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

  There are few country people who have not witnessed the spectacle of apiece of woodland inundated by the overflow of a neighbouring stream.This flood is temporary; the waters soon subside into their ordinarychannel, and the trees once more appear growing out of _terra firma_,with the green mead spreading on all sides around them. But a floodedforest is a very different affair; somewhat similar in character indeed,but far grander. Not a mere spinney of trees along the bank of a smallstream; but a region extending beyond the reach of vision,--a vast tractof primeval woods,--the tall trees submerged to their very tops, not fordays, nor weeks, but for months,--ay, some of them forever! Picture toyour mind an inundation of this kind, and you will have some idea of theGapo.

  Extending for seventeen hundred miles along the banks of the Solimoes,now wider on the northern, now stretching farther back from the southernside, this semi-submerged forest is found, its interior almost asunknown as the crater-like caverns of the moon, or the icy oceans thatstorm or slumber round the Poles,--unknown to civilised man, but notaltogether to the savage. The aboriginal of Amazonia, crouching in hiscanoe, has pierced this water-land of wonders. He could tell you muchabout it that is real, and much that is marvellous,--the latter toooften pronounced fanciful by lettered _savans_. He could tell you ofstrange trees that grow there, bearing strange fruits, not to be foundelsewhere,--of wonderful quadrupeds, and _quadrumana_, that exist onlyin the Gapo,--of birds brilliantly beautiful, and reptiles hideouslyugly; among the last the dreaded dragon serpent, "Sucuruju." He couldtell you, moreover, of creatures of his own kind,--if they deserve thename of man,--who dwell continuously in the flooded forest, making theirhome on scaffolds among the tree-tops, passing from place to place infloating rafts or canoes, finding their subsistence on fish, on theflesh of the _manatee_, on birds, beasts, reptiles, and insects, on thestalks of huge water-plants and the fruits of undescribed trees, onmonkeys, and sometimes upon _man_! Such Indians as have penetrated thevast water-land have brought strange tales out of it. We may givecredence to them or refuse it; but they, at least, are firm believers inmost of the accounts which they have collected.

  It is not to be supposed that the Gapo is impenetrable. On thecontrary, there are several well-known waterways leading through it,--well-known, I mean, to the Indians dwelling upon its borders, to the_tapuyos_, whose business it is to supply crews for the galateas of thePortuguese traders, and to many of these traders themselves. Thesewaterways are often indicated by "blazings" on the trees, or brokenbranches, just as the roads are laid out by pioneer settlers in a NorthAmerican forest; and but for these marks, they could not be followed.Sometimes, however, large spaces occur in which no trees are to be seen,where, indeed, none grow. There are extensive lakes, always underwater, even at the lowest ebb of the inundation. They are of all sizesand every possible configuration, from the complete circle through allthe degrees of the ellipse, and not unfrequently in the form of a belt,like the channel of a river running for scores of miles between whatmight readily be mistaken for banks covered with a continuous thicket oflow bushes, which are nothing more than the "spray" of evergreen trees,whose roots lie forty feet under water!

  More frequently these openings are of irregular shape, and of suchextent as to merit the title of "inland seas." When such are to becrossed, the sun has to be consulted by the canoe or galatea glidingnear their centre; and when he is not visible,--by no means a rarephenomenon in the Gapo,--then is there great danger of the craftstraying from her course.

  When within sight of the so-called "shore," a clump of peculiar form, ora tree topping over its fellows, is used as a landmark, and often guidesthe navigator of the Gapo to the _igarita_ of which he is in search.

  It is not all tranquillity on this tree-studded ocean. It has its fogs,its gales, and its storms,--of frequent occurrence. The canoe is oftshattered against the stems of gigantic trees; and the galatea goesdown, leaving her crew to perish miserably in the midst of a gloomywilderness of wood and water. Many strange tales are told of suchmishaps; but up to the present hour none have received the permanentrecord of print and paper.

  Be it _our_ task to supply this deficiency.

  CHAPTER EIGHT.

  THE ECHENTE.

  It would not be true to say that the crew of the galatea were up withthe sun. There was no sun to shine upon the gloomy scene that revealeditself next morning. Instead, there was a fog almost thick enough to begrasped with the hand. They were astir, however, by the earliestappearance of day; for the captain of the galatea was too anxious abouthis "stranded" craft to lie late abed.

  They had no difficulty in getting the vessel afloat. A strong pull atthe branches of the sapucaya, and then an adroit use of the paddles,carried the craft clear.

  But what was the profit of this? Once out in the open water, they wereas badly off as ever. Not one of them had the slightest idea of thedirection they would take, even supposing they could find a clear coursein any direction! A consultation was the result, in which all handstook part, though it was evident that, after the patron, most deferencewas paid to the Mundurucu. The young Paraense stood next in the scaleof respect; while Tipperary Tom, beyond the account which he was calledupon to give of his steersmanship, was not permitted to mingle hisHibernian brogue in the discussion.

  Where was the river? That was the first problem to be solved, and ofthis there appeared to be no possible solution. There was no sun toguide them, no visible sky. Even had there been both, it would scarcehave mended the matter. The steersman could not tell whether, onstraying from the channel, he had drifted to the south or the north, theeast or the west; and, indeed, an intellect less obtuse than that ofTipperary Tom might have been puzzled upon the point. It has beenalready mentioned, that the Solimoes is so tortuous as to turn to everypoint of the compass in its slow course. The mere fact that the moonwas shining at the time could be of little use to Tipperary Tom, whoseastronomy had never extended beyond the knowledge that there was a moon.

  Where lay the river? The interrogatory was repeated a score of times,without receiving a satisfactory answer; though every one on board--thelittle Rosita excepted--ventured some sort of reply, most, however,offering their opinion with a doubting diffidence. The Mundurucu,although repeatedly appealed to, had taken small part in the discussion,remaining silent, his eyes moodily wandering over the water, seekingthrough the fog for some clue to their escape from the spot.

  No one plied the paddles; they had impelled her out of sight of thesapucaya, now shrouded in the thick fog; but, as it was useless paddlingany farther, all hands had desisted, and were now resting upon theiroars. At this moment it was perceived that the galatea was in motion.The Mundurucu was the first to notice it; for his attention had for sometime been directed to such discovery. For this reason had he cast hissearching glances, now down into the turbid waters, and now out throughthe murky atmosphere. A thicket was discernible through the fog, butevery moment becoming less distinct. Of course it was only a collectionof tree-tops; but whatever it was, it soon became evident that thegalatea was very slowly receding from it. On discovering this, theMundurucu displayed signs of fresh animation. He had been for someminutes lying upon his face, craning out over the gangway, and his longwithered arms submerged in the water. The others occupied themselves inguessing what he was about; but their guesses had been to no purpose.Equally purposeless had appeared the actions of the Indian; for, afterkeeping his arm under water for a period of several minutes, he drew itin with a dissatisfied air, and once more arose to his feet. It wasjust then that he perceived the tree-tops, upon which he kept his eyessharply fixed, until assured that the galatea was going away from them.

  "_Hoola_!" he exclaimed, attempting to imitate the cry he had more thanonce heard issuing from the lips of Tipperary Tom. "_Hoola_! the riveris out there!" As he spoke, he pointed towards the tree-tops.

  It was the first confident answer to the all-important question.

  "How can you tell that, Munday?" i
nquired the captain of the craft.

  "How tell, patron? How tell day from night, the moon from the sun, firefrom water? The Solimoes is there." The Indian spoke with his armstill extended in the direction of the trees.

  "We are willing to believe you," rejoined Trevannion, "and will trust toyour guidance; but pray explain yourself."

  "It's all guess-work," interpolated Tipperary Tom. "Ould Munday knowsno more av fwat he's talkin' about than Judy Fitzcummons's mother. I'llwarrant ye we come in from the t'other side."

  "Silence, Tom!" commanded his master. "Let us hear what Munday has tosay. _You_ have no right to contradict him."

  "Och, awance! An Indyen's opinion prefarred before that ov a freebornOirishman! I wondher what nixt." And as Tipperary completed hischapter of reproaches, he slank crouchingly under the shadow of the_toldo_.

  "So you think the river is there?" said Trevannion, once more addressinghimself to the Mundurucu.

  "The Mundurucu is sure of it, patron. Sure as that the sky is aboveus."

  "Remember, old man! It won't do for us to make any mistake. No doubtwe've already strayed a considerable distance from the channel of theSolimoes. To go again from it will be to endanger our lives."

  "The Mundurucu knows that," was the laconic reply.

  "Well, then, we must be satisfied of the fact, before we can venture tomake a move. What proof can you give us that the river lies in thatdirection?"

  "Patron! You know the month? It is the month of March."

  "Certainly it is. What of that?"

  "The _echente_."

  "The _echente_? What is that?"

  "The flood getting bigger. The water on the rise,--the Gapo stillgrowing,--that is the _echente_."

  "But how should that enable you to determine the direction of theriver?"

  "It has done so," replied the Indian. "Not before three months--inJune--will come the _vasante_."

  "The _vasante_?"

  "The _vasante_, patron: the fall. Then the Gapo will begin to growless; and the current will be _towards_ the river, as now it is _from_it."

  "Your story appears reasonable enough. I suppose we may trust to it.If so," added Trevannion, "we had better direct our course towardsyonder tree-tops, and lose no time in getting beyond them. All of youto your paddles, and pull cheerily. Let us make up for the time we havelost through the negligence of Tipperary Tom. Pull, my lads, pull!"

  At this cheering command the four paddlers rushed to their places; andthe galatea, impelled by their vigorous strokes, once more glided gaylyover the bosom of the waters.

  CHAPTER NINE.

  AN IMPASSABLE BARRIER.

  In a few moments the boat's bow was brought within half a cable's lengthof the boughs of the submerged trees. Her crew could see that toproceed farther, on a direct course, was simply impossible. With equalreason might they have attempted to hoist her into the air, and leapover the obstruction that had presented itself before them.

  Not only were the branches of the adjoining trees interlocked, but fromone to the other straggled a luxurious growth of creepers, forming anetwork so strong and compact that a steamer of a hundred horse-powerwould have been safely brought to a stand among its meshes. Of courseno attempt was made to penetrate this impenetrable _chevaux de frise_;and after a while had been spent in reconnoitring it, Trevannion, guidedby the counsel of the Mundurucu, ordered the galatea to go about, andproceed along the selvage of the submerged forest. An hour was spent inpaddling. No opening. Another hour similarly employed, and withsimilar results!

  The river might be in the direction pointed out by the Indian. No doubtit was; but how were they to reach it? Not a break appeared in all thatlong traverse wide enough to admit the passage of a canoe. Even anarrow could scarce have penetrated among the trees, that extended theirparasite-laden branches beyond the border of the forest! By tacitconsent of the patron, the paddlers rested upon their oars; then pliedthem once more; and once more came to a pause.

  No opening among the tree-tops; no chance to reach the channel of theSolimoes. The gloomy day became gloomier, for night was descending overthe Gapo. The crew of the galatea, wearied with many hours of exertion,ceased paddling. The patron did not oppose them; for his spirit, aswell as theirs, had become subdued by hope long deferred. As upon theprevious night, the craft was moored among the tree-tops, where herrigging, caught among the creepers, seemed enough to keep her fromdrifting away. But very different from that of the preceding night wasthe slumber enjoyed by her crew. Amidst the boughs of the sapucaya,there had been nothing to disturb their tranquillity, save theoccasional shower of nuts, caused by the cracking of the dry shells, andthe monkey-pots discharging their contents. Then was the galatea"grounded" upon a solitary tree, which carried only its own fruit.To-night she was moored in the middle of a forest,--at all events uponits edge,--a forest, not of the earth, nor the air, nor the water, butof all three,--a forest whose inhabitants might be expected to partakeof a character altogether strange and abnormal. And of such characterwere they; for scarce had the galatea become settled among thetree-tops, when the ears of her crew were assailed by a chorus ofsounds, that with safety might have challenged the choir of Pandemonium.Two alone remained undismayed,--Richard Trevannion and the Mundurucu.

  "Bah!" exclaimed the Paraense, "what are you all frightened at? Don'tyou know what it is, uncle?"

  "I know what it resembles, boy,--the Devil and his legions let loosefrom below. What is it, Dick?"

  "Only the howlers. Don't be alarmed, little Rosita!"

  The little Peruvian, gaining courage from his words, looked admiringlyon the youth who had called her "little Rosita." Any one could havetold that, from that time forward, Richard Trevannion might have thepower to control the destinies of his cousin.

  "The howlers! What are they?" inquired the old miner.

  "Monkeys, uncle; nothing more. From the noise they make, one mightsuppose they were as big as buffaloes. Nothing of the kind. Thelargest I ever saw was hardly as stout as a deerhound, though he couldmake as much noise as a whole kennel. They have a sort of a drum in thethroat, that acts as a sound-board. That's what enables them to get upsuch a row. I've often heard their concert more than two miles acrosscountry, especially in prospect of an approaching storm. I don't knowif they follow this fashion in the Gapo; but if they do, from the waythey're going it now, we may look out for a trifling tornado."

  Notwithstanding the apparent unconcern with which young Trevanniondeclared himself, there was something in his manner that arrested theattention of his uncle. While pronouncing his hypothetical forecast ofa storm, he had turned his glance towards the sky, and kept it fixedthere, as if making something more than a transient observation. Thefog had evaporated, and the moon was now coursing across the heavens,not against a field of cloudy blue, but in the midst of black, cumulusclouds, that every now and then shrouded her effulgence. A dweller inthe tropics of the Western hemisphere would have pronounced this signthe certain forerunner of a storm; and so predicted the young Paraense."We'll have the sky upon us within an hour," said he, addressing himselfmore especially to his uncle. "We'd better tie the galatea to thetrees. If this be a _hurricane_, and she goes adrift, there's noknowing where we may bring up. The likeliest place will be in thebottom of the Gapo."

  "The young patron speaks truth," interposed Munday, his eyes all thewhile reading the signs of the heavens; "The Mundurucu knows by yonderyellow sky."

  As he spoke, the Indian pointed to a patch of brimstone-coloured clouds,conspicuous over the tops of the trees. There was no reason why RalphTrevannion should not give credit to the two weather-prophets, who couldhave no personal motive in thus warning him. He yielded, therefore, totheir solicitation; and in ten minutes more the galatea was securedamong the tree-tops, as fast as cords could make her.

  CHAPTER TEN.

  A TROPICAL TORNADO.

  Notwithstanding the apparently complete security thus obtained for thecraft, th
e Mundurucu did not seem to be easy in his mind. He hadclimbed up the mast to the yard, and, having there poised himself, satgazing over the tops of the trees upon the patch of brimstone sky whichwas visible in that direction. The others all talked of going to sleep,except the young Paraense, who counselled them to keep awake. He, too,like the Mundurucu, was troubled with forebodings. He understood theweather-signs of the Solimoes, and saw that a storm was portending.Though the sun had not been visible during the whole day, it was nowabout the hour of his setting; and as if the storm had been waiting forthis as a signal, it now boldly broke forth. A few quick puffs, withshort intervals between them, were its precursors. These were soonfollowed by gusts, stronger, as well as noisier, in their advent; andthen the wind kept up a continuous roaring among the tops of the trees;while above the thunder rolled incessantly, filling the firmament withits terrible voice. Deep darkness and the vivid glare of thelightning-flashes followed each other in quick succession. At onemoment all was obscure around the crew of the galatea,--the sky, thetrees, the water, even the vessel herself; in the next, everything wasmade manifest, to the distance of miles, under a brilliance garish andunearthly. To add to the unnatural appearance of things, there wereother sounds than those of the thunder or the storm,--the cries ofliving creatures, strange and unknown. Birds they might be, or beasts,or reptiles, or all these, commingling their screams, and other accentsof affright, with the sharp whistling of the wind, the hoarse rumblingof the thunder, and the continuous crashing of the branches.