CHAPTER LI
MATTHEW AND I CONTINUE THE DISCUSSION, BUT WITH SMALL PROFIT
"Master," begins Matthew, "the Ingas would have us go to their village, which lies, as I take it, among the mountains to the west, nigh that river Meta they have spoken about."
"There need be no hesitation in agreeing to that," says I; "for whether we resolve to make for the north seaboard board or the west, this village lies all in our way."
"You are in the right," says he; "but they would have us stay there."
"That needs no consideration neither," says I; "for we have no mind to become Ingas."
"Not so fast, master; hear me out," says he. "They would have us stay there until they have drawn together their scattered people in such force as we may assault the Portugals, and take one of their ports."
"That is easier said than done, Matthew."
"Ay," says he; "like descending the Baraquan, but with this difference – that in attacking a town we can ascertain pretty fairly what opposition we shall have to encounter, and what force we have to overcome it; while in t'other affair there's no knowing what obstacle may stand in our way, or what accidents of sickness and the like may happen to enfeeble us. Look you, master, the furthest an Englishman has penetrated into Guiana by the Oronoque is a matter of thirty or forty leagues, and that with the succor of lusty fellows well armed with boats and stores; now, what we two men, with no arms but what we can beg of the Ingas, and no stores but what we may carry on our backs, propose to compass is a journey through that same Guiana by untrodden ways and broken waters – a distance of three or four hundred leagues, as I reckon; and with a female, remember. Likewise I would have you reflect that ere we are many months on our way, we shall be overtaken by the rain, when we must seek high ground, or be swept away by the floods and torrents that pour through the valleys. For you and me a month or two of misery, more or less, may count for nothing; but how is the female to stand it, with not a dry thread to her back, and, as like as not, never a bit of shoe to her foot?"
This perspective was terrible enough, and yet, as I saw not overdrawn, but indeed favorable in comparison with the image that presented itself to my mind, of my poor lady falling sick under the hardships of privation, and having no shelter but chilly rocks, no remedy, no comfort, nor any hand to render those services which a woman can only receive from a woman.
"Now, Matthew," says I, "let me hear what you have to say in favor of t'other venture, for I see which song your voice is most in tune for."
"I will say what I think, master," says he, showing greater patience with me than I with him, "for I have no wish you should count me wiser or more foolish than I am. Yet that you may not be disinclined to the Ingas' design by thinking my wishes lead me to set it out in a fairer light than it deserves, I must tell you that I have no relish for meddling with the Portugals. I have seen enough of 'em to satisfy my stomach to the last day of my life, and would rather end my days in a wilderness than under the walls of a town. Anyhow, master, I will try to let you see their project as they laid it out to me. This tribe numbers about a hundred men and boys; females count for nothing. Ten of their number will be left with us in the village; the rest will go out to rouse up other tribes and bring them to their purpose. They will take with them the Portugals' muskets, as a proof of what they have done, and I warrant it will count for something in their inducement that they have for allies a couple of Englishmen who are accustomed to whipping Portugals; for it is certainly in the knowledge of these Indians that we beat them out of Cartagena in years gone by."
"How many Indians do they think to muster in this business?"
"Betwixt three and four hundred, according to the general opinion, and that within a month."
"Say they gather together all that they hope for," says I, "what can a band of naked savages do against a town fortified with guns and defended by trained soldiery, Matthew?"
"In the first place, master, let me tell you, 'tis no inconvenient to fight without clothes in these parts. As for their guns, I doubt if they will ever get a chance of firing at us. We shall take the town by surprise, for these Ingas know how to march easily through the woods by ways unknown to the Portugals. Against the trained soldiery we shall bring ten arquebuses, with good account, I'll answer for it, with galore of bows, blow-guns, and pikes, all wielded by fellows who are fighting for liberty and life."
"Supposing we carry the town, as very probably we may, what then? Unless every soul in the place is massacred the news must be carried to the Portugals, who will lose no time in sending ships and men to recover it. Supposing the Ingas can withstand an assault, how long can they stand out against an organized siege?"
"Why, that's their lookout," says Matthew. "What we have at heart is getting out of Guiana, and it will be odd indeed if we can't get some sort of craft to bear us thence ere the Portugals come down to lay siege to the place."
"What," says I, "would you desert the Ingas after leading 'em into this pitfall?"
"Nay," says he, "'tis their own wish to go there, and they know full well we have no wish to stay."
"Ay," says I; "but did you warn them of the vengeance the Portugals will certainly take? No! On the other hand, with your prating of our prowess on the sea, and the multitude of our ships, and drubbings in store for the Portugals, you may have led them to believe that we should come back with ships and men to help them, which can never be while we stand at peace with the Portugal."
Matthew scratched his head in silence for a minute, and then says he:
"'Twould be a scurvy trick to leave the poor fellows to fight the next battle alone, and that's a fact. If they could only hold their own – or anybody else's."
"But they can not, so we must set our faces against their design."
"I don't mind standing by 'em, master, if you're minded to let me take the responsibility of this business on my own shoulders. I warrant there's not a soul alive in England who remembers me, or would care to see me again."
"And what would become of you, my poor fellow?" says I, touched by the sadness of his speech. "Do you think you could hold the town against the Portugals?"
"No," says he; "but I wager I'd thin down the rascals before they took it from me."
"Come," says I, "let us think of something else, for you must know this can never be."
So I turned my thoughts to the Baraquan, and gloomy enough they were, so that I had not a word to say; but Matthew, though his hopes were dashed, still revolved the Ingas and their design in his mind, as it appeared, for presently, breaking silence, he says:
"I had no notion these Ingas were such a fine set of fellows, which only proves once again that we should never judge of a flock of sheep by the ewes in the pen."
"Why," says I, "did you not find your wives amiable and kind?"
"Ay," says he; "but what does a man want of such trumpery as amiability and kindness?" (As I have tried to show, he was himself remarkable for these qualities.) "Can you tell me anything about these Ingas, master, for I am no schollard?"
"Nor I neither, Matthew," says I. "I know no more of these people than what I have learnt from you and my own limited observation."
"You know enough to perceive they are better than the common ruck of mankind, I warrant," says he, "for they have the bearing and proud carriage of a noble race not used to base practices. For my own part I feel I could trust 'em with my life – as long as they learn nothing to my discredit."
"Ay," says I, "they do seem, as you say, a noble race of men."
"Then what a thousand pities it is," says he, "that they should be hunted from their homes, and worried to death by such a pack of dirty dogs as these Portugals."
I made no reply. Nor did he continue his theme for some time, but strolled beside me in silence, which was odd in him, who was wont to utter his thoughts as they came into his head. Yet I perceived his mind was still occupied, for, taking off his hat for the greater convenience of scratching his head, he would now and again give his thigh a slap with it, muttering occasionally betwixt his teeth, though I could catch no words but "dirty dogs of Portugals," and the like.
CHAPTER LII
MATTHEW LAYS OUT A SCHEME FOR STAYING FIVE YEARS IN THE WILDERNESS
"What a plague it is, master," says Matthew presently – "what a plague it is for a man who has no learning to get a good notion in his mind. Here am I like a young blackbird who feels he has the makings of a sweet song in his head, and yet can do no more than squeak out of tune."
"Nay, then," says I, "do as the blackbird does – strive to sing, and I warrant the tune will come in time."
"Well, master," says he, "to begin with, do you think these Ingas, if they gathered together and made head against the Portugals, might recover themselves some little corner of their territory, where they could live in peace like Christians, and trade with other nations?"
"The difficulty is," says I, "to get them to combine steadfastly for any length of time, for, according to their own showing, they are divided into a hundred tribes, each more or less hostile to the other."
"Why," says he, "that is but the outcome of their misfortunes, for no men are so snappish as those who suffer continual persecution. Do think how ill-tempered and cross-grained a wife will be who has a tyrant for a husband, and how buxom and cheerful she is whose spouse is kind. These poor fellows are fighting for their lives. The Portugals will not trade with them, or suffer others to trade, so that they get no comfort, and are forced to seek subsistence in the woods; then if one finds a good cover of game he must hold it against others in order that he may exist."
"All that is very true," says I; "but how can their case be remedied?"
"By such economy as is practiced among people who have not half their resources. What would become of our peasants, master, if they lived only on what they could find in the woods? Now if these Ingas pitched upon a fertile and healthy valley beyond the range of the Portugals, they might enclose fields and breed creatures for their food; they might till the ground and grow proper fruits and grain, so that they would no longer have to go far afield for game and fight their brethren to hold it."
"And how would you have them till the ground when they have no iron plowshares?"
"As for that, master," says he, "I have seen the earth tilled with a stick in Cornwall; but these might make plowshares of gold if they were so minded."
I laughed at this notion, but bade him go on, seeing this objection was but a trifle.
"Well, master," says he, "I take it, they must have more comfort by this way of living than they now can get; and other tribes, seeing their state, would willingly enough come to partake their contentment. There would still be much lacking to their estate; but by laying their plans carefully, and preparing themselves with arms and leaders, they might in the end take some port from the Portugals, where the country about would give them protection against assault, and so come about to open trade with any nation who wished to take their commodity in exchange for what the Ingas need."
"Hold, Matthew," says I, "what commodity have these Ingas to dispose of?"
"Lord love you, master," says he, "they have that which no other nation ever yet refused – gold! The Ingas, with their knowledge of these mountains, can easily produce you gold by the bushel; while the Portugals, with pain, get it by the thimbleful. And look you, master, once the traders know where they can get gold cheap, they will take means to prevent the Portugals again closing that port. The project may seem wild at the first glance, as many another achievement has looked in the beginning, but is it impossible?"
"It is not impossible," says I; "but the Ingas must be taught."
"To be sure, master. And they are willing enough to learn. All they need is a leader, as appears clearly from their seeking our help against the Portugals."
"Ay," says I, "but where is this teacher to be found?"
"Not a great way off, master. In a word," says he, "you are the man who may save thousands from destruction by the Portugals, and raise up these poor Ingas from misery and despair to happiness and prosperity."
This proposal did fairly take away my breath, and ere it came again for me to speak, Matthew continues: "When I tell the Ingas that you refuse to save yourself by the means they suggest, because they could not hold the town and would suffer disaster, they must needs regard you with respect and admiration, for the virtues they do most prize are sagacity and generosity. Thus will they be well disposed to listen to a scheme for their surer advantage, especially when they know that you will not leave them untill they are in a condition to maintain the independence of the state you have set up."
"And how long do you reckon it will take to carry out your project, Matthew?" says I.
"Why, master, I count we may do a good deal in four or five years."
"Five years!" says I, with a gasp.
"Ay, master; but that's not half the time it would take to get down the Oronoque. And what are five years when you are happily and profitably occupied? Will it be a great joy to you to know that you are redeeming these poor folks?"
"Ay, to be sure," says I; "but Lady Biddy?" For she had been in my mind all this time.
"Why, master, I mistake her ladyship if she is the sort to sit down and cry for farthingales in the midst of wild woods. No, I do rather count upon her entering cheerfully into this business, and teaching the women, as you teach the men, with good result for her pains, and the blessing of every wife and mother that wears a tawny skin."
"Ay," says I, "they could not fail to be happier for her tenderness."
"No, master, nor she for having such a scope for her tenderness. There's many a thing I might teach 'em for I have earned wages as a blacksmith and a carpenter in my time. And if lords, as I have heard, do live to get drunk, to hunt, and go gallanting, then may you live here like the best of 'em; for," says he, dropping into his customary vein of humor, "you may have a score of sweethearts, and not a man to say you nay; hunt without fear of trespassing on another lord's preserves; and 'twill be odd if amongst the blessings of civilization we can not make up some sort of liquor to get drunk on."
CHAPTER LIII
MY CONSCIENCE GETS THE BETTER OF DESIRE, AND A BIRD BRINGS GREAT JOY TO MY DEAR LADY
"Master," says Matthew, "let us try and snatch a wink of sleep, for 'tis late, and the Ingas are early risers. Moreover, we shall do well to see how this design appears in the daylight, for I have known many a scheme that wore an excellent complexion overnight – like certain females – not worth two straws in the morning. Indeed," adds he, "we might with advantage keep this business to ourselves and say not a word of it to any one until we know these Ingas better, and judge whether they are ripe enough or too far gone for preservation."
I could but agree with him in this prudent suggestion, and so we bade each other good-night, and laid ourselves down in a pleasant spot.
But I could not close an eye all the night for considering of this mighty project, and the more I thought about it the more I liked it. Yet was I not so blind but that I perceived the difficulties which lay in the way of one man raising a downtrodden and helpless people into a body of such force as to overthrow the Portugals and hold their own hereafter. I knew I was only an ordinary man, with no special aptitude for governing men; nevertheless I thought that, with Lady Biddy at hand to temper my judgment with her practical good sense, I might yet manage to come out pretty well in the end.
And so all through the night I lay revolving my plans for the future without perceiving the folly of them any more than if I had been reasonably sleeping and these thoughts had taken the form of a dream.
As soon as the Ingas began to stir I roused up Matthew, who was so heavy with sleep that I believe he would have willingly abandoned his scheme of regenerating the Indians on the moment for the sake of another five minutes' doze, and bade him let our friends know at once that we could have nothing to do with their plan of attacking the Portugals.
"Nay," says he, "I'll hold my tongue on that matter until we have decided upon t'other; they will more readily believe in your wisdom if they see you are not in a hurry."
If I had taken these words to heart I might have seen what a fool I was; for here had I settled to take upon myself the most serious responsibility with rather less hesitation than I should have given to swallowing a toadstool.
We journeyed all that day and the next through the mountains, coming a little before nightfall within sight of the river Cauca; but we were still at a prodigious height, so that we were forced to rest there again.
An Inga pointed down to a part of the valley where their village lay, but we could see nothing of it for the woods that lay everywhere about like a thick mat. The sight of these vast unbroken woods took me aback somewhat, for my imagination had figured some gentle grassy slope that would serve as pasturage for our cattle; and Matthew seemed likewise to have fostered a pleasing hope of open country, for turning to me, with a rueful look in his honest face and round eyes, he says —
"Master, I perceive we shall have to go a-felling trees."
"We shall see," says I, putting on an air of indifference; "from this point to be sure, the land looks somewhat encumbered" (he nodded assent), "but we may find elsewhere a space where there are not so many trees."
"I hope to God we may, master," says he, "for, besides that, these trees are mighty big, and most of 'em like any iron and brass for toughness; I doubt if the Ingas have ever a saw or a hatchet to lay our hands to."
We turned away in silence, and I think Matthew was nothing loth to set the subject aside and go to sleep in quiet and peace, for I had kept him awake all the night before laying out my schemes, consulting him as to the building of houses, the digging of water-courses, the setting up of smithies, workshops, and the like – indeed my enthusiasm bore me along to such lengths that towards daybreak I got naught but grunts in reply to my questions, for the fellow, though he continued to keep his body in a sitting posture, could no longer manage to resist sleep. Nor had I grown cool upon this business during the day, but whenever occasion offered to talk with Matthew privily, I pursued the same theme, so that I do truly believe there was nothing left unsaid. Wherefore, as I say, he was in nowise put out by my present silence, but hied him to a remote place where he might lie at full length and sleep with his ears shut.
Going back with the Ingas to where the tents had been set up, we were met by Lady Biddy and Wangapona, who held her hand. The girl ran to her husband's side, and I, taking my lady, led her to the point that overlooked the valley. On the way she laughed merrily as she told me of her endeavor to learn a few Indian words from Wangapona; but being come there she became of a sudden silent, and looked over that immense sweep of wilderness that stretched from our feet right down to the river, and then up to the mighty mountains beyond, in wondrous admiration. And when she spoke, her voice was awed to a low tone.
"How magnificently grand it is, Benet," says she, "and yet how melancholy! These mountains and forests – so old, so grand, so silent – seem to reproach us for spending our little life so lightly."
"Is the reproach merited?" says I; "are we right to spend our lives lightly?"
"Nay," says she; "I can not think it wrong to employ the faculties that are given us for our enjoyment. You would not tear the wings from a butterfly because it is less laborious than the worm that creeps!" Then, turning her wondering eyes over that vast wilderness, she adds sadly, "Sure, these wilds are not for men to live in."
"The Ingas live in the midst of it," says I, pointing down into the valley.
"Then shame on those who have forced them to such an existence," says she, for I had told her how the Portugals had driven them from their cities. Then, with a tender sigh, "Poor souls!" says she, "no wonder they never laugh. The stillness of these mountains and the sadness of the woods have filled their hearts."
These words went home to my conscience; and just as a soap-bubble at the slightest touch will burst – its perfect shape and bright colors, that were a delight to the eye, disappearing in an instant, leaving naught behind but the drop of murky water from which it sprang – so did all those fine colorable hopes in which I had joyed for two whole days and nights vanish quite away at this prick, giving me to contemplate the selfish, paltry motive that gave 'em birth.
I took my lady in silence back to the tent, and, having bidden her good-night, I hied me again in great dejection to the rock, whence the valley looked now more gloomy and awesome than before, for the creeping darkness; and there sitting down I took myself plainly to task. For I did now plainly discern that I had been cheating and deceiving myself with false pretences, with a view to cheating and deceiving my dear Lady Biddy after. Why had I leapt so readily at Matthew's scheme? Not for the sake of the unhappy Ingas, but for my own delight; not because a generous emotion moved me to rescue them from the Portugals, but because of a base and selfish desire to keep Lady Biddy in the wilderness, sundered from her friends and companions by necessity; not to advance the welfare of others, but to stave off the inevitable moment when my lady and I must part forever. Nor could I excuse myself by pleading ignorance of any harmful intention, for surely I must have felt in my heart that this design was not to my lady's advantage, since I had not dared to mention one word of it to her. That in myself was enough to convict me of wickedness.
Looking down into the valley, which had now became a black, unfathomable gulf, I repeated Lady Biddy's words – "These wilds are not for men to live in"; and then again, "Would you tear the wings from a butterfly?" and after that, "Poor souls! no wonder they never laugh." And each phrase was a reproach that did stab my heart like an avenging knife; for I had in my wishes doomed her whom I loved to dwell in this gloom. I had meditated robbing her of all the cheerful delights of youth and liberty. I had planned to silence her merry laughter, and overcast that bright young face with the wan cast of grief and despair.
"Nay," says I, springing up, "I will stay not a day longer in these wilds than I can help. We will go hence. What matter how perilous and wearisome the way if she have hope to strengthen her heart? With God's help I will comfort her pillow every night with some prospect of better fortune on the morrow."
Just at that moment I heard in the woods below the cry of a bird that had often filled Sir Harry and me with amazement and delight (which bird I have since heard called by the Ingas Arara), and this put me in mind how I might dispel from my lady's mind those gloomy thoughts inspired by the sight of the valley; so coming to her tent I scratched gently on one of the mats to know if she were asleep, as I did use to do when we were imprisoned on the pirate ship.
"Is that you, Benet?" says she from within.
"Ay," says I! "if it be not too great trouble, do come hither and listen."
So presently she came out, and no sooner had she stood listening a minute, but she cries in a trembling voice:
"Oh, Benet, 'tis the bell of Falmouth church – hark!"
We stood quite silent again, and there came faintly to our ears, "Dong, dong – dong, dong – dong, dong!" to which we listened till it ceased and came no more.
"What is it, Benet?" says she, not louder than a whisper.
"'Tis but a bird," says I; "but I take it Providence has winged it hither for a promise and sign that ere long you shall hear Falmouth bells again."
"Oh! Benet, Benet," says she, choking with tears of joy, "how good you are!" and with that she pressed my hand and went back to her tent.
"God grant that I be worthier of such esteem," says I to myself in passion.