by Mayne Reid
Despite the coarse netting of the hammocks on which they wereconstrained to pass the night, our adventurers slept better than wastheir wont, from a certain feeling of security,--a confidence that Godhad not forgotten them. He who could give them food in the forest couldalso guide them out of the labyrinth into which their own negligence hadled them.
A prayer to Him preceded their breakfast on the cream of the cow-tree,and with another they launched themselves upon their strings of shells,with renewed confidence, and proceeded along the curving selvage of thetrees. As before, they found their progress impeded by the "ovens" ofthe piosoca; and despite their utmost exertions, at noon they had madescarce three miles from their starting-point, for the gigantic tree thathad sheltered them was full in sight, and even at sunset they could nothave been more than six miles from it.
In the forest about them there appeared no resting-place for the night.The trees stood closely together, but without any interlacing ofbranches, or large horizontal limbs upon which they might seek repose.For a time it appeared as if they would have to spend the night upon thewater. This was a grave consideration, and the guide knew it. Withtheir bodies immersed during the midnight hours,--chill even within thetropics,--the consequences might be serious, perhaps fatal. One way oranother a lodgement must be obtained among the tree-tops. It wasobtained, but after much difficulty. The climbing to it was a severestruggle, and the seat was of the most uncomfortable kind. There was nosupper, or comfort of any kind.
With the earliest appearance of day they were all once more in thewater, and slowly pursuing their weary way. Now slower than ever, forin proportion to their constantly decreasing strength the obstructionfrom the piosocas appeared to increase. The lagoon, or at least itsborder, had become a labyrinth of lilies.
While thus contending against adverse circumstances, an object cameunder their eyes that caused a temporary abstraction from their misery.Something strange was lying along the water at the distance of about aquarter of a mile from them. It appeared to be some ten or twelve yardsin length, and stood quite high above the surface. It was of a darkbrown colour, and presented something the appearance of a bank of driedmud, with some pieces of stout stakes projecting upward. Could it bethis? Was it a bank or spit of land?
The hearts of the swimmers leaped as this thought, inspired by theirwishes, came into every mind. If land, it could be only an islet, forthere was water all around it,--that they could perceive. But if so, anislet, if no bigger than a barn-door, would still be land, and thereforewelcome. They might stretch their limbs upon it, and obtain a goodnight's rest, which they had not done since the wreck of the galatea.Besides an islet ever so small--if only a sand-bar or bank of mud--wouldbe a sort of evidence that the real dry land was not far off.
The dark form at first sight appeared to be close in to the trees, butMunday, standing up in the water, pronounced it to be at some distancefrom them,--between fifty and a hundred yards. As it was evident thatthe trees themselves were up to their necks in water, it could hardly bean island. Still there might be some elevated spot, a ridge or mound,that overtopped the inundation. Buoyed up by this hope, the swimmerskept on towards it, every eye scanning intently its outlines in order tomake out its real character. All at once the projections which they hadtaken for stakes disappeared from the supposed spot of mud. They hadassumed the shape of large wading birds of dark plumage, which, havingspread their long, triangular wings, were now hovering above the headsof the swimmers, by their cries proclaiming that they were moreastonished at the latter than they could possibly be at them.
It was not until they had arrived within a hundred yards of the objectthat its true character was declared. "_Pa Terra_!" Munday cried, in asonorous and somewhat sorrowful voice, as he sank despairingly upon hisbreast;--"no island,--no bank,--no land of any kind. _Only adead-wood_!"
"A dead-wood!" repeated the patron, not comprehending what he meant, andfancying from the chagrined air of the Indian that there might bemischief in the thing.
"That's all, master. The carcass of an old _Manguba_, that's been longsince stripped of his limbs, and has been carried here upon the currentof the Gapo; don't you see his huge shoulders rising above the water?"
Richard proceeded to explain the Indian's meaning. "The trunk of a deadtree, uncle. It's the silk-cotton-tree, or manguba, as Munday calls it.I can tell that by its floating so lightly on the water. It appears tobe anchored, though; or perhaps it is moored among the stalks of thepiosocas."
The explanation was interrupted by a shout from the Indian, whosecountenance had all at once assumed an expression of cheerfulness,--almost joy. The others, as they turned their eyes upon him, weresurprised at the sudden change, for but a moment before they had noticedhis despairing look.
"The Mundurucu must be mad, patron," he shouted. "Where is his head?Gone down to the bottom of the Gapo along with the galatea!"
"What's the matter?" inquired Tom, brightening up as he beheld thejoyful aspect of the Indian. "Is it dhroy land that he sees? I hopeit's that same."
"What is it, Munday?" asked Trevannion. "Why do you fancy yourselfinsane?"
"Only to think of it, patron, that I should have been sorry to find butthe trunk of a tree. The trunk of a tree,--a grand manguba, big enoughto make a _montaria_, an _igarite_,--a galatea, if you like,--a greatcanoe that will carry us all! Cry _Santos Dios_! Give thanks to theGreat Spirit! We are saved!--we are saved!"
The words of the tapuyo, wild as they might appear, were wellunderstood. They were answered by a general shout of satisfaction,--foreven the youngest of the party could comprehend that the great log lyingnear them might be made the means of carrying them clear of the dangerswith which they had been so long encompassed.
"True,--true," said Trevannion. "It is the very thing for which we havebeen searching in vain,--some sort of timber that would carry its ownweight in the water, and us beside. This dead manguba, as you call it,looks as if a ton would not sink it a quarter of an inch. It willcertainly serve us for a raft. Give thanks to God, children; his handis in this. It fills me with hope that we are yet to survive the perilsthrough which we are passing, and that I shall live to see old Englandonce more."
No flock of jacanas ever created such a commotion among the leaves ofthe Victoria lily as was made at that moment. Like frail leaves thethick stems were struck aside by the arms of the swimmers, strengthenedby the prospect of a speedy delivery from what but the moment beforeseemed extremest peril; and almost in a moment they were alongside thegreat trunk of the manguba, in earnest endeavour to get upon it.
CHAPTER FIFTY SIX.
THE STERCULIADS.
In their attempts at boarding they were as successful as they could haveexpected. The top of the gigantic log was full six feet above thesurface of the water, and there were huge buttresses upon it--theshoulders spoken of by Munday--that rose several feet higher. By dintof hard climbing, however, all were at length safely landed.
After they had spent a few minutes in recovering breath, they began tolook around them and examine their strange craft. It was, as the Indianhad alleged, the trunk of a silk-cotton-tree, the famed _Bombax_ of theAmerican tropical forests,--found, though, in many different species,from Mexico to the mountains of Brazil. It is known as belonging to theorder of the _Sterculiads_, which includes among its _genera_ a greatnumber of vegetable giants, among others the _baobab_ of Africa, with astem ninety feet in circumference, though the trunk is out of proportionto the other parts of the tree. The singular hand-plant of Mexicocalled _Manita_ is a sterculiad, as are also the cotton-tree of Indiaand the gum-tragacanth of Sierra Leone.
The bombax-trees of Tropical America are of several distinct species.They are usually called cotton or silk-cotton-trees, on account of thewoolly or cottony stuff between the seeds and the outer capsules, whichresemble those of the true cotton plant (_Gossypium_). They are notedfor their great size and imposing appearance, more than for any usefulproperties. Several species of the
m, however, are not without a certainvalue. _Bombax ceiba_, and _Bombax monguba_, the monguba of the Amazon,are used for canoes, a single trunk sufficing to make a craft that willcarry twenty hogsheads of sugar along with its crew of tapuyos. Thepeculiar lightness of the wood renders it serviceable for this purpose;and there is one species, the _ochroma_ of the West Indies, so light asto have been substituted for cork-wood in the bottling of wines.
The silk or cotton obtained from the seed-pods, though apparently of anexcellent quality, unfortunately cannot be well managed by thespinning-machine. It lacks adhesiveness, and does not form a threadthat may be trusted. It is, however, extensively used for the stuffingof couches, cushions, and other articles of upholstery; and theAmazonian Indians employ it in feathering the arrows of their blow-guns,and for several other purposes.
A peculiarity of the Sterculiads is their having buttresses. Some areseen with immense excrescences growing out from their trunks, in theform of thin, woody plates, covered with bark just like the trunkitself, between which are spaces that might be likened to stalls in astable. Often these partitions rise along the stem to a height of fiftyfeet. The cottonwood (_Populus angulata_) and the deciduous cypress ofthe Mississippi (_Taxodium distichum_) partake of this singular habit;the smaller buttresses of the latter, known as "cypress knees,"furnishing the "cypress hams," which, under their covering oflime-washed canvas, had been sold (so say the Southerners) by the Yankeespeculator for the genuine haunch of the corn-fed hog!
In spite of its commercial inutility, there are few trees of the SouthAmerican forest more interesting than the manguba. It is a conspicuoustree, even in the midst of a forest abounding in types of the vegetablekingdom, strange and beautiful. Upon the trunk of such a tree, longsince divested of its leaves,--stripped even of its branches, itsspecies distinguishable only to the eye of the aboriginal observer,--ouradventurers found a lodgment.
CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN.
CHASED BY TOCANDEIRAS.
Their tenancy was of short continuance. Never did lodger retreat from ashrewish landlady quicker than did Trevannion and his party from thetrunk of the silk-cotton-tree. That they so hastily forsook a secureresting-place, upon which but the moment before they had been so happyto plant their feet, will appear a mystery. Strangest of all, that theywere actually driven overboard by an insect not bigger than an ant!
Having gained a secure footing, as they supposed, upon the floatingtree-trunk, our adventurers looked around them, the younger ones fromcuriosity, the others to get acquainted with the character of their newcraft. Trevannion was making calculations as to its capability; not asto whether it could carry them, for that was already decided, butwhether it was possible to convert it into a manageable vessel, eitherwith sails, if such could be extemporised, or with oars, which might beeasily obtained. While thus engaged, he was suddenly startled by anexclamation of surprise and alarm from the Indian. All that day he hadbeen the victim of sudden surprises.
"The _Tocandeiras_!--the _Tocandeiras_!" he cried, his eyes sparkling ashe spoke; and, calling to the rest to follow, he retreated toward oneend of the tree-trunk.
With wondering eyes they looked back to discover the thing from whichthey were retreating. They could see nothing to cause such symptoms ofterror as those exhibited by their guide and counsellor. It is truethat upon the other end of the tree-trunk, in a valley-like groovebetween two great buttresses, the bark had suddenly assumed a singularappearance. It had turned to a fiery red hue, and had become apparentlyendowed with a tremulous motion. What could have occasioned thissingular change in the colour of the log?
"The Tocandeiras!" again exclaimed Munday, pointing directly to theobject upon which all eyes were fixed.
"Tocandeiras?" asked Trevannion. "Do you mean those little red insectscrawling along the log?"
"That, and nothing else. Do you know what they are, patron?"
"I have not the slightest idea, only that they appear to be some speciesof ant."
"That's just what they are,--ants and nothing else! Those are thedreaded _fire-ants_. We've roused them out of their sleep. By ourweight the manguba has gone down a little. The water has got into theirnest. They are forced out, and are now spiteful as hungry jaguars. Wemust get beyond their reach, or in ten minutes' time there won't be aninch of skin on our bodies without a bite and a blister."
"It is true, uncle," said Richard. "Munday is not exaggerating. Ifthese ugly creatures crawl upon us, and they will if we do not get outof the way, they'll sting us pretty nigh to death. We must leave thelog!"
And now, on the way towards the spot occupied by the party, was a fierystream composed of spiteful-looking creatures, whose very appearancebespoke stings and poison. There was no help for it but to abandon thelog, and take to the water. Fortunately each individual was still inpossession of his string of sapucaya-shells; and, sliding down the sideof the log, once more they found themselves among the grand gong-likeleaves of the gigantic lily.
CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT.
A LOG THAT WOULDN'T ROLL.
It now became a question, what they were to do. Abandon the logaltogether, for a swarm of contemptible insects, not larger thanlady-bugs, when, by the merest chance, they had found a raft, the verything they stood in need of? Such a course was not contemplated,--notfor a moment. On gliding back into the Gapo, they had no idea ofswimming away farther than would secure their safety from the sting ofthe insects, as Munday assured them that the fire-ants would not followthem into the water. But how regain possession of their prize?
The ants were now seen swarming all over it, here and there collected inlarge hosts, seemingly holding council together, while broad bandsappeared moving from one to the other, like columns of troops upon themarch! There was scarce a spot upon the surface of the log, big enoughfor a man to set his foot upon, that was not reddened by the cohorts ofthis insect army!
"How shall we dispossess them?" inquired Trevannion.
"Shure," said Tipperary Tom, answering as if the appeal had been made tohim, "can't we sit thim on fire, an' burn thim aft the log? Cudn't wegather some dry laves out av the threes, an' make a blaze that 'ud soonconsume ivery mother's son av thim?"
"Nonsense, Tom. We should consume the log, as well as the ants, andthen what would be the advantage to us?"
"Well, thin, iv yez think fire won't do, why can't we thry wather? Litus thry an' drownd thim off the log. Munday sez they can't swim, an' ivthey can't, shure they must go to the bottom."
"How would you do it?" asked Trevannion, catching at the idea suggestedby the Hibernian.
"Nothing asier. Give the did three a rowl over on its back, an' thinthe ants'll get undher the wather; an' won't they have to stay there?Lit us all lay howlt on the log, an' see iv we can't give the swatecraythers a duckin'."
Convinced that there was good sense in Tom's counsel, swimming backtowards the log, they stretched their arms upward, and commenced tryingto turn it over. The attempt proved unsuccessful. Partly from theenormous weight of the dead tree, saturated as one half of it was withwater, and partly owing to the great buttresses acting as outriggers,they could only turn it about one tenth part of its circumference. Itrolled back upon them, at first dipping a little deeper, but afterwardssettling into its old bed. They were about to discontinue their effortswhen a cry came from Tom, as if some new source of terror had beendiscovered in the manguba. Soon each and all found an explanation intheir own sensations, which were as if they had been sharply stung orbitten by some venomous insect. While shouldering the log in vainendeavours to capsize it, some scores of the ants had been detached fromits sides, and fallen upon the bodies of the swimmers. Instead ofshowing gratitude for this temporary respite from drowning, the spitefulinsects had at once imbedded their poisoned fangs in their preservers,as if conscious that they owed all their misfortunes to the intruderswho had so rudely disturbed their rest. But when these stray ants thathad been stinging them were disposed of, their attention was once moredi
rected towards the manguba, with a still more determinate resolutionto repossess what in their eyes was more valuable than a selected log ofthe finest Honduras mahogany!
CHAPTER FIFTY NINE.
DROWNING THE TOCANDEIRAS: FIVE MEN IN A FEVER.
For a time the brains of our adventurers were busied in devising someplan for routing the tocandeiras from their floating citadel, of whichthey now retained sole possession. At last Tipperary Tom again becamethe suggester of a scheme for dispelling the multitudinous hosts.
"If we can't spill thim aff the log," said he, "we can wather thim affit."
"Not such a bad idea," said Richard. "Come on, let us surround thetrunk, and attack them on all sides, and let all heave together."
The dark mud colour that had characterised it when first seen, andduring the time while they were approaching it, was now changed to a hueof fiery red, here in spots of patches, there in broad lists or streaks,running irregularly between the extremities. Of course the red bandsand blotches mottling its sombre surface were the tocandeiras, whosecrowded battalions were distributed all over it. On closer scrutiny, itcould be seen that they were in motion, passing to and fro, or in placescircling around as if in search of the intruders who had disturbed them.
At a word from Trevannion, all the assailants commenced heaving up waterwith the palms of their hands, and the log became shrouded under ashower of sparkling drops that fell fast and thickly over it,dissipating into a cloud of vapour like the spray of a waterfall. Undersuch a drenching the tocandeiras could not possibly retain their hold,however tenacious might be their sharp curving claws, and it was butnatural that thousands of them should soon be swept from the manguba.Their assailants saw it, and, rejoicing at the success of their scheme,gave utterance to triumphant shouts, just like boys destroying with hotwater a nest of wasps or hornets. Louder than all could be heard thevoice of Tipperary Tom. It was he who had suggested the scheme, and thethought of having his character for sagacity thus raised caused hisboisterous fit of self-congratulation.