CHAPTER XX
A DREARY RETURN
Harry was correct: the boat was gliding steadily back with the stream, and Sree was standing right forward in the prow, looking out and uttering warnings from time to time of dangers ahead, in the shape of fallen trees, while he kept on admonishing the men to be content with keeping the boat straight while the darkness lasted, and deferring all attempts at making speed till the day came.
It was still very dark, the stars being nearly blotted out by the thin mist; but there were sundry significant hints that morning was approaching, for the scintillation of the fire-flies had ceased, and the chorus of reptile and wandering beast in the depths of the forest was dying away.
Leaving Mr. Kenyon and the doctor talking, the boys were standing together right astern beyond the two rowers there, who were too intent upon working their oars to pay any heed to them and their discourse, though as it was carried on in English, they could have made out nothing, had they listened.
"I'm glad father wasn't cross," said Harry after several awkward attempts at getting up a conversation, Phra having replied to all he said in monosyllables, as in the present instance.
"Yes."
"It seemed so queer to get up and contradict his orders, and say we would do as we liked."
"Yes," said Phra, with a sigh, and then he added, "but it was quite right, for we both felt that it was like doing our duty."
"Ah!" cried Harry eagerly. "So it was. Look here, Phra, old chap, don't you be down-hearted."
"I am not going to be till I know the worst."
"That's the way to take it; for look here, that Adong would only know that there was gong-beating and spearing and setting places on fire—a regular riot. He would not know anything about how matters were at the palace."
"No; he could not," said Phra, with a sigh.
"And your father has got plenty of fighting men, who could soon stop a mob."
"If they were faithful to him," said Phra, sighing.
"Oh well, they would be for certain."
"I don't know," said Phra. "I have always been afraid of this. You see, the second king has made friends with the bonzes, and they can talk and preach to the people, and make them believe almost anything about my father."
"Because he does all kinds of scientific things," said Harry, "that they cannot understand."
"Yes," said Phra; "it is the old story. They are too stupid to grasp the meaning of all he does, and because they cannot understand it, they teach the people to believe that it is all what you English people call 'witchcraft' and wickedness. Oh, I have not patience with the silly babies—they are not men."
"I hope we shall have a chance to knock some of their thick heads together. There, you are getting in better heart now about the news."
Phra turned upon him sadly.
"Are you getting in better heart about poor Mrs. Cameron?" he said.
"Oh, Phra!" cried Harry passionately. "Don't."
"You tell me to be of good heart about my father and you are in despair about Mrs. Cameron."
"Yes, that's right," cried Harry passionately; "but I won't be so any longer, for I don't believe that any of your people, even the very worst of them, would be such wretches as to hurt her."
Phra uttered a low groan.
"What!" cried Harry. "You do believe they would?"
"Our people," said Phra sadly, "are, as my father has said to me, quiet and good and gentle as can be. They always seem merry and happy; but deep down in their nature there is a something which can be stirred up, and then they are like the fierce savages from the mountains yonder. They will do anything terrible then, and these wretches who are trying to place the second king in my father's place know that and have driven them to rise. Hal, we can't tell what may have happened till we get down home; but if they have killed my father, I am king, and I shall pray night and day that I may grow quickly into a man, so that I may kill and kill and kill till I feel that my dear father is avenged. It will be war until I have done my duty there."
Harry was silent, as he stood listening and gazing in his companion's face, which had suddenly seemed to start out of the darkness—the face alone; all else was pretty well invisible—and there it was, a strange, pale, ghastly-looking visage, distorted by the agony in the boy's breast, and the deadly determination the pangs had brought forth.
Harry shuddered, and for some time the only sounds heard were the murmur of voices in the cabin and the swish of water as the men dipped their oars.
"Your father was right," said the English boy at last.
"What about?" said Phra hoarsely.
"About the Siamese people being so amiable and gentle until they are stirred."
"Yes, I see what you mean," replied Phra, "and I suppose it is so, Hal. I feel as if I can see my poor father lying dead and covered with bad wounds given by a set of cowards rushing upon him, and it makes me seem to see blood, and I want to punish them for killing one who has thought of nothing but doing the people good."
"There, don't think such things any more," cried Harry. "I won't. It can't be true. I'm going to believe that we shall find him and Mrs. Cameron quite well. Yes; I know how it would be, for your father is such a thorough gentleman in his ways, and so thoughtful. As soon as he heard of there being any trouble, he would either go or send one of the people with a lot of spearmen to protect them, and bring Mrs. Cameron and all the English people into the palace. Now then, what have you got to say to that?"
"Yes, I think he is sure to have done that," said Phra, speaking very slowly and gravely. "He would—if he had time; but suppose the first he heard of the trouble was in the mad rush made by his murderers."
"Shan't!" cried Harry. "I won't suppose anything of the kind. But I say, it's a pity that we didn't take more notice about what I heard said that day when we were lying in the boat place."
"Yes," said Phra; "but I did not think we need mind a few bitter words. Such things have been so often said by the discontented people."
"Discontented!" cried Harry angrily; "and a deal they had to be discontented about! They always seemed, from the poorest to the richest, as comfortable and as happy as could be."
The morning broke as bright and sunny as ever, but to those on board the boat all was changed. The excitement and delight of the trip, with its constant array of fresh objects, were gone. The birds which flashed out of the trees looked dull of colour; the troops of monkeys bounding through the branches on either side were unnoticed; and the gorgeous displays of flowers that here and there greeted the eyes of the travellers excited no attention.
The crocodiles seemed to Harry to be the only things in keeping with their situation, as in a gloomy, despondent way he went to the fore part of the boat to look out for them on a mud bank, or lying, with only their eyes visible on the surface of the water, in some eddy or pool.
The constant presence of these loathsome reptiles suggested to him the troubles at the city and its outskirts. And he felt that there would be fighting, with people slain and tossed into the stream, where the crocodiles would gather in swarms; and there were moments when he almost wondered that some strange instinct did not lead the horrible creatures to follow the boat instead of hiding in the dark parts, where the trees hung their branches low down and touching the water.
After a time he heard his name called, and he went back to the cabin, where he felt quite hurt and disgusted to see that Mike had prepared a comfortable breakfast, and his friends were waiting for him before beginning.
Harry's face must have spoken plainly his wonder at seeing the doctor, so short a time before overcome with grief, looking perfectly calm and serious, and prepared to take his place. His father noticed it, and spoke at once.
"Yes, my boy," he said, "we must eat and drink, or the machinery will be useless when we want it most for thinking and acting. Sit down and make a good breakfast."
"Oh, father," cried the boy passionately, "I feel as if I could not touch anything."
"We all do, Hal," said Mr. Kenyon; "but we may have to fight, and we shall require all our strength in our efforts to save Mrs. Cameron and the King."
Harry nodded, took his place, and—there is no other way of describing what followed—ate and drank savagely, acting as if every morsel or draught that passed his lips were to give him strength for what might come.
The meal was soon ended, and Mike received his orders to see that the men were refreshed, while the doctor and Mr. Kenyon commenced talking, with the result that the two boys now went right aft and sat together looking up stream.
For some minutes neither spoke, and then Harry broke out angrily:—
"It makes me feel mad," he cried.
"Yes," said Phra, "and one feels the worse at having to sit here and wait, without being able to do anything."
"I didn't mean that," cried Harry angrily; "I mean about sitting and eating and drinking there, just as if I was an animal without any feeling. It's horrible."
"Your father was quite right," said Phra; "we do want to be strong."
Harry grunted, and turned away his face, to sit scowling at the river, while Phra rested his head upon his hand.
"Oh," cried Harry at last, "I should like to kill some one."
Phra smiled at him sadly.
"Perhaps we shall have to try before long," he said.
"I hope so. I should like to help kill all the wretches who have made all this trouble."
"Should you?" said Phra, with a faint smile. "But look here, Hal, you will try and help me to save my father?"
"Will I?" cried the boy angrily. "Why, you know I will. Here, Phra, let's try and think out some way of getting him out of the palace."
"I'm afraid we shall find that he has shut himself up there, and that we cannot get near him."
"Well, so long as he is safe we need not mind."
They sat on talking and planning together, more for the sake of keeping from dwelling on the great trouble than from any hope of thinking out something feasible, and the day wore on till the boat was drawn up to an opening in the apparently endless jungle.
Harry said to his companion that it was a shame, but it was a necessity. Food had to be cooked for the men as well as for themselves, and it was no loss of time, for after a couple of hours' rest the men worked with renewed energy, the boat gliding swiftly down the stream till it became too dark to venture farther amidst the many dangers to navigation. In fact, they had kept on till, in spite of the native boatmen's skill, the light craft was run half over a huge tree-trunk lying out at right angles to the bank, and for a time a terrible capsize was imminent.
For the bows were clean out of the river for some distance, and the water began to rush in over the stern, till several of the men crept forward, with the result that the bows went down so suddenly, as the craft balanced on the great trunk, that the water rushed in at the other end, and it seemed to be a foregone conclusion that they would sink. For with a rush and a plunge they cleared the obstacle, gliding over into the deep water, the boat filling to gunwale as she came to a level again, with every one preparing to swim for the nearest shore.
But Sree called upon the little crew to follow his example, and they all glided overboard, taking opposite sides, and supported themselves by holding on to the boat.
Then, in obedience to calls from Sree, the boys handed the men various articles from Mike's little kitchen arrangements. Those left on board took crock and bucket, and from their united efforts in baling, all danger of sinking was soon at an end, while in a few minutes the men one by one crept back into the boat, where they could bale with more effect.
Finally the boat was entirely freed from water, and an opening, which happened to be near at hand, was reached, a fire made for drying clothes, and as wretched a night as could be imagined was spent.
But they were all dry and able to start the moment it began to be light, and that day was a repetition of the preceding, and followed by another despondent night, this time, though, one which gave refreshment to all.
That next day they knew they would reach the river town, and had to time themselves so as not to get there before dark, in spite of the eagerness for news. But it was hard to contrive everything to their wishes. It had been expected that they would get right back two hours before sunset, and this meant lying up in some creek for that space, while Sree or Adong went forward by land to reconnoitre and bring news of the state of affairs; but it so happened that the tide had not been counted upon, and instead of gliding down with the stream for the latter part of the way, they had to force the boat against an adverse current, so that it became hard work to get to their destination by dark.