Then after another bout of scratching it occurred to Tony that it was not half past eight in England. There was five hours difference in time. They had altered their watches daily on the voyage out. Which way? It ought to be easy to work out. The sun rose in the east. England was east of America so they got the sun later. It came to them at second hand and slightly soiled after Polly Cockpurse and Mrs. Beaver and Princess Abdul Akbar had finished with it ... Like Polly's dresses which Brenda used to buy for ten or fifteen pounds each ... he fell asleep.
He woke an hour later to hear Dr. Messinger cursing and to see him sitting astride his hammock working with bandages, iodine and his great toe.
``A vampire bat got it. I must have gone to sleep with my foot against the netting. God knows how long he had been at it, before I woke up. That lamp ought to keep them off but it doesn't seem to.''
The black boys were still awake, munching over the fire. ``Vampires plenty bad this side, chief,'' they said. ``Dat why for us no leave de fire.''
``It's just the way to get sick, blast it,'' said Dr. Messinger. ``I may have lost pints of blood.''
Brenda and Jock were dancing together at Anchorage House. It was late, the party was thinning, and now for the first time that evening, it was possible to dance with pleasure. The ballroom was hung with tapestry and lit by candles. Lady Anchorage had lately curtsied her farewell to the last royalty.
``How I hate staying up late,'' Brenda said, ``but it seems a shame to take my Mr. Beaver away. He's so thrilled to be here, bless him, and it was a great effort to get him asked ... Come to think of it,'' she added later, ``I suppose that this is the last year I shall be able to go to this kind of party.''
``You're going through with it?''
``I don't know, Jock. It doesn't really depend on me. It's all a matter of holding down Mr. Beaver. He's getting very restive. I have to feed him a bit of high life every week or so, and I suppose that'll all stop if there's a divorce. Any news of Tony?''
``Not for some time now. I got a cable when he landed. He's gone off on some expedition with a crook doctor.''
``Is it absolutely safe?''
``Oh, I imagine so. The whole world is civilized now isn't it--charabancs and Cook's offices everywhere.''
``Yes, I suppose it is ... I hope he's not brooding. I shouldn't like to think of him being unhappy.''
``I expect he's getting used to things.''
``I do hope so. I'm very fond of Tony, you know, in spite of the monstrous way he behaved.''
There was an Indian village a mile or two distant from the camp. It was here that Tony and Dr. Messinger proposed to recruit porters for the two hundred mile march that lay between them and the Pie-wie country. The niggers were river men and could not be taken into Indian territory. They would go back with the boat.
At dawn Tony and Dr. Messinger drank a mug each of hot cocoa and ate some biscuits and what was left over from the bully beef opened the night before. Then they set out for the village. One of the blacks went in front with cutlass to clear the trail. Dr. Messinger and Tony followed one behind the other; another black came behind them carrying samples of trade goods--a twenty dollar Belgian gun, some rolls of printed cotton, hand-mirrors in coloured celluloid frames, some bottles of highly scented pomade.
It was a rough, unfrequented trail, encumbered by numerous fallen trunks; they waded knee-deep through two streams that ran to feed the big river; underfoot there was sometimes a hard network of bare root, sometimes damp and slippery leaf mould.
Presently they reached the village. They came into sight of it quite suddenly, emerging from the bush into a wide clearing. There were eight or nine circular huts of mud and palm thatch. No one was visible but two or three columns of smoke, rising straight and thin into the morning air, told them that the place was inhabited.
``Dey people all afeared,'' said the black boy.
``Go and find someone to speak to us,'' said Dr. Messinger.
The nigger went to the low door of the nearest house and peered in.
Dere ain't no one but women dere,'' he reported. ``Dey dressing deirselves. Come on out dere,'' he shouted into the gloom. ``De chief want talk to you.''
At last, very shyly, a little old woman emerged, clad in the filthy calico gown that was kept for use in the presence of strangers. She waddled towards them on bandy legs. Her ankles were tightly bound with blue beads. Her hair was lank and ragged; her eyes were fixed on the earthenware bowl of liquid which she carried. When she was a few feet from Tony and Dr. Messinger she set the bowl on the ground, and still with downcast eyes, shook hands with them. Then she stooped, picked up the bowl once more and held it to Dr. Messinger.
``Cassiri,'' he explained, ``the local drink made of fermented cassava.''
He drank some and handed the bowl to Tony. It contained a thick, purplish liquid. When Tony had drunk a little, Dr. Messinger explained, ``It is made in an interesting way. The women chew the root up and spit it into a hollow tree-trunk.''
He then addressed the woman in Wapishiana: She looked at him for the first time. Her brown, Mongol face was perfectly blank, devoid alike of comprehension and curiosity. Dr. Messinger repeated and amplified his question. The woman took the bowl from Tony and set it on the ground.
Meanwhile other faces were appearing at the doors of the huts. Only one woman ventured out. She was very stout and she smiled confidently at the visitors.
``Good morning,'' she said. ``How do you do? I am Rosa. I speak English good. I live bottom-side two years with Mr. Forbes. You give me cigarette.''
``Why doesn't this woman answer?''
``She no speak English.''
``But I was speaking Wapishiana.''
``She Macushi woman. All these people Macushi people.''
``Oh. I didn't know. Where are the men?''
``Men all go hunting three days.''
``When will they be back?''
``They go after bush pig.''
``When will they be back?''
``No, bush pig. Plenty bush pig. Men all go hunting. You give me cigarette.''
``Listen, Rosa, I want to go to the Pie-wie country.''
``No, this Macushi. All the people Macushi.''
``But we want to go Pie-wie.''
``No, all Macushi. You give me cigarette.''
``It's hopeless.'' said Dr. Messinger. ``We shall have to wait till the men come back.'' He took a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. ``Look,'' he said, ``cigarettes.''
``Give me.''
``When men come back from hunting you come to river and tell me. Understand?''
``No, men hunting bush pig. You give me cigarettes.'' Dr. Messinger gave her the cigarettes.
``What else you got?'' she said.
Dr. Messinger pointed to the load which the second nigger had laid on the ground.
``Give me,'' she said.
``When men come back, I give you plenty things if men come with me to Pie-vies.''
``No, all Macushi here.''
``We aren't doing any good,'' said Dr. Messinger. ``We'd better go back to camp and wait. The men have been away three days. It's not likely they will be much longer ... I wish I could speak Macushi.''