The Wide World Magazine, Vol. 22, No. 132, March, 1909 — John Shaqi
The Wide World Magazine, Vol. 22, No. 132, March, 1909Various
History
The Wide World Magazine, Vol. 22, No. 132, March, 1909
Various
Adventure stories -- Periodicals; English periodicals; History, Modern -- 20th century -- Periodicals; Voyages and travels -- Periodicals
A sickly, wan light had by this time appeared in the eastern sky.
A laughing jackass crashed into the tender spirit of the dawn, and
startled me for the moment by shrieking hysterically from a high gum
tree. A pale lemon glow showed over the tree-tops to the east, spread
upwards and outwards, and then gave place to a tawny yellow; the few
faint stars went out one by one, like lights in a great city at break
of day; a little bird among the boughs called sleepily to its mate,
and in another minute a noisy flock of parrakeets flew screeching
past. It was a wet, melancholy world, and when the sun showed behind
the trees like a great white quivering ball of fire, and a thin,
gauze-like mist arose from the damp sandy soil, I knew that the fierce
tropical day had once more set in.
I stepped gaily out again. Dangers? Why, the walking was almost as
good and pleasant as it was in any settled part of the country. Then,
all at once, my feet went splash! splash! into what seemed to be a
large pool of water; still on I went. In a few yards the water was
over my ankles; some fifteen or twenty yards more, and I realized
that it was up to my knees--fresh, warm, pellucid rain-water with dead
leaves and forest _débris_ floating through it. It was heavy wading,
and I paused for a moment to gain breath and look around.
There was water everywhere; it spread out like a great carpet over
the fairly level ground, and only the fine points of the very highest
grasses could be seen. Soon the flood was up to my armpits, and then
I began to swim. Even had I not been a strong swimmer, I could hardly
have been drowned, for all I had to do was to climb into a tree and
rest in the branches. In a few minutes more I came to a comparatively
open space and was swimming among the shaggy, drooping heads of
Pandanus palms. Then, all at once, I found I was being carried away by
a powerful current. I must get across that creek, wherever it was,
or else my strength must necessarily give out. Luckily my light
linen trousers and cotton shirt did not impede me much; my watertight
knapsack was but a trifling inconvenience; it was my boots that were
tiring me. I did not want boots, anyhow, in that sandy soil. I swam
hand over hand to a gum tree that reared its head above the water,
and, grasping a strong limb, drew myself up. I left my boots, tied
together by the laces, dangling over a bough, and was descending
the limb when, to my consternation, I saw just beneath me one of the
largest tiger-snakes I ever in my life had the good or ill fortune
to meet. It had doubtless been coiled round one of the upper branches
when I first came to the tree, and, being as much afraid of me as I
now was of it, had again made for the trunk, only to find its retreat
cut off. There was no time to cut a stick and have a sportive five
minutes; besides, I had but scanty footing and room to fight nimble
tiger-snakes, and so there was only one thing for it. The reptile,
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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