LITMIR.BIZ

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appellation, alas! no longer to be pronounced in the presence of their mother.

      Fifteen years after leaving the Land’s End, Richard Trevannion, still under thirty-five years of age, was a widower, with two children, – respected wherever known, prosperous in pecuniary affairs, – rich enough to return home, and spend the remainder of his days in that state so much desired by the Sybarite Roman poet, – “otium cum dignitate.”

      Did he remember the vow mutually made between him and his brother, that, having enough money, they would one day go back to Cornwall, and recover the ancestral estate? He did remember it. He longed to accomplish this design, he only awaited his brother’s answer to a communication he had made to him on this very subject.

      He had no doubt that Ralph’s desire would be in unison with his own, – that his brother would soon join him, and then both would return to their native land, – perhaps to dwell again under the same roof that had sheltered them as children.

      The history of the elder brother during this period of fifteen years, if less eventful, was not less distinguished by success. By steadily following the pursuit which had first attracted him to Peru, he succeeded in becoming a man of considerable means, – independent, if not wealthy.

      Like his brother, he got married at an early period, – in fact, within the first year after establishing himself in Cerro Pasco. Unlike the latter, however, he chose for his wife one of the women of the country, – a beautiful Peruvian lady. She too, but a short while before, had gone to a better world, leaving motherless two pretty children, of twelve and fourteen years of age, – the elder of the two being a daughter.

      Such was the family of Ralph Trevannion, and such the condition of life in which his brother’s epistle reached him, – that epistle containing the proposal that they should wind lip their respective businesses, dispose of both, and carry their gains to the land that had given them birth.

      The proposition was at once accepted, as Richard knew it would be. It was far from the first time that the thing had been discussed, epistolary fashion, between them; for letters were exchanged as often as opportunity permitted, – sometimes twice or thrice in the year.

      In these letters, during the last few years of their sojourn in South America, the promise made on leaving home was mutually mentioned, and as often renewed on either side. Richard knew that his brother was as eager as himself to keep that well-remembered vow.

      So long as the mother of Ralph’s children was alive, he had not urged his brother to its fulfilment; but now that she had been dead for more than a year, he had written to say that the time had come for their return to their country and their home.

      His proposal was, that Ralph, having settled his affairs in Peru, – which, of course, included the selling out of his share in the mines, – should join him, Richard, at Pará, thence to take ship for England. That instead of going round by Cape Horn, or across the Isthmus, by Panama, Ralph should make the descent of the great Amazon River, which traverse would carry him latitudinally across the continent from west to east.

      Richard had two reasons for recommending this route. First, because he wished his brother to see the great river of Orellana, as he himself had done; and secondly, because he was still more desirous that his own son should see it.

      How this last wish was to be gratified by his brother making the descent of the Amazon, may require explanation; but it will suffice to say that the son of Richard Trevannion was at that time residing with his uncle at the mines of Cerro Pasco.

      The boy had gone to Peru the year before, in one of his father’s ships, – first, to see the Great Ocean, then the Great Andes, – afterwards to become acquainted with the country of the Incas, and last, though not of least importance, to make the acquaintance of his own uncle and his two interesting cousins, the elder of whom was exactly his own age. He had gone to the Pacific side by sea. It was his father’s wish he should return to the Atlantic side by land, – or, to speak more accurately, by river.

      The merchant’s wish was to be gratified. The miner had no desire to refuse compliance with his proposal. On the contrary, it chimed in with his own inclinations. Ralph Trevannion possessed a spirit adventurous as his brother’s, which fourteen years of mining industry, carried on in the cold mountains of Cerro Pasco, had neither deadened nor chilled. The thought of once more returning to the scenes of his youth quite rejuvenated him; and on the day of receiving his brother’s challenge to go, he not only accepted it, but commenced proceedings towards carrying the design into execution.

      A month afterwards and he might have been seen descending the eastern slope of the Cordilleras on mule-back, and accompanied by his family and followers; afterwards aboard a balsa, – one of those curious crafts used in the descent of the Huallaga; and later still on the montaria, upon the bosom of the great river itself.

      With the details of his mountain travels, interesting as they may be, we have naught to do. No more with his descent of the Huallaga, nor his long voyage on the Amazon itself, in that up-river portion of the stream where it is called the “Marañon.” Only where it becomes the stupendous “Solimoës” do we join Ralph Trevannion on his journey, and remain with him as long as he is “Afloat in the Forest,” or making a voyage among the tree-tops.

      Chapter Three. The Galatea

      On an evening in the early part of December, a craft of singular construction might have been seen descending the Solimoës, and apparently making for the little Portuguese port of Coary, that lies on the southern side of the river.

      When we say of singular construction, we mean singular to one unaccustomed to the navigation of Amazonian waters. There the craft in question was too common to excite curiosity, since it was nothing more than a galatea, or large canoe, furnished with mast and sail, with a palm-thatched cabin, or toldo, rising over the quarter, a low-decked locker running from bow to midships, – along each side of which were to be seen, half seated, half standing, some half-dozen dark-skinned men, each plying, instead of an oar, a paddle-blade.

      Perhaps the most singular sight on board this embarkation was the group of animated beings who composed its crew and passengers. The former, as already stated, were dark-skinned men scantily clad, – in fact, almost naked, since a single pair of white cotton drawers constituted the complete costume of each.

      For passengers there were three men, and a like number of individuals of younger age. Two of the men were white, apparently Europeans; the other was as black as soot could have made him, – unquestionably an African negro. Of the young people two were boys, not much differing in size, and apparently not much in age, while the third was a half-grown girl, of dark complexion, raven-coloured hair, and beautiful features.

      One of the white men appeared to be, and was, the proprietor of the montaria, and the employer of its swarthy crew. He was Ralph Trevannion.

      The young girl was his daughter, and bore her Peruvian mother’s name, Rosa, more often pronounced by its diminutive of endearment, Rosita. The younger of the two boys – also of dark complexion – was his son Ralph; while the older, of true Saxon physiognomy and hue, was the son of his brother, also bearing his father’s Christian name, Richard.

      The second white man was unmistakably of European race, – so much so that any one possessing the slightest knowledge of the Hibernian type would at once have pronounced him a “Son of the Sod.” A pure pug nose, a shock of curled hair of the clearest carrot colour, an eternal twinkle in the eye, a volume of fun lying open at each angle of the mouth, were all characteristics by which “Tipperary Tom” – for such was his sobriquet – might be remembered.

      About the negro there was nothing special, more than that he was a pure negro, with enormously thick lips, flattened nose, long protruding heels, teeth white as hippopotamus ivory, and almost always set in a good-humoured grin. The darkey had been a sailor, or rather ship-steward, before landing in Peru. Thither had he strayed, and settled at Cerro Pasco after several years spent aboard ship. He was a native of Mozambique, on the eastern coast of Africa, to which circumstance was he indebted for the only name ever given him, – Mozey.

      Both he and the Irishman were the servants of the miner, or rather his retainers, who served him in various ways,

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