Chapter 8

Close to the New World

Our friends at home may rejoice with us, for we are at our goal. We have not ascended the plateau yet, but it lies before us. Professor Summerlee is less persistent in his objections and keeps silence. We are sending home one of our local Indians who is injured, and I am giving this letter to him, with considerable doubts in my mind whether it will ever come to hand.

When I wrote last we were about to leave the Indian village. I have to begin my report by bad news, for the first serious personal trouble (I pass over the incessant bickerings between the Professors) occurred this evening, and might have had a tragic ending. I have spoken of our English-speaking half-breed, Gomez – a fine worker and a willing fellow, but afflicted, I fancy, with the vice of curiosity, which is common enough among such men. On the last evening he seems to have hid himself near the hut in which we were discussing our plans, and, being observed by our huge negro Zambo, who is as faithful as a dog and has the hatred which all his race bear to the half-breeds, he was dragged out and carried into our presence. Gomez whipped out his knife, however, and but for the huge strength of his captor, which enabled him to disarm him with one hand, he would certainly have stabbed him. The matter has ended in reprimands, the opponents have been compelled to shake hands, and there is every hope that all will be well. As to the feuds of the two learned men, they are continuous and bitter. It must be admitted that Challenger is provocative in the last degree, but Summerlee has an acid tongue, which makes matters worse. Last night Challenger said that he never cared to walk on the Thames Embankment and look up the river, as it was always sad to see one’s own eventual goal. He is convinced, of course, that he is destined for Westminster Abbey. Summerlee rejoined, however, with a sour smile, by saying that he understood that Millbank Prison had been pulled down. Challenger’s conceit is too colossal to allow him to be really annoyed. He only smiled in his beard and repeated “Really! Really!” in the pitying tone one would use to a child. Indeed, they are children both – the one wizened and cantankerous, the other formidable and overbearing, yet each with a brain which has put him in the front rank of his scientific age. Brain, character, soul – only as one sees more of life does one understand how distinct is each.

The very next day we did actually make our start on this remarkable expedition on two canoes. All our possessions fitted very easily, and we divided our personnel, six in each. In the interests of peace we put one Professor into each canoe. Personally, I was with Challenger, who was in a great mood, beaming with pleasure. I have had some experience of him in other moods, so I can say it is impossible to be at your ease and to be dull in his company, for one is always in a state of doubt as to what sudden turn his temper may take.

For two days we made our way up a river, dark in colour, but clean, so that one could usually see the bottom. The woods on either side were primeval, and we had no great difficulty in carrying our canoes through them. How shall I ever forget the solemn mystery of it? The height of the trees and the thickness of the trunks that I could have ever imagined… We could dimly see the spot where they threw out their side-branches into Gothic upward curves. As we walked noiselessly stepping on the thick, soft carpet of vegetation, we were spellbound, and even Professor Challenger’s full-chested voice sank into a whisper. Alone, I should have been ignorant of the names of these plants, but our men of science pointed out the cedars, the great silk cotton trees, and the redwood trees. Animal life was rather poor, but a constant movement above our heads told of the world of snakes and monkeys, birds, which lived in the sunshine, and looked down at our tiny, dark figures. At dawn and at sunset the howler monkeys screamed together and the parrots broke into shrill chatter. Once some creature, an ant-eater or a bear, went clumsily in the shadows. It was the only sign of earth life which I saw in this great Amazonian forest.

And yet we felt that human life itself was not far from us. On the third day out we heard a beating in the air, rhythmic and solemn. The two boats were floating when we heard it, and our Indians remained motionless, listening with expressions of terror on their faces.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Drums,” said Lord John, carelessly; “War drums. I have heard them before.”

“Yes, sir, war drums,” said Gomez, the half-breed. “Wild Indians; they watch us every mile of the way, kill us if they can.”

“How can they watch us?” I asked, gazing into the dark.

“The Indians know. They have their own way. They watch us. They talk the drum talk to each other. Kill us if they can.”

By the afternoon of that day at least six or seven drums were beating from various points. Sometimes they beat quickly, sometimes slowly, sometimes in obvious question and answer. There was something nerve-shaking and menacing in that constant mutter, “We will kill you if we can. We will kill you if we can.” No one ever moved in the silent woods. All the peace of quiet Nature lay in that dark curtain of vegetation, but away from behind there came the message from our fellow-man. “We will kill you if we can,” said the men in the east. “We will kill you if we can,” said the men in the north.

Their menace reflected in the faces of our coloured companions. I learned, however, that both Summerlee and Challenger possessed that highest type of bravery, the bravery of the scientific mind. It is decreed by a merciful Nature that the human brain cannot think of two things simultaneously, so that if it is devoted to science it has no room for other personal considerations. All day our two Professors watched every bird and every plant and argued a lot, with no sense of danger as if they were seated together in the smoking-room of the Royal Society’s Club in St. James’s Street.

About three o’clock in the afternoon we came to a very dangerous rapid, in which Professor Challenger had suffered disaster on his first journey. Before evening we had successfully passed the rapids, and made our way some ten miles above them, where we stayed for the night. At this point we had come not less than a hundred miles up the tributary from the main stream.

In the morning Professor Challenger started scanning each bank of the river. Suddenly he gave an exclamation of satisfaction and showed us a tree.

“What do you make of that?” he asked.

“It is an Assai palm,” said Summerlee.

“Exactly. It was an Assai palm which I took for my landmark. The secret opening is half a mile onwards upon the other side of the river. There is no break in the trees. That is my private gate into the unknown. Come on and you will understand.”

It was indeed a wonderful place. Having reached the spot marked by a line of light-green rushes, we carried two canoes through them, and found ourselves in a quiet stream, running clear over a sandy bottom. No one could possibly have guessed the existence of such a stream.

It was a fairyland… The most wonderful that the imagination of man could conceive. The thick branches met over our heads, creating a tunnel, in a golden twilight flowed a beautiful river. Clear as crystal, motionless as a sheet of glass. It was an avenue to a land of wonders.

All sign of the wild Indians had passed away, animal life was more frequent, everything showed that they knew nothing of the hunter. Little black-velvet monkeys, with snow-white teeth and gleaming eyes, chattered at us as we passed. Once a dark, clumsy tapir stared at us from a gap in the bushes, and then went away through the forest; once we saw a great puma, its green, eyes glared hatred at us over its shoulder. Bird life was in abundance, while beneath us the crystal water was alive with fish of every shape and color.

For three days we made our way up this tunnel of hazy green sunshine. The deep peace of this strange waterway was unbroken by any sign of man.

“No Indian here. Too much afraid. Curupuri,” said Gomez.

“Curupuri is the spirit of the woods,” Lord John explained. “It’s a name for any kind of devil. They think that there is something terrible in this direction, and therefore they avoid it.”

On the third day the stream was rapidly growing more shallow. Finally we pulled the boats up among the brushwood and spent the night on the bank of the river. In the morning Lord John and I made our way for a couple of miles through the forest, keeping parallel with the stream; but as it grew ever shallower we returned and reported that the canoes could not be brought any more. We concealed them among the bushes, leaving a landmark with our axes, so that we could find them again. Then we distributed the various burdens among us – guns, ammunition, food, a tent, blankets, and the rest – and, shouldering our packages, we began the more challenging stage of our journey.

On the second day after leaving our canoes we found that the whole character of the country changed. Our road was mainly upwards, the woods became thinner and lost their tropical view. The huge trees of the alluvial Amazonian plain gave place to coco palms with thick brushwood between.

On the ninth day after leaving the canoes, the trees had grown smaller until they were mere shrubs. Their place was taken by an immense wilderness of bamboo, which grew so thickly that we could only penetrate it by cutting a pathway with the machetes and billhooks of the Indians. It took us a long day, travelling from seven in the morning till eight at night, with only two breaks of one hour each, to get through it. Anything more monotonous and wearying could not be imagined. Several times we heard some large, heavy animals quite close to us. From their sounds Lord John judged them to be some form of wild cattle. Just as night fell we formed our camp, exhausted after the long day.

Early next morning we were again afoot, and found that the character of the country had changed once again. Behind us was the wall of bamboo, in front was an open plain, with clumps of tree-ferns, the whole curving before us until it ended in a long ridge. It was here, where an incident occurred which may or may not have been important.

Professor Challenger stopped suddenly and pointed excitedly to the right. As he did so we saw, at the distance of a mile or so, something which appeared to be a huge gray bird took wing, flying very low and straight, until it was lost among the tree-ferns.

“Did you see it?” cried Challenger. “Summerlee, did you see it?”

His colleague was staring at the spot where the creature had disappeared.

“What do you say that it was?” he asked.

“A pterodactyl.”

Summerlee burst into laughter “Nonsense!” said he. “It was a stork.”

Challenger was too furious to speak. He simply swung his pack upon his back and continued upon his march. Lord John came up to me, with his face grave. He had his binoculars in his hand.

“I focused it before it got over the trees,” said he. “I cannot say what it was, but I’ll risk my reputation as a sportsman that it wasn’t any bird that I have ever seen in my life.”

Are we really just at the edge of the unknown? I give you the incident as it occurred and you will know as much as I do.

When we had crossed the second ridge we saw before us an irregular, palm-studded plain, and then the line of high red cliffs which I have seen in the picture. There it lies, even as I write, and there can be no question that it is the same. Challenger walks about like a peacock, and Summerlee is silent, but still sceptical. Another day should bring some of our doubts to an end. Meanwhile, Jose, whose arm was pierced by a broken bamboo, insists on returning. And I send this letter back in his charge, and only hope that it may eventually come to hand. I will write again.