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Returning Home

Returning Home

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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burden to the unaccustomed traveller.  When it is absolutely necessary,—then indeed it is done without much thought; but in the case of the Arkwrights it was not absolutely necessary.  And there was another reason which turned Mrs. Arkwright’s heart against that journey by Punt’ Arenas.  The place is unhealthy, having at certain seasons a very bad name;—and here on their outward journey her husband had been taken ill.  She had never ceased to think of the fortnight she had spent there among uncouth strangers, during a portion of which his life had trembled in the balance.  Early, therefore, in those four months she begged that she might not be taken round by Punt’ Arenas.  There was another route.  “Harry, if you love me, let me go by the Serapiqui.”  As to Harry’s loving her, there was no doubt about that, as she well knew.

There was this other route by the Serapiqui river, and by Greytown.  Greytown, it is true, is quite as unhealthy as Punt’ Arenas, and by that route one’s baggage must be shipped and unshipped into small boats.  There are all manner of difficulties attached to it.  Perhaps no direct road to and from any city on the world’s surface is subject to sharper fatigue while it lasts.  Journeying by this route also, the traveller leaves San José mounted on his mule, and so mounted he makes his way through the vast primeval forests down to the banks of the Serapiqui river.  That there is a track for him is of course true; but it is simply a track, and during nine months of the twelve is so deep in mud that the mules sink in it to their bellies.  Then, when the river has been reached, the traveller seats him in his canoe, and for two days is paddled down,—down along the Serapiqui, into the San Juan River, and down along the San Juan till he reaches Greytown, passing one night at some hut on the river side.  At Greytown he waits for the steamer which will carry him his first stage on his road towards Southampton.  He must be a connoisseur in disagreeables of every kind who can say with any precision whether Greytown or Punt’ Arenas is the better place for a week’s sojourn.

For a full month Mr. Arkwright would not give way to his wife.  At first he all but conquered her by declaring that the Serapiqui journey would be dangerous for the baby; but she heard from some one that it could be made less fatiguing for the baby than the other route.  A baby had been carried down in a litter strapped on to a mule’s back.  A guide at the mule’s head would be necessary, and that was all.  When once in her boat the baby would be as well as in her cradle.  What purpose cannot a woman gain by perseverance?  Her purpose in this instance Mrs. Arkwright did at last gain by persevering.

And then their preparations for the journey went on with much flurrying and hot haste.  To us at home, who live and feel our life every day, the manufacture of endless baby-linen and the packing of mountains of clothes does not give an idea of much pleasurable excitement; but at San José, where there was scarcely motion enough in existence to prevent its waters from becoming foul with stagnation, this packing of baby-linen was delightful, and for a month or so the days went by with happy wings.

But by degrees reports began to reach both Arkwright and his wife as to this new route, which made them uneasy.  The wet season had been prolonged, and even though they might not be deluged by rain themselves, the path would be in such a state of mud as to render the labour incessant.  One or two people declared that the road was unfit at any time for a woman,—and then the river would be much swollen.  These tidings did not reach Arkwright and his wife together, or at any rate not till late amidst their preparations, or a change might still have been made.  As it was, after all her entreaties, Mrs. Arkwright did not like to ask him again to alter his plans; and he, having altered them once, was averse to change them again.  So things went on till the mules and the boats had been hired, and things had gone so far that no change could then be made without much cost and trouble.

During the last ten days of their sojourn at San José, Mrs. Arkwright had lost all that appearance of joy which had cheered up her sweet face during the last few months.  Terror at that terrible journey obliterated in her mind all the happiness which had arisen from the hope of being soon at home.  She was thoroughly cowed by the danger to be encountered, and would gladly have gone down to Punt’ Arenas, had it been now possible that she could so arrange it.  It rained, and rained, and still rained, when there was now only a week from the time they started.  Oh! if they could only wait for another month!  But this she said to no one.  After what had passed between her and her husband, she had not the heart to say such words to him.  Arkwright himself was a man not given to much talking, a silent thoughtful man, stern withal in his outward bearing, but tender-hearted and loving in his nature.  The sweet young wife who had left all, and come with him out to that dull distant place, was very dear to him,—dearer than she herself was aware, and in these days he was thinking much of her coming troubles.  Why had he given way to her foolish prayers?  Ah, why indeed?  And thus the last few days of their sojourn in San José passed away from them.  Once or twice during these days she did speak out, expressing her fears.  Her feelings were too much for her, and she could not restrain herself.  “Poor mamma,” she said, “I shall never see her!”  And then again, “Harry, I know I shall never reach home alive.”

“Fanny, my darling, that is nonsense.”  But in order that his spoken word might not sound stern to her, he took her in his arms and kissed her.

“You must behave well, Fanny,” he said to her the day before they started.  Though her heart was then very low within her, she promised him that she would do her best, and then she made a great resolution.  Though she should be dying on the road, she would not complain beyond the absolute necessity of her nature.  She fully recognised his thoughtful tender kindness, for though he thus cautioned her, he never told her that the dangers which she feared were the result of her own choice.  He never threw in her teeth those prayers which she had made, in yielding to which he knew that he had been weak.

Then came the morning of their departure.  The party of travellers consisted of four besides the baby.  There was Mr. Arkwright, his wife, and an English nurse, who was going to England with them, and her brother, Abel Ring, who was to accompany them as far as the Serapiqui River.  When they had reached that, the real labour of the journey would be over.

They had eight mules; four for the four travellers, one for the baby, a spare mule laden simply with blankets, so that Mrs. Arkwright might change in order that she should not be fatigued by the fatigue of her beast, and two for their luggage.  The portion of their baggage had already been sent off by Punt’ Arenas, and would meet them at the other side of the Isthmus of Panamà.

For the last four days the rain had ceased,—had ceased at any rate at San José.  Those who knew the country well, would know that it might still be raining over those vast forests; but now as the matter was settled, they would hope for the best.  On that morning on which they started the sun shone fairly, and they accepted this as an omen of good.  Baby seemed to lay comfortably on her pile of blankets on the mule’s back, and the face of the tall Indian guide who took his place at that mule’s head pleased the anxious mother.

“Not leave him ever,” he said in Spanish, laying his hand on the cord which was fastened to the beast’s head; and not for one moment did he leave his charge, though the labour of sticking close to him was very great.

They had four attendants or guides, all of whom made the journey on foot.  That they were all men of mixed

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