Part 3 (1/2)
I, of course, agreed to this proposal; so, stepping out from behind the tree where we had been hidden, we faced Jose, and asked him whether he had brought any message from my father. He seemed in no way astonished at seeing us, but replied that he was glad to find we had not left the island, as he had been sent expressly by my father to try and meet with us. He had been, he said, searching for us for some days; and at length catching sight of Camo, he knew that we were not likely to be far off.
My father himself, he said, was in considerable apprehension of being denounced to the Inquisition, as he had received it warning from Doctor Antonio, and had thought it prudent in consequence to hide himself.
”Will he not join us?” asked Arthur eagerly. ”He will be safer where we are than anywhere else.”
”He does not know where to find you, senors; but if you will show me your place of concealment, I will try and find him, and bring him to you.”
Arthur looked at me, on hearing this, with an expression that showed he doubted the truth of what Jose said. ”It will be better not to show any distrust,” he whispered; ”at the same time, it might be hazardous to lead Jose to our retreat.”
”What are we to do, then?” I asked.
”We will tell him to go and find your father, and conduct him to this spot: if he comes, we need no longer have any doubts about Jose's fidelity.”
I thought Arthur's idea a good one, though we should have liked to consult Uncle Paul on the subject.
Arthur asked Jose how long it would take to bring our father to the spot where we then were. He replied, ”Certainly not before noon of next day;” and we accordingly agreed to meet him at that hour.
”But will you not take me to your hiding-place?” he asked. ”I am hungry and weary, and require rest and refreshment.”
I was much disposed to do as the man requested, but I waited to hear what Arthur would say before replying.
”We regret that we cannot take you there at present,” said Arthur; ”others are concerned as well as ourselves. Do you go back and find your master, and tell him that we are well, and shall be rejoiced to see him.”
Jose looked somewhat disappointed.
”Come,” said Arthur, ”we will accompany you a part of the way. Here are two birds which we have shot; they will help to support you and Senor Dennis till you reach this to-morrow.”
Still Jose lingered, evidently wis.h.i.+ng to learn the way to our retreat; but Arthur had a determined manner about him, and Jose was at length compelled to turn back, whereupon we accompanied him.
We walked on for about half a mile through the forest, but were unwilling to go further, for fear of losing our way. At length we bade Jose goodbye, and hurried back, occasionally looking behind us to ascertain whether he was following. It was dark by the time we reached our retreat. Camo had just before come in, and, strange to say, had not seen anything of Jose. Uncle Paul approved of what we had done, but expressed his doubts as to whether Jose was honest.
”We shall know to-morrow,” he observed. ”If he is accompanied by your father, all may be right; but if not, we must take care that he does not discover our retreat. Having themselves failed to find us, the officers of the Inquisition are very likely to have bribed him; and they may possibly have let your father escape their clutches, for the sake of catching us all in one net.”
So impressed was Uncle Paul with this idea, that he proposed we should move further south, to some other safe place of concealment. Consulting Camo on the subject, the Indian replied that we could not hope to find a safer retreat than our present one, and suggested that he and his companions should be on the watch, some distance in advance of the spot to which we had told Jose to bring my father; promising that, should he be accompanied by strangers, they would immediately hasten to inform us, so that we might have time to escape.
I earnestly hoped that my father would come; for, though he might run the risk of sacrificing his property, that would be far better than having to act the part of a hypocrite, or being shut up in the dungeons of the Inquisition.
The night seemed very long; and I could scarcely go to sleep for thinking of what might happen on the morrow. At the hour appointed, Arthur and I went to the spot agreed on; Camo and the other natives having some time before set out to watch for Jose's approach. We waited anxiously; the hour for the meeting had arrived. At length we caught sight of two persons coming through the forest. My heart bounded with joy; my father was one of them, and Jose was his companion. Arthur and I hurried towards them, and were soon welcoming my father. He looked pale and ill, but expressed his thankfulness at having escaped; so we at once accompanied him to our retreat, followed by Jose.
He was, as might be expected, very much cast down, and anxious about the future; but Uncle Paul did his utmost to raise his spirits, bidding him trust in G.o.d, and reminding him that everything would be ordered for the best. Our plans for the future were then discussed, as our father was eager to get off as soon as possible. As we spoke in English, Jose could not understand what was said; but he observed everything that took place with a look which I did not like--indeed, neither Arthur nor I were yet satisfied that he was acting an honest part.
The means of obtaining provisions for the voyage next occupied our attention. Camo suggested that we should try and catch a cowfish, the flesh of which, when cut up into strips and dried in the sun, could be preserved for a considerable time, and would prove more serviceable than any other food we were likely to obtain. He offered at once to go down to the river and look out for one. Arthur, Tim, and I accompanied him and the two other natives. Tim had an axe, while we had our guns, and the natives had provided themselves with lances, to which long lines were attached. Camo took his post on the lower branch of a tree which projected over the water, while we stationed ourselves at some little distance, ready to render him a.s.sistance, if required; and we waited thus for some time, looking up and down the stream in the hope of seeing a cowfish come within reach of his lance.
The creature of which we were in search is amphibious, and suckles its young like the whale. It is frequently found in pairs with its young, browsing on the marine plants, and sometimes on sh.o.r.e in the cocoanut groves. It is properly called the ”manatee,” or seacow; measures fifteen feet in length, has two fin-like arms, is covered with hair, and often weighs twelve hundred pounds. I had never seen one, but Camo had described it to us as we were on our way to the river.
At length we caught sight of a dark object coming slowly up the stream; its head, as it approached, greatly resembling that of a cow, while its hairy body was raised considerably above the water. We knew from Camo's movements that he also had observed it. The question was whether or not it would pa.s.s near enough to him to allow him to strike it with his lance. As it drew nearer, we saw that it had a young one by its side.
Now, greatly to our disappointment, it floated off to the opposite side of the stream, and we feared that it would be lost. It suddenly turned again, however, while its young one disappeared beneath it. For some time it remained almost stationary, then, unconscious of its danger, floated directly under where Camo stood. At that instant his long lance flew from his hand, and buried itself deep in the animal's back. The other natives, who had been watching eagerly, now sprang forward and hurled their lances, fixing them firmly, one in its neck, and another towards its tail. The creature, finding itself wounded, began to plunge violently, but made no other effort to escape. It seemed, however, as if the light lances would be unable to hold it. Arthur and I on this made our way as close to the water as we could; and when we got the creature clearly in sight, Arthur fired, and sent a bullet through its head. Its struggles instantly ceased, and without much difficulty we drew it up to the only part of the bank in the neighbourhood where we could land it. It was quite dead, but even then it required our united strength to drag it on sh.o.r.e. The young one followed, and tried to climb up the bank, when Tim despatched it with a blow of his axe. It seemed a cruel deed, but necessity, in such a case, has no law, and we were thankful to have obtained such an ample supply of meat.
We at once set to work to cut up the creature, under Camo's directions, and soon had loaded ourselves with as much meat as we could carry.
Leaving one of the natives to guard the carca.s.s from the birds of prey, or any animals which might come to feed on it, we hastened back to our retreat, and then returned for a further quant.i.ty. Uncle Paul was delighted at our success; and we immediately set to work to cut the meat into thin strips, which we hung up in the sun. In the evening we cooked a portion of the young manatee for supper, and we all agreed that it tasted like the most delicate pork.
We had now a supply of meat sufficient to last us for several days; and we hoped, with the aid of some cocoanuts, yams, plantains, bananas, and other fruits, to secure an ample supply of provisions for the longest voyage we were likely to take. Our hope was that we should quickly get on board a vessel. If not, Uncle Paul proposed that we should steer for Tobago, which we might expect to reach in a couple of days. Our chief difficulty was to obtain a boat; and Uncle Paul and Arthur agreed to set out to the south in search of one. Dressed in duck trousers, and with broad-brimmed hats on their heads, they would probably be taken for English sailors, and would not be interfered with. They hoped to hire a boat without difficulty; if not, they intended to run off with one, and to send back more than her value to the owner. Under the circ.u.mstances, they considered that they would be justified in so doing; though I am very sure that we must never do what is wrong for the sake of gaining an advantage of any sort.
I may be excused, however, from discussing here the morality of their intended act. The world certainly would not have blamed them; but, as I now write in my old age, I have learned that there is a rule far above the world's laws, and that says, ”Do no wrong, or be guilty of any appearance of wrong, however important may seem the object to be gained.” But this is a digression.