Part 8 (2/2)
”I think there can only be three in each boat,” Steven said. ”In that case one man may have been made prisoner; at any rate, Wilc.o.x, we will go on and see.”
As soon as the canoes had gone round the bend of the river, they proceeded on their way. The ground presently became exceedingly swampy, and they could see by the pieces of dead wood and litter caught among the bushes, that in times of flood the river must overflow its banks and extend a long distance into the forest. From time to time they had to wade waist-deep across channels by which the water from the marsh was draining slowly into the river. Before crossing these, at Wilc.o.x's suggestion they each cut down a bush and beat the water with it.
”I expect there are no end of alligators in this swamp,” the sailor said; ”and I know that the natives, before they cross streams where the brutes are likely to be hiding, beat the water with sticks or bushes to frighten them away.”
It was hard work walking, for they often sunk knee-deep in the wet soil, but after toiling for nearly an hour they heard a confused noise ahead, and could ere long make out the beating of drums and the wild shouts of Malays, mingled with a deep roaring sound made by horns. They now went on more cautiously, and presently could make out through the trees a large native village standing upon rising ground by the side of the river.
Creeping cautiously to the edge of the bush they could see that a large number of men, women, and children were a.s.sembled in an open s.p.a.ce between the houses and the water. The women were bringing bundles of wood, and a column of smoke rising in the centre of the crowd showed that the preparation for a feast had begun.
”If we had but one of our ten-pounders loaded with grape with us,” Wilc.o.x said, ”I would pour a volley into those black devils if it cost me my life afterwards.”
”What do you think they are going to do, Wilc.o.x?”
”I reckon there ain't much doubt about it,” the sailor replied; ”they are going to make a feast of our mess-mates.”
Stephen uttered an exclamation of horror and disgust. ”Do you mean to say that they are cannibals, Wilc.o.x?”
”In course I can't say for certain, Master Steve. Some of these tribes are cannibals and some ain't, and I reckon by what I see going on that those villains are. Are you a good climber, sir?”
”Do you mean climbing a tree. I have never had much practice at that, Wilc.o.x, but I dare say I could manage it.”
”Well, sir, you are lighter and more active than I am, and I was thinking that if you could get up to the top of this tree you would have a view down over the village. The leaves are pretty thick, and as the n.i.g.g.e.rs are busy there is not much chance of their looking about for a man up a tree.
You see the village ain't above a hundred and fifty yards away, and the ground ain't more than twenty feet above the river. I should say that this tree was seventy or eighty feet high, so that from the top you can get a view pretty well over the place; if there is one of our chaps there he may be lying tied up somewhere. Of course he might be in a hut, but it is much more likely that they would have just chucked him down until they wanted him. I think if you got on my shoulder you would be able to get hold of that lowest branch where it bends down, and climb along it to the trunk; after that the branches come pretty thick together.”
”I think I could manage that easily enough.”
”Well, then, here goes,” the sailor said, and took up his post beneath where the bough was lowest. ”If you can't reach it from my shoulder, sir, you step on my head. I can hold you easy enough. You keep the trunk as far as possible between you and the village.”
”The leaves are thick up high,” Steve said, looking up at the tree; ”directly it gets above the level of these smaller trees it spreads its branches out well.”
”Now, jump upon my back, sir, and then climb upon my shoulders. You had best take hold of my hands to steady yourself.”
It was necessary, as the sailor had suggested, for Steve to stand upon his supporter's head before he could get hold of a branch sufficiently strong to bear his weight. As soon as he did so he drew himself up, and was soon climbing the main trunk. The higher he got the more convinced was he that he would not be observed by the natives, for the trees behind him formed a background, and therefore he could not be seen against the sky. He kept, however, as the sailor had told him, on the other side of the trunk, and when he had gained the smaller branches at the top of the tree he looked out through an opening in the foliage. The village seemed to lie almost at his feet, and he could see every object on the ground. It was not long before he perceived a figure lying full length in front of one of the huts, close to the spot where the people were gathered. It was certainly an European, and from the whiteness of the trousers he felt sure that it was either the mate or Joyce. He counted the number of huts, and found that the one beside which the figure was lying was the eighth in the line facing the river. There were two lines of huts with a sort of street between them. Behind the second row the rise on which the village was situated fell rapidly away and the jungle grew almost up to the back of the huts. Those in the second line stood somewhat further apart than those in the first, and he observed that the sixth house in the back line was opposite the eighth in the front. Having gathered this information he descended the tree.
”What news, sir?” the sailor asked, as Stephen dropped from the bough to his side.
”There is one of our comrades lying by the huts, Wilc.o.x. I can tell by his white ducks that it is either Mr. Towel or Joyce; whether he is alive or dead, of course I can't say. I did not see him move, but no doubt he would be tied hand and foot. I saw nothing of the others, and there would be no reason why he should be treated differently from them if he were dead.”
”You may be sure of that. Well, that is better than I had hoped. If we can save one it will be something.”
”I have been examining the ground,” Stephen went on, ”and we could work round close up to the second row of huts. We must count six of them, then go along by the side of the sixth and cross the street to the hut opposite. The prisoner is lying in front of that, I mean on the river side of it. Of course, there is no doing anything until the sun has set, except that we might work round to that hut. It will be easier to get through this horrid swamp before it gets dark than afterwards, and there will be less fear of our stumbling and breaking a branch. What time do you think it is now?”
”I don't think it is more than eight bells yet,” Wilc.o.x said. ”It is a lot of hours to wait, and I would give a good bit to be out of the swamp before it gets dark. Howsomever, if we keep along by the river coming back we can't lose our way, that is one comfort. Well, let us work round at once, and then we shall see how the land lies. It is like enough that as soon as they have got a big fire made up, and the cooking begun, they will most of them turn in for a sleep till the heat of the day is over, and begin their feast after sundown. They generally do sleep half the day, and then keep it up half the night.”
Accordingly they started through the wood, and in a quarter of an hour found themselves at the foot of the rising ground on which the village stood. They had counted the huts, and now crawled up through the thick bushes and stood within a few yards of the sixth hut. The swamp had been very deep on the way, and they had had the greatest difficulty in getting through it. Stephen had once sunk below his waist in the mud, and would have been unable to extricate himself, had not the sailor held on by a young tree with one hand while he stretched out the other to him.
”I am all right now as far as colour goes, Wilc.o.x. Now, do you stay here and I will crawl along by the side of the hut and have a look up and down the street. I did not see a soul between the row of huts when I was in the tree.”
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