Jungle Chums by A. Hyatt Verrill. Digitized by Doug Frizzle, April 2012.
For other chapters see...Here...under Fiction category.
Jungle Chums
Chapter I Off
to South America
"I've
just been down to see Frank
off to Cuba,"
announced Eric Marvin, as he entered his father's
office one dreary December afternoon. "Whew! but it's cold down on the waterfront," he continued, and he threw off
his overcoat. "Perhaps I didn't wish I were going along too. Just think of
wearing warmer clothes and going
swimming and fishing in the warm
sunshine within a week."
"Well, I can't blame you
very much, I admit," agreed his father.
"How would you like a trip to the
tropics for a Christmas present?" he asked.
"Hurrah! Do you really
mean it?" cried Eric, and without waiting for an answer exclaimed,
"When are you going? How long will we be gone? Where will we go? Do tell
me all about it?”
"One thing at a time, my
boy," said his father, laughing.
"I am planning to go to British Guiana
and shall try to get off next week. I have no idea how long we may be away, for
I'm going on business. Mr. Perkins, the
president of the Ratura Land &
Development Company, has asked me to go down and look over their property. They own large tracts of land in British Guiana and instead of paying good dividends the property threatens to place the company in bankruptcy. The directors feel that there is something wrong, and as I am more or less
interested and have had experience in the
tropics they have selected me to go
down and make an investigation and if possible put the
place on a paying basis."
"British Guiana,—why,
that's clear down in South America!"
exclaimed Eric.
"Yes, the northeastern
tip of the continent."
"That's ever so much
better than Cuba,"
declared the elated boy. "There
must be jungles and wild animals and savages and all sorts of exciting things there. Will I have a chance to do any hunting?"
"Undoubtedly,"
replied his father. "The Ratura
lands are a long distance from the
coast and the settlements and, in
fact, extend far into the virgin forest
or 'bush,' as it's called down there.
A very large river flows past the
property, and if one followed up this stream it would lead one into the very heart of the
vast South American wilderness. You'll find plenty of hunting and fishing, but
I can't promise the savages. I
expect the natives are pretty well
civilized by now. However, there'll
be many things to interest you."
To Eric the forthcoming trip to South America was the event of his life, for he had never visited a
foreign land, although much of his seventeen years had been spent out of doors,
hunting, camping and tramping with his father
in the woods and mountains of northern New England.
But he had always longed to visit the
tropics; to see the rank jungles and
stupendous forests of which he had read, to navigate the
great, mysterious rivers of the southern continent and to watch the
strange and brilliant birds, and hunt the
big game of South America. Now that his dream
was about to be realized he devoted all his evenings to studying geographies and
natural histories and to reading books on northern
South America, while the days were
fully occupied in preparation for the
journey. At last all was ready, and on a raw, gray day Eric and his father stood upon the
deck of the Maraval and
watched the towering buildings of Manhattan as they faded from view in the
smoke and haze of the western sky.
To Eric the voyage was full of interest and excitement, and the days passed rapidly. For hours at a time he
watched the flying fishes which
skittered across the waves like
"toy hydroplanes," as he expressed it. He saw the
broad patches of floating Sargassum which marked the
edges of the fabulous Sargossa Sea;
he chatted with the other passengers and learned much of the country to which he was going; he made friends
with officers and crew and even tried his hand at "shooting the sun" under the
guidance of the jovial skipper.
On the
fifth day the tiny barren island of Sombrero
was passed, and the Maraval entered
the Caribbean Sea, with low-lying
St. Martin's on the eastern horizon
and the great isolated cones of Saba
and St. Eustatius ahead. They were the first West Indian islands Eric had ever seen and
he gazed at them with the most intense interest as the
ship approached the mighty volcanoes
rising abruptly from the sea.
"They are both
Dutch," his father told him,
and added, "You should not judge the
tropics by the appearance of these two islands. They are small and rather barren, but are wonderfully interesting, nevertheless."
"I'm glad you told
me," said Eric; "I was just going to say I didn't think much of their beauty. What's interesting about them?"
"Their interests are
very distinct," replied Mr. Marvin. "St. Eustatius, or 'Statia,' as
it's usually called, is famous as the
first spot where the Stars and
Stripes were saluted by the guns of
a foreign power, while in Saba the
people dwell in a crater and build boats a thousand feet above the sea."
"That's the funniest thing I ever heard," declared
Eric, "but I don't see anything that looks like houses."
"You'll see a few
peeping from the foliage in the center of the
island when we're a bit closer," remarked the
captain, who had approached, "but the
main settlement's out of sight in a deep valley,—the
old crater your father
mentioned."
"I'd like to stop and
see that place," said Eric, who was watching the
shore intently through his glasses. "How do the
people ever get up to their town,
and how do they get their boats to the
sea?"
"If you want to stop there you'll have to go to St. Kitts and take a
sloop," replied the captain.
"Steamers don't ever
touch at Saba. Place has no harbor and no
anchorage,—just a bit of shingly beach. Folks get up to the
village—which, by the way, is called
'Bottom'—by a flight of stone steps, eight hundred of them.
But if you want to know all about the
place go down and talk with the
second mate, he's a Saba man."
Eric lost no time in finding the second officer, and from him learned a great
deal about the strange island where
people dwell in a crater and whose men are nearly all sailors.
Soon after Saba was left
astern the ship passed along the leeward shore of St. Kitts,
and Eric was loud in his expressions of admiration for the
lofty, forest-clad mountains, the
brilliant greens of the hillsides
and valleys and the golden cane
fields. Then Nevis, the birthplace
of Alexander Hamilton, and the spot
where Lord Nelson was married, was passed, and only the
faint, cloud-like outlines of distant Montserrat and the
filmy haze that marked Guadeloupe broke the
blue rim of the sea.
The next morning Eric came on
deck to find the Maraval approaching
the island
of Grenada and an hour later anchor
was dropped in the perfect crater harbor of St. Georges, with its toy-like
red-roofed houses and encircling hills of richest green.
After seven days of sea Eric
and his father were glad indeed to
stretch their legs on shore, and
spent several hours strolling about the
town and its neighborhood. The town was built on a steep hillside and many of the streets were carried up the
slope in the form of stairways,
while in one spot a tunnel had been drilled through the
hill to form a highway. From the
ancient forts above the town a
splendid view of the harbor and its
surroundings was obtained and the
stay ashore was completed by a drive into the
country to the Gran Etang.
To Eric everything was
strange, wonderful and new. The groves of bronze-green cacao trees, with their odd red, yellow and purple pods hanging on the trunks and branches, attracted his attention,
and his father had the coachman drive to the
sheds where they watched the process of fermenting and drying the cacao beans.
The lofty, feathery, giant bamboo trees along the country road fascinated the
boy; the wealth and luxuriance of the tropical foliage seemed marvelous to his northern eyes, and the
immense, stately royal palms were a constant delight.
"I can hardly believe
it's still cold, wintry weather in New York," Eric
declared. "Why, only a week ago we were shivering in our overcoats, with
slush up to our ankles in the
streets, and here we're driving about in flannels with palms waving overhead
and flowers in full bloom everywhere. It all seems like a dream."
His father
laughed. "That's the way it
seemed to me the first time,"
he said. "But after you've been here a while it will seem just as strange
to go north and find no palms and the
trees bare and leafless."
They had now reached the Gran Etang, a beautiful, silvery lake nestling
in the very heart of the forest-covered mountains, and lunch was taken at
the rest house. Here, for the first time, Eric had a chance to see a real
tropical forest, and, after the meal
was over, a walk was taken into the
woods.
"My, but they're wonderful," exclaimed Eric, as he
stopped and stared about at the
enormous trunks soaring upwards for hundreds of feet. "Just see all the hanging vines and parasitic plants. It's like a
gigantic spider's web or the rigging
of a ship. I never dreamed trees could grow so huge. Why, not a single book I
read gave any idea of what it's really like. Are the
South American forests as grand as these?"
Mr. Marvin smiled at his
son's enthusiasm. "These are nothing compared to the
virgin 'bush' of the
continent," he replied. "Some of the
other islands have forests far
thicker and trees larger than Grenada,
but none of them can compare with the primeval forest of South America."
"If I read it in a book
I wouldn't believe it," declared Eric, "but if you say it's so, it
must be; although I can't imagine how it's possible. Isn't there any game here?" he asked presently.
"I haven't seen a living thing or heard a sound, except a few birds."
"There's not much game
on Grenada,"
replied his father. "A few wild
monkeys and armadillos, some semi-wild hogs and doves, pigeons and parrots are
about all. But don't expect to find wild animals abundant in the forests, even on the
continent, Eric. The pictures in geographies are very misleading. One may
sometimes walk for hours without seeing a living creature larger than a dove or
a squirrel or an occasional monkey. Game may be very abundant, but the forests are so vast and so thick that one must
know the haunts of the creatures and must hunt diligently to find the game."
A row upon the lake, which, Mr. Marvin explained, occupied an
ancient crater, completed the
outing, and a few hours later the
two travelers were again aboard ship and the
green mountain slopes of Grenada
were blue and hazy in the distance.
The next morning Eric found the deep blue water of the
Caribbean had changed to dull, brownish-green,
while directly ahead lofty mountains stretched as far as eye could see to east
and west.
"We're in the water of the
Orinoco," said the
captain, in reply to the boy's
question. "The mud it brings down colors the
water for forty or fifty miles out to sea."
"Then that must be South America ahead,'' exclaimed Eric.
"Sure as you live,"
laughed the captain, "those
mountains to the west are in Venezuela; those dead ahead are the islands between the
'Bocas,' and those to the east are
on Trinidad."
Rapidly the ship approached the
land and presently Eric could distinguish the
Bocas,—narrow waterways leading between wooded, mountainous islets, and
seemingly scarce wide enough for the
ship to pass through. Entering the
nearest opening the Maraval steamed
slowly ahead between the towering
cliffs and wooded heights on either
hand and a few moments later floated upon the
tranquil waters of the Gulf of Paria.
To the
left Trinidad reared its green-clad mountains
to the clouds, while to the right the
distant Sierras of the continent
loomed above the horizon.
"I should never know
that was an island," declared Eric, as he stood by his father's side and watched the
charming panorama of Trinidad's mountains,
valleys and sandy beaches. "It looks like the
mainland," he continued. "But on the
map it seems a mighty small place."
"Maps are deceptive
things," replied Mr. Marvin. "Trinidad
is a large island, and stretches for over fifty miles north and south.
Moreover, it's really a bit of the
continent and is only separated from the
mainland by the Bocas, through which
we have just passed, and similar narrow channels at the
southern end of the gulf. In geology, fauna and flora, it's almost
identical with South America."
The ship was now approaching the harbor of Port
of Spain and in a few moments dropped anchor a couple
of miles off the pretty town. Port of Spain seemed quite a metropolis after Grenada, and
Eric was greatly interested in the
many vessels which filled the
roadstead and lined the waterfront.
When a little later he stepped ashore from the
launch, which carried the passengers
from the ship, he was still more
surprised, for the streets were
thronged with people; trolley cars, automobiles and motor trucks were
everywhere; splendid buildings and stores lined the
thoroughfares, and every one seemed busy, industrious and prosperous.
"Why, this is a real city,"
exclaimed the boy, as he and his father passed under the
splendid trees of Marine Square
and entered Frederick Street.
"One of the busiest and most prosperous ports in the West Indies,"
said Mr. Marvin. "And one of the
best built also," he added. "See, there's
something will interest you, Eric." He pointed to a little group of people
across the street.
"Why, they look just like pictures of India,"
cried the boy. "Aren't they picturesque and foreign looking?"
His father
laughed. "No wonder they look like
India," he replied,
"for they're from India,—
coolies, as they're called
here,—East Indians brought over as indentured laborers. You'll see many of them here, but far more of them
in Georgetown, over in British
Guiana."
Everywhere about the town Eric found much of interest. The
bright-colored buildings, the
smooth, wide, straight asphalt streets, the
strange people of every shade and color, the
beautiful parks and the magnificent
public buildings all attracted him. Then, when a short trolley ride carried them to the
Savanna, the boy's enthusiasm knew
no bounds. The immense green-swarded park, surrounded by a splendid driveway
and bordered by magnificent residences, the
great Queen's Park Hotel, and the
palatial Government House all fascinated him, and he vowed it the most beautiful spot he had ever seen.
The next day a trip was made
to the wonderful Pitch Lake,
from which the asphalt for the world's highways is obtained; another excursion was made to the
oil wells, and trips were taken to the
superb cataracts and to the famous Blue Basin.
The four days at Trinidad
passed quickly, indeed, and, when the
ship once more steamed northward across the
gulf and passed again through the
narrow Bocas to the open sea, Eric
felt that he had not seen half enough of the
wonderful island they were leaving.
Fourteen days after leaving New York he stood upon the forward deck and, filled with anticipation,
gazed through his glasses at the
low-lying coast, which bordered the
great muddy river up which the ship
was steaming.
"It doesn't look a bit
like South America," he remarked to a passenger who stood near; "I
don't see any forests or mountains; it looks more like the
Jersey coast than anything else."
The passenger, an American
gold miner from Paramaribo,
laughed. "Don't you fret, son," he said, "you'll find bush
a-plenty,—just step out of the city
and you're in the bush. Of course,
you can't see it from here,—coast's all low and swampy, and, for nigh a hundred
miles back, land's as flat as this deck. You'll find Ratura's wild enough to
suit you, I'll wager,—right in the
heart of the bush."
"Hurrah! Then I'll have
a chance to do some hunting," exclaimed Eric.
"Righto," the miner assured him. "There's game a-plenty.
Only trouble is to find it. The bush here's mighty thick,—have to chop a path
wherever you go,—and game naturally lights out o' the
way when a chap makes a lot of racket. It's not so hard to kill the birds and now and then
an agouti or a deer, but if you want to shoot big game, like tapir, jaguar,
peccaries and such things, you'll have to get a Buckman or a Bushnigger hunter
to go along with you."
"What in the world are Buckmen and Bushniggers?" asked
Eric, puzzled. "It's all Greek to me."
"I keep forgetting
you're a stranger and don't know Creole," replied the
other. "Buckmen are
Indians,—native redskins,—and we call 'em Bucks or Buckmen so's not to get 'em
mixed with the chaps from India,—the coolies or Hindus, you know. We call the women or squaws, 'Buckeens.' Bushniggers are a
queer lot,—sort of wild niggers that live in the
bush, or leastways along the big
rivers. They're descended from runaway slaves and a heap wilder than the Bucks nowadays. Good-hearted chaps, though, even
if they do run 'round naked and are
a pack o' heathens. You'll meet up
with plenty o' Bucks, but you won't run across any Bush niggers in Demerara,
but over in Surinam,— Dutch Guiana, that is,—there's
heaps of 'em."
"Do the Indians,—the
Bucks, I mean,—speak English?" asked Eric.
"Well, I can't say you'd
call it King's English," laughed the
other. "You'll have a bit of
trouble understanding their
talky-talky at first,—sounds like dime novel 'Injun' talk,—but you'll soon get
used to it. The Bushniggers speak another
sort o' lingo altogether,—mixture of
English, Dutch, African and French,—regular language o' their
own. But, look here, son, yonder's the
town. What do you think of it?"
Eric had been so interested
in talking with his new friend that he had not noticed that the ship was close to the
docks. All he could see were great warehouses, a few roofs and towers above them, a palm tree here and there,
and numerous steamers and sailing craft moored to the
docks and wharves.
"I don't think much of
its looks," he admitted. "But there
seems to be a great deal of shipping for such a little place."
"You can't see any more
of Georgetown
from the water than you can of the bush," the
miner informed him. "City's below sea level,—or, rather,
river level,—and out of sight beyond the
docks and warehouses. You'll find it a right smart bit of a city as soon as you
hop ashore, and right up to date. Trolley cars, railroads, automobiles and
everything else."
"How do the people keep the
water out if the city's below the level of the
river?" inquired Eric, as the
big ship was being warped alongside the
dock.
"You'll see canals in
most of the streets and out in the country," the
miner answered. "Every time the
tide runs out they open the sluice gates and drain the
water off and before the tide turns they shut the
gates up again and keep the water
out. It's just like Holland
for that,—you see, it used to be Dutch, and I reckon the
Dutchmen couldn't feel a mite at home unless they
lived below sea level. Yonder’s the
sea wall,—favorite place for promenadin’ in the
evening,—band plays there, and all that
sort of thing."
The steamer was now made fast
to the wharf, the
gangway was up and porters were busy carrying luggage ashore. Presently Mr.
Marvin appeared, followed by a colored boy with the
hand bags.
"I've just been learning
all about the bush and 'Bucks' and
'Bushniggers,''' exclaimed Eric, as his father approached. "This gentleman's been telling
me about everything. Do let me introduce you to my father,
Mr.—"
"Teach," supplied the miner, "Frank Teach. Glad to know you, Mr.
Marvin. Hope you'll have a fine time down here and find everything shipshape. If
you happen to be over Surinam
way, look me up,—every one there
knows me. Pleased to be of any service to you when I can."
Thanking him for his offer,
and assuring him that they would
certainly look him up if they visited
Dutch Guiana, Mr. Marvin and Eric bade Mr. Touch good-by, and a moment later
Eric set foot for the first time on South America.
Chapter II In Guiana’s
Capital
Mr.
Marvin had much to attend to
before leaving for Ratura, and for several days Eric was left to himself while
his father was busy with agents,
solicitors, merchants and others,
and with papers and accounts. But time did not hang heavily on the boy's hands. He found Georgetown a fascinating city, with an
interesting, motley population, and he never tired of watching the picturesque Hindus that swarmed everywhere and
gave an Oriental touch to the
cosmopolitan South American town.
At one spot he found a
mosque, with domes and minarets gleaming among the
palms, and somewhat timidly entered the
grounds. A venerable, white-bearded descendant of Mohammed greeted him and in
broken English invited him to enter the
dim interior of the Moslem church.
Somewhere Eric had read that those entering a mosque must remove their shoes, and slipping off his, he followed the priest and was shown the
Koran resting in its niche.
When he finally parted from
his ancient Mohammedan friend he felt as if he had made a visit to India itself.
Much time was profitably
spent in the great Botanic Station,
for here Eric found every useful and ornamental tree and plant of the tropics, and by the
aid of a courteous assistant learned a great deal about the
cultivation and preparation of tropical products. He saw the
laborers gathering cocoa, watched them opening the
pods and extracting the beans, and
was shown the great trays on which the cocoa was drying in the
sun. He also learned to distinguish many of the
hardwood, cabinet and dye-wood trees by sight, and he marveled at the gigantic leaves and flowers of the Victoria Regia lilies which filled the ditches and canals; but of all things, that
which interested him the most was
obtaining rubber from the rubber
trees.
Finding him interested, his
guide explained the entire process
at length, and even allowed Eric to try his hand at tapping the trees and gathering
the milky juice which was afterwards
congealed to form rubber.
"It's just like gathering maple sap," exclaimed the delighted boy. "I wonder if there are any rubber trees at Ratura."
“I believe there are,'' replied the
attendant. “At least, a grove was started when the
plantation was established, but I cannot say what success they have had."
"Well, if I owned an
estate here, I'd go in for rubber," Eric declared. It seems the easiest of crops to gather,
and from what you say, there must be
lots of money in it."
"It's been far too
greatly neglected," replied the
other. "A few planters have
gone in for it and are reaping good profits, but I should advise every one who
has suitable land to raise rubber trees. Of course, there
is a great deal of care necessary, and it requires several years for the trees to attain sufficient growth to tap, but
once they are producing they are a constant source of revenue."
"I'm mighty glad I've
learned about it," said Eric. "If there
are any trees on our place I'm going to ask father
to let me look after them. Can you
tell me of any other things which
might bring good profits from the
Ratura plantation? That is,'' he continued, "things which bring quick
returns. You see, the company's been
losing money, and father's come down
to try and put it on a paying basis, and I'm sure you can help us a great deal
with your knowledge."
"There's no reason why Ratura
should not be paying well," replied the
other. "I expect mismanagement
or dishonesty is at the bottom of
your troubles. If your father wishes
to turn the resources of the place into ready cash quickly I should advise
getting out wood and timber. There's a large demand for crabwood, purpleheart,
green-heart and other woods just now
for rifle stocks, gun carriages and other
purposes, and I have no doubt there
is enough of such material on Ratura to pay off all indebtedness and leave a
handsome profit in addition. Then, there's
rice. A few plantations here are doing very well with rice, but the demand is still greater than the supply, for our large East Indian population
consumes a vast amount of the grain.
If you wish, I'll show you our experimental rice plot, and you may obtain some
useful information regarding rice cultivation. But, of course, rice is quite
out of the question at Ratura."
"That's awfully kind of
you," declared Eric. "I'm anxious to help all I can, and all I learn
will be of use. I'll tell father all
you've told me."
They were now approaching a
swampy, lotus-filled lagoon, and suddenly some huge creature rose in the midst of the
pond, uttered a tremendous bellow, and disappeared with a great splash.
"What in the world was that?" cried Eric, with an
exclamation of surprise.
"Only a manatee,"
replied his friend. "There are many of them
here."
"Do you mean they are really wild?" asked Eric.
'' Certainly they are,'' the
man assured him. '' We never disturb them;
but we do kill off the crocodiles or
alligators now and then."
"Do you have those here,
too?" exclaimed Eric, in surprise.
"Yes, plenty, and to
spare."
"And look at those
herons and egrets," exclaimed the
boy, as they came in sight of a pond
near the path. "Why, you have a
real zoological garden here."
"It's better than a
zoological park," declared the
attendant, "for all our specimens are wild, and are free to go and come as
they please. There are parrots in the trees,—see, there's
a flock now! Water fowl of many kinds live in the
canals and ponds, and the shrubbery
is full of birds,—even monkeys visit us occasionally. But it's the same way all about Demerara; if you drive
outside the city anywhere you'll see
rare and beautiful birds along the
roadsides and quite tame, for we protect them
by strict laws here."
"Well, if birds and
animals are so abundant right here in the
city, it must be a perfect paradise for them
up at Ratura," said Eric.
"Few places are richer
in wild life," declared the other, "but if you are interested in such
matters you should visit our museum. You'll find an excellent collection there."
"I certainly
shall," declared Eric. "I'll spend a whole day there."
When at last he was compelled
to leave the gardens, Eric had
obtained a vast amount of useful knowledge, and felt that he could really be of
use in helping his father on the plantation.
Mr. Marvin listened with
interest to his son's account of what he had seen and learned during the day.
"I'm very glad to know
you've been putting in your time that way," he assured Eric. "I had
intended visiting the station to
obtain such information, but you've saved me the
time and trouble, and we'll be able to start for the
plantation all the sooner. I expect
to finish my business in town tomorrow, and we'll leave the
next morning. From what I have discovered already, I am convinced that
downright dishonesty is at the
bottom of our troubles. It's a difficult matter to prove it, and if I discharge
the present manager, it may be hard
to secure another to take his place.
Moreover, I've been warned that he's a dangerous man,—utterly unprincipled,—and
that if I make an enemy of him he'll no doubt try to obtain revenge in some
way. However, I've firmly made up my mind to discharge him as soon as I arrive
at the plantation. For these reasons I'm anxious to reach Ratura as soon as
possible, for, if Leggett hears we are coming, he may suspect my purpose and do
some damage and leave before we arrive."
The next day Eric spent in the museum, and by studying the
hundreds of specimens of birds and animals, learned far more of the denizens of Guiana's
forests than could ever have been acquired from books.
"We're off at daylight
to-morrow," his father
announced that evening.
"Thanks to your visit to
the station, I've placed a large
order for timber, but the finances
were in such bad shape that I've been compelled to negotiate a large note to
provide ample funds for immediate needs. It was somewhat difficult, for Ratura
has earned a reputation losing proposition, but I found one man who still had
faith in it, especially in view of the
timber contract. He's an old Dutchman named Van Pelt, who lives in Paramaribo; and I think I
was most fortunate in finding him, for, in case returns for the timber are delayed, he is quite willing to
extend the note."
"Well, I'm ever so glad
I helped some," declared Eric. "And I'm sure that with a little
experience I'll be able to do a great deal about the
place. But it's too bad that you had to give the
note."
"In a way, yes,"
agreed his father, "but it
enabled me to pay off all the little
claims, and it's better to have one large creditor than a number of small ones,
many of whom were clamoring for their
money. At any rate, I'm quite sure Ratura has resources sufficient to place it
on a paying basis if properly handled, but we can tell better after we see the place. Now, off to bed, Eric, for you've a long
day's trip ahead of you to-morrow."
Little did father or son dream of the
dangers or adventures which were in store for them
or of the important part the Dutchman's note would play in their lives.
Chapter III A Surprising Reception
Eric had studied every available source of
information regarding British Guiana, but
nothing he had read conveyed a true idea of the
country. He knew that on the maps
were countless rivers bearing strange Indian names, but not until he sailed
across the mouths of the rivers on his way to Ratura did he realize what
mighty streams they were. As
Georgetown became a mere blurr of haze astern, and nothing could be seen but the vast waste of muddy waters with the low line of gray-green shores upon the horizon, he could scarce believe he was not upon
the ocean.
"I'd never dream this
was a river," he remarked. "It must be miles and miles from shore to
shore."
"It's nearly thirty-five
miles wide here," replied his father,
"and the shores are so low that
they appear even more distant than they are in reality. The Demerara and Essequibo Rivers join to form this estuary,—a sort
of overflowed delta, so to speak, but they
are both very large and are navigable for many miles. In fact, ocean-going
steamships and great sailing vessels go up the
Demerara River for over sixty miles to load
greenheart timber."
Soon the
distant shores became more distinct, and in a few hours the
steamer entered the Essequibo and headed upstream.
Eric was delighted with all
he saw, and, while the opposite
shores were still dim in the
distance, he had splendid views of the
great forest-clad islands in the
river, and the densely wooded nearer
bank.
"That's Dauntless Island yonder," said the captain, pointing to a large island, several
miles in length, and rich with greenery, "perhaps you'd be interested to
know it's built on a wreck."
"That certainly sounds
wonderful," declared Eric, "but I don't see how any island can be
built on a wreck. Do tell me about it."
"It does sound a bit
queer," admitted the captain,
"but it's really very simple. You see, the
river here is full of mud and sand,—that's what makes it so brown,—and just as
soon as anything stops the current the sand has a chance to settle down and form a bar.
About forty years ago a schooner named the
Dauntless was wrecked over yonder, and pretty soon the sand commenced piling up about her and formed a
bar pointing upstream. Then mangrove seeds lodged on the
bar and took root and they made more
of an obstruction and caused more sand to pile up. Then the
mucka-muckas—those big lily-like plants you see along the
shore here—began to sprout up, and, protected by these
and the mangroves, the island commenced to grow, until to-day there's a good-sized piece of dry land and big
trees, all due to a little coasting schooner getting wrecked."
"I think that's simply marvelous,"
declared Eric. "Were all these
islands formed in the same
way?"
"I can't say about that,"
laughed the captain, "but I
expect they all began in a small way
and were started by something or another
getting lodged in the stream. As you
go farther up you'll see plenty of
good-sized bars caused by timbers or branches of trees."
The boat was now running
close to the shore, and Eric turned
his attention to the herons, egrets
and strange water fowl which rose flapping from their
retreats in the shallow water.
Presently he caught sight of a patch of brilliant red upon a black, muddy bank
which greatly puzzled him. He was about to ask the
captain in regard to it when suddenly the
brilliant color sprang into life and rose in air,—a marvelous cloud of scarlet
which glowed against the dark green
background of the mangroves like a
mass of living flame. At the sight
Eric uttered an involuntary shout of wonder and admiration, for he realized he
was gazing at a huge flock of the
rare and beautiful Scarlet Ibis.
At his exclamation the captain turned and glanced shoreward.
'' Oh, it's the Curri-curries,'' he remarked. '' They do look
pretty, don't they?"
"Why, you don't seem a
bit surprised," cried Eric. "I never expected to see such a wonderful
sight."
"Surprised?" exclaimed
the captain, in a puzzled tone.
"What's surprising about them?
They're always about, up and down the
rivers, nobody pays any attention to Curri-curries."
Presently the vessel slowed down and drew alongside a tiny
dock or "stelling," and Eric watched with interest the motley crowd of Hindus and negroes, who crowded the wharf; some waiting to board the steamer, others
gathered to see their friends off, and others
vending fruits, vegetables and caged birds.
Back from the dock were the
broad, green fields of an immense sugar estate, and the
great black chimneys of the mill
reared themselves far above the surrounding trees. Eric was surprised to find
docks, settlements and sugar mills here, for he imagined that civilization had
been left behind, and that all about was wilderness. He had not yet learned
that everywhere in British Guiana civilization borders on the vast untamed wilds of South
America.
By midday, however, the last signs of cultivation had been left far
behind. The wooded shores, with their
interminable mangroves, stretched for mile after mile on either hand, and between them
flowed the great turbid river,
dotted with islands and forsaken save by occasional dug-out canoes loaded with
cordwood and manned by stalwart, half-naked colored men.
Now and again tiny thatched
huts were seen amid the jungle, or
dead brown brush, and partly cleared spaces indicated where wood-cutters were
at work. At one spot, too, the
steamer ran close to the shores of a
great, forested island where a number of buildings and a neat church stood in the center of cleared and cultivated lands. Nearer
at hand an ancient, crumbling ruin stood close to shore, and the captain told Eric this was an old Dutch fort,
that at one time the Dutch had many
towns and settlements far up the
rivers, and that the island was
known as Fort Island.
Eric thought it would be
great fun to go ashore and poke around among the
ruins, and as a little dock projected from the
shores he hoped the steamer would
stop, but it kept steadily on, and soon the
inland and the fort were hidden
behind other islands astern.
For hour after hour the boat continued, swinging around bend after bend,
threading a zigzag course between sand bars and islands, and ever with nothing
save river, sky and endless jungle in sight. But, while the
scenery was monotonous, and there
was little of interest to be seen, time did not hang heavily on Eric's hands,
and he plied the captain and his
fellow passengers with questions, and learned much of interest and many things
which later proved of the greatest
value. He discovered that the tide
rose and fell for nearly one hundred miles up the
rivers; that navigation ceased at Bartica because of rapids farther upstream; that the
Mazaruni and Cuyuni joined close above the
town, and that the great penal
settlement of the colony was just
across the Mazaruni from Bartica. He
was filled with interest at the
stories of the gold diggings and
diamond fields of the upper rivers,
and listened to many a yarn of fortunes lost and won, and he gained an excellent
idea of the life of the interior, the
dangers of navigating the falls and
rapids, the resources of the country and the
products of the "bush."
Then the
little settlements of Itaka, Dalli and Wolga were passed, with their granite quarries above the
riverside, and Bartica was sighted far ahead, and just before sundown the steamer ran alongside the
dock of this little town at the edge
of the wilderness. It was a mere
village,—a few score little wooden buildings straggling along grassy lanes,—but
it was typically a frontier settlement, and everywhere were evidences that it
was the jumping-off place of
civilization. Before it flowed the
great rivers leading into the heart
of the continent, behind it
stretched the forest, and on its
streets silent, bronze-skinned Indians, negroes and colored men, Portuguese and
a few Hindus mingled freely. Close to the
dock was a great, open, shed-like structure, within which scores of prospectors
and gold diggers swung their
hammocks and cooked their meals,
while waiting for boats to carry them
up the rivers to the "diggings," and the
front of the hotel bore the legend, "Boats, outfits and tacklings for the Balata, Gold and Diamond Fields."
Early the
next morning Eric and his father
boarded the heavy river boat which
Mr. Marvin had engaged, and,
impelled by the powerful strokes of
eight paddlers, the craft swept
swiftly up the river towards Ratura.
The sun was still low in the east, a mist hung over the
river, parrots winged screaming overhead, great macaws screeched and toucans
clattered from the tree tops, and
from the depths of the forest issued countless songs, notes and cries
of awakening life. The boat skirted close to the
river bank, and Eric longed to step ashore and enter the
rank green jungle, with its dark, mysterious shadows and giant trees. But he
was forced to content himself with gazing at the
bush from the passing boat, and with
watching the strange birds and great
sky-blue butterflies, that flitted here and there
along the forest's edge.
At last a cleared space
appeared ahead, the roof of a good-sized
building was seen peeping from the greenery,
and the boat was run alongside a
tiny wooden dock at the foot of a
shaded road. No one was in sight,
and, while the boatmen busied themselves unloading the
baggage, Mr. Marvin and Eric hurried up the
pathway towards the bungalow.
As they
came within sight of the house a
white man, clad in dirty pajamas, approached. He was small, wiry, shifty-eyed
and weasel-faced, and Eric took an instinctive dislike to him even before he
spoke.
"Good morning,"
said Mr. Marvin pleasantly. "You are Mr. Leggett, I presume."
"Morning," grunted the other.
"You guessed right; I'm Leggett. What do you want?"
"My name is Marvin,—this
is my son, Eric,—and I've come down in the
interests of the company, to look
about and see if the place can't be
made to pay."
Leggett's lip curled in a
scornful snarl. "Huh! Come down to spy on me, eh. Well, you're welcome to
see all you can. I ain't got anything to hide, but you needn't run away with the idea that this place'll pay—'tain't in it. I
reckon I know my business, I do; and no bloomin' green hand can show me
anything. Might as well chuck up the
place and sell out while the
sellin's good 's my advice."
"Oh, I don't know about
that," said Mr. Marvin, as they
turned towards the house. "I
don't question your knowledge, Mr. Leggett, but there
may be unnecessary expenditures that can be reduced, or resources which have
not been developed. I should like, first of all, to go over your books with
you."
At these
words, Leggett stopped in his tracks, swung about and cried angrily, "So
that's your game, is it? Come snoopin' around tryin' to make me the goat, eh! "Well, mister, I don't
keep books, I don't. I'm too old a hand to have anything 'round for smart
Alecks like you to juggle about to prove I'm to blame. S'pose you think I been doin'
your bloody company?"
Mr. Marvin flushed at the insulting words and manner of the man, but he spoke quietly and calmly. "I
regret that you take this attitude," he said. "I had hoped to avoid
any unpleasantness, but, under the
circumstances, I might as well tell you that I intend to discharge you. I don't
think you've been 'doing' the
company,—I know it."
''You do, do you?'' sneered the manager. “G'oin' to fire me, are you? Well, I
reckon you don't know who you're a-talkin' to. You've got another guess comin', mister. When Tom Leggett's fired,
he fires himself. Now, you get to blazes out o' here, and get quick, while the gettin's good. I don't let any one call me a
crook more 'an once, you bet your life."
As he spoke he whipped out a revolver and
leveled it at Mr. Marvin. For a brief instant Eric and his father hesitated, dumbfounded at Leggett's violent
outburst and threatening attitude. But there
was nothing to be done save obey the
fellow's commands, for the boatmen
were beyond call, and for all they
knew the manager was a madman.
"Very well," said
Mr. Marvin, after the tense pause.
''You have the upper hand at
present, I admit. But rest assured I shall soon return, and the police will be with me. I had no idea of
prosecuting you before; but you've shown yourself unworthy of any
consideration,—you're too dangerous to be at large."
"Comin' back with
police, are you?" screamed Leggett, in a frenzy. ''Come on; I'll know you
nex' time I see you. I'll mark that smug face of yours all right,—take that,
you dirty sneak!"
As he spoke, he sprang
forward and snatching up a heavy stick raised it to strike. But the blow never fell; ere Mr. Marvin could dodge, ere
Eric could spring forward, a lithe
brown body shot downward from the
foliage of the mango tree overhead
and, landing full on Leggett's head and shoulders, bore him crashing to the earth. The revolver flew from the manager's hand and exploded harmlessly as it
struck the road, and with the breath completely knocked out of his body by the unexpected onslaught, Leggett lay panting and
half-conscious upon the ground,
while over him stood a half-naked, bronze-skinned youth with a keen machete
held threateningly at the other's throat.
"S'pose makeum move, me
chop you plenty," laconically remarked this new arrival on the scene, and the
prostrate bully, all the fight gone
from him, took the hint and remained
motionless.
