The river lord

by Kay Thorpe

  `Most of which I'll have to go without.' Keely ran her fingers lightly through her side-flicked fringe and grimaced. `Luckily this doesn't take any upkeep. Think you could tuck a lipstick into a corner for me?'

  `Sure thing.' He grinned back. 'I only hope nobody takes a notion to go through my kit before we set off.'

  Luncheon was dispensed with as soon as possible in order to get round the shops before they closed. Keely purchased serviceable blue jeans and a couple of lightweight denim shirts, secured the advised tennis shoes and felt herself ready, if not exactly over-equipped, to meet whatever circumstances threw at her. Her camera case was going to be too bulky for Jason to take on board unnoticed. It would have to go along under the tarpaulin with her. There was room for plenty of spare film.

  He left her eventually at three-thirty to return to the Rodrigus where his uncle was expecting him, taking along her spare garments in a paper bag to smuggle up to his room. He and Sir Mark were scheduled to join the Dorita early the following morning. He arranged to see Keely on the wharf at one o'clock and promised the phone call for fifteen minutes past. That was the one weak spot in the whole plan. Relying on outside help was always a risk.

  The rest of the day passed with intolerable slowness. Keely spent it completing her schedule of shots around the city, but her heart wasn't in the job. What she didn't already have for the original feature she could get when they returned, she decided eventually.

  The anticipated cable was waiting for her when she returned to her hotel, brief as always but encouraging in its approval of her intent. Now, less than ever, did she have any choice. Her boats were already burned behind her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE night was moonless with only the stars to liven the black tropic sky. From her vantage point behind a couple of huge packing cases, Keely looked out across the wharf at mast silhouettes against the glittering backcloth and wondered which of those craft was the one she was shortly to join. It was only just one o'clock so there was nothing to worry about as yet, but she hoped Jason was going to be able to make it. So much hinged on his being there. Without him she stood little chance of even finding the right boat, much less boarding it.

  Getting to the wharf at all at this hour had been no cynosure, her taxi driver obviously unused to picking up young females dressed like cabin boys whose only luggage appeared to be a couple of cameras. He had talked to her like a father—at least, that was what she had assumed. Being able to understand only about one word in half a dozen made translation very rough and misinterpretation exceedingly easy. His final caustic comment involving the word `Europeans' had led her to believe he considered the whole lot of them quite mad anyway.

  The wharf itself wasn't exactly deserted either. Twice she had had to dodge those who might have considered her presence here at this time of night unusual enough to merit investigation. A sudden slight sound over on her left made her tense again. She gave a small sigh of relief as Jason came into view around a corner of the packing case.

  `Nearly didn't make it,' he admitted a trifle breathlessly. `Couldn't find any transport down here for ages.' He looked at the luminous dial of his watch. 'If my man doesn't let me down they should be sending somebody to fetch Greg out in a few minutes.'

  `Which is the Dorita?' she whispered, conscious that sound carried far at night.

  `You can't see her from here. She sits too far down in the water. Don't worry, there's a good strong rope ladder down to the deck. You won't ...' He broke off, motioning her to silence. 'Someone coming.'

  The someone proved to be a man in some kind of uniform who moved with purpose towards the point on the wharf edge Jason had indicated bare moments before, disappearing over it with agility. There was a pause which seemed all the lengthier for its tension, then came the sound of voices and the man reappeared, followed closely by another wearing jeans and a hastily pulled on sweater.

  Keely drew back involuntarily as they passed, although they were yards away from where the two of them stood hidden. Greg looked as one might expect a man to look on receiving an unexpected phone call at one o'clock in the morning. There was a certain grim satisfaction in the thought of his reactions when he found the caller had rung off.

  `Come on. We don't have that much time.' Jason was already moving. 'I've got to be away again before he comes back or the game's up before we start.'

  The rope ladder proved reasonably easy to negotiate, although the drop to the moving deck gave her some cause for care as she eased herself downwards in Jason's wake. The feel of the boards beneath her feet was reassuring. Down here in the shadow of the wharf it was difficult to assess the Dorita's lines. Jason had said earlier that she was a twenty-six-footer, Keely would have thought less, but she was no judge. One thing was certain, she was not by any means a young craft. Clean but battered was about the kindest way of putting it. One could only trust to providence, and a

  gradually accumulating knowledge of her owner, that she was watertight.

  The tarpaulin was stashed aft as Jason had said, its bulk enough to hide both her and her case when she slid down between it and the bulwark. Jason pulled the top layer over her, murmured a word of encouragement and went, leaving her to the hard deck, a position already uncomfortably cramped and the slapping sound of water seemingly only inches below.

  She eased herself gingerly after a moment or two, then froze again as the deck moved sharply to the weight of a body descending upon it. That would hardly be Jason coming back, which meant it had to be Greg himself. Lord, he'd been quick! A moment or so earlier and he would have -caught the other climbing out of the boat. Then the fat really would have been in the fire. It was going to be that anyway in the morning, but the moment was too far away as yet to start thinking about. Right now she had enough to concern her in simply keeping still and quiet while the footsteps crossed the deck and went below.

  The night was the longest Keely had ever known in her life to date. Long before dawn she was wishing with all her heart that she was back in her comfortable bed in the hotel, and would have abandoned the whole idea forthwith had she only dared to make the move to leave the boat. She even tried easing herself out from behind the tarpaulin at one point preparatory to making a dash for the side, but it proved impossible to do it without creating some noise, and any sound on deck would carry straight down to the cabin. If Greg awoke and came up to investigate before she could get away there was no knowing what might happen. With only the two of them on board there would be nothing to stop him doing exactly as he thought fit with her, and she could imagine the kind of anger which would be driving him. A man like that was capable of just about anything. At least in the morning she would have Jason and Sir Mark to stick up for her, though at this point even that thought was beginning to lose some of its comforting reassurance.

  Towards five she managed to doze off, waking sometime later with a jerk to the sound of feet along the boards beneath her ear. The relative coolness of the night had departed together with the darkness. Through a chink in her covering she could see bright daylight and feel the sticky heat already building. It was a moment or two before she realised they were no longer moored to the wharf but moving up river. How long they had been under way she had no means of knowing. It just went to show that one could sleep in almost any circumstances if weary enough.

  By moving her arm just a little she managed to catch a glimpse of her watch, only to find that it had stopped at seven. It had to be quite a bit later than that judging by the heat of the sun, but how much? She daren' t risk emerging from her hiding place until they were far enough up river to make turning back not only undesirable but thoroughly uneconomical. If she had thought to ask Jason their actual time of sailing she might have been better able to calculate their position, but it had occurred to neither of them to mention it. She would simply have to stay under here as long as she could and trust to luck.

  The following hour made the previous night seem almost comfortable by comparison. As the heat grew s
o the temperature beneath the canvas mounted until it became unbearable. Perspiring, and craving for fresh air, Keely finally knew she could stand it no longer. Come what may she had to get out of this place.

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed aside the folds lying across her and struggled to a sitting position, blinking a little in the strong light as she got her bearings. Greg was at the helm with his back to her, Sir Mark close by talking to him. Of Jason there was no sign. One of the deck hands

  stood only a few feet away coiling a rope, wearing only a ragged pair of trousers cut off at the knees. As Keely moved he turned his head and saw her, stopping what he was doing to stand staring at her with such blank amazement she nearly burst out laughing. Abruptly the spell was broken as he let out a yell which jerked both. Sir Mark's and Greg's heads round as one, and Keely felt her heart start pounding painfully against her ribs. Now for it !

  Greg was the first to move, handing over the helm to the other hand who had appeared from below and striding aft with a look on his face which boded ill for the next few minutes. Behind him, Sir Mark still seemed to be trying to convince himself that what he was seeing was not a trick of the imagination. And now Jason himself appeared on the scene, popping up through the open hatch like a jack-in-abox with an air of having been taken totally unawares.

  End of Act One, thought Keely fleetingly as Greg reached her. Then he was hauling her roughly to her feet, his fingers bruising her skin.

  `What the devil do you think you're playing at?' he rapped out.

  `Isn't it obvious?' She was tense but uncowed. 'I'm coming with you.'

  `Like hell you are !' He .turned and shouted some command to the man at the wheel in Portuguese, then looked at Sir Mark who had come up alongside. 'That nephew of yours has to have had something to do with this !'

  `Jason?' The older man whipped his head round to view that individual in quick anger. 'Is that true?'

  `It has nothing to do with Jason,' Keely denied before he could answer. 'I found my own way aboard.' Her eyes flashed to the man at the helm and back again on a surge of desperation. 'Sir Mark, you're not going to turn back now, are you? It's going to hold up the whole expedition another day if you do!'

  `And all thanks to you.' Greg might have been less dangerous if he'd shouted; this clipped quietness was unnerving in the extreme. `We're two hours out, so that's a total of six you're going to have to account for.'

  She was too concerned with other matters to pay. much heed to the implication. 'Sir Mark !' she appealed.

  `I'm afraid she's right, Greg.' There was resignation in the statement. 'We can't afford the time. We're pushing it as it is. Even another day might make the difference between success and failure.'

  `We'll have to risk it, that's all.'

  `No.' The negative came out with authority, though backed by an apologetic smile. 'I'll acknowledge your right to make most major decisions on this trip, but I can't accept any hold-up unless it's entirely essential. Miss Weston was wrong to come aboard without permission, but seeing that she is here she will have to stay.'

  There was a momentary silence while the two men eyed one another, then Greg curtly nodded.

  `You're paying the expenses. Have it your own way. Only if I've got to take her along it's going to be on my terms.' The hand still holding Keely's arm tightened until it hurt. `You'll do as you're damn well told, is that clear? You cross me once and you'll wish yourself anywhere but on this boat!'

  Keely put up a hand to rub the arm he had released as he strode forward, caught Sir Mark's eye and ruefully smiled. Not exactly the gentle type, is he? I seem to have stirred up a regular hornets' nest!'

  Not without just cause.' He was trying not to smile, and apparently finding it rather difficult. 'You're a very persistent young woman, Miss Weston. I can't remember ever having come across one quite so self-willed before.'

  `My editor doesn't recognise the word "can't",' she responded. 'Do you think you could bring yourself to call me

  Keely, Sir Mark? I haven't been Miss Weston to anyone for years.'

  `Only if you will drop the Sir. Formality on a boat this size could become irksome, I agree.' He glanced round as his nephew approached, his expression changing a little. `And now we'll have the truth of the matter. Greg was right, wasn't he? You two did collaborate on this affair.'

  Jason looked uncomfortable but not particularly repentant. 'I didn't see why he should have things all his own way. Keely won't be any passenger. I think she's already proved her mettle.'

  `So do I.' This time the smile was not held back. 'A regular Amazon ! You must be exhausted after such an ordeal in this kind of heat. Go below and have a rest. A long cool drink wouldn't go amiss, I imagine.'

  `Wonderful!' She eased her damp shirt away from her skin and pulled a face. 'Plus a change of clothes. Jason, do you have my things handy?'

  `Yes.' He avoided his uncle's eyes. 'I'll show you where to go. There's only the one cabin and the galley.'

  `I wasn't expecting the Queen Elizabeth.' For the first time Keely had opportunity to view her surroundings. They were running close in to the left bank of the river, almost close enough to reach out with a boathook and touch the overhanging trees. At this point the forest came right down to the water's edge, thick and impenetrable and looking as if no human foot had ever trodden its depths. Which was more than probably true, she reflected. Even between the coast and Manaus there were whole tracts of jungle that had never been explored, and perhaps never would. The Amazon basin covered a colossal two and a half million square miles, most of it unmapped and unknown. It was a strangely humbling thought.

  Greg was back at the wheel, broad shoulders squared to the fore. Only in the whiteness about the knuckles of the

  hands gripping the spokes was any sign of tension revealed. He didn't so much as glance in their direction as Keely followed Jason down through the hatch.

  The cabin was long and , narrow, with berths each side that doubled as couches and a central table. There were two other berths fastened back to the bulkheads at present, but Keely could see what Jason had meant by the lack of space for all of them to sleep down here; even with the ports open it would be airless at night. The gallery was on the left at the foot of the companionway, tiny, but adequately equipped from what she could see of it. The whole place was spotless, though without any trimmings apart from a couple of gaily coloured covers on the couches. The deck planks beneath her feet were bare and smooth, worn by countless scrubbings to a pleasing whiteness. Not a luxury craft by any means, but somehow a singularly comfortable one.

  Jason had a soft top bag open on one of the berths and was pulling out her spare pair of jeans and shirt.

  `You can have those you're wearing laundered when we stop for the night,' he said. 'Greg's arranged to stay with some people he knows who've got a house further up the Negro.'

  `More Lotus Eaters?' She was intrigued despite herself. Who on earth would want to build a house in the jungle? And how did they live? 'He has some unusual friends.'

  `He's not exactly the conventional type himself.' He sat down on the berth and grimaced across at her. 'I've a fancy I still have my session to come. He didn't believe what you said about my not being involved for a minute.'

  `He wouldn't believe anything any woman said on principle,' she snorted. 'Tell him to mind his own business !' `Trouble is it is his business. It's his boat.'

  She looked at him quickly. 'Are you regretting having helped me, Jason?'

  `No.' The response was a little too hasty. He realised it,

  and smiled wryly. 'Well, not exactly. It's just that now you're here, I'm beginning to realise what I might have let you in for ... not just with Greg, but in every way. You heard what Mark was saying about the rapids. There's already a lot of debris coming down the river, which means flooding further up; and if the main river is in flood already some of the tributaries must be all but impassable now.'

  `But with luck not the Canidas. Let's not meet the difficulties
till we come to them. I'm here, and that's all that counts with me at the moment.'

  `All?' His voice sounded curious. 'Does your job mean absolutely everything to you, Keely?'

  `Well, no.' She was surprised and not a little perturbed. Surely he wasn't going to start getting all emotional over their friendship now when things were going so well. He had been a brick helping her this way, and she was infinitely grateful, but complications of the kind he seemed to be hinting at were the last thing she wanted. Why, oh, why did men always have to spoil a relationship? She made an effort to keep her own voice light. 'Right now getting out of these things and into fresh seems a priority. Do you mind?'

  `Of course not.' He jumped up at once. 'What about that drink?'

  `I'll help myself when I'm dressed. How about coffee for all of us? A kind of peace-offering, you might say.'

  `The way Greg looked he'll probably toss his overboard.'

  `And me after it.' Her laugh was slightly forced. 'I don't see him being as childish as that. Anyway, I did promise your uncle I'd make myself useful on this trip. I don't want to give any grounds for complaint.'

  `You won't do that. Mark is developing quite a soft spot for you. He had a daughter who died when she was seven. If she'd lived she would have been just about your age.'

  Keely watched him mount the companionway with some

  compassion. She was beginning to understand Jason Colby. Losing his own parents so young, adopted by those to whom he could never really be anything but second best; it had to have had some effect on his stability. They actually had a great deal in common, though not in any way scheduled to bring them together. For her there would always be the shadow of her own broken home to mar any close relationship with a man. It would have to be a very strong-willed one indeed who overrode the doubts inside.

  Freshened up, she felt better. She found coffee in one of the store cupboards and got mugs from a rack in the galley. The stove was fired by Calor gas and mounted on gimbals to counteract the movement of the boat. Mounting to the deck again carefully balancing the loaded tray, she saw they were now further out towards mid-river, obviously following an unmarked channel. Greg was still at the wheel, back towards her. He had taken off his shirt and wore only jeans and rope-soled shoes. Muscle rippled across shoulders tanned deep mahogany.