CHAPTER THREE.
BESANCON'S ADVENTURE IN THE SWAMPS.
The prairie traveller never sleeps after daybreak. He is usually astirbefore that time. He has many "_chores_" to perform, unknown to theordinary traveller who rests in the roadside inn. He has to pack up histent and bed, cook his own breakfast, and saddle his horse. All thisrequires time, therefore an early start is necessary.
We were on our feet before the sun had shown his disc above theblack-jacks. Lanty had the start of us, and had freshened up his fire.Already the coffee-kettle was bubbling audibly, and the great frying-panperfumed the camp with an incense more agreeable than the odours ofAraby.
The raw air of the morning had brought everybody around the fire.Thompson was pruning and cleansing his nails; the Kentuckian was cuttinga fresh "chunk" from his plug of "James's River;" the doctor had justreturned from the stream, where he had refreshed himself by a "nip" fromhis pewter flask; Besancon was packing up his portfolios; the zoologistwas lighting his long pipe, and the "Captain" was looking to hisfavourite horse, while inhaling the fragrance of an "Havannah." Theguides stood with their blankets hanging from their shoulders silent andthoughtful.
In half an hour breakfast was over, the tents and utensils were restoredto the waggon, the horses were brought in and saddled, the mules"hitched up," and the expedition once more on its way.
This day we made not quite so good a journey. The roads were heavier,the country more thickly timbered, and the ground more hilly. We hadseveral small streams to ford, and this retarded our progress. Twentymiles was the extent of our journey.
We encamped again without any of us having killed or seen game.Although we had beaten the bushes on both sides of our course, nothingbigger than the red-bird (scarlet tanager, _Pyranga rubra_), a screamingjay, or an occasional flight of finches, gratified our sight.
We reached our camp somewhat disappointed. Even old Ike and Redwoodcame into camp without game, alleging also that they had not met withthe sign of a living quadruped.
Our second camp was also on the bank of a small stream. Shortly afterour arrival on the ground, Thompson started out afoot, taking with himhis gun. He had noticed a tract of marsh at no great distance off. Hethought it promised well for snipe.
He had not been long gone, when two reports echoed back, and thenshortly after another and another. He had found something to empty hisgun at.
Presently we saw him returning with a brace and a half of birds thatlooked very much like large snipe. So he thought them, but thatquestion was set at rest by the zoologist, who pronounced them at onceto be the American "Curlew" of Wilson (_Numenius longirostris_). Curlewor snipe, they were soon divested of the feathery coat, and placed inLanty's frying-pan. Excellent eating they proved, having only the faultthat there was not enough of them.
These birds formed the topic of our after-supper conversation, and thenit generalised to the different species of wading birds of America, andat length that singular creature, the "ibis," became the theme. Thiscame round by Besancon remarking that a species of ibis was brought bythe Indians to the markets of New Orleans, and sold there under the nameof "Spanish Curlew." This was the white ibis (_Tantalus albas_), whichthe zoologist stated was found in plenty along the whole southern coastof the United States. There were two other species, he said, natives ofthe warm parts of North America, the "wood-ibis" (_Tantalus loculator_),which more nearly resembles the sacred ibis of Egypt, and the beautiful"sacred ibis" (_Tantalus ruber_), which last is rarer than the others.
Our venerable companion, who had the ornithology of America, if I mayuse the expression, at his fingers' ends, imparted many curious detailsof the habits of these rare birds. All listened with interest to hisstatements--even the hunter-guides, for with all their apparent rudenessof demeanour, there was a dash of the naturalist in these fellows.
When the zoologist became silent, the young Creole took up theconversation. Talking of the ibis, he said, reminded him of anadventure he had met with while in pursuit of these birds among theswamps of his native state. He would relate it to us. Of course wewere rejoiced at the proposal. We were just the audience for an"adventure," and after rolling a fresh cigarette, the botanist began hisnarration.
"During one of my college vacations I made a botanical excursion to thesouth-western part of Louisiana. Before leaving home I had promised adear friend to bring him the skins of such rare birds as were known tofrequent the swampy region I was about to traverse, but he wasespecially desirous I should obtain for him some specimens of the redibis, which he intended to have `mounted.' I gave my word that noopportunity should be lost of obtaining these birds, and I was veryanxious to make good my promise.
"The southern part of the State of Louisiana is one vast labyrinth ofswamps, bayous, and lagoons. The bayous are sluggish streams that glidesleepily along, sometimes running one way, and sometimes the veryopposite, according to the season of the year. Many of them are outletsof the Mississippi, which begins to shed off its waters more than 300miles from its mouth. These bayous are deep, sometimes narrow,sometimes wide, with islets in their midst. They and their contiguousswamps are the great habitat of the alligator and the fresh-watershark--the gar. Numerous species of water and wading fowl fly overthem, and plunge through their dark tide. Here you may see the redflamingo, the egret, the trumpeter-swan, the blue heron, the wild goose,the crane, the snake-bird, the pelican, and the ibis; you may likewisesee the osprey, and the white-headed eagle robbing him of his prey.Both swamps and bayous produce abundantly fish, reptile, and insect, andare, consequently, the favourite resort of hundreds of birds which preyupon these creatures. In some places, their waters form a completenet-work over the country, which you may traverse with a small boat inalmost any direction; indeed, this is the means by which manysettlements communicate with each other. As you approach southwardtowards the Gulf, you get clear of the timber; and within some fiftymiles of the sea, there is not a tree to be seen.
"In the first day or two that I was out, I had succeeded in getting allthe specimens I wanted, with the exception of the ibis. This shycreature avoided me; in fact I had only seen one or two in myexcursions, and these at a great distance. I still, however, had hopesof finding them before my return to my friend.
"About the third or fourth day I set out from a small settlement on theedge of one of the larger bayous. I had no other company than my gun.I was even unattended by a dog, as my favourite spaniel had the daybefore been bitten by an alligator while swimming across the bayou, andI was compelled to leave him at the settlement. Of course the object ofmy excursion was a search after new flora, but I had become by this timevery desirous of getting the rare ibis, and I was determined half toneglect my botanising for that purpose. I went of course in a boat, alight skiff, such as is commonly used by the inhabitants of these parts.
"Occasionally using the paddles, I allowed myself to float some four orlive miles down the main bayou; but as the birds I was in search of didnot appear, I struck into a `branch,' and sculled myself up-stream.This carried me through a solitary region, with marshes stretching asfar as the eye could see, covered with tall reeds. There was nohabitation, nor aught that betokened the presence of man. It was justpossible that I was the first human being who had ever found a motivefor propelling a boat through the dark waters of this solitary stream.
"As I advanced, I fell in with game; and I succeeded in bagging several,both of the great wood-ibis and the white species. I also shot a finewhite-headed eagle (_Falco leucocephalus_), which came soaring over myboat, unconscious of danger. But the bird which I most wanted seemedthat which could not be obtained. I wanted the scarlet ibis.
"I think I had rowed some three miles up-stream, and was about to takein my oars and leave my boat to float back again, when I perceived that,a little farther up, the bayou widened. Curiosity prompted me tocontinue; and after pulling a few hundred strokes, I found myself at theend of an oblong lake, a mile or so in length. It was d
eep, dark,marshy around the shores, and full of alligators. I saw their uglyforms and long serrated backs, as they floated about in all parts of it,hungrily hunting for fish and eating one another; but all this wasnothing new, for I had witnessed similar scenes during the whole of myexcursion. What drew my attention most, was a small islet near themiddle of the lake, upon one end of which stood a row of upright formsof a bright scarlet colour. These red creatures were the very objects Iwas in search of. They might be flamingoes: I could not tell at thatdistance. So much the better, if I could only succeed in getting a shotat them; but these creatures are even more wary than the ibis; and asthe islet was low, and altogether without cover, it was not likely theywould allow me to come within range: nevertheless, I was determined tomake the attempt. I rowed up the lake, occasionally turning my head tosee if the game had taken the alarm. The sun was hot and dazzling; andas the bright scarlet was magnified by refraction, I fancied for a longtime they were flamingoes. This fancy was dissipated as I drew near.The outlines of the bills, like the blade of a sabre, convinced me theywere the ibis; besides, I now saw that they were less than three feet inheight, while the flamingoes stand five. There were a dozen of them inall. These were balancing themselves, as is their usual habit, on oneleg, apparently asleep, or _buried in deep thought_. They were on theupper extremity of the islet, while I was approaching it from below. Itwas not above sixty yards across; and could I only reach the pointnearest me, I knew my gun would throw shot to kill at that distance. Ifeared the stroke of the sculls would start them, and I pulled slowlyand cautiously. Perhaps the great heat--for it was as hot a day as Ican remember--had rendered them torpid or lazy. Whether or not, theysat still until the cut-water of my skiff touched the bank of the islet.I drew my gun up cautiously, took aim, and fired both barrels almostsimultaneously. When the smoke cleared out of my eyes, I saw that allthe birds had flown off except one, that lay stretched out by the edgeof the water.
"Gun in hand, I leaped out of the boat, and ran across the islet to bagmy game. This occupied but a few minutes; and I was turning to go backto the skiff, when, to my consternation, I saw it out upon the lake, andrapidly floating downward!
"In my haste I had left it unfastened, and the bayou current had carriedit off. It was still but a hundred yards distant, but it might as wellhave been a hundred miles, for at that time I could not swim a stroke.
"My first impulse was to rush down to the lake, and after the boat.This impulse was checked on arriving at the water's edge, which I saw ata glance was fathoms in depth. Quick reflection told me that the boatwas gone--irrecoverably gone!
"I did not at first comprehend the full peril of my situation; nor willyou, gentlemen. I was on an islet, in a lake, only half a mile from itsshores--alone, it is true, and without a boat; but what of that? Many aman had been so before, with not an idea of danger.
"These were first thoughts, natural enough; but they rapidly gave placeto others of a far different character. When I gazed after my boat, nowbeyond recovery--when I looked around, and saw that the lake lay in themiddle of an interminable swamp, the shores of which, even could I havereached them, did not seem to promise me footing--when I reflected that,being unable to swim, I could _not_ reach them--that upon the isletthere was neither tree, nor log, nor bush; not a stick out of which Imight make a raft--I say, when I reflected upon all these things, therearose in my mind a feeling of well-defined and absolute horror.
"It is true I was only in a lake, a mile or so in width; but so far asthe peril and helplessness of my situation were concerned, I might aswell have been upon a rock in the middle of the Atlantic. I knew thatthere was no settlement within miles--miles of pathless swamp. I knewthat no one could either see or hear me--no one was at all likely tocome near the lake; indeed, I felt satisfied that my faithless boat wasthe first keel that had ever cut its waters. The very tameness of thebirds wheeling round my head was evidence of this. I felt satisfied,too, that without some one to help me, I should never go out from thatlake: I must die on the islet, or drown in attempting to leave it!
"These reflections rolled rapidly over my startled soul. The facts wereclear, the hypothesis definite, the sequence certain; there was noambiguity, no supposititious hinge upon which I could hang a hope; no,not one. I could not even expect that I should be missed and soughtfor; there was no one to search for me. The simple _habitans_ of thevillage I had left knew me not--I was a stranger among them: they onlyknew me as a stranger, and fancied me a strange individual; one who madelonely excursions, and brought home hunches of weeds, with birds,insects, and reptiles, which they had never before seen, althoughgathered at their own doors. My absence, besides, would be nothing newto them, even though it lasted for days: I had often been absent before,a week at a time. There was no hope of my being missed.
"I have said that these reflections came and passed quickly. In lessthan a minute, my affrighted soul was in full possession of them, andalmost yielded itself to despair. I shouted, but rather involuntarilythan with any hope that I should be heard; I shouted loudly andfiercely: my answer--the echoes of my own voice, the shriek of theosprey, and the maniac laugh of the white-headed eagle.
"I ceased to shout, threw my gun to the earth, and tottered down besideit. I can imagine the feelings of a man shut up in a gloomy prison--they are not pleasant. I have been lost upon the wild prairie--the landsea--without bush, break, or star to guide me--that was worse. Thereyou look around; you see nothing; you hear nothing: you are alone withGod, and you tremble in his presence; your senses swim; your brainreels; you are afraid of yourself; you are afraid of your own mind.Deserted by everything else, you dread lest it, too, may forsake you.There is horror in this--it is very horrible--it is hard to bear; but Ihave borne it all, and would bear it again twenty times over rather thanendure once more the first hour I spent on that lonely islet in thatlonely lake. Your prison may be dark and silent, but you feel that youare not utterly alone; beings like yourself are near, though they beyour jailers. Lost on the prairie, you are alone; but you are free. Inthe islet, I felt that I was alone; that I was not free: in the islet Iexperienced the feelings of the prairie and the prison combined.
"I lay in a state of stupor--almost unconscious; how long I know not,but many hours I am certain; I knew this by the sun--it was going downwhen I awoke, if I may so term the recovery of my stricken senses. Iwas aroused by a strange circumstance: I was surrounded by dark objectsof hideous shape and hue--reptiles they were. They had been before myeyes for some time, but I had not seen them. I had only a sort ofdreamy consciousness of their presence; but I heard them at length: myear was in better tune, and the strange noises they uttered reached myintellect. It sounded like the blowing of great bellows, with now andthen a note harsher and louder, like the roaring of a bull. Thisstartled me, and I looked up and bent my eyes upon the objects: theywere forms of the _crocodilidae_, the giant lizards--they werealligators.
"Huge ones they were, many of them; and many were they in number--ahundred at least were crawling over the islet, before, behind, and onall sides around me. Their long gaunt jaws and channelled snoutsprojected forward so as almost to touch my body; and their eyes, usuallyleaden, seemed now to glare.
"Impelled by this new danger, I sprang to my feet, when, recognising theupright form of man, the reptiles scuttled off, and plunging hurriedlyinto the lake; hid their hideous bodies under the water.
"The incident in some measure revived me. I saw that I was not alone;there was company even in the crocodiles. I gradually became moremyself; and began to reflect with some degree of coolness on thecircumstances that surrounded me. My eyes wandered over the islet;every inch of it came under my glance; every object upon it wasscrutinised--the moulted feathers of wildfowl, the pieces of mud, thefresh-water mussels (_unios_) strewed upon its beach--all were examined.Still the barren answer--no means of escape.
"The islet was but the head of a sand-bar, formed by the eddy, perhapsgathered together wi
thin the year. It was bare of herbage, with theexception of a few tufts of grass. There was neither tree nor bush uponit: not a stick. A raft indeed! There was not wood enough to make araft that would have floated a frog. The idea of a raft was but brieflyentertained; such a thought had certainly crossed my mind, but a singleglance round the islet dispelled it before it had taken shape.
"I paced my prison from end to end; from side to side I walked it over.I tried the water's depth; on all sides I sounded it, wading recklesslyin; everywhere it deepened rapidly as I advanced. Three lengths ofmyself from the islet's edge, and I was up to the neck. The hugereptiles swam around, snorting and blowing; they were bolder in thiselement. I could not have waded safely ashore, even had the water beenshallow. To swim it--no--even though I swam like a duck, they wouldhave closed upon and quartered me before I could have made a dozenstrokes. Horrified by their demonstrations, I hurried back upon dryground, and paced the islet with dripping garments.
"I continued walking until night, which gathered around me dark anddismal. With night came new voices--the hideous voices of the nocturnalswamp; the qua-qua of the night-heron, the screech of the swamp-owl, thecry of the bittern, the cl-l-uk of the great water-toad, the tinkling ofthe bell-frog, and the chirp of the savanna-cricket--all fell upon myear. Sounds still harsher and more, hideous were heard around me--theplashing of the alligator, and the roaring of his voice; these remindedme that I must not go to sleep. To sleep! I durst not have slept for asingle instant. Even when I lay for a few minutes motionless, the darkreptiles came crawling round me--so close that I could have put forth myhand and touched them.
"At intervals, I sprang to my feet, shouted, swept my gun around, andchased them back to the water, into which they betook themselves with asullen plunge, but with little semblance of fear. At each freshdemonstration on my part they showed less alarm, until I could no longerdrive them either with shouts or threatening gestures. They onlyretreated a few feet, forming an irregular circle round me.
"Thus hemmed in, I became frightened in turn. I loaded my gun andfired; I killed none. They are impervious to a bullet, except in theeye, or under the forearm. It was too dark to aim at these parts; andmy shots glanced harmlessly from the pyramidal scales of their bodies.The loud report, however, and the blaze frightened them, and they fled,to return again after a long interval. I was asleep when they returned;I had gone to sleep in spite of my efforts to keep awake. I wasstartled by the touch of something cold; and half-stilled by the strongmusky odour that filled the air. I threw out my arms; my fingers restedupon an object slippery and clammy: it was one of these monsters--one ofgigantic size. He had crawled close alongside me, and was preparing tomake his attack; as I saw that he was bent in the form of a bow, and Iknew that these creatures assume that attitude when about to striketheir victim. I was just in time to spring aside, and avoid the strokeof his powerful tail, that the next moment swept the ground where I hadlain. Again I fired, and he with the rest once more retreated to thelake.
"All thoughts of going to sleep were at an end. Not that I feltwakeful; on the contrary, wearied with my day's exertion--for I had hada long pull under a hot tropical sun--I could have lain down upon theearth, in the mud, anywhere, and slept in an instant. Nothing but thedread certainty of my peril kept me awake. Once again before morning, Iwas compelled to battle with the hideous reptiles, and chase them awaywith a shot from my gun.
"Morning came at length, but with it no change in my perilous position.The light only showed me my island prison, but revealed no way of escapefrom it. Indeed, the change could not be called for the better, for thefervid rays of an almost vertical sun poured down upon me until my skinblistered. I was already speckled by the bites of a thousandswamp-flies and mosquitoes, that all night long had preyed upon me.There was not a cloud in the heavens to shade me; and the sunbeams smotethe surface of the dead bayou with a double intensity.
"Towards evening, I began to hunger; no wonder at that: I had not eatensince leaving the village settlement. To assuage thirst, I drank thewater of the lake, turbid and slimy as it was. I drank it in largequantities, for it was hot, and only moistened my palate withoutquenching the craving of my appetite. Of water there was enough; I hadmore to fear from want of food.
"What could I eat? The ibis. But how to cook it? There was nothingwherewith to make a fire--not a stick. No matter for that. Cooking isa modern invention, a luxury for pampered palates. I divested the ibisof its brilliant plumage, and ate it raw. I spoiled my specimen, but atthe time there was little thought of that: there was not much of thenaturalist left in me. I anathematised the hour I had ever promised toprocure the bird. I wished my friend up to his neck in a swamp.
"The ibis did not weigh above three pounds, bones and all. It served mefor a second meal, a breakfast; but at this _dejeuner sans fourchette_ Ipicked the bones.
"What next? starve? No--not yet. In the battles I had had with thealligators during the second night, one of them had received a shot thatproved mortal. The hideous carcass of the reptile lay dead upon thebeach. I need not starve; I could eat that. Such were my reflections.I must hunger, though, before I could bring myself to touch the muskymorsel.
"Two more days' fasting conquered my squeamishness. I drew out myknife, cut a steak from the alligator's tail, and ate it--not the one Ihad first killed, but a second; the other was now putrid, rapidlydecomposing under the hot sun: its odour filled the islet.
"The stench had grown intolerable. There was not a breath of airstirring, otherwise I might have shunned it by keeping to windward. Thewhole atmosphere of the islet, as well as a large circle around it, wasimpregnated with the fearful effluvium. I could bear it no longer.With the aid of my gun, I pushed the half-decomposed carcass into thelake; perhaps the current might carry it away. It did: I had thegratification to see it float off.
"This circumstance led me into a train of reflections. Why did the bodyof the alligator float? It was swollen--inflated with gases. Ha!
"An idea shot suddenly through my mind--one of those brilliant ideas,the children of necessity. I thought of the floating alligator, of itsintestines--what if I inflated them? Yes, yes! buoys and bladders,floats and life-preservers! that was the thought. I would open thealligators, make a buoy of their intestines, and that would bear me fromthe islet!
"I did not lose a moment's time; I was full of energy: hope had given menew life. My gun was loaded--a huge crocodile that swam near the shorereceived the shot in his eye. I dragged him on the beach; with my knifeI laid open his entrails. Few they were, but enough for my purpose. Aplume-quill from the wing of the ibis served me for a blow-pipe. I sawthe bladder-like skin expand, until I was surrounded by objects likegreat sausages. Those were tied together, and fastened to my body, andthen, with a plunge, I entered the waters of the lake, and floateddownward. I had tied on my life-preservers in such a way that I sat inthe water in an upright position, holding my gun with both hands. ThisI intended to have, used as a club in case I should be attacked by thealligators; but I had chosen the hot hour of noon, when these creatureslie in a half-torpid state, and to my joy I was not molested.
"Half an hour's drifting with the current carried me to the end of thelake, and I found myself at the _debouchure_ of the bayou. Here, to mygreat delight, I saw my boat in the swamp, where it had been caught andheld fast by the sedge. A few minutes more, and I had swung myself overthe gunwale, and was sculling with eager strokes down the smooth watersof the bayou.
"Of course my adventure was ended, and I reached the settlement insafety, but without the object of my excursion. I was enabled, however,to procure it some days after, and had the gratification of being ableto keep my promise to my friend."
Besancon's adventure had interested all of us; the old hunter-naturalistseemed delighted with it. No doubt it revived within him the memoriesof many a perilous incident in his own life.
It was evident that in the circle of the camp-fire there
was more thanone pair of lips ready to narrate some similar adventure, but the hourwas late, and all agreed it would be better to go to rest. On to-morrownight, some other would take their turn; and, in fact, a regularagreement was entered into that each one of the party who had at anyperiod of his life been the hero or participator in any huntingadventure should narrate the same for the entertainment of the others.This would bring out a regular "round of stories by the camp-fire," andwould enable us to kill the many long evenings we had to pass beforecoming up with the buffalo. The conditions were, that the storiesshould exclusively relate to birds or animals--in fact, any hunted gamebelonging to the _fauna_ of the American Continent: furthermore, thateach should contribute his _quota_ of information about whatever animalshould chance to be the subject of the narration--about its habits, itsgeographical range; in short, its general natural history, as well asthe various modes of hunting it, practised in different places bydifferent people. This, it was alleged, would render our campconversation instructive as well as entertaining.
The idea originated with the old hunter-naturalist, who very wiselyreasoned that among so many gentlemen of large hunting experience hemight collect new facts for his favourite science--for to just such men,and not to the closet-dreamer, is natural history indebted for its mostinteresting chapters. Of course every one of us, guides and all, warmlyapplauded the proposal, for there was no one among us averse toreceiving a little knowledge of so entertaining a character. No doubtto the naturalist himself we should be indebted for most part of it; andhis mode of communicating was so pleasant, that even the rude trapperslistened to him with wonder and attention. They saw that he was no"greenhorn" either in woodcraft or prairie knowledge, and that was asufficient claim to their consideration.
There is no character less esteemed by the regular "mountain-man" than a"greenhorn,"--that is, one who is new to the ways of their wildernesslife.
With the design of an early start, we once more crept into our severalquarters, and went to sleep.