Acacia - Secrets of an African Painting
Page 32
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE - CHANGE OF PLAN
As we got closer to the water, I could see that this valley was actually no such thing. It was more of a wide depression in the otherwise flat expanse of veld all around it. We decided to drive along the river’s edge as close as we could get, in the direction of the acacia trees Tara had spotted earlier, and just see if there was anything familiar there, we could tie in to either the painting or the other clues in Frederick’s diary.
As the morning wore on and the sun climbed steadily in the sky, the heat started to build. It was soon too hot to have the windows open and I mentally thanked the hire company for pushing us into paying a little extra for the air-conditioned model. Closing the windows though had the effect of cutting us off from the landscape and we both rolled them down again after a short time, letting the warm dusty air back into the car.
It was obvious as we grew close to the trees that these were not the ones we were after. They grew in a slight hollow, where the underlying water had perhaps allowed the earth to settle a bit. The effect of that, though, was that we could not see the mountains and the trees at the same time no matter where we stood.
Disappointed, but undaunted, we continued along the river’s course, slowly but surely checking out each new tree we came across. After some time, we noticed that the landscape became a little rockier, and large boulders were visible here and there. In the distance on the far side of the river, we could also see the occasional kopje, standing proud on the flat veld, sprouting crooked trees from every available crevice. They were like ancient sentinels overlooking acres of brown and yellow flattened landscape.
Noon came and went and still we slowly motored along. Midway through the afternoon I realised that we had not yet eaten, so I called a temporary halt to proceedings. We sat by the water’s edge, dangling our feet in the slow moving flow, fairly sure that the moving water would ensure there was no chance of getting the nasty bilharzia bug, which could burrow into your skin, causing all sorts of nasty ailments.
‘How are you feeling?’ I asked.
She looked at me, her deep dark eyes fully focused on mine, the amber flashes shining brightly in the dappled sunlight. ‘I’m okay.’ She said softly. ‘I’m happy now.’
It was a strange way to answer, but I found myself unable to take the conversation any further. Instead, I picked up the map and made a show of studying it intently, much as Tara had done in the car before. ‘Good,’ I said, ‘I’m glad.’ I looked into her eyes again and smiled and she simply rested her head on my shoulder.
We just sat there like that for another ten minutes watching the water drift gently by, but time was getting on and I was aware that we had a lot of ground to cover. ‘Come on sleepy head, let’s get cracking again.’
The day wore on in the same way as it had so far, just driving and checking and looking and comparing. As the sun started to get low in the west, we decided it was time to find a good camp for the night, and also this time, pitch the tent to keep out the snakes and other creepy crawlies that might take a fancy to our sleeping bags. We found a flat piece of land close to the river and sheltered by an outcrop of boulders, which in turn, were surrounded by trees.
Once the tent was up, we carried the gas stove a little further downstream where a flat rock made the perfect kitchen bench. The menu hadn’t varied much from the previous night, but after a long day that had yielded nothing of any interest, we were hungry enough to enjoy anything at all. We popped open a couple of chocolate bars for dessert and sat happily munching away watching the African night fall all around us, quickly and silently replacing the bright, heat filled day.
I was thinking about the clues we had to the whereabouts of Frederick’s stash again and ran them over and over in my mind, trying to see if there was something we had missed, something that may get us closer. The way we were going at the moment, we could be out here driving around for weeks and not find a thing. I wondered if that was what happened to Tara’s parents when they came here and returned again empty handed. Perhaps that was why they returned to Leopard’s Leap feeling morose and depressed. I think I would have been the same if I came all this way and found nothing, but spent weeks doing it. The build up of emotions and expectations had been great even in me, and I had tried to keep things calm and in perspective, never really believing the treasure would be found and not counting any chickens.
Tara, on the other hand, had perhaps believed fervently in Frederick’s story and her emotions had been through the proverbial mill as a result. I worried about what would happen if, after many days or weeks of searching, we came up with nothing. How would she take it? Would she be able to let it go or would she become one of those poor old prospectors, doomed to search forever? I hated to think of her ending up like that; I had to try and wean her off the idea as gently as possible while there was still time.
But for now, I was still willing to search for a few days. It was actually very pleasant here, the weather was warm, but being close to the water meant there was a cooling effect. I didn’t have any objections to spending a few days out of touch with the modern world, just drifting and enjoying nature. Who knew, it might even be cleansing for me, make me a better person or something.
I thought of the diary again and grabbed it to take another look. There was something nagging at me that we had read in there, but had maybe not taken into consideration as yet. I went through it again and then it struck me. Frederick said that they ran from the cave in the direction of the great cross in the sky. That could only be the Southern Cross, the great constellation that so many people in the southern hemisphere identify with.
I nudged Tara and told her my findings. ‘Look, we missed something here. We need to find the Southern Cross and then figure out which direction they were running in.’
‘Yes, but first we need to know where they were running from, otherwise it means nothing.’ She replied with obvious common sense, highlighting the one flaw in my theory that I couldn’t answer at the moment.
I thought again for a while. ‘But most of the kopjes seem to be on the far side of the river, don’t they? So, why don’t we make an assumption that that was the direction they came from?’ I was grasping at straws, but you never know, it might work and we had nothing else to go on.
Tara suddenly looked interested, as if there might be a grain of something in this plan after all. She looked up at the clear blackness of the night sky, searching out the pattern of four main stars that make up the cross. She pointed, ‘There it is, straight up there.’
I looked and could see the formation close to the bright path of the Milky Way. Once found, it was easy to see why it had become such a beacon for people, even appearing on several flags, New Zealand’s and Australia’s to name but two. It was as obvious as the Plough was in the northern hemisphere and we both just stared at it for a while, marvelling at the beauty of the sky as a whole, here where the lack of light and pollution made everything clear and bright.
‘So, they ran roughly south then, maybe a bit off south, depending on what time of night it was I guess.’ Astronomy was not my strong point and I could never really figure out how to get directions from the stars.
‘So all we need to do is find the kopje and then track roughly south from it and we should be in the right vicinity.’ The way she said it, it all sounded very easy, but despite it being my theory, all of a sudden it seemed a lot harder. However, it was better than just driving aimlessly as we were now, so I figured we should at least give it a go.
‘Right then, we’ll need to find a place to cross the river tomorrow and start checking out the kopjes over on the other side.’ Another plan easier said than done, as although the river was not particularly deep or wide here, even the 4x4 would have difficulties crossing anywhere we had been so far.
‘There must be a crossing place somewhere,’ Tara insisted, ‘how would the first wagons have got over otherwise? We just have to be patient and find one, that’s all.’
With this simple,
but impossible plan settled, we turned in for the night, so tired that we both fell into a deep sleep within minutes.