The Project Gutenberg eBook of Adrift on the Amazon
Title: Adrift on the Amazon
Author: Leo E. Miller
Illustrator: W. A. Rogers
Release date: November 28, 2025 [eBook #77361]
Language: English
Original publication: New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1923
Credits: Chuck Greif & The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
CONTENTS
ILLUSTRATIONS
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
BY LEO E. MILLER
THE BLACK PHANTOM
THE HIDDEN PEOPLE
IN THE TIGER'S LAIR
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
ADRIFT
ON THE AMAZON
ADRIFT
ON THE AMAZON
BY
LEO E. MILLER
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
1923
Copyright, 1923, by
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
Printed in the United States of America
TO
ALL READERS
WHO HAVE A WHOLESOME LIKING
FOR STORIES
OF ADVENTURE AND THE GREAT OUTDOORS
PREFACE
The Amazon! Who has not been thrilled at the mere mention of the words? For the name of the world’s mightiest river suggests not only vast expanses of muddy water, but also the jungle-clad shores and wild hinterland where nature seems to have run riot in the development of strange and interesting vegetation and animal life, and of tribes of savages but little known and less understood. There is romance and adventure to be found in each mile of its yellow flood or gloomy thickets. But to only a few is given the privilege of lifting the veil of mystery that hangs over the Amazon country and of exploring its hidden retreats.
“Adrift on the Amazon” is the story of a youth’s struggles against the seemingly insurmountable difficulties that confronted the intrepid wanderer into the Amazon wilderness.
CONTENTS
ILLUSTRATIONS
ADRIFT
ON THE AMAZONoi
CHAPTER I
FIGHTING JONES
To David’s friends he was commonly known as “Fighting Jones”; but this name carried nothing of discredit with it; for, though the title had been earned by the not infrequent use of two good fists, the encounters had always been occasioned by a righteous cause—in protection of someone who was unable to defend his or her own interest.
The trouble was that the one higher up, the final authority as it were, had always decided against him. Sometimes words of sympathy, even approbation, had softened the rebuke that invariably followed each altercation; but in the final summing up he had never escaped the penalty.
David was downcast. It seemed as if the bottom had dropped out of everything. And as he mentally reviewed the events of the past ten minutes and speculated upon their consequences he knew that at last he had reached the very end of his tether. He had arrived at the parting of the ways; a break was plainly in sight; and at last he meant to assert himself.
His determined nature began to show itself so long ago as David could remember and probably before that. But he could recall the first difficulty in the kindergarten when one of the older and larger boys took advantage of his small size to deprive him of some cherished plaything. He never forgot that fight, nor the punishment he received at the hand of a stern father.
Later, years later, in high school, there had been the trouble when the principal had rebuked Miss Palmer, the instructor in Latin, before the whole class. The principal was a big, gruff man whose main attributes were to look stern at all times in an effort to instill discipline and to rejoice secretly when others showed signs of fear. He ruled by intimidation. Miss Palmer was meek and frail and when the lordly Mr. Davison assailed her she began to cry. That was too much for David. He calmly arose and informed the surprised Mr. Davison that he would never see any woman mistreated like that and if he did not stop at once and apologize he would knock his block off. Several of his classmates now came to his assistance. That precipitated a row. Result—David as ringleader of the mutiny was dismissed. Discipline had to be maintained.
He worried through school and college somehow or other. Then was forced into business by his father and tried hard to make good and was progressing in a satisfactory, so he thought, if not brilliant manner until——
Wellman, the chief engineer, was passing through the draughting room. David, busy at his board, was not even aware of his presence until he heard a muffled cough in back of him.
“Good morning, Mr. Wellman,” he said pleasantly, turning to greet his chief.
“How are the plans coming along?” the latter said abruptly. “I want to have the blue-prints struck off this afternoon.”
“They will be ready in an hour,” David returned. “I am just finishing the terrace.”
“Let me see!” Wellman adjusted his tortoise shell spectacles. “What scale?”
“Quarter inch.”
“What? Quarter inch?” One would have thought Wellman had been shot, the way he roared. “Didn’t I tell you to make it half inch?”
“I am sorry. I must have misunderstood. I will do them over.”
“Impossible. The superintendent must have the blue-prints tonight.”
“That is impossible too. I cannot do two days’ work in a few hours and do it right.”
“You’ll never know anything.” Wellman bellowed, while all the others in the office turned to see and hear what was going on.
“Now, look here,” David interrupted. “There is no excuse for your acting like that. You passed my table several times both yesterday and the day before and it seems to me as if you should have noticed the mistake then. Besides, I am sure you said quarter inch scale to begin with.”
“That’s right! that’s right! Blame it on me. You think you can do as you please because your father is president of this concern.” The chief was talking louder than ever.
“If it were not for your age I’d thrash you until you took that back.”
“Never mind my gray hair. Never mind my glasses; I’ll take them off. Here I am. Go to it. You are a privileged person around here. Do anything you like.”
Instead of replying, David threw down his drawing instruments and left the room. He headed straight for his father’s office. Arrived there he was told by a secretary to sit down in the ante-room; his father had given orders not to admit him until he should ring for him.
So! He knew about it already! Wellman had forestalled him by using the telephone. It was just as well that he had. His father would have the chief’s version of the affair and be ready to hear the other side of it.
A buzzer sounded and the secretary nodded to him to enter.
For a moment the elder Jones did not notice him. Then he turned abruptly in his chair and faced his son.
“What have you got to say?” he asked, not unkindly and rather sadly.
“Wellman told you what happened, I suppose.”
“Yes. He just called up. I want to hear your side of the matter.”
David gave an accurate account of the occurrence from beginning to end, while his father listened resignedly.
“Wellman is an old and valued employe, but I think this time he went too far. Disregarding the fact that you are my son, I am inclined to believe that you were not at fault—in fact, I am rather proud of the way you handled the situation. Still, that does not settle the issue. That office is too small for you and Wellman; so Wellman will have to go.”
David could not believe his ears and for a moment he was speechless.
“You don’t mean that you are going to fire him?” he asked finally.
“Yes. He went too far. The two of you would always be at odds after this and it would demoralize the whole department. I am sorry, but Wellman will receive his notice today.”
“I don’t want to see him lose his job. He is old and would have a hard time to find another. Why not keep him and let me out?”
“Because I want you to learn this business thoroughly; you may be called upon to take my place some day. You are just starting life. Your welfare is my first consideration.”
David saw his chance at last.
“If that is true,” he quickly interposed, “don’t start me on the wrong track. I do not want to stay in this business. I hate it. I tried to make good only to please you. If you are really thinking of my welfare, let me pick out my own work.”
“What is wrong with this? It offers most unusual opportunities for great and lasting success.”
“I know, but somehow or other I don’t seem to fit in. I dislike the city and all business. I want to go away where there is room to expand and to learn big things of another kind.”
“Remember the possibilities I just mentioned. You might some day erect a building taller than any of today or build a cathedral that would be a monument to your genius.”
“I would rather plow with a tractor and sow wheat; or herd cattle; or raise pigs than build anything no matter how great. I could put my whole heart and soul into that work and enjoy it. I want space to do my thinking and to develop in. I want green grass under my feet and a blue sky overhead. It is too crowded here. There are just as big things to be done in one place as in another.”
“Good gracious! Who put all that into your head? Or did you read it in some book?”
“It has just been growing on me and with me. I must get away from here. Let me work out my own future.”
“Suppose I should refuse to listen any further.”
“Then I am afraid I should go anyway, not right now, perhaps, but at some future time. The thought of all this is bigger than I am, and some day, soon, it would get the better of me and I should be compelled to go.”
“Well, well!” His father was obviously worried. “So you have made up your mind. You refuse to go back to your work here?”
“I should rather not. And, let Wellman stay.”
“I’ll see. Now you go straight home and wait for me there. This thing will have to be settled one way or the other.”
As David left the building his mind was filled with so many things that it was impossible to think clearly on any one of them. Two things kept recurring to him, however, because they had been so unexpected. The first was that his father had taken sides with him in the controversy, had admitted that he was right and that Wellman was in the wrong; he had even gone so far as to volunteer to discharge the old and valued employe. And the second was that for the first time his parent had indicated a willingness to seriously listen to the thing he felt best suited him and for which he was eager to sacrifice his enviable prospects as a man of the business world.
He could hardly wait to tell his mother. She had always been a sympathetic listener and while she had never greatly encouraged him in his ambition she had never discouraged him.
It was, therefore, a source of disappointment to him to find upon reaching home that his mother was not there. She had an appointment for luncheon, the cook informed him, and would go to a club meeting after that. It was impossible to draw any further information from the cook. David suspected that she knew more, but to his casual remark that she must have decided rather suddenly to go, there came no response. Evidently the cook had orders not to talk, so he did not question her further.
The afternoon seemed like a year. He tried to read a magazine; then a book, but after turning a few pages he was forced to admit that he did not know what he was reading about, so he closed it with a bang and calling Spike, his terrier, went for a walk in the garden.
David had just passed his twenty-first year. He was tall, of athletic build, with dark hair and eyes. There was the look of determination in his face that caused others instinctively to respect him. And his regular, pleasant features bespoke intelligence and breeding. If his natural bent could only be diverted into the proper channel, there was no question but that inborn ability and determination would make themselves felt, and in no uncertain manner.
His father and mother returned just in time for dinner. That there was anything unusual about this did not occur to David for, often when his mother chanced to be in the vicinity of the office in the late afternoon she dropped in and the two motored home together.
The conversation during the meal was a conventional one. It was not until later when the three were together in the library that the subject uppermost in David’s mind was broached.
“I have been talking this thing over with your mother,” his father began abruptly. “There is but one thing in our minds. Regardless of how we feel about it personally, we must consent to the course that seems best for your own good.”
David said nothing, but looked expectantly at his mother.
“Are you sure, David?” she asked in a low voice. “Is your mind made up definitely? Is there not the least possibility that you may want to reconsider? Remember you are young. A mistake may mean the loss of years, perhaps, that will never return. Here you have rare opportunities to make both name and fortune. It would be well to think of these things and to try to picture what it will mean to you to give up a certainty for an uncertainty, for you know very little about the course you are favoring.”
“I have thought of all that,” he said uncomfortably, “and I wish I could feel differently, for your sake. But I just can’t help it. I have always wanted to be out in the open where there is room to see and do things.”
For a moment nothing was said.
“Well,” his father finally ventured with a sigh, “then there is nothing for us to do but to give you the chance you think we owe you. Be sure that you are sure. Take a few weeks to think it over in. But you must promise one thing. If we let you go and you don’t make good or find out that you were mistaken after all, you will come back to the office and buckle down to hard work and never mention the subject again.”
“I don’t need the time; my mind is made up now. And, I promise; but I will get along all right and in the end you will be glad you let me try it.”
They insisted on the time for reflection, however, and during the two weeks that followed no mention was made of the matter. David did not go back to the office; he spent the days, and parts of the nights, too, in reading books on agriculture. These consisted mainly of government publications, long possessed and secretly cherished. He had read them so often that he was sure he knew all about farming and ranching; in fact, when he should use all this information together with some ideas of his own that he had worked out, he should greatly improve if not revolutionize the whole farming and ranching business.
When the two weeks had expired there was another council in the library.
“What is the verdict?” his father asked. “Will you go or will you stay?”
“I want to go just as soon as possible.”
“Have you considered the matter fully from all angles?”
“Yes, I have.”
“And you still feel that your calling is out in the country?”
“Be absolutely sure of yourself before you answer,” his mother cautioned.
“I am sure. I feel that when I get away from the noise and hurry and confinement of the city I can accomplish more in a week than I could here in a year.”
“And, if after trying it you find that you have been mistaken?”
“I shall come back at once and do exactly as I promised.”
“That settles it. You shall have your chance and it will be a rare one even though you cannot realize at what cost to us.” He shot a quick glance at his wife; her eyes were glistening.
“The fact that we have known of your ambition for a long time does not make it easier for us, for you will be far, far away. That alone will give you the opportunity to show your mettle. I think it best that it should be so, for you will be thrown entirely upon your own resources. Either you will become discouraged quickly and come back ready to take our advice, or you will do big things.”
“Where?” David asked in an awed voice. “Where am I going?”
“To South America, because there real opportunities exist for the right man.”
“South America?”
“Yes. Dan Rice, a former client of mine, has a ranch in the Argentine. He went down fifteen years ago. He was a born stock man and made a huge success of the venture. I enquired about him and learned that he is opening a new place in Brazil, somewhere in the Upper Amazon country, above the city called Manaos. I shall send you to him. If ever there was a person who could judge men and get the best out of them, Rice is the one. What do you say?”
“I don’t know what to say except to thank both of you for letting me go. It is better than I even dreamed of. It will be wonderful!”
“Good! I only hope you will not be too greatly disappointed when you get there.”
They continued the discussion far into the night; but the thing the elder Jones did not tell his son was that he had already sent cablegrams to Rice in Manaos in an attempt to make arrangements for his coming. A very short time in the steaming and insect-infested tropics would be sufficient to cause a change of heart, he felt sure. The fact that he was in a wild country thousands of miles away from home and among strangers would hasten it and make it more emphatic. And, once his illusions were dispelled, David would be ready to settle down and do as he was told.
As for David, he was too elated for words. “I am going at last,” he kept repeating to himself. “My luck has changed! My luck has changed!”
But David was quite forgetful of the fact that there are two kinds of luck, good and bad; and that the former seldom lasts long, while the latter is inclined to linger with a most disheartening persistency, and then grow worse.
CHAPTER II
DAVID LEAVES HOME
David was so excited over his proposed trip to a real ranch in South America that he found sleep impossible on the night following the momentous decision.
His head felt like a whirling mass that refused to come to a standstill. He thought of a hundred things that he wanted to do all at once, but the thoughts rushed back and forth and around in circles so that he could not disentangle a single one to start with.
He was going to have his wish at last; that much he realized. And South America at that! The very words were awe-inspiring. They suggested mighty rivers, vast jungles where monkeys formed living chains or bridges to span the streams, by clutching one another’s tails; and where giant snakes drooped like garlands from the branches of great trees while myriads of gorgeous birds and shimmering butterflies fluttered among the bright-colored flowers. These sights must be common ones, for had not the geographies pictured them as typical of the Southern Continent?
David did not care, particularly, for some of the things he was sure he should encounter—especially the snakes and the crocodiles. But, of course, a ranch would not be situated out in the jungle; it would have to be in the open where there was grass for the cattle. He tried to picture such a place. A long, rambling building painted white, with a few palm trees in front under which saddled horses were waiting patiently for their riders; more trees, of some kind or other, nearby, in the shade of which men dressed in buckskins, with fringes on their breeches and great, leather gauntlets on their arms, were sprawled on the grass, their wide-brimmed hats lying on the ground where they had been carelessly tossed by their owners.
All about stretched the rolling meadows, miles and miles, dotted with herds of cattle peacefully grazing on the long, green grass.
That was the picture that formed itself in his mind. But the things that did not occur to him, the things the geographies did not mention and that no one had told him about, so far, were the blistering heat of the tropics that could scorch and burn as mercilessly as the blast from a furnace; the insect pests that rendered life all but unendurable; the fevers that sapped one’s vitality; and the monotony of existence in far-away, lonely places with only the treacherous half-breeds and stolid Indians for companions. It was just as well that these unpleasant details and many others of similar nature remained in the obscure background; he would make their acquaintance soon enough.
“Better decide on what you want to take with you,” his father advised the next day. “You will not need anything fancy, and keep the amount down as much as possible. Talk it over with your mother.”
That was good advice and David followed it. But it required nearly one full day to make out the list, go over it carefully, strike out some items, add others, and then start over again with the ever-present suspicion that something of importance had been forgotten.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said finally, “I am not going to take anything except a few clothes to wear on the trip, one khaki outfit and a gun. How do I know what is proper down there? I might take down a lot of things only to find that they are not suitable in that climate. And the other fellows working on the ranch must get their clothes somewhere in the neighborhood, so I can, too, after I find out exactly what I need.”
His mother promptly agreed that that was the sensible thing to do. Only, she added, a few good books might prove not unwelcome companions on such a trip, so David promptly packed his volumes on cattle and agriculture as well as a few favorite others.
The news of his intended journey spread rapidly among his friends and acquaintances. They immediately divided into two factions; one considered him the luckiest mortal in the world while the other thought he was the most foolish person imaginable.
David pitied them all, impartially. No matter how they felt, they were all doomed to remain behind, chained to the treadmill of city existence, while he was the one to go forth into God’s great world with only the horizon to mark the boundary of his vision and activity.
“I cannot understand it,” Mr. Jones announced one evening soon after. “Rice has not answered my cable. Perhaps he has given up the ranch and gone to other parts. I am sorry, but you may not go after all. Too bad, after all the anticipation.”
David’s heart sank.
“Rice or no Rice, I am going just the same,” he announced.
“But where to? If he has gone away there will be no place to which you can go.”
“He couldn’t take the ranch with him, could he? If he has gone someone else must have it. And even if that outfit is out of existence there must be plenty of others. I am not fussy over where I make my start.”
“Very well. So far as this proposition is concerned you shall have your own way. But you cannot blame me for being concerned about your welfare.”
“Of course not. But at the same time, please don’t forget that I am not a baby. I can take care of myself.”
His father bit his lip. His eyes narrowed as he regarded his son. And in that instant an idea came to him.
“Just as you say,” he said quietly. “It will be your chance to show me just what you can do. The Morales sails a week from today and I shall make a reservation for you. In the meantime, I shall send other cables; you may go regardless of whether there are answers or not. Is that satisfactory?”
“It’s splendid. I won’t sleep a wink until then.”
On the eve of the great day the little group around the dinner table was very silent.
“Rice has answered at last,” Mr. Jones said suddenly.
“What did he say?” asked David, eagerly.
“Never mind what he said. You are determined to go, anyway, so it makes no difference.”
“But does he want me to come?” David persisted.
“Suppose he does?”
“I should go, of course.”
“And if he does not?”
“I should go anyway. I am all ready, my ticket is bought and I couldn’t think of backing out. I should never hear the last of it.”
“You are quite right. Everything is arranged, however, and I want you to go. You will do just as you planned.”
David thought he noticed an amused expression on his father’s face, but he was not quite sure. It did seem, though, that his manner had changed remarkably in the last few days. His former reluctance had given way to seeming eagerness. But in the feverishness of his excitement David did not appraise these observations at their proper value and soon forgot them entirely.
At last the memorable day actually arrived. The weeks of waiting had seemed an eternity. But here he was, aboard the great boat; some of the people about him were crying and for a moment he felt a strange feeling coming upon him. Going was not so easy as he had thought. Just then the bell warned all visitors to go ashore and amid the last farewells he was reminded of one thing.
“Do not forget,” his father said, “you may return at any time you like and you will be welcome at home. Even if you stay only a few days, the experience of the voyage will be of value and you will be more content to settle down. Perhaps you will be back soon.”
They went ashore. The gangway was raised and the engines began to throb ever so slowly as the ship backed out of her berth. Not long after that the boat was well out in the bay and the crowd that lined the dock merged into a waving mass in which it was impossible to distinguish anyone.
Those last words filled David with something like resentment.
“Perhaps you will be back soon!” Indeed! What did his father mean by that? Well, they would have to wait a long time before seeing him again. Upon that point he was determined. No matter what happened, he would not return home very soon. He would stick it out in the face of every obstacle and difficulty that might block his path. He would show them that he could make good if he but had the opportunity and the opportunity had come at last.
By that time the ship was well down the harbor, so he sought his cabin to unpack his baggage. Upon entering he found a man several years his senior busily engaged straightening out his own effects.
“My name is Rogers,” said the stranger, extending his hand. “I guess we share this place.”
“Glad to know you. My name is Jones.”
“Well, as we are going to bunk together for a while I suppose we might as well toss a coin for the berths.”
So saying, Rogers fished a dime out of his pocket.
“What will it be?” he asked.
“I’ll take heads,” David replied.
Rogers tossed the coin into the air.
“Tails, you lose, Jones,” he said. “So I will take the lower. Anyway, you are younger and more spry than I am, so you will not mind climbing into the upper.”
The conversation continued while they unpacked their luggage and the older man gave David a good deal of information, having noticed that he had not been to sea before. David rather liked Rogers and felt that this was the beginning of a pleasant friendship.
* * * * *
Dinner in the Jones household was a quiet, solemn affair that night.
“Wellman played his part to perfection,” the father said finally. “Too well, in fact. For a while I was afraid David would agree with me that he should be discharged. But I am proud of the stand he took. He acted just as I would have had him do.”
“Are you sure he does not suspect the plan was pre-arranged?”
“Yes, he thought Wellman was serious in calling him down. He was going from bad to worse—through no fault of his own, I will admit. He tried hard to make good but could not; and he never will until he forgets those ideas with which his head is crammed. Only then will he come back to earth and buckle down to his job.”
“Do you think he will be back soon?”
“Yes, I think so. When he sees what he is compelled to endure in Brazil he will become disillusioned in short order. I know what I am talking about and so I think a short time of it will be all he wants. Three months, at most.”
Mr. Jones spoke with an air of finality. The ability to look ahead and forecast the outcome of things had in a large measure placed him on the pinnacle of success he occupied. But for once, and in spite of carefully arranged plans, he was doomed to disappointment. For the son possessed all the advantage; he was entering with unbounded enthusiasm a field for which he had prepared himself, however slightly, and of which he therefore had some knowledge, while the father was making predictions as to the outcome of affairs of which he knew nothing.
CHAPTER III
THE AMAZON
Early the next morning David became aware of the fact that he had embarked on a stormy voyage. The ship rolled and pitched in an alarming manner. He could hear the shrieking and moaning of the wind and feel the vessel tremble as the waves struck the steel sides with a muffled roar.
At first he did not know just what to make of it, so he groped for the switch and turned on the light. Rogers was sleeping soundly in the berth below. There was no one stirring on deck or in the passageway, so he came to the conclusion that a storm was not an unusual occurrence and that everyone took it as a matter of fact, so he snapped off the light.
But it was far from comfortable, this rolling and tossing, and sleep was impossible. Daylight soon came, however, and with it the bustle and sound of voices on deck incident to life aboard ship.
“Going down to breakfast?” Rogers enquired, holding to a hand-rail with one hand while he calmly shaved with the other. He seemed to mind not at all the lurching of the boat.
“I guess not; I don’t feel hungry,” David replied in a weak voice.
“Sick?”
“A little. It’s not so bad while I lie still; but when I try to get up my head spins.”
“Never mind. It will soon pass. Better have a cup of coffee; then you will feel better. I’ll ring for the steward.”
“No, don’t. Please, let’s talk about something else; anything but food. Will the storm last long?”
“It may clear up later. If it gets calmer come out for a walk on deck. The fresh air is a good tonic,” and he strode out of the room.
But the storm did not subside. It lasted two whole days and three nights. By that time David was so ill he was compelled to remain in his berth another full day to recuperate sufficiently to venture out.
The fresh air and the bright sunshine on the upper deck worked wonders. Added to these, long walks back and forth, a few games of shuffleboard and an occasional dip in the ship’s swimming tank soon restored his good health and usual cheerful manner.
“You expect to work on a ranch in Brazil, eh?” Rogers commented one morning as they leaned over the rail to watch the flyingfish startled by the prow of the boat as she cut her way through the glassy water.
“I not only expect to but I am going to,” David returned promptly.
“How long are you going to stay?”
“A long, long time. In fact, I haven’t thought of going back. I had better get there first.”
“Know anything about ranching?”
“Not much; but I can learn.”
“Know anything about Brazil or what you are going to be up against?” Rogers persisted.
“Not a thing.”
“Do you know what I think?”
“I’m not a mind-reader.”
“Well, I think you are foolish to try it.”
“Thank you,” David replied promptly.
“I mean it.”
“I can’t help what you think,” pleasantly. “My head is working overtime figuring out my own things.”
“I would not go where you are going for a thousand dollars a month.”
“Neither would I. I am doing this because I am interested in it and want to learn. Office work, no matter how easy, is unbearable to me because I don’t like it. Outdoor work, no matter how hard, will be fun because I do like it.”
“I went to Manaos once, and that was far enough,” Rogers proceeded. “The heat, the rains, the mosquitoes, in fact everything that makes life miserable was there in too great abundance to suit me. If I were in your place I should go up the river for the sake of the trip. The Amazon country is great—to see from the deck of the steamer. Look at it until you have your fill and then go back to the good position you left. I am telling you right now that you are making a big mistake, and you will regret it.”
“It’s very kind of you to take such an interest in me, but you must think I am a jellyfish. There is no use saying anything more. My mind is made up. I wouldn’t even think of backing out—not for the world,” Jones asserted in no uncertain accents.
“All right. Think it over.” Rogers yawned and went to his deck chair, while David took a small, red volume from his pocket and devoted his time to the study of Portuguese.
The days slipped by pleasantly and quickly. The water assumed a deeper blue color and great rafts of seaweed dotted the surface. The air was balmy and delightful.
There was always something new and interesting to see. The birds in particular attracted David’s attention, especially the man-o’-war birds that soared on motionless, narrow wings hour after hour and, it was said, day after day, in the cloudless sky. They rarely slept or rested but sailed on tireless pinions as if they enjoyed it, bent on some mission none could fathom. Then there were the little petrels or Mother Carey’s chickens, as the sailors called them, fluttering and skipping over the water like huge, black grasshoppers; they appeared in greatest numbers on those rare occasions when the ship passed through a choppy stretch of water.
Some of the barren, rocky islands were fairly teeming with boobies, jaegers, gannets and other feathered lovers of the briny deep. They sat on the shelflike ledges running along the faces of the cliffs like the tiers of beads on an abacus. Other swarms filled the air, fluttering, soaring, circling and wheeling amidst squawks and screams while still other hordes sat motionless on the water.
The jaegers were the pirates of the deep. They waited until the smaller birds returned from their successful fishing excursion, then attacked them until they disgorged their catches which they greedily appropriated to their own use.
These sights fascinated David. How different from the imprisonment of the city! And this was but a taste of what he was to see, a sample of the free life in the open for which he longed.
After nearly two weeks sailing he came on deck one morning to find that the color of the water had changed overnight. Instead of the clear, crisp blue the ship was ploughing her way through a sea of yellow that extended to the horizon on every side. He called the matter to the attention of Rogers.
“That muddy water is discharged by the Amazon,” the latter said.
“But we are not near the river yet,” David remarked incredulously. “There is no land in sight.”
“No, we are not near the river and will not be until some time tomorrow. Even if we were in the very center of the Amazon you could not see the banks, for the river is about one hundred and fifty miles wide at its mouth. The quantity of water it carries into the ocean is so enormous that it keeps its yellow color several hundred miles out at sea before the mud settles and the fresh water is thoroughly mixed with and absorbed by the brine of the ocean.”
The next evening they saw the first indication of land. At first there were only long lines of white far in the distance where breakers were dashing over the low sandbars that checked their onward sweep. Later, they distinguished small, dark tufts, like feather dusters, outlined against the clear sky; these were coconut palms growing on the outlying islands. And before long the first land—dim strips of dark color seemingly suspended between the water and the sky, met their gaze.
At night they entered the river proper. It was too dark to see anything, but David was so excited he could hardly sleep. Here he was, on the mighty Amazon, and it was not a dream either. What tales the silent water could tell could it but talk! What had the stream witnessed, on its journey through many thousands of miles of wilderness and jungle inhabited by savage beasts and equally savage peoples! And what secrets were locked up in that outwardly calm, yellow flood! The very air seemed saturated with mystery, romance and adventure. And here he was, alone and foot-free and eager to absorb his full share of everything this wonderful country offered.
With daylight came disappointment. Instead of the wide expanse of water David had expected to see there was only a narrow channel through which the ship proceeded with caution. Both banks were covered with heavy, deep green vegetation, extending to the edge of the river. Creepers and ropelike lianas dangled from the branches and trailed in the water; climbing ferns and palms and a host of other plants clinging to the boughs and trunks united them into a solid wall of living green.
Here and there a bright-colored flower glowed brilliantly against the darker background and from the interior of the tangled, matted screen came subdued cries and screams. A flock of green parrots, flying low, passed overhead and then dived into the jungle on the other side and disappeared. There were fully a hundred birds in the party, but they flew two by two, with a peculiar fanning motion of the wings, like a duck’s.
One of the branches on the side nearest the steamer stirred and someone shouted “monkeys.” David looked but saw only the swaying vegetation which moved as if agitated by a gust of wind.
“I am sorry I missed them. I have never seen a wild monkey,” he said.
“You will see plenty of them before long; and not only see but get real well acquainted with them,” Rogers volunteered.
“You mean they are tame and come to the camps in the forests?”
“Not exactly. You will have to live on them.”
“What? Eat monkeys?” David asked in dismay.
“Certainly. Everyone does in the bush. The Indians eat everything—monkeys, crocodiles, snakes and lizards. And if you want to live out in the wilderness you shall have to do as they do because there is no other way out of it. You will be thankful for whatever you find whether you like it or not.”
“But the rivers must be full of fish,” David reminded him.
“They are. Catching them is another proposition though. Besides, there is nothing in the world a white man becomes so tired of as fish if he eats it day after day.”
“Why worry?” David said it bravely, but a sigh escaped him. “If that is the custom here I guess I can get used to it.”
The prospect of having to eat monkeys, as he knew them in the zoo at home, was not a pleasant one and the thoughts that were in his mind were reflected in the expression on his face. Rogers gave him a sharp glance, then walked away; he was finding his task a difficult one.
The first stop was at Pará, and as the steamer carried a quantity of freight for that port and was to remain two days there was ample time for sightseeing ashore.
The feel of solid ground under his feet was very welcome to David; and to enter the low-lying city beside the river was like stepping into fairyland.
How different everything was from the life and living conditions of a temperate clime. Instead of the tall buildings and wide streets bustling with humanity there were blocks of low, white structures, narrow, crooked streets lined with drooping, swaying palms; and the people, of every shade from white to black, seemed to take things in a leisurely manner.
It was warm—disagreeably warm at midday and during the early afternoon hours—but David was too interested in his surroundings to take much note of the heat. He tramped the streets and tried to see everything that unfolded itself before his eyes.
The flaming Jacaranda trees that thrust themselves upon one’s notice through the sheer boldness of their beauty fascinated him. Not extremely tall but with wide-spreading branches they looked like enormous bouquets so thickly were they covered with purplish flowers with only an occasional tuft of fern-like leaves to enhance their beauty.
There were palms without number. Some grew tall and stately with crowns of gracefully drooping leaves; others had bent, spiny stems; and still others had shocks of ragged, split leaves perched on the top of thick, ringed trunks.
A curio store just off the main thoroughfare attracted David’s attention and after gazing at the display in the windows for some time he decided to investigate the mysteries inside so forcefully suggested by the objects in front. He had always intended to make a collection of butterflies and other things and here was the opportunity to start it. But the door was locked. He tried the door of the next shop; it, too, was bolted. A passing policeman, observing his actions, volunteered the information that everything would be closed until later in the afternoon because the people were taking a nap during the hottest part of the day. And as David strolled down the street he rejoiced that the curio store had been closed, for what could he have done with the butterflies if he had purchased them? They were too fragile to carry around for months in the wilderness; and he would no doubt have the opportunity personally to collect all he wanted at the ranch.
The afternoon being spent, the wanderer went back to the waterfront and boarded the steamer, and remained aboard for the night. There followed another day of sight-seeing, confined principally to the numerous little parks, and then the voyage was resumed up the river.
David remained on deck as the steamer headed up the sluggish, muddy stream and enjoyed the changing vistas of broad expanses of water and the dark green of the vegetation that contrasted sharply with it. Then he went to his cabin to wash up for dinner. And there was Rogers examining a number of souvenirs he had purchased in Pará; a medly array of feather flowers, Indian head-dresses and the skins of birds and snakes was spread on the floor and chairs.
“You still here?” David asked in surprise. He had not seen him since saying good-bye the morning they reached the port, as Rogers had stated that he was going no further than Pará.
“Yes, I am going to stick around a while longer—until we get to Manaos, to be exact,” Rogers replied in a matter-of-fact voice.
“Great! But you changed your mind rather suddenly, didn’t you? I hardly expected to see you again.”
“I did intend to go only to Pará, but I found that my affairs had not been settled. So I have to keep on going. But I do not mind. The trip up the river is interesting.”
“Say, Rogers,” David asked suddenly. “What is your business anyway? I don’t like to be inquisitive; that is why I didn’t ask before now. But I am filled with curiosity.”
“It is of a personal nature; sorry I cannot go into greater detail but that would be violating a confidence,” and Rogers looked embarrassed.
“I see,” David said simply, but he could not get the matter off his mind, try as he would. And to make things worse he could see no reason why Rogers’ affairs should cause him any concern.
To spend six days on the mighty Amazon is an event in any man’s life; to David it was the greatest he had experienced. Each morning when the noise of the deck scrubbers awakened him he jumped from his berth and after dressing hastily went on deck to see the sun rise. On no two mornings was the awe-inspiring spectacle that unfolded itself before his eyes the same in all respects. Sometimes the flaming, angry ball of fire shot up as if from some place of concealment beyond the black wall of forest; once it rose out of the yellow flood, at the foot of a wide path of gold and pink light that danced and sparkled on the wave-crests; and again, there were but fleeting glimpses of shafts of bright light that darted through rifts in the cloud-banks whose edges were aglow with burnished silver.
When the forested banks were visible they always loomed up like dark, impenetrable barriers; but as the light grew stronger the blurred outlines of trees, palms and a thousand points of vegetation gradually became clearer and finally revealed their identity.
The forest enchanted the beholder. It exhaled an air of mystery, the promise of adventure; and at the same time it hurled a bold defiance. “Come, ferret out my secrets, search for my treasures,” it seemed to say, “and I will overwhelm you, engulf you and you will be no more. But come, come, if you dare.”
David read both the invitation and the challenge; and with more determination than ever, he accepted them.
Nothing was seen of the wild life with which the jungle must have been teeming. Perhaps it was because the walls of vegetation were so dense they hid the creatures that lurked within their green depths. Then, too, the river was frequently so wide that the banks could scarcely be distinguished, showing only as low, dark lines in the hazy distance.
Occasionally a flock of ducks passed overhead. There were gulls also, and other waterfowls. But far more numerous were the parrots and great macaws, in large, boisterous companies that winged their way heavily across the wide expanse of water. From a distance the parrots resembled the ducks but there was always the easily noticeable difference, that no matter how large their number, they always flew two by two.
“Where are all the crocodiles?” David asked the captain of the ship one day as the latter stopped beside him at the railing. “And the big water snakes and other things you hear about the Amazon?”
The captain looked at him in an amused manner.
“They are here, that is the crocodiles are, but the water is too high to see them,” he said. “During the dry season the sand bars and islands are covered with them. There are plenty of anacondas, too, but they stay around the banks. So you are going into the interior, I hear!”
“Yes, to a ranch that’s just starting up,” David replied.
“Well, you’ll see all the snakes and other vermin you want, and more too.”
“Fine! I have never been here before and I want to see everything there is to be seen.”
“You had better look fast then, because you won’t stay long. They all go back pretty quick.”
“Not I. I am going into the business for good.”
“That’s what they all say. And I carry them back home on the next boat.”
“You will not carry me back on the next boat, nor on the trip after that either.” David was losing patience.
“If you knew what’s in store for you you wouldn’t even go ashore when we get to Manaos; you would come right back home with me on this trip. And that is what I would advise you to do.”
“Thank you,” and David walked away.
They made short stops at the more important towns along the river, to deliver mail and unload freight.
The waterfront in these places always teemed with dark-skinned natives. Long lines of men, stripped to the waist, were carrying bags of produce to barges moored to the banks, waiting for steamers going downstream. Groups of other men lounged on the docks or came to the ship in row-boats, offering fruit for sale.
David was greatly surprised to see the barges of Brazil nuts that were being transferred to a steamer outward bound. The nuts—he had no idea there were so many in the world, were handled just like coal. They were scooped out of the barges in steam shovels and dumped into the hold of the boat, where they disappeared in the seemingly insatiable, black void. Many were spilled overboard and others rained on the deck, but no one cared.
There were cargoes of rubber, too, large, oblong balls, or thick bricks that must have weighed several hundreds of pounds. But David was to see enough of them later and under less attractive circumstances.
On the sixth day they reached the junction of the Rivers Negro and Solimoes.
“This is the end of the Amazon,” Rogers explained as they gazed at the sweep of the mighty streams.
“The end?” David asked in surprise. “I always thought of the Amazon as a river three or four thousand miles long.”
“The Amazon proper is only about one thousand miles long. But the Solimoes continues on a few thousand more and is in reality the Upper Amazon. Here is a map that shows it.”
He drew a folder out of his pocket and they spread it on the foot of a deck chair.
“See?” Rogers said, “Manaos is ten miles up the Rio Negro which comes from the north-west. The Solimoes comes from the west and has its source near Quito, Peru. It is navigable, too, almost the whole of its length in boats of some kind. As I said, though, you have seen all of the real Amazon. Now, are you satisfied?”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you seen enough?”
“Of the river and country? I should say not. I haven’t even started. What I have seen has only aroused my curiosity and a stronger desire for more. I can hardly wait to get into the interior. Think of what is behind those walls of forest!”
“Mosquitoes, snakes and cannibals.”
“Good! They are just what I want to see.”
Rogers sighed but David did not notice it. He folded the map and put it back into his pocket.
In another hour they had reached Manaos.