by Mayne Reid
During these grand fisheries there is much feasting and rejoicing. The"jerked" flesh of the animal, its skin, and, above all, its valuableoil, are exchanged for knives, pigments, trinkets, and, worse still, for_cashaca_ (rum). The last is too freely indulged in; and the fishingrarely comes to a close without weapons being used in a manner to bringwounds, and often death.
As the old Mundurucu had been present at many a hunt of the fish-cow, hewas able to give a graphic account of the scenes he had witnessed, towhich his companions on the log listened with the greatest attention.So interested were they, that it was not till near midnight that theythought of retiring to rest.
CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE.
A SAIL OF SKIN.
By daybreak they were astir upon their new craft; and after breakfastthey set about moving it away from its moorings. This was not so easilyaccomplished. The log was a log in every respect; and though once asplendid silk-cotton-tree, covered with gossamer pods, and standing inairy majesty over the surrounding forest, it now lay as heavy as leadamong the weeds and water-lilies, as if unwilling to be stirred from thespot into which it had drifted.
You may wonder how they were able to move it at all; supposing, as youmust, that they were unprovided with either oars or sails. But theywere not so badly off as that. The whole of the preceding day had notbeen spent in curing the fish-cow. Munday's knife had done otherservice during the afternoon hours, and a pair of paddles had been theresult. Though of a rude kind, they were perfect enough for the purposerequired of them; while at the same time they gave evidence of greatingenuity on the part of the contriver. They had handles of wood, withblades of _bone_, made from the fish-cow's shoulder-blades, which Mundayhad carefully retained with the skin, while allowing the offal to sink.In his own tribe, and elsewhere on the Amazon, he had seen these bonesemployed--and had himself employed them--as a substitute for the spade.Many a cacao patch and field of mandioca had Munday cleared with theshoulder-blade of a fish-cow; and upon odd occasions he had used one fora paddle. It needed only to shaft them; and this had been done bysplicing a pole to each with the tough sipos.
Provided with these paddles, then,--one of them wielded by himself, theother by the sturdy Mozambique,--the log was compelled to make waythrough the water. The progress was necessarily slow, on account of thetangle of long stalks and broad leaves of the lilies. But it promisedto improve, when they should get beyond these into the open part of thelagoon. Out there, moreover, they could see that there was a rippleupon the water; which proved that a breeze had sprung up, notperceptible inside the sheltering selvage of the trees, blowing in theright direction,--that is, from the trees, and towards the lagoa.
You may suppose that the wind could not be of much use to them with sucha craft,--not only without a rudder, but unprovided with sails. Sothought they all except the old tapuyo. But the Indian had not beennavigating the Gapo for more than forty years of his life, withoutlearning how to construct a sail; and, if nothing else had turned up, hecould have made a tolerable substitute for one out of many kinds ofbroad, tough leaves,--especially those of the _miriti_ palm.
He had not revealed his plans to any one of the party. Men of his racerarely declare their intentions until the moment of carrying them intoexecution. There is a feeling of proud superiority that hinders suchcondescension. Besides, he had not yet recovered from the sting ofhumiliation that succeeded the failure of his swimming enterprise; andhe was determined not to commit himself again, either by too soondeclaring his designs, or too confidently predicting their successfulexecution.
It was not, therefore, till a stout pole had been set up in a hollow dugout by his knife in the larger end of the log, two cross pieces firmlylashed to it by sipos, and the skin of the fish-cow spread out againstthese like a huge thick blanket of caoutchouc, and attached to them bythe same cordage of creepers,--it was not till then that his companionsbecame fully acquainted with his object in having cut poles, scooped thehollow, and retained the skin of the cow, as he had done to theirprevious bewilderment.
It was all clear now; and they could not restrain themselves from givinga simultaneous cheer, as they saw the dull dead-wood, under theimpulsion of the skin sail, commence a more rapid movement, until itseemed to "walk the water like a thing of life."
CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO.
BECALMED.
Once out on the open lagoa, and fairly under sail, in what directionshould they steer their new craft? They wanted to reach the other sideof the lagoa, which the Indian believed to extend in the right directionfor finding _terra firma_. They had skirted the edge upon which theywere for several miles, without finding either the sign of land or anopening by which they might penetrate through the forest, and it was butnatural that they should wish to make trial the other side, in the hopeof meeting with better fortune.
Mozey, who prided himself on being the best sailor aboard, was intrustedwith the management of the sail, while Trevannion himself acted aspilot. The Indian busied himself in looking after the curing of thecharqui, which, by the help of such a hot sun as was shining down uponthem, would soon be safely beyond the chance of decay. The youngpeople, seated together near the thick end of the log--which Mozey hadfacetiously christened the quarter-deck of the craft--occupiedthemselves as they best might.
The cloud that had shadowed them for days was quite dispelled. Withsuch a raft, there was every expectation of getting out of the Gapo. Itmight not be in a day, or even in a week. But time was of littleconsequence, so long as there was a prospect of ultimate release fromthe labyrinth of flooded forests. The charqui, if economised, wouldfeed all hands for a fortnight, at least; and unless they should againget stranded among the tree-tops they could scarcely be all that timebefore reaching dry land.
Their progress was sadly slow. Their craft has been described as"walking the water like a thing of life." But this is rather a poeticalexaggeration. Its motion was that of a true dead-wood, heavily weightedwith the water that for weeks had been saturating its sides. It barelyyielded to the sail; and had they been forced to depend upon thepaddles, it would have been a hopeless affair. A mile an hour was themost they were able to make; and this only when the breeze was at itsfreshest. At other times, when it unfortunately lulled, the log layupon the water with no more motion than they caused as they stepped overit.
Towards noon their progress became slower; and when at length themeridian hour arrived the ceiba stood still. The sail had lost thepower of propelling it on. The breeze had died away, and there was nowa dead calm. The shoulder-blades of the peixe-boi were now resorted to,but neither these, nor the best pair of oars that ever pulled aman-o'-war's boat, could have propelled that tree-trunk through thewater faster than half a knot to the hour, and the improvised paddleswere soon laid aside.
There was one comfort in the delay. The hour of dinner had now arrived,and the crew were not unprepared for the midday meal; for in their hurryat setting out, and the solicitude arising from their uncertainty abouttheir craft, they had breakfasted scantily. Their dinner was to consistof but one dish, a cross between fish and flesh,--a cross between freshand dried,--for the peixe-boi was still but half converted into charqui.
The Indian had carefully guarded the fire, the kindling of which hadcost him so much trouble and ingenuity. A few sparks still smoulderedwhere they had been nursed; and, with some decayed pieces of the ceibaitself, a big blaze was once more established. Over this the choicesttit-bits were suspended until their browned surface proclaimed them"done to a turn." Their keen appetites furnished both sauce andseasoning; and when the meal was over, all were ready to declare thatthey had never dined more sumptuously in their lives. Hunger is thebest appetiser; scarcity comes next.
They sat after dinner conversing upon different themes, and doing thebest they could to while away the time,--the only thing that at alldiscommoded them being the beams of the sun, which fell upon theircrowns like sparks of fire showered from a burning sky. Tom's idea wasthat the heat of
the sun could be endured with greater ease in the waterthan upon the log; and, to satisfy himself, he once more girdled on thecincture of shells, and slipped over the side. His example was followedby the patron himself, his son and nephew.
Little Rosa did not need to retreat overboard in this ignominiousmanner. She was in the shade, under a tiny _toldo_ of broad leaves of a_Pothos_ plant, which, growing parasitically upon one of the trees, hadbeen plucked the day before, and spread between two buttresses of thedead-wood. Her cousin had constructed this miniature arbour, and prouddid he appear to see his little sylph reclining under its shade.
The tapuyo, accustomed to an Amazonian sun, did not require to keep coolby submerging himself; and as for the negro, he would scarce have beendiscommoded by an atmosphere indicated by the highest figure on thethermometer. These two men, though born on opposite sides of theAtlantic Ocean, were alike types of a tropical existence, and equallydisregarded the fervour of a tropic sun.
Suddenly the four, who had fallen a little astern, were seen makingtowards the log; and by the terror depicted on their countenances, aswell as their quick, irregular strokes, it was evident something in thewater had caused them serious alarm. What could it all mean? It was ofno use to ask the swimmers themselves. They were as ignorant of whatwas alarming them as their companions upon the log; they only knew thatsomething was biting them about the legs and feet; but what it was theyhad not the slightest idea. It might be an insect,--it might be awater-snake, or other amphibious reptile; but whatever it was, theycould tell that its teeth were sharp as needles, and scored their fleshlike fish-hooks.
It was not till they had gained footing upon the log, and their legswere seen covered with lacerations, and streaming with fresh blood, thatthey ascertained the sort of enemy that had been attacking them. Hadthe water been clear, they might have discovered it long before; butdiscoloured as it was, they could not see beneath the surface far enoughto make out the character of their secret assailants. But the tapuyowell understood the signs, and, as soon as his eye rested upon them, hisperplexity disappeared; and, with an exclamation that rather betokenedrelief, he pronounced the simple phrase, "Only _piranhas_!"
CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE.
THE PIRANHAS.
The companions of the tapuyo were no wiser for his words, until piranhaswas explained to them to mean "biting fish," for such were the unseenenemies that assailed them.
They belong to the great tribe of the _Salmonidae_, of which there aremany varieties in the different Amazonian rivers, all very voracious,and ready to bite at anything that may be thrown into the water. Theyoften attack bathers, putting them to flight; and a swimmer who shouldunfortunately be surrounded by them, when far from the shore or a boat,would have the greatest difficulty to escape the fearful late of beingeaten up alive. Most of the species are fish of small size, and it istheir numbers that the swimmer has chiefly to dread.
As it was, our adventurers were more scared than hurt. The commotionwhich they had made in the water, by their plunging and kicking, hadkept the piranhas at a distance, and it was only an odd one that hadbeen able to get a tooth into them.
For any injury they had sustained, the Mundurucu promised them not onlya speedy revenge, but indemnification of a more consolatory kind. Heknew that the piranhas, having tasted blood, would not willingly wanderaway, at least for a length of time. Although he could not see thelittle fish through the turbid water, he was sure they were still in theneighbourhood of the log, no doubt in search of the prey that had somysteriously escaped them. As the dead-wood scarcely stirred, ordrifted only slightly, the piranhas could keep alongside, and seeeverything that occurred without being seen themselves. This the tapuyoconcluded they were doing. He knew their reckless voracity,--how theywill suddenly spring at anything thrown into the water, and swallowwithout staying to examine it.
Aware of this habit, he had no difficulty in determining what to do.There was plenty of bait in the shape of half-dried charqui, but not afish-hook to be found. A pair of pins, however, supplied thedeficiency, and a piece of string was just right for a line. This wasfastened at one end to the pashuba spear, to the pin-hook at the other;and then, the latter being baited with a piece of peixe-boi, the fishingcommenced.
Perhaps never with such rude tackle was there more successful angling.Almost as soon as the bait sank under the water, it was seized by apiranha, which was instantly jerked out of its native element, andlanded on the log. Another and another and another, till a score of thecreatures lay upon the top of the dead-wood, and Tipperary Tom gave themthe finishing touch, as they were caught, with a cruel eagerness thatmight to some extent have been due to the smarting of his shins.
How long the "catch" might have continued it is difficult to say. Thelittle fish were hooked as fast as fresh bait could be adjusted, and itseemed as if the line of succession was never to end. It did end,however, in an altogether unexpected way, by one of the piranhasdropping back again into the water, and taking, not only the bait, butthe hook and a portion of the line along with it, the string havinggiven away at a weak part near the end of the rod.
Munday, who knew that the little fish were excellent to eat, would havecontinued to take them so long as they were willing to be taken, and forthis purpose the dress of Rosita was despoiled of two more pins, and afresh piece of string made out of the skin of the cow-fish.
When the new tackle was tried, however, he discovered to hisdisappointment that the piranhas would no longer bite; not so much as anibble could be felt at the end of the string. They had had time forreflection, perhaps had held counsel among themselves, and come to theconclusion that the game they had been hitherto playing was "snapdragon"of a dangerous kind, and that it was high time to desist from it.
The little incident, at first producing chagrin, was soon viewed ratherwith satisfaction. The wounds received were so slight as scarce to beregarded, and the terror of the thing was over as soon as it becameknown what tiny creatures had inflicted them. Had it been snakes,alligators, or any animals of the reptile order, it might have beenotherwise. But a school of handsome little fishes,--who could supposethat there had been any danger in their attack?
There had been, nevertheless, as the tapuyo assured them,--backing uphis assurance by the narrative of several narrow escapes he had himselfhad from being torn to pieces by their sharp triangular teeth, furtherconfirming his statements by the account of an Indian, one of his owntribe, who had been eaten piecemeal by piranhas.
It was in the river Tapajos, where this species of fish is found ingreat plenty. The man had been in pursuit of a peixe-boi, which he hadharpooned near the middle of the river, after attaching his weapon byits cord to the bow of his montaria. The fish being a strong one, andnot wounded in a vital part, had made a rush to get off, carrying thecanoe along with it. The harpooner, standing badly balanced in hiscraft, lost his balance and fell overboard. While swimming to overtakethe canoe, he was attacked by a swarm of piranhas ravenous for prey,made so perhaps by the blood of the peixe-boi left along the water. TheIndian was unable to reach the canoe; and notwithstanding the mostdesperate efforts to escape, he was ultimately compelled to yield to hismyriad assailants.
His friends on shore saw all, without being able to render the slightestassistance. They saw his helpless struggles, and heard his lastdespairing shriek, as he sank below the surface of the water. Hasteningto their canoes, they paddled, rapidly out to the spot where theircomrade had disappeared. All they could discern was a skeleton lyingalong the sand at the bottom of the river, clean picked as if it hadbeen prepared for an anatomical museum, while the school of piranhas wasdisporting itself alone, as if engaged in dancing some mazy minuet inhonour of the catastrophe they had occasioned.
CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR.
A STOWAWAY.
The new-caught fishes looked too temptingly fresh to be long untasted;and although it was but an hour since our adventurers had eaten theirdinner, one and all were inclined for an afternoon
meal upon piranha.The Mundurucu set the fire freshly astir, and half a dozen piranhas weresoon browned in the blaze and distributed among the party, who one andall endorsed the tapuyo, by pronouncing them a delicacy.
After the second dinner they were more gay than ever. The sun sinkingwestward indicated the quarters of the compass; and already a few puffsof wind promised them an evening breeze. They saw that it was stillblowing in the same direction, and therefore favourable to thenavigation of their craft, whose thick sail, spread broadly athwartships, seemed eager to catch it.
Little dreamt they at that moment that, as it were, a volcano wasslumbering under their feet; that separated from them by only a fewinches of half-decayed wood was a creature of such monstrous size andhideous shape as to have impressed with a perpetual fear every Indianupon the Amazon, from Para to Peru, from the head waters of the Purus tothe sources of the Japura! At that moment, when they were chattinggaily, even laughingly, in confidence of a speedy deliverance from thegloomy Gapo,--at that very moment the great _Mai d'Agoa_, the "Mother ofthe Waters," was writhing restlessly beneath them, preparing to issueforth from the cavern that concealed her.
The tapuyo was sitting near the fire, picking the bones of a piranha,which he had just taken from the spit, when all at once the half-burnedembers were seen to sink out of sight, dropping down into the log, ascinders into the ash-pit of a dilapidated grate. "Ugh!" exclaimed theIndian, giving a slight start, but soon composing himself; "thedead-wood hollow at the heart! Only a thin shell outside, which thefire has burnt through. I wondered why it floated so lightly,--wet asit was!"
