Through Forest and Stream Part 10

"There, I knowed it warn't all the time, only Bill Cross said he was sure it were. Here, come out! Way he! it's all right."

The carpenter forced his way out of the jungle soon after, glaring at Pete.

"Here," he cried gruffly, "what d'ye mean by scaring a fellow like that?"

"It warn't me," cried Pete. "You said it was our s.h.i.+p coming after us."

"Never mind, now," said my uncle. "Set the fire going again, and get yourselves some breakfast; but don't be in such a hurry to take fright next time. We'd better have our dinner at the same time, Nat; and if there's any wind this evening we'll sail southward."

There was plenty of wind, and so quite early in the afternoon the anchor was placed on board, Pete tucked up his trousers and ran the boat out, and then scrambled in to help with the sail. Then, as the boat careened over and glided away, he and his companion gave a hearty cheer.

We sailed along the coast southward for days and days, always finding plenty to interest and a few specimens worth shooting, both Bill and Pete looking on with the most intense interest at the skinning and preserving, till one day the latter said confidently:

"I could do that, Mr Nat."

"Very well," I said; "you shall try with one of the next birds I shoot."

"At last," cried my uncle a day or two later, and, seizing the tiller, he steered the boat straight for a wide opening and into what seemed to be a lake, so surrounded were we by tropical trees.

But the current we met soon showed that we were at the mouth of a good-sized river, and the wind being in our favour, we ran up it a dozen miles or so before evening.

For a long time the sh.o.r.es right and left had been closing in, and our progress growing slower, for the forest, which had been at some distance, now came down to the water's edge, the trees were bigger, and for the last two miles we had sailed very slowly, shut in as we were by the great walls of verdure which towered far above the top of our mast and completely shut out the wind.

Fortunately, the river was deep and sluggish so that progression was comparatively easy, and every hundred yards displayed something tempting to so ardent a naturalist as my uncle.

Not always pleasant, though, for the sluggish waters swarmed with huge alligators, and every now and then one plunged in from the bank with a mighty splash.

Some of the first we saw were approached innocently enough--for to unaccustomed eyes they looked like muddy logs floating down stream, and Pete laughed at me when I told him to lift his oar as we pa.s.sed one so drowsy that it paid no heed.

"Raise your oar-blade," I said, as we glided along, "or that brute may turn angry and upset us."

I was sitting holding the tiller, steering, and Bill Cross held the other oar, while my uncle, tired out by a tramp ash.o.r.e, was lying down forward, fast asleep, in the shadow cast by the sail, which kept on filling and flapping--for in the reach we had now entered the wind was hardly felt.

"I never saw a tree run at a boat, Master Nat," said Pete, as he raised his oar-blade. But before we had half pa.s.sed the sleeping reptile the boy gave it a sudden chop on the back, and then, horrified by the consequence of his act, he started up in his place, plunged overboard into the deep, muddy water on the other side, and disappeared.

For a moment or two I thought that we were all going to follow, for the reptile struck the boat a tremendous blow with its tail as it plunged down, raising the river in waves and eddies, and making our craft dance so that the water nearly came over the side, and we all clung to the nearest object to our hands.

"What's that?" cried my uncle.

"Alligator," I said, in a startled tone.

"Where's the boy?"

"Gone overboard."

"Not seized by one of the loathsome monsters?"

"Oh, no, sir," said Bill, who looked rather startled. "He chopped it, and it scared him over the side."

"Well, where is he?" cried my uncle, appealing to me, while I looked vainly over the surface, which was now settling down.

"I--I don't know," I stammered. "He went over somewhere here."

"But where did he come up?" cried my uncle. "Haven't you seen him?"

I was silent, for a terrible feeling of dread kept me from speaking, and my uncle turned to the carpenter.

"No, sir, I haven't seen him," was the reply.

"Let the boat drift down. Don't pull, man, you're sending us over to the other side. Stop a moment."

My uncle hurriedly took Pete's place, seized the oar that was swinging from the rowlock, and began to pull so as to keep the boat from drifting, while I steered.

"Hadn't you better let her go down a bit, sir?" said the carpenter. "He may be drifting, and will come up lower."

"But the lad could swim," said my uncle, as I began to feel a horrible chill which made my hands grow clammy.

"Swim? Yes, sir--like a seal. I'm getting skeart. One of they great lizardy things must have got him."

"Cease rowing!" cried my uncle, and he followed my example of standing up in the boat and scanning the surface, including the nearest sh.o.r.e-- that on our left, where the trees came right down to the water.

They stopped together, and let the boat drift slowly with the current downward and backward, till all at once there was a light puff of hot wind which filled the sail, and we mastered the current, once more gliding slowly up stream, with the water pattering against the sides and bows.

But there was no sign of Pete, and having failed to take any bearings, or to remember by marks on the sh.o.r.e whereabouts he had gone down, we were quite at fault, so that when the wind failed again and the boat drifted back, it was impossible to say where we had seen the last of the poor lad.

I felt choking. Something seemed to rise in my throat, and I could only sit there dumb and motionless, till all at once, as the wind sprang up again, filled the sail, and the boat heeled over, the necessity of doing something to steer her and keep her in the right direction sent a thrill through me, and I did what I ought to have done before.

For, as the water rattled again under the bows and we glided on, I shouted aloud--

"Pete, lad, where are you?"

"Ahoy!" came from a distance higher up, farther than we could have deemed possible after so much sailing.

"Hooray!" shouted the carpenter. "Why he's got ash.o.r.e yonder."

"Where did the hail come from, Nat?" said my uncle, with a sigh of relief.

"Seemed to be from among the trees a hundred yards forward there to the left."

"Run her close in, then, and hail, my lad," he cried.

He had hardly spoken before the wind failed again, and they bent to their oars.

"Where are you, Pete?" I shouted.

"Here, among the trees," came back, and I steered the boat in the direction, eagerly searching the great green wall of verdure, but seeing nothing save a bird or two.

"Are you ash.o.r.e?" I shouted.