Martin Of Nitendi; and The River Of Dreams

by Louis Becke

  I

  There is a river I know which begins its life in a dark, sunless canyonhigh up amid the thick forest-clad spurs of the range which traversesthe island from east to west. Here, lying deep and silent, is a pool,almost encompassed by huge boulders of smooth, black rock, piledconfusedly together, yet preserving a certain continuity of outlinewhere their bases touch the water's edge. Standing far up on themountainside you can, from one certain spot alone, discern it twohundred feet below, and a thick mass of tangled vine and creepersstretching across its western side, through which the water flows on itsjourney to the sea.

  A narrow native path, used only by hunters of the wild pigs haunting thedepths of the gloomy mountain forest, led me to it one close, steamingafternoon. I had been pigeon shooting along the crests of the ridges,and having shot as many birds as I could carry, I decided to make ashort cut down to the level ground, where I was sure of finding water,resting awhile and then making my way home along the beach to thevillage.

  I had descended scarcely more than fifty yards when I struck the path--athin, red line of sticky, clay soil, criss-crossed by countless roots ofthe great forest trees. A brief examination showed me that it had beentrodden by the feet of natives quite recently; their footprints leddownward. I followed, and presently came to a cleared space on themountainside, a spot which had evidently been used by a party of hunterswho had stayed there to cook some food, for the ashes of a fire lay inthe ground-oven they had made. Laying down my gun, I went to the edgeand peered cautiously over, and there far below I could see the pool,revealed by a shaft of sunlight which pierced down through the leafycanopy.

  Feeling sure that the track would lead me to the water, where I shouldhave the satisfaction of a long drink, I set out again, and afternarrowly escaping pitching down headlong, I at last reached the bottom,and, with a sigh of relief, threw down my gun and birds, and in anothermoment was drinking eagerly of the ice-cold, crystal water in one of themany minor pools which lay everywhere amid the boulders.

  After a few minutes' rest I collected some dead wood and lit a fire,being hungry as well as thirsty; then leaving it to burn down, Iclimbed one of the highest boulders to get a good view, and sighed withadmiration at the scene--there lay before me a deep, almost circularsheet or water, about thirty yards across. Directly beneath me I couldsee the rocky bottom; fifty feet further out towards the centre it wasof unfathomable blueness. On the opposite side a tree of enormous girthhad fallen, long years before, yet it was still growing, for some of itsmighty roots were embedded in the rich red soil of the mountain-side.

  As I looked, a fish, and then another, splashed just beside the fallentree. Slipping down from the boulder, I made my way round, just in timeto see scores of beautiful silvery fish, exactly like English graylingin shape, dart away from under the tree out into the deep water. Inother streams of the island I had caught many of these fish, but hadnever seen any so high up inland; and, elated at the prospect of muchfuture sport, I went on with my explorations.

  I was about to climb over the tree, when I discovered that I could passunderneath, for here and there it was supported on boulders standingout two or three feet above the water. On the other side a tiny streamtrickled over a flat ledge of rock, to fall into a second but muchsmaller pool ten or fifteen feet below; beyond that lay a long, narrowbut shallow stretch of crystal water, running between highly verduredbanks, and further away in the distance I could hear the murmur of awaterfall.

  Turning over a stone with my foot, a crayfish darted off and triedto hide. There were scores, hundreds of them, everywhere--fine, fat,luscious fellows, and in ten minutes I had a dozen of the largest in mybag, to roast on the now glowing fire beside a juicy pigeon. Salt I hadnone, but I did possess a ship biscuit and a piece of cold baked taro,and with pigeon and crayfish, what more could a hungry man desire?

  The intense solitude of the place, too, was enchanting. Now and thenthe booming note of a pigeon, or the soft _coo-coo_ of a ringdove, wouldbreak the silence; overhead there was a sky of spotless blue; an hourbefore I had sweltered under a brazen sun; here, under the mountainshade, though there was not a breath of wind to stir a leaf, it wassurprisingly cool.

  To lean against the soft white moss clothing the buttresses of a giantmaruhia-tree and smoke a pipe, was delightful after a tramp of sixor eight miles through a mountain forest; and to know that the returnjourney would be through easy country along the banks of a new river wasbetter still.

  I set off with a feeling of joyful expectancy, taking a last glance atthe beautiful little lake--I meant to return with some native friends tofish it on the morrow--ere I struck into the forest once more to pick upthe path.

  Every now and then I caught glimpses of the river, now graduallywidening as it was joined by other streamlets on either side. Some ofthese I had to wade through, others I crossed on stones or fallen trees.

  Half-way to the beach I came to a broad stretch of shallow water coveredwith purple water-lilies; three small ducks, with alarmed quacking, shotupward from where they had been resting or feeding under the bank, andvanished over the tree-tops; and a sudden commotion in the water showedme that there were many fish. Its beautiful clearness tempted me tostrip off and swim about the floating garden resting on its bosom, andI was just about to undress when I heard a shot quite near. The momentafter, I fired in return, and gave a loud hail; then the high reedy canegrass on the other side parted, and a man and a woman came out, staredat me, and then laughed in welcome. They were one Nalik and his wife,people living in my own village. The man carried a long single-barrelledGerman shot-gun, the woman a basket of pigeons. Stepping down the bank,they waded across and joined me.

  "How came ye here?" they asked, as we sat down together to smoke.

  I told them, and then learnt that the river ran into the sea through themangroves at a spot many miles from the village. Then I asked about thebig pool. Nalik nodded.

  "Ay, 'tis deep, very deep, and hath many fish in it. But it is a placeof _jelon_ (haunted) and we always pass to one side. But here where wenow sit is a fine place for fish. And there are many wild pigs in theforest."

  "Let us come here to-morrow. Let us start ere the sun is up, and stayhere and fish and shoot till the day be gone."

  "Why not?" said Sivi his wife, puffing her cigarette, "and sleephere when night comes, for under the banks are many thousand _unkar_(crayfish), and I and some other women shall catch them by torchlight."

  And that was how I began to learn this island river and its ways, sothat now it has become the river ot my dreams.