by Kay Thorpe
there was a sudden note of intolerance in it. 'Which berth do you plan on using?'
`Any. It doesn't matter.' She put out a hand and touched the one nearest to where she was standing, controlling the trembling of her limbs by sheer effort of will. 'This one.'
He came over and took bedding from the locker beneath, deftly stripped off the outer cover, and had both sheets and blankets in place with practised efficiency almost before Keely could blink. That done, he pulled down the upper berth from its fixed position against the bulkhead and locked it into place, then took the length of muslin net and clipped it on to a hook protruding from the underside of the berth so that it was held clear of the middle, folding the outer edge back.
`Pull that down once you're in,' he said, 'and you'll be safe from all intruders apart from the most insistent.' There was satire in the last. 'Do you always sleep nude, or do I take it last night's effort was in place of something you forgot to bring with you?' He shrugged when she didn't answer and went to another locker to fish out a cotton button-through shirt of his own. 'Here, try this for size. Not exactly conventional, but beggars can't be choosers. Got everything else you need?'
Keely nodded, not trusting her voice. Was he being deliberately unpredictable she wondered, or had he really lost interest in pursuing that night's threat? Either way, she was safe, it appeared, for one night at least from his advances.
`Okay then.' He took a last glance around as if to reassure himself that all was as it should be. 'Have a good night, honey. Don't dream about me.'
`If I did it would be more of a nightmare.' It sounded weak, and she knew it, but it was the best she could conjure at the moment. 'Is it tomorrow night we reach that Indian village you spoke about to Paul?'
`If we're lucky.' He turned on the bottom rung, voice altering a fraction. 'Incidentally, you'd better cool that temper of yours while we're with these people. Indian women don't argue with their menfolk in public, and I can't afford to lose face if we're going to get them to come with us up river. Understood?' He didn't bother waiting for a reply.
Keely muttered something short and sharp under her breath and felt better for it. She undressed quickly, managed a strip wash down with what hot water was left in the kettle after making her drink, and pulled on the shirt Greg had left her with an undeniable fluttering sensation inside her. It was miles too big, of course, but with the sleeves rolled up and the buttons fastened it made an adequate if unglamorous covering against a night gone chill and damp.
Sliding in between clean sheets, she spared a thought for the men out there on the after-deck, hoping they wouldn't be too uncomfortable. Apart from Greg, that was. Nothing she could wish on him would be bad enough. Not that he was likely to suffer discomfort of any kind. He was too used to roughing it. This was his world. Right now he was welcome to it.
CHAPTER SIX
JASON was both sheepish and seriously under the weather in the morning when Keely came on deck. He came across to her at once, face pale and shining with perspiration even at that early hour.
`I owe you an apology for last night,' he offered with endearing frankness. 'I can't take alcohol in any quantity. It makes me over-confident. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I've a vague notion I made an idiot of myself.'
`Only if you count making yourself ill,' she assured him quickly. 'Anyway, being able to drink neat whisky without any ill effects would be nothing to boast about.'
`I'm glad you see it that way.' He hesitated as if about to add something further, then caught sight of Greg watching the two of them from the bows and closed up again abruptly. 'Think I'll go below and lie down,' he muttered. 'I shouldn't be needed for a while. The water level has gone down quite a lot.'
It had too, somewhat to Keely's relief. There had been something fear-inspiring in the sheer force of the river yesterday afternoon after the storm. But it would rise again, she reminded herself, as soon as it rained. Storms like yesterday's were only the forerunner of what was to come.
Sir Mark had gone ashore with one of the cabaclos as soon as it was light enough to see, the two of them vanishing into the forest after a few short steps with no sign of their passing other than a few bent branches and quivering leaves. Despite his assurance that he would not wander far from the river, Keely worried about him until he reappeared, still in close company with the stoic half-breed and
eager to display the spoils of his excursion to the nephew who had not been willing to accompany him.
Keely passed off Jason's indisposition as a stomach upset, conscious of but ignoring Greg's derisive expression. She was glad when they put out from the bank to start their day's journeying. Apart from the times when Greg handed over control of the Dorita to Quito, which commendably wasn't very often, he would be far too busy navigating the fast running waters to spare any time for her.
The day wore on, hot, sticky and pest-ridden, conditions alleviated somewhat when the river widened to several hundred yards. It rained again towards noon, but only for twenty minutes or so, leaving the air freshened and temporarily free of the cloying sweetness. There was more
debris in the water, which signified serious erosion of the banks by flood waters further up, but they managed to avoid the most dangerous hazards by keeping a sharp look-out off the bow.
Jason surfaced at lunchtime looking decidedly peaky and sorry for himself. He mumbled uncomfortably in answer to his uncle's solicitous inquiries, but did not enlighten him as to the cause of the malaise.
`Thanks,' he said afterwards to Keely. 'Providing Greg doesn't see fit to tell him what happened he needn't ever know his trusted assistant got himself sloshed the moment the going got a bit tough.'
Is the going so tough?' she asked after a moment, thinking of what was still to come in the days ahead. 'Apart from the insects I'm quite enjoying it, and even they aren't too bad if we don't get too near the banks. The point that worries me is when we transfer to canoes tomorrow. We'll be a whole lot closer to the water then, and to the piranha.' She tried to make a joke of it. 'I'll have to keep reminding myself' not to dangle a hand over the side. I need all my fingers to hold on to my camera.'
,
`You'd brave anything for your job, wouldn't you?' he commented with a crooked little smile. 'I wish I felt the same way.'
They were sitting right in the stern of the boat and Sir Mark was up for'ard. Keely felt safe in delving a little deeper into Jason's obvious problems. Did you take up botany only to please your uncle?' she asked bluntly.
He hesitated before shaking his head. Not entirely. I've always been fascinated by plant biology. Only I'd be completely content to follow my interests on home ground, working at the Institute, instead of chasing half way round the world collecting new specimens. We're not even certain this one exists. Just because Greg happened to have read Inman's description and thought he recognised a similarity it doesn't have to follow he was right. If he was sure of his facts he could have gone looking for the mother plant there and then instead of haring back down river to fetch Mark out on what could very well turn out to be a wild goose chase.'
`If he'd waited to search he might have missed catching you before you went back to England,' Keely pointed out. `I'd have thought the obvious- thing would have been for him to bring back the flower he did see as a proof.'
`Apparently the woman wouldn't part with it. This particular tribe is so isolated they'd never seen a white man before Greg went there. If he'd simply taken it from her they might easily have turned nasty. They still might, if it comes to that. It's not unknown for Indians to kill travellers in the remoter areas. They're still savages when it all boils down.'
The more she heard the more Keely was coming to realise the possible true basis of Greg's reluctance to bring a woman on this trip. It didn't help her sense of adequacy at all. She felt sorry for Jason, bound by loyalty to a way of life he found increasingly distasteful. She wanted to suggest
that he told Sir Mark how he felt, but she wasn't sure she
had the right to interfere. Jason was old enough to do his own working out.
They entered the Canidas at three via an overhung tunnel of trees which scraped the cabin roof and necessitated the temporary removal of the after-deck awning, emerging on a width of river little more than fifty feet across and actually flowing backwards at this point of convergence owing to the enormous pressure from the Negro below. Where the pressures eventually became equal the river was as still as a pond, the surface covered in floating debris and dust like a littered floor, semi-reflectant in the filtered light. To Keely none of it seemed real until they finally began to move against the descending current. It was nature turned topsy-turvy on itself.
With the banks so much closer now there was so much more to see and photograph : flowers growing on vines— yellow, red, pink and purple; palms with enormous fronds which danced violently in the air currents generated by the passing vessel, wild banana, and even a solitary jacaranda rising sentinel like from a sloping bank of greenery. Parasites abounded, some flowering and quite lovely, others ugly growths on the parent tree. One such had spheres like coconuts hanging down its trunk. Sir Mark called it couroupita—the cannon-ball tree.
The birds could be heard more easily than seen until the eyes became accustomed to plumbing the depths of the foliage, and then they too appeared in profusion : small green parrots flitting from branch to branch; river swallows skimming the surface of the water in a flash of colour; an egret among the reeds at the water's edge. Strange little swirls and eddies appeared from time to time close in to the banks, and once there was a brief glimpse of a scaly body sliding back into the murky depths after surfacing for a curious peep at the cause of disturbance. Round one bend
they came suddenly upon a native canoe holding two men with' spears and blowpipes. They viewed the Dorita and her passengers impassively, letting the canoe drift on the current as she passed and resuming their hunt among the arrow reeds only when well astern.
There were more insects too, the mosquitoes voracious in their attack on any portion of bared skin. Keely rubbed repellant on her face and neck and fastened up her shirt to its very top button, but it didn't seem to help all that much. Of all of them only Greg seemed to suffer no apparent discomfort as usual. Too thick a hide, she told herself sourly. It would take more than a few hundred thousand mosquitoes to get through to him !
`A cigarette would help,' he commented at one point when the humming hordes were threatening to drive her to distraction. 'The smoke creates a screen of sorts.' He took out a packet and shook one down for her, flicking a match into flame with a thumbnail and shielding it from the slight breeze of their passage until he had lit one for himself too. Leaning against the cabin superstructure, he directed his own smoke into hers. 'Better?'
`Much.' The relief, even if only temporary, was enough to melt her attitude a little. She glanced at him obliquely, seeing the strong lines of his face striped and stippled with shadows from the slanting light. There was strength of character as well as cast in there if one looked for it, according to Sir Mark. But then the latter didn't know the man she knew. Which of them was right?
`Relax,' he said on a familiar note of mockery. 'I'm not going to bite. Not right now, at any rate.'
`Why do you always find it necessary to be objectionable?' she demanded, low-toned. 'If you wanted to show me who was running this little show you did all of that the other night. If it's a whipping boy you want try looking in some
other direction for a while, will you, please? I'm about tired of this woman-hating kick !'
His expression didn't alter. 'Which direction would you advise me to look? You're the only woman around, in case you hadn't noticed. And who said I was a woman-hater?'
`You don't have to say it. It's written all over you.' She kept her voice steady despite her increased heartbeat. 'Men only usually get that way through being badly hurt by one.'
`You, of course, knowing so much about men.' There was a tautness about his mouth that had been lacking before. 'I told you before, don't try analysing me until you've got yourself straightened out.'
`Don't you mean until you've straightened me out?'
`Is that what you're waiting for?' His laugh was short. `You know, you should fit in well where we're going. The women of this tribe up there stay virgins for life if no man offers the right bride price for them.'
`Good for them.' Keely refused to show that the jeer had got to her in any way. 'Was the woman you saw wearing the Fire Flower looking for a husband too?'
`She wouldn't have been wearing the flower if she wasn't. They use it as a symbol from puberty onwards. Any man who removes it had better be prepared to pay her family the asking price or he's regarded as no better than a common rapist. One good reason why I couldn't bring back a sample.'
`You could have found the source and picked your own.'
`No time. I knew the Colbys were due to leave Manaus for the coast on the twenty-third. Mark's been fired by dreams of finding this thing for years, but Inman's directions were too vague to be of much use in locating the right tributary. He christened it the Canidas; it's shown on the map under a Portuguese name. I only stumbled on that entrance by accident myself.'
Keely said thoughtfully, 'Then you can't really be all that sure it is the same one, can you? I mean, this flower
could possibly grow in other areas too.'
`Possibly. But what Inman lacked in navigational detail he made up for in description. The rapids we have to negotiate further up have recognisable points. I was able to find one elder of the tribe who actually remembered seeing a white man once before as a youngster.'
`And none at all in between?'
`Those rapids form a good deterrent. The lower village we'll be staying the night in have known visitors before, but they've turned back when they've seen what lies ahead. Without enough incentive it apparently didn't seem worth the trouble and time of porting round them.'
`You must have thought so.'
He smiled. 'I was probably more genned up on Inman that any of the others were. Anyway, as Paul said, there's only a botanist would take that amount of trouble for the sake of one flower.'
`Or a botanist's friend, perhaps.' Keely was studying the end of her cigarette with fixed attention, aware of conflicting emotions. Could any man willing to take the risks Greg must have taken on that first trip up the Canidas for the sake of another's dream really be all bad? 'You must think as much of him as he seems to think of you,' she murmured, and felt him look at her.
`You've been discussing me with Mark?'
`Not in any depth. He suggested I might try treating you with a little more respect.' There was irony in her tone. 'I wonder how he'd regard the man who invaded my room the other night.'
`Why not try telling him and find out?' He sounded unperturbed by the threat. 'Of course, he might wonder why you left it so long before laying a complaint ... or why you still came on with us, come to that. He might even consider you deserve all you get for initiating the situation in the first place.'
`Including attempted rape !'
His smile was dry. 'If I'd come in there with the intention of raping you there'd have been nothing "attempted" about it! I knew you were a bit retarded for your age; I didn't realise just how much.'
'Retarded !' She had swung round on him, the cigarette crushed between finger and thumb in a surge of pure fury. `Why, you ...'
`I meant sexually.' He was amused but the grey eyes glinted in warning. 'You lash out at me again and you'll regret it! Nobody's doubting your intelligence ... or your nerve either, for that matter: Like I said before, once you've got rid of your hang-ups you'll be really something.'
`Do I have to be hung up because I happen to consider there should be more than just physical attraction between two people?' she came back with forcible control, and could have kicked- herself when the mobile left eyebrow rose.
`So you're prepared to admit you're attracted? It's a start.'
`I was speakin
g generally, not personally, though it's the only kind of emotion you seem to recognise. I'm not attracted by muscle-bound morons !'
It didn't need the quick tensing of his jaw to tell her she had gone a little too far that time, she had known it the moment the words were out of her mouth.
`You better go below,' he said levelly. 'Otherwise I'm going to start teaching you a few facts of life regardless of the audience.' The gaze he turned on her was hard and implacable. 'Going?'
Keely tossed the crushed cigarette butt over the side and went, dropping down into the cabin with a feeling of helplessness. Greg was a law unto himself out here, and he knew it. He also had her taped in recognising her reluctance to bring either of the Colbys into this affair. It gave him the whip hand. She refused to acknowledge the small voice at
the back of her mind which suggested that she might have handled things with a little, more finesse herself out there on the deck. What difference would it have made? Nothing could alter the fact that Greg Stirling was without scruples of any kind.
There was no sign of any Indian village when the Dorita finally pulled in to the bank. Only when she emerged again on to the deck did Keely see the narrow but well-worn trail curving through the jungle itself from a corner of the cleared space where they had tied up.
Quito and Manos were to stay on board the boat while it rested here. From tomorrow the four of them would be in the hands of their Indian guides, providing they could be persuaded to accompany the party up river. What would happen if they refused was open to speculation. Surely even Greg wouldn't contemplate pushing on without adequate help? The Dorita would be useless beyond this point, and it took man power to carry a canoe through the jungle to the next navigable stretch of river—as he had said was necessary. If it came to that, where were these supposed canoes? If the village was close to the river surely one might expect to see at least a few craft moored ready for use.
`Too much danger of their being carried away by flood waters at this time of the year, I expect,' Sir Mark conjectured when she mentioned it to him. 'Greg tells me we've a fifteen-minute trek inland for the same reason. We should just about make it before dark.' A moment later he tapped her elbow, adding quietly, 'We seem to have a reception committee. I only hope Greg isn't wrong about these people.'
