by Tom Bevan
Chapter XXXV.
A FOE.
Johnnie Morgan was not the only sick man left behind in the Indianvillage. Master Jeffreys had had the strong hand of the fever uponhim; and the son of the parson of Newnham, like his neighbour andfriend the Blakeney yeoman, found the air of the Orinoco lessinvigorating than the air of the Severn. With the three sick men hadbeen left three sound men as guard and escort. Two of these, theJohnsons, had elected to remain with their friend Master Timothy, and asoldier had been chosen to keep them company. Johnnie was the last ofthe three invalids to recover; indeed, the others had made plans fortheir journey in the wake of the main expedition long before he was fitto take his place in the boat.
It was fortunate for the six left behind that all, save one, wereexperienced navigators, and that two of these had had the opportunityof sailing boats on the Severn, the most treacherous of all Englishtidal rivers. The boat built after the fashion of a native canoe wasleft for them; they rigged a mast and small sail, fixed a rudder, and,with a native of the village as guide, set off a little after sunriseone morning.
For many days the voyage was uneventful enough. Captain Drake had gonebefore, and the natives were everywhere eager to welcome the Englishmenand render them every assistance. They were warned of dangers in theriver, which still ran strongly, and was in places a couple of miles inwidth. Guides were readily provided, and everything done to hastenthem on their way. Their light boat went splendidly; they were sparedmany of the ceremonious visitations that had fallen upon their captain,and often, during the day, made two miles of progress to one made byhim over the same stretch of river. Each sunset found them nearer andnearer to the main body, and they were quick to notice that the latterwere going slower and slower every day.
The country was no longer monotonously flat, as it had been whilst theriver swept along through the llanos. Hills now rose up to right andleft; great mountains loomed up dimly against the skyline; and the low,muddy banks gave way to towering limestone cliffs, their naturalwhiteness hidden by the luxuriant, clinging vegetation. Shallows inthe river were no longer sandy and sluggish, but rapids were thedangers to navigation. The air was cooler and fresher, the vegetationwas that of drier soil and drier atmosphere, insect life was lessnoxious, and the labours of the way grew more endurable.
But as the perils from nature decreased, those to be apprehended fromman increased. The adventurers had long passed the most southerlypoint of Spanish influence. Hitherto they had found docile Indians,who had learned to fear the white man and his strange weapons, and tohate one section of the white race--namely, the Spanish. TheEnglishmen were white, and possessed the moral power of the race overruder peoples; they also came as foes and rivals to those whoill-treated the long-suffering native; hence they had been everywheretreated with awe, not unmixed with real affection. As far as theinhabitants of the land were concerned, their voyage had been a sort oftriumphal procession.
But inhabitants of hilly or mountainous land are always hardier andless docile than their brethren of the fat plains. The Indians on thehilly fringes of the Orinoco basin were no exception to this rule.They had heard of the white man; refugees from the lower lands hadspread reports of his rapacity and cruelty, and of the scorn with whichhe treated the poor brown man. They were resolved that he should notlay hands on them or their treasures without a struggle. And so itcame to pass that one day the messengers of Captain Drake returned tohim with reports of a very rough reception from a native dignitary.
Although annoyed by this rebuff, the adventurers attached but littleimportance to it. Perhaps the native messenger had been clumsy overhis diplomatic dealings; maybe the hill chieftain had misunderstoodhim: a second mission should be sent with suitable presents.Accordingly, two of the gentlemen of the company, attended by half adozen soldiers and as many natives, left the camp on the river-bank andthreaded the steeply-pitched woods to the native village. An Indianscout was thrown out in front, on the flanks, and in the rear, and thewhite men kept solidly together in the centre.
They met with no opposition by the way, and in due time came out of thetrees and found themselves on a plateau about a mile square. On thefarther edge of this stood a cluster of stone-built huts, evidentlysurrounded by a rude but effective wall. Before them stretched fieldsof Indian corn, tall and green after the heavy rains. The evidences ofnative civilization were greater than any the adventurers had hithertomet. They halted for a brief consultation, then went forward again,resolved to do their errand discreetly and warily. Not one inhabitantwas in sight, but, as the wall was neared, slim, brown figures wereespied slipping through the waving grain towards the gate.
A close view of the wall showed that the village was a fortress as wellas a place of habitation. The stones were rough from the hillside, andquite untrimmed, but patience in selection and arrangement had produceda compact rampart that could not easily be shattered or stormed. Thegate was of wood, and towered some feet above the top of the wall. Itwas shut.
Sir John Trelawny was in command of the embassy, and he directed one ofthe soldiers to go forward and sound a summons on his bugle. The mandid so. The musical notes rang back in double echoes from the hills,and brought a hundred dark heads above the ramparts. Again the soldiersent the sweet echoes flying. The strange notes had their effect onthe villagers, for a man came from the gate to the strangers and askedtheir business. The Indian interpreter, who had been carefullyschooled on his way up, and who, moreover, was proud of the trustreposed in him by the formidable white men, gave a dignified andcourteous answer. The white men were, he explained, creatures ofanother world, a world that lay beneath the rising sun; the sun wastheir father, and his glory was in his children's faces. They held thethunder and lightning in the hollow of their hands, and could slay menalmost at a nod. Yet by nature they were kindly and generous, wishingharm to none. They were passing down the river to a city of gold ofwhich they had heard; during the weeks of their voyage they had notlaid an unkindly hand on any man, nor appropriated any man's goods.His own people, and all the tribes along the river, loved andreverenced their white brothers, and would die for them.
The villager listened gravely enough, then swung round towards thegate, saying he would carry the message to his chief faithfully andwithout alteration. At the end of about half an hour he reappeared.His chief would not see the white men, nor provide them with anything.He had heard that the children of the sun were cruel and rapacious,murdering and burning without mercy if they thought that thereby theymight get any of the yellow metal their souls lusted after so strongly.
The interpreter replied that this was true of one section of white men,but his brothers were the enemies of those monsters, warring with themwhenever they met them. His brothers were the lordly eagles, and werecalled "English;" the others were the voracious birds that stalked inthe mud, feeding on garbage; the chief had heard of these last, the"Spaniards."'
The villager went away again, but returned quickly with his messageunaltered; the chief would not trust the strangers. It was useless toask him for guides to any city of gold, or to the shores of any lakesuch as the white men desired. He had never heard of these places, anddid not believe they existed. The whole story was a trick to get thecountry out of the hands of its inhabitants. The trick had worked inthe plains where the men had the hearts and brains of sick women; itwould not succeed with the "Brown Eagles" of the hills. Let the "WhiteEagles" from the sun try their strength and wit against them if they sodesired.
This answer was uncompromising enough, and with it the messengers wentback again to the river. They had looked only into the face of one manof a tribe of a thousand hillmen.
There was a long council round the camp fire that night, and for thefirst time for some weeks sentinels were set, and keen watch and wardkept until daybreak. A further consultation was held in the morning,after each man had slept upon the suggestions of the previous evening.It was not easy to decide upon a course of conduct. Hitherto t
headventurers had pursued their way in peace, and they were anxious toavoid hostilities with the natives. They saw that nothing could begained by fighting the Indians. They were but a small company in astrange land, and a thousand miles and more from the sea; their objectwas gold, not conquest. Should they go on their way, leaving theunfriendly chief in the security of his fastness? By so doing wouldthey be leaving an enemy in their rear? On the other hand, should theybring him to his knees, and teach him to respect and fear the name ofEngland? How would their line of conduct operate on the minds of thenatives? The point was a delicate one. Some were for pushing ahead,reaching their goal, and dealing with the hill village on their return;others were hot to chastise the stubborn Indian at once, and break theback of native opposition at a blow. Such was the Spanish method, andno man could say that the Dons had not gotten wealth enough.
The latter council prevailed, and it was decided to attack the nativestronghold that very night under cover of the darkness. The solitarycannon was taken out of the largest boat and fitted with slings, sothat the Indian allies might carry it. Arquebuses were diligentlycleaned, and all arms and armour attended to.
The forenoon passed busily enough. During the hot hours the men sleptbeneath the trees. An hour before sunset supper was served out, andwhilst the men were eating it, a boat shot round the bend, and a loud"Halloo!" announced the arrival of Morgan and his companions. Thisunexpected addition to the fighting strength was heartily welcomed.
