asking for medicine. On the sixth day the Indians began to appear. They shook hands all round and then retired to the margin of the bush where they stood gazing at the camp equipment. Tony tried to photograph them but they ran away giggling like schoolgirls. Dr. Messinger spread out on the ground the goods he had brought for barter. They retired at sundown but on the seventh day they came again, greatly reinforced. The entire population of the village was there. Rosa sat down on Tony's hammock under the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr. Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want the men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses-they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr. Forbes. The Negroes returned down-stream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substancial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr. Messinger. Tony and Dr. Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr. Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map-you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr. Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr. Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.)
Three
"Mumsey, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. As things are I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me anything and I don't like to seem interfering; but what is going to happen between you and Brenda." "I don't know." "You never tell me anything," repeated Mrs. Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs. Beaver sighed. "Well I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Brat's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been black balled?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "I'd like it." "It's a beastly little house-and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get in to Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie did try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing gown and they read the newspaper together. The dressing gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton-while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs. Beaver for them." "Yes, I do think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Thiers that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say goodbye (she had a latch key of Brenda's) dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I wish you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda and she thought, 'It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way.' They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr. Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. 'Dry water course, three deserted huts, stony ground...' "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running South." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr. Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately North and South. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams," he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not river where we first camped: These rivers." "Yes, Waurupang." "This river here." "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr. Messinger. "Don't you think that possibly we have struck the upper waters of the Waurupang?" suggested Tony, "and have crossed and recrossed the stream as it winds down the valley." "It is a hypothesis," said Dr. Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr. Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr. Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into clean shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way-armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten, then it still hung about them and the stores but grew fainter until it merged into the general indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. They had left the Waurupang behind and the streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the Southeast. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr. Messinger marked the place where they stopped, Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsey?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums-Mrs. Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsey." "You would like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsey." "All right then, that's settled." At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr. Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but soon as Tony and Dr. Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief for there were few mosquitoes at this camp but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr. Messenger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr. Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. There was a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice short. Dr. Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr. Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. May be they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr. Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank and the City must from all accounts be down-stream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the brush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr. Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughing of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr. Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the water-side and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr. Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men," and she replied, "Just now." "How many days-four?-five?-how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr. Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe which would be manned solely by Indians was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine, and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an 'emergency dump' was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr. Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheek bones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Six men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and