"Why are you doing that?" said my uncle.
"_Pee-wee_!" came the cry again.
"_Pee-wee_!" I whistled, and then I shouted aloud, "All right!
Steamer's gone."
There was the cracking of twigs and a loud rustling sound, followed by
the sight of Pete, who crept out from among the bushes, hot, panting,
and with face and hands terribly scratched.
"Sure she's gone, Master Nat?" he said dolefully.
"Sure? Yes," I cried. "It wasn't our ship at all."
"There, I knowed it warn't all the time, only Bill Cross said he was
sure it were. Here, come out! Way he! it's all right."
The carpenter forced his way out of the jungle soon after, glaring at
Pete.
"Here," he cried gruffly, "what d'ye mean by scaring a fellow like
that?"
"It warn't me," cried Pete. "You said it was our ship coming after us."
"Never mind, now," said my uncle. "Set the fire going again, and get
yourselves some breakfast; but don't be in such a hurry to take fright
next time. We'd better have our dinner at the same time, Nat; and if
there's any wind this evening we'll sail southward."
There was plenty of wind, and so quite early in the afternoon the anchor
was placed on board, Pete tucked up his trousers and ran the boat out,
and then scrambled in to help with the sail. Then, as the boat careened
over and glided away, he and his companion gave a hearty cheer.
We sailed along the coast southward for days and days, always finding
plenty to interest and a few specimens worth shooting, both Bill and
Pete looking on with the most intense interest at the skinning and
preserving, till one day the latter said confidently:
"I could do that, Mr Nat."
"Very well," I said; "you shall try with one of the next birds I shoot."
"At last," cried my uncle a day or two later, and, seizing the tiller,
he steered the boat straight for a wide opening and into what seemed to
be a lake, so surrounded were we by tropical trees.
But the current we met soon showed that we were at the mouth of a
good-sized river, and the wind being in our favour, we ran up it a dozen
miles or so before evening.
For a long time the shores right and left had been closing in, and our
progress growing slower, for the forest, which had been at some
distance, now came down to the water's edge, the trees were bigger, and
for the last two miles we had sailed very slowly, shut in as we were by
the great walls of verdure which towered far above the top of our mast
and completely shut out the wind.
Fortunately, the river was deep and sluggish so that progression was
comparatively easy, and every hundred yards displayed something tempting
to so ardent a naturalist as my uncle.
Not always pleasant, though, for the sluggish waters swarmed with huge
alligators, and every now and then one plunged in from the bank with a
mighty splash.
Some of the first we saw were approached innocently enough--for to
unaccustomed eyes they looked like muddy logs floating down stream, and
Pete laughed at me when I told him to lift his oar as we passed one so
drowsy that it paid no heed.
"Raise your oar-blade," I said, as we glided along, "or that brute may
turn angry and upset us."
I was sitting holding the tiller, steering, and Bill Cross held the
other oar, while my uncle, tired out by a tramp ashore, was lying down
forward, fast asleep, in the shadow cast by the sail, which kept on
filling and flapping--for in the reach we had now entered the wind was
hardly felt.
"I never saw a tree run at a boat, Master Nat," said Pete, as he raised
his oar-blade. But before we had half passed the sleeping reptile the
boy gave it a sudden chop on the back, and then, horrified by the
consequence of his act, he started up in his place, plunged overboard
into the deep, muddy water on the other side, and disappeared.
For a moment or two I thought that we were all going to follow, for the
reptile struck the boat a tremendous blow with its tail as it plunged
down, raising the river in waves and eddies, and making our craft dance
so that the water nearly came over the side, and we all clung to the
nearest object to our hands.
"What's that?" cried my uncle.
"Alligator," I said, in a startled tone.
"Where's the boy?"
"Gone overboard."
"Not seized by one of the loathsome monsters?"
"Oh, no, sir," said Bill, who looked rather startled. "He chopped it,
and it scared him over the side."
"Well, where is he?" cried my uncle, appealing to me, while I looked
vainly over the surface, which was now settling down.
"I--I don't know," I stammered. "He went over somewhere here."
"But where did he come up?" cried my uncle. "Haven't you seen him?"
I was silent, for a terrible feeling of dread kept me from speaking, and
my uncle turned to the carpenter.
"No, sir, I haven't seen him," was the reply.
"Let the boat drift down. Don't pull, man, you're sending us over to
the other side. Stop a moment."
My uncle hurriedly took Pete's place, seized the oar that was swinging
from the rowlock, and began to pull so as to keep the boat from
drifting, while I steered.
"Hadn't you better let her go down a bit, sir?" said the carpenter. "He
may be drifting, and will come up lower."
"But the lad could swim," said my uncle, as I began to feel a horrible
chill which made my hands grow clammy.
"Swim? Yes, sir--like a seal. I'm getting skeart. One of they great
lizardy things must have got him."
"Cease rowing!" cried my uncle, and he followed my example of standing
up in the boat and scanning the surface, including the nearest shore--
that on our left, where the trees came right down to the water.
They stopped together, and let the boat drift slowly with the current
downward and backward, till all at once there was a light puff of hot
wind which filled the sail, and we mastered the current, once more
gliding slowly up stream, with the water pattering against the sides and
bows.
But there was no sign of Pete, and having failed to take any bearings,
or to remember by marks on the shore whereabouts he had gone down, we
were quite at fault, so that when the wind failed again and the boat
drifted back, it was impossible to say where we had seen the last of the
poor lad.
I felt choking. Something seemed to rise in my throat, and I could only
sit there dumb and motionless, till all at once, as the wind sprang up
again, filled the sail, and the boat heeled over, the necessity of doing
something to steer her and keep her in the right direction sent a thrill
through me, and I did what I ought to have done before.
For, as the water rattled again under the bows and we glided on, I
shouted aloud--
"Pete, lad, where are you?"
"Ahoy!" came from a distance higher up, farther than we could have
deemed possible after so much sailing.
"Hooray!" shouted the carpenter. "Why he's got ashore yonder."
"Where did the hail come from, Nat?" said my uncle, with a sigh of
relief.
"Seemed to be from among the trees a hundred yards forward there to the
left."
"Run her close in, then, and hail, my lad," he cried.
He had hardly spoken before the wind failed again, and they bent to
their oars.
"Where are you, Pete?" I shouted.
"Here, among the trees," came back, and I steered the boat in the
direction, eagerly searching the great green wall of verdure, but seeing
nothing save a bird or two.
"Are you ashore?" I shouted.
"Nay! It's all water underneath me. Come on, sir. Here I am."
A few more strokes of the oars ran us close in beneath the pendent
boughs, and the next minute the carpenter caught hold of one of the
overhanging branches and kept the boat there, while Pete descended from
where he had climbed, to lower himself into the boat and sit down
shivering and dripping.
"Thought he'd got me, sir," he said, looking white. "I dived down,
though, and only come up once, but dove again so as to come up under the
trees; and then I found a place where I could pull myself up. It was
precious hard, though. I kep' 'specting one of 'em would pull me back,
till I was up yonder; and it arn't safe there."
"Why not?" I said.
"There's great monkeys yonder, and the biggest snake I ever see, Master
Nat."
"But did you not see the boat? Didn't you see us hunting for you?" said
my uncle angrily.
"No, sir; I had all I could do to swim to one of the trees, diving down
so as the 'gators shouldn't see me; and when I did get up into the tree,
you'd gone back down the river, so that I couldn't see nothing of you."
"But why didn't you shout, Pete?" said the carpenter. "Everyone's been
afraid you was drowned."
"Who was going to shout when there was a great snake curled up in knots
like a ship's fender right over your head? Think I wanted to wake him
up? Then there was two great monkeys."
"Great monkeys!" said my uncle. "Pray, how big were they?"
"Dunno, sir, but they looked a tidy size, and whenever I moved they
begun to make faces and call me names."
"What did they call you, Pete?" I said.
"I dunno, Master Nat. You see, it was all furren, and I couldn't
understand it; but one of 'em was horrid howdacious: he ran along a
bough till he was right over my head, and then he took hold with his
tail and swung himself to and fro and chattered, and said he'd drop on
my head if I dared to move."
"Are you sure he said that, Pete?" said my uncle drily.
"Well, sir, I can't be quite sure, because I couldn't understand him;
but it seemed something like that."
"Yes, but I'm afraid there was a good deal of imagination in it, Pete,
and that you have bad eyes."
"Oh, no, sir," said Pete; "my eyes are all right."
"They cannot be," said my uncle; "they must magnify terribly. Now then,
take off your wet clothes, wring them out, and hang them up in the sun,
while we look after this huge serpent and the gigantic monkeys. Draw
the boat along by the boughs, Cross, till we can look through that
opening. Be ready with your gun, Nat. Put in a couple of those
swanshot cartridges. You shall do the shooting."
I hurriedly changed the charges in my double gun and sat in my place,
looking up eagerly, trying to pierce the green twilight and tangle of
crossing boughs, while Pete slowly slipped off his dripping shirt and
trousers, watching me the while.
"See anything yet?" said my uncle, as he helped Cross to push the boat
along, pulling the boughs aside, which forced him to lower the sail and
unship the mast.
"No, uncle; the boughs are too thick--yes--yes, I can see a monkey
hanging by his tail."
"A six-footer? Bring him down, then. We must have his skin."
"Six-footer? No!" I said. "It's about as big as a fat baby."
"I thought so," said my uncle. "Never mind the poor little thing;
look-out for the monstrous snake. I daresay it's one of the anacondas
crept up out of the river. See it?"
"No, uncle; but there might be a dozen up there."
"Keep on looking. You must see it if it's as big as Pete here says.
Was it close to the trunk, my lad?"
"Not very, sir; it was just out a little way, where the boughs spread
out."
"I see it!" I cried. "Keep the boat quite still. It's curled up all
in a knot."
"A hundred feet long?" said my uncle, laughing.
"Not quite, uncle."
"Well, fifty?"
"I don't think so, uncle."
"Five-and-twenty, then?"
"Oh, no," I said; "it's rather hard to tell, because of the way she
folds double about; but I should think it's twelve feet long."
"I thought so," said my uncle. "Pete, you'll have to wear diminishing
glasses."
"That aren't the one, sir," said Pete gruffly.
"Shall I shoot, uncle?"
"No; we don't want the skin, and it would be a very unpleasant task to
take it off. Push off, Cross, and let's go up the stream. I want to
get to clearer parts, where we can land and make some excursions."
Pete hung his head when I looked at him, but he said no more, and a
couple of hours after, with his clothes thoroughly dry, he was helping
to navigate the boat, rowing, poling, and managing the sail till night
fell, when we once more moored to a great tree trunk, as we had made a
practice all the way up, and slept in safety on board, with the strange
noises of the forest all around.