The Ocean Cat's Paw Part 58

"And if we don't?" said Rodd.

"Why, then we shall anchor, and find plenty of good holding ground."

The tide carried them in rapidly, and a nice soft breeze filled the sails, bearing them onward till the mangrove swamp on either hand began to close in rapidly, while towards evening they were gliding where the banks were about a mile apart, and just at sunset muddy patches began to make their appearance, upon which Rodd noticed three times over, portions of the rugged trunks of trees that had been denuded of every branch as they floated down with the stream.

All at once, just where the mud glistened ruddily in the rays of the setting sun, Rodd started, for a thick stumpy tree trunk suddenly began to move gently, then glided a few feet over the mud, and finally went into the river with a tremendous splash.

"Why, what's that?" cried Rodd excitedly.

"Croc," grunted the skipper gruffly. "Thousands of them along here."

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

HOW TO GET BACK?

"Almost as bad as you tacking out of the harbour, Morny," said Rodd that evening, as the two vessels glided up the rapidly narrowing and greatly winding river.

"Oh no," replied the French lad. "There is no tremendous storm of wind blowing, threatening to tear the sails to ribbons, no soldiers in boats using their muskets, no big guns sending heavy b.a.l.l.s from the forts."

"No," said the skipper, who had overheard the remarks; "not a bit like it, Mr Rodd. It is rather awkward work, though, and we have to be always on the dodge, else the next thing would be we should go ramming our noses right in the muddy banks and getting stuck fast; and that wouldn't do."

"Oh, you would get off again next tide," said Rodd carelessly.

"Mebbe," said the skipper. "As the old country chaps at home say, we mought and we moughtn't."

"Look, Morny," cried Rodd. "There's another of those great crocs. What a thick one! Why, that one must be five-and-twenty feet long."

"Fourteen," grunted the skipper.

"No, no; it must have been twenty," cried Rodd.

"Fourteen, outside," growled the skipper. "How can you tell when you only catch sight of them on the move?"

"Well, it was a tremendous thickness," said Rodd.

"Ay, it was thick enough, and heavy enough; and they are stronger than horses. And just you look here, youngster, while we are up this river, where I dare say they swarm, you had better keep your eyes open, for those chaps will pull a deer or a bullock into the water before the poor brute knows where it is, and as to human natur', they lie waiting close to the banks for the poor n.i.g.g.e.rs, men, women or children, who come down to get water, and they nip them off in a moment."

"Ugh! Horrible!" cried Rodd.

"Yes, and what made me speak to you was that we are going to settle down for a bit up here in the forest where the sun will be very hot, and where there'll be no end of great shady trees hanging over the river side and seeming to ask folks to jump in and have a nice cooling swim."

"I say, captain!"

"Oh, I'm not laughing at you, my lads," said the skipper sharply. "When we are lying moored or at anchor up here it's just the sort of thing that you might make up your minds to do without saying a word to anybody. I know I should have done so when I was your age. But I just say to you now solemn like--don't you do it. For if there's anything one of these great reptiles likes it's a nice clean French or English boy."

"Oh, come now," cried Rodd merrily, "you don't call that talking solemn like, captain?"

A grim smile dawned upon the old sailor's countenance.

"Well, no," he said; "but I mean it solemn like. I don't suppose one of they crocs would study about what colour it was, but they go for anything that's alive and moving, hold on with those great teeth of theirs, and whatever it is they catch, it's soon drowned when it's pulled below, and never heard of again.--Starboard, my lads!

Starboard!" he shouted, with both hands to his mouth, and the schooner curved round and went off on another tack in obedience to the helm.--"It's rather an awkward job, my lads," continued the skipper.

"You see, we have to sail to all points of the compa.s.s, and one minute you have got the wind blowing gently fair and free from right ahead or dead astarn, and the next you are going into shelter and got no wind at all."

"But we keep on going steadily up the river, captain," said Rodd.

"Yes, my lad; we have got this strong tide in our favour. I am reckoning that if we drop anchor soon we shall be able to get as far as we want next tide."

"But how far do you mean to go?" asked Morny anxiously.

"Oh, a good way up yet," replied the skipper.

"But why not keep on now?" asked Rodd.

"Because I want to pick a good berth before the dark comes down and catches and leaves us nohow. Got any more questions to ask?"

"Hundreds," cried Rodd merrily.

"Humph! Then I think I ought to have my pay raised. I joined the _Maid of Salcombe_ to sail her, not to give you lessons in jography, etymology, syntax, and prosody, as it used to say in my lesson book when I was a little 'un."

"Ah, well, I won't bother you any more to-day, captain," said Rodd; "only one always wants to know what things are when they are quite fresh."

Captain Chubb did not answer for the moment, for he had to shout another order to the steersman and make two or three signals with his hand to those on board the brig, which was following in the schooner's track, keeping as close as it could to be safe.

At the end of five minutes, though, he had returned to his old position, and grunted out with a look as if he wanted to be questioned more--

"Well, I suppose such youngsters as you like to know."

Then all at once he shouted out a fresh order, which was followed by the rattling out of the cable through the hawse-hole as the anchor splashed and went down to a pretty good depth before the rope was stopped, one order having acted for both vessels, and just before dark they swung round head to stream, with the water lapping loudly against their bows.

"That's enough for one day," grunted the captain. "Safe and snug a harbour as any one could wish to be in, and there's the trees, you see, on both sides, good, sound, solid forest trees such as would cut up into fine timber, and all the mangroves left far enough behind."

In a remarkably short time, as the two lads stood watching the sh.o.r.es, the forest on either side grew intensely black, and though the steward announced that the evening meal was ready, no one seemed disposed to go below, for, succeeding to the solemn evening silence, they seemed to be surrounded by strange sounds from the depths of the forest as well as from the river, whose current began to grow sluggish, suggesting that before long the tide would be at its height, and ready to turn with the rushing of the water outward to the sea.

"Why, it's awful," said Morny, in a subdued tone, as he stood with Rodd gazing at the nearest sh.o.r.e.

"Yes, not very nice," replied Rodd. "You and your father had better stop on board here to-night."

"Oh no. Our boat is hanging astern. We shall go back."

Rodd thought that he should not like to attempt to row from vessel to vessel in the darkness of such a night, for something seemed to suggest to him the possibility of being swept out to sea; but he did not say so, for fear of making his companion nervous, and they stood listening and whispering together, trying to give names to some of the uncouth noises which floated to their ears.

Many were sharp quick splashes as if some great fish had sprung out of the water in pursuit of prey, or in a desperate effort to escape a pursuer. Then every now and then there would be a resounding slap, as if one of the great reptiles that haunted the river had struck the surface a tremendous blow with its tail.

"What's that?" asked Rodd, directly after, as a low, deep, mournful sound came from amongst the trees upon the sh.o.r.e, sounding like a piteous cry for help from some woman in distress.

This was succeeded by a painful silence, and then Rodd raised his voice--