I followed his gesture with my eyes, and they immediately lit upon two writhing portions of a very deadly-looking snake. The guide had cut the venomous reptile in two, but not before the latter had buried its poisonous fangs in the almost unprotected leg of its victim.
A shudder ran through every one’s frame, for sailors have a natural horror of serpents, poisonous or otherwise. Nevertheless Ned Burton offered to suck the wound, and endeavour to save the poor victim’s life. This, however, Mr. Triggs would not permit.
We laid the unfortunate man carefully upon the ground; but he was already almost in a state of coma, so virulent was the poison and so rapid in its effects. Ned gently rolled up the leg of the thin white linen trousers the victim was wearing; and on the right leg, a little way above the ankle, a small puncture revealed itself, which was evidently the mark of the snake’s fang. The whole limb was terribly swollen as high as the knee, and the foot was in the same state.
I cannot dwell upon this episode; even now it makes me shudder to think of it. Suffice it to say that in five minutes the man was stone dead. This unfortunate occurrence threw a gloom over our party. Every one spoke in hushed whispers, and it was in a very depressed mood that we set about digging a rough shallow grave for the poor fellow’s remains, under the shade of a spreading wild cotton-tree.
“And now,” said Mr. Triggs, when the last sad offices were over, “we’re in a pretty good fix, for we’ve lost our guide, and don’t know which way to steer our course.”
“Let’s keep straight on in the direction we were going when the accident happened,” I suggested; “we can’t go far wrong.”
“We must either do that or make tracks for the main body of our shipmates,” observed Ned Burton. “It seems to me there ain’t no middle course, so to speak.”
The gunner mused for some time with his eyes fixed upon the ground. He appeared to be in a brown study, and oblivious of what was going on around him. Most of the men had lit their pipes and were conversing in low tones. Ned and I discussed the situation earnestly and in all its bearings, and came to the conclusion that it would be a thousand pities to abandon the expedition. All our adventurous instincts scouted such a proposition.
I went up to the gunner and laid my hand upon his arm.
“Ned and I both think we ought to push on at all hazards,” I said. “I hope you agree with us, Mr. Triggs.”