01 Amazon Adventure

by Willard Price

  giant iguana lay on the floor sound asleep, and Stilts maintained his dignity on one foot in a corner.

  Charlie, the Jivaro mummy, was the only one allowed to enjoy the fresh air. He was far aloft in the masthead, his black hair waving against the stars.

  A tired old last-quarter moon hung in the sky. It was not a bright and cheerful moon, but a moon of mystery and dread. Roger did not like to look at it. Hal was too busy rowing to notice it.

  But his blood ran chill as he heard the forest gnashing its teeth. Savage cries from the mouths of hundreds of wild animals combined into one great roar that seemed to be the savage voice of the jungle itself. Most bloodcurdling of all were the earsplitting howls that one could imagine as coming from a hundred packs of ravenous wolves, or from an army of man-eating lions — but Hal knew that they were merely the night songs of howler monkeys. Although no bigger than a dog, the howler can make more noise than a jaguar. The sound is a deep rumbling roar that would naturally come only from an animal many times as big. A single howler can easily make himself heard at a distance of three miles. The sound is hard for human nerves to endure. It is as if all the agony in the world were being let loose at once. Hal remembered the comment of a naturalist who said that the first time he heard the howler he was so startled he thought all the tigres on the Amazon were ‘engaged in a death struggle’.

  He could well believe that this was one of the most sullen, morose and savage of the monkeys. If cornered, it would attack viciously and could inflict a severe bite. Its jaws were amazingly powerful. The naturalist Up de Graff had tried to keep one off with the muzzle of his gun — the infuriated creature clamped with his jaws upon the muzzle and bit so hard that he closed the bore.

  Hardly less hair-raising were the voices of millions of frogs and toads, booming, moaning, thundering and screeching. They nearly drowned the hoarse croaking of crocodiles which were evidently numerous along the bank, the whinnying of tapirs, the wild cry of a bird called the horned screamer, the sharp little grunts of peccaries, and many other sounds that were unknown to Hal.

  But he had come to know well one sound, the coughing roar of the jaguar. Although it was not very loud, it had the effect of stilling the jungle as if it had been suddenly struck dumb. ‘Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh!’ it went.

  The wind freshened. Both boats had been stepped with masts and Hal now ordered up the sails.

  Again Banco protested — it was not safe to race down the river in the dark when rocks, sandbars, or half-sunken logs could not be seen. Hal knew that he was quite right, but the desire to put a long distance between him and his pursuer induced him to take the chance.

  With both sails and oars at work, the boats flew downstream like scared cats, dodging islands sometimes by only a few feet. Twice the Ark struck a sand bar but managed to struggle across into deep water. Once it struck a log a resounding plunk and the log gave up a deep croak and swam away.

  The exhausted moon did not give as much light as the stars. The Southern Cross looked frosty in the chill night air. The jungle tumult died down during the middle of the night, then grew again towards dawn. The noise was as good as a clock. When it was at its height, you knew that there was only half an hour left before morning. When the rising sun lit the flowering tops of the trees there was no sound left but the gurgle of the Amazon under the keel and the far cries of a gorgeously coloured flock of roseate spoonbills flying north.

  After the sun had risen high enough to reach to the bottom of the leafy gorge the boats were following between two wooded islands, everybody relaxed in its welcome warmth and let the vessels drift while enjoying a breakfast of coffee, mandioca cakes and dried meat.

  But the animals, too, were hungry. The island on the right seemed to be about a mile long. It would be a good place to forage for food for the animal passengers. Hal ordered the flotilla into a quiet cove fringed by majestic Brazil nut trees.

  As the boats touched the beach a huge crocodile moved over a few feet to make room, but was too sleepy to swim away. Only its nose and its eyes that bulged like electric bulbs showed above the surface. Its chin rested on the bottom just off the bank.

  After a hard night, everyone was glad to rest a while. Most of the men lay on the shore, but Banco and three Indians, afraid of ants and ticks, stretched themselves out in the bottom of the small canoe.

  Everyone took a nap. Everyone but Roger.

  Chapter 14

  Bucking Bronco Crocodile

  Roger forgot that he had sworn off mischief.

  The opportunity was too inviting. The crocodile’s nose would suit his purpose nicely. It was sharp and pointed, very different from the blunt nose of an alligator. And the crocodile, when it takes off, is as unlike an alligator as a speed boat in comparison with a log raft.

  Roger edged over to the painter of the dugout. One end of the line was attached to the bow of the canoe and the other to a log on the shore.

  Roger quietly unfastened the line from the log. He made a slip noose in the end of the line. Then he squirmed ever so gently over to the sleepy saurian.

  Suddenly leaping into action, he slapped the noose over the crocodile’s nose and jumped back out of the way.

  The crocodile came to life with a vengeance. It made a lunge at Roger but, missing him, wheeled with a mighty thrash of its powerful tail and plunged out into the bay.

  The line came taut with a jerk that shook the sleep out of all four men and set them to yelling like demons. The enraged crocodile yanked the boat this way and that, nearly upsetting it every time he changed his course.

  For a time he gave them a free ride, shooting across the bay like a meteor.

  Then he turned and rushed at the boat with his great jaws open. They closed with a crunching noise on the gunwale just where Banco’s arm had rested an instant before. Splinters flew as the big teeth ground the edge of the boat.

  The crocodile changed his tactics. He removed his jaws but brought his heavy tail into action. He swung it like a pile driver against the boat, making it shiver from stem to stern.

  Roger by this time had quit laughing. As usual he was having his regrets a little late. Hal and the others had been awakened by the yells. They jumped into the montaria, Roger with them. They set out for the canoe but it shot here and there in such crazy movements that they found themselves going around in circles. It was still a little funny, Roger thought. How could the men in the canoe be hurt? Banco was reaching over with a knife to cut the line. Then the crocodile would swim away and everyone would think it was a good joke.

  Comforting himself with these thoughts, he was horrified to see something happen that he had not thought of. The crocodile dived. Straight down he went in deep water and the canoe followed. The bow dipped and disappeared, the stern rose high in the air. All four men spilled out, the leg and arms going like flails and their yells frightening the birds and monkeys so that the forest broke into a sympathetic din.

  Plop! — the four disappeared beneath the surface. Four men in bed with an angry crocodile!

  Roger reached for a gun.

  ‘That won’t do,’ Hal cried. ‘One shot wouldn’t kill him. It would only make him worse.’

  ‘What’ll we do?’

  ‘Cut the painter. He’s just frightened. If we can cut that painter perhaps he’ll make off.’

  Hal was about to go overboard but Roger was ahead of him. He knew that this was his job. He dived into the boiling water that was already beginning to show blood. He found the bow of the canoe. With his hunting knife he slashed the line that held the thrashing monster. The crocodile suddenly leaped out of the water like a bucking horse, then dived.

  The men righted the canoe and climbed back in. Roger regained the montaria. He had seen the blood in the water and with a heavy heart he looked across at the canoe expecting to see one of the men badly wounded.

  But they appeared to be all right. One of them held a bloody knife. So it was the crocodile that was wounded.

  Suddenly there was a new
commotion in the bay. Again the crocodile was thrashing about, but this time because it had been attacked by the cannibals of the Amazon — the ravenous and savage fish called piranhas.

  Let a bather, either animal or human, have so much as a scratch on him, and the piranhas, attracted by the blood, are upon him at once. They are only a foot long. With their mouths closed they look as innocent as a perch. When they open their mouths, two semicircles of razor-edged teeth are revealed.

  The piranhas are the most feared of all creatures that swim in the Amazon, crocodiles included. They come in shoals, a hundred or a thousand or more at a time. Following up a blood trail, they attack ravenously, stripping all the flesh from the bones in a matter of minutes.

  Nor do they always require blood to set them off. More than one canoeist has had his fingers nipped off neatly as he dragged them in the water. A single bite is enough for this operation. The strength of the piranha’s jaws is incredible.

  A National Geographic Society expedition had found that in catching them it was necessary to use copper wire between the line and the hook. And two strands of the size of wire used for locking turnbuckles on an aeroplane were not enough; three were needed.

  The water was churned white by the furious fish. Streaks of deep red appeared in the white.

  The Indians in the canoe were jabbering excitedly. They paddled to the scene of conflict. One had a fish spear and proceeded to spear enough food to supply a bountiful fish dinner for everybody. When he had done, more than twenty fish lay in the bottom of the boat. The men kept well out of their way for even a piranha out of water does not become any better tempered.

  Close by was a sand bar on which the canoe beached. The fish were spread out on the sand and their heads were chopped off. Roger picked up a head that had been severed from the body for almost a minute and studied the open jaws. He was startled when they snapped shut like a steel spring. He decided to wait until the fish were good and dead before studying them.

  An Indian smiled at Roger’s surprise. He put the blade of his hunting knife in the mouth of a head that had no body. The jaws snapped shut with such force that the points of the teeth were broken. The Indian took out the knife — on each side the hard steel was nicked in a semicircle by the piranha’s teeth.

  ‘At the New York Aquarium,’ Hal recalled, ‘a piranha bit a pair of surgical tweezers made of the very best steel and left nicks in it. They even eat each other. At the Aquarium they can’t keep more than one in a tank. If they do, the bigger one makes a dinner of the other.’

  Some of the piranhas had neat slices of meat cut out of their backs. Banco explained that as soon as a piranha is caught on a spear and is helpless to defend himself, all his companions rush upon him. If he isn’t drawn out quickly nothing comes up but a skeleton.

  ‘And speaking of skeletons, look at that,’ Hal said, pointing in the water. The fish had departed, the turmoil had died down, and a long white skeleton like that of a prehistoric monster lay on the bottom.

  ‘That’s what they do to our cattle,’ Banco said. ‘The cattle are bled by vampire bats during the night; then when they wade into the river the piranhas smell the blood and go at them.’

  Roger spent the rest of the morning collecting food for his wards. When the noon meal was served all the piranha’s sins were forgiven, and Roger’s also for the piranha is excellent eating.

  Hal even deigned to say, ‘I don’t care if you get into mischief every day, you young rascal, if it brings us a meal like this!’

  But Roger decided within himself that he would get no more fish dinners by tying a canoe to a crocodile.

  Chapter 15

  Great Snakes!

  Hal kept looking up river for any sign of Croc and the gang of ruffians that he would bring with him.

  There was nothing to be seen but an occasional Indian canoe.

  Perhaps Croc had not as yet come this far, or perhaps he had already gone by, hidden from view by islands. If he had passed, there was no certainty that he might not return to make a more careful investigation.

  Hal was willing to have a fight if necessary, but hoped to avoid it. His business was to make a collection and get out with it, not to fight. The odds would probably be heavily against him. Croc’s gang would be made up of armed thugs; Hal’s crew were simple boatmen. They had bows and arrows for fishing, and a few blowpipes for catching birds — but no guns.

  Besides, Hal did not want any blood on his hands, either his own or that of others. Any killings might lead to arrest, a long stay in jail awaiting trial, and then an ordeal in some Brazilian court. Such affairs sometimes ran on for a year or more.

  The expedition would be a failure and his father’s ruin would be complete.

  So Hal resolved to keep out of Croc’s way as long as possible. If a gory showdown must come, at least he would not invite it. He would lie low in this cove until dark — then travel again by night.

  His men lay on the ground asleep, full of man-eating fish. Hal and Roger followed their example.

  So there was no reception committee to welcome the lady who came to call. It was a pity that no one saw her, for she was really a beautiful sight. Her smooth skin was a delicate pale brown ornamented with dark brown spots with light centres. She had a handsome dog-shaped head. She used it to stand on. She was twice as tall as a tall man — in fact the branch around which her handsome red-black-and-yellow tail curled was twelve feet above the ground.

  Although tall, she was slender, with a waist measure of no more than twelve inches. Her slim body undulated gracefully as if she were doing a slow dance.

  Resting her chin on the ground, she uncoiled her tail from the branch. There she stood for an instant, a muscular column of serpent twelve feet high. Then her body descended to join her head. It did not fall but came down with a smooth balance and poise that an acrobat would have envied.

  She raised her head and studied the sleeping forms. How would one of these do for dinner? The boa constrictor, second largest snake in the Americas, is famous for the ability to swallow something three times as big as itself. But the lady in question merely slid over the first Indian, so softly that he felt nothing, then over another and another. Now she reached Roger. She contemplated him long and thoughtfully. Possibly she decided against him because, although he was not so large as the others, even he would take six weeks to digest.

  A sound on the Ark attracted her. Specs, the marmoset, was at the top of the mast playing in Charlie’s hair.

  The boa slid past Hal’s head, crossed the beach, and glided up the gangplank to the deck of the Ark. She stopped to consider the great stork. Now there would be a good meal — but those long bony legs were a nuisance, and there was no nourishment in that big horny beak. Besides, it was sharp and might punch a hole in her skin from the inside — if indeed she could get it inside before it could peck a hole from the outside. The jabiru stork was no mean antagonist. Stilts was eyeing the intruder with stern disapproval and making throaty threats.

  The boa turned her attention once more to the juicy tittle morsel at the masthead. Specs had clambered up the halyards. The boa preferred to use the mast itself as her escalator. It was smooth and slippery but she did not need any projections to climb by. She was not a constrictor for nothing. She could hug her way up.

  She spiralled up the mast as swiftly as if it had been lying on the level. Specs did not notice her until her jaws were opening to receive him. He made a wild leap into space and landed on the roof of the toldo.

  The boa was confronted by Charlie who was shaking his head gravely in the afternoon breeze. The movement made him seen very much alive and the boa investigated him with evident curiosity. But she was too fastidious a diner to be satisfied with this shrivelled scrap of human leather. Without nibbling even so much as an ear, she turned and went down, using her own body as a staircase.

  She had nearly reached the deck when a little whinny stopped her cold. The young tapir in his gay, yellow-striped coat thrust his inqu
iring nose from the toldo and then trotted out on deck.

  The descending boa, her body still coiled around the mast for half its height, stopped and projected her head. She remained so still that she might have been a bronze statue of herself instead of her living self. Nosey, the little nitwit, wandered straight into the face of danger. His feeble eyes were bent upon the deck on the lookout for food.

  When he had come within two feet of her, the boa struck. Her soft, silky neck snapped out as stiff and straight as a ramrod. Her jaws opened and the sharp, incurved teeth closed like a vice on Nosey’s nose.

  He whinnied to high heaven, at once arousing the sleepers on the beach.

  Hal came running, gun in hand. But when he saw the beautiful boa he knew he could not use that gun. He must have this creature for his collection. And yet he could not afford to lose his tapir.

  The boa’s first act was to lock her jaws upon her prey. Her second was to let her coils come slithering down from the mast and to whip them around the body of the tapir. Her third, if Hal could not act in time, would be to apply the killing pressure, crushing the bones, reducing the flesh to a pulp, and stopping the heart. Then would come the long pull, the animal being slowly drawn down the boa’s swollen throat.

  Hal fired his gun close to the boa’s head, hoping to startle her into releasing her hold.

  1 can do better than that,’ shouted Roger, thinking his brother had missed. And Banco came tumbling up with a knife.

  ‘Don’t hurt the snake,’ Hal warned. ‘We want it alive.’ He jumped into the toldo for some noosing cord.

  When he reappeared the situation had changed. A new actor had taken part in the drama. The giant iguana, annoyed by a crack from the whipping tail of the serpent, had sunk its teeth into it. Instantly the deck became a circus for a whirling ball of reptile fury with the innocent little tapir at the centre of it.