On the Banks of the Amazon

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“Why, it is only full of dried leaves!” exclaimed Arthur, as we opened it.

“Stay a moment,” I answered. “I think there is something within them though.”

Unrolling the leaves, I found a small piece of paper, torn apparently from a pocket-book. On it were written a few lines. They were: “Dear Brothers,—I trust you will see this. Enemies are approaching, and our father has resolved to quit this spot and proceed down the river. We hope to send a messenger up to warn you not to land here, but I leave this in case you should miss him, and do so. Where we shall stop, I cannot say; but our father wishes, for our mother’s sake and mine, and Aunt Martha’s, not again to settle till we reach a part of the river inhabited by friendly natives. That will, I fear, not be till we get some way down the Amazon. I am warned to finish and do this up. The natives are seen in the distance coming towards us.”

This note, the first assurance we had received that our family had escaped, greatly raised our spirits. We had now only to make the best of our way back to John and Ellen with the satisfactory intelligence. We accordingly hurried back to the canoe, and began our downward voyage. We had gone some distance when we saw a small opening in the river, where, on the shore, two or three canoes were hauled up. They might belong to friendly natives, from whom we might obtain some fish or other fresh provisions, of which we were somewhat in want. We were about to paddle in, when we caught sight of several fierce-looking men with bows in their hands, rushing down towards the bank. Their appearance and gestures were so hostile that we immediately turned the head of our canoe down the stream again, and paddled away as fast as we could. We had not, however, got far, when, looking back, we saw that they had entered one of the larger canoes, and were shoring off, apparently to pursue us. We did our best to make way, in the hope of keeping ahead of them. I should have said the weather at this time had been somewhat changeable. Clouds had been gathering in the sky, and there was every sign of a storm. As I have already described two we encountered, I need not enter into the particulars of the one which now broke over us. Under other circumstances we should have been glad to land to escape its fury, but as it was, we were compelled to paddle on as fast as we could go. On looking back, we saw that the Indians were actually pursuing us. “Never fear,” cried Arthur. “We shall be able to keep ahead of them!” The lightning flashed vividly, the rain came down in torrents, but through the thick wall of water we could still see our enemies coming rapidly after us. Although the current, had we stood out into the middle of the stream, might have carried us faster, the shortest route was by keeping near the bank. The Indians followed the same course. True rushed to the stern, and stood up barking defiance at them, as he saw them drawing nearer. I dreaded lest they should begin to shoot with their poisoned arrows. Should they get near enough for those fearful weapons to reach us, our fate would be sealed. Only for an instant could we afford time to glance over our shoulders at our foes. Nearer and nearer they drew. Duppo courageously kept his post, steering the canoe, and paddling with all his might. Every moment I expected to see them start up and let fly a shower of arrows at us. I might, of course, have fired at them; but this would have delayed us, and probably not have stopped them. Our only hope of escape therefore depended upon our being able to distance them. Yet they were evidently coming up with us. We strained every nerve; but, try as we might, we could not drive our little canoe faster than we were going.

My heart sank within me when, looking back once more, I saw how near they were. In a few minutes more we might expect to have a shower of arrows whizzing by us, and then we knew too well that, though we might receive comparatively slight wounds, the deadly poison in them would soon have effect. This did not make us slacken our exertions, though scarcely any hope of escape remained. Still we knew that something unforeseen might intervene for our preservation. I do hold, and always have held, that it is the duty of a man to struggle to the last. “Never say die!” is a capital motto in a good cause.

The rain poured down in torrents, the lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and gusts of wind swept down the river. We were, however, greatly protected by the bank above us. The storm blew more furiously. We could see overhead branches torn from the trees and carried into the stream. Still the Indians, with unaccountable pertinacity, followed us. We scarcely now dared look behind us, as all our energies were required to keep ahead; yet once more I turned round. Several of our pursuers were standing up and drawing their bows. The arrows flew by us. “Oh, I am hit!” cried Arthur. “But I wish I had not said that. Paddle on! paddle on! I may still have strength to go on for some time.” Now, indeed, I felt ready to give way to despair; still, encouraged by Arthur, I persevered. For a moment only he ceased paddling. It was to pull the arrow from the wound in his shoulder; then again he worked away as if nothing had occurred. The next flight of arrows, I knew, might be fatal to all of us. I could not resist glancing round. Once more the Indians were drawing their bows; but at that instant a fearful rumbling noise was heard, followed by a terrific crashing sound. The trees above our heads bent forward. “Paddle out into the middle of the stream!” cried Arthur. Duppo seemed to have understood him, and turned the canoe’s head away from the shore. The whole cliff above us was giving way. Down it came, crash succeeding crash, the water lashed into foam. The spot where the canoe of our savage pursuers had last been seen was now one mass of falling cliff and tangled forest. Trees were ahead of us, trees on every side. The next instant I found myself clinging to the branch of a tree. True had leaped up to my ride. Duppo was close to me grasping the tree with one hand, while he held my gun above his head in the other. I took it from him and placed it in a cleft of the trunk. Without my aid he quickly climbed up out of the water. The canoe had disappeared, and where was Arthur? The masses of foam, the thick, down-pouring rain, the leaves and dust whirled by the wind round us, concealed everything from our sight.

“Arthur!—Arthur!—where are you?” I cried out. There was no answer. Again I shouted at the top of my voice, “Arthur!—Arthur!” The tree, detached from the bank, now floated down the stream. I could only hope that it would not turn over in the eddying waters. Still the loud crashing sounds of the falling cliff continued, as each huge mass came sliding down into the river. The current, increased in rapidity by the rain, which had probably been falling much heavier higher up the stream, bore us onward. Oh, what would I have given to know that my friend had escaped! I could scarcely feel as thankful as I ought to have done for my own preservation, when I thought that he had been lost.

The whole river seemed filled with uprooted trees; in some places bound together by the sipos, they formed vast masses—complete islands. On several we could see creatures moving about. Here and there several terrified monkeys, which had taken shelter from the storm in a hollow trunk, were now running about, looking out in vain for some means of reaching the shore. Ahead of us we distinguished some large animal on a floating mass, but whether jaguar, puma, or tapir, at that distance I could not make out. No trace of the Indians or their canoe could we discover. It was evident that they had been entirely overwhelmed; indeed, as far as we could judge, the landslip had commenced close to the spot where we had last seen them, and they could not have had the warning which we received before the cliff was upon them. Not for a moment, however, notwithstanding all the terrifying circumstances surrounding me, were my thoughts taken off Arthur. Wounded as he had been by the poisoned dart, I feared that, even had he not been struck by the bough of a falling tree, he would have sunk through weakness produced by the poison. It made me very sad. Duppo was trying to comfort me, but what he said I could not understand. Our own position was indeed dangerous in the extreme. Any moment the tree might roll over, as we saw others doing round us: we might be unable to regain a position on the upper part. Should we escape that danger, and be driven on the bank inhabited by the hostile Majeronas, they would very probably put us to death. I had, however, providentially my ammunition-belt round my waist, and my gun had been preserved; I might, therefore, fight for life, and if we escaped, kill some animals for our support. Should we not reach the land, and once enter the main river, we might be carried down for hundreds of miles, day after day, and, unable to procure any food, be starved to death. Ellen and John would be very anxious at our non-appearance. These and many similar thoughts crossed my mind. I fancied that had Arthur been with me I should have felt very differently, but his loss made my spirits sink, and I could hardly keep up the courage which I had always wished to maintain under difficulties. Duppo’s calmness put me to shame. True looked up in my face, and endeavoured to comfort me by licking my hand, and showing other marks of affection. Poor fellow! if we were likely to starve, so was he; but then he did not know that, and was better able to endure hunger than either Duppo or me.

The rain continued pouring down, hiding all objects, except in the immediate vicinity, from our view. I judged, however, that the falling cliff had sent us some distance from the shore into the more rapid part of the current. Providentially it was so, for we could still see the indistinct forms of the trees come sliding down, while the constant loud crashes told us that the destruction of the banks had not yet ceased. Thus we floated on till darkness came down upon us, adding to the horror of our position. The rain had by that time stopped. The thunder no longer roared, and the lightning ceased flashing. The storm was over, but I feared, from the time of the year, that we might soon be visited by another. We had climbed up into a broad part of the trunk, where, among the projecting branches, we could sit or lie down securely without danger of falling off. My chief fear arose from what I have already mentioned,—the possibility of the tree turning over. This made me unwilling either to secure myself to the branches, or indeed even to venture to go to sleep.

Hour after hour slowly passed by. Had Arthur been saved, I could have kept up my spirits; but every now and then, when the recollection of his loss came across me, I could not help bursting into tears. Poor, dear fellow! I had scarcely thought how much I had cared for him. Duppo spoke but little; indeed, finding himself tolerably secure, he probably thought little of the future. He expected, I dare say, to get on shore somewhere or other, and it mattered little to him where that was. True coiled himself up by my side, continuing his efforts to comfort me. In spite of my unwillingness to go to sleep, I found myself frequently dropping off; and at last, in spite of my dread of what might occur, my eyes remained closed, and my senses wandered away into the land of dreams. Duppo also went to sleep, and, I suspect, so did True.