While thus contending against adverse circumstances, an object came under their eyes that caused a temporary abstraction from their misery. Something strange was lying along the water at the distance of about a quarter of a mile from them. It appeared to be some ten or twelve yards in length, and stood quite high above the surface. It was of a dark brown colour, and presented something the appearance of a bank of dried mud, with some pieces of stout stakes projecting upward. Could it be this? Was it a bank or spit of land?
The hearts of the swimmers leaped as this thought, inspired by their wishes, came into every mind. If land, it could be only an islet, for there was water all around it, that they could perceive. But if so, an islet, if no bigger than a barn-door, would still be land, and therefore welcome. They might stretch their limbs upon it, and obtain a good nights rest, which they had not done since the wreck of the galatea. Besides an islet ever so small if only a sand-bar or bank of mud would be a sort of evidence that the real dry land was not far off.
The dark form at first sight appeared to be close in to the trees, but Munday, standing up in the water, pronounced it to be at some distance from them, between fifty and a hundred yards. As it was evident that the trees themselves were up to their necks in water, it could hardly be an island. Still there might be some elevated spot, a ridge or mound, that overtopped the inundation. Buoyed up by this hope, the swimmers kept on towards it, every eye scanning intently its outlines in order to make out its real character. All at once the projections which they had taken for stakes disappeared from the supposed spot of mud. They had assumed the shape of large wading birds of dark plumage, which, having spread their long, triangular wings, were now hovering above the heads of the swimmers, by their cries proclaiming that they were more astonished at the latter than they could possibly be at them.
It was not until they had arrived within a hundred yards of the object that its true character was declared. Pa Terra ! Munday cried, in a sonorous and somewhat sorrowful voice, as he sank despairingly upon his breast; no island, no bank, no land of any kind. Only a dead-wood !
A dead-wood! repeated the patron, not comprehending what he meant, and fancying from the chagrined air of the Indian that there might be mischief in the thing.
Thats all, master. The carcass of an old Manguba , thats been long since stripped of his limbs, and has been carried here upon the current of the Gapo; dont you see his huge shoulders rising above the water?
Richard
to the water. Fortunately each individual was still in possession of his string of sapucaya-shells; and, sliding down the side of the log, once more they found themselves among the grand gong-like leaves of the gigantic lily.
Chapter Fifty Eight A Log that Wouldnt Roll
The ants were now seen swarming all over it, here and there collected in large hosts, seemingly holding council together, while broad bands appeared moving from one to the other, like columns of troops upon the march! There was scarce a spot upon the surface of the log, big enough for a man to set his foot upon, that was not reddened by the cohorts of this insect army!
How shall we dispossess them? inquired Trevannion.
Shure, said Tipperary Tom, answering as if the appeal had been made to him, cant we sit thim on fire, an burn thim aft the log? Cudnt we gather some dry laves out av the threes, an make a blaze that ud soon consume ivery mothers son av thim?
Nonsense, Tom. We should consume the log, as well as the ants, and then what would be the advantage to us?
Well, thin, iv yez think fire wont do, why cant we thry wather? Lit us thry an drownd thim off the log. Munday sez they cant swim, an iv they cant, shure they must go to the bottom.
How would you do it? asked Trevannion, catching at the idea suggested by the Hibernian.
Nothing asier. Give the did three a rowl over on its back, an thin the antsll get undher the wather; an wont they have to stay there? Lit us all lay howlt on the log, an see iv we cant give the swate craythers a duckin.
Convinced that there was good sense in Toms counsel, swimming back towards the log, they stretched their arms upward, and commenced trying to turn it over. The attempt proved unsuccessful. Partly from the enormous weight of the dead tree, saturated as one half of it was with water, and partly owing to the great buttresses acting as outriggers, they could only turn it about one tenth part of its circumference. It rolled back upon them, at first dipping a little deeper, but afterwards settling into its old bed. They were about to discontinue their efforts when a cry came from Tom, as if some new source of terror had been discovered in the manguba. Soon each and all found an explanation in their own sensations, which were as if they had been sharply stung or bitten by some venomous insect. While shouldering the log in vain endeavours to capsize it, some scores of the ants had been detached from its sides, and fallen upon the bodies of the swimmers. Instead of showing gratitude for this temporary respite from drowning, the spiteful insects had at once imbedded their poisoned fangs in their preservers, as if conscious that they owed all their misfortunes to the intruders who had so rudely disturbed their rest. But when these stray ants that had been stinging them were disposed of, their attention was once more directed towards the manguba, with a still more determinate resolution to repossess what in their eyes was more valuable than a selected log of the finest Honduras mahogany!