Coary
turtle-hunters should return, or proceed without paddlers. The hunters
were not expected for a month. To stay a month at Coary was out of the
question. The galatea must go on manned by her own people, and the old
Indian, who was to act as pilot. Such was the determination of Ralph
Trevannion. But for that resolve,--rash as it was, and ending
unfortunately for him who made it,--we should have no story to tell.

CHAPTER IV.

DRIFTING WITH THE CURRENT.

The craft that carried the ex-miner, his family and following, once more
floated on the broad bosom of the Solimoes. Not so swift as before,
since, instead of eight paddlers, it was now impelled by only half the
number,--these, too, with less than half the experience of the crew who
had preceded them.

The owner himself acted as steersman, while the paddles were plied by
"Tipperary Tom," Mozey, the old Indian,--who, being of the Mundurucu
tribe, passed by the name of "Monday,"--and Richard Trevannion.

The last, though by far the youngest, was perhaps the best paddler in
the party. Brought up in his native place of Gran Para, he had been
accustomed to spend half his time either in or upon the water; and an
oar or paddle was to him no novelty.

Young Ralph, on the contrary, a true mountaineer, knew nothing of
either, and therefore counted for nothing among the crew of the galatea.
To him and the little Rosa was assigned the keeping of the pets, with
such other light duties as they were capable of performing.

For the first day the voyage was uninterrupted by any incident,--at
least any that might be called unpleasant. Their slow progress, it is
true, was a cause of dissatisfaction; but so long as they were going at
all, and going in the right direction, this might be borne with
equanimity. Three miles an hour was about their average rate of speed;
for half of which they were indebted to the current of the river, and
for the other half to the impulsion of their paddles.

Considering that they had still a thousand miles to go before reaching
Gran Para, the prospect of a protracted voyage was very plainly outlined
before them.

Could they have calculated on making three miles an hour for every hour
of the twenty-four, things would not have been bad. This rate of speed
would have carried them to their destination in a dozen days,--a mere
bagatelle. But they knew enough of river-navigation to disregard such
data. They knew the current of the Solimoes to be e