Afloat in the Forest: or, A Voyage among the Tree-Tops

“She killed da snakes!”

“Arrah now; did yez think the Virgin Mary – a raal lady as she was – ud be afther doin’ such dhirty work as slaughter a whole island full of venomous sarpents? Not a bit av that same. It’s true they were desthroyed; but not by her own swate hands. She sinds a man to do the work for her. She sint Sant Pathrick.”

“O, I’s heerd ye ’peak ob dat man, many’s de time, Massa Tum. ’Twur him dat kill de serpents, wur it?”

“Trath was it.”

“But how’d he do it? It muss hab take um a berry long time to destroy um all.”

“There ye are intirely asthray, nager. It only occupied him wan day, an’ not all the day nayther, for he had done the work a thrifle ov a hour or so afther dinner-time.”

“Gollys! how’d he do all dat?”

“Will! ye see, he invited all the snakes to a grand banquit. He had such a charmin’ way wid him that they wun an’ all agreed to come. The place was on the top of a high mountain, – called the Hill of Howth, – far hoigher than any in the Andays we saw when crossin’ thare. The faste he had provided for them was a colliction of toads, includin’ every wun ov thim that inhabited the island. The toads he had invited too; an’ the stupid craythers, not suspictin’ anythin’, come willingly to the place.

“Now yez must undherstand, nager, that the snakes are moighty fond of toads, and frogs too; but Saint Pathrick had no ill-will against the frogs, an’ they wur exchused from comin’. As it was, the toads wur axed at an earlier hour than the snakes, an’ got first to the top of the hill; an’ while they were waitin’ there to see what was to be done, the sarpints came glidin’ up, and bein’ tould that their dinner was spread before them, they fell to, an’ swallowed up every toad upon the hill, which was every wun there was in all Oireland.”

The narrator made a long pause, either to draw breath after such a declamation, or to give time for his companion to indulge his astonishment.

“Gora!” exclaimed the latter, impatient for further explanation. “How ’bout de snakes demselves? Surely dey didn’t swallow one anodder?”

“Trath! an’ that’s jest what they did do, – every mother’s son of thim.”

“But dat ’ere doan’ ’tan’ to reezun, unless dey hab a fight one wif de odder? Splain yourself, Massa Tum.”

“Will, yez have guessed it exactly widout my sayin’ a word. They did have a foight, that went all roun’ through the whole crowd, like a shindy in Donnybrook fair. Yez would loike to hear how it begun. Will, I’ll tell ye. There was two kinds av the riptile. Wan they called ‘Ribbon snakes,’ an’ the tother ‘Orange snakes,’ by razon av their colour, both in politics and religion. They had a king over both that lived moighty foine at their expinse. But he couldn’t manage to keep thim continted with payin’ him taxes, unless by sittin’ the wan agaynst the tother. An’ this he did to the full av his satisfacshin. Now the bad blood that was betwane thim showed itself at that great gatherin’ worse than iver it had done afore. Thare wasn’t toads enough to give them all a full male; and by way of dissart they thought they’d turn to an’ ate wun another. Av course that was just what Sant Pathrick wanted; for he wasn’t plazed at their having two sorts of religion. So the ould praste hugged thim on in the quarrel, till it come to blows, an’ inded in both kinds killin’ an’ atin’ wun another till there was nothing lift av ayther exceptin’ the tails.”

“Golly! what becomed of de tails?”

“O, thim? The people jumped down from the scaffolds and gathered thim up into a hape, and thin made a great bonfire av thim, and aftherwardt spred the ashes over the groun’; and that’s what makes ould Oireland the greenest gim av the oshin.”

“But, Massa Tum, you hab say dat one ob de snakes ’scape from the genr’l congregation?”

“Trath did I say it. Wun did escape, an’ ’s livin’ to make mischief in ould Oireland to this very day.”

“Which one was he?”

“Their king.”

“De king. How you call um, Massa Tipprary?”

“The Divvel.”

Chapter Eighty

Lights Ahead

The expression of incredulity had now floated from the countenance of the Irishman to that of the African, who in turn suspected himself imposed upon. The leer in Tom’s eye plainly declared that he considered himself “quits” with his companion; and the two remained for some moments without further exchange of speech. When the conversation was resumed, it related to a theme altogether different. It was no longer on the subject of snakes, but stars.

The pilot perceived that the one hitherto guiding him was going out of sight, – not by sinking below the horizon, but because the sky was becoming overcast by thick clouds. In ten minutes more there was not a star visible; and, so far as direction went, the helm might as well have been abandoned. Tom, however, stuck to his paddle, for the purpose of steadying the craft; and the breeze, as before, carried them on in a direct course. In about an hour after, this gave token of forsaking them; and, at a still later period, the log lay becalmed upon the bosom of the lagoa.

What, next? Should they awake the others and communicate the unpleasant intelligence? Tom was of opinion that they should, while the negro thought it would be of no use. “Better let dem lie ’till,” argued he, “and hab a good night ress. Can do no good wake um up. De ole craff muss lay to all de same, till dar come anodder whif ob de wind!”

While they were disputing the points, or rather after they had done disputing, and each held his tongue, a sound reached their ears that at once attracted the attention of both. It was rather a chorus of sounds, not uttered at intervals, but continued all the time they were listening. It bore some resemblance to a distant waterfall; but now and then, mingling with the hoarser roaring of the torrent, were voices as of birds, beasts, and reptiles. None of them were very distinct. They appeared to come from some point at a great distance off. Still, they were loud enough to be distinguished, as sounds that could not proceed out of the now tranquil bosom of the lagoa.

Perhaps they might sooner have attracted the notice of the two men, but for the sighing of the breeze against the sail, and the rippling of the water as it rushed along the sides of the ceiba. When these sounds had ceased, the conversation that ensued produced the same effect; and it was only after the dispute came to a close that the disputants were made aware that something besides their own voices was disturbing the tranquillity of the night.

“What is it, I wondher?” was the remark of Tipperary Tom. “Can yez tell, Mozey?”

“It hab berry much de soun’ ob a big forress!”

“The sound av a forest? What div yez mane by that?”

“Wha’ shud I mean, but de voices ob de animal dat lib in de forress. De birds an’ de beast, an’ de tree frogs, an’ dem ’ere crickets dat chirps ’mong de trees. Dat’s what dis nigger mean.”

“I b’lieve ye’re right, nager. It’s just that same. It can’t be the wather, for that’s did calm; an’ it can’t purceed from the sky, for it don’t come in that direction. In trath it’s from the forest, as ye say.”

“In dat case, den, we muss be near de odder side ob de lagoa, as de Indyun call um, – jess wha we want to go.”

“Sowl, thin, that’s good news! Will we wake up the masther an’ till him av it? What do yez think?”

“Dis nigga tink better not. Let um all sleep till de broke ob day. Dat can’t be far off by dis time. I hab an idee dat I see de furs light ob mornin’ jess showin’ out yonner, at de bottom ob de sky. Gora! what’s yon? Dar, dar! ’trait afore de head. By golly! dar’s a fire out yonner, or someting dat hab de shine ob one. Doan ye see it, Massa Tum?”

“Trath, yis; I do see somethin’ shinin’. It a’n’t them fire-flies, div yez think?”

“No! ’ta’n’t de fire-fly. Dem ere flits about. Yon ting am steady, an’ keeps in de same place.”

“There’s a raal fire yandher, or else it’s the willy-wisp. See! be me troth thare’s two av thim. Div yez see two?”

“Dar am two.”

“That can’t be the willy-wisp. He’s niver seen in couples, – at laste, niver in the bogs av Oireland. What can it be?”

“What can which be?” asked Trevannion, who, at this moment awaking, heard the question put by Tom to the negro.

“Och, look yandher! Don’t yez see a fire?”

“Certainly; I see something very like one, – or rather two of them.”

“Yis, yis; there’s two. Mozey and meself have just discovered thim.”

“And what does Mozey think they are?”

“Trath, he’s perplixed the same as meself. We can’t make hid or tail av thim. If there had been but wan, I’d a sayed it was a willy-wisp.”

“Will-o’-the-wisp! No, it can scarce be that, – the two being together. Ah! I hear sounds.”

“Yes, masther, we’ve heerd thim long ago.”