Jungle and Stream: or, The Adventures of Two Boys in Siam

The scene was very beautiful, with the star-studded, clear, dark, sky above, and the reflection as it were of another star-spangled heaven in the smooth, gliding water at their feet, while the myriads of fire-flies suggested the existence of another intermediate star sphere in constant motion, now scintillating, now dying out, and again as if floating along the opposite shore like a low cloud of tiny orbs, golden-green, golden, pale lambent, and occasionally ruddier than Aldebaran or some kindred star.

There was less disposition for sitting up talking that night, and soon after the fire was well replenished, and its necessity made plain.

Phra was the first to call attention to the distant cry, which was exactly that of some enormous cat far away in the jungle.

"Calling his mate," said Mr. Kenyon.

"Perhaps the tiger whose tracks Sree saw in the soft mud this evening," said Harry. "I suppose he will not come near our fire, or try to get on board. Think we ought to keep watch, father?"

"Oh no, my boy. We are floating out here a good thirty feet from the land."

"But suppose the boat drifts to the side in the night?" suggested

Phra.

"It is not probable, for we are right where the stream sets off the shore. We are not likely to be disturbed, boys. There is the proof."

Mr. Kenyon pointed to where the men had spread the mats over the horizontal bamboo, and were settling down to sleep.

"Yes, that is a pretty good sign," said the doctor; "the men would not take matters so coolly if there were any danger from tigers."

"Did the Sahibs hear the big tiger calling?" said Sree, thrusting his head out from beneath the men's awning.

"Yes, quite plainly," said Harry. "Think he'll come prowling about the fire, so as to give us a shot?"

"No, no, Sahib," replied the man, shaking his head; "he will be too careful."

"That was a clever way of putting it, Hal," said the doctor drily. "You did not say, Is there any fear of the tiger's swimming out to us?"

"No; why should I tell him that I was a bit nervous?" replied Harry frankly; "even if one does feel a bit scared, I can't help it, can I, father?"

"No, my boy; it is quite natural to feel a little nervous, and to make sure that one's gun is loaded and close at hand. But we must get used to these noises. We can't expect to come out here and live in such a wild place without being a bit startled sometimes. Good-night, boys. But you have not fastened down that mat to shut out the night air."

"Just going to, father," replied Harry. "I don't think, though, that we shall have so much mist here."

The final good-nights were said just as the last murmurs of the men's conversation forward died out, and then all was still, the darkness being relieved by the rays from the fire, which crackled and burned merrily, the light coming quite brightly at times through the interstices of the mats, and then, as the smoke rolled up decreasing again; while after shifting his position to get into a more comfortable attitude, Harry Kenyon drew a long, deep breath, with a touch of a yawn in it, and then told himself that he did not mean to feel in the slightest degree nervous about the strangeness of their position, but was going to have a good, long night's rest.

CHAPTER XIX

A NIGHT ALARM

Sleep comes and sleep goes, and always seems beyond our control. Sometimes the weary one drops off soundly the moment his head has been comfortably settled upon the pillow; at other times, however tired he may have been before going to bed, the very fact of having undressed has so thoroughly wakened him up that the object for which he has come to bed has been completely banished.

It was so with Harry Kenyon in some respects that night. He had not undressed, and he had not gone to bed, only made himself as comfortable as he could on a mat pillow two thwarts of the boat, using his hand as a pillow.

As comfortable as he could! but it was not very comfortable, for the bottom of the boat was as hard as the one quill which the Irishman put beneath him to try what sleeping on a feather-bed was like. There was too much light in the open cabin, and he could hear the ping-wing of mosquitoes above him in the roof.

He shut his eyes tightly, but every now and then he could see that his eyelids looked translucent. The water was making quite a loud, rushing noise against the sides of the boat, and the barkings, croakings, and indescribable noises from jungle and river-bank seemed to be increasing minute by minute.

Harry shifted his position a little, and then felt annoyed, for close at hand he could hear a steady, deep breathing which he knew was his father's, and from just beyond, another deep respiration with a faint buzz in it, which was evidently the doctor's breath coming and going through his big, thick, ruddy-brown moustache.

"Why can't I go to sleep like that?" muttered the lad. "I'm just as tired as they are, and yet I feel as if I were going to lie awake all night."

Harry uttered a sound very strongly resembling the grunt of one of the lower animals, and then resettled himself.

"Now I will go to sleep," he muttered.

But a quarter of an hour must have passed, and he was as wakeful as ever, while he was quite sure that he had heard the low, mournful cry of the tiger very near.

"Asleep, Phra?"

No answer.

"Phra! the tiger's coming quite near."

This in a whisper, but there was no response, for Phra was sleeping soundly.

"Oh, how hot it is! I can't hardly breathe," muttered Harry; "and there are those wretched old Siamese snoring under the mat forward as if they were doing it on purpose to keep me awake. – Wish I could get up and go for a walk. – How stupid! It's mad enough to go for a walk when it's broad daylight. I know it's impossible, and yet I get wishing such an idiotic thing as that. – Might sit up and open the mat, though, and watch the fire-flies.

"What stuff," he said to himself the next moment; "who's going to sit up all night watching fire-flies dancing about like sparks in tinder? Besides, if I opened the matting it might give some of us cold and fever, and it would be all my fault. Oh, why can't I go to sleep! There never was such an unlucky fellow as I am."

He tried turning, but he could not get into a more comfortable position, and he turned back and listened to the splashings in the river coming nearer and going farther away. Once more he began to think of a huge serpent up in the tree swinging itself down, and a faint rustling in the thatch he was sure must be the great reptile's head as it kept on touching the palm leaf matting; and in imagination he saw the forked tongue flicking in and out of the nick in the upper jaw, till a loud tap told him that it was only a beetle inside instead of outside, and it had lost its hold and fallen to the bottom of the boat.

"That was all fancy," he said to himself; "but that rustling noise ashore is not. I believe it's some big animal searching about the camp."

Crack!

"There, I knew it. A buffalo, I believe, and it put its hoof on a dead stick."

Crack, crick, crick, crackle, crackle.

Harry sighed with relief and opened his eyes widely to see how much lighter the interior of the matting and bamboo cabin had become through the fire ashore falling in, and some of the piled-up wood catching and burning briskly.

"Now then," the listener said to himself, "what am I going to fancy next? – I dunno," he added, after a pause. "I'm so wakeful, I could fancy anything. I know what I'll do. I'll go and wake old Sree, and get him to sit and talk to me."

Harry paused to think again. The old hunter was lying just outside the cabin, and the nearest to it of the men. Then Mike with his currant-dumpling-like face was beside him, and he would not want to wake him too. How was he to manage? If Sree had been sleeping in the side of the boat, he could have stretched out his hand and touched him, as there was no awning there, nothing but some baskets.

But the great difficulty was how to get past Phra and his father and the doctor before he could reach the matting, pull it aside, and touch Sree. It seemed impossible. It was very dark now, and there would be three pairs of legs to get over, and he felt sure that he would stumble over them and wake everybody up.

How to manage – how to do it – how to get by – how to get by?

How to get by?

It was so easy. Sree woke up at a touch, and they sat on the top of the cabin and watched the fire-flies – and the blazing fire. They listened to croakings and cries and the low howl of the tiger, which did not seem to be successful in finding his mate, and it was very calm and restful and pleasant out there in the night, only they dared not move for fear the thatch should give way, and let them both through on the top of those sleeping below.

And so they sat and whispered and talked about the elephants bathing, and the big one scenting them at last and giving the alarm, and the whole herd disappearing after crossing that green marsh place which let them through when they were walking. There was that strange rush that they heard too, that which Sree said was a wild boar, and then —bump!

What was that?

It was to Harry Kenyon just as if a boat had thumped up against theirs, and some one with a voice like his own had asked that question.

But there was no answer. All was perfectly still in the cabin, while the noises in the jungle and on the river banks were not so loud.

It was all dark too, for the fire had burned down, and there was no glimmering light through the interstices of the mats.

But he felt that he ought to see that fire, even if it were merely the glowing embers, seated as he was up there on the top of the cabin roof.

Absurd! How could he be sitting up there, and with Sree too!

They could not have got up there, and he was in his place in the cabin. All that was dreaming.

"Then I have been asleep," he said to himself. "I must have dropped off hours ago, and lain here till that woke me. Some one said, 'What was that?' No; I said it to myself, and seemed to hear it."

Harry ceased his musings, feeling that he was certainly wide awake now, and as certain that he had been awakened by a bump on the side of the boat, for there was a faint grinding sound as of another boat rubbing up against the side.

The boy turned hotter then in the darkness, for there was a low whispering plainly heard, and the first thought which came to him now was that some boat had come to attack them in the night, a boatload of the wild, piratical people who lived by robbing and bloodshed. He had from time to time heard of junks and trading boats being attacked and plundered, but only rarely in their neighbourhood. Certainly, though, this was one, and his hand stole to his gun, which he grasped tightly as with a quick movement he rose to a sitting position so that he might alarm his father.

Just then there was a quick, rustling sound as the matting curtain which separated them from the men forward was drawn aside, and with a strange sensation of palpitation in his breast, instead of calling to his sleeping companions, the lad involuntarily cocked both barrels of his gun.

The loud click, click – click, click gave the alarm.

"Who's that?" cried Mr. Kenyon, springing up.

"It is I, Sahib – Sree," came in the familiar voice.

"Yes! What is it?" said Mr. Kenyon, and as he spoke the clicking of gun-cocks, in company with a quick movement, told plainly enough that the other two occupants of the cabin were awake, and well on the alert for whatever danger there might be.

"Adong has come, Sahib," said Sree, whose voice trembled.

"Adong? What does this mean – is it some treachery?"

"I fear so, Sahib," said Sree huskily.

"And you have come to warn us?"

"Yes, Sahib."

"Come in here, then. Harry, hand this man a gun and ammunition. You,

Sree – there is a boat out there?"

"Yes, Sahib; the one Adong came in."

"With a party of men?"

"No, no, Sahib; he came alone."

"Ah, and the men all side against us?"

"Yes, Sahib; I suppose all."

"Very well; then we must fight. But who is Adong?"

"The Sahib knows him: the young one of the two boys who help me hunt for wild things in the jungle."

"Oh, that young fellow!"

"Yes, Sahib; he looks to me as to a father."

"And yet goes against you?"

"He go against me, Sahib?" cried the man. "Why, he would lay down his life for me. As soon as he knew, he seized the first boat he could swim to and followed us up the river."

"But you said the men were all against us."

"Yes, Sahib; as far as I can make out, all the fighting men have risen, and they are killing and burning; and when Adong came after me, they were going in a great crowd with spear and kris against the King's house."

"What!" cried Phra wildly, and Harry caught his arm.

"Hush!" he whispered; "it may not be so bad. That man may have taken fright."

"You hear all this, Cameron?" said Mr. Kenyon hoarsely.

"Hear it!" groaned the doctor. "It is what we have always dreaded. And

I am here! Oh, Kenyon, my wife – my wife!"

Mr. Kenyon drew a deep breath.

"Thanks, Sree," he said calmly; "I thought you meant there was danger here. Wake up the men at once."

"They are all awake and listening to Adong, Sahib. He had to run for his life. What will the Sahib do?"

"Go back at once."

"No, no, Sahib," cried the hunter wildly; "it would mean death to you all. They would seize the Prince, and kill him. You must wait till day, and then we will go on right up into the jungle, where you must hide till there is peace again, and you can go back home. We can get food for you, and a hiding-place where the people who come to find and kill the young Prince shall never find where you are."

"Mr. Kenyon, you will not listen to this man?" cried Phra wildly; but he received no answer, for just then the doctor gripped his friend tightly by the arm in the darkness which seemed to add to the horror of the terrible situation.

"Kenyon," he whispered, "I am weak and ill. I cannot think. This stroke has driven me mad. Act for me, old friend – think for me. Help me to save my wife."

Mr. Kenyon's reply was a firm pressure of the hand, but some moments elapsed before he spoke.

"Sree," he said at last, "you are a brave, true servant, and your advice is good; but neither the doctor nor I can do as you say. What boat is this that has joined us? A small one, of course?"

"Yes, Sahib; it is for two rowers, but it was the only one Adong could get."

"It will do. Now listen, for I trust you."

"Yes, the Sahib always trusted his servant," replied Sree proudly.

"You will take command of this boat that we are in, and I trust to you and your men to fight for and protect your young Prince and my son."

"As long as we can fight, Sahib," said the man proudly. "We all love them, and would die for them."

"I know it, Sree. Then I trust you to find some hiding-place where they will be safe till this rising is at an end."

"Yes, Sahib; but what will the master and the doctor Sahib do?" said Sree excitedly, and without heeding the eager whispering going on close by.

"We take the small boat now directly, and go down the river."

"But it would be to meet boats coming up, Sahib," said the man excitedly. "You would be running upon bad men's spears."

"We have our guns, and shall be prepared," said Mr. Kenyon coldly.

"But the little sampan – in the darkness, Sahib. You would overset, and that means a horrible death too."

"Then you will ask two men to volunteer to take us."

"Adong and I would row you safely back, Sahib," said the man earnestly.

"No; I cannot spare you from watching over my son. You and your man, who know him so well, must stay."

"Sahib, we cannot spare you and the good doctor Sahib. Pray, pray do not try to go back. It would be only to lose your lives."

"Silence, man! We go to save the doctor Sahib's wife."

"Ah, yes! the sweet, good lady," sighed Sree.

"And the King is our friend; we cannot leave him like this. No more words; obey my orders."

"No!" shouted Harry, out of the darkness. "Stop where you are."

"Harry!" cried Mr. Kenyon.

"Yes, father, I hear; but if the King has been attacked, and – and – you know what I mean," said the boy, choking for a moment, "Phra says he is King and master now, and that this shall not be. We say we won't be treated like children and be sent away to be taken care of while you go down the river to fight."

"That is right," said Phra firmly. "Let me speak now, Hal. You are going to save dear Mrs. Cameron from these wretches – these fools, who have risen against my father; we must go too. You are going to try and save your friend, my father, who has never done anything but good for his people."

"Yes, and – "

"I have not spoken all, Mr. Kenyon," said the boy proudly. "You are going to try and save him. Well, I am his son. Not a man yet, but I can fight; and where should I be but helping to save him? What! Do you want him, if he lives, to be ashamed of the boy who ran away to hide in the woods? Do you want Hal to let his father go alone? Do you think we two could ever look dear Mrs. Cameron in the eyes again if we had been such a pair of cowards as that? No: Hal and I are coming with you, but there are not enough of us to attack and fight with all those wretches. We must try cunning against them, and go to the doctor's bungalow and to the palace by night, and bring those who are waiting for us to the boat. Then we can come back into the jungle to wait till my father goes back again to take his place. Now, Sree, clear away the mats and unfasten the boat; we must start back at once. Cast off the other, it will be in the way."

A heavy sigh rose from one occupant of the cabin, a deep groan from another, but not a word of opposition came from either of the elders; and the next minute the men forward were busy rolling up the mats and unmooring the boat, while two crept along outside the cabin to take their oars.

It was still intensely dark, for the matting at the cabin sides had not been rolled up, and Mr. Kenyon sat trying to whisper a few words of comfort to the doctor, who seemed completely prostrated by the news, when the former felt a hand laid upon his arm, and he started slightly, for in the black darkness he had not noticed that some one had drawn near.

"You are not very angry with me, father?" was whispered.

"Angry with you, my boy? No."

"Nor with me, Mr. Kenyon?"

"Nor yet with you, Phra, my dear lad. No. You made me feel very, very proud; but I think that I ought not to let you run such risks."

"God bless you both, boys, for what you have said," groaned the doctor. "Boys? No; you spoke like men, while I sit here feeling weak and helpless as a child. But I shall be better soon – in a few minutes I shall be a man once more, and we must all talk, and plan, and scheme. For Phra is right; it must be done with cunning, as we are so weak. Now please leave me to myself for a few minutes. First tell me, though, are we going back?"

"Yes," said Harry, after looking out between the mats; "the boat is steadily going with the stream. The other is floating yonder."

The doctor drew a deep breath.

"Hah!" he said; "that has taken a weight from my breast. Going back – going to the rescue. Heaven help us! Shall we be too late?"

CHAPTER XX

A DREARY RETURN

Harry was correct: the boat was gliding steadily back with the stream, and Sree was standing right forward in the prow, looking out and uttering warnings from time to time of dangers ahead, in the shape of fallen trees, while he kept on admonishing the men to be content with keeping the boat straight while the darkness lasted, and deferring all attempts at making speed till the day came.

It was still very dark, the stars being nearly blotted out by the thin mist; but there were sundry significant hints that morning was approaching, for the scintillation of the fire-flies had ceased, and the chorus of reptile and wandering beast in the depths of the forest was dying away.

Leaving Mr. Kenyon and the doctor talking, the boys were standing together right astern beyond the two rowers there, who were too intent upon working their oars to pay any heed to them and their discourse, though as it was carried on in English, they could have made out nothing, had they listened.

"I'm glad father wasn't cross," said Harry after several awkward attempts at getting up a conversation, Phra having replied to all he said in monosyllables, as in the present instance.

"Yes."

"It seemed so queer to get up and contradict his orders, and say we would do as we liked."

"Yes," said Phra, with a sigh, and then he added, "but it was quite right, for we both felt that it was like doing our duty."

"Ah!" cried Harry eagerly. "So it was. Look here, Phra, old chap, don't you be down-hearted."

"I am not going to be till I know the worst."

"That's the way to take it; for look here, that Adong would only know that there was gong-beating and spearing and setting places on fire – a regular riot. He would not know anything about how matters were at the palace."

"No; he could not," said Phra, with a sigh.

"And your father has got plenty of fighting men, who could soon stop a mob."

"If they were faithful to him," said Phra, sighing.

"Oh well, they would be for certain."

"I don't know," said Phra. "I have always been afraid of this. You see, the second king has made friends with the bonzes, and they can talk and preach to the people, and make them believe almost anything about my father."

"Because he does all kinds of scientific things," said Harry, "that they cannot understand."

"Yes," said Phra; "it is the old story. They are too stupid to grasp the meaning of all he does, and because they cannot understand it, they teach the people to believe that it is all what you English people call 'witchcraft' and wickedness. Oh, I have not patience with the silly babies – they are not men."

"I hope we shall have a chance to knock some of their thick heads together. There, you are getting in better heart now about the news."

Phra turned upon him sadly.

"Are you getting in better heart about poor Mrs. Cameron?" he said.

"Oh, Phra!" cried Harry passionately. "Don't."

"You tell me to be of good heart about my father and you are in despair about Mrs. Cameron."

"Yes, that's right," cried Harry passionately; "but I won't be so any longer, for I don't believe that any of your people, even the very worst of them, would be such wretches as to hurt her."

Phra uttered a low groan.

"What!" cried Harry. "You do believe they would?"

"Our people," said Phra sadly, "are, as my father has said to me, quiet and good and gentle as can be. They always seem merry and happy; but deep down in their nature there is a something which can be stirred up, and then they are like the fierce savages from the mountains yonder. They will do anything terrible then, and these wretches who are trying to place the second king in my father's place know that and have driven them to rise. Hal, we can't tell what may have happened till we get down home; but if they have killed my father, I am king, and I shall pray night and day that I may grow quickly into a man, so that I may kill and kill and kill till I feel that my dear father is avenged. It will be war until I have done my duty there."

Harry was silent, as he stood listening and gazing in his companion's face, which had suddenly seemed to start out of the darkness – the face alone; all else was pretty well invisible – and there it was, a strange, pale, ghastly-looking visage, distorted by the agony in the boy's breast, and the deadly determination the pangs had brought forth.

Harry shuddered, and for some time the only sounds heard were the murmur of voices in the cabin and the swish of water as the men dipped their oars.

"Your father was right," said the English boy at last.

"What about?" said Phra hoarsely.

"About the Siamese people being so amiable and gentle until they are stirred."

"Yes, I see what you mean," replied Phra, "and I suppose it is so, Hal. I feel as if I can see my poor father lying dead and covered with bad wounds given by a set of cowards rushing upon him, and it makes me seem to see blood, and I want to punish them for killing one who has thought of nothing but doing the people good."