Far From Home (32 page)

Jo rushed to fetch the pole they had been using to ward off the floating timber, but her father appeared with a rope, one end of which he threw over, hitting Edward on the head. He grabbed it and heaved and it slipped out of Cap’n Mac’s hands. ‘For God’s sake!’ Edward shouted. ‘Hurry up and get another rope!’

Cap’n Mac disappeared and Jo called to Edward, ‘Watch out, I’m going to throw this over,’ and she pushed the stave into the water.

‘Stupid girl,’ he yelled. ‘I wanted you to pull me in by it!’

‘Can’t,’ she yelled back. ‘You’d be too heavy. Hit him with it when he comes at you.’

Edward seized the stave and held it in front of him. When the crocodile was near enough for him to see its long body and powerful propelling tail, he lifted the stave and whammed it on its long snout.

‘C’mon,’ Cap’n Mac shouted from the deck. ‘I’ve got another rope. It’s fast. Climb up.’

Edward took another swipe at the reptile and then jumped towards the rope. Clinging tightly and praying it would hold, he pushed upwards with his feet against the hull of the boat, only glancing for a second at the snapping jaws of the crocodile. He fell onto the deck on his knees, gasping and shaking his head.

‘You all right?’ Jo asked, bending down to look at him.

‘Yes,’ he breathed. ‘I’m just wondering what I did to deserve all this trouble.’

‘Trouble!’ Cap’n Mac said scornfully. ‘You ain’t seen no trouble yet, mister.’

‘Look,’ Jo pointed down at the water. ‘It’s biting at the stave.’

Edward staggered to his feet and followed her gaze. The crocodile was attacking the stave with its huge sharp teeth, its wide jaws spanning the width of the wood.

‘It’s only a baby,’ she remarked as she watched it. ‘It ain’t full size. These fellas grow to fifteen feet easy. He’s only six feet or so.’ She shrugged. ‘Course, he could’ve taken your leg off, which would’ve been a real problem for you as there’s no doctor hereabouts.’

Edward stared at Jo. She’s mad! Cap’n Mac was bemoaning the loss of his rope, which was floating downriver, and muttering about the price he’d have to pay for another. They’re both mad! The sooner I’m off this boat the better I shall like it.

The next day they came into narrow water where a tangle of weed, branches and slimy sludge matted the surface. Willow trees lined the banks, their slender branches bending low over the creek. Here and there through the undergrowth, Edward spied an occasional broken-down cabin and sometimes a figure or dog beside it. By midday they reached a gap in the trees and Cap’n Mac steered towards it. The land was low-lying, with stagnant weed and thin saplings growing on it, and there was no sign of habitation.

‘Are we getting off?’ Edward asked.

The captain nodded. ‘For supplies. I’ll need a hand.’

For supplies? he thought. But there’s nothing here. Is he meeting someone? ‘Then are we heading back?’ he asked.

Cap’n Mac lifted his chin and viewed Edward through narrowed eyes. ‘Mebbe! Mebbe not. Depends.’

I could be on this damned boat for ever, Edward thought, and retorted sharply, ‘Depends! You keep saying that! Depends on what? I need to get back. I have to be in New Orleans. This is kidnapping.’ He angrily jabbed a finger. ‘In England you would be put in jail for this!’

‘In England? You English then?’ Cap’n Mac pushed back his cap and scratched his head. ‘I guessed there was sump’n odd about you.’

‘Something odd about me!’ Edward screeched. ‘I’ve been robbed. Forced onto a leaky old tub that I wouldn’t sail on a garden pond. Poisoned by noxious coffee, been nearly eaten alive by crocodiles and mosquitoes, and you say there’s something odd about me.’

Jo had come on deck and was listening to the discourse. ‘You could always walk back if you don’t want to stay.’ She waved a hand in the direction of the bank. ‘There ain’t nobody stopping you.’

‘You’re absolutely right,’ he said. ‘I can!’ He swung his leg over the side and then the other and slid into the green water. ‘Goodbye!’

‘So long,’ Jo cried. ‘Been nice meetin’ you. Watch out fer the crocs.’ She had a laugh in her voice, and as Edward struck out the short distance to the land he glanced back and saw them watching him from the deck. He hauled himself out and shook like a dog to be rid of the excess water and weed, then splashed across the quaggy land. He turned back only once to look towards the creek which lay murmuring below the low banks. There was nothing there. No smoking chimney to show where the boat had been. They’d gone.

They didn’t even wait to see if I changed my mind! He was swathed in weed and mud, his boots were squelching and tendrils of green hung from his hair. Ahead of him was waterlogged land with gnarled and twisted trees and garlands of moss hanging from them.

He straightened his shoulders and heaved out a breath. No point in hanging around here. I might as well start walking.

He was exhausted by the time he reached a shelter belt of trees. The miry swamp sucked and pulled at his boots and he wondered what venomous creatures might be waiting beneath the surface. The air was humid and sticky and at times he found himself almost up to his waist in stagnant water. The shelter belt which he had pushed towards was little more than a few stringy cottonwood trees, but the land was slightly higher and drier and he plunged into the middle of it and dropped down thankfully beneath the shade.

He licked his dry lips. How have I come to this? His body shook with fatigue and he lay down, pushing some dry leaves beneath his head for a pillow. Have I been so very wicked? His head ached and images swirled around his mind. Images of England and leaving home and the past and present became confused.

I left May and that seems like a thousand years ago, and yes it was wrong of me. Not a gentlemanly thing to do. Martin would never have done that, he mused, his thoughts drifting and his brother coming into his consciousness. But then he was always a good fellow, not like me. I wonder if he married Georgiana Gregory? They seemed to have an understanding.

And what about my poor patient mother? What did she think when I left England? He remembered that he hadn’t said goodbye but had only left her a letter. His thoughts flickered to Ruby, his young mistress. Ah, Ruby, darling girl! I shall never forget you, not ever. I should’ve married you and not May, but, poor girl, it wouldn’t have worked. He was dizzy and though his eyes were closed he had the sensation of spinning round and round.

‘Wouldn’t have worked,’ he murmured. ‘You said that I would be ashamed of you and of course, then, I would. I was so full of pride. But not now, I wouldn’t. Not now. Not now that I have been through so much. My pride has gone.’ He was vaguely aware that he was babbling, but couldn’t stop. ‘Sofia!’ he called out. ‘You tricked me. It’s your fault that I’m in this predicament. Predicament. Predicament. What a predicament!’

He dropped off into an uneasy, dream-filled sleep. He sweated with the heat and then as it grew dark he shivered and hunched into himself. ‘Mosquitoes!’ he muttered. ‘Malaria! Allen! Allen! Where are you? Fetch me some water. Damn your eyes.’ He sat up and stared into the darkness at the wizened ghostly shapes of the trees. ‘My money!’ He patted his damp jacket as if searching. ‘My pocketbook! Allen’s got it.’

He lay down again and closed his eyes. He was cold and shivery. ‘Malaria,’ he mumbled. ‘I’ve got malaria, just like Allen had. Or swamp fever. That’s it! How long have I been gone? A week? More? I’ve lost track of time. I told him – what? Two weeks, I think.’ His mind was disordered and he sought for dates. ‘Allen won’t be expecting me back just yet. He won’t be concerned. Not yet.’

As the day dawned, he tried to rise from his hard earth bed but his joints had stiffened and he couldn’t move. I’ll wait for the sun to warm me, to loosen up my joints, he thought, and fell asleep again.

He awoke when the sun filtered through the tree branches and flickered on his face. He slapped at a mosquito and turned over. ‘Fetch me that water,’ he muttered. ‘Be quick about it.’ He sat up a little later and roared ‘Rodriguez!’ at the top of his voice and then fell back and slept.

It was dark when he awoke again and he wondered what it was that had woken him. He was drenched in sweat and had a raging thirst. Then he raised his head and realized that he wasn’t sweating, but that it was raining. Raining a great deluge of wonderful clean water. He scrambled to his knees and grasping the nearest tree trunk hauled himself to his feet and staggered to the edge of the grove.

He stood with his arms held wide and his face upturned to the blue-black sky and let the rain pour over him, opening his mouth to let the moisture trickle down his throat. ‘There is a God after all,’ he gasped. ‘I was beginning to think that there wasn’t.’

After a thorough drenching he crept back into the shelter of trees and waited for morning. At the first sign of light streaking the sky he moved off. He didn’t pause to look at the shafts of vibrant colour which were heralding a new day, but simply moved one foot in front of the other and knew that if he stopped he would find it difficult to get going again.

He had stumbled on for about a mile when he realized that his direction might be wrong. The creek had been at his back when he set off, but he didn’t know from which direction it had run off the Mississippi. Was it east or west? If I turn around and go back then I’ll have to cross it. He put his hand to his head. He was dizzy from lack of food and his throat was parched again. His clothes had dried on him and were stiff with mud. I’ll go on, there will surely be a settlement or habitation. But as he looked ahead all he could see was a vast stretch of land.

He was still stumbling forward by dusk and now he hadn’t any idea of the direction he was following. There was no road, no wheel marks, no animal tracks, but he thought he could see a faint light in the distance, shining through the twilight.

A dog barked and he stopped, startled by the sound, then urged himself on. ‘If there’s a dog – if there’s a dog—’ he mumbled, but hadn’t even the strength to put into words what he was thinking.

A shack loomed up ahead. The light he had seen was coming from a window. A dog barked again and a woman’s voice called to it. But it persisted, its bark angry and urgent. ‘Hello!’ Edward attempted to hail whoever was inside, but his voice was weak and hoarse. ‘Anybody there?’

The planked door opened a crack and he saw a glimpse of someone behind it. ‘Hello,’ he called again, mustering a cracked plea. ‘Can you help me?’

‘Stay right where you are, mister.’ A woman’s voice, low and menacing, answered. ‘One move and I’ll blow your danged head off.’

Edward dropped to his knees and splayed his hands in front of him. ‘I’m not carrying a weapon,’ he croaked. ‘I need water. I’m lost.’

The door opened and a large woman came out. She had a rifle crooked into her arm and she looked as if she knew how to use it. ‘Git outa here if you know what’s good fer you, mister,’ she said threateningly. ‘Otherwise I’ll set my dawg on you.’

‘Please,’ he begged. ‘Some water! I’ve walked for miles. I need to get back to New Orleans.’

‘New Orleans?’ She came closer. ‘You goin’ in the wrong direction, mister, if you want New Orleans.’ She edged towards him and nudged him with her foot. ‘Where you walked from?’

He shook his head. ‘I was – on a – boat,’ he mumbled. ‘On the Mississippi. Then – we came into a creek. I don’t know where.’

‘Jack!’ The woman called back to the house. ‘Jack! Come on out here.’

From where he was on the ground he squinted towards the door, wondering vaguely why Jack hadn’t come out first instead of the woman, and if he was going to be sent on his way. Then, from out of the lighted doorway, he saw the shape of a large black dog. Its feet were firmly on the ground and its great head looking towards the woman.

‘Come on here,’ she commanded. ‘Seize!’

Edward held his breath for a second as he wondered if he had the strength to run, or if he should simply lie down and be torn to pieces by the brute. But the dog ambled towards him, sat down in front of him and bared his teeth into a grin.

‘Don’t think he can’t bite, mister, cos he can,’ the woman told him. ‘If he sets about you you’ll sure be sorry.’

Edward nodded. ‘I can tell,’ he muttered. ‘I can see he’s a vicious brute.’

‘He sure is.’ She kept her eyes firmly fixed on him and pointed the rifle at his chest. ‘Now git up slowly. Don’t make a sudden move or he’ll have you.’

Edward staggered to his feet, trying to keep his hands in the air. This is a nightmare, he thought. It has to be. A long, long nightmare, and I’ll wake up in my own bed back home in England.

‘Keep on walking,’ she said. ‘Go inside and I’ll take a look at you.’

The shack was barely furnished with a table, two chairs, a roughly hewn dresser and a mattress in the corner. In the middle of the room was an iron stove with a pan on it and a smell of food cooking. Edward stumbled towards it. ‘Could I have some water? Please.’

‘Water’s in the butt outside,’ she said, then pointed to a jug on the table. ‘There’s some ale in the jug.’

He seized the jug and drank straight from it, not waiting for a cup or glass. ‘Thank you,’ he gasped. ‘Thank you. I’m so grateful. I think I would have died if I hadn’t found you.’

His legs suddenly felt weak. ‘Can I sit down?’ he said and as he asked, a dizzying blackness came over him. ‘I think I’m—’

He knew no more until the morning, when he awoke in a bed on the floor. His jacket and boots had been taken off and a coarse grey blanket covered him.

The woman was by the stove with her back to him. She was tall and heavily built, with strong muscular arms below the rolled-up sleeves of her dress. She turned around and saw him watching her. Her hair was fair and hung greasily around her plump cheeks, and he guessed that she was in her thirties.

She nodded at him. ‘You back in the land of the living then?’

He tried to raise himself up but found he was curiously weak. ‘Yes.’ He dropped back on the mattress. There was no pillow. ‘How long have I been here?’

‘Dunno.’ She shrugged laconically. ‘Couple o’ days, I guess. You hungry?’

‘Yes. Very,’ he said, making an extra effort to sit up. ‘Have I really been here so long?’