the latter was but the sequence of the former. The Mura had swum back
to his malocca. They knew he could easily do it. He had _learned_ his
kindred, and it was they who now manned the igarite that was making
approach. It was only the first of a whole fleet. No doubt there was a
score of others coming on behind, each containing its complement of
cannibals. The manatee-hunter had got back to his village in time to
tell of the two who had gone there in his own canoe. These, unaware of
his escape, had, in all probability, been surprised and taken prisoners.
Shouts had been heard from the village just before the man was missed.
It was this, in fact, that had caused them to think of their prisoner.
On finding that he had given them the slip, they interpreted the shouts
in two ways. They were either salutations of welcome to the returned
captive, or cries of triumph over the death or capture of the tapuyo and
his companion.
More like the latter. So thought they upon the log; and the thought was
strengthened by the appearance of the big canoe at the entrance of the
arcade. Its crew were Mura savages, guided to their place of
concealment by him who had stolen away.
These conjectures, varied though they were, passed through their minds
with the rapidity of thought itself; for scarce ten seconds had elapsed
from the time of their sighting the canoe until it was close up to the
ceiba.
Then to their great joy, they saw they had been reasoning wrongly. The
two forms had been magnified into ten, partly through the deception of
the dim light, and partly because they had been springing from side to
side while paddling the canoe and steering it into the creek.
As they drew near, the others could see that they were in a state of the
wildest excitement, working with all their strength, and gazing
anxiously behind them.
"Quick, uncle," cried Richard, as the igarite struck against the
dead-wood. "Quick! all of you get aboard here."
"_Pa terra_!" added the tapuyo. "Do as he tells you. By letting your
prisoner get off you've spoiled my plans. There's no time to talk now.
Into the igarite! If the others are still afloat--then--then--Haste,
patron! Everybody into the igarite!"
As the Indian gave these directions, he himself sprang on to the log;
and tearing down the skin sail, he flung it into the canoe. After it he
pitched several pieces of the charqui, and then descended himself.
By this time all the others had taken their seats in the canoe, Richard
having caught little Rosa in his arms as she sprang down.
There was not a moment of delay. The two paddles belonging to the
igarite were grasped, one by Munday himself, the other by the negro, who
was next best rower, while the two bladed with the bones of the cow-fish
were in the hands of Trevannion and his nephew.
There were thus four available oars to the craft, that promised a fair
degree of speed.
With a last look at the log that had carried them safely, though
slowly,--a look that, under other circumstances, might have been given
with regret,--they parted from it, and in a score of seconds they had
cleared the craft from the branches of the trees, and were out upon the
bosom of the lagoa.
"In what direction?" inquired Trevannion, as for a moment their strokes
were suspended.
"Stay a minute, patron," replied the tapuyo, as he stood up in the
igarite and gazed over the water in the direction of the Mura village.
"Before starting, it's as well to know whether they are able to follow
us. If not, it's no use killing ourselves by hard work."
"You think there's a chance they may not come after us?"
"A chance,--yes. It would have been a certainty if you had not let that
ape loose. We should now be as safe from pursuit as if a hundred
leagues lay between us and them. As it is, I have my fears; there was
not time for them to go down,--not all of them. The small ones may, but
the big igarite,--it would be still afloat; they could bale out and
caulk up again. After all, it won't carry the whole tribe, and there's
something in that,--there's something in that."
While the tapuyo thus talked he was standing with his head craned out
beyond the edge of the igarite, scanning the water in the direction of
the village. His final words were but the involuntary utterance of what
was passing in his mind, and not addressed to his companions. Richard
alone knew the meaning, for as yet the others had received no
explanation of what had passed under the scaffolds. There was no time
to give a detailed account of that. It would be soon enough when the
igarite was fairly on its way, and they became assured of their safety.
No one pressed for an explanation. All, even Trevannion himself, felt
humiliated by the thought that they had neglected their duty, and the
knowledge that but for that very neglect the danger that threatened them
would have been now at an end.
The dawn was already beginning to appear along the eastern horizon, and
although it was far from daylight, there was no longer the deep darkness
that but a short while before shrouded the water. Out on the lagoa, at
any point within the circumference of a mile, a large object, such as a
canoe, could have been seen. There was none in sight.
This looked well. Perfect stillness reigned around the Mura village.
There was no human voice to be heard, where but the moment before there
had been shouting and loud talking, both men and women taking part in
what appeared a confused conversation. The fires, too, were out, or at
all events no longer visible from the lagoa.
Munday remarked that the silence augured ill. "I fear they are too busy
to be making a noise," said he. "Their keeping quiet argues that they
have the means, as well as the intention, to come after us. If they had
not, you would hear their howls of disappointment. Yes: we may be sure
of it. They're emptying such of their canoes as may still be above
water."
"Emptying their canoes! what mean you by that?"
Munday then explained the nature of his late expedition, now that its
failure could no longer be charged upon himself. A few words sufficed
to make the whole thing understood, the others admiring the bold
ingenuity of the plan as strongly as they regretted having given cause
for its being frustrated.
Though no pursuers had as yet appeared, that was no reason why they
should stay an instant longer by the entrance to the arcade; so, once
more handling the paddles, they put the great igarite to its best speed.
CHAPTER NINETY ONE.
THE ENEMY IN SIGHT.
There was no debating the question as to the course they should take.
This was opposite to the direction in which lay the malocca. In other
words, they struck out for the open water, almost in the same track by
which they had come from the other bide while navigating the tree-trunk.
Trevannion had suggested keeping "in shore" and under the shadow of the
tree-tops.
"No use," said the tapuyo; "in ten minutes more there will be light over
the water. We'll be seen all the same, and by following the line of the
forest we should give our pursuers the advantage; they, by keeping
straight across, would easily overtake us. The trees go round in a
circle, don't you see?"
"True," replied Trevannion; "I did not think of that. It is to be hoped
we shall not have pursuers."
"If we have they will soon come up with us, for they have more paddles,
and are better skilled in the use of them; if they come after us at all,
they will be sure to overtake us."
"Then we shall be captured,--perhaps destroyed." This was spoken in a
whisper in the ear of the tapuyo.
"It don't follow,--one or the other. If it did, I shouldn't have much
hope in handling this bit of a stick. We may be pursued, overtaken, and
still get off in the end. They may not like close quarters any more
than we. That, you see, depends on how many of their vessels are gone
to the bottom, and how many are still afloat. If more than half that
were scuttled have sunk, we may dread their arrows more than their oars.
If more than half are above water, we shall be in more danger from
their speed."
Notwithstanding the enigmatical character of the tapuyo's speeches,
Trevannion, as well as the others, was able to understand them. He
simply meant that, if the enemy were left without a sufficient number of
canoes to pursue them in large force, they would not think of boarding,
but would keep at a distance, using their arrows in the attack.
It was by no means a pleasant prospect; still, it was pleasanter than
the thought of coming to close quarters with a crowd of cannibal
savages, and being either hacked to pieces with their knives, clubbed to
death with their _macanas_, or dragged overboard and drowned in the
lagoa.
"In five minutes more," continued the tapuyo, "we shall know the best or
the worst. By that time it will be light enough to see in under the
trees yonder. By that time, if they have a single igarite above water,
she'll be baled out. By that time they should be after us. If we don't
see them in five minutes, we need never look for them again."
A minute--another--a third elapsed, and still no appearance of pursuers
or pursuit. Slower still seemed the fourth, though it too passed, and
no movement on the water. Every heart beat with hope that the time
would transpire without any change. But, alas! it was not to be so.
The black line was broken by the bow of a canoe, and in an instant after
the craft itself was seen gliding out from under the shadow of the
trees. The tapuyo's prediction was fulfilled.
"The big igarite!" he exclaimed. "Just what I had fears of; I doubted
its going down in time. Eight in it! Well, that's nothing, if the
others have sunk."
"But stay a moment," returned Richard; "see yonder! Another coming out,
farther down to the right!"
"That's the cockle-shell we took from the harpooner. There are two in
it, which is all it will hold. Only ten, as yet. Good! if that's their
whole strength, we needn't fear their coming to close quarters. Good!"
"I can make out no more," said the young Paraense, who had suspended
paddling to get a better view of the pursuers. "I think there are no
more."
"Just my thoughts," rejoined the tapuyo. "I had that idea all along. I
was sure the small craft had gone down. You remember we heard a
splashing before we got well off,--it was caused by the sinking of the
igarites. Our hope is that only the big one has kept afloat. As yet I
see no others."
"Nor I," added Richard. "No, there are but the two."
"Thank Heaven for that!" exclaimed Trevannion. "There will be but ten
against us. Though we are not equal in numbers, surely we should be a
match for such puny savages as these. O that we only had arms!"
As he said this, the ex-miner looked into the bottom of the canoe to see
what there was available in the way of weapons. There was the pashuba
spear, which Munday had pitched in along with the strips of charqui; and
there was another weapon equally effective in hands skilled in its use.
It was a sort of barbed javelin or harpoon, the one with which the
manatee-hunter had struck the juaroua. During the day, while doing
nothing else, Munday had amused himself by completing the conquest of
the peixe-boi, which he found, by the line and float, had got entangled
among the tree-tops. Its carcass had been left where it was killed, for
it was the weapon only which he coveted. In addition to these, there
were the paddles,--those manufactured from the shoulder-blades of the
cow-fish,--looking like weapons that it would be awkward to have come in
contact with one's skull in a hostile encounter. Last, and not least to
be depended upon, there was the tapuyo's own knife, in the use of which
he had already given proofs of his skill. In a hand-to-hand contest
with ten savages, armed as these might be, there was not so much to be
dreaded.
But Munday assured them that there would be no danger of a close fight.
There were no more canoes in sight. Twenty minutes had now elapsed
since the two had shot out from the trees, and if there had been others
they would long since have declared themselves. Arrows or javelins were
the only weapons they would have to dread; and with these they would
most certainly be assailed.
"They'll be sure to overtake us," said he; "there are six of them at the
paddles, and it's easy to see that they're already gaining ground.
That's no reason why we should wait till they come up. When the fight
takes place, the farther we're away from their village the better for
us; as who knows but they may fish up some of their swamped canoes, and
come at us with a reserve force. To the paddles, then, and pull for our
lives!"
CHAPTER NINETY TWO.
THE CHASE.
On swept the igarite containing the crew of our adventurers; on came its
kindred craft, manned by savage men, with the little canoe close
following, like a tender in the wake of a huge man-of-war. They were
not long in doubt as to what would be the upshot of the chase. It had
not continued half an hour before it became clear, to pursuers as well
as pursued, that the distance between the two large igarites was
gradually growing less. Gradually, but not rapidly; for although there
were six paddles plying along the sides of the pursuers and only four on
the pursued, the rate of speed was not so very unequal.
The eight full-grown savages--no doubt the picked men of their tribe--
were more than a fair complement for their craft, that lay with gunwales
low down in the water. In size she was somewhat less than that which
carried our adventurers; and this, along with the heavier freight, was
against her. For all this, she was gaining ground sufficiently fast to
make the lessening of the distance perceptible.
The pursued kept perfect silence, for they had no spirit to be noisy.
They could not help feeling apprehensive. They knew that the moment the
enemy got within arrow's reach of them they would be in danger of death.
Well might such a thought account for their silence.
Not so with their savage pursuers. These could be in no danger unless
by their own choice. They had the advantage, and could carry on war
with perfect security to themselves. It would not be necessary for them
to risk an encounter empty-handed so long as their arrows lasted; and
they could have no fear of entering into the fight. Daring where there
was no danger, and noisy where there was no occasion, they pressed on in
the pursuit, their wild yells sent pealing across the water to strike
terror into the hearts of the enemy.
Our adventurers felt no craven fear, not a thought of surrender, not an
idea of submitting to be taken captives. By the most solemn
asseverations the tapuyo had assured them that it would be of no use,
and they need expect no mercy from the Muras. He had said so from the
first; but now, after having taken one of their number captive and
treated him with contempt, after scuttling their fleet of igarites,
their natural instinct of cruelty would be intensified by a thirst for
revenge, and no quarter need be looked for by any one who might fall
into their hands.
Remembering the hideous creature who had escaped, seeing him again in
his canoe as the pursuers came within distinguishing distance, seeing
nine of his comrades quite as hideous as himself, and some of them in
appearance far more formidable, the statement of the tapuyo did not fail
to have an effect.
The crew of the chased igarite gave up all thought of surrender, each
declaring his determination to fight to the death. Such was their mood
when the savages arrived within bowshot.
The first act of hostility was a flight of arrows, which fell short of
the mark. Seeing that the distance was too great for them to do any
havoc, the six who had been propelling the igarite dropped their bows,
and once more took to the paddles.
The other two, however, with the spare man in the little canoe, were
free to carry on their arrowy assault; and all three continued to twang
their bows, sending shaft after shaft towards the chased igarite. Only
one of the three appeared to have much skill in his aim or strength in
his arm. The arrows of the other two either fell short or wide of the
object aimed at, while his came plump into the igarite.
He had already sent three,--the first passing through the broad-spread
ear of the negro,--no mean mark; the second scratching up the skin upon
Tom's cheek; while the third, fired aloft into the air, dropped down
upon the skin of the peixe-boi that sheltered little Rosa in the bottom
of the boat, penetrating the thick, tough hide, and almost impaling the
pretty creature underneath it.
This dangerous marksman was identified. He was the hero of the
harpoon,--the captive who had given them the slip; and certain it is
that he took more pains with his aim, and put more strength into his
pull, than any of his competitors.
His fourth arrow was looked for with fearful apprehension. It came
whistling across the water. It passed through the arm of his greatest
enemy,--the man he most desired it to pierce,--the Mundurucu.
The tapuyo started up from his stooping attitude, at the same time
dropping his paddle, not upon the water, but into the igarite. The
arrow was only through the flesh. It did nothing to disable him, and he
had surrendered the oar with an exclamation of anger more than pain.
The shaft was still sticking in his left arm. With the right he pulled
it out, drawing the feather through the wound, and then flung it away.
In another instant he had taken up the harpoon, with the long cord still
attached to it, and which he had already secured to the stern of the
igarite. In still another he was seen standing near the stern,
balancing the weapon for a throw. One more instant and the barbed
javelin was heard passing with a crash through the ribs of the savage
archer! "Pull on! pull on!" cried he; and the three paddlers responded
to the cry, while the pursuing savages, astounded by what they had seen,
involuntarily suspended their stroke, and the harpooner, impaled upon
the barbed weapon, was jerked into the water and towed off after the
igarite, like one of his own floats in the wake of a cow-fish.
A wild cry was sent forth from the canoe of the savages. Nor was it
unanswered from the igarite containing the crew of civilised men. The
negro could not restrain his exultation; while Tom, who had nothing else
to do, sprang to his feet, tossed his arms into the air, and gave tongue
to the true Donnybrook Challenge.
For a time the pursuers did nothing. Their paddles were in hands that
appeared suddenly paralysed. Astonishment held them stiff as statues.
Stirred at length by the instinct of revenge, they were about to pull
on. Some had plunged their oar-blades into the water, when once more
the stroke was suspended.
They perceived that they were near enough to the retreating foe.
Nearer, and their lives would be in danger. The dead body of their
comrade had been hauled up to the stern of the great igarite. The
harpoon had been recovered, and was once more in the hands of him who
had hurled it with such fatal effect.
Dropping their bladed sticks, they again betook them to their bows. A
shower of arrows came around the igarite, but none fell with fatal
effect. The body of their best archer had gone to the bottom of the
Gapo. Another flight fell short, and the savage bowmen saw the
necessity of returning to their paddles.
Failing to do so, they would soon be distanced in the chase. This time
they rowed nearer, disregarding the dangerous range of that ponderous
projectile to which their comrade had succumbed. Rage and revenge now
rendered them reckless; and once more they seized upon their weapons.
They were now less than twenty yards from the igarite. They were
already adjusting the arrows to their bow-strings. A flight of nine
going all together could not fail to bring down one or more of the
enemy.
For the first time our adventurers were filled with fear. The bravest
could not have been otherwise. They had no defence,--nothing to shield
them from the threatening shower. All might be pierced by the barbed
shafts, already pointing towards the igarite. Each believed that in
another moment there might be an arrow through his heart.
It was a moment of terrible suspense, but our adventurers saw the
savages suddenly drop their bows, some after sending a careless shot,
with a vacillating, pusillanimous aim, and others without shooting at
all. They saw them all looking down into the bottom of their boat, as
if there, and not elsewhere, was to be seen their most dangerous enemy.
The hole cut by the knife had opened. The caulking, careless from the
haste in which it had been done, had come away. The canoe containing
the pursuers was swamped, in less than a score of seconds after the leak
had been discovered. Now there was but one large canoe upon the lagoa,
and one small one,--the latter surrounded by eight dark human heads,
each spurting and blowing, as if a small school of porpoises was at play
upon the spot.
Our adventurers had nothing further to fear from pursuit by the savages,
who would have enough to do to save their own lives; for the swim that
was before them, ere they could recover footing upon the scaffolds of
the malocca, would tax their powers to the utmost extent.
How the castaways meant to dispose of themselves was known to the crew
of the igarite before the latter had been paddled out of sight. One or
two of them were observed clinging to the little canoe, and at length
getting into it. These, weak swimmers, no doubt, were left in
possession of the craft, while the others, knowing that it could not
carry them all, were seen to turn round and swim off towards the
malocca, like rats escaping from a scuttled ship.
In twenty minutes' time, both they and the fishing-canoe were out of
sight, and the great igarite that carried Trevannion and his fortunes
was alone upon the lagoa.
CHAPTER NINETY THREE.
CONCLUSION.
A volume might be filled with the various incidents and adventures that
befell the ex-miner and his people before they arrived at Gran Para,--
for at Gran Para, did they at length arrive. But as these bore a
certain resemblance to those already detailed, the reader is spared the
relation of them. A word only as to how they got out of the Gapo.
Provided with the Indian igarite, which, though a rude kind of craft,
was a great improvement upon the dead-wood,--provided also with four
tolerable paddles, and the skin of the cow-fish for a sail,--they felt
secure of being able to navigate the flooded forest in any direction
where open water might be found.
Their first thought was to get out of the lagoa. So long as they
remained within the boundaries of that piece of open water, so long
would their solicitude be keen and continuous. The savages might again
come in search of them. Prompted by their cannibal instincts, or by
revenge for the loss of one of their tribe, they would be almost certain
to do so. The total destruction of their fleet might cause delay. But
then there might be another malocca belonging to a kindred tribe,--
another fleet of igarites not far off; and this might be made available.
With these probabilities in view, our adventurers gave their whole
attention to getting clear of the lagoa. Was it land-locked, or rather
"tree-locked,"--hemmed in on all sides by the flooded forest? This was
a question that no one could answer, though it was the one that was of
first and greatest importance.
After the termination of the chase, however, or as soon as they believed
themselves out of sight, not only of their foiled foemen, but their
friends at the malocca, they changed their course, steering the igarite
almost at right angles to the line of pursuit.
By guidance of the hand of God, they steered in the right direction. As
soon as they came within sight of the trees, they perceived a wide
water-way opening out of the lagoa, and running with a clear line to the
horizon beyond. Through this they directed the igarite, and, favoured
by a breeze blowing right upon their stern, they rigged up their rude
sail. With this to assist their paddling, they made good speed, and had
soon left the lagoa many miles behind them.
They saw no more of the Muras. But though safe, as they supposed
themselves, from pursuit, and no longer uneasy about the ape-like
Indians, they were still very far from being delivered. They were yet
in the Gapo,--that wilderness of water-forests,--yet exposed to its
thousands of dangers.
They found themselves in a labyrinth of what appeared to be lakes, with
land around them, and islands scattered over their surface,
communicating with each other by canals or straits, all bordered with a
heavy forest. But they knew there was no land,--nothing but tree-tops
laced together with llianas, and supporting heavy masses of parasitical
plants.