by Tom Bevan
Chapter XXXIV.
FLOOD AND FEVER.
The Indians were as good as their word. Headed by the chief's canoe,the adventurers passed in steady procession through more than a hundredmiles of delta waterways. Progress was slow, for, though the currentin the cross channels was not strong, the wind was hardly felt; theheat was stifling, and rest during the midday hours absolutelynecessary. Then there were villages to be visited, presents to be madeto the chieftains, and feasts to be eaten in return. Haste wasimpossible, though very desirable. The rains were beginning, the riverwould soon be in flood, and pestilence would stalk through the swampyregions like a destroying angel.
At last the apex of the delta was reached, and the broadriver--stretching miles from bank to bank--lay before the navigators.The milk-white current, laden with chalky washings from the land, sweptby in a mighty flood. On its bosom floated trees and detached massesof soil, going northwards to build up the growing delta. But for thewind and the guidance of the natives the adventurers would have made noheadway against the mighty volume of the waters. Happily theNorth-East Trades from the Atlantic, unimpeded by mountain or hill,blew with steady and strong persistence across the flat delta and alongthe level plains through which the river made its way. Sandbanks inthe bed diverted the current here and there, making quiet, lake-likepools under the banks. The Indians knew of these, and skilfully madeuse of them. Sails were spread to the breeze, and the flotilla wentsteadily on its way.
One week went by, and then another. The weather grew worse and worse.Terrific storms swept across the plains, lashing the Orinoco into fury,tearing down the mighty trees on its banks, and deluging the intrepidvoyagers. The banks of the stream were almost lost; hundreds of squaremiles of forest-clad plain were under water, the tree-tops aloneshowing the navigators the true course of the river. The flood flowingsea-wards became thicker, deeper, and mightier than ever. The humidheat of the stormy summer became well-nigh unbearable. Men sickened,and in a few cases died. Camping ground at night was almostunobtainable, and thick, poisonous mists enwreathed the boats duringthe hours of darkness, fevering the men's blood, cramping andstiffening their limbs. It became imperative to call a halt for awhile; the enfeebled rowers made scant progress against thestrengthening current, and the success achieved was not worth theeffort that was made. A pile-supported village was sighted, and theIndian guides turned their boat thither, the others following.
The village stood on some rising ground on the western bank of thestream, and in the dry season must have been at least half a mile fromthe margin of the waters. Now the floods rolled between the piles,submerging at least ten feet of them. Native canoes were tethered tothe supports, and the house platforms were soon covered with knots ofbrown-skinned fellows full of anxiety and apprehension concerning theoncoming fleet. They knew the ship's boats for those used by the whitemen who came trading or raiding along the river, and wondered to findthem attempting a voyage at such a time. The friendly Indians wentforward and explained who the white men were, and what they wanted, andthe villagers proved kind and confiding, as indeed had all the nativesdwelling along the river. They gave up room in their huts to thefevered men, sleeping out on the platforms themselves, and for a fewdays the expedition rested and recuperated.
The sun had set, the moon was above the tree-tops, steadily making forits zenith. A group of three--Johnnie Morgan, Timothy Jeffreys, andDan Pengelly--sat on the platform of one of the huts, their legsdangling over the edge within a couple of feet of the water. The dayhad been fiercely hot, and the water around had steamed like a smokingcauldron. With the moon had come a brisk breeze, that swept thestagnant, mouldy vapours away, and left a clear landscape and cool air.Dan was stuffing tobacco into a pipe of bamboo, and urging the twogentlemen to follow his example, the smoke of the weed being, hedeclared, an antidote against the malarial poisons breathed out by thefoul mud and rotting vegetation that surrounded them. The old sailorhad enjoyed marvellously good health throughout the river voyage, and,forgetting his previous travels, and the natural toughness of hisconstitution, put his happy condition down to his daily pipes of thefragrant Indian weed. But his two companions were too languid forindulgence in smoking. Their heads were giddy, their hearts throbbing,and their stomachs at war with all solid food. The tropical marshfever had them in its grip, and the grasp was tightening every moment.The trees swayed dismally in the breeze, and the birds chatteredquerulously at being disturbed. The waters "lap, lapped" monotonouslyagainst the piles, and horny-backed alligators nosed amongst them,seeking for scraps and offal or any stray eatables that came their way.Moths and fireflies flitted about in such numbers that the air seemedalive with them. All around was a vast, shallow, fresh-watersea--rolling, heaving, sucking, lapping, shimmering under the tropicalmoon. A night full of majesty, beauty, mystery, and death.
Dan curled himself comfortably against a pillar, closed his eyes, andsmoked with keen enjoyment. Morgan and Jeffreys gazed for a while withaching eyes at the weird scene around; then the heavy lids dropped, andthey fell a-dreaming.
Johnnie was back in the cool forest by Severn side; the oaks and thebeeches swayed above him, and the bracken rustled as a rabbit scuttledthrough. The nightingale was singing his love song to his mate and themoon, and the dull, far-off roar of the rushing tide sounded a lowaccompaniment to the song. Gone were the white, warm, mud-ladenwaters, the floating trunks, the screaming parrots, the croaking frogs,the howling beasts; the glare of the sun no longer hurt his eyes, andits fierce heat no longer sent his brain throbbing and burning. Theair was cool, the bracken sweet, and the bird trilled out itspassionate music. Why should he sit uncomfortably propped against atree? He would lie down, and let the fresh, green fronds curl abovehim. He sighed, his limbs relaxed, he swayed--he fell with a heavysplash into the warm, lapping waters!
A nosing alligator swished his tail against a pile and darted off insudden alarm; but he came round again speedily, just as thehalf-fainting man roused sufficiently to be conscious that he was inthe water. Jeffreys was asleep, but Dan's sailor senses were alert inan instant. His eyes opened, he glanced around, missed Morgan, andpeered over into the flood. The fallen man cried out, and the hugereptile that had espied him moved off again. Dan saw both, shouted inalarm, and hurled a handy log at the prowling horror; then he swunghimself, monkey fashion, down a stout pile, seized Morgan by the hair,and brought him so that he got a grip of the platform. A minute laterJohnnie swung himself into safety, and only just in time, for more thanone scaly reptile had scented the feast, and was hurrying through themoonlit waters, eager and voracious. This unlucky sousing in the floodsettled the grip of the fever on Morgan. When next he sunned himselfon the platform the waters had subsided, the mud was baked andcracking, and the major portion of the expedition leagues awaysouthwards.
