By day the boatmen might have
picked their way more carefully, but the moon was new and shed too little
light for river navigation. More than once they had to leap overboard
and, wading, shove and haul until the boats came off the mud banks into
practicable water again. They rowed hard when the course was clear,
encouraged by promises of liberal bakshish made by their employer at
Desmond's prompting. But the interruptions were so frequent that the dawn
found the boats only some thirty miles from their starting-point. The
river being here a little deeper, Desmond could afford to let the rowers
take a much-needed rest, while the boats floated down with the stream.
But as the day wore on the river again played them false, and progress
was at times reduced to scarcely more than two miles an hour. Things had
been uncomfortable in the night, but the discomforts were increased
tenfold in the day. It was the hottest season of the year; out of the
clear sky the sun's rays beat down with pitiless ferocity; the whole
landscape was a-quiver with heat; all things seemed to swoon under the
oppression. The petalas, being cargo boats, were not provided with any
accommodation or conveniences for passengers; and Desmond's thoughts as
he lay panting on his mat, haggard from want of sleep, faint from want of
food--for though there was rice on board, and the men ate freely, he had
no appetite for that--reverted to the worst period of his imprisonment in
Gheria, and he recalled the sufferings he had endured there.
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