“We've got to go on,” said Dr. Messinger. “We can't be far from a village now.”
“I feel awful. Wouldn't it be better to wait a day till I am perfectly fit again.”
“It's no good waiting. We've got to get on. D'you think you can manage to get into the canoe?”
Dr. Messinger knew that Tony was in for a long bout. For the first few hours of that day Tony lay limp in the bows. They had shifted the stores so that he could lie full length. Then the fever came on again and his teeth chattered. He sat up and crouched with his head in his knees, shaking all over; only his forehead and cheeks were burning hot under the noon sun. There was still no sign of a village.
It was late in the afternoon when he first saw Brenda. For some time he had been staring intently at the odd shape amidships where the stores had been piled; then he realized that it was a human being.
“So the Indians came back?” he said.
“Yes.”
“I knew they would. Silly of them to be scared by a toy. I suppose the others are following.”
“Yes, I expect so. Try and sit still.”
“Damned fool, being frightened of a toy,” Tony said derisively to the woman amidships. Then he saw that it was Brenda. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I didn't see it was you. You wouldn't be frightened of a toy.”
But she did not answer him. She sat as she used often to sit when she came back from London, huddled over her bowl of bread and milk.
Dr. Messinger steered the boat in to the side. They nearly capsized as he helped Tony out. Brenda got ashore without assistance. She stepped out in her delicate, competent way, keeping the balance of the boat.
“That's what poise means,” said Tony. “D'you know I once saw a questionnaire that people had to fill in when they applied for a job in an American firm, and one of the things they had to answer was `Have you poise?' ”
Brenda was at the top of the bank waiting for him. “What was so absurd about the question was that they had only the applicant's word for it,” he explained laboriously. “I mean — is it a sign of poise to think you have it.”
“Just sit quiet here while I sling your hammock.”
“Yes, I'll sit here with Brenda. I am so glad she could come. She must have caught the three-eighteen.”
She was with him all that night and all the next day. He talked to her ceaselessly but her replies were rare and enigmatic. On the succeeding evening he had another fit of sweating. Dr. Messinger kept a large fire burning by the hammock and wrapped Tony in his own blanket. An hour before dawn Tony fell asleep and when he awoke Brenda had gone.
“You're down to normal again.”
“Thank God. I've been pretty ill, haven't I? I can't remember much.”
Dr. Messinger had made something of a camp. He had chopped a square clear of undergrowth, the size of a small room. Their two hammocks hung on opposite sides of it. The stores were all ashore, arranged in an orderly pile on the tarpaulin.
“How d'you feel?”
“Grand,” said Tony, but when he got out of his hammock he found he could not stand without help. “Of course, I haven't eaten anything. I expect it will be a day or two before I'm really well.”
Dr. Messinger said nothing, but strained the tea clear of leaves by pouring it slowly from one mug into another; he stirred into it a large spoonful of condensed milk.
“See if you can drink this.”
Tony drank it with pleasure and ate some biscuits.
“Are we going on today?” he asked.
“We'll think about it.” He took the mugs down to the bank and washed them in the river. When he came back he said; “I think I'd better explain things. It's no use your thinking you are cured because you are out of fever for one day. That's the way it goes. One day fever and one day normal. It may take a week or it may take much longer. That's a thing we've got to face. I can't risk taking you in the canoe. You nearly upset us several times the day before yesterday.”
“I thought there was someone there I knew.”
“You thought a lot of things. It'll go on like that. Meanwhile we've provisions for about ten days. There's no immediate anxiety there but it's a thing to remember. Besides what you need is a roof over your head and constant nursing. If only we were at a village …”
“I'm afraid I'm being a great nuisance.”
“That's not the point. The thing is to find what is best for us to do.”
But Tony felt too tired to think; he dozed for an hour or so. When he awoke Dr. Messinger was cutting back the bush further. “I'm going to fix up the tarpaulin as a roof.”
(He had marked this place on his map Temporary Emergency Base Camp.)
Tony watched him listlessly. Presently he said, “Look here, why don't you leave me here and go down the river for help?”
“I thought of that. It's too big a risk.”
That afternoon Brenda was back at Tony's side and he was shivering and tossing in his hammock.
When he was next able to observe things, Tony noted that there was a tarpaulin over his head, slung to the tree-trunks. He asked, “How long have we been here?”
“Only three days.”
“What time is it now?”
“Getting on for ten in the morning.”
“I feel awful.”
Dr. Messinger gave him some soup. “I am going downstream for the day,” he said, “to see if there's any sign of a village. I hate leaving you but it's a chance worth taking. I shall be able to get a long way in the canoe now it's empty. Lie quiet. Don't move from the hammock. I shall be back before night. I hope with some Indians to help.”
“All right,” said Tony and fell asleep.
Dr. Messinger went down to the river's edge and untied the canoe; he brought with him a rifle, a drinking cup and a day's provisions. He sat in the stern and pushed out from the bank; the current carried the bow down and in a few strokes of the paddle he was in midstream.
The sun was high and its reflection in the water dazzled and scorched him; he paddled on with regular, leisurely strokes; he was travelling fast. For a mile's stretch the river narrowed and the water raced so that all he had to do was to trail the blade of the paddle as a rudder; then the walls of forest on either side of him fell back and he drifted into a great open lake, where he had to work heavily to keep in motion; all the time he watched keenly to right and left for the column of smoke, the thatched domes, the sly brown figure in the undergrowth, the drinking cattle, that would disclose the village he sought. But there was no sign. In the open water he took up his field glasses and studied the whole wooded margin. But there was no sign.
Later the river narrowed once more and the canoe shot forward in the swift current. Ahead of him the surface was broken by rapids; the smooth water seethed and eddied; a low monotone warned him that beyond the rapids was a fall. Dr. Messinger began to steer for the bank. The current was running strongly and he exerted his full strength; ten yards from the beginning of this rapids his bow ran in under the bank. There was a dense growth of thorn here, overhanging the river; the canoe slid under them and bit into the beach; very cautiously Dr. Messinger knelt forward in his place and stretched up to a bough over his head. It was at that moment he came to grief; the stern swung out downstream and as he snatched at the paddle the craft was swept broadside into the troubled water; there it adopted an eccentric course, spinning and tumbling to the falls. Dr. Messinger was tipped into the water; it was quite shallow in places and he caught at the rocks but they were worn smooth as ivory and afforded no hold for his hands; he rolled over twice, found himself in deep water and attempted to swim, found himself among boulders again and attempted to grapple with them. Then he reached the falls.