And they _were_ required, but not obtained. On the galatea putting intothe port of Coary, it was found that nearly every man in the place wasoff upon a hunting excursion,--turtle and cow-fish being the game thathad called them out. Not a canoe-man could be had for love or money.
The owner of the galatea endeavoured to tempt the Ega crew to continueanother stage. It was contrary to their habit, and they refused to go.Persuasion and threats were tried in vain. Coaxing and scolding provedequally unavailable; all except one remained firm in their refusal, theexception being an old Indian who did not belong to the Ega tribe, andwho could not resist the large bribe offered by Trevannion.
The voyagers must either suspend their journey till the Coaryturtle-hunters should return, or proceed without paddlers. The hunterswere not expected for a month. To stay a month at Coary was out of thequestion. The galatea must go on manned by her own people, and the oldIndian who was to act as pilot. Such was the determination of RalphTrevannion. But for that resolve,--rash as it was, and endingunfortunately for him who made it,--we should have no story to tell.
CHAPTER FOUR.
DRIFTING WITH THE CURRENT.
The craft that carried the ex-miner, his family and following, once morefloated on the broad bosom of the Solimoes. Not so swift as before,since, instead of eight paddlers, it was now impelled by only half thenumber,--these, too, with less than half the experience of the crew whohad preceded them.
The owner himself acted as steersman, while the paddles were plied by"Tipperary Tom," Mozey, the old Indian,--who, being of the Mundurucutribe, passed by the name of "Munday,"--and Richard Trevannion.
The last, though by far the youngest, was perhaps the best paddler inthe party. Brought up in his native place of Gran Para, he had beenaccustomed to spend half his time either in or upon the water; and anoar or paddle was to him no novelty.
Young Ralph, on the contrary, a true mountaineer, knew nothing ofeither, and therefore counted for nothing among the crew of the galatea.To him and the little Rosa was assigned the keeping of the pets, withsuch other light duties as they were capable of performing.
For the first day the voyage was uninterrupted by any incident,--atleast any that might be called unpleasant. Their slow progress, it istrue, was a cause of dissatisfaction; but so long as they were going atall, and going in the right direction, this might be borne withequanimity. Three miles an hour was about their average rate of speed;for half of which they were indebted to the current of the river, andfor the other half to the impulsion of their paddles.
Considering that they had still a thousand miles to go before reachingGran Para, the prospect of a protracted voyage was very plainly outlinedbefore them.
Could they have calculated on making three miles an hour for every hourof the twenty-four, things would not have been bad. This rate of speedwould have carried them to their destination in a dozen days,--a merebagatelle. But they knew enough of river-navigation to disregard suchdata. They knew the current of the Solimoes to be extremely slow; theyhad heard of the strange phenomenon, that, run which way the rivermight, north, south, east, or west,--and it _does_ keep bending andcurving in all these directions,--the wind is almost always met withblowing _up stream_!
For this reason they could put no dependence in their sail, and wouldhave to trust altogether to the paddles. These could not be always inthe water. Human strength could not stand a perpetual spell, even atpaddles; and less so in the hands of a crew of men so little used tothem.
Nor could they continue the voyage at night. By doing so, they would bein danger of losing their course, their craft, and themselves!
You may smile at the idea. You will ask--a little scornfully, perhaps--how a canoe, or any other craft, drifting down a deep river to itsdestination, could possibly go astray. Does not the current point outthe path,--the broad waterway not to be mistaken?
So it might appear to one seated in a skiff, and floating down thetranquil Thames, with its well-defined banks. But far different is theaspect of the stupendous Solimoes to the voyager gliding through its_Capo_.
I have made use of a word of strange sound, and still strangersignification. Perhaps it is new to your eye, as your oar. You willbecome better acquainted with it before the end of our voyage; for intothe "Gapo" it is my intention to take you, where ill-luck carried thegalatea and her crew.
On leaving Coary, it was not the design of her owner to attempt takinghis craft, so indifferently manned, all the way to Para. He knew therewere several civilised settlements between,--as Barra at the mouth ofthe Rio Negro, Obidos below it, Santarem, and others. At one or otherof these places he expected to obtain a supply of _tapuyos_, to replacethe crew who had so provokingly forsaken him.
The voyage to the nearest of them, however, would take several days, atthe rate of speed the galatea was now making; and the thought of beingdelayed on their route became each hour more irksome. The ex-miner, whohad not seen his beloved brother during half a score of years, wasimpatient once more to embrace him. He had been, already, severalmonths travelling towards him by land and water; and just as he wasbeginning to believe that the most difficult half of the journey hadbeen accomplished, he found himself delayed by an obstruction vexatiousas unexpected.
The first night after his departure from Coary, he consented that thegalatea should lie to,--moored to some bushes that grew upon the banksof the river.
On the second night, however, he acted with less prudence. Hisimpatience to make way prompted him to the resolution to keep on. Thenight was clear,--a full moon shining conspicuously above, which is notalways the case in the skies of the Solimoes.
There was to be no sail set, no use made of the paddles. The crew werefatigued, and wanted rest and repose. The current alone was to favourtheir progress; and as it appeared to be running nearly two miles anhour, it should advance them between twenty and thirty miles before themorning.
The Mundurucu made an attempt to dissuade his "patron" from the coursehe designed pursuing; but his advice was disregarded,--perhaps becauseill-understood,--and the galatea glided on.
Who could mistake that broad expanse of water--upon which the moon shoneso clearly--for aught else than the true channel of the Solimoes? NotTipperary Tom, who, in the second watch of the night,--the owner himselfhaving kept the first,--acted as steersman of the galatea.
The others had gone to sleep. Trevannion and the three young peopleunder the toldo; Mozey and the Mundurucu along the staging known as the"hold." The birds and monkeys were at rest on their respective perches,and in their respective cages,--all was silent in the galatea, andaround,--all save the rippling of the water, as it parted to thecleaving of her keel.
CHAPTER FIVE.
THE GALATEA AGROUND.
Little experienced as he was in the art of navigation, the steersman wasnot inattentive to his duty. Previously to his taking the rudder, hehad been admonished about the importance of keeping the craft in thechannel of the stream, and to this had he been giving his attention.
It so chanced, however, that he had arrived at a place where there weretwo channels,--as if an island was interposed in the middle of theriver, causing it to branch at an acute angle. Which of these was theright one? Which should be taken? These were the questions thatoccurred to Tipperary Tom.
At first he thought of awakening his master, and consulting him, but ononce more glancing at the two channels, he became half convinced thatthe broader one must be the proper route to be followed.
"Bay Japers!" muttered he to himself. "Shure I can't be mistaken. Thebiggest av the two ought to be the mane sthrame. Anyway, I won't wakethe masther. I'll lave it to the ship to choose for hersilf." Sayingthis he relaxed his hold upon the steering oar, and permitted thegalatea to drift with the current.
Sure enough, the little craft inclined towards the branch that appearedthe broader one; and in ten minutes' time had made such way that theother opening was no longer visible from her decks. The steers
man,confident of being on the right course, gave himself no furtheruneasiness; but, once more renewing his hold upon the steering oar,guided the galatea in the middle of the channel.
Notwithstanding all absence of suspicion as to having gone astray, hecould not help noticing that the banks on each side appeared to besingularly irregular, as if here and there indented by deep bays, orreaches of water. Some of these opened out vistas of shining surface,apparently illimitable, while the dark patches that separated themlooked more like clumps of trees half-submerged under water thanstretches of solid earth.
As the galatea continued her course, this puzzling phenomenon ceased tobe a conjecture; Tipperary Tom saw that he was no longer steering down ariver between two boundary banks, but on a broad expanse of water,stretching as far as eye could reach, with no other boundary than thatafforded by a _flooded forest_.
There was nothing in all this to excite alarm,--at least in the mind ofTipperary Tom. The Mundurucu, had he been awake, might have shown someuneasiness at the situation. But the Indian was asleep,--perhapsdreaming of some Mura enemy,--whose head he would have been happy toembalm.
Tom simply supposed himself to be in some part of the Solimoes floodedbeyond its banks, as he had seen it in more places than one. With thisconfidence, he stuck faithfully to his steering oar, and allowed thegalatea to glide on. It was only when the reach of water--upon whichthe craft was drifting--began to narrow, or rather after it had narrowedto a surprising degree, that the steersman began to suspect himself ofhaving taken the wrong course.
His suspicions became stronger, at length terminating in a convictionthat such was the truth, when the galatea arrived at a part where lessthan a cable's length lay between her beam-ends and the bushes thatstood out of the water on both sides of her. Too surely had he strayedfrom the "mane sthrame." The craft that carried him could no longer bein the channel of the mighty Solimoes!
The steersman was alarmed, and this very alarm hindered him fromfollowing the only prudent course he could have taken under thecircumstances. He should have aroused his fellow-voyagers, andproclaimed the error into which he had fallen. He did not do so. Asense of shame at having neglected his duty, or rather at havingperformed it in an indifferent manner,--a species of regret not uncommonamong his countrymen,--hindered him from disclosing the truth, andtaking steps to avert any evil consequences that might spring from it.
He knew nothing of the great river on which they were voyaging. There_might_ be such a strait as that through which the galatea was gliding.The channel might widen below; and, after all, he might have steered inthe proper direction. With such conjectures, strengthened by suchhopes, he permitted the vessel to float on.
The channel _did_ widen again; and the galatea once more rode upon openwater. The steersman was restored to confidence and contentment. Onlyfor a short while did this state of mind continue. Again the clearwater became contracted, this time to a very strip, while on either sideextended reaches and estuaries, bordered by half-submerged bushes,--someof them opening apparently to the sky horizon, wider and freer fromobstruction than that upon which the galatea was holding her course.
The steersman no longer thought of continuing his course, which he wasnow convinced must be the wrong one. Bearing with all his strength uponthe steering oar, he endeavoured to direct the galatea back into thechannel through which he had come; but partly from the drifting of thecurrent, and partly owing to the deceptive light of the moon, he couldno longer recognise the latter, and, dropping the rudder in despair, hepermitted the vessel to drift whichever way the current might carry her!
Before Tipperary Tom could summon courage to make known to hiscompanions the dilemma into which he had conducted them, the galatea haddrifted among the tree-tops of the flooded forest, where she wasinstantly "brought to anchor."
The crashing of broken boughs roused her crew from their slumbers. Theex-miner, followed by his children, rushed forth from the toldo. He wasnot only alarmed, but perplexed, by the unaccountable occurrence. Mozeywas equally in a muddle. The only one who appeared to comprehend thesituation was the old Indian, who showed sufficient uneasiness as to itsconsequences by the terrified manner in which he called out: "The Gapo!The Gapo!"
CHAPTER SIX.
THE MONKEY-POTS.
"The Gapo?" exclaimed the master of the craft. "What is it, Munday?"
"The Gapo?" repeated Tipperary Tom, fancying by the troubled expressionon the face of the Indian that he had conducted his companions towardsome terrible disaster. "Phwat is it, Manday?"
"Da Gapoo?" simultaneously interrogated the negro, the whites of hiseyeballs shining in the moonlight. "What be dat?"
The Mundurucu made reply only by a wave of his hand, and a glance aroundhim, as if to say, "Yes, the Gapo; you see we're in it."
The three interrogators were as much in the dark as ever. Whether theGapo was fish, flesh, or fowl, air, fire, or water, they could not evenguess. There was but one upon the galatea besides the Indian himselfwho knew the signification of the word which had created such asensation among the crew, and this was young Richard Trevannion.
"It's nothing, uncle," said he, hastening to allay the alarm around him;"old Munday means that we've strayed from the true channel of theSolimoes, and got into the flooded forest,--that's all."
"The flooded forest?"
"Yes. What you see around us, looking like low bushes, are the tops oftall trees. We're now aground on the branches of a _sapucaya_,--aspecies of the Brazil-nut, and among the tallest of Amazonian trees.I'm right,--see! there are the nuts themselves!" As the young Paraensespoke, he pointed to some pericarps, large as cocoa-nuts, that were seendepending from the branches among which the galatea had caught.Grasping one of them in his hand, he wrenched it from the branch; but ashe did so, the husk dropped off, and the prism-shaped nuts fell like ashower of huge hailstones on the roof of the _toldo_. "Monkey-potsthey're called," continued he, referring to the empty pericarp still inhis hand. "That's the name by which the Indians know them; because themonkeys are very fond of these nuts."
"But the Gapo?" interrupted the ex-miner, observing that the expressivelook of uneasiness still clouded the brow of the Mundurucu.
"It's the Indian name for the great inundation," replied Richard, in thesame tranquil tone. "Or rather I should say, the name for it in the_lingoa-geral_."
"And what is there to fear? Munday has frightened us all, and seemsfrightened himself. What is the cause?"
"That I can't tell you, uncle. I know there are queer stories about theGapo,--tales of strange monsters that inhabit it,--huge serpents,enormous apes, and all that sort of thing. I never believed them,though the _tapuyos_ do; and from old Munday's actions I suppose he putsfull faith in them."
"The young patron is mistaken," interposed the Indian, speaking a patoisof the _lingoa-geral_. "The Mundurucu does not believe in monsters. Hebelieves in big serpents and monkeys,--he has seen them."
"But shure yez are not afeerd o' them, Manday?" asked the Irishman.
The Indian only replied by turning on Tipperary Tom a most scornfullook.
"What is the use of this alarm?" inquired Trevannion. "The galatea doesnot appear to have sustained any injury. We can easily get her out ofher present predicament, by lopping off the branches that are holdingher."
"Patron," said the Indian, still speaking in a serious tone, "it may notbe so easy as you think. We may get clear of the tree-top in tenminutes. In as many hours--perhaps days--we may not get clear of theGapo. That is why the Mundurucu shows signs of apprehension."
"Ho! You think we may have a difficulty in finding our way back to thechannel of the river?"
"Think it, patron! I am too sure of it. If not, we shall be in thebest of good luck."
"It's of no use trying to-night, at all events," pursued Trevannion, ashe glanced uncertainly around him. "The moon is sinking over thetree-tops. Before we could well get adrift, she'll be gone out ofsight. We might only drift de
eper into the maze. Is that your opinion,Munday?"
"It is, patron. We can do no good by leaving the place to-night. Wiserfor us to wait for the light of the sun."
"Let all go to rest, then," commanded the patron, "and be ready for workin the morning. We need keep no lookout, I should think. The galateais as safe here as if moored in a dry dock. She is _aground_, I takeit, upon the limb of a tree! Ha! ha! ha!"
The thought of such a situation for a sailing craft--moored amid thetops of a tall tree--was of so ludicrous a nature as to elicit a peal oflaughter from the patron, which was echoed by the rest of the crew, theMundurucu alone excepted. His countenance still preserved itsexpression of uneasiness; and long after the others had sunk intounconscious sleep, he sat upon the stem of the galatea, gazing out intothe gloom, with glances that betokened serious apprehension.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
THE GAPO.
The young Paraense had given a correct, although not sufficientlyexplicit, account of the sort of place in which the galatea had gone"aground."
That singular phenomenon known as the _Gapo_ (or _Ygapo_), and which isone of the most remarkable characteristics of the great Amazonianregion, demands a more detailed description. It is worthy of this, as amere study of physical geography,--perhaps as pleasant a science as any;and furthermore, it is here absolutely necessary to the understanding ofour tale. Without some comprehension of the circumstances thatsurrounded them, the hardships and sufferings endured, the adventuresaccomplished, and the perils passed by the crew of the strayed galatea,would appear as so many fabulous inventions, set forth to stimulate andgratify a taste for the merely marvellous. Young reader, this is notthe aim of your author, nor does he desire it to be the end. On thecontrary, he claims to draw Nature with a verisimilitude that willchallenge the criticism of the naturalist; though he acknowledges apredilection for Nature in her wildest aspects,--for scenes leastexposed to the eye of civilisation, and yet most exposed to its doubtingincredulity.