him who had made the hole and the companion who
had held the craft in its place while the knife-blade was accomplishing
its purpose. To its sharp point the soft tree-bark had yielded, and in
ten minutes' time the five canoes, one after another, were scuttled,
and, if left to themselves, in a fair way of going to the bottom.
But they were not left to themselves. They would have been, but for the
negligence of Tom and the sable Mozambique. Just as the scuttlers had
concluded their part of the task, and were about to climb into the sixth
canoe, that had been left seaworthy, a dark form that might have been
taken for some demon of the flood was seen to rise out of the water, and
stand dripping upon one of the rafts. It stood only for a second or
two,--just long enough to draw breath,--and then, laying hold of a
knotted lliana that formed a sort of stair, it climbed to the
scaffolding above.
Dim as was the light, the Mundurucu recognised the dripping climber as
the captive he had left on the log. "_Santos dios_!" he muttered, in a
hoarse whisper, "'tis the Mura. They've let him escape, and now we're
discovered. Quick, young master. Into the igarite. All right; there
are two paddles: you take one, I the other. There's not a moment to be
lost. In ten minutes more we should have been safe; but now--see! they
are filling fast. Good! If he gives us but ten minutes before raising
the alarm--Ha! there it is. Off! off!"
While the tapuyo was speaking, still in a muttered undertone, a wild
yell was heard upon the scaffolding above. It was a signal sent forth
by the returned captive to warn his slumbering nation, not that their
navy was being scattered in its very dock by an unknown enemy, for he
had neither seen the scuttler nor suspected what had been going on, but
simply to tell his tribe of the adventure that had befallen himself, and
conduct them in all haste to the spot where he had parted from his
detested but careless captors. He had seen the two of them go off in
the igarite, impudently appropriating his own vessel before his face.
Where could they have gone, but to make a nocturnal investigation of the
malocca?
It was for this reason he had himself approached it so stealthily, not
raising any note of alarm until he felt safe upon the scaffolding of his
own habitation. Then did he send forth that horrid haloo-loo.
Scarce had its echoes ceased to reverberate through the village, when it
was answered by a hundred voices, all shouting in a similar strain, all
giving a response to the tribe's cry of alarm. Men could be heard
springing from their hammocks, and dropping down upon the platforms, the
timbers of which creaked under quick, resonant footsteps. In the dim
light some were seen hastily snatching up their bows, and preparing to
descend to their canoes, little suspecting that they would find them
scuttled and already half swamped.
As Munday had said, there was not a moment to be lost; and, acting up to
his words, he did not permit one to be lost. In the large igarite
propelled by the two paddles, he and his assistant stole off among the
trees, and were soon out upon the lagoa, pulling, as fast as their
strength and skill would permit them, in the direction of the creek.
CHAPTER NINETY.
THE LOG LEFT BEHIND.
The escape of their captive had caused the keenest apprehensions to the
people upon the raft, which were scarce intensified at the sight of the
canoe entering the arcade.