Serpents in the Sun

by Cave, Hugh

  At Roddy's side, Heather McKenzie pointed out that the field they were crossing was in potatoes. He frowned. "I thought potatoes were tricky to grow. Don't you need special seed and sprays and stuff?"

  "The farmers here are able to get those-things. What's more important is that they already have the right soil and climate."

  "You sound as though you'd like to be a potato farmer."

  "Well . . . except for your Blue Mountains, this Christiana area is probably the best part of the island to live in. It's cool, beautiful, not crowded like Kingston. . ."

  "I'll keep that in mind," Roddy said. Because, Heather McKenzie, You're going to marry me someday, and when you do, we won't be living at Glencoe.

  They had reached the end of the potato field and were in what might have been a similar field once but was now waist-deep in weeds and grass. Through this the cavers trudged for another five minutes. Then their eleven-year old guide turned to confront them. At his back, rising out of a jungle of wait-a-bit, loomed a clump of gnarled trees of a kind Roddy did not recognize.

  Young Eddie Jarrett put his hands on his hips. "When me did go in here after the bird, the macca cut me up real bad. But me daddy did take a cutlass to it after him get you letter."

  Professor Dalby gravely nodded. "We're grateful to him, believe me. Be sure you tell him so."

  "Well, you can come on, then."

  Cave entrances, Roddy had learned, were of all shapes and sizes. Too, they came in all degrees of accessibility. This was one of the less obvious ones, which, together with its barrier of wait-a-bit, probably explained why it had not been discovered before. He and the others waited while Professor Dalby extracted two pound notes from a billfold and, handing them to the boy, said, "One of these is for you, Eddie, and one for your father. It would be better if you went home now."

  "Me can't go down in there with you?"

  "I think not. Caves can be dangerous unless you've had experience with them."

  "Me have experience," the boy protested. "The day me find this, me did go in a little way."

  "But we intend to go in all the way."

  "Oh." His face heavy with a pout, Eddie stepped aside. Motioning the others to make themselves ready, Dalby lit his carbide lamp and donned his hard hat, then lowered himself to a sitting position at the edge of what looked like a dark hole between two boulders. The hole was the beginning of a downward-sloping chute. As he eased himself onto it, the others followed, Roddy bringing up the rear with Heather McKenzie just ahead of him.

  The descent into deeper darkness was steep, some of it navigable only on the seat of the pants with hands outthrust for braking. But some thirty feet in it widened and leveled, becoming a boulder-filled tunnel with a higher ceiling. After forty feet of that, the cavers reached a roughly circular chamber some thirty feet in diameter where their lights disturbed dozens of dark objects clinging to walls and roof.

  "Bats," someone said as the creatures detached themselves like blobs of falling black oil and went whirring deeper into the cave to escape the lights.

  First into the chamber, Professor Dalby had waited for the others to join him. Now he slowly pivoted to let his lamp search out its secrets. "Over there, gang. That duck. Maybe it leads to something."

  A duck. Not quite a crawl, but a place where one had to stoop. If it led only to a blank wall, you turned back and sorrowfully wrote off the day's exploration as a disappointment, listing the new-found cave as merely another sinkhole. But no, this one did not end in a blank wall. Fifteen feet in from the circular chamber it became a high-ceilinged passage some four feet wide that wriggled on, unobstructed, for a good hundred feet. There it opened into a second room.

  No opening in the wall here. Only a large one, some fifteen feet across, in the chamber's stone floor. Standing around its rim they shone their lights down into it. "Deep," Dalby said. "We'll have to link our ladders together."

  Subdued voices agreed with him.

  "But there's an opening down there—see it? —so this might be an important new cave, after all. Whose turn is it on the ladder?”

  "Mine," Heather McKenzie said promptly.

  "Yours? Now wait, Heather. This is—"

  "Oh no you don't. We agreed on the order weeks ago. Charley went first last time, and now it's my turn!"

  "Well . . ." Obviously, Professor Dalby did not think women could perform as well asmen, but there was not much he could do about it. Turning from the hole, he sought a place to attach the three ladders now being fastened together to make one long one. "That outcrop over there looks as good as any."

  The assembly finished and inspected, two men carried one end of the new three-in-one ladder to the wall and made it fast to the designated projection—which looked, Roddy thought, rather like a moose head with stubby antlers on the wall of some hunter's trophy room. To make sure the job had been done right, Roddy walked over to examine it.

  Dalby had waited for his nod of approval. Now the professor lowered the ladder into the pit until it touched bottom. When it did that, he faced the wall to which its top end was fastened and gave the ropes a hard jerk to test them. "All right, Heather. But be careful now. The rest of you shine your lights down there so she can see what she's doing."

  Heather looked at Roddy and grinned. There was a streak of tomboy in her, Roddy well knew; she delighted in putting down the males of this group when she could. Seating herself at the pit's edge, she turned and gripped the ladder, got her feet into position, and began the descent.

  Aware that what she was doing was not the easiest thing in the world, Roddy anxiously watched her every move. First there was the actual danger to be considered: the possibility of a long fall onto hard stone if she lost her grip or balance. Then . . . a ladder of rope was not the same as a wooden one. You sometimes felt it was alive and an enemy, playing nasty little tricks to unsteady you. And, of course, being in the dark depths of a cave did not help you overcome such feelings.

  Half way down she looked up, no doubt to gloat a little at being number one. Only once, though. The lights must have blinded her, and she did not do it again.

  Then, when only three rungs of the ladder separated Heather McKenzie's feet from their destination, the moose head on the wall of the chamber above let go with a loud crackling sound. Jerking itself free, the ladder slithered like a pair of linked snakes across the chamber floor and, before anyone could even reach for it disappeared over the edge of the hole.

  Heather landed on her feet with a yell that the pit wall turned into a chorus of echoes. The ladder collapsed on her like a net deliberately dropped to entrap her. Working herself loose while those at the top watched in consternation, she at last looked up, her eyes wide and bright in the beams of light aimed down at her.

  "Are you hurt?" Professor Dalby called. The pit wall turned it into "Are you hurt-hurt-hurt-hurt?"

  To Roddy, the answer seemed to float up with maddening slowness. "No. I'm all right-right-right-right."

  "But oh God," Dalby said to the others, "we don't have another ladder. How are we going to get her out of there?"

  It was Roddy who made the move. One of three who had carried ropes into the cave, he had laid his aside when Heather began her descent into the pit. Now he reached for it.

  The others gazed at him in silence.

  Roddy walked over to the broken moose head. Studied it. Shook his head. He paced around the chamber in search of something better and found an outcrop that seemed safe to use. Reaching up with both hands, he tried with all his strength to break it. When it failed to break, he made an end of the rope fast to it.

  No one had yet spoken.

  Uncoiling the rope, Roddy returned to the edge of the pit and looked down. "Heather?"

  "Yes?" she called up.

  "Everything's all right. I'm coming down to get you out of there." "There-there-there-there," boomed the echoes.

  "Roddy," she called back, "be careful!"

  He passed the rope under one thigh, across his b
ody, and over the opposite shoulder, then turned to Dalby and asked, "Okay?" Though rappelling had played a part in the group's training, no member had yet put that mountain-climbing technique to use in a cave.

  "Good, Roddy. A good idea." Dalby was still shaking, no doubt remembering it was he who had chosen the moose head as an anchor for the ladder. "Be careful. Please."

  Roddy stepped carefully off the edge and let the rope take his weight. The others shone their lights on him as he descended. Without incident he reached the bottom.

  Heather McKenzie, stepping close, wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face to his chest.

  When she released him at last and stepped back, Roddywent to work on the rope. "Look, love. You must be a little shaky right now, so I'm going to make a sling for you to sit in while they pull you up." He began to do so. "You'll be holding on with both hands, and this will leave your feet free to keep you away from the wall."

  She nodded.

  "You're all right? You can do it?"

  "I can do it."

  He finished the loop, had her try it, adjusted it to fit her better, then stepped back. With six light-beams shining down on them, they were two bugs under a microscope, but she turned her head and said, "Roddy?"

  "Yes, Heather?"

  "How about a kiss for luck?"

  He stepped forward again.

  He had kissed her before, but always with an awareness that this was Jamaica. Perhaps no longer an English Jamaica, but still very English in its attitudes. And this girl he loved was of an old, old Jamaican family, her father a judge, her mother a woman who would be shocked if, when invited for dinner, you showed up without a jacket and tie.

  Now, though her arms went around his neck and her lips parted as they touched his, he kissed her with the same restraint, holding himself in check out of habit. But it would be a different story the next time they were alone together, he promised himself.

  "Up you go," he said then, smiling at her.

  Those above pulled her up, and then sent the rope back down. Roddy attached it to the ladder and they hauled that up. They dropped the rope once more and pulled him from the pit. When he reached the top and got to his feet, there were cheers.

  Professor Dalby said, "Did you investigate that opening down there, Roddy?"

  In silence Roddy stared at the man.

  "Well," Dalby said unsteadily, "after what's happened, I believe we've had enough for today, anyway. We can come back here another time."

  2

  It was Sunday again. For the second straight weekend Roddy would not be going home to Glencoe.

  In the Kingston suburb of Constant Spring he turned his car up a tree-lined street of fine houses. As he pulled into the driveway of one of the finest, his little Ford thumped over metal rollers designed to keep cows from invading the fenced-in yard. Even in better-class neighborhoods such as this there were peasants who kept cows but, having nowhere to put them, allowed them to wander at will and feed on what they could find. The hibiscus growing in most yards was a favorite food.

  Careful to park the car where it would not block the garage door, Roddy glanced at his watch as he slid from behind the wheel. Heather McKenzie had said that her parents would be going out about five. Of course, they might pointedly hint that he leave at that time too. Her father, the judge, would more than likely frown on the idea of her being left alone in the house with a man. "If that happens, Roddy, you'll have to forgive him. He's really old fashioned."

  It was now only two anyway, so he and Heather would have time enough for what they had to do. Which was to help each other bone up for an unexpected pre-Christmas test in geology.

  As he scooped up his books and closed the car door behind him, Roddy saw a blur of red hurtling toward him from the porch. Tossing the books aside, he dropped to one knee with his arms outstretched. He and the McKenzies' golden retriever, Duke, were buddies.

  With a huge, wet grin of what had to be delight, the dog crashed into him, all but bowling him over, and then romped beside him as he climbed the steps to the veranda. No 200-year old colonial Great House, this. With its tiled roof, stuccoed walls and lavish use of terrazzo, it was as up-to-the-moment as anything in the States. Its mahogany front door opened before he could press the bell-button beside it, and Heather stood there in a white cotton dress, smiling at him.

  "Hi." She touched his arm. "Come on in!"

  When he followed her into the living room, with the dog still prancing at his side, he found her parents seated there. Mrs. McKenzie, a small, quiet woman who seldom had much to say, turned from doing something at her personal desk—it was she who ran the household, Roddy had learned—to greet him with a smile. The judge put down a section of the Sunday Gleaner he was reading and rose with a hand outstretched.

  As if at a signal, the golden retriever pretended to bite Roddy's responding fingers, then turned and loped from the room. Judge McKenzie was a big man in several ways: in the esteem of his countrymen including Prime Minister Alexander Bustamante, in the eyes of his fellow jurists, and at some two hundred twenty pounds he was certainly big in bulk. His hand smothered Roddy's and exerted unexpected pressure. "I understand you saved my daughter's life last Sunday," he said in his surprisingly alto voice.

  Roddy felt uncomfortable. "It wasn't anything that serious, sir. Any of us could have gone down after her."

  "But you are the one who did. Thank you. Mrs. McKenzie and I are grateful." The judge sank back into his easy chair. He seldom said much more than hello. Even at the table, when Roddy came to dinner, he usually confined himself to the few remarks he evidently felt were expected of him. "I trust you are doing well in college, Roddy. How are things at Glencoe?" Except for their names—if he even remembered those—he knew nothing about Mom and Dad and the twins and Luari.

  Heather touched Roddy's hand again. "Hey, we have work to do. Father says we can use his study."

  Permission to use that particular room was what Roddy had been hoping for. Small and cozy, it was at the other end of the house from the living room where the judge and Mrs. McKenzie would probably spend most of their time. The prospect of having to study with those two in the same room had been a little unnerving. Roddy waited, though, for the judge to nod confirmation before allowing Heather to lead him from their presence. In this house such things mattered.

  As he followed Heather along the hall, it suddenly occurred to Roddy to wonder what Judge McKenzie might say if confronted with some of his only daughter's wild limericks.

  "What are you grinning at?” Heather asked him.

  "Oh, nothing."

  "Come on, now. Nobody grins like that for nothing. What is it?”

  “Later,” he promised. “I’ll tell you later.”

  The dog had reappeared. "Hey, you," Heather said to him, "go 'way now. Go chase cows or something. Your timing is off."

  The animal gave them his wet grin, as if in understanding, and obediently departed.

  There was a large, handsome desk in her father's study. Two easy chairs and a couch completed the furnishings.Books all but hid the walls. Heather, lovely in her simple cotton dress, settled herself in one of the easy chairs. In a white sport shirt and gray slacks, Roddy sank into the other. Knowing he would not be invited for dinner, he had dispensed with jacket and tie. The Judge and Mrs. McKenzie were dining with old friends in Spanish Town and would spend the evening there.

  But Heather had a surprise for him. "My folks said I could invite you to stay for dinner and cook for you. How about that?"

  "This evening?" Despite the smile on her face, he could scarcely believe it.

  "Of course this evening. Just the two of us." She took in a breath and let her smile expand. "I even bought a bottle of wine."

  Her parents, Roddy knew, did not drink. "Hey, is that wise?" He didn't think it was.

  "How will they know? They won't be home until late. You'll be long gone and I'll be in bed. You can take the empty bottle with you." She waited for his reply. When n
one was forthcoming, she laughed and added, "I hope you like curried goat. Father calls it food for barbarians, but Mother and I love it and the market had some nice young goat meat yesterday. Do you?"

  Roddy said he did, thinking that if she were to cook caiman or toad he would claim to like those, too. Suddenly realizing he had not seen or heard the McKenzies' housekeeper, who usually prepared the meals here, he added with a frown, "By the way, where's Carlene?"

  "Her church is having a Christmas music recital or something, and she's in the choir—in fact, she's a soloist—so Mother gave her the day off."

  "I see. Well . . . " Roddy opened a book. ”Shall we get at it? Prof promised us a tough one, and geology is my worst subject."

  Seated in chairs eight feet apart, they studied faithfully, reading aloud to each other and quizzing each other. Only once did either interrupt the session, and that was when Heather went to the kitchen for a pitcher of lemonade and some glasses.

  At five, the judge and Mrs. McKenzie looked in to saygoodbye. "You'll be gone by the time we return, Roddy," the judge said, offering his hand. "Good luck with the exam."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Heather, I've put Duke out on the veranda, so he won't be a pest."

  "Good, Father. He would be, too. You know how he is with Roddy."

  They left, and Heather went to the kitchen again, this time to begin preparing her dinner for two.

  "Forty minutes more, the way Carlene taught me to fix it," she said on returning to the study. "I set the buzzer. If we're not finished here, we can come back to this after. Okay?"

  It was more than okay, Roddy decided. This was a side of Heather McKenzie he had not seen before, and it made him feel like leaping to his feet with a yell and waving his arms about.

  The buzzer told them dinner was ready, and although Roddy would have been content to sit at the table in the kitchen, he recognized the occasion for what it was and willingly went to the dining room. But Heather had arranged for them to sit at one corner of the big mahogany table there, close enough to touch.