WE COME AT LENGTH TO THE MOUTH OF THE ORONOQUE, BUT WITH DISMAL FOREBODINGS.
It was piteous to see how these poor seamen, ragged as any bears, and thin as hurdles, were affected with joy when they learnt that their troubles were as good as ended—weeping and laughing by turns, like very fools. This extravagance of delight was, I say, sad to behold, for sure the sight of strong men who have lost the dignity and composure of manhood, and are brought to the weak condition of little children, is not less deplorable than the aspect of young faces overcast with the care and anxiety of age.
However, this was but the shock of suddenly returning hope, and when the transport was over they became reasonable, and mended apace. The ease of going down that river in comparison with ascending it is incredible, as may be gathered from the fact that in one day we passed two marks set up by these poor fellows at intervals of eight and ten days. At each of such marks they would stop to give a great cheer of delight; then, filled with fresh vigor by these sure signs of rapid progress, they lay themselves with such might to their oars that 'twas as much as my friend Matthew and I in the canoe, with Lady Biddy at the helm, could do to keep up with them.
And here it may not be amiss to tell that my dear lady, before joining this company of men, had taken occasion to change her stripling's dress for the gown we had carried down with us, for now there was no longer necessity for her to penetrate the thick woods, exposing herself to brier and bramble, and she would no more appear in a dress unbecoming to her sex.
We had been descending the river best part of three weeks, when Pennyfarden assured us we were nearing an island whereon, to lighten their boats (in order to make better head against the stream), they had left some of their stores under a tent made of a lug-sail; and soon after this, a joyful shout from the company in that boat that led the way signified that the island was in sight.
"Now," says friend Matthew—"now shall we be all able to dress ourselves decently, and return to Sir Bartlemy like Christians, for amongst the stores is a chest of excellent buff jerkins and sea-boots."
Presently, coming up to this island, where the seamen were already landed, we found them wandering about in great vexation and trouble, for the tent had been torn down, and they could find none of their stores, save an empty barrel and the charred end of their chest, which had been broken up for firewood.
At first we set it down that the Ingas had been there; but Pennyfarden, casting his eyes about that part where the empty barrel lay, shook his head ruefully, and declared that they had no hand in this business.
"Pray how can you tell that?" says I.
"Why, look you, master," says he, stooping down and picking up three or four long iron nails that lay scattered in the herb, "no Inga would have wantonly cast these away, for he prizes them more than all the gold and precious stones by which we set such store. And they have not been overlooked or dropped by accident, for they were bound up in paper, and lay at the bottom of the barrel; and, see, they are scattered broadcast around us—scattered by those who themselves had no need of such things, and were meanly minded that no one else should profit by them—wanton waste and devilry that the worst Inga would not be guilty of. I do sadly fear that this is the work of mad sailors; what say you, Master Palmer?" adds he, addressing an old seaman who had joined us.
"Like enough—like enough," says Palmer dismally; "and if it be as you suppose, then Heaven help us all. For," adds he, after a long-drawn sigh, "none of our ship-mates would thus destroy and waste our stores unless he had mutinied against our captain, and sought to bring grief by our undoing."
The rest of our company, coming up, joined in this opinion, and one cried that there was no hope left us. But my lady, who was ever quick to spy a comforting gleam where none saw aught but dismal clouds, told them they did wrong to despond so readily, "for," says she, "if some of the men have rebelled, 'tis clear they have gained but little by it, or they would not have come hither."
"You are in the right of it, madam," says Palmer. "If they mutinied, 'twas because they would no longer lie at the mouth of the Oronoque, awaiting our return; and had they succeeded in overcoming our good captain, they would at once have set sail and gone hence."
The company, seeing the soundness of this argument, plucked up courage again; but we all agreed that, as the mutineers might be somewhere betwixt us and Sir Bartlemy, we must proceed with caution; and as the nights were fairly light (though no moon), and the river pretty well known to us, we resolved to journey only by night henceforth.
By the end of that week the rains began to fall. However, this gave us but little trouble, for not only did it increase the strength of the current that bore us onwards, but it lessened our danger of falling in with marauders, who would now be forced to seek shelter of some sort. My chief concern was for Lady Biddy; but I contrived to protect her from the pelting storm with a very fair kind of tent set up in the canoe.
We reached that mouth of the Oronoque where the ships lay at nightfall on the third day of the rains, and without molestation; and here, though it was too dark to make out the vessels, we discerned a light about a mile out, as we judged. Thither we considered it advisable to proceed at once, for if we found that the mutineers had overcome my uncle and held the ships, then might we with more likelihood return to land, and escape with our lives under cover of the night.
So now, with as little noise as possible, we drew out into the open, Thomas Palmer, who was an admirable good seaman, leading the way in the biggest of our boats.
We were yet a couple of furlongs from the light when Palmer stayed his rowers, and we coming up with him, he whispered us that one of the ships lay hard by without light aboard; and sure enough, on straining our eyes, we perceived on our right hand a dark mass, which might well be a ship's hulk, but I could make out nothing for the pelting rain and obscurity.
"Well, Palmer," says I, "what is best to do? Shall we examine this closer or go on?"
"Master," says he, "I am for examining this vessel. For if we get an ill reception on the further ship, and alarm is given, our retreat to the shore may be cut off by a sortie from this here."
So, being agreed amongst themselves, we drew on till we reached the ship, and then we found that she lay aground and on her side, as if she had been careened. Twice we pulled right around her, raising our voices to draw attention; but no one stirred abroad, and we remained unchallenged. Not a sound could we hear, nor could we find out much with our eyes for the darkness and rain (as I say); but in passing those ports on the under side of the ship, that lay pretty near on a level with our heads as we stood up in our boats, a most sickening stench assailed our nostrils. Not knowing what to be at, we lay still for a few minutes, listening in silence; then Palmer called out lustily and we beat the side of the ship with our oars. Never a sound did we get in reply, nor could we spy sign of movement or glimmer of light anywhere, which put our superstitious seamen to great fear. But this Thomas Palmer, being bolder than the rest, presently volunteered to go into the ship by one of the ports and get some explanation of this mystery, which he accordingly did, and after being absent some time he comes again to the port, and cries out that we can come aboard if we will, for there is none there to do us mischief.
"What!" cries one of the seamen, "are none of our old mates aboard?"
"That I can not tell for the darkness," says Palmer; "but mates or not, this I will answer for—every man-jack of 'em is dead."
At this moment Pennyfarden, catching me by the arm, calls out:
"Lord love us, master! look above there."
Looking up as he bade us we then perceived (our eyes being now grown accustomed to this obscurity) two bodies hanging over the sea about a fathom from our heads we sat in our boats, on that side of the ship which (as I say) inclined over towards the water. Despite the dimness, we made these out to be the corpses of men, and doubted not that they hung there from the yard-arms above.
For some while we could do nothing but strain our eyes at these indistinct objects as they slowly swung in the little breeze that was springing, being pierced (as it were) with fear that this was my poor old uncle, thus barbarously put to death by the mutineers; but still more terrified with the uncertainty of the whole business, the silence, the darkness, and that foul stench of corruption that poisoned the air.
"Let us get hence!" says one of the seamen hoarsely.
"Nay, we must know if this be our commander that hangs here ere we venture to the ship where there is light," says Palmer. "Have you never a tinder-box, master, or anything dry enough to burn?"
I had my tinder-gun dry in my pocket, and my lady found amongst our store in the canoe two or three of the cuati-nuts, and with some ado we contrived to get these alight under the tent that I have mentioned. And when they were well ablaze we rowed right under the hanging bodies, where, standing up, I suddenly brought the flaming nuts out of the tent and lifted them up as high as I could over my head, so that the light fell on the faces above. Their eyes were staring wide open, and their lower jaws were dropped. But one was an eye short, and I knew him at once for Ned Parsons; while the other, by his pointed teeth alone, I could have sworn to amongst a thousand for our old enemy Rodrigues!