She comes down every morning to my brig to sell
cakes--stays often all day. It does not matter; steer more into the
bank; we must get under the bushes. My canoe is hidden not far from
here."
As he spoke his eyes watched the broad-leaved nipas which they were
brushing in their swift and silent course.
"Look out, Nina," he said at last; "there, where the water palms end and
the twigs hang down under the leaning tree. Steer for the big green
branch."
He stood up attentive, and the boat drifted slowly in shore, Nina guiding
it by a gentle and skilful movement of her paddle. When near enough Dain
laid hold of the big branch, and leaning back shot the canoe under a low
green archway of thickly matted creepers giving access to a miniature bay
formed by the caving in of the bank during the last great flood. His own
boat was there anchored by a stone, and he stepped into it, keeping his
hand on the gunwale of Nina's canoe. In a moment the two little
nutshells with their occupants floated quietly side by side, reflected by
the black water in the dim light struggling through a high canopy of
dense foliage; while above, away up in the broad day, flamed immense red
blossoms sending down on their heads a shower of great dew-sparkling
petals that descended rotating slowly in a continuous and perfumed
stream; and over them, under them, in the sleeping water; all around them
in a ring of luxuriant vegetation bathed in the warm air charged with
strong and harsh perfumes, the intense work of tropical nature went on:
plants shooting upward, entwined, interlaced in inextricable confusion,
climbing madly and brutally over each other in the terrible silence of a
desperate struggle towards the life-giving sunshine above--as if struck
with sudden horror at the seething mass of corruption below, at the death
and decay from which they sprang.
Pages:
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104