“That’s so, sir; and the old Indians telled their children about how they’d been used, and their children told the next lot, and so it’s gone on till it’s grown into a sort of religion that the Spaniard is a sort o’ savage wild beast, who ought to be killed; and that ain’t the worst on it.”
“Then what is?” said Rob, for Shaddy looked round at him and stopped short, evidently to be asked that question.
“Why, the worst of it is, sir, that they poor hungered, savage sort o’ chaps don’t know the difference between us and them Dons. English means an Englishman all the wide world over, says you; but you’re wrong. He ain’t out here. Englishman, or Italian, or Frenchman’s a Spaniard; and they’ll shoot us as soon as look at us.”
“Why, you’re making for the other shore, Naylor.”
“Yes, sir. I’d ha’ liked to land you yonder, but you see it ain’t safe, so we’ll light a fire on the other side, where it is, and get a bit o’ breakfast, for I’m thinking as it’s getting pretty nigh time.”
“But is it safe to land there?” asked Brazier.
“Yes, sir; you may take that for granted. East’s sit down and be comfortable; west side o’ the river means eyes wide open and look out for squalls.”
“But you meant to go up some river west.”
“True, sir; but you leave that to me.”
As they began to near the eastern shore, where the land was more park-like and open, the wind began to fail them, and the sail flapped, when the four boatmen, who had been lying about listlessly, leaped up, lowered it down, and then, seizing the oars, began to row with a long, steady stroke. Then Shaddy stood up, peering over the canvas awning, and looking eagerly for a suitable place for their morning halt, and ending by running the boat alongside of a green meadow-like patch, where the bank, only a couple of feet above the water level, was perpendicular, and the spot was surrounded by huge trees, from one of which flew a flock of parrots, screaming wildly, while sundry sounds and rustlings in that nearest the water’s edge proved that it was inhabited.