A nosing alligator swished his tail against a pile and darted off in sudden alarm; but he came round again speedily, just as the half-fainting man roused sufficiently to be conscious that he was in the water. Jeffreys was asleep, but Dan's sailor senses were alert in an instant. His eyes opened, he glanced around, missed Morgan, and peered over into the flood. The fallen man cried out, and the huge reptile that had espied him moved off again. Dan saw both, shouted in alarm, and hurled a handy log at the prowling horror; then he swung himself, monkey fashion, down a stout pile, seized Morgan by the hair, and brought him so that he got a grip of the platform. A minute later Johnnie swung himself into safety, and only just in time, for more than one scaly reptile had scented the feast, and was hurrying through the moonlit waters, eager and voracious. This unlucky sousing in the flood settled the grip of the fever on Morgan. When next he sunned himself on the platform the waters had subsided, the mud was baked and cracking, and the major portion of the expedition leagues away southwards.
Chapter XXXV.
A FOE.
Johnnie Morgan was not the only sick man left behind in the Indian village. Master Jeffreys had had the strong hand of the fever upon him; and the son of the parson of Newnham, like his neighbour and friend the Blakeney yeoman, found the air of the Orinoco less invigorating than the air of the Severn. With the three sick men had been left three sound men as guard and escort. Two of these, the Johnsons, had elected to remain with their friend Master Timothy, and a soldier had been chosen to keep them company. Johnnie was the last of the three invalids to recover; indeed, the others had made plans for their journey in the wake of the main expedition long before he was fit to take his place in the boat.
It was fortunate for the six left behind that all, save one, were experienced navigators, and that two of these had had the opportunity of sailing boats on the Severn, the most treacherous of all English tidal rivers. The boat built after the fashion of a native canoe was left for them; they rigged a mast and small sail, fixed a rudder, and, with a native of the village as guide, set off a little after sunrise one morning.
For many days the voyage was uneventful enough. Captain Drake had gone before, and the natives were everywhere eager to welcome the Englishmen and render them every assistance. They were warned of dangers in the river, which still ran strongly, and was in places a couple of miles in width. Guides were readily provided, and everything done to hasten them on their way. Their light boat went splendidly; they were spared many of the ceremonious visitations that had fallen upon their captain, and often, during the day, made two miles of progress to one made by him over the same stretch of river. Each sunset found them nearer and nearer to the main body, and they were quick to notice that the latter were going slower and slower every day.
The country was no longer monotonously flat, as it had been whilst the river swept along through the llanos. Hills now rose up to right and left; great mountains loomed up dimly against the skyline; and the low, muddy banks gave way to towering limestone cliffs, their natural whiteness hidden by the luxuriant, clinging vegetation. Shallows in the river were no longer sandy and sluggish, but rapids were the dangers to navigation. The air was cooler and fresher, the vegetation was that of drier soil and drier atmosphere, insect life was less noxious, and the labours of the way grew more endurable.
But as the perils from nature decreased, those to be apprehended from man increased. The adventurers had long passed the most southerly point of Spanish influence. Hitherto they had found docile Indians, who had learned to fear the white man and his strange weapons, and to hate one section of the white race—namely, the Spanish. The Englishmen were white, and possessed the moral power of the race over ruder peoples; they also came as foes and rivals to those who ill-treated the long-suffering native; hence they had been everywhere treated with awe, not unmixed with real affection. As far as the inhabitants of the land were concerned, their voyage had been a sort of triumphal procession.
But inhabitants of hilly or mountainous land are always hardier and less docile than their brethren of the fat plains. The Indians on the hilly fringes of the Orinoco basin were no exception to this rule. They had heard of the white man; refugees from the lower lands had spread reports of his rapacity and cruelty, and of the scorn with which he treated the poor brown man. They were resolved that he should not lay hands on them or their treasures without a struggle. And so it came to pass that one day the messengers of Captain Drake returned to him with reports of a very rough reception from a native dignitary.