“Do you hear something?” she asked.
He listened.
“It sounds like tom-toms,” she said.
Far away there was a drumming sound. There were several hollow beats, a pause and then several more. It sounded as though a drum was being used for a message.
“It may be some kind of a bird,” he said.
“Do you think so?”
“I don’t know. Should we try to get to it?”
“Yes,” she said. “Oh, darling, wouldn’t it be nice if it were someone?”
“Don’t get too enthusiastic.”
“I won’t,” she said. “But, darling, wouldn’t it be wonderful?”
The drum was to the north, at least a mile away. They went into the forest. They had to break through thorn bushes. The thorns cut their skin. Then they went through tall grass. Once the drum was silent for a long time, and they were both frightened. They thought they had lost it. They waited and the drumming began again. Jay felt very excited. Eve took hold of his wrist, keeping him from going on. A whistle ahead of them was answered by a whistle much farther away.
“Little Orchid!” she said.
“It’s pygmies, all right.”
“Hurry,” she said. “Oh, hurry!”
They walked through the forest for a long time, trying to hurry, but held back by the vegetation. A limb with big thorns tore two buttons off Jay’s leather jacket. He cut through a curtain of creepers with a knife. Sweat stung the cuts on his hands and neck. Once Eve stumbled and fell against him. They crawled through a clump of squat plants with prickly leaves. Then they were in the grass again. Far ahead were the sounds of whistles.
“They’re going away,” Eve cried.
Jay shouted, “Hello!” The forest was silent. There was no sound of whistles. He shouted again, “Hello! We’re lost. Can you help us?”
They listened, but there was no reply. Jay fired three shots in the air with the Mauser. He shouted again. “Help! Help!” He felt silly shouting. There was no sound in the forest.
“The hell with them,” he said.
Eve sat in the grass. Her face was white. A line of blood from a thorn scratch ran along her cheek. The grass was as high as her shoulders.
“Watch out for snakes,” Jay said.
“I don’t care.”
“It’s too bad. But we did everything we could.”
“I know.” There were tears in her eyes.
“The pygmies might have been hostile anyway.”
“I’m not breaking down, darling,” she said.
“That’s all right. Cry. I’ll cry, too.” He sat beside her in the grass. “Damn them!”
“I won’t cry.” She was crying and smiling. “It’s just that I’m so tired and so hungry.”
“I know.”
“Hold me a minute.”
He held her. She was still crying. She was so thin. He could feel her shoulder blades and the bones in her arms. She smiled at him through her tears. Oh God! he prayed, please get us out of here. Or let us die soon.
CHAPTER 34
THAT NIGHT Jay used one of the two remaining matches for the fire and in the morning they ate what was left of the meat. They still had the tin of salmon, but Jay knew he would have to shoot something in a day or two. Soon he would be too weak to hunt. He slung the knapsack over his shoulder and put the Mauser in his pocket. He was very tired.
“Should we go?” he asked Eve.
“Yes.” She got up from the fire. “Though it does seem useless.”
“We must have our exercise.”
“I’ve had enough exercise, darling.”
They were camped beside a small trail that wandered through the forest in an easterly direction. The evening before they had seen okapi tracks on the trail. These worried Jay. He wondered about them now. The okapi mostly stayed in the remote parts of the Ituri. Could they be walking in the wrong direction? He did not think so. He started along the trail, thinking he had plenty of other things beside okapi tracks to worry about. Eve did not follow him. She stood by the fire.
“Come on, sweet.”
“I’m so tired of walking,” she said.
“Maybe we’ll reach the Indian Ocean today.”
“I don’t care.”
“Come on, sweet. Please.”
She came after him. He walked slowly so it would be easy for her. It was a nice day. A wind shook the tops of trees and sent cool air down into the forest. The sky was full of fluffy clouds. In the sunlight the moving leaves were a bright green. Jay decided to walk as far as possible during the day. Then he would have to learn how to carry fire. There was only the one match. He felt in his pocket to see if the box was there. It would be the end if the match wouldn’t light. It would light, though, and they would find a way to carry the fire. Maybe they could wrap coals in leaves, with small pieces of wood for the fire to feed on. That was the way the pygmies did, he thought. It was too bad he had never taken the Boy Scouts more seriously. They were supposed to be able to make fire without matches.
He began to feel better. There was something in moving that made him feel better. At least they were doing something. The trail wound, but it went mostly to the east. They were lucky to have found it. They walked for two hours and then they rested. He sat by Eve.
“The mornings are so discouraging,” she said.
“They are anywhere.”
“That’s why breakfast in bed is so nice.” She was smiling. “It helps take you over the discouraged period.”
“We have exactly the same ideas,” he said.
“We’ll be very happy together,” she said.
“We’re happy now.”
“Jay, do you think we will ever get out?”
“Sure.”
“Do you really think that?”
“Don’t you?”
“Oh, yes.”
They walked two hours and rested again. In the afternoon they walked in half darkness because clouds had covered the sky. They did not walk fast. The trail was hard to see in the forest gloom. Eve was very tired, but she would not stop. She became angry when he tried to make her stop. She wanted to go as far as possible. The clouds hiding the sun made it cooler, but Jay was sweating heavily. He could hear the blood in his ears and the beating of his heart. He wondered if he had a fever again. It was curious walking in this forest, he thought; there was no feeling of going anywhere. There was certainly none near the end of the day, when you were tired. You walked and walked and walked, your legs aching, your feet sore, faint from hunger, wanting to lie down, sweating, and all the time you were in a passage the trail made through the forest, with the same damp, heavy, green vegetation brushing your shoulders. He would never like the color green again. Even the clearings were alike. There was the reedy marsh grass and the bushlike trees and the wild flowers and the butterflies and, beyond, the green wall and the circle of great trees. He did not hear Eve. He looked around and saw her coming far back and halted. She was having a hard time. Her face was white with exhaustion.
“Let’s stop,” he said.
“Not yet. I can still go on.”
“You don’t want to kill yourself.”
“Don’t I?”
“Let’s go half an hour.”
“All right, darling.”
They walked until they came to a small river. The path went down to the black, heavy-looking water, cut by reeds and marsh grass. On the other bank they could see where the path went on into the forest. There was mud on the river bottom and while they were wondering if they should cross a pygmy came out of the forest opposite them. He saw them across the river and called to someone behind him. More pygmies appeared. Then a large native in shorts and a brown sweater came out of the forest.
“My God!” Jay exclaimed. “It’s Mulu!” He shouted across the river. “Mulu!”
Mulu called something to them. They could not hear him. He waved for them to cross the river. Jay turned to Eve. She was crossing herself and her lips were moving. “Thank you, Father
,” he heard her say. She said something else, but he could not hear it. He was suddenly frightened; she looked so different. He did not feel that she belonged to him any more. She was like a stranger. He waited until she had finished and then he started across the river, walking flat-footed so as not to sink in the mud. Eve ran after him and touched his arm.
“What’s the matter, darling?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Is being found going to make a difference?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
“I do love you, Jay.”
“I love you, Eve.”
“We’ll stick together, won’t we?”
“Yes, darling.”
He took her hand and they went into the water. The river got no deeper than their knees. He felt better, but he was still frightened. He did not know why. He did not even know what had happened. It must have been her praying. Mulu helped them up the other bank. Then he danced in front of them, grinning and talking in Swahili. They did not understand him. The pygmies, too, danced and talked, no longer shy in their excitement, crowding close, and then Mulu heard something in the forest and shouted, “Buwana! Come!” and Mr. Palmer’s red face was smiling at them and he was shaking Jay’s hand and saying, “By God! How glad I am to see you! By God!” Then his eyes went to Eve. “I say!” he said. “You must have had a bad time.”
“Not too bad.”
“You look as though you hadn’t eaten much.”
“We’ve a tin of salmon left,” Jay said.
“But we could do with a bit of food,” Eve said.
“We’ll fix that. At once.” Mr. Palmer spoke to Mulu. Then he said, “We have wine and some bread and cold meat.
“It sounds simply wonderful.”
Mulu took meat and bread from a box. The pygmies were standing by the white people, listening to them talk. “I’ve news for you,” Mr. Palmer told Eve.
“What?”
“Your husband’s at Lubero. Came out of the forest last week.”
“Oh.”
“He’s quite fit,” Mr. Palmer said. “Lived with a pygmy tribe. Dreadfully upset over you, though.”
“I’m so glad he’s safe,” Eve said.
Mr. Palmer stared at her. He did not understand her expression. Mulu brought them paper cups of white wine. It was cold and very sour.
“Oh, by God!” Mr. Palmer said suddenly. “Where’s old Bill?”
“He’s dead,” Jay said.
“No! Not really!”
“Yes. Absolutely,” Jay said. “Dead and buried.”
CHAPTER 35
THE WINE AND THE FOOD made them feel stronger. Mulu gave salt to the pygmies. Then they walked two miles to the road where Mr. Palmer had left a touring car loaned him by a Belgian official. It was almost dark when they reached the car. Eve got in front with Mr. Palmer and Jay sat in back with Mulu. It was forty miles to Lubero. They did not go fast. The road was good, but there were many hills. The road climbed steadily. Eve was very silent. Jay felt lonely away from her. He listened to the wind pass and felt the cold air on his face. He tried to memorize the shape of Eve’s head against the headlights. They were all silent when they should have been gay. Jay thought nobody seeing them would ever suspect they had just been rescued from the forest. They were like a party on the way to a funeral, or to someone’s deathbed, or to jail.
While driving Mr. Palmer told them all the news. Lew Cable’s wound had become infected and he had been taken to the hospital at Nairobi. He had been furious when he heard they were lost. Believed they’d done it on purpose. By God! he was angry! Mr. Palmer said. The professor was in Nairobi, too. They were both all right, though. The professor had been very sick, though. All kinds of complications. Herbert had been sentenced to sixty days in jail by the Belgians. He would have gotten two years, Mr. Palmer said, if Salles had not interceded. The Belgians took a very serious view of the shooting. The gorillas had reached the coast in good condition. They were going to Rome and then to New York on the Rex. The museum had been dreadfully upset. All kinds of search parties out. Salles had been in charge of one. And that was about all. It had been a nasty business. The Belgians had not been too helpful until Salles arrived on the scene. He blew them up. But the real help had been the pygmies. They had reported hearing shots. That was how he’d happened to be in the district. Lucky, wasn’t it? Oh, yes, there was one more thing. Bill’s father would arrive in Stanleyville day after tomorrow. He happened to have been in London when the news reached him. “Flying out, poor fellow,” Mr. Palmer said.
“I’ll have to meet him,” Jay said.
“Someone should,” said Mr. Palmer.
It was raining when they reached Lubero. There was no one in the streets. It was very late. It was after ten o’clock. Their headlights caught the red of the brick houses and then they saw the hotel. They went up the front stairs to the wooden veranda and into the parlor and woke the Belgian night porter. He blinked at them sleepily. He did not know who they were. He did not know if there were rooms.
“Get Madame,” Mr. Palmer said. “She will know.”
“Madame is asleep,” the porter said.
“Then wake her,” Mr. Palmer said.
“It is very late,” the porter said.
“Wake her at once,” Mr. Palmer said.
“She will be angry.” The porter shook his head. “She will be yery angry,” he said. “But I will wake her.”
He went out of the parlor and Mr. Palmer said, “Stupid ass!” Then he spoke to Eve. “Your husband has a wing on the top floor.”
“He always has a wing,” Eve said.
Madame Chambord came downstairs in a pink wrapper. She looked huge and shapeless in the wrapper. There were curling pins in her hair. “What is this?” she began. Then she saw Eve and her face changed. “Madame Salles!” She said something angrily in Flemish to the porter. The porter went away. Madame turned back to Eve. “Ah, madame, you are safe!” she cried. “And your husband——”
“I know,” Eve said.
“How joyful he will be!” Madame Chambord glanced at Jay. “And you! Safe, too! But where is your friend?”
“He’s dead.”
“That is not possible!”
“Yes, he is dead.”
“I would like to go upstairs,” Eve said.
“What a pity! A man so young!” Madame said to Jay. “How did he die?”
“A leopard ate him.”
“Mon Dieu!”
“I would like to go upstairs at once,” Eve said.
“Ah, certainly. How stupid! Your husband is waiting.” Madame took Eve’s arm. “But you are thin! You suffered in the forest!”
“We wish to go upstairs,” Jay said.
“At once,” said Mr. Palmer.
“I go!” Madame led Eve up the stairs. Jay and Mr. Palmer followed. “You will want food,” Madame said to Eve.
“We both will. And Mr. Nichols would like a room.”
They came to a corridor with a tan carpet. There was a light in a red globe at the end of the corridor. Madame Chambord beckoned to Jay and opened a door. “This room is Monsieur’s,” she said.
Jay looked at Eve. Her face had no expression. She looked pale and tired in the red light. She touched his hand. Her skin was cold.
“Good night,” he said.
“Good night, Jay.”
“Will I see you tomorrow?”
“Yes.” Her hand tightened on his. “Don’t worry.”
She went on with Madame Chambord. Jay went into the room. Mr. Palmer followed him. Jay turned on the light. “Like something to drink?” Mr. Palmer asked.
“Some whisky.”
There was knocking on a door at the end of the hall. There was the sound of a man’s voice. The door opened and Madame Chambord started to say something. The man’s voice rose to a shout, “Eve!” Then several people were talking at once. Then there was a moment of silence and then the door was closed. Then there was the sound of Madame Chambord’s
footsteps in the corridor.
“Should I buy a bottle?” Mr. Palmer asked.
“Yes. A bottle.”
Mr. Palmer left and Jay went and closed the door and sat on the bed. He felt tired. The room looked almost like the one he and Bill had. There was a double bed. There was a wooden rocking chair and a dresser and a mahogany stand with towels and a washbasin and a pitcher. From the headpiece of the double bed hung a linen square with a poem stitched on it in red and black thread. He could not read the poem. He thought it was in Flemish. Mr. Palmer came with a pair of blue pajamas and the whisky and a bowl of ice. He put the pajamas on the bed and got two glasses from the mahogany stand and made two drinks.
“Cheerio!” he said.
The whisky had very little taste, but the liquid felt cool in Jay’s throat. He could hear people walking in the hall. He finished the glass, but the alcohol did not lift him. Mr. Palmer drank more slowly. He discussed what they all should do tomorrow. He said the expedition was cooked, absolutely cooked. Best to get back to Nairobi as soon as possible. At least they had the gorillas. Of course, someone had to collect things at the base camp in the Ituri. He’d do that. Leave first thing in the morning. But the expedition was cooked. Absolutely. Could Jay go to Stanleyville to meet Bill’s father? If he liked, Mr. Palmer said, he would engage a space in the touring car that carried the mail. It left the hotel at seven in the evening.
“Fine,” Jay said.
Mr. Palmer sipped his whisky. “Had quite a time with Cable,” he said. “Especially getting him out of the forest.”
“Did you?”
“Believe the man went insane. Really. All he thought of was going back to camp.”
“He didn’t throw himself on the ground again?”
“No. Too sick for that. But he cursed every inch of the way. Kept ordering me to turn around. Finally gave him some morphine to keep him quiet.”
Mr. Palmer poured whisky into his glass.
“Worst came, though,” he said, “when he heard you were lost.”
“What did he do?”
“Broke out of the hospital and started for the Ituri. Don’t know if he was out of his head or not. Certainly appeared to be. Took the doctor and two native assistants to get him back to bed. A bloody mess. Got his wound infected, too.”
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