Chapter Forty Six.Taking Flight.It was with a feeling of thankfulness that can be well understood that we returned once more to the small cavern, to seek the rest and refreshment of which we were all so much in need.The words of encouragement we were able to utter respecting our present safety were most thoroughly needed, while the lights we now ventured to burn took off something of the sense of oppression caused by the darkness.Our arrangements were soon made for one to be always on guard, and trusting to the dread of the Indians for our safety in other directions, we gladly partook of the welcome rest.At the end of some hours we were seated together to consult upon our future operations, and arrived at the decision that the sooner we set off the better, and the next night was fixed upon for our departure.“You see, Harry,” said my uncle, “that the difficulty is in journeying through the forest; if once we can strike a stream, the rest is easy.”“Or would be if we had boats, uncle, or—”I stopped short, for I had recalled the skin-raft once more, and the possibility of increasing its size. As my uncle had said, if once we could hit upon a good stream, the rest would be easy, floating ever downward from stream to river, and from river to one of the great waterways.Then came the subject of the treasure.“But are you sure that you have it safe?” said my uncle anxiously.“As safe, Uncle, as I soon hope to have our other treasures,” I said, cheerfully.A visit to the mouth of the cave showed that all was still, and the valley to all appearance deserted.But our walk was not unprofitable, for we were able to collect a good bundle of pine-wood for torches, left behind by the Indians—brightly burning, resinous wood, which cast a powerful light when in use.We found Tom watching his prisoner on our return, and my aunt and Lilla ready to welcome us gladly. But not a sigh was uttered—not a question as to when they might expect to escape; they were patience exemplified.As to the prisoner, Tom said that he was as sulky as a bear with a sore head. It was a great tie upon us, but upon retaining him in safety rested our success; for it seemed evident that the Indians believed that their share in the matter was at an end, and had gone away strengthened in their belief that it was death to him who penetrated the mysterious portion of the cave, sacred to the thunder god, Garcia not having returned.My uncle relieved Tom—not to rest, but to aid me in seeking to recover the treasure; but upon a second consideration it was determined not to proceed further until the next morning.Watching and sleeping in turns, the next morning arrived, and we once more journeyed to the mouth of the cave.All in the vale was silent as the grave; not a leaf rustling.On returning, the mules were well fed, only leaving one more portion. We breakfasted, and the prisoner, compelled at last by hunger, condescended to partake of some food; when we afterwards moved to a narrow part, where our proceedings were to him invisible.A rather anxious question now arose: what were we to do with him?We could not leave him bound, to die of starvation in the darkness of the cavern; humanity forbade the thought for an instant. We could not take him with us, neither could we take his life in cold blood, even though our safety depended upon it.“We must take him a part of the way, and then leave him in some track, where there is a possibility of his being found,” said my uncle. “He ought to die, Harry; but we cannot turn murderers.”It was evident that our prisoner did not expect much mercy; for we could see that his face was absolutely livid when, pistol in hand, either of us approached to examine his bonds; and once, in his abject dread, he shrieked aloud to Lilla to come and save him from me.My uncle’s seemed the only plan that we could adopt; and leaving him in charge, Tom and I fixed our light at the head of the raft, and, to the horror of Lilla and Mrs Landell, set off upon our subterranean voyage—one which produced no tremor in us now, for familiarity had bred contempt.The passage was safely traversed till we came to the hiding-place of the treasure, when, after a few attempts to fish up the packages, we found that there was no resource but for one of us to plunge boldly into the icy water.Tom would have gone, but I felt that it was my turn; and after divesting myself of my clothing I lowered myself over the side of the raft, waded a little, and then, after a few tries, succeeded in bringing up, one at a time, the whole of the treasure. Then, with a little contriving, I once more obtained a place upon the heavily-weighted raft, dressed, and we floated back in triumph to where, torch in hand, stood Lilla gazing anxiously along the dark tunnel, and ready to give a joyous cry as she saw our safe return.I sent Tom to relieve my uncle’s guard, and he hurried excitedly to my side and helped me to unload.“Harry, my boy,” he exclaimed huskily as we lifted the packages on to the rocks, “I can hardly believe it. Is it true?”I smiled in his face, and then with more rope we bound the packages securely before leaving them to drain off the water.Our next act was to carefully take the raft to pieces and save the bands by which it was secured. This was no easy task, for the water had saturated and tightened the fastenings, which we did not cut, because they would be extremely valuable in fastening it together again.It proved to be a very, very long job, but we worked at it with all our might, knowing as we did that our future depended upon our getting the pieces of our pontoon safely with us to some stream, where we could fit it once more together and use it to help in floating down to a place of refuge.“It’s a rum job, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom. “My word, if these knots weren’t well tied! I never thought about having to undo it over again.”“Never mind, Tom; work away,” I cried.“Oh! Ah! I’ll work away,” he replied. “That’s better! That’s one of ’em. They won’t bear the lot, Mas’r Harry, when we fits it together again?”“If the raft is not strong enough, Tom, we must make it stronger,” I said; and he gave a grunt and worked away, tugging at the knots and very often using his teeth.At last, though, we had all the ties secured together in a bunch ready for immediate use—the poles bound in small bundles, and the skins fastened together by their necks, they having the advantage of being very light.Then followed a pause for rest and refreshment, with a short consultation between my uncle and me as to our plans, which resulted in a busy hour at work, two of the mules being laden then with the gold.This was a very difficult task, as the packages were so awkward and heavy, the object being to make them secure against any antic on the part of the mules if they became restive, and also to guard against the corners of the plates rubbing the animals’ backs.“I’d give anything to open those bags, Harry,” said my uncle. “I feel as curious as a boy.”“Take my word for it, Uncle,” I replied, “that they are wonderful treasures. Come, I’ll make a bargain with you.”“What is it, my boy?”“You shall do the unpacking and the breaking up when we set to in safety, and melt them down into ingots.”“If we ever have the chance,” he said sadly.“Don’t be down-hearted, Uncle,” I cried cheerily. “Recollect we are English, and Englishmen never know the meaning of the word ‘fail.’”“True, my boy,” he replied; “but we have our work before us.”“And that’s just the work we mean to get done,” said Tom, interposing his opinion. “And now just you look here, moke,” he continued, addressing the mule he was helping to load—one which kept on laying down its ears and showing its teeth as if it meant to bite—“here am I a-doing all I can to make your load easy and comfortable for your ugly back, and you’re saying you’re a-going to bite. Am I to kick you in the ribs? ’Cause if you’re not quiet I just will.”The mule seemed to understand either Tom’s words or the threatening movement of his foot, for it allowed itself to be loaded in peace; and soon after the valuable treasure was declared to be quite safe, though I knew perfectly well that any violent fit of kicking on the part of the obstinate beasts must result in the whole being dislodged.The next task was to apportion the remainder of our extremely reduced stock of provision between the two mules that my aunt and Lilla were to ride; and upon these mules, on the off-side away from the stirrup, I proposed to secure the light poles and skins of the raft.“They will be very awkward going amongst the trees,” I said, “but it is the best we can do.”“Why not carry them?” said my uncle.“Because we must have our hands free to use our weapons,” I replied.“True, my lad,” he said, “and we might have to drop and not recover them.”“They’ll be no end of a bother for the ladies, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom. “Lookye here: they sticks ’ll ride as comf’able as can be atop of the gold bags. Why not have ’em here?”“Because, Tom, it may be necessary to leave the gold bags behind, and we shall want the raft to escape.”“Leave the gold behind, Mas’r Harry!” he cried; “not if I know it.”“Life is worth more than gold, Tom,” I said in reply.Tom made no answer. He only set his teeth very hard, and the skins and poles were secured just as I wished.Towards evening, according to arrangement, Tom led the way with one of the gold mules; my uncle followed leading another and bearing a light, and the others required no inducement to keep close behind.Garcia must have imagined that he was to be left to starve, for he did not see me as I stood back listening to the pattering of the mules’ feet upon the hard rock, and the silence that fell directly after when they touched sand; and, raising his voice, he gave so wild and despairing a shriek that my uncle came hurrying back.“Harry, my dear lad, surely you have not—”“No, Uncle,” I said contemptuously, “I had not even spoken. It was his coward heart that smote him.”Loosening his legs, which of late we had slackened so as to guard against numbness, we made him rise; and then forcing my arm under his, I led him along till we overtook the last mule bearing my aunt; and then our slow, dark journey was continued till, nearing the entrance, the lights were extinguished and my uncle, taking Tom’s place as leader, the latter stole forward, and returned in half an hour to say that the sun had set, and that though he had watched long and carefully from the very mouth of the cave, there was nothing to be seen.We went forward then, to rest for fully an hour in the cavern close now to the barrier, for the darkness fell swiftly into the ravine, rolling, as it were, down the mountain-sides; and then, with beating hearts, we prepared to start, our course being along the little valley to the entrance, and then, according to my uncle’s plans, as nearly south-east as we could travel until we could hit upon a stream.The time for starting at length came, and after a little further consultation Garcia was once more carefully secured and laid upon his back in the mouth of the cave, that being the only plan we could adopt; and then, panting with excitement, each man with all his weapons ready for immediate action, we started in single file and began to move down the ravine.The darkness was intense, and but for the sagacity of the leading mule our progress would have been slow indeed; but the patient brute went on at a quiet, regular pace, and his fellows followed, the breathing of the animals and the slight rustle through the herbage being all that smote the ear.I should think that we had gone about a quarter of a mile, straining our eyes to catch sight of an enemy on either side as we made our way through what was like a dense bank of darkness, when, loud and clear upon the night air, rang out a wild, strange cry, which made us instinctively stop to listen.Twice more it rang out, evidently distant, but still plainly heard as it echoed along the ravine.“It is some beast of prey, but it will not come near us,” said my uncle, to encourage Mrs Landell.“Harry, what is it?” whispered Lilla.Her soft arm was passed round my neck as she clung, trembling, to me, unable to master her agitation.“We must push on,” I said.Once more the mules were in motion when the cry rang out again, louder and clearer this time.I did not answer Lilla’s question, for I thought it better not; but I had my own thoughts upon the subject, and I was wondering whether my uncle suspected the meaning of the cry, when I was startled by a voice which seemed to rise out of the darkness.“Mas’r Harry—Mas’r Harry! I shall never forgive myself. Only to think of me being the one as tied the last knot, and then never to think of gagging him. He’ll be there shouting till he brings down all the Indians within twenty miles. Let’s make haste, for I sha’n’t breathe till we get out of this great long furrer here.”The darkness was still so thick that we could hardly see the bushes against which we brushed, while even when passing beneath dense masses of foliage there seemed to be no difference. A hundred enemies might have been right in front of us, and we should have walked right into their midst.It was a daring adventure; but it was only by keeping on that we could hope to escape, and if the black darkness did not prove our friend until we were clear of the ravine, I felt that we could hardly hope to get away.The cries still continued at intervals; but now every cry only seemed to nerve us to greater exertion, and at last they sounded but faintly, as, under the impression that we were now past the entrance to the rift, I was about to tell Tom to try and bear off to the right, if the undergrowth would allow. We had all drawn up, and the mules were reaching down their heads, tempted by the dewy grass, when Tom gave a warning whisper; and directly after, just to our left, came the sound of bodies moving through the bushes, coming nearer and nearer, till about abreast, when they turned off again, and seemed to be proceeding up the ravine towards the cavern.It was a painful five minutes as we stood there, trembling lest one of the mules should shake buckle or strap; for no one there, on afterwards comparing notes, had a doubt as to the cause of the sounds. It was evidently a body of some half dozen men making their way as fast as the darkness would allow, and it was not until all was once more quiet that we could again breathe freely, and continue our journey as swiftly as we could pass through the trees.We had no difficulty in journeying to the right, and it soon became evident that we were out of the rift; but I had very little hope of our being able to continue in a straight line, seeking the direction where we expected to find a river.Our progress was necessarily slow, but every half mile, we all felt, was that distance nearer to safety. I was hopeful, too, about our trail; the dew fell heavily, and that and the elastic nature of the growth through which we passed, would, I thought, possibly conceal our track from those who might try to follow it.And so we journeyed on through that thick darkness, till the first grey dawn of day found us still hurrying through the dripping foliage, heavy everywhere with the moisture deposited during the night.
It was with a feeling of thankfulness that can be well understood that we returned once more to the small cavern, to seek the rest and refreshment of which we were all so much in need.
The words of encouragement we were able to utter respecting our present safety were most thoroughly needed, while the lights we now ventured to burn took off something of the sense of oppression caused by the darkness.
Our arrangements were soon made for one to be always on guard, and trusting to the dread of the Indians for our safety in other directions, we gladly partook of the welcome rest.
At the end of some hours we were seated together to consult upon our future operations, and arrived at the decision that the sooner we set off the better, and the next night was fixed upon for our departure.
“You see, Harry,” said my uncle, “that the difficulty is in journeying through the forest; if once we can strike a stream, the rest is easy.”
“Or would be if we had boats, uncle, or—”
I stopped short, for I had recalled the skin-raft once more, and the possibility of increasing its size. As my uncle had said, if once we could hit upon a good stream, the rest would be easy, floating ever downward from stream to river, and from river to one of the great waterways.
Then came the subject of the treasure.
“But are you sure that you have it safe?” said my uncle anxiously.
“As safe, Uncle, as I soon hope to have our other treasures,” I said, cheerfully.
A visit to the mouth of the cave showed that all was still, and the valley to all appearance deserted.
But our walk was not unprofitable, for we were able to collect a good bundle of pine-wood for torches, left behind by the Indians—brightly burning, resinous wood, which cast a powerful light when in use.
We found Tom watching his prisoner on our return, and my aunt and Lilla ready to welcome us gladly. But not a sigh was uttered—not a question as to when they might expect to escape; they were patience exemplified.
As to the prisoner, Tom said that he was as sulky as a bear with a sore head. It was a great tie upon us, but upon retaining him in safety rested our success; for it seemed evident that the Indians believed that their share in the matter was at an end, and had gone away strengthened in their belief that it was death to him who penetrated the mysterious portion of the cave, sacred to the thunder god, Garcia not having returned.
My uncle relieved Tom—not to rest, but to aid me in seeking to recover the treasure; but upon a second consideration it was determined not to proceed further until the next morning.
Watching and sleeping in turns, the next morning arrived, and we once more journeyed to the mouth of the cave.
All in the vale was silent as the grave; not a leaf rustling.
On returning, the mules were well fed, only leaving one more portion. We breakfasted, and the prisoner, compelled at last by hunger, condescended to partake of some food; when we afterwards moved to a narrow part, where our proceedings were to him invisible.
A rather anxious question now arose: what were we to do with him?
We could not leave him bound, to die of starvation in the darkness of the cavern; humanity forbade the thought for an instant. We could not take him with us, neither could we take his life in cold blood, even though our safety depended upon it.
“We must take him a part of the way, and then leave him in some track, where there is a possibility of his being found,” said my uncle. “He ought to die, Harry; but we cannot turn murderers.”
It was evident that our prisoner did not expect much mercy; for we could see that his face was absolutely livid when, pistol in hand, either of us approached to examine his bonds; and once, in his abject dread, he shrieked aloud to Lilla to come and save him from me.
My uncle’s seemed the only plan that we could adopt; and leaving him in charge, Tom and I fixed our light at the head of the raft, and, to the horror of Lilla and Mrs Landell, set off upon our subterranean voyage—one which produced no tremor in us now, for familiarity had bred contempt.
The passage was safely traversed till we came to the hiding-place of the treasure, when, after a few attempts to fish up the packages, we found that there was no resource but for one of us to plunge boldly into the icy water.
Tom would have gone, but I felt that it was my turn; and after divesting myself of my clothing I lowered myself over the side of the raft, waded a little, and then, after a few tries, succeeded in bringing up, one at a time, the whole of the treasure. Then, with a little contriving, I once more obtained a place upon the heavily-weighted raft, dressed, and we floated back in triumph to where, torch in hand, stood Lilla gazing anxiously along the dark tunnel, and ready to give a joyous cry as she saw our safe return.
I sent Tom to relieve my uncle’s guard, and he hurried excitedly to my side and helped me to unload.
“Harry, my boy,” he exclaimed huskily as we lifted the packages on to the rocks, “I can hardly believe it. Is it true?”
I smiled in his face, and then with more rope we bound the packages securely before leaving them to drain off the water.
Our next act was to carefully take the raft to pieces and save the bands by which it was secured. This was no easy task, for the water had saturated and tightened the fastenings, which we did not cut, because they would be extremely valuable in fastening it together again.
It proved to be a very, very long job, but we worked at it with all our might, knowing as we did that our future depended upon our getting the pieces of our pontoon safely with us to some stream, where we could fit it once more together and use it to help in floating down to a place of refuge.
“It’s a rum job, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom. “My word, if these knots weren’t well tied! I never thought about having to undo it over again.”
“Never mind, Tom; work away,” I cried.
“Oh! Ah! I’ll work away,” he replied. “That’s better! That’s one of ’em. They won’t bear the lot, Mas’r Harry, when we fits it together again?”
“If the raft is not strong enough, Tom, we must make it stronger,” I said; and he gave a grunt and worked away, tugging at the knots and very often using his teeth.
At last, though, we had all the ties secured together in a bunch ready for immediate use—the poles bound in small bundles, and the skins fastened together by their necks, they having the advantage of being very light.
Then followed a pause for rest and refreshment, with a short consultation between my uncle and me as to our plans, which resulted in a busy hour at work, two of the mules being laden then with the gold.
This was a very difficult task, as the packages were so awkward and heavy, the object being to make them secure against any antic on the part of the mules if they became restive, and also to guard against the corners of the plates rubbing the animals’ backs.
“I’d give anything to open those bags, Harry,” said my uncle. “I feel as curious as a boy.”
“Take my word for it, Uncle,” I replied, “that they are wonderful treasures. Come, I’ll make a bargain with you.”
“What is it, my boy?”
“You shall do the unpacking and the breaking up when we set to in safety, and melt them down into ingots.”
“If we ever have the chance,” he said sadly.
“Don’t be down-hearted, Uncle,” I cried cheerily. “Recollect we are English, and Englishmen never know the meaning of the word ‘fail.’”
“True, my boy,” he replied; “but we have our work before us.”
“And that’s just the work we mean to get done,” said Tom, interposing his opinion. “And now just you look here, moke,” he continued, addressing the mule he was helping to load—one which kept on laying down its ears and showing its teeth as if it meant to bite—“here am I a-doing all I can to make your load easy and comfortable for your ugly back, and you’re saying you’re a-going to bite. Am I to kick you in the ribs? ’Cause if you’re not quiet I just will.”
The mule seemed to understand either Tom’s words or the threatening movement of his foot, for it allowed itself to be loaded in peace; and soon after the valuable treasure was declared to be quite safe, though I knew perfectly well that any violent fit of kicking on the part of the obstinate beasts must result in the whole being dislodged.
The next task was to apportion the remainder of our extremely reduced stock of provision between the two mules that my aunt and Lilla were to ride; and upon these mules, on the off-side away from the stirrup, I proposed to secure the light poles and skins of the raft.
“They will be very awkward going amongst the trees,” I said, “but it is the best we can do.”
“Why not carry them?” said my uncle.
“Because we must have our hands free to use our weapons,” I replied.
“True, my lad,” he said, “and we might have to drop and not recover them.”
“They’ll be no end of a bother for the ladies, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom. “Lookye here: they sticks ’ll ride as comf’able as can be atop of the gold bags. Why not have ’em here?”
“Because, Tom, it may be necessary to leave the gold bags behind, and we shall want the raft to escape.”
“Leave the gold behind, Mas’r Harry!” he cried; “not if I know it.”
“Life is worth more than gold, Tom,” I said in reply.
Tom made no answer. He only set his teeth very hard, and the skins and poles were secured just as I wished.
Towards evening, according to arrangement, Tom led the way with one of the gold mules; my uncle followed leading another and bearing a light, and the others required no inducement to keep close behind.
Garcia must have imagined that he was to be left to starve, for he did not see me as I stood back listening to the pattering of the mules’ feet upon the hard rock, and the silence that fell directly after when they touched sand; and, raising his voice, he gave so wild and despairing a shriek that my uncle came hurrying back.
“Harry, my dear lad, surely you have not—”
“No, Uncle,” I said contemptuously, “I had not even spoken. It was his coward heart that smote him.”
Loosening his legs, which of late we had slackened so as to guard against numbness, we made him rise; and then forcing my arm under his, I led him along till we overtook the last mule bearing my aunt; and then our slow, dark journey was continued till, nearing the entrance, the lights were extinguished and my uncle, taking Tom’s place as leader, the latter stole forward, and returned in half an hour to say that the sun had set, and that though he had watched long and carefully from the very mouth of the cave, there was nothing to be seen.
We went forward then, to rest for fully an hour in the cavern close now to the barrier, for the darkness fell swiftly into the ravine, rolling, as it were, down the mountain-sides; and then, with beating hearts, we prepared to start, our course being along the little valley to the entrance, and then, according to my uncle’s plans, as nearly south-east as we could travel until we could hit upon a stream.
The time for starting at length came, and after a little further consultation Garcia was once more carefully secured and laid upon his back in the mouth of the cave, that being the only plan we could adopt; and then, panting with excitement, each man with all his weapons ready for immediate action, we started in single file and began to move down the ravine.
The darkness was intense, and but for the sagacity of the leading mule our progress would have been slow indeed; but the patient brute went on at a quiet, regular pace, and his fellows followed, the breathing of the animals and the slight rustle through the herbage being all that smote the ear.
I should think that we had gone about a quarter of a mile, straining our eyes to catch sight of an enemy on either side as we made our way through what was like a dense bank of darkness, when, loud and clear upon the night air, rang out a wild, strange cry, which made us instinctively stop to listen.
Twice more it rang out, evidently distant, but still plainly heard as it echoed along the ravine.
“It is some beast of prey, but it will not come near us,” said my uncle, to encourage Mrs Landell.
“Harry, what is it?” whispered Lilla.
Her soft arm was passed round my neck as she clung, trembling, to me, unable to master her agitation.
“We must push on,” I said.
Once more the mules were in motion when the cry rang out again, louder and clearer this time.
I did not answer Lilla’s question, for I thought it better not; but I had my own thoughts upon the subject, and I was wondering whether my uncle suspected the meaning of the cry, when I was startled by a voice which seemed to rise out of the darkness.
“Mas’r Harry—Mas’r Harry! I shall never forgive myself. Only to think of me being the one as tied the last knot, and then never to think of gagging him. He’ll be there shouting till he brings down all the Indians within twenty miles. Let’s make haste, for I sha’n’t breathe till we get out of this great long furrer here.”
The darkness was still so thick that we could hardly see the bushes against which we brushed, while even when passing beneath dense masses of foliage there seemed to be no difference. A hundred enemies might have been right in front of us, and we should have walked right into their midst.
It was a daring adventure; but it was only by keeping on that we could hope to escape, and if the black darkness did not prove our friend until we were clear of the ravine, I felt that we could hardly hope to get away.
The cries still continued at intervals; but now every cry only seemed to nerve us to greater exertion, and at last they sounded but faintly, as, under the impression that we were now past the entrance to the rift, I was about to tell Tom to try and bear off to the right, if the undergrowth would allow. We had all drawn up, and the mules were reaching down their heads, tempted by the dewy grass, when Tom gave a warning whisper; and directly after, just to our left, came the sound of bodies moving through the bushes, coming nearer and nearer, till about abreast, when they turned off again, and seemed to be proceeding up the ravine towards the cavern.
It was a painful five minutes as we stood there, trembling lest one of the mules should shake buckle or strap; for no one there, on afterwards comparing notes, had a doubt as to the cause of the sounds. It was evidently a body of some half dozen men making their way as fast as the darkness would allow, and it was not until all was once more quiet that we could again breathe freely, and continue our journey as swiftly as we could pass through the trees.
We had no difficulty in journeying to the right, and it soon became evident that we were out of the rift; but I had very little hope of our being able to continue in a straight line, seeking the direction where we expected to find a river.
Our progress was necessarily slow, but every half mile, we all felt, was that distance nearer to safety. I was hopeful, too, about our trail; the dew fell heavily, and that and the elastic nature of the growth through which we passed, would, I thought, possibly conceal our track from those who might try to follow it.
And so we journeyed on through that thick darkness, till the first grey dawn of day found us still hurrying through the dripping foliage, heavy everywhere with the moisture deposited during the night.
Chapter Forty Seven.On the River’s Brink.“Now we can see what we’re about, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom cheerfully. “Look, there’s the first peep of where the sun’s coming, and if we’d been boxing the compass all night we couldn’t have been trundling more south-easter than we are. Hooroar, Miss Lilla, keep up your sperrits, and we shall soon be all right.”Lilla smiled a response, and, cheered by the bright day, we made good progress during the next two hours before the mules began to flag, when, letting them graze, we made a short and hasty meal ourselves, each eye scanning the forest round for enemies, such as we knew might spring up at any moment.An hour’s rest taken of necessity, and then we were once more journeying on, hopeful that we might soon strike upon one of the tributaries of the great stream fed by the eternal snow of the mountains; but hours went by, and no sign of river appeared, till suddenly, Tom, who was in advance, said softly:“Here’s water somewhere, not far off, Mas’r Landell, for my mule’s cocking his nose up, and sniffing at a fine rate.”There was no doubt of its being the case, for no sooner had Tom’s beast given evidence of its power of scent, than similar manifestations followed from the others; and now, instead of nagging and labouring along, the hot and wearied beasts broke into a trot, and had to be restrained as they tugged at the bridles.The character of the undergrowth now, too, began to indicate moisture, and that floods sometimes swept along the low flat jungle, where we with some difficulty forced our way; and at last, almost overcome by the heat and excitement, we came suddenly upon one of the broad sluggish streams that intersect the vast forest lands, and go to form the vast water system of the Orinoco. The stream, in spite of its sombre current and the desolation of its muddy banks, whispered to us hope and escape from the pursuit that might be now even pressing upon our heels.My uncle and I hurried forward to scan the bank, ready to shoot at any noxious reptile that might show fight. But we were not called upon to fire; for though a couple of large crocodiles scuttled off into the water, and once or twice there was a sharp rustling amongst the reeds, we were unmolested; and bringing forward our weaker companions, we made a temporary halt.Now it is quite possible that, had I been a naturalist, I might have called the horrible reptiles that abounded in these muddy streams by some other name than crocodile; but even now, after consulting various authorities, I am not quite satisfied as to the proper term. The English of the district always called them crocodiles, and to me they certainly seemed to differ from the alligator or cayman, whose acquaintance I afterwards made amongst the lagoons of the Southern United States.But to return to our position on the river bank.We knew that there was no time to be lost; and having cut a few stout bamboos, we inflated the four skins we had, but not without some difficulty, as they required soaking, and the tying up of one or two failing places.Our little raft was at length made, and, provided with a couple of poles, afforded easy means of escape for three—at a pinch for four.And now came the arrangements for the gold.It seemed cruel, but, situated as we were, what else could we do? I did not like the plan, but could see no alternative; so with Tom’s aid the mules were unloaded, and we led the poor brutes into the leafy screen, so that Lilla and her mother might not be witnesses of how they were to be offered up for our safety.For our plan was this—to slay the poor beasts, and with their inflated skins to try and make a raft that should bear Tom, myself, and the gold.My heart failed me as the faithful brutes, that had brought us thus far, turned their great soft eyes up to mine, and for a few minutes I hesitated, trying to think out some other plan for our escape, when a warning cry from my uncle brought Tom and myself back to the river bank, where we could see, half a mile higher up the stream, a couple of canoes, each containing two Indians, who were lazily paddling down towards where we were.At first we took them for enemies, and gave ourselves up for lost; and I was about to beg of my uncle to risk flight with Lilla and my aunt upon the little raft, while I and Tom covered their escape with our guns; but the distance being lessened each moment, we could make out that these men belonged to one of the inoffensive fishing tribes who lived upon the rivers and their banks; and a new thought struck me—one which I directly communicated to my uncle.“Keep strict guard,” I then said, “and mind this—a loud whistle shall bring us directly back to your help. Come, Tom—bring your gun, man!”The next minute Tom and I were upon the raft, dragging ourselves slowly upstream by means of the bushes that overhung the river, till we found that the Indians could see our coming, when we began to paddle the best way we could out towards the middle.As I expected, the Indians first stopped, and then made as if to turn round and flee, raising their paddles for a fierce dash, when—“Now, Tom!” I exclaimed; and, standing up together, we presented our guns as if about to fire.“Ah! they’re like the crows at home,” muttered Tom; “they know what a gun is.”Tom was right; for the poor fellows uttered a wail of misery, held up their paddles, and then suffered their canoes to drift helplessly towards us.“Quick, Tom!” I now exclaimed; “lay down your gun; and try and fight against this stream, or we shall lose them after all.”Tom seized the bamboo pole, and by rapid beating of the water contrived to keep the raft stationary till the Indians were nearly abreast, when, pointing to the bank from which we had come, and still menacing them with my gun, I made the poor timid creatures slowly precede us, and tow us as well, to where my uncle was anxiously watching.Upon landing, the poor fellows crouched before us, and laid their foreheads upon the muddy grass; when, after trying to reassure them, my uncle, who knew a little of their barbarous tongue, explained that we only wanted their canoes; when, overjoyed at escaping with their lives, the poor abject creatures eagerly forced the paddles into our hands.“Tell them, Uncle, that we don’t want their fishing-gear,” I said; when there was a fresh demonstration of joy, and Tom threw out their rough lines and nets on to the grass.“They may as well help us load, Mas’r Harry, mayn’t they?” said Tom—a proposition I at once agreed to.In a very short space of time the gold was all placed in one canoe while we tethered the other by a short rope to the raft: this boat contained the provisions and ammunition, and in this Tom and I were to go, towing the gold canoe and the raft, upon which more convenient place my uncle, armed and watchful while we paddled, was to sit with Lilla and my aunt.It was nearly dark when our arrangements were at an end; and thankful that, so far, we had been uninterrupted, I drew the raft close in, secured it to our canoe, and Tom took his place, paddle in hand. My uncle made a couple of good easy seats for Lilla and my aunt, and then took his place beside them; and now nothing was wanted but for me to take a paddle beside Tom, when he exclaimed:“This here stuff makes the canoe all hang to the starn, Mas’r Harry. Tell you what, I’ll go in that canoe for the present, and get the freight shifted, and then join you again.”I nodded acquiescence, and then turned to the poor miserable creatures whom we seemed to be robbing, and who now stood, dejected of aspect, watching us.“What shall I give them?” I thought. “A gun—a knife or two? Pish! how absurd! Here—here!” I exclaimed, catching the two nearest savages by the hand and hastily drawing them into the brake, when the others followed. “One apiece for you, my good fellows, and you gain by the exchange.”They could not understand my word; but as I pointed to the animals tethered in the gloom, and then placed the bridle of a mule in each of the four men’s hands, their joy seemed unbounded, and, with a nod and a smile, I was turning to depart, eager to continue our flight, when a wild cry from the raft seemed to fix me to the spot.
“Now we can see what we’re about, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom cheerfully. “Look, there’s the first peep of where the sun’s coming, and if we’d been boxing the compass all night we couldn’t have been trundling more south-easter than we are. Hooroar, Miss Lilla, keep up your sperrits, and we shall soon be all right.”
Lilla smiled a response, and, cheered by the bright day, we made good progress during the next two hours before the mules began to flag, when, letting them graze, we made a short and hasty meal ourselves, each eye scanning the forest round for enemies, such as we knew might spring up at any moment.
An hour’s rest taken of necessity, and then we were once more journeying on, hopeful that we might soon strike upon one of the tributaries of the great stream fed by the eternal snow of the mountains; but hours went by, and no sign of river appeared, till suddenly, Tom, who was in advance, said softly:
“Here’s water somewhere, not far off, Mas’r Landell, for my mule’s cocking his nose up, and sniffing at a fine rate.”
There was no doubt of its being the case, for no sooner had Tom’s beast given evidence of its power of scent, than similar manifestations followed from the others; and now, instead of nagging and labouring along, the hot and wearied beasts broke into a trot, and had to be restrained as they tugged at the bridles.
The character of the undergrowth now, too, began to indicate moisture, and that floods sometimes swept along the low flat jungle, where we with some difficulty forced our way; and at last, almost overcome by the heat and excitement, we came suddenly upon one of the broad sluggish streams that intersect the vast forest lands, and go to form the vast water system of the Orinoco. The stream, in spite of its sombre current and the desolation of its muddy banks, whispered to us hope and escape from the pursuit that might be now even pressing upon our heels.
My uncle and I hurried forward to scan the bank, ready to shoot at any noxious reptile that might show fight. But we were not called upon to fire; for though a couple of large crocodiles scuttled off into the water, and once or twice there was a sharp rustling amongst the reeds, we were unmolested; and bringing forward our weaker companions, we made a temporary halt.
Now it is quite possible that, had I been a naturalist, I might have called the horrible reptiles that abounded in these muddy streams by some other name than crocodile; but even now, after consulting various authorities, I am not quite satisfied as to the proper term. The English of the district always called them crocodiles, and to me they certainly seemed to differ from the alligator or cayman, whose acquaintance I afterwards made amongst the lagoons of the Southern United States.
But to return to our position on the river bank.
We knew that there was no time to be lost; and having cut a few stout bamboos, we inflated the four skins we had, but not without some difficulty, as they required soaking, and the tying up of one or two failing places.
Our little raft was at length made, and, provided with a couple of poles, afforded easy means of escape for three—at a pinch for four.
And now came the arrangements for the gold.
It seemed cruel, but, situated as we were, what else could we do? I did not like the plan, but could see no alternative; so with Tom’s aid the mules were unloaded, and we led the poor brutes into the leafy screen, so that Lilla and her mother might not be witnesses of how they were to be offered up for our safety.
For our plan was this—to slay the poor beasts, and with their inflated skins to try and make a raft that should bear Tom, myself, and the gold.
My heart failed me as the faithful brutes, that had brought us thus far, turned their great soft eyes up to mine, and for a few minutes I hesitated, trying to think out some other plan for our escape, when a warning cry from my uncle brought Tom and myself back to the river bank, where we could see, half a mile higher up the stream, a couple of canoes, each containing two Indians, who were lazily paddling down towards where we were.
At first we took them for enemies, and gave ourselves up for lost; and I was about to beg of my uncle to risk flight with Lilla and my aunt upon the little raft, while I and Tom covered their escape with our guns; but the distance being lessened each moment, we could make out that these men belonged to one of the inoffensive fishing tribes who lived upon the rivers and their banks; and a new thought struck me—one which I directly communicated to my uncle.
“Keep strict guard,” I then said, “and mind this—a loud whistle shall bring us directly back to your help. Come, Tom—bring your gun, man!”
The next minute Tom and I were upon the raft, dragging ourselves slowly upstream by means of the bushes that overhung the river, till we found that the Indians could see our coming, when we began to paddle the best way we could out towards the middle.
As I expected, the Indians first stopped, and then made as if to turn round and flee, raising their paddles for a fierce dash, when—
“Now, Tom!” I exclaimed; and, standing up together, we presented our guns as if about to fire.
“Ah! they’re like the crows at home,” muttered Tom; “they know what a gun is.”
Tom was right; for the poor fellows uttered a wail of misery, held up their paddles, and then suffered their canoes to drift helplessly towards us.
“Quick, Tom!” I now exclaimed; “lay down your gun; and try and fight against this stream, or we shall lose them after all.”
Tom seized the bamboo pole, and by rapid beating of the water contrived to keep the raft stationary till the Indians were nearly abreast, when, pointing to the bank from which we had come, and still menacing them with my gun, I made the poor timid creatures slowly precede us, and tow us as well, to where my uncle was anxiously watching.
Upon landing, the poor fellows crouched before us, and laid their foreheads upon the muddy grass; when, after trying to reassure them, my uncle, who knew a little of their barbarous tongue, explained that we only wanted their canoes; when, overjoyed at escaping with their lives, the poor abject creatures eagerly forced the paddles into our hands.
“Tell them, Uncle, that we don’t want their fishing-gear,” I said; when there was a fresh demonstration of joy, and Tom threw out their rough lines and nets on to the grass.
“They may as well help us load, Mas’r Harry, mayn’t they?” said Tom—a proposition I at once agreed to.
In a very short space of time the gold was all placed in one canoe while we tethered the other by a short rope to the raft: this boat contained the provisions and ammunition, and in this Tom and I were to go, towing the gold canoe and the raft, upon which more convenient place my uncle, armed and watchful while we paddled, was to sit with Lilla and my aunt.
It was nearly dark when our arrangements were at an end; and thankful that, so far, we had been uninterrupted, I drew the raft close in, secured it to our canoe, and Tom took his place, paddle in hand. My uncle made a couple of good easy seats for Lilla and my aunt, and then took his place beside them; and now nothing was wanted but for me to take a paddle beside Tom, when he exclaimed:
“This here stuff makes the canoe all hang to the starn, Mas’r Harry. Tell you what, I’ll go in that canoe for the present, and get the freight shifted, and then join you again.”
I nodded acquiescence, and then turned to the poor miserable creatures whom we seemed to be robbing, and who now stood, dejected of aspect, watching us.
“What shall I give them?” I thought. “A gun—a knife or two? Pish! how absurd! Here—here!” I exclaimed, catching the two nearest savages by the hand and hastily drawing them into the brake, when the others followed. “One apiece for you, my good fellows, and you gain by the exchange.”
They could not understand my word; but as I pointed to the animals tethered in the gloom, and then placed the bridle of a mule in each of the four men’s hands, their joy seemed unbounded, and, with a nod and a smile, I was turning to depart, eager to continue our flight, when a wild cry from the raft seemed to fix me to the spot.
Chapter Forty Eight.In the Dark.The cry was repeated twice before I could make a dash through the thick swampy growth towards the bank.“Quick—quick, Harry! They are here!”“Mas’r Harry!” cried Tom in a piteous voice.The next moment I was on the trampled bank a little below where we had landed, to see in a moment that the little raft was being pushed off; for in cat-like silence our enemies had approached us, and I bitterly repented that I had not joined Tom, instead of wasting time over the fishers whose canoes we had taken. I knew that not a moment had been wasted, and that it would have been impossible to have half-made another raft by this time; but the means of safety had been open to me, and, so as to be fair, I had slighted it; while now I was in despair.Those were terrible moments! As I emerged from the brake there arose a fierce yell; there was a scattered volley, and the flashes gave me a momentary glimpse of the pale face of Lilla upon the raft. Then there was the loud splashing of the water, and the hurrying to and fro of dimly-seen figures—for the darkness was now deepening with that rapidity only known in equatorial regions.A moment after, I heard the splashing of water, as of some one swimming; and feeling that it was my only chance, I prepared to dash into the muddy current, when there was a crash, a hoarse cry, and a heavy body struck me on the back, driving me down upon my hands and knees, a tight clutch was upon my throat, and I felt that I was a prisoner, when, with a despairing effort for liberty, I threw myself sidewise towards the river, rolled over in the mud, and then my adversary and I were beneath the water.We rose directly, and I felt that I was free; for, with a guttural cry, my foe loosened his hold and made for the bank, while, blinded and confused, I swam desperately in the direction I thought might have been taken by the raft.I almost dashed through the water for a few minutes, as I tried to put in force every feint I knew in swimming; while, as I made the current foam around, I could hear the noise of struggling, muttered imprecations, and then a low, panting breathing, and then once more there was silence.I began to feel that I had made my last effort, and I was nerving myself for another stroke when my hand touched something hard.“Loose your hold or I fire!” cried a fierce voice, and the barrel of a gun was pressed against my cheek.“Uncle!” I gasped, in a voice that did not sound like mine, and as I spoke I grasped the cold barrel of the gun.There was a loud ejaculation, a faint cry, hands were holding mine, I could feel the raft rocking to and fro, as if about to be overturned; and then, as I felt that I was drawn upon it—that I was saved—my senses reeled, and my mind became dark as the sky which hung over the river.I believe my swoon did not last many minutes. How could it, when my head was being held to my aunt’s breast, which heaved with emotion, and hot tears were falling upon my forehead.“Lilla?” I whispered.“Harry!” was breathed upon my cheek, as she came forward.But this was no time for talking, and rallying my strength I rose to my knees.“I thought I should never have reached you, Uncle,” I said.“I did my best, Harry,” he whispered; “but I felt that when those blood-hounds leaped suddenly out from the brake that I must push off.”“But what was that struggle I heard? Did I not hear Garcia’s voice?”“Yes,” said my uncle, huskily.“And where is Tom?”My uncle was silent.“Poor Tom?” I said, in an inquiring voice.“Yes,” said my uncle, huskily. “It seemed to me that Garcia and another reached the canoe Tom was in—the gold canoe, Harry—and that then there was a desperate fight, which lasted some minutes. I had seized the paddle, and tried to make for where the struggle seemed to be going on; but first there was a faint, gurgling cry, and then utter silence; and though I softly paddled here and there I could find nothing. Harry, that canoe was heavily laden—the gold was a dead weight—”“And it took down with it what was worth ten thousand times more than the vile yellow trash,” I cried bitterly—“as true a heart as ever beat. Oh, Uncle—Uncle! I have murdered as noble a man as ever breathed, and as faithful a friend. Oh, Tom—Tom!” I groaned.I could say no more; but out there that night on the breast of the black, swift stream, with not a sound now but the sobs of the women to break the terrible silence, I—a woman myself now in heart—bent down to cover my face with my hands and cry like a child.At last I grew more calm, for there was work to be done. I found that we had floated on to a kind of mud bank, and were aground, and I had to help my uncle to get the raft off, which we managed by drawing the canoe up alongside, and then getting in and paddling hard, with the effect that the raft at last floated off, and we retained our places in the canoe guiding the raft down the swiftly flowing stream.Morning at last, to bring no brightness to my heart.We paddled on, the little raft, buoyant as possible, following swiftly in our wake.“Harry,” said my uncle, almost sternly, “I have thought it over during the darkness of the night, and I cannot feel that we have been wanting in any way. Poor lad! it was his fate.”“Uncle,” I cried, throwing down my paddle, “I can bear this no longer. I must go back!”“Harry,” cried my uncle, “you shall not act in that mad fashion. You have escaped with life, and now you would throw it away.”“Is it not mine to cast away if I like?” I said bitterly.“No,” he said in a low tone, as he bent forward and whispered something in my ear.“Say no more, Uncle—pray say no more,” I groaned. “Indeed, I believe that I am half mad. I would almost sooner have died myself than that this should have happened. How can I ever face those at home?”“Harry, my lad,” said my uncle, “take up your paddle, and use it. You are thinking of the future—duty says that you must think now of the present. We have two lives to save; and, until we have them in one of the settled towns, our work is not done.”I took up my paddle in silence, and plunged the blade in the stream, and we went on, swiftly and silently, along reach after reach of the river.Many hours passed without an alarm, and then, just as we were passing into another and a wider river, there came from the jungly edge of the left bank a puff of smoke, and a bullet struck the canoe.“To the right,” whispered my uncle softly; “we shall soon be out of that.”The paddles being swiftly plied, we made for the opposite bank, striving hard to place those we had with us out of reach of harm. But with bullets flying after us our efforts seemed very slow, and the raft was struck twice, and the water splashed over us several times, before I felt a sharp blow on my shoulder—one which half numbed me—while a bullet fell down into the bottom of the canoe.“Spent shot, Harry,” said my uncle, striking on alternate sides with his paddle, for I was helpless for the next quarter of an hour. “There will be no wound, only a little pain.”The skin-raft held together well—light and buoyant—so that our progress down stream was swift, but apparently endless, day after day, till our provisions were quite exhausted, and our guns had to be called into requisition to supply us with food.We were suffering too much to appreciate the wonders of the region through which we were passing; but I have since then often recalled it here at home in the quiet safety of my chair by my fireside, wondering often too how it was that we managed ever to get down to a civilised town in safety.There was, of course, always the consciousness of knowing that, if we kept afloat, sooner or later we must reach the sea; but what an interminable way it was! At one time we were slowly gliding down a wide river whose banks were not only covered to the water’s edge with the dense growth of the primeval forest, but the huge branches of the great trees spread far over the muddy flood. These trees were woven together, as it were, by the huge cable-like lianas which ran from tree to tree. From others hung the draperies of Spanish moss, while others were clothed with flowers from the water’s edge to the very summits, whose sweet blooms filled the air with their spicy odours. This wondrous wall of verdure rose to a great height; and when the current sometimes swept us near what was really a shoreless shore great herons would sometimes take flight, or a troop of monkeys rush chattering up amongst the leafy branches, going along hand over hand with the most astonishing velocity, or making bounds that I would think must end in their falling headlong into the river. But no, they never seemed to miss the branch that was their aim, and this, too, when often enough one of these agile little creatures would be a mother with a couple of tiny young ones clinging so tightly to her neck that the three bodies seemed to be only one.Curious little creatures these monkeys were, but as a rule exceedingly shy. Sometimes on a hot mid-day I would be seated listlessly, paddle in hand, dipping it now and then to avoid some mass of tangled driftwood, and then watching the great wall of verdure, I would see the leaves shake a little and then all would be still; but if I watched attentively as we glided by, it was a great chance if I did not see some little, dark, hairy face gazing intently down at me with the sharp, eager eyes scanning my every movement, and if I raised a hand the little face was gone like magic, a rustling leaf or waving strand of some convolvulus-like plant being all that was left to show where the little creature had been.At other times, instead of the winding river with its walls of verdure, we passed into what seemed to be some vast island-studded lake, some being patches of considerable extent, others mere islets of a dozen yards across, but all covered with trees and tangled with undergrowth. Landing on any of these was quite impossible unless through one of the verdant tunnels in which now and then there would be a swirl of the water that formed their bottom, showing where some huge reptile had dived at the sight of our boat and raft; while at other times a great snout, with the two eminences above its eyes, would be thrust out of the water and then slowly subside, to be seen no more.At these times the current swept us through winding channels in and out among the islands, and if I could have felt in better spirits I should have found endless pleasure in investigating the various beauties of the vegetable world: the great trumpet-shaped flowers that hung from some of the vines, with endless little flitting and poising gems of humming-birds feeding upon the nectar within the blossoms. Then squirrels could be seen running from branch to branch, at times boldly in sight, at others timid as the other occupants of the tree, the palm-cats, that were almost as active.Once I caught sight of the spots of a jaguar as the agile beast crept along a branch in its hunt for food, the object of its aim being a group of little chattering and squealing monkeys which were feasting on the berries of a leafy tree.Lilla shuddered on one occasion as I pointed out the long, twiny body of a large boa which was sluggishly making its way through the dense foliage of an india-rubber tree, apparently to get in a good position where it could secure itself in ambush, ready for striking at any bird that might come within its reach.As it happened the current drove us right in close to the tree and beneath some of its overhanging branches, with the result that the creature ceased its slow gliding movement through the dense leafage, and raised its head and four or five feet of its neck, swaying it slowly to and fro as if hesitating whether or no to make a dart at us.It was by no means a pleasant moment, and I felt for the time something of the sensation that I had so often read of as suffered by people who have been fascinated by snakes. I had a gun lying close by me, but I made no movement to reach it; and though I had a paddle in my hand I believe that, if the creature had lowered its head, I should not have struck at it. In short, I could do nothing but gaze at that waving, swaying head, with the glistening eyes, and the beautiful yellow and brown tortoiseshell-like markings of the neck and body.Then the stream swept us slowly away, and we were beyond the reptile’s reach.Taking; the recollection of these wild creatures of the South American forests, though, altogether, there was not so much cause for fear. As a rule every noxious beast seemed to aim at but one thing, and that was to escape from man. Even the great alligators, unless they could find him at a disadvantage in their native element, would rush off through the mud and undergrowth to plunge into the water and seek safety right at the bottom of the river. The jaguars were timid in the extreme; and though they would have fought perhaps if driven to bay, their one idea seemed to be to seek safety in flight. It was the same with the poisonous serpents, the most dangerous being a kind of miniature rattlesnake which was too sluggish and indifferent to get out of the traveller’s way, and many a poor fellow suffered from their deadly bite.In fact the most dangerous and troublesome creatures we had to encounter on our journey down the river, excepting man, were the mosquitoes—which swarmed all along the river borders and pestered us with their bites—and an exceedingly small fish that seemed to be in myriads in parts of the stream, and to make up in absolute ferocity for their want of size. This savageness of nature was of course but their natural instinctive desire for food, but it was dangerous in the extreme, as I knew later on. Our experience was in this wise:—It was one lovely afternoon when we were floating dreamily along between two of the most beautiful walls of verdure that we had seen. Many of the trees were gorgeous with blossoms, the consequence being that bright-winged beetles, painted butterflies, and humming-birds abounded.My uncle was seated half asleep with the heat, and his gun across his knees, waiting for an opportunity to shoot some large bird that would be good for food; I was dipping in my paddle from time to time so as to keep the canoe’s head straight and away from the awkward snags that projected from the river here and there—the remains of trees that had been washed out of the bank by some flood—and I was thinking despondently about the loss of poor Tom.Then my thoughts reverted to home and those I had to meet there, with our accounts of how it was that poor Tom had met his death.“All due to my miserable ambition,” I said to myself; “all owing to my wretched thirst for gold. And what has it all come to?” I said bitterly. “I had far better have settled down to honest, straightforward labour. I should have been better off.”I gave the paddle a few dips here, and noted that the water was much purer and clearer than it had seemed yet. We were very close in to the shore, but we had floated down so far that we had ceased to fear the Indians, believing as we did that they were now far behind.Then I began to think once more of how much better off I should have been if I had settled down to work on my uncle’s plantation.Not much, I was obliged to own, for my settling down would not have saved me from quarrelling with Garcia, neither would it have cleared my uncle from the incumbrance upon his home.“Perhaps things are best as they are,” I said; and then I looked back to where Lilla was thoughtfully gazing down into the river from where she reclined upon the raft, and letting one of her hands hang down in the water, which she played with and splashed from time to time.I was just going to warn her not to do so, for I remembered having read or heard tell that alligators would sometimes make a snap at a hand dragging in the water like that, when she uttered a sharp cry, snatching her hand away; and as she did so I saw a little flash, as if a tiny, silvery fish, dropped back into the water.“What is it?” I said.“Something bit me—a little fish,” she said. “It has nipped a morsel out of my finger.”She held up her hand as she spoke before wrapping a scrap of linen round it, and I could see that it was bleeding freely.“Surely it could not have been that tiny fish,” I said, thrusting one hand into the water and snatching it back again, for as it passed beneath the surface it was as if it had been pinched in half a dozen places at once; and when I thrust it in again I could see that the water was alive with little fish apparently about a couple of inches long, and instantaneously they made a rush at my hand, fastening upon it everywhere, so that it needed a sharp shake to throw them off; and when I drew it out, hardened and tough as it was with my late rough work, it was bleeding in a dozen places.“Why, the little wretches!” I exclaimed; and by way of experiment I held a piece of leather over the side, to find that it was attacked furiously; while even later on, when I had been fishing and had caught a small kind of mud-carp, I hauled it behind the canoe, in a few minutes there was nothing left but the head—the little ravenous creatures having literally devoured it all but the stronger bones.I remember thinking how unpleasant it would be to bathe there, and often and often afterwards we found that it would be absolutely impossible to dip our hands beneath the water unless we wished to withdraw them smarting and covered with blood.What more these little creatures could effect we had yet to learn, but we owned that they were as powerful in the water as the fiercer kind of ants on land, where they were virulent enough in places to master even the larger kinds of snakes if they could find them in a semi-torpid state after a meal—biting with such virulence and in such myriads that the most powerful creatures at last succumbed.At last, as the days glided on, we became more and more silent. Very little was said, and only once did my uncle talk to me quietly about our future, saying that we must get to one of the settlements on the Orinoco, low down near its mouth, and then see what could be done.A deep, settled melancholy seemed to have affected us all; but the sight, after many days, of a small trading-boat seemed to inspire us with hopefulness; and having, in exchange for a gun, obtained a fair quantity of provisions, we continued our journey with lightened spirits.In spite, though, of seeing now and then a trading-boat, we got at last into a very dull and dreamy state; while, as is usually the case, the weakest, and the one from whom you might expect the least, proved to have the stoutest heart. I allude, of course, to Lilla, who always tried to cheer us on.But there was a change coming—one which we little expected—just as, after what seemed to be an endless journey, we came in sight of a town which afterwards proved to be Angostura.
The cry was repeated twice before I could make a dash through the thick swampy growth towards the bank.
“Quick—quick, Harry! They are here!”
“Mas’r Harry!” cried Tom in a piteous voice.
The next moment I was on the trampled bank a little below where we had landed, to see in a moment that the little raft was being pushed off; for in cat-like silence our enemies had approached us, and I bitterly repented that I had not joined Tom, instead of wasting time over the fishers whose canoes we had taken. I knew that not a moment had been wasted, and that it would have been impossible to have half-made another raft by this time; but the means of safety had been open to me, and, so as to be fair, I had slighted it; while now I was in despair.
Those were terrible moments! As I emerged from the brake there arose a fierce yell; there was a scattered volley, and the flashes gave me a momentary glimpse of the pale face of Lilla upon the raft. Then there was the loud splashing of the water, and the hurrying to and fro of dimly-seen figures—for the darkness was now deepening with that rapidity only known in equatorial regions.
A moment after, I heard the splashing of water, as of some one swimming; and feeling that it was my only chance, I prepared to dash into the muddy current, when there was a crash, a hoarse cry, and a heavy body struck me on the back, driving me down upon my hands and knees, a tight clutch was upon my throat, and I felt that I was a prisoner, when, with a despairing effort for liberty, I threw myself sidewise towards the river, rolled over in the mud, and then my adversary and I were beneath the water.
We rose directly, and I felt that I was free; for, with a guttural cry, my foe loosened his hold and made for the bank, while, blinded and confused, I swam desperately in the direction I thought might have been taken by the raft.
I almost dashed through the water for a few minutes, as I tried to put in force every feint I knew in swimming; while, as I made the current foam around, I could hear the noise of struggling, muttered imprecations, and then a low, panting breathing, and then once more there was silence.
I began to feel that I had made my last effort, and I was nerving myself for another stroke when my hand touched something hard.
“Loose your hold or I fire!” cried a fierce voice, and the barrel of a gun was pressed against my cheek.
“Uncle!” I gasped, in a voice that did not sound like mine, and as I spoke I grasped the cold barrel of the gun.
There was a loud ejaculation, a faint cry, hands were holding mine, I could feel the raft rocking to and fro, as if about to be overturned; and then, as I felt that I was drawn upon it—that I was saved—my senses reeled, and my mind became dark as the sky which hung over the river.
I believe my swoon did not last many minutes. How could it, when my head was being held to my aunt’s breast, which heaved with emotion, and hot tears were falling upon my forehead.
“Lilla?” I whispered.
“Harry!” was breathed upon my cheek, as she came forward.
But this was no time for talking, and rallying my strength I rose to my knees.
“I thought I should never have reached you, Uncle,” I said.
“I did my best, Harry,” he whispered; “but I felt that when those blood-hounds leaped suddenly out from the brake that I must push off.”
“But what was that struggle I heard? Did I not hear Garcia’s voice?”
“Yes,” said my uncle, huskily.
“And where is Tom?”
My uncle was silent.
“Poor Tom?” I said, in an inquiring voice.
“Yes,” said my uncle, huskily. “It seemed to me that Garcia and another reached the canoe Tom was in—the gold canoe, Harry—and that then there was a desperate fight, which lasted some minutes. I had seized the paddle, and tried to make for where the struggle seemed to be going on; but first there was a faint, gurgling cry, and then utter silence; and though I softly paddled here and there I could find nothing. Harry, that canoe was heavily laden—the gold was a dead weight—”
“And it took down with it what was worth ten thousand times more than the vile yellow trash,” I cried bitterly—“as true a heart as ever beat. Oh, Uncle—Uncle! I have murdered as noble a man as ever breathed, and as faithful a friend. Oh, Tom—Tom!” I groaned.
I could say no more; but out there that night on the breast of the black, swift stream, with not a sound now but the sobs of the women to break the terrible silence, I—a woman myself now in heart—bent down to cover my face with my hands and cry like a child.
At last I grew more calm, for there was work to be done. I found that we had floated on to a kind of mud bank, and were aground, and I had to help my uncle to get the raft off, which we managed by drawing the canoe up alongside, and then getting in and paddling hard, with the effect that the raft at last floated off, and we retained our places in the canoe guiding the raft down the swiftly flowing stream.
Morning at last, to bring no brightness to my heart.
We paddled on, the little raft, buoyant as possible, following swiftly in our wake.
“Harry,” said my uncle, almost sternly, “I have thought it over during the darkness of the night, and I cannot feel that we have been wanting in any way. Poor lad! it was his fate.”
“Uncle,” I cried, throwing down my paddle, “I can bear this no longer. I must go back!”
“Harry,” cried my uncle, “you shall not act in that mad fashion. You have escaped with life, and now you would throw it away.”
“Is it not mine to cast away if I like?” I said bitterly.
“No,” he said in a low tone, as he bent forward and whispered something in my ear.
“Say no more, Uncle—pray say no more,” I groaned. “Indeed, I believe that I am half mad. I would almost sooner have died myself than that this should have happened. How can I ever face those at home?”
“Harry, my lad,” said my uncle, “take up your paddle, and use it. You are thinking of the future—duty says that you must think now of the present. We have two lives to save; and, until we have them in one of the settled towns, our work is not done.”
I took up my paddle in silence, and plunged the blade in the stream, and we went on, swiftly and silently, along reach after reach of the river.
Many hours passed without an alarm, and then, just as we were passing into another and a wider river, there came from the jungly edge of the left bank a puff of smoke, and a bullet struck the canoe.
“To the right,” whispered my uncle softly; “we shall soon be out of that.”
The paddles being swiftly plied, we made for the opposite bank, striving hard to place those we had with us out of reach of harm. But with bullets flying after us our efforts seemed very slow, and the raft was struck twice, and the water splashed over us several times, before I felt a sharp blow on my shoulder—one which half numbed me—while a bullet fell down into the bottom of the canoe.
“Spent shot, Harry,” said my uncle, striking on alternate sides with his paddle, for I was helpless for the next quarter of an hour. “There will be no wound, only a little pain.”
The skin-raft held together well—light and buoyant—so that our progress down stream was swift, but apparently endless, day after day, till our provisions were quite exhausted, and our guns had to be called into requisition to supply us with food.
We were suffering too much to appreciate the wonders of the region through which we were passing; but I have since then often recalled it here at home in the quiet safety of my chair by my fireside, wondering often too how it was that we managed ever to get down to a civilised town in safety.
There was, of course, always the consciousness of knowing that, if we kept afloat, sooner or later we must reach the sea; but what an interminable way it was! At one time we were slowly gliding down a wide river whose banks were not only covered to the water’s edge with the dense growth of the primeval forest, but the huge branches of the great trees spread far over the muddy flood. These trees were woven together, as it were, by the huge cable-like lianas which ran from tree to tree. From others hung the draperies of Spanish moss, while others were clothed with flowers from the water’s edge to the very summits, whose sweet blooms filled the air with their spicy odours. This wondrous wall of verdure rose to a great height; and when the current sometimes swept us near what was really a shoreless shore great herons would sometimes take flight, or a troop of monkeys rush chattering up amongst the leafy branches, going along hand over hand with the most astonishing velocity, or making bounds that I would think must end in their falling headlong into the river. But no, they never seemed to miss the branch that was their aim, and this, too, when often enough one of these agile little creatures would be a mother with a couple of tiny young ones clinging so tightly to her neck that the three bodies seemed to be only one.
Curious little creatures these monkeys were, but as a rule exceedingly shy. Sometimes on a hot mid-day I would be seated listlessly, paddle in hand, dipping it now and then to avoid some mass of tangled driftwood, and then watching the great wall of verdure, I would see the leaves shake a little and then all would be still; but if I watched attentively as we glided by, it was a great chance if I did not see some little, dark, hairy face gazing intently down at me with the sharp, eager eyes scanning my every movement, and if I raised a hand the little face was gone like magic, a rustling leaf or waving strand of some convolvulus-like plant being all that was left to show where the little creature had been.
At other times, instead of the winding river with its walls of verdure, we passed into what seemed to be some vast island-studded lake, some being patches of considerable extent, others mere islets of a dozen yards across, but all covered with trees and tangled with undergrowth. Landing on any of these was quite impossible unless through one of the verdant tunnels in which now and then there would be a swirl of the water that formed their bottom, showing where some huge reptile had dived at the sight of our boat and raft; while at other times a great snout, with the two eminences above its eyes, would be thrust out of the water and then slowly subside, to be seen no more.
At these times the current swept us through winding channels in and out among the islands, and if I could have felt in better spirits I should have found endless pleasure in investigating the various beauties of the vegetable world: the great trumpet-shaped flowers that hung from some of the vines, with endless little flitting and poising gems of humming-birds feeding upon the nectar within the blossoms. Then squirrels could be seen running from branch to branch, at times boldly in sight, at others timid as the other occupants of the tree, the palm-cats, that were almost as active.
Once I caught sight of the spots of a jaguar as the agile beast crept along a branch in its hunt for food, the object of its aim being a group of little chattering and squealing monkeys which were feasting on the berries of a leafy tree.
Lilla shuddered on one occasion as I pointed out the long, twiny body of a large boa which was sluggishly making its way through the dense foliage of an india-rubber tree, apparently to get in a good position where it could secure itself in ambush, ready for striking at any bird that might come within its reach.
As it happened the current drove us right in close to the tree and beneath some of its overhanging branches, with the result that the creature ceased its slow gliding movement through the dense leafage, and raised its head and four or five feet of its neck, swaying it slowly to and fro as if hesitating whether or no to make a dart at us.
It was by no means a pleasant moment, and I felt for the time something of the sensation that I had so often read of as suffered by people who have been fascinated by snakes. I had a gun lying close by me, but I made no movement to reach it; and though I had a paddle in my hand I believe that, if the creature had lowered its head, I should not have struck at it. In short, I could do nothing but gaze at that waving, swaying head, with the glistening eyes, and the beautiful yellow and brown tortoiseshell-like markings of the neck and body.
Then the stream swept us slowly away, and we were beyond the reptile’s reach.
Taking; the recollection of these wild creatures of the South American forests, though, altogether, there was not so much cause for fear. As a rule every noxious beast seemed to aim at but one thing, and that was to escape from man. Even the great alligators, unless they could find him at a disadvantage in their native element, would rush off through the mud and undergrowth to plunge into the water and seek safety right at the bottom of the river. The jaguars were timid in the extreme; and though they would have fought perhaps if driven to bay, their one idea seemed to be to seek safety in flight. It was the same with the poisonous serpents, the most dangerous being a kind of miniature rattlesnake which was too sluggish and indifferent to get out of the traveller’s way, and many a poor fellow suffered from their deadly bite.
In fact the most dangerous and troublesome creatures we had to encounter on our journey down the river, excepting man, were the mosquitoes—which swarmed all along the river borders and pestered us with their bites—and an exceedingly small fish that seemed to be in myriads in parts of the stream, and to make up in absolute ferocity for their want of size. This savageness of nature was of course but their natural instinctive desire for food, but it was dangerous in the extreme, as I knew later on. Our experience was in this wise:—
It was one lovely afternoon when we were floating dreamily along between two of the most beautiful walls of verdure that we had seen. Many of the trees were gorgeous with blossoms, the consequence being that bright-winged beetles, painted butterflies, and humming-birds abounded.
My uncle was seated half asleep with the heat, and his gun across his knees, waiting for an opportunity to shoot some large bird that would be good for food; I was dipping in my paddle from time to time so as to keep the canoe’s head straight and away from the awkward snags that projected from the river here and there—the remains of trees that had been washed out of the bank by some flood—and I was thinking despondently about the loss of poor Tom.
Then my thoughts reverted to home and those I had to meet there, with our accounts of how it was that poor Tom had met his death.
“All due to my miserable ambition,” I said to myself; “all owing to my wretched thirst for gold. And what has it all come to?” I said bitterly. “I had far better have settled down to honest, straightforward labour. I should have been better off.”
I gave the paddle a few dips here, and noted that the water was much purer and clearer than it had seemed yet. We were very close in to the shore, but we had floated down so far that we had ceased to fear the Indians, believing as we did that they were now far behind.
Then I began to think once more of how much better off I should have been if I had settled down to work on my uncle’s plantation.
Not much, I was obliged to own, for my settling down would not have saved me from quarrelling with Garcia, neither would it have cleared my uncle from the incumbrance upon his home.
“Perhaps things are best as they are,” I said; and then I looked back to where Lilla was thoughtfully gazing down into the river from where she reclined upon the raft, and letting one of her hands hang down in the water, which she played with and splashed from time to time.
I was just going to warn her not to do so, for I remembered having read or heard tell that alligators would sometimes make a snap at a hand dragging in the water like that, when she uttered a sharp cry, snatching her hand away; and as she did so I saw a little flash, as if a tiny, silvery fish, dropped back into the water.
“What is it?” I said.
“Something bit me—a little fish,” she said. “It has nipped a morsel out of my finger.”
She held up her hand as she spoke before wrapping a scrap of linen round it, and I could see that it was bleeding freely.
“Surely it could not have been that tiny fish,” I said, thrusting one hand into the water and snatching it back again, for as it passed beneath the surface it was as if it had been pinched in half a dozen places at once; and when I thrust it in again I could see that the water was alive with little fish apparently about a couple of inches long, and instantaneously they made a rush at my hand, fastening upon it everywhere, so that it needed a sharp shake to throw them off; and when I drew it out, hardened and tough as it was with my late rough work, it was bleeding in a dozen places.
“Why, the little wretches!” I exclaimed; and by way of experiment I held a piece of leather over the side, to find that it was attacked furiously; while even later on, when I had been fishing and had caught a small kind of mud-carp, I hauled it behind the canoe, in a few minutes there was nothing left but the head—the little ravenous creatures having literally devoured it all but the stronger bones.
I remember thinking how unpleasant it would be to bathe there, and often and often afterwards we found that it would be absolutely impossible to dip our hands beneath the water unless we wished to withdraw them smarting and covered with blood.
What more these little creatures could effect we had yet to learn, but we owned that they were as powerful in the water as the fiercer kind of ants on land, where they were virulent enough in places to master even the larger kinds of snakes if they could find them in a semi-torpid state after a meal—biting with such virulence and in such myriads that the most powerful creatures at last succumbed.
At last, as the days glided on, we became more and more silent. Very little was said, and only once did my uncle talk to me quietly about our future, saying that we must get to one of the settlements on the Orinoco, low down near its mouth, and then see what could be done.
A deep, settled melancholy seemed to have affected us all; but the sight, after many days, of a small trading-boat seemed to inspire us with hopefulness; and having, in exchange for a gun, obtained a fair quantity of provisions, we continued our journey with lightened spirits.
In spite, though, of seeing now and then a trading-boat, we got at last into a very dull and dreamy state; while, as is usually the case, the weakest, and the one from whom you might expect the least, proved to have the stoutest heart. I allude, of course, to Lilla, who always tried to cheer us on.
But there was a change coming—one which we little expected—just as, after what seemed to be an endless journey, we came in sight of a town which afterwards proved to be Angostura.
Chapter Forty Nine.How Tom saved the Treasure.It was the afternoon of a glorious day, and we were floating along in the broiling heat, now and then giving a dip with the paddles, so as to direct the canoe more towards the bank, where we could see houses. There was a boat here and a boat there, moored in the current; and now and then we passed a canoe, while others seemed to be going in the same direction as ourselves.“Harry, look there!” cried my uncle.I looked in the direction pointed-out ahead, shading my eyes with my hand, when I dropped my paddle, as I rose up, trembling, in the boat; for just at that moment, from a canoe being paddled towards us, there came a faint but unmistakable English cheer—one to which I could not respond for the choking feelings in my throat.I rubbed my eyes, fancying that I must have been deceived, as the canoe came nearer and nearer, but still slowly, till it grated against ours, and my hands were held fast by those of honest old Tom, who was laughing, crying, and talking all in a breath.“And I’ve been thinking I was left behind, Mas’r Harry, and working away to catch you; while all the time I’ve been paddling away.”“Tom!—Tom!” I cried huskily, “we thought you dead!”“But I ain’t—not a bit of it, Mas’r Harry. I’m as live as ever. But ain’t you going to ask arter anything else?”“Tom, you’re alive,” I said, in the thankfulness of my heart, “and that is enough.”“No, ’tain’t, Mas’r Harry,” he whispered rather faintly; for now I saw that he looked pale and exhausted. “No, ’tain’t enough; for I’ve got all the stuff in the bottom here, just as we packed it in. Ain’t you going to say ‘hooray!’ for that, Mas’r Harry?” he cried, in rather disappointed tones.“Tom,” I said, “life’s worth a deal more than gold.” And then I turned from him, for I could say no more.We pushed in now to the landing-place, with a feeling of awakened confidence, given—though I did not think of it then—by the knowledge of our wealth; and leaving Tom in charge of the canoes, we sought the first shelter we could obtain, and leaving there my uncle to watch over the safety of the women, I set about making inquiries, and was exceedingly fortunate in obtaining possession of a house that was falling to ruin, having been lying deserted since quitted by an English merchant a couple of years before. A few inquiries, too, led us to the discovery that there was an English vice-consul resident, to whom I told so much of our story as was safe, mentioning the attack upon my uncle, and speaking of myself as having merely been upon an exploring visit.The result was a number of pleasant little attentions, the consul sending up his servants to assist in making the house habitable, and sending to buy for us such articles of furniture as would be necessary for our immediate wants.I took the first opportunity of impressing upon all present secrecy respecting the treasure, for I could not tell in what light our possession of it might be looked upon; and then I hurried down to the canoes to Tom with refreshments, of which he eagerly partook, as he said at intervals:“I believe I should have been starved out, Mas’r Harry, if there hadn’t been some of the eatables stuffed in my canoe by mistake; for I’d got nothing much to swop with the Indians when I did happen to see any ashore.”It was then arranged that he should still stay with the boats till I could return and tell him that I had a safe place, while as Tom lazily stretched himself over the packages in the canoe, sheltering his head with a few great leaves, his appearance excited no attention, and I left him without much anxiety, to return to my uncle.The discovery that Tom existed had robbed our perils of three parts of their suffering; and now, with feelings of real anxiety respecting the treasure springing up, I hurried back again to the landing-place, to find all well, for the place was too Spanish and lazy for our coming to create much excitement.“Say, Mas’r Harry,” cried Tom, grinning hugely, in spite of his pale face and exhaustion, “I’ve got you now. I said you was to let me have a pound a week; I must go in for thirty bob after this. Come, now, no shirking. Say yes, or I’m hanged if I don’t scuttle the canoe.”It was evident, though, that Tom had undergone a great deal, and was far from able to bear much more; for that evening, after telling the Indian porters that I was a sort of curiosity and stone collector, and getting the treasure carried up safely to the house which I had taken, he suddenly gave a lurch, and would have fallen had I not caught his arm.“Why, Tom!” I cried anxiously.“I think, Mas’r Harry,” he said softly, “it might be as well if you was to let a doctor look at me—it would be just as well. I’ve a bullet in me somewhere, and that knife—”“Bullet—knife, Tom?”“Yes, Mas’r Harry, that Garcia—but I’ll tell you all about it after.”The doctor I hastily summoned looked serious as he examined Tom’s hurts; and though, with insular pride, I rather looked down upon Spanish doctors, this gentleman soon proved himself of no mean skill in surgery, and under his care Tom rapidly approached convalescence.“You see, Mas’r Harry, it was after this fashion,” said Tom one evening as I sat by his bedside indulging in a cup of coffee, just when one of the afternoon rains had cooled the earth, and the air that was wafted through the open window was delicious. “You see it was after this fashion—”“But are you strong enough to talk about it, Tom?” I said anxiously.“Strong, Mas’r Harry! I could get a toller cask down out of a van. Well, it was like this: I was, as you know, in the gold canoe; and being on my knees, I was leaning over the side expecting you to swim off to me, and at last, as I thought, there you was, when I held out my hands and got hold of one of yours and the barrel of a gun with the other, when a thought struck me—“‘Why, surely Mas’r Harry hadn’t his gun with him?’“But it was no time, I thought, for bothering about trifles, with the night black as ink, and the Indians collected together upon the bank; so I did the best I could to help you, and the next minute there you was in the gold canoe, and not without nearly oversetting it, heavy-laden as she was—when I whispers, ‘You’d best take a paddle here, Mas’r Harry,’ when I felt two hands at my throat, my head bent back, a knee forced into my chest, and there in that black darkness I lay for a few minutes quite stupid, calling myself all the fools I could think of for helping someone on board that I knew now was not you.“That was rather ticklish work, being choked as I was, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom, with his pale face flushing up, and his eyes brightening with the recollection; “but above all things, I couldn’t help feeling then that, if I did get a prick with a knife, I deserved it for being such a donkey. Then I got thinking about Sally Smith, and wishing that we had parted better friends; then about you and Miss Lilla, and about how all the gold would be lost; and then I turned savage, and seemed to see blood, as I made up my mind that, if you didn’t have the treasure, the Don shouldn’t, for I’d upset the canoe and sink it all first for the crockydiles.“I don’t know what I said, and I don’t much recollect what I did, only that fox ever so long there was a reg’lar struggle going on, which made that little canoe rock so that I expected every moment it would be overset; but I s’pose we both meant that it shouldn’t: and at last we were lying quite still on the gold, with all round us black and quiet as my lord’s vault in the old churchyard at home. Garcia had got tight hold of my hands, and I kept him by that means so that he couldn’t use his sting—I mean his knife—you know, Mas’r Harry.“It seemed to me at last that my best plan was to lie still and wait till he give me a chance; for after one or two struggles I only found that I was nowhere, and ever so much weaker; so I did lie still, waiting for a chance, and wondering that Mas’r Landell didn’t come and lend me a hand.“All at once there came a horrible thought to me, and that was—ah! there were two horrible thoughts—that you had missed the canoe and had gone down, and that the raft had broke away from the gold canoe while we were jerking and rocking about, and that I was left alone here on this big river, with the Don waiting for a chance to send that knife of his through me.“Now, you needn’t go thinking it was because I cared anything about you, Mas’r Harry,” continued Tom in a sulky voice, “for it wasn’t that: it was only just because I was a weak great booby, and got a wondering what your poor mother would say when I got home, and then, I couldn’t help it, if I didn’t get crying away like a great girl kep’ in at school, for I don’t know how long, and the canoe gliding away all the time on the river.“Getting rid of all that warm water made me less soft; and when Mas’r Garcia got struggling again I give him two or three such wipes on the head as must have wound him up a bit; and then, after nearly having the boat over again, there we lay for hour after hour in the thick darkness, getting stiff as stiff, as we kep’ one another from doing mischief. And then at last came the light, with the fog hanging over the river, thick as the old washus at home when Sally Smith took off the copper-lid and got stirring up the clothes. Then the sun came cutting through the mist, chopping it up like golden wires through a cake of soap. There was the green stuff like a hedge on both sides of the river, the parrots a-screaming, the crockydiles crawling on to the mud-banks or floating down, the birds a-fishing, and all looking as bright as could be, while my heart was black as a furnace-hole, Mas’r Harry, and that black-looking Don was close aside me.“I ain’t of a murderous disposition, Mas’r Harry, but I felt very nasty then, in that bright, clear morning, though all the time I was thinking what a nice place this world would be if it wasn’t for wild beasts, and men as makes themselves worse; for there was that Don’s eye saying as plain as could be:—“‘There ain’t room enough in this here canoe for both of us, young man!’“‘Then it’s you as must go out of it, Don Spaniard,’ says my eyes.“‘No; it’s you as must go out of it, you beggarly little soap-boiling Englishman,’ says his eyes.“‘It’s my Mas’r Harry’s gold, and if he’s gone to the crockydiles I’ll save the treasure for his Miss Lilla and the old folks—so now, then!’ says my eyes.“And all this, you know, was without a word being spoke; when all at once if he didn’t make a sort of a jump, and before I knew where we were he was at one end of the canoe and I was at the other.“Well, you may say that was a good thing. But it wasn’t; for as I scrambled up there he was with both guns at his end, and me with nothing but my fisties.“I saw through his dodge now, but it was too late; and in the next few moments I thought three things:—“‘Shall I sit still like a man and let him shoot me?’“‘Shall I rock the canoe over and let it sink?’“‘Shall I go at him?’“I hadn’t pluck enough to sit still and be shot, Mas’r Harry, for you know what a cur I always was; and I thought it a pity to sink the canoe in case you, if you were alive, or Mas’r Landell, might come back to look for it. So I made up my mind to the last, being bristly, and, with my monkey up, I dashed at him.“Bang! He got a shot at me, and I felt just as if some one had hit me a blow with a stick hard enough to make me savage; but it didn’t stop me a bit, for I reached at him such a crack with my double fist just as he struck his knife into me; and then we were overboard and struggling together in the sunlit water, making it splash up all around.“‘It’s all over with you, Tom!’ I said to myself; for as we rose to the surface after our plunge he got one arm free, his knife was lifted, and I looked him full in the face as I felt, though I didn’t say it—‘You cowardly beggar! why can’t you fight like a man with your fists?’“The next moment he must have struck that knife into me again, when I never see such a horrible change in my life as come over his face—from savage joy to fear—for in a flash he let go the knife, shrieked horribly, and half-forced himself out of the water, leaving me free, when, with a terrible fear on me that the crockydiles were at him, I swum for the canoe; and how, I don’t know, I managed to get in, with hundreds of tiny little fish leaping and darting at me like a shoal of gudgeons, only they nipped pieces out of my hands and feet, which were bare; and if I hadn’t been quick they’d have had me to pieces.“No sooner was I in the canoe than I turned, for Garcia was shrieking horribly in a way that nearly drove me mad to hear him, as he beat, and splashed, and tore about in the water—now down, now up, now fighting this way, now that—wild with fear and despair, for those tiny fish were at him by the thousand; his face and hands were streaming with blood, and I could see that it would be all over with him directly, when, catching up a paddle, I sent the canoe towards him, to pass close by his hand just as he sank.“To turn and come back was not many moments’ work; but he didn’t come up where I expected, and I had to paddle back against stream, but again I missed him, and he went down with a yell, Mas’r Harry, that’s been buzzing in my ears ever since—wakes me up of a night, it does, and sends me in a cold perspiration as all the scene comes back again.“I forgot all about his shooting and knifing me; and, Mas’r Harry, as I hope to get back safe to old England I did all I could to save him when he come up again—silent this time! Did I say him? No, it wasn’t him, but a horrible, gashly, bleeding mass of flesh and bone, writhing and twisting as the little fish hung to it and leaped at it by thousands, tearing him really to pieces before he once more sank under the stream, which was all red with blood.“I paddled here and I paddled there, frantically, but the body didn’t come up again; and then, Mas’r Harry, it seemed to me as if a strong pair of hands had taken hold of the canoe and were twisting it round and round, so that the river and the trees on the banks danced before my eyes, making me that giddy that I fell back and lay, I don’t know how long.“When I opened my eyes again, Mas’r Harry, I thought I was dying, for there was a horrible sick feeling on me—one which lasted ever so long—till, remembering all about what had taken place, I felt that I had only been fainting; and, raising myself up, I looked on the river for a few minutes, shuddering the while as I tried to leave off thinking about the horrors in it; but try hard as I would, I couldn’t help looking—the place having a sort of way for me as if it was pulling me towards it—and I seemed to see all that going on again, though, perhaps, I’d floated down a good mile since it happened.“At last I dragged my eyes from the water and they fell upon the packages, and they made me think of you, Mas’r Harry; and, in the hope that you were a long way on ahead, I took up a paddle—thinking, too, at the same time, that if you was alive, as soon as you had got Miss Lilla safe you would come back for me.”I did not speak—I could not just then; for in a flood the recollection of the past came upon me, and taking Tom’s hands in mine, for a good ten minutes I sat without speaking.“Well, Mas’r Harry,” continued Tom—but speaking now in a thick, husky voice—“I took up the paddle and then I dropped it again, I was that weak, faint, and in pain; and it seemed to me that before I could do anything else I must wash and bind up a bit.“One of my hands was terribly crippled from my hurt, but I managed to bind a couple of paddles together; and then, rowing slowly on, I was thinking that my labour had been all in vain unless I could manage still to save the gold, when, happening one day to turn round to look upstream, I saw that, Mas’r Harry, as seemed to give me life, and hope, and strength all in a moment; and you know the rest.”
It was the afternoon of a glorious day, and we were floating along in the broiling heat, now and then giving a dip with the paddles, so as to direct the canoe more towards the bank, where we could see houses. There was a boat here and a boat there, moored in the current; and now and then we passed a canoe, while others seemed to be going in the same direction as ourselves.
“Harry, look there!” cried my uncle.
I looked in the direction pointed-out ahead, shading my eyes with my hand, when I dropped my paddle, as I rose up, trembling, in the boat; for just at that moment, from a canoe being paddled towards us, there came a faint but unmistakable English cheer—one to which I could not respond for the choking feelings in my throat.
I rubbed my eyes, fancying that I must have been deceived, as the canoe came nearer and nearer, but still slowly, till it grated against ours, and my hands were held fast by those of honest old Tom, who was laughing, crying, and talking all in a breath.
“And I’ve been thinking I was left behind, Mas’r Harry, and working away to catch you; while all the time I’ve been paddling away.”
“Tom!—Tom!” I cried huskily, “we thought you dead!”
“But I ain’t—not a bit of it, Mas’r Harry. I’m as live as ever. But ain’t you going to ask arter anything else?”
“Tom, you’re alive,” I said, in the thankfulness of my heart, “and that is enough.”
“No, ’tain’t, Mas’r Harry,” he whispered rather faintly; for now I saw that he looked pale and exhausted. “No, ’tain’t enough; for I’ve got all the stuff in the bottom here, just as we packed it in. Ain’t you going to say ‘hooray!’ for that, Mas’r Harry?” he cried, in rather disappointed tones.
“Tom,” I said, “life’s worth a deal more than gold.” And then I turned from him, for I could say no more.
We pushed in now to the landing-place, with a feeling of awakened confidence, given—though I did not think of it then—by the knowledge of our wealth; and leaving Tom in charge of the canoes, we sought the first shelter we could obtain, and leaving there my uncle to watch over the safety of the women, I set about making inquiries, and was exceedingly fortunate in obtaining possession of a house that was falling to ruin, having been lying deserted since quitted by an English merchant a couple of years before. A few inquiries, too, led us to the discovery that there was an English vice-consul resident, to whom I told so much of our story as was safe, mentioning the attack upon my uncle, and speaking of myself as having merely been upon an exploring visit.
The result was a number of pleasant little attentions, the consul sending up his servants to assist in making the house habitable, and sending to buy for us such articles of furniture as would be necessary for our immediate wants.
I took the first opportunity of impressing upon all present secrecy respecting the treasure, for I could not tell in what light our possession of it might be looked upon; and then I hurried down to the canoes to Tom with refreshments, of which he eagerly partook, as he said at intervals:
“I believe I should have been starved out, Mas’r Harry, if there hadn’t been some of the eatables stuffed in my canoe by mistake; for I’d got nothing much to swop with the Indians when I did happen to see any ashore.”
It was then arranged that he should still stay with the boats till I could return and tell him that I had a safe place, while as Tom lazily stretched himself over the packages in the canoe, sheltering his head with a few great leaves, his appearance excited no attention, and I left him without much anxiety, to return to my uncle.
The discovery that Tom existed had robbed our perils of three parts of their suffering; and now, with feelings of real anxiety respecting the treasure springing up, I hurried back again to the landing-place, to find all well, for the place was too Spanish and lazy for our coming to create much excitement.
“Say, Mas’r Harry,” cried Tom, grinning hugely, in spite of his pale face and exhaustion, “I’ve got you now. I said you was to let me have a pound a week; I must go in for thirty bob after this. Come, now, no shirking. Say yes, or I’m hanged if I don’t scuttle the canoe.”
It was evident, though, that Tom had undergone a great deal, and was far from able to bear much more; for that evening, after telling the Indian porters that I was a sort of curiosity and stone collector, and getting the treasure carried up safely to the house which I had taken, he suddenly gave a lurch, and would have fallen had I not caught his arm.
“Why, Tom!” I cried anxiously.
“I think, Mas’r Harry,” he said softly, “it might be as well if you was to let a doctor look at me—it would be just as well. I’ve a bullet in me somewhere, and that knife—”
“Bullet—knife, Tom?”
“Yes, Mas’r Harry, that Garcia—but I’ll tell you all about it after.”
The doctor I hastily summoned looked serious as he examined Tom’s hurts; and though, with insular pride, I rather looked down upon Spanish doctors, this gentleman soon proved himself of no mean skill in surgery, and under his care Tom rapidly approached convalescence.
“You see, Mas’r Harry, it was after this fashion,” said Tom one evening as I sat by his bedside indulging in a cup of coffee, just when one of the afternoon rains had cooled the earth, and the air that was wafted through the open window was delicious. “You see it was after this fashion—”
“But are you strong enough to talk about it, Tom?” I said anxiously.
“Strong, Mas’r Harry! I could get a toller cask down out of a van. Well, it was like this: I was, as you know, in the gold canoe; and being on my knees, I was leaning over the side expecting you to swim off to me, and at last, as I thought, there you was, when I held out my hands and got hold of one of yours and the barrel of a gun with the other, when a thought struck me—
“‘Why, surely Mas’r Harry hadn’t his gun with him?’
“But it was no time, I thought, for bothering about trifles, with the night black as ink, and the Indians collected together upon the bank; so I did the best I could to help you, and the next minute there you was in the gold canoe, and not without nearly oversetting it, heavy-laden as she was—when I whispers, ‘You’d best take a paddle here, Mas’r Harry,’ when I felt two hands at my throat, my head bent back, a knee forced into my chest, and there in that black darkness I lay for a few minutes quite stupid, calling myself all the fools I could think of for helping someone on board that I knew now was not you.
“That was rather ticklish work, being choked as I was, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom, with his pale face flushing up, and his eyes brightening with the recollection; “but above all things, I couldn’t help feeling then that, if I did get a prick with a knife, I deserved it for being such a donkey. Then I got thinking about Sally Smith, and wishing that we had parted better friends; then about you and Miss Lilla, and about how all the gold would be lost; and then I turned savage, and seemed to see blood, as I made up my mind that, if you didn’t have the treasure, the Don shouldn’t, for I’d upset the canoe and sink it all first for the crockydiles.
“I don’t know what I said, and I don’t much recollect what I did, only that fox ever so long there was a reg’lar struggle going on, which made that little canoe rock so that I expected every moment it would be overset; but I s’pose we both meant that it shouldn’t: and at last we were lying quite still on the gold, with all round us black and quiet as my lord’s vault in the old churchyard at home. Garcia had got tight hold of my hands, and I kept him by that means so that he couldn’t use his sting—I mean his knife—you know, Mas’r Harry.
“It seemed to me at last that my best plan was to lie still and wait till he give me a chance; for after one or two struggles I only found that I was nowhere, and ever so much weaker; so I did lie still, waiting for a chance, and wondering that Mas’r Landell didn’t come and lend me a hand.
“All at once there came a horrible thought to me, and that was—ah! there were two horrible thoughts—that you had missed the canoe and had gone down, and that the raft had broke away from the gold canoe while we were jerking and rocking about, and that I was left alone here on this big river, with the Don waiting for a chance to send that knife of his through me.
“Now, you needn’t go thinking it was because I cared anything about you, Mas’r Harry,” continued Tom in a sulky voice, “for it wasn’t that: it was only just because I was a weak great booby, and got a wondering what your poor mother would say when I got home, and then, I couldn’t help it, if I didn’t get crying away like a great girl kep’ in at school, for I don’t know how long, and the canoe gliding away all the time on the river.
“Getting rid of all that warm water made me less soft; and when Mas’r Garcia got struggling again I give him two or three such wipes on the head as must have wound him up a bit; and then, after nearly having the boat over again, there we lay for hour after hour in the thick darkness, getting stiff as stiff, as we kep’ one another from doing mischief. And then at last came the light, with the fog hanging over the river, thick as the old washus at home when Sally Smith took off the copper-lid and got stirring up the clothes. Then the sun came cutting through the mist, chopping it up like golden wires through a cake of soap. There was the green stuff like a hedge on both sides of the river, the parrots a-screaming, the crockydiles crawling on to the mud-banks or floating down, the birds a-fishing, and all looking as bright as could be, while my heart was black as a furnace-hole, Mas’r Harry, and that black-looking Don was close aside me.
“I ain’t of a murderous disposition, Mas’r Harry, but I felt very nasty then, in that bright, clear morning, though all the time I was thinking what a nice place this world would be if it wasn’t for wild beasts, and men as makes themselves worse; for there was that Don’s eye saying as plain as could be:—
“‘There ain’t room enough in this here canoe for both of us, young man!’
“‘Then it’s you as must go out of it, Don Spaniard,’ says my eyes.
“‘No; it’s you as must go out of it, you beggarly little soap-boiling Englishman,’ says his eyes.
“‘It’s my Mas’r Harry’s gold, and if he’s gone to the crockydiles I’ll save the treasure for his Miss Lilla and the old folks—so now, then!’ says my eyes.
“And all this, you know, was without a word being spoke; when all at once if he didn’t make a sort of a jump, and before I knew where we were he was at one end of the canoe and I was at the other.
“Well, you may say that was a good thing. But it wasn’t; for as I scrambled up there he was with both guns at his end, and me with nothing but my fisties.
“I saw through his dodge now, but it was too late; and in the next few moments I thought three things:—
“‘Shall I sit still like a man and let him shoot me?’
“‘Shall I rock the canoe over and let it sink?’
“‘Shall I go at him?’
“I hadn’t pluck enough to sit still and be shot, Mas’r Harry, for you know what a cur I always was; and I thought it a pity to sink the canoe in case you, if you were alive, or Mas’r Landell, might come back to look for it. So I made up my mind to the last, being bristly, and, with my monkey up, I dashed at him.
“Bang! He got a shot at me, and I felt just as if some one had hit me a blow with a stick hard enough to make me savage; but it didn’t stop me a bit, for I reached at him such a crack with my double fist just as he struck his knife into me; and then we were overboard and struggling together in the sunlit water, making it splash up all around.
“‘It’s all over with you, Tom!’ I said to myself; for as we rose to the surface after our plunge he got one arm free, his knife was lifted, and I looked him full in the face as I felt, though I didn’t say it—‘You cowardly beggar! why can’t you fight like a man with your fists?’
“The next moment he must have struck that knife into me again, when I never see such a horrible change in my life as come over his face—from savage joy to fear—for in a flash he let go the knife, shrieked horribly, and half-forced himself out of the water, leaving me free, when, with a terrible fear on me that the crockydiles were at him, I swum for the canoe; and how, I don’t know, I managed to get in, with hundreds of tiny little fish leaping and darting at me like a shoal of gudgeons, only they nipped pieces out of my hands and feet, which were bare; and if I hadn’t been quick they’d have had me to pieces.
“No sooner was I in the canoe than I turned, for Garcia was shrieking horribly in a way that nearly drove me mad to hear him, as he beat, and splashed, and tore about in the water—now down, now up, now fighting this way, now that—wild with fear and despair, for those tiny fish were at him by the thousand; his face and hands were streaming with blood, and I could see that it would be all over with him directly, when, catching up a paddle, I sent the canoe towards him, to pass close by his hand just as he sank.
“To turn and come back was not many moments’ work; but he didn’t come up where I expected, and I had to paddle back against stream, but again I missed him, and he went down with a yell, Mas’r Harry, that’s been buzzing in my ears ever since—wakes me up of a night, it does, and sends me in a cold perspiration as all the scene comes back again.
“I forgot all about his shooting and knifing me; and, Mas’r Harry, as I hope to get back safe to old England I did all I could to save him when he come up again—silent this time! Did I say him? No, it wasn’t him, but a horrible, gashly, bleeding mass of flesh and bone, writhing and twisting as the little fish hung to it and leaped at it by thousands, tearing him really to pieces before he once more sank under the stream, which was all red with blood.
“I paddled here and I paddled there, frantically, but the body didn’t come up again; and then, Mas’r Harry, it seemed to me as if a strong pair of hands had taken hold of the canoe and were twisting it round and round, so that the river and the trees on the banks danced before my eyes, making me that giddy that I fell back and lay, I don’t know how long.
“When I opened my eyes again, Mas’r Harry, I thought I was dying, for there was a horrible sick feeling on me—one which lasted ever so long—till, remembering all about what had taken place, I felt that I had only been fainting; and, raising myself up, I looked on the river for a few minutes, shuddering the while as I tried to leave off thinking about the horrors in it; but try hard as I would, I couldn’t help looking—the place having a sort of way for me as if it was pulling me towards it—and I seemed to see all that going on again, though, perhaps, I’d floated down a good mile since it happened.
“At last I dragged my eyes from the water and they fell upon the packages, and they made me think of you, Mas’r Harry; and, in the hope that you were a long way on ahead, I took up a paddle—thinking, too, at the same time, that if you was alive, as soon as you had got Miss Lilla safe you would come back for me.”
I did not speak—I could not just then; for in a flood the recollection of the past came upon me, and taking Tom’s hands in mine, for a good ten minutes I sat without speaking.
“Well, Mas’r Harry,” continued Tom—but speaking now in a thick, husky voice—“I took up the paddle and then I dropped it again, I was that weak, faint, and in pain; and it seemed to me that before I could do anything else I must wash and bind up a bit.
“One of my hands was terribly crippled from my hurt, but I managed to bind a couple of paddles together; and then, rowing slowly on, I was thinking that my labour had been all in vain unless I could manage still to save the gold, when, happening one day to turn round to look upstream, I saw that, Mas’r Harry, as seemed to give me life, and hope, and strength all in a moment; and you know the rest.”