Dangerous Inheritance (43 page)

When the old Headman had finished treating Douglas he had the wounded man carried into an empty hut; then two of the women brought their visitors a calabash, in which there was a cold, mealy mush, some pieces of dried meat and several coconuts, the eyes of which had been pierced. As they ate they
could not tell whether the meat was pig or venison, and it was very tough; but they found the fresh coconut water delicious.

During their five-mile tramp their legs had pained them badly, but they had put that down to tiredness. Now, the fire having been made up, they saw that between their ankles and knees there clung a number of repulsive leeches, some of which were over four inches in length. With an exclamation of disgust, Fleur made to pull one of the slimy brutes from her instep, but with it the skin began to come away and a native standing nearby swiftly stopped her. Taking a glowing brand from the fire he applied it to one after the other of the leeches and, sizzling up, they dropped off.

When they had finished their meal and smiled their thanks the Headman signed to them to go into the wigwam into which Douglas had been carried. It was no higher than Fleur's head and had only a hole for entrance. Having crawled inside they found it did not contain even a mattress; but the flooring consisted of leaves several inches deep, so was comparatively soft. In the close, hot darkness they at once heard the infuriating whine of mosquitoes, but they were so utterly weary that, after slapping ineffectually for a few minutes at their foreheads, wrists and ankles, they settled down on either side of Douglas who, although breathing stertorously, was sound asleep.

Some hours later they were roused by his suddenly becoming delirious, shouting nonsense and striving to tear off his bandages. While Truss restrained him, Fleur crawled out to see if she could find the Headman. By then dawn had come and the natives were already moving about their camp. The Headman had their patient carried out into the open, forced him to swallow some sort of potion that quietened him and, soon afterwards, sent him off to sleep again.

Only then did Fleur and Truss have a chance to take proper stock of themselves. Being young and healthy sleep had somewhat restored their vitality, but during the night the mosquitoes had made a fine meal off them and their legs were dotted with big, black ticks. Truss produced the tin of quinine tablets from his pocket and they swallowed a few, then they set about removing the ticks, which had swollen from the size of
pinheads to that of peas. Fleur had met with ticks before, when making trips up-country, and knew that if the head of a tick is left in it continues to suck blood; so they again resorted to a burning brand which, when applied, made the ticks drop off, but their legs were now semi-raw and their faces and arms puffy from stings.

For breakfast they were given the same fare as before, and, while they ate it, the Kuravars provided them with an entertainment of snake charming and a dancing bear. They also had some performing loris—small monkeys which resemble humans more nearly than any other species, and have big, pathetic eyes that are almost blind in daylight.

Fleur and Truss clapped, smiled and did their best to show appreciation to their good-natured hosts, but their minds were occupied with worrying about Douglas and the problem of securing proper medical attention for him. It therefore came as a most welcome surprise when they saw two of the natives emerge from the forest with a rough stretcher made from intertwined branches, and two others carry Douglas from the wigwam to lay him upon it.

The Headman signed to Truss to untie the little horse. Swiftly he decided, as they had no further use for it, to leave it as a token of their gratitude, and conveyed his meaning by a gesture of refusal then pointing at the Headman. There being nothing further to detain them, the Headman led the way from the camp, followed by the four bearers carrying the stretcher, with Fleur and Truss bringing up the rear.

The Headman did not take the road, but a narrow path which, after a quarter of a mile, debouched into a much broader way. Here and there torn branches, six to ten feet up, and the heavily trampled appearance of the track showed it to be an elephant road along which a herd had recently passed and fed. They followed its windings for the best part of two hours without halting, then emerged into another clearing where there was a fair-sized bungalow and several long, leaf-thatched sheds. By then, for some time past Douglas had again become delirious, his forehead was almost burning to the touch and it was obvious that he was in a high fever.

The barking of a dog brought out from one of the sheds two men, both naked to the waist but wearing big turbans and colourful cotton skirts. The elder conferred with the Headman in his own language then turned to Truss and Fleur and gave them a courteous welcome in Sinhalese. She told him that they had been on their way to Kalkudah when their car had broken down, that when trying to find help they had become lost in the jungle and benighted there, then been attacked by the leopard.

He had Douglas carried into the house and, after an exchange of many friendly expressions in dumb-show with the Kuravars, the gipsies took their departure. Having examined Douglas's wounds, their new host put some ointment on them and gave him a soothing drink, but it was clear that he was far from happy about the state of the injured man. When Fleur asked if there were any means by which Douglas could be taken to a hospital, he shook his head and said gravely:

‘This man has suffered much from having been carried so far. To move him further would prove fatal. It is not only the blood he has lost, but he now has fever of the brain. His only hope lies in rallying his strength by rest, so he must remain here. I will do what I can for him but his fate lies in the hands of Allah, the Merciful, the Compassionate; Blessed be His Name and that of his Prophet. By midday we should know if it is decreed that your friend is to live or die.'

When Fleur translated this to Truss, he protested, ‘But we can't just leave it at that. If he can't be moved we must fetch a doctor to him. One can tell from the sun that we've been moving north-east this morning; so we can't be a great way from the coast. Ask this guy how far it is to Kalkudah and if he has any transport.'

For some minutes Fleur talked to their turbaned companion, then she said in English, ‘These people are Moormen, Indian Mohammedans, most of whom live on the east coast. The younger man we saw was this man's son and he has another. They earn their living by hunting the big lizards, like the one you trod on in the pool, and get good money for the skins because they are in great demand for making women's shoes. He says it is about fifteen miles to Kalkudah, and no transport
is available because they have only one horse and cart and his other son set off there with a load of dried skins this morning just before we got here.'

‘If it's only fifteen miles I can walk it,' Truss declared, ‘and I'll bring a doctor back with me. Ask him to draw me a map so that I can find my way there.'

‘No!' Fleur replied firmly, with a quick shake of her head. ‘I'll not let you. There can be very few white men in a little town like that. It would be as good as giving yourself up, and after all you've done that would mean several years in prison.'

With an unhappy frown, Truss said, ‘I know that, honey. But you'll have not forgotten there was a time when I left Douglas to drown. I'll not have it on my conscience that a second time I failed to do all I could to save him. If I'm caught that will just be too bad; I'll have to risk it.'

Fleur grasped his arm and he felt her fingernails dig into it. ‘I tell you I won't let you go. I'd feel I just might have to if there were a real chance of your doing any good. But it would take you the best part of four hours to walk into Kalkudah; then you'd have to find a doctor and, even in a car, six or seven hours would be gone before you could bring him back here. The Moorman says that by midday we'll know if Douglas is to live or die; so by the middle of the afternoon a doctor won't influence the outcome either way.'

Giving him an angry shake, she hurried on, ‘And there is another thing. If you are arrested I will be soon afterwards. I may not get as long a sentence as you, but if you insist on this quixotic act you will be sending me, too, to prison.'

Her first argument was based on sound sense; her second loaded with feminine guile. Combined, they weighed so heavily with Truss that he reluctantly agreed to abandon his plan and resign himself to inactivity.

After listening to their fierce argument without understanding it, the Moorman treated their faces, arms and legs with another ointment that considerably relieved the heat and pain from which they were suffering; then he left them with Douglas.

The room was clean but had only the mattress on which Douglas was lying and some bearskin rugs and cushions on the
floor. Still in bad need of sleep after their appalling night, they lay down on the rugs and dozed through the morning, dropping off now and then, but rousing each time Douglas was seized with another bout of delirium.

At midday the Moorman came in again, examined the patient and, as he was neither better nor worse, said there seemed a fair chance that he might now pull through. He then took Fleur and Truss into another room, where a shy-eyed youngish woman, wearing a yashmak, served him, his son and the visitors with a meal of rice, plovers' eggs, vegetables, fruit and tea, which they ate sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Soon after Fleur and Truss had returned to sit beside Douglas, someone switched on a radio in the next room. For a few minutes it played music, then the announcer started the daily two o'clock news summary. As there was no door to the airy room they could hear the Sinhalese words quite clearly. Suddenly Fleur looked across at Truss in dismay, for she had realised that one of the first items was about themselves.

‘The search continues,' the voice box blared, ‘for Douglas Rajapakse, who escaped from prison on Thursday evening with the aid of his wife and a young American named Van Ryn. After abandoning their own car, and later a stolen Ford which was found thirteen miles south of Dambulla, it is now believed that they were responsible for the theft of a horse and covered cart from a bungalow in a suburb of the town and continued their journey in it. During the past twenty-four hours no further information has been released to indicate the road that the fugitives have taken but the police are pursuing several promising lines of investigation.'

There followed descriptions of Douglas, Fleur and Truss, and the offer of two thousand rupees reward for information which would lead to their capture.

When Fleur told Truss what the announcer had been saying, he exclaimed, ‘This is bad, real bad, honey. If these people tumble to it that it's us the police are after they'll surely turn us in.'

‘I don't think they would just to please the Government,' Fleur replied. ‘Like the Hindus and Christians, the
Mohammedans have become the victims of Buddhist fanaticism, and they naturally resent it.'

‘Maybe, but two thousand rupees must mean a lot to them.'

‘It would certainly tempt them,' she agreed. ‘But we've come a long way from Dambulla, and there are thousands of white people in Ceylon; so there is a good chance that they won't connect us with the announcement.'

Truss remained uneasy. He would have liked to get Fleur out of the house and slip away with her along some jungle track that led towards the coast, rather than risk the possibility that the Moorman had realised that they were the fugitives and might send his other son in to Kalkudah to fetch the police. But they could not leave Douglas.

During the long hours of the afternoon he continued to alternate between long spells of coma and brief ones of delirium, but during each of the latter his ramblings grew weaker.

Fleur frequently bathed his temples and from time to time gave him a drink, but his handsome face gradually became a putty colour and his cheeks seemed to be falling in. On three occasions the Moorman came in to have a look at him and on the last only shook his turbaned head, then went out again without saying a word. As he left them Fleur burst into a passion of tears and continued to sob for many minutes, as though her heart would break.

All Truss's efforts to comfort her having failed and fearing that she would exhaust herself, he said at last, ‘Come, honey, I know how you're feeling; but if you continue to carry on this way I'll begin to think you love him more than you do me.'

As he had hoped, his implication took immediate effect. Choking back her sobs she turned a tear-stained face to him. ‘It's not that. You know it's not. But he is such a fine person. It's terrible to see him like this. And I owe him my life. If he hadn't pushed me aside and taken my place, I'd be lying there now instead of him.'

At a little before six o'clock Douglas opened his eyes and they suddenly realised that he had regained consciousness. Fleur took his hand and he pressed it feebly. Recognising her, he
lifted his head a little and murmured with a smile, ‘Fleur, my sweet Fleur. You … have been my life's blessing.' Then his head fell back and he was dead.

Burying her face in her hands, Fleur sobbed, ‘He never knew. Oh, thank God! He never knew.'

Truss nodded. ‘Yes; at least he was spared that, and I feel a heel beside him. But he's out of all his troubles now.'

It was at that moment that the Moorman again came in. After one glance at Douglas, with the resignation of an Oriental, he said:

‘It was decreed. The fate of every man is bound about his brow. My elder son has just returned from Kalkudah. The three of us will make preparations for the burial.'

Less than an hour later they stood beside a three-foot-deep grave, that the Moorman and his sons had dug while Truss did his best to comfort Fleur. As Douglas's body was laid in it there could be no ceremony, but in their different ways all five of them sent up silent prayers for him.

Sunset had come, so it would have been madness for Truss and Fleur to leave that evening and again risk becoming lost at night in the jungle. But they continued to be acutely worried; not only by the possibility that the Moorman might, while they slept, again send off his elder son in the horse and cart, this time to fetch the police, but also because for the second day they had failed to arrive at the rendezvous; so by now Rex might have given up hope that they would reach it and have taken the aircraft back to Colombo.