by Kay Thorpe
Dark figures seemed to melt out of the trees, resolving themselves into a party of roughly a dozen men, naked except for narrow thongs about their waists and carrying the long tubes instantly recognisable from a hundred films as blowpipes. Greg shouted a greeting in a dialect totally
foreign to Keely's ears, and was answered after a short pause by the man who appeared to be the leader of the group. The latter came aboard somewhat hesitantly, his recognition of Greg himself mingled with a certain reticence concerning his companions. Spotting Keely, the Indian stopped dead and stared, then broke into an excited tirade of words which brought a sudden quirk to Greg's lips.
`He's never seen red hair before,' he said. 'Come to that, he's probably never seen a white woman before. If this is any example, you're going to create quite a sensation when we reach the village.'
Not nearly so much of a sensation as these people would create back home, she thought dryly. If the women of the tribe adopted the same casual appearance she was going to feel positively overdressed ! She returned Greg's gaze with careful aplomb. 'If we don't get started it's going to be dark before we even get there. I'd rather not risk spending the night in the forest.'
`I'd rather not bother making the trip at all,' put in Jason unexpectedly. 'Anyone mind if I stay on board tonight? I—er—still feel a bit off colour.'
`Sure. Make yourself at home.' Greg sounded easy. 'All being well, we'll be back here first thing in the morning. mark, how about you? It's quite a trek.'
`You wouldn't keep me away.' The older man's enthusiasm more than made up for his nephew's lack of it. `There's no knowing what I might find !' His glance towards Jason held a quality of disappointment in with the sympathy. 'Can't be helped. These bugs get to all of us one time or another. Let's hope you feel better by morning.'
`Yes.' Jason caught Keely's eye and had the grace to colour up a little. 'I'm sure I shall.'
Carrying only the items considered essential for personal survival, and with socks drawn up and over the bottoms of trouser legs against the possibility of an encounter with
snakes, the three remaining members of the expedition went ashore to join the Indians. Only four were to accompany them, the others having gone on ahead to announce their coming. A last wave to Jason still standing on the afterdeck watching them, and then the primeval forest had closed around them, dark and strangely silent in those first moments. The trees were dense, thick with lianas twisted like cables about their trunks and draped across between. Sixty feet overhead the green canopy filtered the daylight down to a gloomy dimness which oppressed the spirit and weighed heavily on the nerves. There was little undergrowth anywhere, only huge fallen trees torn from the ground by past floods and left to rot where they lay, roots writhing, like snakes in the dank atmosphere.
A bird called suddenly somewhere within the depths of the foliage far overhead, and was answered by another further off, each sound possessing an acute clarity. Other sounds began to penetrate the overall blanket created by the rushing river as they drew further away, small, unidentifiable but all around. Schooled by popular belief despite all experience, Keely half expected to see jaguars at every turn of the trail, or boa-constrictors winding glistening coils about overhanging boughs. In reality she saw nothing at all until Sir Mark began pointing out things to her : a miniature tree frog almost the same colour as the trunk to which it clung; wood butterflies camouflaged by their subtle shades of grey and brown. Only once did anything even remotely resembling her deeper fears cross their path when an emerald green snake about two feet in length slid swiftly and silently away from their approach, ignored by the Indian who had almost stepped on it.
The village opened up almost unexpectedly before them, set within a large clearing obviously man-made and maintained. Instead of separate round huts there seemed to be just four huge communal ones, palm-thatched and oblong in
shape, arranged round an open space which seemed to represent the village square. Separate from the rest stood one open-sided building Keely couldn't decide the purpose of. A school, perhaps; or a cookhouse for when it rained? Ten to one she was totally wrong. European priorities held no bearing here.
The whole population of some sixty or so men, women and children had turned out to see the visitors, staring with the same impassive countenance as those of the men they had seen earlier in the canoe. Only Keely's appearance caused any real excitement, the women pointing at her as they broke into unintelligible jabberings, broad smiles creasing many faces in comparing her slender shape with their own ample proudly naked curves. It was her hair which elicited the most admiration, black-haired beauties crowding about her to touch it with wondering hands and a lot of giggling.
let them get used to you,' Greg advised, standing to one side and looking anything but sorry for her predicament.
Grin and bear it was what he meant. Half laughing, half protesting, Keely finally managed to escape the ring of females, pulling a wry face in Mark Colby's direction.
`First time I ever had that effect on a crowd !'
`It isn't over yet.' Greg appeared to be enjoying himself. `They'll take care of you while we talk things over with the headman.'
`Why can't I come with you?' she demanded. 'It's as much in my interests to know what's going on.'
`You're not allowed.' His tone was bland. 'This is men talk, honey. The women cook and weave and look after the children. You wouldn't want to throw a spanner in the works, would you?' He said something to one of the older women nearby which brought forth a cackle of laughter. `This is Makru, the headman's wife. She'll show you where you'll sleep. I hope you can tackle a hammock, because
that's all there is. Come on, Mark, we settle terms before we eat.'
Left alone amidst the still giggling circle of women as the two of them joined the men, Keely had no recourse but to accept her lot. 'All right, Makru,' she said resignedly, `lead on.'
The words might not have been understood, but the meaning got through. Surrounded again, Keely found herself pushed and pulled good-naturedly in the direction of the nearest long hut. The swift tropical dusk was already falling over the clearing, outlining the far bank of forest against a sky streaked with amber from the vanishing sun. Unfamiliar cooking smells tantalised the nostrils from several different directions, mingling with the scent of wood smoke and dried palm. A flock of small green parrots settled noisily in one of the trees left standing about the clearing, squabbling for position like schoolboys at a football match. There was a sense of timelessness, as if the world had stopped right here thousands of years ago. Little could have changed since then.
Inside, the but was warm and dry with just about enough light left to make out the woven hammocks slung between the poles in groups, with scanty heaps of possessions beneath. Two of the women found spare hammocks and selected a clear place for them, one slung singly, the other two one above the other next door. Keely made to dump her canvas duffle bag on the ground beneath the single hammock, only to be stopped by giggles and much shaking of heads. She was, she understood, to occupy the lower of the other two, for some obscure reason. She didn't suppose it made much difference considering the total lack of privacy throughout the hut. In any case, she could always change back again later.
Being unable to communicate in anything but sign language made things difficult, she thought in some frustration when one of the younger women said something directly to her. She held out her hand and shrugged with a wry smile to indicate her lack of comprehension. The girl flashed a smile back and pulled at the sleeve of Keely's shirt, indicating quite clearly that she should remove it.
`No I' she said in some alarm, and clutched the collar closer about her throat in fear that they might forcibly disrobe her. Whether she was breaking any tribal taboos or not, she was not about to join the majority. That was going too far !
She needn't have worried. Though obviously puzzled by her reluctance, the girl made no further attempt to persuade her. Nudity to these people was not only natura
l but apparently desirable, an attitude evidenced in the proud manner in which they wore it. The pale-skinned stranger's preference for covering was not understood, but it would be indulged.
Food was eaten communally, too, at roughly hewn benches set beneath an open-sided shelter similar to the one Keely had seen on first entering the village. Men and children were served first, although as a guest Keely enjoyed the privilege of joining her companions for a meal consisting of fatty lumps of some unidentifiable meat mixed with a porridge-like gruel and accompanied by a coarse bread; the latter, Greg informed her, made from a flour obtained by grating and pounding the pupunha coconut. It was also, he added in an undertone on seeing her expression of distaste at the appearance of the main dish, considered impolite to leave anything. Providing the food had been cooked there was little danger of infection. Keely screwed up her courage and bolted the whole lot down without tasting it, using, her fingers as everyone else did and wiping them queasily on a clean handkerchief afterwards, much to the amusement of those watching, who simply licked their own free of grease.
`Bear up,' Greg murmured on rising. 'There's more to come. A celebration in honour of our arrival.'
`Can't I just slip away to bed?', she pleaded. 'I don't feel too well.'
`It's all in the mind.' He sounded without sympathy. 'A lot depends on keeping good will if we're going to get those canoes and men tomorrow. So far they're in agreement, but if you insult them by refusing to stay for the ceremonies they're going to withdraw that offer for a start. They could even turn nasty. Just keep swallowing and sit tight.'
`What exactly was that meat?' asked Mark. 'I didn't find it unpleasant, but I can't say I've ever come across that particular taste before.'
`I don't want to know,' Keely put in hurriedly before Greg could answer. 'I'll be glad to get back to fish myself.'
The ceremonies were simple but colourful, the Indians donning fancy arm and leg bands woven from palm fibre and decorated, in the case of the men at least, with toucan feathers. The ritual dances, performed in firelight under a canopy of stars, were emotive if also a little repetitive. At intervals a gourd was passed around the assembled company containing a frothy grey-coloured liquid made from maize which was the native equivalent of beer. Both Greg and Mark drank a little of the evil-looking stuff whenever it came round, but nothing was said When Keely passed it on. Not for anything could she have brought herself to touch it.
Bedtime came as something of a mixed blessing. She was thankful for the darkness of the but when they first got inside, although the eyes soon adjusted to the lack of light. Greg fixed mosquito nets over both the single hammock and lower one of the pair to the accompaniment of curious stares and a great deal of what sounded like ribald comment from those taking to their own hammocks about them, but didn't bother with the one he obviously intended to occupy.
`Just take off your shoes,' he advised Keely without particular inflection. 'I'll arrange the net round you. It's only effective if it doesn't touch you anywhere. No, not that one,' as she made automatically for the single hammock. `This.' Even in the darkness it was possible to see his mouth pull into a mocking line. 'The women sleep below their menfolk. It's traditional.'
`Well, I'm breaking tradition,' she hissed back at him. 'I prefer my own company, thanks !'
`You don't have any choice. Codes of conduct are strictly laid down, for visitors as much as anyone else.'
`All right, then,' she retorted, 'so let Mark have the upper berth. If I have to appear subservient to anyone I'll do my own choosing !'
`I doubt if I could swing myself that far up,' cut in the latter somewhat uncomfortably. 'And I'm afraid Greg is right, Keely. We have to obey the rules of these people.'
'So get in and shut up.' Greg sounded impatient. 'How much co-operation do you think I'll get out of the men in here tomorrow if they see me apparently unable to handle one female? I told you I couldn't afford to lose face. I meant it !'
Conscious of the watching eyes, Keely bit back any further argument and pulled off her shoes before sliding carefully on to the hammock. She found it surprisingly comfortable once her mind had adjusted itself to the lack of support. She tried not to look at Greg as he settled the net into place, but it was difficult if not impossible to ignore the gleam of derision in his eyes.
`Maybe you should have stayed on board with Jason,' he said softly, bending to tuck the top edges securely about the supporting ropes. 'You might have felt safer. Comfortable?' He shrugged when she didn't answer, and moved on to help Mark with his net in the same way.
Keely lay as still as possible listening to the chatter of voices all around her as people settled down for the night.
This was communal living with a vengeance, each family separated only by a narrow space between their hammocks and the next group. Greg came back, kicking off his lightweight boots before swinging himself up above her. She saw the woven fibres sag and give as his weight settled and hoped the fastenings would hold secure against the strain. Despite that danger, there was something faintly reassuring in his proximity, like having an extra roof over one's head on a stormy night. Perhaps after all the sleeping arrangements were as much for the protection of the female as indication of her standing in the tribe. At this height she was far enough off the ground to be safe from anything crawling, and covered from above against anything which might fall from the roof. It was worth thinking about.
Thinking was all she did over the following couple of hours. Even with the many voices stilled at last, there was an almost constant creaking from hammock fastenings to every movement, strange rustlings in the thatch overhead, all mingling with the muted but still audible sounds from the night outside. Once she thought she heard a swish of wings as something swooped across the interior of the hut, and lay there with the hair prickling the back of her neck waiting for it to come again, but the sound was not repeated.
The air grew hotter and staler as the night wore on. Keely thought of Jason back on board the Dorita and envied him his solitude. With the rest of them gone he would no, doubt be using the cabin. Had she given any thought at all to what it might be like spending the night here in the village she would have opted to stay on board herself, and be blowed to the proprieties. Except that she would have been condemning Jason to yet another night on deck, because he almost certainly would not have been prepared to share the cabin. He was an odd mixture—half man, half boy; a pleasant companion, but one for whom she felt an almost motherly affection, despite the similarity in their ages.
Perhaps if his uncle began to recognise his lack of enthusiasm for the kind of life they led it might help matters. Jason needed to be made to feel he mattered for himself as much as his usefulness as an assistant.
It was no use, she acknowledged eventually. She was going to have to get some fresh air. If she was very quiet she might be able to creep outside without anyone hearing her. After the beer everyone had drunk few were in any fit state to hear anything before morning.
She rolled cautiously out of the hammock and felt for her shoes, remembering to tap them upside down on the earthen floor before putting them on in case something had crawled inside. Weaving between the groups, she finally made it to the outer doorway, passing through into a night made fragrant by the rain shower that had come some short time before and leaning against the palm-thatched side to take in deep breaths. The air was warm, the humidity diminished by the rain. The closest trees were those left grouped about the central compound, their trunks pale marble in the moonlight. Beyond the furthest but the forest rose dark and mysterious, full of unknown danger yet the only home known to these people who slept so peacefully in its midst.
Keely strolled a few yards out into the open, sensing the loneliness of this forest life. The clearing was an island in the jungle, the tribe an isolated race barely touched by the outside world. There was so much that could be done for them, yet was it really needed? Even in coming here themselves they could be sowing the seeds of eventual destructio
n, leaving behind germs from which the Indian possessed no immunity; changing the pattern of ages. They were happy enough. Why introduce them to the complexities of modern-day living?
It took the sudden scuttling movement of the large dark patch she had taken to be an upturned bowl of some kind to
jerk her out of her introspection into shuddering reality. The thing was a spider the size of a soup plate, covered in hair which appeared to be standing on end along with her own. Despite the fact that the creature was not heading directly for her, she took a hasty step backwards, to feel herself caught and held by a pair of arms all too familiar.
`It's probably more frightened of you than you of it,' Greg said just behind her ear.
`You wouldn't like to bet on it?' She was trembling, and not only with fear. 'Is that a tarantula?'
`One kind. There are several. They'll only bite a human being in self-defence, and it's rarely fatal.' He was holding her lightly against him, not attempting to let her go. 'What are you doing wandering around out here on your own?'
`It got stuffy inside. I needed some air.' The spider had stopped again contemplatively. Keely watched in apprehensive fascination, glad for once of Greg's presence. 'Do they often come in to the village)'
`I wouldn't think so. It seems to have lost its bearings. Come away and leave it to sort itself out.'
`You're not going to kill it?'
Not unless it makes for one of the malocas. It can cast those hairs like a porcupine casts its quills, and they're just as painful. We'll just wait and watch from a safe distance.'
They drew back into the shadows, standing there in silence for a moment in the moon-slatted darkness. The enigmatic smile on Greg's lips drove Keely to break the pause.