The Young Llanero: A Story of War and Wild Life in Venezuela

by William Henry Giles Kingston

that should I allow the line to touch the water, I would feel a shock which would well-nigh knock me down.

The doctor then invited some of the men to join hands, which he and I did with several of them; then touching one of the eels with the point of his long knife, a shock passed through the whole of us, which made the natives jump and shriek out—one or two of them falling to the ground, overcome with astonishment at the unexpected sensation rather than by the force of the shock.

Hideous as the creatures are, the natives declared that they were very good for food, and a number of them were packed up and carried back to the farm.

So powerful is the electric force possessed by the eels, that several of the horses were killed immediately; and our companions assured us that the strongest man, if struck by one of them when crossing a river, would become so benumbed that he would certainly lose his life.

The doctor told me how the employment of their electric powers is spontaneous; and this exhausts the nervous energy, so that they need repose and an abundance of nourishment before a fresh accumulation of electricity is produced. These curious creatures have the power of making holes for themselves in the marshes and mud of watercourses which remain filled with moisture during the rainy season; and they are thus able to support existence in their usual localities until the return of rain, when they come forth and prey upon all living animals within their reach.

It took us several days after this to reach the camp. I was warmly greeted by my gallant chief, who heartily congratulated me on having escaped the dangers to which I had been exposed. My companions, also, had a kindly welcome.

“Though we have been inactive for some time, we shall soon have work for all of you,” he remarked, laughing: “you, Barry, to take a part in the fighting; you, señor doctor, to attend the wounded; and you, señor padre, to shrive the dying. Each man to his trade,—though, to confess the truth, I shall be very glad when our part of the business is over, and we have driven the Gothos into the sea. That, I feel confident, will be before long.”

I had received no intelligence from my family since the doctor joined me, and I was becoming very anxious to hear from them. At that time, it will be remembered, Norah was setting out to visit our relative Don Fernando; so I eagerly sought out my cousin, Don Carlos, fully expecting that he would have heard of her arrival. Greatly to my disappointment, he told me that one letter alone had reached him,—in which it was mentioned that Norah was expected, but that some time had passed since they hoped to see her, and that she had not arrived.

On talking over the matter and comparing notes, we both became greatly alarmed for her safety. I was sure, from what the doctor had told me, that she fully intended to go at the time he spoke of, and ought to have arrived before the date of this letter. Don Carlos told me that on one important account his family hoped that Norah would not have set out: the Guahibos (gained over, as they believed, by Spanish emissaries) had become more than ever threatening in their conduct. Their chief and some of the principal men, who were supposed to be friendly to the patriots, were absent, and the rest were thus left to their own devices. They were not likely to make any hostile movement without their regular leaders; but should these return and prove unable to restrain them, or be themselves gained over by the Spaniards, serious consequences, might ensue.

Had we not expected shortly to encounter the enemy, we would both have obtained leave to return home and ascertain the truth; but under the circumstances this was impossible, and we had, therefore, to restrain our impatience and hope for the best. Don Carlos became very unhappy, and a high sense of duty alone prevented him from asking permission to quit the army for a short period. We in vain endeavoured to find a trusty messenger who would convey letters to our friends and return with an answer; those we sent by the couriers—who had a circuitous route to take—might not reach their destination for a long time, and answers would be equally tardy in their transit.