Afloat in the Forest; Or, A Voyage among the Tree-Tops

by Mayne Reid

  He watched the canoe so long as it remained in sight. The gestures ofthe savages who were in it showed that they were occupied in fishing,though what sort of fish they might be taking in the flooded lake Mundaycould not guess. They stayed about an hour; and then, paddling theircraft back among the trees, were seen no more.

  This gratified the tapuyo and those to whom he made his report. It wasevidence that the harpooner had come out alone, and that, while strikingthe cow-fish, he had not been observed by any of his people. Had thatincident been witnessed, every canoe in possession of the tribe wouldhave instantly repaired to the spot.

  Since the killing of a juaroua is an event of rare occurrence in theseason of the _vasante_, when it does transpire it causes the samejoyful excitement in a malocca of Amazonian Indians as the capture of agreat walrus would in a winter village of Esquimaux. It was, therefore,quite clear to our adventurers, that no suspicion had been aroused as tothe cause of the harpooner's absence from the malocca, and so they wereenabled to endure their imprisonment with calmer confidence, and higherhopes of finally effecting their escape.

  How long would this state of things continue? How long might the Murabe away before his absence should excite suspicion and lead to a search?

  "As to such a thing as this," said Munday, pointing contemptuously tothe shivering captive, "he'll no more be missed than would a coaitamonkey that had strayed from its troop. If he's got a wife, which Idon't suppose he has, she'll be only too glad to get rid of him. As forany one of them coming after him through affection, as you call it,there you're all out, patron. Among Muras there's no such feeling asthat. If they'd seen him strike the juaroua it might have beendifferent. Then their stomachs would have brought them after him, likea flock of hungry vultures. But they haven't seen him; and unlesschance guides some one this way we needn't be in any fear for to-day.As for the morrow, if they'll only stay clear till then, I think I cankeep my promise, and we shall not only be beyond reach of Muras, but outof this wretched lagoa altogether."

  "But you spoke of a plan, good Munday; you have not yet told us what itis."

  "Wait, master," he rejoined; "wait till midnight, till the lights go outin the Mura village, and perhaps a little longer. Then you shall knowmy plan by seeing it carried into execution."

  "But does it not require some preparations? If so, why not make themwhile it is daylight? It is now near night; and you may not have time."

  "Just so, patron; but night is just the preparation I want,--that andthis knife."

  Here Munday exhibited his shining blade, which caused the Mura captiveto tremble all over, thinking that his time was come. During all theday he had not seen them eat. They had no chance to kindle a fire forcooking purposes, apprehensive that the smoke, seen above the tree-tops,might betray them to the enemy. Some of them, with stronger stomachsthan the rest, had gnawed a little of the _charqui_ raw. Most had eatennothing, preferring to wait till they should have an opportunity ofcooking it, which the Mundurucu had promised them they should havebefore morning of the next day. Their abstinence was altogethermisunderstood by the Mura. The wretch thought they were nursing theirhunger to feed upon his flesh.

  Could he have seen himself as he was in their eyes, he might havedoubted the possibility of getting up such an appetite. They had takendue precautions to prevent his making his escape. Tied hand and foot bythe toughest sipos that could be procured, he was also further securedby being fastened to the monguba. A strong lliana, twisted into a rope,and with a turn round one of the buttress projections of the roots, heldhim, though this was superfluous, since any attempt to slide off intothe water must have terminated by his going to the bottom, with neitherhands nor feet free.

  They were determined, however, on making things doubly sure, as theyknew that his escape would be the signal for their destruction. Shouldhe succeed in getting free, he would not need his canoe; he could getback to his village without that, for, as Munday assured them, he couldtravel through the trees with the agility of an ape, or through thewater with the power of a fish; and so could all his people, trained tothe highest skill both in climbing and swimming, from the very nature oftheir existence.

  There was one point upon which Trevannion had had doubts. That was,whether they were really in such danger from the proximity of thispeople as Munday would have them believe. But the aspect of thissavage, who could now be contemplated closely, and with perfectcoolness, was fast solving these doubts; for no one could have looked inhis face and noted the hideous expression there depicted without afeeling of fear, not to say horror. If his tribe were all like him,--and the tapuyo declared that many of them were still uglier,--they musthave formed a community which no sane man would have entered except uponcompulsion.

  No wonder, then, that our adventurers took particular pains to keeptheir captive along with them, since a sure result of his escape wouldbe that they would furnish a feast for the Mura village. Had he beenleft to himself, Munday would have taken still surer precautions againsthis getting off; and it was only in obedience to the sternest commandsof Trevannion that he was withheld from acting up to the old adage,"Dead men tell no tales."

  CHAPTER EIGHTY SIX.

  THE CRY OF THE JAGUAR.

  The night came on without any untoward incident; but no sooner was thesun fairly below the horizon than they became aware of a circumstancethat caused them serious annoyance, if not absolute alarm. They saw thefull round moon rising, and every indication of the most brilliantmoonlight. The Mundurucu, more than any of them, was chagrined at this,because of the importance of having a dark night for carrying out hisscheme, whatever it was. In fact, he had declared that a dark night wasindispensable, or, at all events, one very different from that which thetwilight promised them.

  The original intention had been, as soon as night set in, to get thedead-wood once more into the open water, and then, if the wind should bein their favour, to bend the sail and glide off in any direction thatwould take them away from the malocca. If there should be no wind, theycould use the paddles and creep round the edge of the lagoa, going asfar as might be before another sun should expose them to view. It wasdoubtful whether they could row the dead-wood, before daybreak, beyondeyeshot of the savages; but if not, they could again seek concealmentamong the tree-tops, and wait for night to continue their retreat.

  This intention was likely to be defeated by the clear shining of atropical moon. As she rose higher in the heavens, the lagoa became allwhite effulgence; and as there was not the slightest ripple upon thewater, any dark object passing along its surface would have been seenalmost as distinctly as by day. Even the little canoe could not havebeen carried outside the edge of the trees without the danger of beingseen from afar.

  That the entrance to the arcade and the tree-line outside could be seenfrom the malocca was a thing already determined, for the tapuyo hadtested it during the day. Through the foliage in front of the villagehe could see here and there some portions of the scaffoldings, with the_toldos_ erected upon them, while its position was also determined bythe smoke rising from the different fires.

  As soon as night had come on, he and the young Paraense had made areconnoissance, and from the same place saw the reflection of the firesupon the water below, and the gleaming fires themselves. Of course theywho sat or stood around them could see them, should they attempt to goout with the monguba. This scheme, then, could only be resorted toshould the moon be obscured, or "put out," as Munday said, by clouds orfog.

  Munday admitted that his plan _might_ be put in practice, without theinterposition of either; but in this case it would be ten times moreperilous, and liable to failure. In any case he did not intend to actuntil midnight. After that, any time would do before the hour ofearliest daybreak. Confiding in the craft of the old tapuyo, Trevannionquestioned him no further, but along with the rest waited as patientlyas possible for the event.

  The water-forest was once more ringing with its nocturnal chorus.Tree-toads and f
rogs were sending forth their metallic monotones;_cicadae_ and lizards were uttering their sharp _skirling_ notes, whilebirds of many kinds, night-hawks in the air, _strigidae_ among thetrees, and water-fowl out upon the bosom of the lagoon, were allresponding to one another. From afar came lugubrious vociferations fromthe throats of a troop of howling monkeys that had made their roostamong the branches of some tall, overtopping tree; and once--what wassomething strange--was heard a cry different from all the rest, and onhearing which all the rest suddenly sank into silence.

  That was the cry of the jaguar tiger, the tyrant of the South Americanforest. Munday recognised it on the instant, and so did the others; forthey had heard it often before, while descending the Solimoes. It wouldhave been nothing strange to have heard it on the banks of the mightyriver, or any of its tributaries. But in the Gapo, it was not onlystrange, but significant, that scream of the jaguar. "Surely," saidTrevannion on hearing it, "surely we must be in the neighbourhood ofland."

  "How, patron?" replied the Mundurucu, to whom the remark wasparticularly addressed. "Because we hear the voice of the _jauarite_?Sometimes the great tiger gets overtaken by the inundation, and then,like ourselves, has to take to the tree-tops. But, unlike us, he canswim whenever he pleases, and his instinct soon guides him to the land.Besides, there are places in the Gapo where the land is above water,tracts of high ground that during the _vasante_ become islands. Inthese the _jauarite_ delights to dwell. No fear of his starving there,since he has his victims enclosed, as it were, in a prison, and he canall the more conveniently lay his claws upon them. The cry of that_jauarite_ is no sure sign of dry land. The beast may be twenty milesfrom _terra firma_."

  While they were thus conversing, the cry of the jaguar once moreresounded among the tree-tops, and again was succeeded by silence on thepart of the other inhabitants of the forest.

  There was one exception, however; one kind of creatures not terrifiedinto stillness by the voice of the great cat, whose own voices now heardin the interval of silence, attracted the attention of the listeners.They were the Muras. Sent forth from the malocca, their shouts camepealing across the water, and entered the shadowy aisle where ouradventurers sat in concealment, with tones well calculated to causefear; for nothing in the Gapo gave forth a harsher or more lugubriouschant.

  Munday, however, who had a thorough knowledge of the habits of hisnational enemies, interpreted their tones in a different sense, and drewgood augury from them. He said that, instead of grief, they betokenedjoy. Some bit of good luck had befallen them, such as the capture of acow-fish, or a half-score of monkeys. The sounds signified feasting andfrolic. There was nothing to denote that the sullen savage by theirside was missed from among them. Certainly he was not mourned in themalocca.

  The interpretation of the tapuyo fell pleasantly upon the ears of hisauditors, and for a while they felt hopeful. But the gloom soon cameback, at sight of that brilliant moon,--a sight that otherwise shouldhave cheered them,--as she flooded the forest with her silvery light,till her rich rays, scintillating through the leafy llianas, fell likesparks upon the sombre surface of the water arcade.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY SEVEN.

  THE MOON PUT OUT.

  Midnight came, and still the moon shone too clear and bright.

  Munday began to show uneasiness and anxiety. Several times had he takenthat short swim, like an otter from its earth or a beaver from itsdome-shaped dwelling, each time returning to his companions upon thelog, but with no sign of his having been gratified by the excursion.About the sixth trip since night had set in, he came swimming back tothe dead-wood with a more pleased expression upon his countenance.

  "You've seen something that gratifies you?" said Trevannion,interrogatively; "or heard it, perhaps?"

  "Seen it," was the laconic reply.

  "What?"

  "A cloud."

  "A cloud! Well?"

  "Not much of a cloud, patron; no bigger than the spread skin of thecow-fish there; but it's in the east, and therefore in the direction ofGran Para. That means much."

  "What difference can it make in what direction it is?"

  "Every difference! If from Gran Para 'tis up the great river. Up thegreat river means rain,--perhaps thunder, lightning, a storm. A stormis just what we want."

  "O, now I see what you mean. Well?"

  "I must go back to the mouth of the _igarape_, and take another look atthe sky. Have patience, patron, and pray for me to return with goodnews." So saying, the tapuyo once again slipped down into the water,and swam towards the entrance of the arcade.

  For a full half-hour was he absent; but long before his return the newshe was to bring back had been told by signs that anticipated him. Themoonbeams, hitherto seen striking here and there through the thinnerscreen of the foliage, had been growing dimmer and dimmer, until theywere no longer discernible, and uniform darkness prevailed under theshadow of the trees. So dark had it become, that, when the swimmerreturned to the ceiba, they were only warned of his approach by theslight plashing of his arms, and the next moment he was with them.

  "The time has come," said he, "for carrying out my scheme. I've notbeen mistaken in what I saw. The cloud, a little bit ago not biggerthan the skin of the juaroua, will soon cover the whole sky. The ragsupon its edge are already blinding the moon; and by the time we can getunder the scaffolds of the malocca it will be dark enough for ourpurpose."

  "What! the scaffolds of the malocca! You intend going there?"

  "That is the intention, patron."

  "Alone?"

  "No. I want one with me,--the young master."

  "But there is great danger, is there not?" suggested Trevannion, "ingoing--"

  "In going there is," interrupted the tapuyo; "but more in not going. Ifwe succeed, we shall be all safe, and there's an end of it. If wedon't, we have to die, and that's the other end of it, whatever we maydo."

  "But why not try our first plan? It's now dark enough outside. Whycan't we get off upon the raft?"

  "Dark enough, as you say, patron. But you forget that it is now nearmorning. We couldn't paddle this log more than a mile before the sunwould be shining upon us, and then--"

  "Dear uncle," interposed the young Paraense, "don't interfere with hisplans. No doubt he knows what is best to be done. If I am to risk mylife, it is nothing more than we're all doing now. Let Munday have hisway. No fear but we shall return safe. Do, dear uncle! let him havehis way."

  As Munday had already informed them, no preparation was needed,--onlyhis knife and a dark night. Both were now upon him, the knife in hiswaist-strap, and the dark night over his head. One other thing wasnecessary to the accomplishment of his purpose,--the captured canoe,which was already prepared, laying handy alongside the log.

  With a parting salute to all,--silent on the part of the tapuyo, butspoken by the young Paraense, a hope of speedy return, an assurance ofit whispered in the ear of Rosita,--the canoe was shoved off, and soonglided out into the open lagoa.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY EIGHT.

  AN HOUR OF SUSPENSE.

  Scarce had the canoe with its living freight faded out of sight, whenTrevannion repented his rashness in permitting his nephew to risk hislife in a scheme so ill understood as the tapuyo's.

  He had no suspicion of the Indian's good faith. It was not that thatcaused him regret; only a certain compunction for having so easilyconsented to expose to a dread danger the life of his brother's son,--alife intrusted to his care, and for which he should be held answerableby that brother, should it be his fortune ever to see him again.

  But it was of no use to indulge in these regrets. They were now idle.The act which had caused them was beyond recall. The canoe must go onto its destination. What was that? Trevannion could not evenconjecture. He only knew that Munday had started for the malocca; buthis purpose in going there was as much a mystery as though he hadpretended to have gone on a voyage to the moon.

  Trevannion even felt angry with the tapuyo, now t
hat he was out ofreach, for having concealed the plan of his enterprise and the extent ofthe danger to be encountered. But there was now no alternative but toawait the return of the tapuyo, or the time that would tell he was nevermore to return.

  It had been fixed by the Indian himself, in a speech whispered into theear of Trevannion as he pushed off the canoe. It was this: "A word,patron! If we're not back before daylight, stay where you are tillto-morrow night. Then, if it be dark, do as we proposed for to-night.Steal out and away. But don't fear of our failing. I only say that forthe worst. The Mundurucu has no fear. _Pa terra_! in an hour's time weshall be back, bringing with us what we're in need of,--something thatwill carry us clear of our enemies and of the Gapo."

  So the party remained seated on the log. Each had his own conjectureabout Munday's plan, though all acknowledged it to be a puzzle.

  The surmise of Tipperary Tom was sufficiently original. "I wondhernow," said he, "if the owld chap manes to set fire to their town!Troth, it's loike enough that's what he's gone afther. Masther Dicksayed it was ericted upon scaffolds wid bames of wood an' huts upon themthat looked loike the laves of threes or dry grass. Shure them wouldblaze up loike tindher, an' create a moighty conflagrayshin."