On the Banks of the Amazon

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Another day was passing by. The wind had been moderate and the river smooth. Again it came on to blow, and our tree was so violently agitated that I was afraid it would be thrown over, and that we should be washed off it. As we looked round we saw the other masses with which we had kept company tossed about in the same way, and frequently moving their positions. Now we drove on before the wind faster than we had hitherto gone. There was one mass ahead which I had remarked from the first, though at a considerable distance. We were now drifting nearer to it. I had watched it for some hours, when I fancied I saw an object moving about on the upper part. “It must be another monkey,” I said to myself. I pointed it out to Duppo. He remarked that it moved too slowly for a monkey; that it was more probably a sloth. Then again it stopped moving, and I could scarcely distinguish it among the branches of the trees. I hoped that we might drift near enough to get it. It would probably afford us more substantial fare than our fish. After a time I saw Duppo eagerly watching the island. Suddenly he started up, and waved his hand. I looked as keenly as I could. Yes; it seemed to me that the figure on the island was again moving, and waving also. It was a human being; and if so, who else but Arthur? My heart bounded at the thought. Yet, how could he have escaped? How had he not before been seen by us? Again I waved, this time with a handkerchief in my hand. The figure held out a handkerchief also. There was now no doubt about the matter. It was very doubtful, however, whether we should drift much nearer the floating island. The wind increased; a drizzling rain came down and almost concealed it from sight, so that we could not tell whether or not we were continuing to approach it. This increased my anxiety. Yet the hope of seeing my friend safe, once kindled, was not to be extinguished; even should we not drive close enough to the island to join each other, we still might meet elsewhere. All we could do, therefore, was to sit quietly on the tree, and wait the course of events.

One of the most difficult things to do, I have found, is to wait patiently. Hour after hour passed by. The wind blew hard, and often so high did the waves rise that I was afraid we might be swept off. What would become of us during the long, dreary night? I felt the cold, too, more than I had done since we began our voyage. How much more must poor Duppo have suffered, with less clothing! I should have liked to have lighted a fire; but with the rain falling, and the tree tossing about, that was impracticable. We all three—Duppo, True, and I—sat crouching together in the most sheltered part of the tree. Thus the hours of darkness approached, and crept slowly on. Did I say my prayers? it may be asked. Yes, I did; I may honestly say that I never forgot to do so. I was reminded, too, to ask for protection, from feeling how little able I was, by my own unaided arm, to escape the dangers by which I was surrounded. I tried to get Duppo to join me. I thought he understood me; but yet he could scarcely have had the slightest conception of the great Being to whom I was addressing my prayers. I hoped, however, when he knew more of our language, that I should be able to impart somewhat of the truth to his hitherto uncultivated mind.

In spite of the rain, the darkness, and the movements of our tree, I at length fell asleep, and so, I believe, did Duppo and True. I was awoke, after some time, by a crashing sound, similar to that which had occurred when we drove against the floating island. I started up. True uttered a sharp bark. It awoke Duppo. Presently I heard a voice at no great distance exclaiming, “What is that? Who is there?”

“Who are you?” I shouted out.

“I am Arthur! And oh, Harry! is it you?”

“Yes,” I answered. “How thankful I am that you have escaped!”

“And so am I that you have been saved,” answered Arthur. “But where are you? I cannot find my way among the bough. Have you come off to me in the canoe?” I told him in reply how we were situated. “Can you join me?” he asked. “I have hurt my foot, and am afraid of falling.”

“Stay where you are,” I answered; “we will try to reach you.”

I made Duppo understand that I wished to get to where Arthur was. It was necessary to move very cautiously, for fear of slipping off into the water. We could not tell, indeed, whether the butt-end or the boughs of our tree had caught in the floating island; all we could see was a dark mass near us, and a few branches rising up towards the sky. I was afraid, however, that if we did not make haste we might be again separated from it as we had been from the other island. We scrambled first some way along the boughs; but as we looked down we could see the dark water below us, and I was afraid should we get on to the outer ends that they might break and let us fall into it. I thought also of True, for though we might possibly have swung ourselves across the boughs, he would have been unable to follow us. I turned back, and once more made my way towards the root-end, which, by the experience we had before had, I hoped might have driven in closer to the mass we wished to reach. We had to crawl carefully on our hands and knees, for the rain had made the trunk slippery, and we might easily have fallen off. As I got towards the end, I began to hope that it was touching the island. I again called out to Arthur. His voice sounded clearer than before. When I got to the end among the tangled mass of roots, I stopped once more to ascertain what Duppo advised we should do.

I sat some time trying to pierce the gloom. At length I thought I saw a thick bough projecting over the extreme end of our tree. If I could once catch hold of it I might swing myself on to the island. There was one fear, however, that it might give way with my weight. Still I saw no other mode