In Search of El Dorado Part 21

"Go down to the camp, Stewart," I said, "and fetch a camel pack-rope and my rifle. Phil and I will make the best of things till you come back."

Forgetful alike of the burning rock and the sharp-edged rubble, he slid down the smooth declivity, and made a wild burst for the foot of the hill. Almost immediately the many-barbed spears of the aborigines bore into view from the opposite side of the dome, and we laid ourselves flat on the curving wall and breathlessly waited events. Slowly a weird procession filed on to the elevated platform, and continued a solemn march around the well-trod channel which had first claimed our attention. Round and round they circled, clashing their spears and shields, and swaying their lithe black bodies drunken-like. Then suddenly they broke out into a dismal chant, and quickened their step into a half-run, ludicrous to behold. It was soon evident to us that the warrior band had not come to level their spears against us; they never once glanced in our direction. Their gaze was apparently fixed on the ancient crater in which Mac lay entombed. They had come to worship the great spirit w.a.n.gul, the dreaded "Dweller in the Waters."

The _denouement_ of this interesting ceremonial was rapid and unexpected. Just when the reeling warriors had ceased their vocal exercise from sheer want of breath, when the ensuing silence was broken only by the pattering of many feet on the sun-baked lava, a hoa.r.s.e voice thundered up from subterranean caverns, and at the sound the poor nomads halted in their mad career, and gazed at each other terror-stricken.

"Babba, w.a.n.gul, Moori!" they cried shrilly, "Babba, w.a.n.gul, Moori!"

("The Water G.o.d speaks"). Again a sonorous echo reverberated up from the heart of the mountain, completing their demoralisation. A moment they hesitated, then, dashing their warlike arms to the ground, and tearing the feathers from their hair, they fled madly back whence they had come.

Phil gave a gasp of relief, and I felt thankful beyond expression. Then we quickly made our way through the litter of discarded weapons towards the w.a.n.gul's home. The words that floated to our ears when we gazed into the depths were sulphurous in the extreme. Poor Mac could not understand why he had been so ruthlessly neglected, and his complaints were deep and eloquent.

"Stewart, ye red-heided deevil, are ye goin' to pu' me oot, or are ye no?" he howled in righteous indignation, and I was glad that the individual named, who just then came swarming over the rocks, puffing tempestuously, had not heard the fervent malediction bestowed upon his faithful person. He approached laden with the whole armoury of the expedition, the perspiration streaming from his face, and his gaunt frame trembling visibly.

"I thought ye had been all slauchtered," he muttered, subsiding behind his equipment, "an' I wis goin' to hae revenge."

With the aid of the stout camel-ropes we soon raised our dripping comrade to the surface. As he approached the light of day I noticed that his rugged old face bore a distinctly grim expression, as if he was of the opinion that we had been having a huge joke at his expense; but when he heard of what had occurred, and the part he had unwittingly played in the ceremonial, resentment gave place to mirth, and he laughed uproariously.

"An' here's the rubies, Stewart, my man," he said, extracting the precious stones from some secret corner of his bedraggled wardrobe; "I got them safe efter a', and you shall have the finest are o' the collection for yer maist splendifferous efforts on my behalf."

Soon after we returned to camp, but it was many days later when we said goodbye to the lonely mountain which Mac persisted in misnaming El Dorado.

[Ill.u.s.tration: EL DORADO!]

WHERE THE PELICAN BUILDS ITS NEST

There is little need to recount the monotonous details of my log-book for the many weeks that ensued. The same description applies to nearly all the vast interior country, and we struggled over ironshot sand-plains and through scraggy brushwood belts, with rarely a diversion in the landscape to gladden our weary eyes. The sun shines on no more desolate or dreary country than this great "Never Never" land of Australia, whose grim deserts have claimed many a victim to the cause of knowledge. The explorer's life amid the deadly solitudes is not one of many pleasures. Rather do unpleasant possibilities for ever obtrude upon his jaded brain until he is well-nigh distraught, or at least reduced to a morbid state of melancholy in keeping with his miserable surroundings.

Little wonder, therefore, that disaster so often attends the traveller in these lonely lands. The strongest will becomes weakened by the insidious influences of the country, and the most buoyant spirit is quickly dulled. All Nature seems to conspire against him. The stunted mallee and mulga shrubs afford no welcome shade; they dot the sand-wastes in endless even growths, and the eye is wearied by their everlasting motionless presence. The saltbush clumps and spinifex patches conceal hideous reptiles. Snakes and centipedes crawl across the track; scaly lizards, venomous scorpions, ungainly bungarrows, and a host of nameless pests, are always near to torture and distract. Even the birds are imbued with a solemnity profound that adds still more to the plenteous cares that already overwhelm the wanderer in the silent bushland. The pelican stands owlishly in his path as if to guard from intrusion its undiscovered home; the horrible carrion crow with its demoralising croak is for ever circling overhead; and the mopoke's dull monotone is as a calling from a shadowy world.

These various influences were not without their effect upon my little party, and we became strangely silent as we kept up our dogged march of fifteen miles each day; and when danger threatened, as it did on more than one occasion, we almost viewed our approaching fate with indifference, so sodden had our mental faculties become. Eleven days after leaving the mountain, our last horse, "Sir John," dropped quietly to the ground, utterly exhausted, and at once the air was filled with screaming crows, and flies in thousands began to settle on the dying animal's heaving flank, and crowded into his ears and nostrils. I ended the poor brute's agony with a revolver shot, and again old "Slavery"

received additional burden; then we hastened onwards, not daring to look back.

We were now many hundreds of miles from any outpost settlement, and with only two camels between us and--eternity. Yet these ponderous animals bore up bravely, seldom showing signs of weakness even when crossing the most dismally arid wastes, and their slow but sure movement raised our drooping spirits when our circling crow convoy became suggestively daring. I made a course due north, determined to intersect any promising country that might intervene in the middle lat.i.tudes, but so far our changed route had led us full three hundred miles over the most barren-looking desert that could possibly be imagined.

Only once did we observe natives, and that was when under the 23rd Parallel, in a scrubby country offering the only inducement to the poor nomads within a hundred miles. At this place we located a local well containing, seemingly, an unlimited supply of lime-flavoured fluid; our perilously-flat water-bags were thankfully refilled, and our hopes rose high at the unexpected find. But when we renewed our march the scrub-land soon merged into the blistering plain, and our dreams of a coming El Dorado were again rudely dashed.

On one occasion we encountered a stretch of salt-crusted country, evidently the bed of an ancient lake: it extended for five miles in a N.N.E. direction, and towards its latter extremity the surface was marshy and damp. We extracted sufficient moisture from the muddy basin for cooking our usual allowance of rice, so that we might save what remained of our comparatively fresh supply for more urgent needs.

Beyond this swamp we entered upon a more broken expanse than had met our view for many weeks. Decaying sandstone rocks reared their heads above the gravel, and enormous dry gullies tore up the ground in all directions. But this state of affairs did not continue with us long, and, as if by a grim law of compensation, a belt of the most miserable sand country soon intervened to r.e.t.a.r.d our progress. Here the sand was loose and deep, and unmixed with the usual iron gravel; and the slightest wind blew the fine dust into our faces, almost blinding us. We sank over the ankles at each step, and the camels slowed their already slow march to a mere crawl, and staggered and floundered in the wavy ma.s.ses.

Gradually the land-surface took on the appearance of a great sand-sea, with billows rolling back in a northwesterly direction. As far as the eye could reach, a series of gentle undulations rippled into the vast distance. I altered the course several points to eastward, and we traversed the disheartening obstacles at a difficult angle; but the undulations grew more general as we advanced, until they surrounded us in the form of seemingly endless furrows, about a hundred and fifty yards apart, and from ten to fifteen feet in height. A spa.r.s.e vegetation of spinifex found root in the hill-crests, giving the appearance--from a distance--of a huge cultivated and well-tended field. But on closer acquaintance the ridges showed up miserably bare and cheerless, and their white gleaming sand formation caused our eyes to quiver and close, so trying was the light reflected from them. No life of any kind was observed. Even the crows had abandoned us. We seemed to be traversing the bed of an ocean whose waters had long since subsided. A day's march over these hindering obstructions, however, led us into the familiar ironshot and scrub country, which, desolate though it was, looked cool and inviting after our experience with the sand elevations.

More than once after this fortune favoured us opportunely by the happy location of a soak or claypan in our course, and we grew to trust Providence in a much greater measure than we had ever antic.i.p.ated. The weather was almost unbearably hot; a vertical sun stared down on us in the daytime with burning intensity, and at night the air was as the breath of Hades. We were surely paying the penalty of the pioneer to the full.

By this time our clothing had reached a state far beyond repair, and we must have formed an extraordinarily dilapidated-looking quartet. Our garments, not very lavish from the start, had been discarded in tattered portions, and we were left with cool and scanty apparel, the sight of which would have caused the most abandoned tramp to turn aside in disgust. It came to be a subject of jocularity with us as we noted the gradual disintegration of our meagre remaining sartorial glory; and I was glad even for such an excuse to introduce the lighter vein into our conversation. "I'll shin be able tae flee," Mac would say, ruefully surveying his rags. "Ay, Mac, the wings are sproutin' awfu' fast," his comrade would sorrowfully reply. "Bit it's a blessin' the weather's no cauld," he never failed to add, with philosophical grat.i.tude.

We were reaching an extreme northerly lat.i.tude, with the great central deserts behind us, and though we had been bitterly disappointed with the non-auriferous country crossed, yet the thought of emerging safely from the "Never Never" land for the time took the place of vain regrets and cheered us on to fresh endeavour. We had found no El Dorado in the blistering salt plains; the Land of Promise had eluded us completely--if such a land existed. Our time, it is true, had been more taken up in searching for water than prospecting for gold; still, we took occasion to a.n.a.lyse samples of every probable gold-bearing patch encountered, but always with insignificant result.

One morning we found ourselves in the unenviable position of having but a few pints of water left in the canvas bags, and as we had located no soak for over a week, our immediate future seemed gloomy indeed. The camels were for the first time showing signs of collapse; and little wonder; they had gone eight days without a drink, and their load, since the last of the horses had succ.u.mbed, had been unduly heavy.

"We've got to find water to-day, boys," I said, "or something serious is bound to happen."

Mac chuckled dryly. "The deil aye tak's care o' his ain," he announced with an effort at pleasantry; and Stewart cackled harshly in agreement.

Soon after breakfast, Phil, in surveying the landscape by the aid of his field-gla.s.ses--a very cherished possession--detected in the distance a long, curling column of smoke, sure evidence of the aborigines'

presence, and at once our hearts became lighter and our waning strength renewed. "There must be moisture of some sort about," I said to Phil, as we staggered along together in the wake of the camels. "The country is changing for the better," he replied, "yet I can scarcely imagine a spring to exist in any such soft sand formation." The vagaries of the interior plains had always mystified him, but he could not be brought to reason against his geological principles.

Mac's verdict was borne of a more practical kind of observation. "Fur ony sake haud yer tongue aboot furmashuns, Phil," he shouted back from his position by the side of "Slavery." "A black buddie needs a drink as weel as a white buddie, an' we'll shin be in the land o' Goschen noo."

"There's one thing we had best remember, boys," I said. "The natives in these lat.i.tudes are probably very different from those in the south.

They may be cannibals, and considerably more hostile than any tribe we have yet met."

"n.i.g.g.e.rs!" snorted Mac and Stewart almost simultaneously, with an indescribable inflection of contempt. Further words failed them, but I could see that they had completely forgotten the little episode at El Dorado.

Towards noon we arrived at the point where the smoke had been seen, but only a few charred logs were now in evidence, and they were scattered about in the sand as if they had been partially burnt long previously, and afterwards half submerged in the drifts caused by many seasons'

willie-w.i.l.l.i.e.s. The natives had vanished in some unaccountable manner, leaving not a trace of their recent presence in the vicinity. Far off near the horizon a thick belt of timber stretched across our track, but beyond that again the bare desert merged into the skyline.

"Whaur hae the black deevils gaun to?" Mac demanded indignantly, as if a considerable breach of etiquette had been committed by the rapid flight of our prospective hosts.

Then Stewart proceeded to poke among the scattered ashes, and soon discovered several still glowing logs well sunk beneath the surface.

"Mac," said he solemnly, when we cl.u.s.tered round to examine his find, "we'll hae tae ca' canny; the deevils are no defeecient in strategy, an'

it's plain they dinna want oor guid company."

Stewart was right; the blacks must have observed our approach, and being unwilling to meet us, had hastily decamped, first taking care to cover up any clue that might have aroused our curiosity. "That field-gla.s.s of yours has done good work, Phil," I said, when we turned away. "If you had not noticed the smoke we should never have dreamed that there had been any one here for at least a year, and goodness knows what might have happened if we had gone to sleep in this district without keeping a watch."

Mac chirruped to his patient charge. "Gee up, Slavery," said he, "ye'll get a drink the nicht."

In spite of our most strenuous efforts, however, we were unable to reach the timber belt that day, and darkness closed over and compelled us to camp while we were yet a good way out in the open. For the last several miles the camels had literally to be dragged over the ground by a constant pressure on their nose ropes, and when we halted our weary caravan and unloaded the suffering beasts, they sank upon their knees breathing heavily, and made no attempt to search for anything to eat. It was plain that, should another day pa.s.s without water being discovered, our four-footed companions must give up the struggle, which in turn would mean that we should all be doomed to a most unenviable fate.

"Ma puir animile," said Mac, stroking "Slavery's" quivering nostrils, "ye've been nine days withoot a drink, but ye'll get a' ye can tak' the morn."

"Slavery" seemed almost to understand the sympathetic words, and grunted feebly in reply; then I was surprised to see him struggle to his feet and proceed to feed on the spinifex tufts growing around.

"He kens I'm tellin' the truth!" shouted Mac delightedly; and there was much joy among us when "Misery," determined not to be outdone, after several efforts succeeded in rising shakily and joining his neighbour.

"There's life in auld 'Misery' yet," applauded Stewart with hearty satisfaction; and the wonderful endurance shown by the dumb animals made me somewhat ashamed of my own collapsing resolution.

"Let's be happy, boys," counselled Phil in most lugubrious tones. "Life is short, you know, and we'll be a long time dead."

"If I hear ony mair o' they on-comfortable re-marks," slowly spoke Mac, with a reproachful glance at the last speaker, "I'll sing ye the Deid March. A lang time deid, did ye say? For ony sake, Phil, think on something cheery."

"All right, Mac," retorted Phil. "I'll think of the feast we're going to have in the Hotel Cecil when we get back to civilisation." While he spoke he unconsciously hitched in his belt another hole.

Then Stewart's voice rasped out dismally, "There's ... nae ... place like ... hame----"

"Stop that concert!" I cried, while Phil squirmed in agony; but Mac had already seized the throat of the musician in a relentless grip, and the melancholy refrain spluttered out spasmodically to a finish.

"Ye on-ceevilised backslider!" Mac roared in righteous wrath. "Hoo daur ye whine aboot hame in sic a menner? Fur twa peens," he concluded, with rising ferocity--"fur twa peens, ma man, A'd shak' yer teeth oot!"