Chapter Seven.
Our Disappointment, Danger, and Anxiety.
The tributary of the Amazon, down which we were proceeding, was in many places more than half a mile wide: what must be the width of the mighty river itself! This comparatively small stream was often tossed into waves, and we were thankful that we had the prospect of embarking in a larger vessel, with more experienced boatmen, for our further voyage. On either side of the river were clay banks, above which the lofty trees formed impenetrable walls; while here and there islands appeared, the soil of some raised but little above the river, while in others we could see evidences of the stream having separated them at no great distance of time from the mainland. We continued our custom of landing at night—indeed, whenever we had to put to shore—at one of these islands. They all supplied us with wood to light our fires, and poles for our huts: some were large enough to furnish game.
Thus several days passed away. We were, by our calculations, approaching the spot at which our father had led us to expect that we should find him. It may be supposed how eagerly we all looked out for the expected marks. At length the curiously-coloured bluff hill he had mentioned appeared in sight.
“There it is! there it is!” exclaimed Ellen. “I am sure it must be the spot papa speaks of.”
We surveyed it with eager eyes, and agreed that there could be no mistake about the matter. With redoubled energy we paddled on, the breeze, though light, being in our favour. And now in a short time we came in sight of the expected group of bamboos. We quickly rounded it; and there, before us, appeared the hill. We looked out for the huts on its summit, but none were visible.
“Oh! perhaps papa thought it better to build them lower down, under the shade of that group of palms,” said Ellen; and we agreed that she was probably right.
A small stream ran at the bottom of the hill, connected, probably, with one of the larger rivers we had passed. We paddled up it a short distance, hoping to find a convenient place for landing. Our hearts misgave us on finding no one come down to welcome us on shore.
“They probably do not observe us coming,” observed Ellen. “Mamma and Fanny are in the house, and papa and the servants are out shooting.”
I saw by the cheerful way she spoke she felt none of the apprehensions which John and I were experiencing. We soon found a clear spot, where the waters in the rainy season had carried away the trees and shrubs. Securing our canoe, we eagerly stepped on shore. The bank was somewhat steep; but we managed to climb up it, and, cutting our way through the intervening jungle, reached the foot of the hill. Even now I began to doubt whether, after all, this could be the spot our father spoke of. Not the slightest sound was heard, and there was no appearance of human habitations being near. True, as soon as we had got into the more open ground, went scampering along in high glee at finding himself on shore. John led the way, anxiously looking about on very side. We soon reached the top of the hill, gazing eagerly down towards the group of palm-trees Ellen had espied. No huts were to be seen.