CHAPTER XXI.
It was not until the rain-clouds had all passed by that the padre chose to embark. The wind was still high, and our frail canoes were roughly cradled on the river's turbulent bosom.
Padre Felipe, Barbara, and I, with two Indians, filled the smaller of the two piraguas; the other held five Indians and a store of provisions for the journey.
The afternoon sky was naught but windy gloom; white clouds rolled over us in billowy folds, and tattered scarves of mist trailed lower still and seemed almost to snare their fringes on the topmost branches of the forest. Close under the protecting river-bank sped our light canoes, cutting their way through the gray waters. The dark-skinned crews bent to the paddle silently, with corded muscles tightening in their lean brown arms, and still, impassive faces fixed upon the seething current or the swiftly flying shores.
The gloom deepened slowly with the coming of the night. The waters darkened, the dun forest became black and vague. At last, to my eyes, it seemed that the sailing shadows in the sky, the inky, swirling stream, and the mysterious shores blended in one all-pervading impenetrable midnight. I could not realize that we were moving; it seemed, rather, that we alone were still, while over us and around us the spirits of the night flew past. I felt the wind of unseen wings lifting my hair; I heard the splash and gurgle of strange creatures swimming by. With my hands close locked on Barbara's arm, and wide eyes staring into nothingness, I waited for some human sound to break the palpitating silence.
Finally the padre spoke. He asked some question in the Indian tongue. One of the rowers grunted in reply, and there was a sudden cessation of the rapid paddle-strokes. Then a signal was given to the other canoe, and after some further discussion I felt that we approached the shore. There was a scraping, jarring sound, followed by the soft trampling of feet upon a marshy bank; and then a hand drew me up and guided me to land.
"The tide is running too strongly against us," explained the voice of Padre Felipe. "We will rest an hour or two and wait for it to turn."
They kindled a fire somehow and spread a blanket upon the damp ground. I remember that Barbara and I stretched ourselves upon it and I laid my head against the dame's shoulder,—then weariness overcame me.
It seemed the very next moment that I was roused; but the fire was out, and in the sky glimmered a few dim stars. There was a strange calm reigning as we re-embarked; for the wind had died and the whole aspect of the night had changed. All around us a faintly luminous sky lifted itself above the dense horizon line, and the broad bosom of the river paled to the hue of molten lead. Still brighter grew the heavens; the thin clouds drew aside, and the crescent of a waning moon spilled glory over us. And now our dark piraguas sped over the surface of a silver stream, and every paddle-blade dripped diamonds.