Home > Authors Index > George Manville Fenn > Rob Harlow's Adventures: A Story of the Grand Chaco > This page
Rob Harlow's Adventures: A Story of the Grand Chaco, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
||
Chapter 17. An International Quarrel |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. AN INTERNATIONAL QUARREL "What's the matter, Rob?" said Brazier, as he turned suddenly from where he had been laying various articles of clothing out in the warm sunshine to dry and found the two lads seated together in silence, Rob with his elbows on the side of the boat and his chin in his, hands, gazing back ashore. "I can't get a word out of him, sir," said Joe. "I think it's because the lion was left behind." "Nonsense! Rob is not so childish as to fret after a toy he cannot have. Come, my lad, there is plenty to do. We must make use of the evening sun to get everything possible dry. Come and help. Wet clothes and wet sleeping-places may mean fever." Rob looked reproachfully at Joe, and began to hurry himself directly, his movement bringing him in contact with Shaddy, who was dividing his time between keeping a sharp look-out along the shore for a good halting-place suitable for making a fire, giving instructions to his men, and using a sponge with which to sop up every trace of moisture he could find within the boat. "There, Mr Rob, sir," he said as he gave the sponge a final squeeze over the side, "I think that'll about do. It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good. That storm has done one thing--given the boat a good wash-out--and if we make a big fire to-night and dry everything that got wet, we shall be all the better for it. Don't see storms like that in England, eh?" "No," said Rob shortly, and he took down and began rubbing the moisture from his gun. "Ah, that's right, my lad; always come down sharp on the rust, and stop it from going any further. Why, hullo! not going to be ill, are you?" Rob shook his head. "You look as dumps as dumps, Mr Rob, sir. I know you're put out about that great cat being left behind." Rob was silent. "That's it. Why, never mind that, my lad. You can get plenty of things to tame and pet, if you want 'em, though I say as we eight folks is quite enough in one boat without turning it into a wild beast show." Rob went on rubbing the barrel of his gun. "What do you say to a nice young pet snake, sir?" said Shaddy, with his eyes twinkling, till Rob darted an angry glance at him, when he changed his tone and manner. "Tell you what, sir, I'll get one of my boys to climb a tree first time I see an old one with some good holes in. He shall get you a nice young parrot to bring up. You'll like them; they're full of tricks, and as tame as can be. Why, one of them would live on the top of the cabin, and climb about in a way as would amoose you for hours." Rob darted another angry look at him. "And do you think I want a parrot to amuse me for hours?" he said bitterly. "Have a monkey," said Joe, who had heard the last words. "Shaddy will get you a young one, and you can pet that and teach it to play tricks without any risk to anybody, if you must have a plaything." He accompanied this with so taunting a look that it fired Rob's temper, just at a time when he was bitterly disappointed at the result of his adventure. Joe's words, too, conveyed the boy's feeling, which was something akin to jealousy of the new object which took so much of the young Englishman's thoughts. Stung then by his companion's words and look, Rob turned upon him and said sarcastically,-- "Thank you: one monkey's enough on board at a time." The young Italian's eyes flashed, as, quick as lightning, he took the allusion to mean himself, and he turned sharply away without a word, and went right aft to sit gazing back over the water. "Well, you've been and done it now, Mr Rob, and no mistake," whispered Shaddy. "You've made Master Jovanni's pot boil over on to the fire, and it ain't water, but oil." "Oh, I am sorry, Shaddy," said Rob in a low tone, for all his own anger had evaporated the moment he saw the effect of his words on the hot-blooded young Southerner. "Sorry, lad? I should think you are. Why, if I said such a thing as that to an Italian man, I should think the best thing I could do would be to go and live in old England again, where there would be plenty of policemen to take care of me." "But I was not serious." "Ay, but you were, my lad, and that's the worst of it. You said it in a passion on purpose to sting him, and he's as thin-skinned as a silkworm. He has gone yonder thinking you despise him and consider he's no better than a monkey, and if you'd set to for six hundred years trying to think out the nastiest thing you could invent to hurt his feelings you couldn't have hit on a worse." "But it was a mere nothing--the thought of the moment, Shaddy," whispered Rob. "O' course it was, dear lad, but, you see, that thought of the moment, as you call it, has put his back up. For long enough now English folk have said nasty things to Italians, comparing 'em to monkeys, because of some of 'em going over to England playing organs and showing a monkey at the end of a string. You see, they're so proud and easily affronted that such a word feels like a wapps's sting and worries 'em for days." "I'll go and beg his pardon. I am sorry." "Won't be no good now, sir. Better wait till he has cooled down." "I wish I hadn't said it, Shaddy." "Ay, that's what lots of us feels, sir, sometimes in our lives. I hit a man on the nose aboard a river schooner once, and knocked him through the gangway afterwards into the water, and as soon as I'd done it I wished I hadn't, but that didn't make him dry." "I wish he had turned round sharply and hit me," said Rob. "Ah, it's a pity he didn't, isn't it?" said Shaddy drily. "You wouldn't have hit him again, of course. You're just the sort o' young chap to let a lad hit you, and put your fists in your pockets to keep 'em quiet, and say, 'Thanky,' ain't you?" "What do you mean--that I should have hit him again?" "Why, of course I do, and the next moment you two would have been punching and wrestling and knocking one another all over the boat, till Mr Brazier had got hold of one and I'd got hold of the other, and bumped you both down and sat upon you. I don't know much, but I do know what boys is when they've got their monkeys up." "Don't talk about monkeys," whispered Rob hotly; "I wish there wasn't a monkey on the face of the earth." "Wish again, Mr Rob, sir, as hard as ever you can, and it won't do a bit o' good." "Don't talk nonsense, Shaddy," said Rob angrily. "That's right, sir; pitch into me now. Call me something; it'll do you good. Call me a rhinoceros, if you like. It won't hurt me. I've got a skin just as thick as one of them lovely animals. Go it." "I do wish you would talk sense," cried Rob, in a low, earnest whisper. "You know I've no one to go and talk to about anything when I want advice." "No, I don't," said Shaddy gruffly. "There's Muster Brazier." "Just as if he would want to be bothered when his head's full of his specimens and he's thinking about nothing else but classifying and numbering and labelling! He'd laugh, and call it a silly trifle, and tell us to shake hands." "Good advice, too, my lad, but not now. Wait a bit." "I can't wait, knowing I've upset poor old Joe like that. I want to be friends at once." "That's good talk, my lad, only it won't work at present." "Ah, now you're talking sensibly and like a friend," said Rob. "But why will it not do now?" "'Cause Mr Jovanni ain't English. He's nursing that all up, and it isn't his natur' to shake hands yet. Give the fire time to burn out, and then try him, my lad; he'll be a different sort then to deal with." Rob was silent for a few minutes. "That's good advice, Mr Rob, sir, and so I tell you; but I mustn't stop here talking. It'll soon be sundown, and then, you know, it's dark directly, and 'fore then we must be landed and the lads making a good fire. I wish Mr Brazier would come and give more orders about our halting-place to-night." "He's too busy with his plants, Shaddy; and I ought to be helping him." "Then why don't you go, my lad?" "How can I, with Joe sitting there looking as if I had offended him for life? I'll go and shake hands at once." "No, you won't, lad." "But I will." "He won't let you." "Won't he?" said Rob firmly. "I'm in the wrong, and I'll tell him so frankly, and ask him to forgive me." "And then he won't; and, what's worse, he'll think you're afraid of him, because it is his natur' to." "We'll see," said Rob; and going round outside the canvas awning by holding on to the iron stretchers and ropes, he reached the spot where Joe sat staring fixedly astern, perfectly conscious of Rob's presence, but frowning and determined upon a feud. Rob glanced back, and could see Brazier through the opening in the canvas busily examining his specimens, so as to see if any had grown damp through the rain. Then, feeling that, if he whispered, their conversation would not be heard, Rob began. "Joe!" There was no reply. "Joe, old chap, I'm so sorry." Still the young Italian gazed over the lake. "I say, Joe, it's like being alone almost, you here and I out there. We can't afford to quarrel. Shake hands, old fellow." Joe frowned more deeply. "Oh, come, you shall," whispered Rob. "I say, here, give me your hand like a man. I was put out about losing the puma, because I was sure I could tame it; and it would have made such a jolly pet to go travelling with. It could have lived on the shore and only been on board when we were going down the river. It put me out, and I said that stupid thing about the monkey." Joe started round with his eyes flashing. "Do you want me to strike you a blow?" he hissed angrily. "No; I want you to put your fist in mine and to say we're good friends again. I apologise. I'm very sorry." "Keep your apologies. You are a mean coward to call me a name like that. If we were ashore instead of on a boat, I should strike you." "No, you wouldn't," said Rob sturdily. "What! you think I am afraid?" "No; but you would be a coward if you did, because I tell you that I should not hit you again." "Because you dare not," said the young Italian, with a sneer. Rob flushed up angrily, and his words belied his feelings, which prompted him, to use his own expression, to punch the Italian's head, for he said,-- "Perhaps I am afraid, but never mind if I am. You and I are not going to quarrel about such a trifle as all this." "A trifle? To insult me as you did?" "Don't be so touchy, Joe," cried Rob. "Come, shake hands." But the lad folded his arms across his breast, and at that moment there was the sharp report of Brazier's gun and a heavy splashing in the water among the lily leaves close up to the drooping trees which hid the cause of the turmoil. There was a little excitement among the men as the boat was rowed close in under the trees, and there, half in the water, lay one of the curious animals known as a water-pig, or carpincho. A rope was immediately made fast to tow the dead animal to the halting-place to cut up for the evening meal, but before they had rowed far Shaddy shouted to the men to stop. "That won't do," he cried. "What's the matter, Shaddy?" "Matter?" growled the guide; "why, can't you see, sir? There won't be a bit left by the time we've gone a mile. Look at 'em tearing away at it. Well, I never shall have any sense in my head. To think of me not knowing any better than that!" He unfastened the rope hanging astern, and hauled the dead animal along the side to the bows of the boat, with fish large and small dashing at it and tugging away by hundreds, making the water boil, as it were, with, their rapid movement. "Tchah! I'm growing stoopid, I think," growled Shaddy as he hauled the water-pig in over the bows, the fish hanging on and leaping up at it till it was out of reach; and then their journey was continued till a suitable halting-place was reached, where by a roaring fire objects that required drying were spread out, while the meat was cooked and the coffee made, so that by the time they lay down to rest in the boat there was not much cause for fear of fever. _ |
||