CHAPTER XXXII.—A STORM IN THE JUNGLE.
Two days later, before they turned away from the river, they heard some news of the Kini-Balus from a party of natives bound down-stream in dug-outs. Salloo learned from them that the tribe was at war, at least so it was supposed by the canoeists from the fact that they had heard that the chief of the Kini-Balus had been making levies of cattle and corn among his subjects.
“That sounds bad,” said Mr. Jukes, when this news had been interpreted to the party.
“No, him good,” asserted Salloo positively.
“How do you make that out?” asked Jack.
“If Kini-Balus makee war, they leave only women and old men at home. They no fight us,” argued the Malay, and they had to admit that there was a good deal of truth in what he said.
“We’re all going to get killed anyhow,” whimpered Donald, who had been taken along by the party, much against their will, in consideration of the services he had rendered in showing them the hiding place of the map.
“Him heap big coward,” muttered Salloo. “Boy’s body, girl’s heart.”
It was on the afternoon of the second day that the storm that Salloo had predicted overtook them. They were passing through a dense forest of magnificent trees when the eternal twilight that reigned under the great branches deepened till it was almost totally dark. Astonished at this phenomenon, for it was long before the proper hour for night to descend, they questioned Salloo.
“Big storm come,” he said, “me thinkee we better get out of here. Lightning hit a tlee maybe he killee us.”
The birds of the jungle screamed discordantly, as if warning each other of what was coming. Troops of monkeys swung through the trees as if seeking refuge, and the almost deafening chorus of insects and lizards gave way to total silence. It seemed as if nature was holding her breath preparatory to some great crisis.
“We had better look for some safe place to stay before it breaks,” counseled Captain Sparhawk. “A hurricane in the jungle is a serious matter. Trees are rooted up and struck by lightning and in the forest it is very dangerous for anyone to be caught by such a storm.”
“Me findee place,” said Salloo, and struck off down a dim trail leading toward the river. “Follow me, evelybody, and hully up.”
They needed no urging. The gloom and quiet of the forest was overawing. It had begun to get on their nerves. Under Salloo’s guidance they soon found themselves at a great mass of rocks on a high bank overlooking the river. The great masses of stone were piled in such a way that the crevices among them formed regular caves.
“We getee in here,” said Salloo, indicating the largest of them. “I send my men in annuder one.”
“I’m not going in there,” declared Donald, “there might be snakes or wild beasts inside.”
“You’d better come in or be blown away,” said Captain Sparhawk.
He had hardly spoken, before the storm broke in all its fury. Donald, with a cry of alarm, followed the others into shelter.
“Gracious, this beats anything I ever saw, even that storm off the Pamatous,” shouted Jack, above the shrieking of the wind.
“Him blow more big bimeby,” said Salloo, “him big storm this. You see.”
The trees swayed violently, and before long, from their shelter, they saw a big one torn up by the roots and hurtled from the bank into the river. The wind grew more violent. The dark air was filled with flying branches, leaves and sticks. Birds, large and small, were swept by, powerless to contend with the furious gale. Donald was crouched back in a far corner of their shelter, too frightened to do anything more than mumble and whimper.
The river began to rise and add its mighty voice to the other sounds, although no rain had yet fallen where they were. The darkness increased, but suddenly everything was lit up in a livid glare that made them all blink.
“Lightning,” exclaimed Salloo, “now him comin’.”
Then down came the rain. It literally fell in sheets, blotting out everything like a fog even when the constant flashes illuminated the scene. The water began to pour into their shelter from above, making it a very uncomfortable place. Soon the water was up to their knees and in the cave occupied by the carriers the men stood upright with their burdens on their heads to keep them out of the water.
“Gracious, I never saw so much water come down in my life,” exclaimed Jack. “It’s a regular—my!”
There had come a flash, a red ribbon of flame, so blinding that for an instant they could not see. It was followed by a crack of thunder that seemed to have split the sky. Donald gave a yell of alarm.
“Him hittee something close by for sure,” declared Salloo. He was right. Presently they saw a tall ceiba tree burst into flame like a torch. Fanned by the wind, it blazed fiercely even in the downpour. Its red glare lit up their faces in a ghostly manner, for it was not more than a few feet from their place of refuge.
“My, this is awful,” muttered Raynor. “Thank goodness we got out from under those trees in time.”
“Amen to that,” said Captain Sparhawk solemnly.
It rained for the rest of that night and in the morning they were sorry-looking objects. Everything was wet, and although they had tried to light a fire during the night, after the first violence of the storm had abated, they had not succeeded. But when, shortly before noon, the sun did come out, it shone down with a heat that made the whole wet earth steam. Clothes were spread out on the rocks to dry, as was the rest of the outfit. Fortunately, the bags the carriers bore were mostly of waterproof material, so not much damage was done to the contents.
It was a scene of havoc on which they gazed. The river ran high and its surface was littered with the bodies of dead monkeys, snakes, great trees torn up bodily, and other debris eloquent of the violence of the hurricane.
All round them lay big trees and the bodies of countless birds that had been dashed to death. It was some time before Salloo could persuade a fire to burn, but among the rocks, in crevices the rain had not penetrated, he found old dried leaves and sticks which made capital kindling and at last they cooked a hot meal, in need of which they all stood badly.
Then it was off on the long trail again. Late that afternoon, just as they were making camp, a party of natives came along the trail. They carried the skins of numerous beautiful birds that they had brought down with their blow-pipes. They were friendly and the boys bought some of the skins. Afterward Salloo had a long talk with them and, this being concluded, they kept on their way while our party went on with its preparations for spending the night.
Salloo had some news to disclose, he said. The natives he had been talking to knew the Kini-Balu Mountains well and told him, after he had described the cave they were looking for, that it was a very bad place. Nobody liked to go near it.
“On account of the Kini-Balus?” asked Mr. Jukes.
“No, on account um ghosts,” rejoined Salloo; “ghost of Taratao, old-time chief of Kini-Balus haunt him.”
“Begorry, so long as the ghosts ain’t got a punch it’s sorra a bit I care for ’em,” declared Muldoon valiantly.
That evening Salloo had a novelty for supper in the form of the flesh of a huge lizard, or iguana. At first the boys and their companions did not want to touch it, for in life it had been a hideous looking monster. But being pressed by Salloo, they consented, and found it very good eating. Its flesh tasted like chicken, though even more delicate.
It was about an hour after the meal when they were preparing for bed that Jack complained that he was feeling poorly. He said he had a headache and a feeling of vertigo. The others then admitted experiencing the same symptoms. Nausea soon succeeded these and ere long they were all convinced that they had been poisoned by eating the iguana. The natives, who camped some distance off with Salloo, experienced no such illness but then they had eaten none of the iguana which, to Captain Sparhawk’s mind, made it all the more certain that it was the giant lizard’s flesh that had made them ill.
Salloo was called from the native camp and bitterly reproached for inducing them to eat it. He protested that it could not have been the iguana that had made them ill. Had he not himself eaten it? But in the end he returned to the native camp with his head hung down, completely crushed by what he deemed the injustice of his white friends in blaming him for their illness. At first they were not greatly alarmed, not deeming it possible that they had actually been poisoned, and Captain Sparhawk administered remedies from the medicine chest. But, to their alarm, instead of decreasing in severity, their sufferings grew more acute as the night wore on.
Their ideas became confused, and as in sea-sickness in an acute stage, they lay about, not caring whether they lived or died. If they tried to rise, their heads swam, their feet tottered. Thus it was that Salloo found them in the morning when he came from the native camp.
The faithful fellow was seriously alarmed and set up a mighty wailing which soon brought his followers running over. But the sufferers only turned dull eyes upon them and moaned in their pain. Plainly they were in such a serious condition that unless something was done soon to relieve them, death itself might put an end to their misery. Salloo looked about him wildly, hoping to catch some solution to the mystery of this sudden illness. He raised his eyes upward and his lips moved as if he were invoking the aid of some heathen deity.
But suddenly the expression on his countenance changed. His eyes were fixed on the leaves of a tree under which the sufferers had passed the night. For the first time, too, he became aware of a peculiarly sickening odor in the air. It smelled like carrion. As some huge scarlet flowers which grew on the tree began to open to the daylight (they had been closed at night) this terrible stench became stronger. Salloo uttered a single shout of comprehension.
“Upas!” It was echoed by his companions, whom Salloo at once directed to pick up the sufferers and carry them to some distance. When the last had been transported, Salloo got water from a forest pool and poured it over them. One by one they began to revive. Jack, who was one of the first to come to, rose dizzily to his feet and tried to walk. But Salloo gently made him lie down again. After an hour or so all felt better and partook of some soup and weak tea.
“Salloo, you are forgiven,” said Captain Sparhawk, “but never persuade us to eat lizard again. You came near being the death of us all.”
“Faith, oi was niver so near the Pearly Gates before,” declared Muldoon emphatically.
“Him no lizard hurt you,” declared Salloo vehemently; “lizard heap good. Upas he hurt you. If I no see it and have you moved away you plitty soon have died.”
“What do you mean, Salloo?” asked Mr. Jukes. “Do you mean our sickness had anything to do with the tree we camped under?”
“Ebblyting,” was the reply; “him tree was the upas.”
“I see it all now,” exclaimed Captain Sparhawk. “That tree was the deadly upas of which you may have heard. Every one in the Indian Archipelago knows of it. Within its great red blossoms are the sepulchre of birds and insects whose bodies, lying rotting there, give out that terrible odor which ought to warn all travelers against it. But we camped when it was getting dark and the flowers were closed, keeping the noxious reek from escaping and warning us. Salloo is right, and if he had not had us dragged from under it we should have perished miserably.”
“I remember reading somewhere of the upas,” said Jack, “but I always thought its deadly qualities were exaggerated. After our last night’s experience I’ll know better.”
“I suppose the heat of our camp fire under the branches had something to do with it, too,” said Billy.
“Undoubtedly,” declared the captain. “And then as we sat around after supper we were, unknown to ourselves, inhaling the deadly vapor till we grew sick. Instead of moving away before we grew worse, as we certainly would have if we had known the cause of our malady, we made ourselves worse by lying down to sleep with that poisonous breath as our only atmosphere. Salloo, your lizard is vindicated, and to show you it is, the next one you shoot I’ll volunteer to eat.”
But although recovered, they still felt weak from the effects of their terrible night under the upas, whose Latin name, if any one wishes to know it, is antiaris toxicaria. In fact, their feelings were very like those of persons just getting over sea-sickness. They felt buoyantly well and happy, but not yet quite strong enough for the hard work of the trail. So they remained where they were till the next day and then pushed on once more on their quest.