The river lord

by Kay Thorpe

  `I was thinking just now that you may be right about these people,' she said. 'They have everything they need ... including contentment.'

  `Until someone sees fit to point out their deficiencies. Sooner or later the do-gooders are going to reach this far, and then it starts. They'll be taught to feel ashamed of nakedness instead of regarding it the way they do now, as

  something natural, encouraged to forsake their own customs and adopt European standards of behaviour, given a monetary system they don't even need. And for what?' He was hard and intolerant. 'Because society feels sorry for the savages! It's that kind of pity that's already killed off whole tribes further down river.'

  `Oh, but surely some of them have become integrated,' Keely protested, thinking of the many citizens of obvious Indian origins she had seen in Manaus.

  `It's the same thing in the end. As a tribe they're finished. Ganda rules this village the way it's been ruled for generations, but how long do you think the missionaries would smile on his headman's allowance of up to four wives? The same goes for their method of attempting to cut infant mortality. If a woman bears more than a couple of stillborn children to her husband he encourages her to find one of the young, unmarried men willing to father a child for them. He doesn't regard that child as any less his. All that matters is perpetuating the tribe; keeping up the numbers from generation to generation because they know if they decrease beyond a certain point they'll die out. On the other hand, the jungle can only support a limited number in any given area too, so any outside interference with the balance creates the same effect.'

  `You mean like keeping people alive with modern medicine instead of just letting them die?'

  `That's one way.'

  `Isn't it rather a callous outlook, taken to that extreme?'

  `Depends on how you look at it. Nature deals with overpopulation by killing off the surplus, either naturally or with some kind of disaster. Cut mortality all the way down the line and you have to create an inbalance somewhere. If you have four people slowly starving to death on a food supply barely adequate for three and one of those four falls sick, do you make an effort to save him so that he can con-

  tinue to starve, or let him die so that the other three might live?'

  Keely shook her head. 'It's too easy to rationalise that way. What about compassion?'

  `A fine sentiment where it doesn't override reason.' `And with you it never would, of course.'

  `It might ' He studied her a moment, mouth faintly curved at the corners. 'Ever wish you were safely back in Manaus?'

  Keely couldn't bring herself to meet the grey eyes, fearful of what he might read in her own. His closeness disturbed her, there was no getting away from that. The touch of his hands back there, the hard strength of the muscular body, the sheer male impact of him—she was stirred by all these things, and in a way dangerous to her own sense of balance. She was seized by a sudden longing to feel his lips on hers again the way they had been the other night. It seemed a lifetime ago, yet it couldn't be more than forty-eight hours. In two days they had stepped outside the barriers imposed by society into a world where nature was the only true ruler; where the emotions sharpened along with the senses, the effect gradual but no less insidious.

  `No,' she said with an emphasis that was as much for her own benefit as his. 'There's nothing here can make me regret coming.'

  Not even this?' he asked softly, and drew her to him, his hands tugging free the bottom of her shirt to Slide warm over her back as he found her mouth. She felt the powerful beat of his heart at her breast; the vibrant pulsing of vital life. There was no fighting the need sweeping through her, nor even any real desire left to fight it. There was only the moment, suspended in time as the jungle about them. Outside of it—nothing.

  It was Greg himself who snapped the suspension by putting her away from him. There was a look on his face hard

  to decipher in the shadows, a glitter about his eyes. When he spoke it was with cruel calculation.

  `It gets to you, doesn't it? Purity to passion in three easy lessons ! You've still got some way to go, green eyes, but you're coming along.'

  `You swine.' Her voice was low and quivering, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. 'You despicable, low-down swine !'

  `That's right.' He was unmoved. 'So remember it next time you feel like taking a moonlit stroll. This isn't a film set; it's for real. So am I. Think you'll be able to sleep now?'

  There was nothing left to say. Keely went in front of him back to the moloca and found her way across to her hammock. If anyone had noted their disappearance they kept their own counsel. Mark was sleeping the sleep of the just beneath the filmy gauze of the net. She would have liked to refuse Greg's move to rearrange hers, but knew it would be a waste of time. She lay with averted face until he was safely in his own hammock above, feeling the hurt curling deep down inside her.

  What kind of a fool was she, she asked herself numbly, to let herself be taken in even for a moment by a man like that? There was no better side to him. He didn't possess one decent instinct. So why let him bother her?

  The answer was both obvious and soul-destroying.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THERE was further palavering before they could leave the village next morning, the men retiring once more to the open-sided building close to the river trail to discuss the proposed venture with much gesticulating and apparent haggling over terms.

  Left to her own devices, Keely spent the time photographing the women preparing both coconut and mandioca root flour. After the squeezing out of the poisonous prussic acid from the latter, both were coarsely grated over woven mats laid flat on the ground using the roughened husks of calabash shells, then pounded with sticks until fine' enough to be sifted through the mesh of a woven basket. It was a long and arduous task, but the women seemed to enjoy it, chatting happily among themselves as they worked without regard to the steadily Rising heat.

  The smaller children played in the sunshine, scrabbling in the bare earth of the compound with sticks and other home-made implements of play, several of them intent on a mud patch created by pouring water from a calabash shell on to heaped earth. Older ones had jobs of their own to do, although a couple of boys about eight years of age had taken time off to stalk imaginary prey in the shadows of the moloca, stealthily creeping up on the 'game' only they could see until their respective mothers spotted them and drove them back to their allotted jobs with severe scoldings.

  Keely was still smiling over the scene when Greg came over to where she stood. She hadn't seen him approaching, and felt the smile wiped swiftly from her face on meeting his enigmatic gaze.

  `All settled,' he announced. 'We're taking three canoes with three men in each, plus our own party. Jason and Mark will go separately, and I'll take you in with me. That way we make sure nobody suddenly decides to turn back.'

  Keely averted her eyes from his, sticking her hands into the pockets of her jeans in a gesture consciously defiant. `I'd rather go in with Mark or Jason, if you don't mind '

  `I'm sure you would,' he said with irony. But you're still coming with me. The others will have enough to contend with. Get your things together. We're leaving right away.'

  `You told Jason we'd be at the boat first thing,' she said without moving. 'I suppose you didn't reckon on these people wanting more than you were inclined to offer for their services. I only hope they struck a hard bargain.' -

  `They did. Avarice doesn't take long to rub off.' He paused just long enough to add emphasis to his next words. `I said to get your things.'

  Keely went without another word and fetched her canvas bag from the moloca. When she got outside again, Mark was with Greg, along with nine of the tribesmen, all carrying blowpipes and a quiver of darts. One or two of them also had bows and arrows, the latter made from thin bamboo and uncommonly long, their flight feathers formed from palm leaves shaped and bound with palm fibre to the shaft. There was little talking among themselves, and no sign of a smile
anywhere. This was obviously a serious business and was to be treated as such. Keely wondered if they were volunteers or had been allocated the job by the headman. The last seemed more likely.- It would account for the glum expressions. Not that she could blame them. They were leaving their families and homes to go off up river to places unknown even to themselves. Greg had said they normally travelled no more than a few miles in either direction on hunting expeditions.

  The whole village saw them off, some accompanying the

  party a fair distance into the forest before turning back to resume their daily routine. Jason was on deck when they eventually reached the river, face a little anxious until he ascertained that they were all safe and well.

  `I wasn't sure whether or not to come and look for you when you didn't get here first thing,' he said as he stepped ashore to join them. 'We've had everything ready since first light. Three packs, you said, Greg?'

  `That's right. One for each canoe, then if we do happen to lose one we still have the others to fall back on.' Greg glanced briefly Keely's way. 'If there's anything you need you'd better get it now while they launch the canoes. There won't be another chance.'

  Keely shrugged and grimaced. 'I'd like a wash, but I suppose there won't be time.'

  `You'll have to make do with a lick and a promise,' he returned shortly. 'We all slept in the same state last night.'

  `No doubt if you'd been alone you'd have joined in local custom,' she retorted caustically, and saw his lips twitch in to a mocking smile.

  `No doubt. There are other local customs you wouldn't appreciate either.'

  Mark said swiftly, 'I could have used a shave myself, come to that. Is a few minutes going to make all that difference, Greg?'

  `Yes, it is. "We're already later than I intended. I want to get round the first stretch of rapids before the light goes.' The tone was adamant. 'Just collect your personal gear and let's get off.'

  Jason followed Keely down to the cabin, his face openly expressing his disgust. 'Give some folk a bit of power and they don't know where to stop,' he said, watching her spread out what few items she had brought with her. 'You look tired, Keely. Was it so bad in there?'

  `Not as much as you might think.' She was not about to

  tell him the true reason for her lack of sleep. 'Strange, of course, and very unconventional by our standards, but they made us welcome.' She looked round at him. 'What kind of a night did you have?'

  `I'd have had a better one if I hadn't been worrying about you.' He paused before tagging on, 'I wish you'd stayed on board yourself.'

  She smiled a little. 'Just the two of us in one cabin?'

  He flushed. 'I didn't mean it like that. Of course I wouldn't have expected to share the cabin with you. I simply meant you'd have been more comfortable, that's all.'

  `I know.' She was faintly ashamed of teasing him. 'Sorry, Jason. I'd have felt perfectly safe here with you. If I'd thought of it earlier I might even have done it too. Staying in a native village might sound adventurous, and I can write up the experience first hand, but I don't think I'd be too eager to repeat it. I feel scruffy!'

  `You don't look it.' He was patently sincere. 'You don't need make-up to look good, Keely. You're pretty enough without it.'

  `Thanks.' She made a production of fastening the straps on the canvas bag, now repacked, conscious of his regard on her bent head. Jason was nice in a way Greg didn't even know how to be, yet it meant nothing to her. The memory of what had happened last night brought an involuntary little quiver. That had meant something to her— more than she cared to think about. She hated Greg for what he had done, yet she couldn't deny her awareness of him. If only there were some way of breaking through that iron-clad veneer he wore so closely—providing it was only a veneer. Perhaps the iron went all the way through by now.

  A shout from above brought her sharply and somewhat thankfully upright. 'Sounds like we're ready to move out,' she said.

  `Yes.' Jason took the bag from her hands. 'I'll take this

  up for you. Sure you've got everything?'

  `I don't imagine I’ll need much where we're going,' she said wryly. 'It's going to be another week at least before we see civilised sleeping quarters again. A change of clothes and a comb seem the only essentials.'

  The Indians had the canoes they had carried from the village launched and loaded when they reached the deck, held in to the bank by fibre ropes about the closest tree trunks. Further out beyond the smooth patch created by the out-curving banks, the main current slid swiftly and ominously by, deep and dark beneath the glancing rays of the sun. And they were to combat that flow with mere paddles, Keely reflected on a sudden shiver of apprehension. (t didn't seem possible for mere human, effort to make any headway against such power.

  Surprisingly they not only made headway but seemed almost to shoot up river once they got started, the three Indians in each canoe striking out with a rhythm acquired through years of practice. Greg's craft was bringing up the rear, with Mark's in front and Jason in the middle. Keely sat just in front of him in the stern, hardly daring to move for fear of upsetting the vessel's equilibrium, her eyes never leaving the rushing water mere inches below the gunwales. The canoes themselves were each about twenty feet in length and hollowed out from a single tree trunk, wide enough to allow one to lie down in the bottom, though with little elbow room in doing so. Blankets and kitbags formed fairly adequate back-rests, although the legs soon became cramped from inaction in the confined space. Keely wondered how on earth the Indian crew managed to kneel so unfeelingly on the hard wood to paddle the craft. Even after one hour her own muscles ached.

  Greg made no attempt to carry on a conversation of any kind. He sat there behind her stoically, whistling snatches of some tune she didn't recognise between his teeth from

  time to time. The mosquitoes didn't seem to be biting as badly today—or maybe it was just that she was becoming used to them. After a while, Keely found herself starting to relax, to forget the closeness of the water in the interest to be found in it. Fish were many and varied, ranging in size from huge golden carp similar to the one Jason had caught that first day out to an eel-like creature with long, slender-toothed jaws which scattered everything before it. On several occasions she spotted the scaly backs of caymans gliding through the water, scales-reflecting the blue-green colour in near perfect camouflage. The banks were wider now, bushes and young trees forming a border to the forest itself which had receded. A sudden swirl of water close in the left bank resolved itself into a grotesque head rising vertically from the depths to view the passing craft with small, pig-like eyes. Greg gave an audible chuckle at Keely's involuntary exclamation as she brought her camera into play.

  `Manatee,' he said. 'Sailors know it as the sea-cow. Believe it or not, there lies your original mermaid.'

  Keely glanced over her shoulder to see the smile on his face. 'You're joking !'

  `I'm not, you know. The female suckles its young human fashion sitting upright in the water. After months, or even years at sea, old-time sailors must have been more than ready to imagine the rest.' He touched her shoulder suddenly, pointing over to the opposite bank where an animal which seemed to be a mixture of small rhinoceros and horse wallowed in the muddy shallows. 'Tapir. Must have known you were coming. They're not often seen.'

  `That manatee thing is following us,' Keely said nervously not long after, looking back along the surface. It's right behind the canoe.'

  `Maybe it thinks it's found a mate,' he returned equably. `They've been known to follow boats for days. Fancy

  sharing your lunch with a lovelorn monster?'

  `Better,' she shot back, 'than sharing it with an unfeeling one!'

  `Careful.' He sounded tolerant. 'I've never made love to a woman in a canoe, but there's always a first time. Want to try rocking the boat a bit more?'

  `Go to hell,' she said thickly, and heard him laugh.

  Not yet, green eyes. There's too much to live for.'

  Th
e first rapids could be heard some time before they were reached, a muted thunder in the distance towards late afternoon. The howler monkeys which had chorused at intervals throughout the day were silent now as if reluctant to compete. Boulders began to appear here and there in the river, tumbled volcanic rock carried down after breaking away from the parent body. The forest thinned to either hand and gave way to steadily rising banks laced with green against the black. The water itself roughened, swirling about the boulders in a welter of foam before rushing onwards, tearing at yet miraculously leaving intact the colourful rock plants festooning almost every available surface.

  Keely was thankful when Greg ordered the men in to the bank where a convenient landing place offered itself. The rapids proper were still out of sight around a bend a hundred yards or so up river, but the sound came down to them clearly. Before lifting the canoes out of the water they were unloaded of all equipment to lighten them.

  `How long will it take us to reach the head?" asked Mark, testing the weight of-one of the packs.

  `No more than an hour if we meet no snags,' Greg answered. 'We can follow the bank most of the way up, so there's no time wasted cutting a trail through the trees.' He spoke to the Indians who already had all three canoes on dry land, then looked in Keely's direction. 'Think you can manage the smaller stuff if we each take a pack?'

  She nodded without speaking, glad of something to do,

  and watched the Indians hoist the canoes up to their shoulders with practised ease. Once up the first stretch of bank there was little incline to combat. The forest stood back beyond the fringe of moss-covered rock, leaving only a few stunted bushes to cling in the crevices and dangle over the fast-moving river some twenty feet below.

  Remembering what Greg had said to Paul about the return journey being so much faster, Keely had to assume they would be shooting these self-same rapids on the way down again. It was a daunting thought considering the huge black water-torn boulders, some visible above the surface only as a jagged edge with spray breaking over them constantly. Yet he had done it before and come through. She wished suddenly and passionately that they could turn round right now and head for Manaus again. She had had enough of this adventure, job or no job. Ben couldn't possibly have realised what she would have to go through to secure this story—if there really was any story. At this moment no flower, no matter how unique, could be worth it all!