Part 15

This was the last serious adventure that befell Mr. Reed. He met with some mishaps, but these he did not mind, and soon forgot them after his return to Cape Town, where he had the pleasure of showing his beloved herbarium, and of describing to his friends the plants he had found, and their characteristics.

SOMETHING TRUE ABOUT THE MOON.

In another part of this book I told you something about the moon, which did not even pretend to be true. No body can go to the moon, although very many people have traveled more miles than the distance between the earth and its lunar companion. Any one who has sailed from New York to Liverpool and back forty times has gone over a greater distance than that from here to the moon, which is less than 240,000 miles away.

Many a sea-captain has sailed more miles than these. A ship came into New York Bay very recently that had sailed, in one voyage over 110,000 miles.

But we cannot visit the moon because there is no atmospheric air between that planet and the earth. If air existed in this vast space in which a balloon might float, and which a man might breathe, I think that some of us would manage to get to the moon before any one reaches the North Pole. The journey would be longer, but there would be no ice to block up the way.

But notwithstanding the fact that we cannot go to the moon, we know a great deal about that planet, especially as it affects the earth. And with the great telescopes that have been constructed, in late years, we can see much of the general configuration of that side of the moon which is turned towards us, and it appears very like the picture at the head of this article. Here we see depressions and elevations, and plain surfaces which may be, and probably are, mountains and beds of dried up oceans and vast plains, which, in all probability, are barren and desolate.

For scientific men feel quite certain that the moon has no atmosphere, and of course if there is no air, we have no reason to suppose that there is any life there.

But our principal interest in the moon relates to its effects upon ourselves, and our own planet, and therefore we should all understand it as we see and enjoy it from our stand-point.

We all know that sometimes the moon is full and bright, flooding the earth with its lovely light, and that, at other times it is quite dim, just a curved strip of light in the sky, and at still other times it seems to be absent altogether.

Though we have noticed all this, it is very probable indeed that some of us do not entirely understand these changes, and so I shall briefly explain them.

When we cannot see the moon at all, which is the case for two or three days every month, it is because the sun is not shining on that side of the moon which is turned to us. And we might as well remember that although the moon moves around the earth once every four weeks, it always turns the same side to us. We never have seen the other side, with telescopes, or in any other way.

When the moon is between us and the sun, the side towards us must of course be dark. Then it is that we do not see the moon at all.

But as the moon moves gradually to one side we begin to see a little strip of the bright portion as you notice in Fig. 1. This represents the moon in its first phase.

I suppose you have noticed at such times, when the new moon is very small, that we can often see the whole disk of the moon, although the principal portion of it is very dim indeed. Still we can see a faint light shining upon it which makes it comparatively easy for us to discern its outlines.

This pale light is “earth-light.” The earth is then “full” to the moon-folk, (if there be any such creatures who can live without air,) and its brilliancy is partially reflected back to us from the surface of the moon.

The bright portion of the moon now grows larger and larger until, in about seven or eight days, we see it as it is shown in Figure 2. Then it is said to be in its first quarter.

At this time the spots and various markings on its surface are generally seen very distinctly.

For seven days the bright portion of the moon continues to grow larger and larger, and during a part of this time it presents the appearance shown in Figure 3.

At last, after about fifteen days of active increase of bright surface the moon reaches that point where the sun shines directly upon the side presented to the earth, and then it is “full moon.” Of course it must, at this time, be on the side of the earth farthest from the sun so that the sun can shine on it, and at the same time, we can see it.

Figure 4 is a small picture of the full moon.

But the moon does not remain full very long, as many of us who delight in moonlight rambles, and boat-rides, know to our sorrow. It soon begins to wane, and then assumes very much the same forms that it presented when on the increase, with this difference; its lighted portion is always turned the other way.

It now rises later and later. When it was full it rose at about the time that the sun set, and set about sunrise. But now it rises later and later until at last it rises just before the sun, and is of course soon invisible in his brighter rays.

Figures 5, 6 and 7 will give you an idea of the various phases assumed by the moon when in its wane, or decrease.

So now we have seen the moon in its various phases, which is nothing more than we can see in the heavens when the sky is clear, but it is better always to understand what we see.

We should remember, then, that one half of the moon is always bright. When it is between us and the sun (not on an exact line, however, for that would make an eclipse of the sun) we cannot see it at all, and then we say “there is no moon to-night.” When it moves around so that we can see a little of the bright side, it is “new moon,” and when it gets around behind us, so to speak, so that we can see the sun shining full upon one side of it, it is “full moon.”

If one of us could live upon that part of the surface of the moon that is always turned toward us, he could see the same changes taking place upon our planet as we see on the moon.

There would be “new earth,” and “quarter earth,” and “full earth,” which last would be truly grand!

Think of a bright orb of light in the heavens fourteen times larger than the full moon, and you will have an idea of how our earth would sometimes appear to observers on the moon,—were there any one there to see.

A VOYAGE TO THE LOWER AMAZON.

In another part of this volume there is an adventure related by Mr. Moore, in which he encountered a snow storm in a tropical country.

Mr. Moore had spent the earlier part of his life in South America; and, in after years, he was very fond of talking about these youthful days with his son George, who was a delighted listener to the travels and exploits of his father.

On one occasion Mr. Moore gave George an account of the first voyage he took on the lower part of the Amazon river, and I think it will prove almost as full of interest to my readers as it was to George Moore.

So here it is.

“I had made up my mind,” said Mr. Moore, “to overhaul the boat of Miguel Espartero. He was a Spanish South American, and captain of the sloop Bella Donna, which sloop, I had been told, was to start that very day on its voyage down the river to Para, to which place it was conveying coffee and chocolate, the produce of the river farms.

“I had some acquaintance with Captain Espartero; and I knew he did not want me on his sloop, and I guessed the reason. His ideas of hospitality would compel him to offer me his state-room, and he feared I would accept the offer. That was the reason he pretended not to see me when I first came in sight of him in the gapo. He rowed with all his might and main, without turning his head in my direction. But I thought if I could overtake him, and convince him I did not want his state-room, he would be very glad of my company.

“So I bribed my Indian rower to his best speed. The captain’s boat was several lengths ahead, and was lighter than ours, but he was not as much accustomed to rowing as my Indian, and I felt pretty sure of overtaking him in the gapo.

“What is a gapo?” said George.

“At certain seasons the Amazon river overflows its banks; and the forest land, covered by the waters, is called a gapo, and Captain Espartero was rowing through one of these to get to his sloop in the open river, and I was following him. I was afraid he would hoist sail, and away before I could reach the sloop, so I made up my mind to overhaul his boat.

“We overtook him after a little rapid rowing, and I made a bargain with him to take me down the river. He was in a hurry, he said, but I was all ready; and in half an hour we were on board the Bella Donna.”

“Why!” exclaimed George, “that is the name of a medicine!”

“The sloop was not named after the medicine, but Bella Donna is Spanish for Beautiful Lady.

“For several hours we drifted with the tide, which was running pretty fast; and then we stopped at a town to take on some chocolate. Here there were farm-houses on both banks of the river—low whitewashed buildings, looking very picturesque in the midst of the pretty cacao or chocolate trees.

“After leaving here, our progress was very slow; and, before night, we came to a dead stop. Our pilot had steered us upon a sand-bank! There was nothing for it but to wait for the tide to float us off. Fortunately we could go to sleep, and we did.

“It was a warm night, and I wrapped myself in my cloak, and laid down on some cushions on the deck. After a long time I was awakened by a splashing noise, and, lying quite still in the moonlight, I listened. There seemed to be many creatures swimming around our sloop. And then I plainly smelled a musky odor. I knew by that sign who our visitors were. I got up and looked over the side of the vessel.

“Yes, there they were! I was sure of it! Their long, villainous-looking heads were thrust out of the water, as if enjoying the moonlight. These were several alligators looking for something to eat, no doubt, and I was very glad they were not going to have a chance to eat me. I was safely out of their reach on the deck of the sloop, but the idea of having so many of these disgusting and ravenous beasts so near me disturbed my rest for a long time. So that my first night on the sloop was not particularly pleasant.

“But the second was worse. We floated off the sand-bar about daybreak, and made very good progress through the day. Very early in the night I retired to my little room in the cabin, and was soon sound asleep.

“After some time I awoke. I was conscious of a disagreeable sensation. I soon found that my hammock was rocking at a furious rate. Presently it gave a tremendous lurch, and banged my head against the wall. With some difficulty I managed to get out of the hammock, and, as soon as I put my feet on the floor, I fell down. The room was pitchy dark, and the vessel was evidently very pitchy too, though in a different way. On the deck there was a great trampling of feet.

“I scrambled up in haste, and was eager to get out of the cabin, and to see what had happened. But I could not find the door. I felt around the walls, but the door seemed to have vanished. I imagined that the ship was on fire and that I should be burned up in that little cell. I kicked, and pounded, and shrieked; and, after a long time, the uproar I made was heard on deck. Somebody came, and let me out.

“Then I found that a fearful storm was upon us. The scene had been entirely changed in an hour. All day it had been calm. There was not breeze enough to move a sail, and scarcely to ruffle the water. Now the wind was blowing violently, bending the trees until it seemed as if they would be torn up by the roots. The air was filled with whirling leaves. The river was lashed into waves, and white with foam. The lightning was almost incessant, sometimes in blinding sheets, and sometimes with flaming lines crossing each other.

“The sloop was flying over the waves as gaily as a bird. There was not a thread of canvas out. We were rushing along under bare poles.

“The Indian sailors were of no use whatever—worse than useless, for they were in an agony of terror. They were all in the shrouds and rigging, holding on for dear life. If it had not been for the pilot, the captain, and one white sailor, I don’t know what would have become of us.

“The captain assured me there was no danger, so I secured myself on deck, and watched the tempest, admiring the fine display it made, but wishing from my heart it would stop. For I preferred the certainty of safety to the captain’s assurance that we were safe.

“Fearing that the wind would blow me off the slippery deck, I had tied one end of a rope around the mast, and the other end around my waist. I suppose I did not tie it firmly, for the rope slipped from me; and I felt that I was sliding swiftly over the wet deck, on my way to the river. The sloop was tipped up at such a high angle I could not save myself. I gave a shriek; there was a crash; and down I went into the raging waters!

“For an instant I had no sensation but that of terror. Then the horror of my situation forced me to think how to save myself. I was in the midst of this boiling river, at the mercy of the furious waves, and still more furious wind. The vessel was going at a frantic speed, and would soon be far away from me. At such a time I would not be missed; and, even if I were my companions could not save me. They could do nothing except to throw me a rope, and try to hold me up until I could get to the ship’s side, when there was a possibility they might haul me up. But all this was not probable.

“These thoughts flew through my mind in a moment. Then I found I was close to the ship, but I could not see distinctly. The lightning flashes seemed to have grown very faint, and everything was obscure. The only thing I could do was to try to get up the ship’s side, and I made a desperate clutch at it. My hands failed to get hold of anything, and down I went into the water again. But I did not sink. I seemed to be borne up on the top of the waves all the time. But, of course, I did not reflect upon the strangeness of this. I made another attempt to scramble up the side of the sloop; and this time, I caught hold of an iron ring!

“How desperately I clutched it! And how I shrieked for help! But the gale made such a noise no one heard me. I found to my surprise that the rolling of the vessel dipped only my feet in the water, and that the waves did not dash over me. My situation then did not seem to be quite so hopeless, and I redoubled my cries for help.

“Soon I heard the gruff voice of the Captain calling down to me:

‘What is the matter there?’”

“‘I am overboard, and drowning,’ I shrieked in reply.

“Upon this instead of lowering a rope, he extended me his hands, and helped me up—_out of the cabin_!

“The crash I had heard was the cabin hatchway, and I had fallen through it into the room below, and into about two feet of water! The iron ring was a hammock ring. No wonder I did not see the lightning flashes down in that hole.

“The raging waves, and the tossing about in the wind, and the vessel scudding away from me had only existed in my imagination. I was so certain that I had fallen into the river that I imagined the rest.

“The tempest soon ceased, but not the laugh at me. That lasted all the way to Para. Somehow my adventure seemed more ridiculous to the Captain and the sailors than it did to me!

“We had lovely weather during the remainder of our trip. Our Bella Donna behaved very well except that she would get on a sand-bar occasionally. This was partly the pilot’s fault, and partly the fault of the river in having so many sand-bars.

‘Did not the Captain try to get his sloop off the sand-bars?’ George inquired.

“Yes, the sailors would try to work the vessel off, sometimes getting into the water, and working like Trojans. But they never did get her off; and we would just stick there until the next tide which invariably floated us on our way.

“I took advantage of these detentions to visit the shores, and explore the country. In this way I became acquainted with some very strange Indian tribes. But I saw nothing of the Amazons—the female warriors you have read of. Nor did I meet with any one who ever had seen any of them. I did find a ruined fortress, but I never heard that the Amazons had anything to do with fortresses. They trusted to their bows and spears.

“In the place of these warlike females are gentle, inoffensive Indian women, who will sell you delicious fruits, or make you a hammock for a small sum of money, or a few ornaments.

“Immense forests stretch along both banks, filled with luxuriant vegetation. To a resident, a trip on the river, sailing between these lines of forests, is tedious, and monotonous. But a stranger is constantly interested in the beautiful and wonderful plants around him.

“There are also farms along the river, and occasionally a white settlement—usually a village; rarely a town.

“And, if the vessel gets on sand-bars as often as our good sloop, the Bella Donna, the stranger will have an opportunity of seeing some of the animals of the country, Some of them are not very pleasant to meet, especially the jaguar. But the monkeys are amusing.

“At some of the mission stations among the Indians he will also see a good deal to interest him. The Indians have been taught something of agriculture, and have some very primitive machines.

“In one of my rambles I came across a sugar-cane mill, in which three Indians were at work.

“It was an enormous affair, but worked entirely by man-power. The great wheels were made to revolve by a single man working in each, very much in the style in which squirrels turn toy wheels in their cages.

“With the exception of my sad adventure during the tempest, I enjoyed the ten days’ trip on the Bella Donna very much. But ten days is enough for such a journey, and I was not sorry when I reached Para, and the sea coast.”

THE BEDOUIN ARABS.

Fine stories are told of the Bedouin Arabs. We have heard a great deal about these wandering tribes of the desert; of their hospitality to strangers; of their generosity; of their gratitude; of their affection for their fleet and beautiful horses; of the wild free life they lead. They will not allow themselves to be cooped up in towns, they will not even live in houses, but spend their lives in breezy tents, out on the wilds.

When girls and boys read these accounts their hearts glow at the thought of the happy life of the Arab children. No lessons to learn, no school to attend, no work to do. They course around on splendid horses, and their whole life is one delightful “camping out.” When they get tired of living in one place, they go to another. They dress gorgeously too! A loose, and gracefully flowing costume, made of “rich stuffs,” and costly camel’s hair cloth.

And then besides the horse they have the docile and intelligent camel to bear their burdens, and to be their companions.

Such are the pictures often drawn of Bedouin life; and, no doubt you have thought when you read them, that if these ignorant, lazy, heathen Arabs were so good, and so happy, why should you be sent to school, and taught to be industrious, and trained to follow the precepts of the Bible? To be good, and to be happy are certainly the main things, and if these Arabs have learned the secret of commanding these we had better take lessons from them.

Let us look at the accounts of reliable travelers, and see how far the descriptions of the story-writers are true.

On the next page we have an Arab chief. How do you like his looks? That long robe he has over his white cotton skirt, and the scarf on his head are of camel’s hair—there is no doubt about that—but, if you admire his bare legs and arms, and old slippers, it is more than I do. And I can tell you of something that you can’t see in the picture. The whole dress is shockingly dirty, and greasy.

Did you ever reflect how these “noble Arabs” get anything to eat? They must eat, you know, and they won’t work; so, how do they procure their food? Why, they _steal_ it. They despise their brethren who dwell in houses, and plow and plant seed. They think work is degrading. But after the farmers have got their fields in good order, and the grain is ready to cut; down comes a tribe of Bedouins and carries off the harvest!

They entertain strangers, but only to beg from them, and what they fail to get by begging they will steal, if they have a chance.

Their generosity seems to be a reckless wasting and giving away of what they ought to save; and no people can drive so hard a bargain, or cheat more readily.

As for gratitude—well—if a man has done them a favor they perhaps tell him fewer lies, and cheat him less than they do others.

The camel is a very important animal in the deserts where the Bedouins live, for he can easily tread the sands, and can live a long time without water, and can bear heavy burdens. But he is very, very stupid, and ill-natured, and obstinate. Perhaps the poor beasts would do better if they had better masters, for the Bedouins half starve them, and constantly ill-treat them; and I don’t blame the camels for resenting such conduct.

It is not likely that such a race of people would treat horses any better than they do their camels. Horses could not bear such treatment long, however. It would kill them. And in fact, the Bedouins have very few horses. The fleet and beautiful Arab steeds are owned by the Arabs who dwell in the villages and try to live somewhat as we do.

Tent life is very pleasant, for a few days, when you go out into the green woods with a party of friends. But it would be a very different thing, you would find, if you were compelled to spend your life that way; sometimes under the shade of palms, but, more frequently on the hot desert sands. Dirt and discomfort belong to an Arab tent; and legions of fleas take up their abode there.

If you were to stay with these Bedouins for awhile I think you would gladly go back to civilization and work; and you would come to the conclusion that schools and wash-tubs were good institutions.

FOOL-HARDY CARL HOFER, AND THE WATER-LADY.

A good many years ago, on the banks of the Rhine, there lived a boy named Carl Hofer. “Climbing Carl” he was often called because he excelled in climbing; and, quite as frequently, he was called “Fool-hardy Carl,” because he would put himself in very unsafe places, where no sensible person would venture. Everybody said he would be killed some day; and the wonder was that he had reached the age of fourteen years without breaking his neck. His father and mother had tried every means of curing him of these foolish ways; but, although he was a pretty good boy in regard to most things, he was very disobedient about climbing.