Jules Verne (2 page)

For the last time Torres glanced over the yellow paper, and then, after
carefully folding it, put it away into a little copper box which he used
for a purse. This box was about as big as a cigar case, and if what was
in it was all Torres possessed he would nowhere have been considered
a wealthy man. He had a few of all the coins of the neighboring
States—ten double-condors in gold of the United States of Colombia,
worth about a hundred francs; Brazilian reis, worth about as much;
golden sols of Peru, worth, say, double; some Chilian escudos, worth
fifty francs or more, and some smaller coins; but the lot would not
amount to more than five hundred francs, and Torres would have been
somewhat embarrassed had he been asked how or where he had got them. One
thing was certain, that for some months, after having suddenly abandoned
the trade of the slave hunter, which he carried on in the province of
Para, Torres had ascended the basin of the Amazon, crossed the
Brazilian frontier, and come into Peruvian territory. To such a man the
necessaries of life were but few; expenses he had none—nothing for his
lodging, nothing for his clothes. The forest provided his food, which in
the backwoods cost him naught. A few reis were enough for his tobacco,
which he bought at the mission stations or in the villages, and for a
trifle more he filled his flask with liquor. With little he could go
far.

When he had pushed the paper into the metal box, of which the lid shut
tightly with a snap, Torres, instead of putting it into the pocket of
his under-vest, thought to be extra careful, and placed it near him in
a hollow of a root of the tree beneath which he was sitting. This
proceeding, as it turned out, might have cost him dear.

It was very warm; the air was oppressive. If the church of the nearest
village had possessed a clock, the clock would have struck two, and,
coming with the wind, Torres would have heard it, for it was not more
than a couple of miles off. But he cared not as to time. Accustomed to
regulate his proceedings by the height of the sun, calculated with more
or less accuracy, he could scarcely be supposed to conduct himself with
military precision. He breakfasted or dined when he pleased or when he
could; he slept when and where sleep overtook him. If his table was not
always spread, his bed was always ready at the foot of some tree in the
open forest. And in other respects Torres was not difficult to please.
He had traveled during most of the morning, and having already eaten a
little, he began to feel the want of a snooze. Two or three hours' rest
would, he thought, put him in a state to continue his road, and so he
laid himself down on the grass as comfortably as he could, and waited
for sleep beneath the ironwood-tree.

Torres was not one of those people who drop off to sleep without certain
preliminaries. HE was in the habit of drinking a drop or two of strong
liquor, and of then smoking a pipe; the spirits, he said, overexcited
the brain, and the tobacco smoke agreeably mingled with the general
haziness of his reverie.

Torres commenced, then, by applying to his lips a flask which he carried
at his side; it contained the liquor generally known under the name of
"chica"
in Peru, and more particularly under that of
"caysuma"
in
the Upper Amazon, to which fermented distillation of the root of the
sweet manioc the captain had added a good dose of
"tafia"
or native
rum.

When Torres had drunk a little of this mixture he shook the flask, and
discovered, not without regret, that it was nearly empty.

"Must get some more," he said very quietly.

Then taking out a short wooden pipe, he filled it with the coarse
and bitter tobacco of Brazil, of which the leaves belong to that
old
"petun"
introduced into France by Nicot, to whom we owe the
popularization of the most productive and widespread of the solanaceae.

This native tobacco had little in common with the fine qualities of our
present manufacturers; but Torres was not more difficult to please in
this matter than in others, and so, having filled his pipe, he struck a
match and applied the flame to a piece of that stick substance which
is the secretion of certain of the hymenoptera, and is known as "ants'
amadou." With the amadou he lighted up, and after about a dozen whiffs
his eyes closed, his pipe escaped from his fingers, and he fell asleep.

TORRES SLEPT for about half an hour, and then there was a noise among
the trees—a sound of light footsteps, as though some visitor was
walking with naked feet, and taking all the precaution he could lest
he should be heard. To have put himself on guard against any suspicious
approach would have been the first care of our adventurer had his eyes
been open at the time. But he had not then awoke, and what advanced
was able to arrive in his presence, at ten paces from the tree, without
being perceived.

It was not a man at all, it was a "guariba."

Of all the prehensile-tailed monkeys which haunt the forests of the
Upper Amazon—graceful sahuis, horned sapajous, gray-coated monos,
sagouins which seem to wear a mask on their grimacing faces—the guariba
is without doubt the most eccentric. Of sociable disposition, and not
very savage, differing therein very greatly from the mucura, who is as
ferocious as he is foul, he delights in company, and generally travels
in troops. It was he whose presence had been signaled from afar by the
monotonous concert of voices, so like the psalm-singing of some church
choir. But if nature has not made him vicious, it is none the less
necessary to attack him with caution, and under any circumstances a
sleeping traveler ought not to leave himself exposed, lest a guariba
should surprise him when he is not in a position to defend himself.

This monkey, which is also known in Brazil as the "barbado," was of
large size. The suppleness and stoutness of his limbs proclaimed him a
powerful creature, as fit to fight on the ground as to leap from branch
to branch at the tops of the giants of the forest.

He advanced then cautiously, and with short steps. He glanced to
the right and to the left, and rapidly swung his tail. To these
representatives of the monkey tribe nature has not been content to give
four hands—she has shown herself more generous, and added a fifth, for
the extremity of their caudal appendage possesses a perfect power of
prehension.

The guariba noiselessly approached, brandishing a study cudgel, which,
wielded by his muscular arm, would have proved a formidable weapon.
For some minutes he had seen the man at the foot of the tree, but the
sleeper did not move, and this doubtless induced him to come and look at
him a little nearer. He came forward then, not without hesitation, and
stopped at last about three paces off.

On his bearded face was pictured a grin, which showed his sharp-edged
teeth, white as ivory, and the cudgel began to move about in a way that
was not very reassuring for the captain of the woods.

Unmistakably the sight of Torres did not inspire the guariba with
friendly thoughts. Had he then particular reasons for wishing evil to
this defenseless specimen of the human race which chance had delivered
over to him? Perhaps! We know how certain animals retain the memory of
the bad treatment they have received, and it is possible that against
backwoodsmen in general he bore some special grudge.

In fact Indians especially make more fuss about the monkey than any
other kind of game, and, no matter to what species it belongs, follow
its chase with the ardor of Nimrods, not only for the pleasure of
hunting it, but for the pleasure of eating it.

Whatever it was, the guariba did not seen disinclined to change
characters this time, and if he did not quite forget that nature had
made him but a simple herbivore, and longed to devour the captain of the
woods, he seemed at least to have made up his mind to get rid of one of
his natural enemies.

After looking at him for some minutes the guariba began to move round
the tree. He stepped slowly, holding his breath, and getting nearer and
nearer. His attitude was threatening, his countenance ferocious. Nothing
could have seemed easier to him than to have crushed this motionless man
at a single blow, and assuredly at that moment the life of Torres hung
by a thread.

In truth, the guariba stopped a second time close up to the tree, placed
himself at the side, so as to command the head of the sleeper, and
lifted his stick to give the blow.

But if Torres had been imprudent in putting near him in the crevice of
the root the little case which contained his document and his fortune,
it was this imprudence which saved his life.

A sunbeam shooting between the branches just glinted on the case, the
polished metal of which lighted up like a looking-glass. The monkey,
with the frivolity peculiar to his species, instantly had his attention
distracted. His ideas, if such an animal could have ideas, took another
direction. He stopped, caught hold of the case, jumped back a pace or
two, and, raising it to the level of his eyes, looked at it not without
surprise as he moved it about and used it like a mirror. He was if
anything still more astonished when he heard the rattle of the gold
pieces it contained. The music enchanted him. It was like a rattle in
the hands of a child. He carried it to his mouth, and his teeth grated
against the metal, but made no impression on it.

Doubtless the guariba thought he had found some fruit of a new kind, a
sort of huge almost brilliant all over, and with a kernel playing freely
in its shell. But if he soon discovered his mistake he did not consider
it a reason for throwing the case away; on the contrary, he grasped it
more tightly in his left hand, and dropped the cudgel, which broke off a
dry twig in its fall.

At this noise Torres woke, and with the quickness of those who are
always on the watch, with whom there is no transition from the sleeping
to the waking state, was immediately on his legs.

In an instant Torres had recognized with whom he had to deal.

"A guariba!" he cried.

And his hand seizing his manchetta, he put himself into a posture of
defense.

The monkey, alarmed, jumped back at once, and not so brave before a
waking man as a sleeping one, performed a rapid caper, and glided under
the trees.

"It was time!" said Torres; "the rogue would have settled me without any
ceremony!"

Of a sudden, between the hands of the monkey, who had stopped at about
twenty paces, and was watching him with violent grimaces, as if he would
like to snap his fingers at him, he caught sight of his precious case.

"The beggar!" he said. "If he has not killed me, he has done what is
almost as bad. He has robbed me!"

The thought that the case held his money was not however, what then
concerned him. But that which made him jump was the recollection that it
contained the precious document, the loss of which was irreparable, as
it carried with it that of all his hopes.

"Botheration!" said he.

And at the moment, cost what it might to recapture his case, Torres
threw himself in pursuit of the guariba.

He knew that to reach such an active animal was not easy. On the ground
he could get away too fast, in the branches he could get away too far. A
well-aimed gunshot could alone stop him as he ran or climbed, but Torres
possessed no firearm. His sword-knife and hoe were useless unless he
could get near enough to hit him.

It soon became evident that the monkey could not be reached unless by
surprise. Hence Torres found it necessary to employ cunning in dealing
with the mischievous animal. To stop, to hide himself behind some tree
trunk, to disappear under a bush, might induce the guariba to pull up
and retrace his steps, and there was nothing else for Torres to try.
This was what he did, and the pursuit commenced under these conditions;
but when the captain of the woods disappeared, the monkey patiently
waited until he came into sight again, and at this game Torres fatigued
himself without result.

"Confound the guariba!" he shouted at length. "There will be no end to
this, and he will lead me back to the Brazilian frontier. If only he
would let go of my case! But no! The jingling of the money amuses him.
Oh, you thief! If I could only get hold of you!"

And Torres recommenced the pursuit, and the monkey scuttled off with
renewed vigor.

An hour passed in this way without any result. Torres showed a
persistency which was quite natural. How without this document could he
get his money?

And then anger seized him. He swore, he stamped, he threatened the
guariba. That annoying animal only responded by a chuckling which was
enough to put him beside himself.

And then Torres gave himself up to the chase. He ran at top speed,
entangling himself in the high undergrowth, among those thick brambles
and interlacing creepers, across which the guariba passed like a
steeplechaser. Big roots hidden beneath the grass lay often in the way.
He stumbled over them and again started in pursuit. At length, to his
astonishment, he found himself shouting:

"Come here! come here! you robber!" as if he could make him understand
him.

His strength gave out, breath failed him, and he was obliged to stop.
"Confound it!" said he, "when I am after runaway slaves across the
jungle they never give me such trouble as this! But I will have you, you
wretched monkey! I will go, yes, I will go as far as my legs will carry
me, and we shall see!"

The guariba had remained motionless when he saw that the adventurer had
ceased to pursue him. He rested also, for he had nearly reached that
degree of exhaustion which had forbidden all movement on the part of
Torres.

He remained like this during ten minutes, nibbling away at two or three
roots, which he picked off the ground, and from time to time he rattled
the case at his ear.