“We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them.”
“Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?”
“Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her.”
That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr. Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept.
“Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?” Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheek bones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs.
“Understand?”
But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow.
“Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Six men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?”
At last Rosa spoke. “Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people.”
“I am not asking you to go with Pie-wie people. You and men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?”
Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. “Macushi peoples there,” she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it down-stream towards the hidden country. “Pie-wie peoples there,” she said. “Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples.”
“Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr. Forbes. You like cigarettes — ”
“Yes, give me cigarettes.”
“You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes.”
Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing.
“Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?”
“Men no go,” said Rosa.
“Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?”
“Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples,” said Rosa.
“Oh God,” said Dr. Messinger Wearily. “All right we'll talk about it in the morning.”
“You give me cigarette …”
“It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come.”
“It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come,” said Tony.
Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr. Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches.
“We're all right for stores,” said Dr. Messinger. “There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start tomorrow.”
The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish-hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of `trade' for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bushpig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game bird cost a necklace.
When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr. Messinger called Rosa over to them. “We start tomorrow,” he said.
“Yes, just now.”
“Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that.”
Rosa said nothing.
“Understand?”
“No peoples go in boats,” she said. “All peoples go this way,” and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. “Tomorrow or next day all people go back to village.”
There was a long pause; at last Dr. Messinger said, “You tell the men to come here … It's no use threatening them,” he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. “They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them.”
They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr. Messinger's summons had interrupted her.
“We'd better go across and talk to them.”
Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr. Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair.
“What's the matter?” asked Dr. Messinger. “I told you to bring the men here.”
Rosa said nothing.
“So Macushi people are cowards. They are afraid of Pie-wie people.”
“It's the cassava field,” said Rosa. “We must go back to dig the cassava. Otherwise it will be bad.”
“Listen. I want the men for one, two weeks. No more. After that, all finish. They can go home.”
“It is the time to dig the cassava. Macushi people dig cassava before the big rains. All people go home just now.”
“It's pure blackmail,” said Dr. Messinger. “Let's get out some trade goods.”
He and Tony together prised open one of the cases and began to spread out the contents on a blanket. They had chosen these things together at a cheap store in Oxford Street. The Indians watched the display in unbroken silence. There were bottles of scent and pills, bright celluloid combs set with glass jewels, mirrors, pocket knives with embossed aluminum handles, ribbons and necklaces and barter of more solid worth in the farm of axe-heads, brass cartridge cases and flat, red flasks of gunpowder.
“You give me this,” said Rosa picking out a pale blue rosette, that had been made as a boat-race favour. “Give me this,” she repeated, rubbing some drops of scent into the palm of her hands and inhaling deeply.
“Each man can choose three things from this box if he comes in the boats.”
But Rosa replied monotonously, “Macushi people dig cassava field just now.”
“It's no good,” said Dr. Messinger after half an hour's fruitless negotiation. “We shall have to try with the mice. I wanted to keep them till we reached the Pie-wies. It's a pity. But they'll fall for the mice, you see. I know the Indian mind.”
These mice were comparatively expensive articles; they had cost three and sixpence each, and Tony remembered vividly the embarrassment with which he had witnessed their demonstration on the floor of the toy department.
They were of German manufacture; the size of large rats but conspicuously painted in spots of green and white; they had large glass eyes, stiff whiskers and green and white ringed tails; they ran on hidden wheels, and inside them were little bells that jingled as they moved. Dr. Messinger took one out of their box, unwrapped the tissue paper and held it up to general scrutiny. There was no doubt that he had captured his audience's interest. Then he wound it up. The Indians stirred apprehensively at the sound.