"Wear that," he said. "We'll start right away."
I glanced at my watch. It was nearly midday.
"Aren't you going to arouse suspicion aboard Etosha if all of us are seen trekking away from the beach? Garland will be watching through his glasses."
Stein wheeled round. "I'm giving the orders from now on, Captain. We start at once. You know where this beach lies, and you know my route. You'll give Posto Velho, near the mouth of the river, a wide berth." He didn't know it was the best part of twenty miles away. "You'll aim to strike the main river flow away from the mouth somewhere near the first cataract. No nonsense."
I looked round despairingly at the desolate beach, with the grey gloom over it all. Through the murk to the north I could see the hilly plateau which runs westward from the high northern hill which was one of my landmarks. Macfadden and I had tried that way after the wreck of the Phylira. We returned exhausted after ten miles, for the jagged hills came right down to the beach and, if one wanted to get by, it was a question of dodging between the tide as it came in and a narrow strip of soft sand in which one sank halfway up to the knees. We had probed the back of the beach like two hounds tufting up a scent, and after two days we had found a narrow gap about four miles south and east of the causeway through which we had floundered. We had almost given up at the sight of the high shifting dunes on the far, or landward side of the neck, but our salvation was a path, hard and compacted by elephants' feet, leading northwards.
Stein still held the Luger and kept his distance. Once away from the beach, he could let me run away — to certain death. The only water was in a couple of canteens he had. I was his prisoner — if he could get me away from the beach.
"The loads are divided into thirty-five pound packs, and twenty-five pound for the girl," he said briefly. "You first, Captain."
I glanced at Anne and saw the misery in her eyes. I shrugged my shoulders and found a series of parcels — but no water — neatly marked "Captain Peace."
I shouldered it. It felt like lead. The wet cap on my head added to my general discomfort.
"There's no water," I said.
"Not for you," grinned Stein. "When they take a man prisoner in war, they take away his pants. Metaphorically speaking, water is your pants. You won't get far without it."
There was nothing to say.
"We strike south for a couple of miles," I said harshly. "There's a track on the other side of these hills. And sand. The track is hard."
"Why not north?" demanded Stein.
"I've tried that way," I smiled grimly. "There's no way through."
"I'll keep the compass until we get on to our main line of direction," said Stein. "Get the boat's compass," he told Johann.
"We go south and then almost due east through a gap in the hills," I said again. "You'll just have to take that on trust."
Stein looked wary.
"I trust you only when you are away from the sea," he said. "The sea is your ally, somehow. I don't feel safe when you and the sea are near. You've won together too many times, Captain Peace. So we'll get away from the sea as soon as possible."
Anne and I fell in together with the other two behind. Our feet crunched on the gravelly shingle. The boat, well above the tidemark, left a trail in the sand culminating in the forlorn figure of the Kroo boy. The strange nocturnal prowlers of the Skeleton Coast would leave nothing but his bones by morning. The day after, his bones, too, would be gone. Etosha was screened from view out in the anchorage.
I took a line on the three-topped hill. We struck into the Kaokoveld.
XIII
"HALT!" ordered Stein.
The cup of thick white sand, protected from the perpetual south-westerly gale, looked a good spot for the night. It seemed like a gigantic child's sandpit about a quarter of a mile each way, nestling against the westerly side of the peak which I had used as my northerly bearing to bring Trout and Etosha into Curva dos Dunas. The trails of naras creeper would provide some sort of fuel for a fire. The hard-packed game track we had followed all day branched off to the right, skirting the cup, but I felt sure that the soft sand must have been used by the elephants as a giant dry-cleaning shop. There had been no sign of a living animal all day, but that didn't mean to say they weren't around. Passing a low group of shrub some miles back, our noses had been assailed by a tangy game smell, and the elephant droppings along the track did not appear to be more than a day old.
Stein and Johann had marched behind us all day. Stein still kept the Luger ready, but every mile we drew away from the beach, he relaxed. He still kept his distance, however.
I slid the heavy pack from my shoulders and dropped it on to the sand, flexing my stiff shoulder muscles. Anne sat down with a sigh, releasing her pack too.
"A good day's run, as they say at sea," grinned Stein. He must have been in training, for although his face was streaked with sweat, he looked pretty fresh. Far too fresh to try any consequences with. "How far do you think we've come?"
"About fifteen — maybe eighteen, miles," I replied wearily.
"Good," he said.
He took the map from his pack and studied it.
"You're sure we're not near Okatusu?" There was a note of deep suspicion in his voice, for what he didn't know was the point we had started from.
"It's only a geographical expression, anyway," I replied, feeling utterly weary and frustrated.
"We must be somewhere between Okatusu and Otjemembonde," he said.
I sidestepped his little trap.
"I'll tell you when we hit the Cunene," I said offhandedly. "Now go to hell."
He hesitated a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. He knew he was wasting his time. He strolled off to collect some naras bush for a fire. I noticed that he had tucked the Luger away in his waistband.
I sat in the comfortable sand. I couldn't say where my thoughts were. Anne jerked them back to the moment.
"Geoffrey," she said, "can you manage another couple of steps?"
The use of my Christian name made me roll on to my elbow and gaze at her in astonishment.
She looked at me levelly.
"From that hill we might see the sea."
"It's not far away," I agreed cautiously. "A few miles as the crow flies, maybe."
"Shall we have a look-see?" she persisted. "One never knows."
I nodded and rose stiffly. I called to Stein, for I didn't want a bullet following us. "We're going to have a look at that hill over there."
He grinned and waved his hand in a wide gesture. He's damn sure of himself, I thought. I knew myself that we couldn't get far. The only escape road was the way we had come. Even if I made a break for the beach, he'd find me there before the next tide revealed the causeway.
Anne said nothing. We trudged together across the deep sand. Before we reached the western edge we were blowing like two spouter whales. We lit a cigarette each to still the pounding of our hearts and climbed up the gnarled flank of the hill. We reached the top. There, about five or six miles away, was-the sea. There seemed to be a bank of cloud far out.
I waited. She fenced for her opening.
"So near and yet so far," she said, twisting down the corners of her mouth.
"Very far indeed," I said. She'd come to say something. She'd kept up magnificently all day, despite Stein's blow. There was a faint mark under her cheekbone. Let her make the opening herself. I pointed to the jagged fret on. the seaward side of the hill. "Those projections are like razors. All summer the south-westerly gale eats away at the solid rock, and then in winter the easterly wind comes scouring down from this side. It's quite remarkable, really — it's not a high altitude wind. It sticks close to the desert, picking up the warmth of the sand as it goes. I've felt the grit in my mouth miles out to sea. When it hits the cold sea — fog, nothing but fog. You saw for yourself."