There are few country people who have not witnessed the spectacle of a piece of woodland inundated by the overflow of a neighbouring stream.

This flood is temporary; the waters soon subside into their ordinary channel, and the trees once more appear growing out of _terra firma_, with the green mead spreading on all sides around them. But a flooded forest is a very different affair; somewhat similar in character indeed, but far grander. Not a mere spinney of trees along the bank of a small stream; but a region extending beyond the reach of vision,--a vast tract of primeval woods,--the tall trees submerged to their very tops, not for days, nor weeks, but for months,--ay, some of them forever! Picture to your mind an inundation of this kind, and you will have some idea of the Gapo.

Extending for seventeen hundred miles along the banks of the Solimoes, now wider on the northern, now stretching farther back from the southern side, this semi-submerged forest is found, its interior almost as unknown as the crater-like caverns of the moon, or the icy oceans that storm or slumber round the Poles,--unknown to civilised man, but not altogether to the savage. The aboriginal of Amazonia, crouching in his canoe, has pierced this water-land of wonders. He could tell you much about it that is real, and much that is marvellous,--the latter too often p.r.o.nounced fanciful by lettered _savans_. He could tell you of strange trees that grow there, bearing strange fruits, not to be found elsewhere,--of wonderful quadrupeds, and _quadrumana_, that exist only in the Gapo,--of birds brilliantly beautiful, and reptiles hideously ugly; among the last the dreaded dragon serpent, "Sucuruju." He could tell you, moreover, of creatures of his own kind,--if they deserve the name of man,--who dwell continuously in the flooded forest, making their home on scaffolds among the tree-tops, pa.s.sing from place to place in floating rafts or canoes, finding their subsistence on fish, on the flesh of the _manatee_, on birds, beasts, reptiles, and insects, on the stalks of huge water-plants and the fruits of undescribed trees, on monkeys, and sometimes upon _man_! Such Indians as have penetrated the vast water-land have brought strange tales out of it. We may give credence to them or refuse it; but they, at least, are firm believers in most of the accounts which they have collected.

It is not to be supposed that the Gapo is impenetrable. On the contrary, there are several well-known waterways leading through it,-- well-known, I mean, to the Indians dwelling upon its borders, to the _tapuyos_, whose business it is to supply crews for the galateas of the Portuguese traders, and to many of these traders themselves. These waterways are often indicated by "blazings" on the trees, or broken branches, just as the roads are laid out by pioneer settlers in a North American forest; and but for these marks, they could not be followed.

Sometimes, however, large s.p.a.ces occur in which no trees are to be seen, where, indeed, none grow. There are extensive lakes, always under water, even at the lowest ebb of the inundation. They are of all sizes and every possible configuration, from the complete circle through all the degrees of the ellipse, and not unfrequently in the form of a belt, like the channel of a river running for scores of miles between what might readily be mistaken for banks covered with a continuous thicket of low bushes, which are nothing more than the "spray" of evergreen trees, whose roots lie forty feet under water!

More frequently these openings are of irregular shape, and of such extent as to merit the t.i.tle of "inland seas." When such are to be crossed, the sun has to be consulted by the canoe or galatea gliding near their centre; and when he is not visible,--by no means a rare phenomenon in the Gapo,--then is there great danger of the craft straying from her course.

When within sight of the so-called "sh.o.r.e," a clump of peculiar form, or a tree topping over its fellows, is used as a landmark, and often guides the navigator of the Gapo to the _igarita_ of which he is in search.

It is not all tranquillity on this tree-studded ocean. It has its fogs, its gales, and its storms,--of frequent occurrence. The canoe is oft shattered against the stems of gigantic trees; and the galatea goes down, leaving her crew to perish miserably in the midst of a gloomy wilderness of wood and water. Many strange tales are told of such mishaps; but up to the present hour none have received the permanent record of print and paper.

Be it _our_ task to supply this deficiency.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE ECHENTE.

It would not be true to say that the crew of the galatea were up with the sun. There was no sun to shine upon the gloomy scene that revealed itself next morning. Instead, there was a fog almost thick enough to be grasped with the hand. They were astir, however, by the earliest appearance of day; for the captain of the galatea was too anxious about his "stranded" craft to lie late abed.

They had no difficulty in getting the vessel afloat. A strong pull at the branches of the sapucaya, and then an adroit use of the paddles, carried the craft clear.

But what was the profit of this? Once out in the open water, they were as badly off as ever. Not one of them had the slightest idea of the direction they would take, even supposing they could find a clear course in any direction! A consultation was the result, in which all hands took part, though it was evident that, after the patron, most deference was paid to the Mundurucu. The young Paraense stood next in the scale of respect; while Tipperary Tom, beyond the account which he was called upon to give of his steersmanship, was not permitted to mingle his Hibernian brogue in the discussion.

Where was the river? That was the first problem to be solved, and of this there appeared to be no possible solution. There was no sun to guide them, no visible sky. Even had there been both, it would scarce have mended the matter. The steersman could not tell whether, on straying from the channel, he had drifted to the south or the north, the east or the west; and, indeed, an intellect less obtuse than that of Tipperary Tom might have been puzzled upon the point. It has been already mentioned, that the Solimoes is so tortuous as to turn to every point of the compa.s.s in its slow course. The mere fact that the moon was shining at the time could be of little use to Tipperary Tom, whose astronomy had never extended beyond the knowledge that there was a moon.

Where lay the river? The interrogatory was repeated a score of times, without receiving a satisfactory answer; though every one on board--the little Rosita excepted--ventured some sort of reply, most, however, offering their opinion with a doubting diffidence. The Mundurucu, although repeatedly appealed to, had taken small part in the discussion, remaining silent, his eyes moodily wandering over the water, seeking through the fog for some clue to their escape from the spot.

No one plied the paddles; they had impelled her out of sight of the sapucaya, now shrouded in the thick fog; but, as it was useless paddling any farther, all hands had desisted, and were now resting upon their oars. At this moment it was perceived that the galatea was in motion.

The Mundurucu was the first to notice it; for his attention had for some time been directed to such discovery. For this reason had he cast his searching glances, now down into the turbid waters, and now out through the murky atmosphere. A thicket was discernible through the fog, but every moment becoming less distinct. Of course it was only a collection of tree-tops; but whatever it was, it soon became evident that the galatea was very slowly receding from it. On discovering this, the Mundurucu displayed signs of fresh animation. He had been for some minutes lying upon his face, craning out over the gangway, and his long withered arms submerged in the water. The others occupied themselves in guessing what he was about; but their guesses had been to no purpose.

Equally purposeless had appeared the actions of the Indian; for, after keeping his arm under water for a period of several minutes, he drew it in with a dissatisfied air, and once more arose to his feet. It was just then that he perceived the tree-tops, upon which he kept his eyes sharply fixed, until a.s.sured that the galatea was going away from them.

"_Hoola_!" he exclaimed, attempting to imitate the cry he had more than once heard issuing from the lips of Tipperary Tom. "_Hoola_! the river is out there!" As he spoke, he pointed towards the tree-tops.

It was the first confident answer to the all-important question.

"How can you tell that, Munday?" inquired the captain of the craft.

"How tell, patron? How tell day from night, the moon from the sun, fire from water? The Solimoes is there." The Indian spoke with his arm still extended in the direction of the trees.

"We are willing to believe you," rejoined Trevannion, "and will trust to your guidance; but pray explain yourself."

"It's all guess-work," interpolated Tipperary Tom. "Ould Munday knows no more av fwat he's talkin' about than Judy Fitzc.u.mmons's mother. I'll warrant ye we come in from the t'other side."

"Silence, Tom!" commanded his master. "Let us hear what Munday has to say. _You_ have no right to contradict him."

"Och, awance! An Indyen's opinion prefarred before that ov a freeborn Oirishman! I wondher what nixt." And as Tipperary completed his chapter of reproaches, he slank crouchingly under the shadow of the _toldo_.

"So you think the river is there?" said Trevannion, once more addressing himself to the Mundurucu.

"The Mundurucu is sure of it, patron. Sure as that the sky is above us."

"Remember, old man! It won't do for us to make any mistake. No doubt we've already strayed a considerable distance from the channel of the Solimoes. To go again from it will be to endanger our lives."

"The Mundurucu knows that," was the laconic reply.

"Well, then, we must be satisfied of the fact, before we can venture to make a move. What proof can you give us that the river lies in that direction?"

"Patron! You know the month? It is the month of March."

"Certainly it is. What of that?"

"The _echente_."

"The _echente_? What is that?"

"The flood getting bigger. The water on the rise,--the Gapo still growing,--that is the _echente_."

"But how should that enable you to determine the direction of the river?"

"It has done so," replied the Indian. "Not before three months--in June--will come the _vasante_."

"The _vasante_?"

"The _vasante_, patron: the fall. Then the Gapo will begin to grow less; and the current will be _towards_ the river, as now it is _from_ it."

"Your story appears reasonable enough. I suppose we may trust to it.

If so," added Trevannion, "we had better direct our course towards yonder tree-tops, and lose no time in getting beyond them. All of you to your paddles, and pull cheerily. Let us make up for the time we have lost through the negligence of Tipperary Tom. Pull, my lads, pull!"

At this cheering command the four paddlers rushed to their places; and the galatea, impelled by their vigorous strokes, once more glided gayly over the bosom of the waters.

CHAPTER NINE.

AN IMPa.s.sABLE BARRIER.

In a few moments the boat's bow was brought within half a cable's length of the boughs of the submerged trees. Her crew could see that to proceed farther, on a direct course, was simply impossible. With equal reason might they have attempted to hoist her into the air, and leap over the obstruction that had presented itself before them.

Not only were the branches of the adjoining trees interlocked, but from one to the other straggled a luxurious growth of creepers, forming a network so strong and compact that a steamer of a hundred horse-power would have been safely brought to a stand among its meshes. Of course no attempt was made to penetrate this impenetrable _chevaux de frise_; and after a while had been spent in reconnoitring it, Trevannion, guided by the counsel of the Mundurucu, ordered the galatea to go about, and proceed along the selvage of the submerged forest. An hour was spent in paddling. No opening. Another hour similarly employed, and with similar results!

The river might be in the direction pointed out by the Indian. No doubt it was; but how were they to reach it? Not a break appeared in all that long traverse wide enough to admit the pa.s.sage of a canoe. Even an arrow could scarce have penetrated among the trees, that extended their parasite-laden branches beyond the border of the forest! By tacit consent of the patron, the paddlers rested upon their oars; then plied them once more; and once more came to a pause.

No opening among the tree-tops; no chance to reach the channel of the Solimoes. The gloomy day became gloomier, for night was descending over the Gapo. The crew of the galatea, wearied with many hours of exertion, ceased paddling. The patron did not oppose them; for his spirit, as well as theirs, had become subdued by hope long deferred. As upon the previous night, the craft was moored among the tree-tops, where her rigging, caught among the creepers, seemed enough to keep her from drifting away. But very different from that of the preceding night was the slumber enjoyed by her crew. Amidst the boughs of the sapucaya, there had been nothing to disturb their tranquillity, save the occasional shower of nuts, caused by the cracking of the dry sh.e.l.ls, and the monkey-pots discharging their contents. Then was the galatea "grounded" upon a solitary tree, which carried only its own fruit.

To-night she was moored in the middle of a forest,--at all events upon its edge,--a forest, not of the earth, nor the air, nor the water, but of all three,--a forest whose inhabitants might be expected to partake of a character altogether strange and abnormal. And of such character were they; for scarce had the galatea become settled among the tree-tops, when the ears of her crew were a.s.sailed by a chorus of sounds, that with safety might have challenged the choir of Pandemonium.

Two alone remained undismayed,--Richard Trevannion and the Mundurucu.