"It might be," I responded. "If the diamond pipes of Alexander Bay continue up here, there's no reason why you should not become a sort of female Dr. 'Williamson."
"I have no intention of sublimating myself into diamonds," she smiled back. "I always felt sorry for Williamson — every golddigger in the world after his money."
"It's quite a simple explanation, although it sounds a paradox," I said. "You see, the Benguela current conies straight here off the ice. The Skeleton Coast is tropical, with a desert thrown in. One day, when I was close inshore, I saw a lion tackling some seals on the beach north of Cape Cross. Can you imagine — a tropical hunter like a lion living off an Antarctic creature like a seal?"
"Cape Cross," she frowned. "Why Cape Cross?"
"One of the earliest Portuguese navigators — I think it was Diego Cao — made his landfall there, way back before Diaz. He took one look at the Skeleton Coast and said to himself, if this is Africa, I'm on my way home. So he beat it back to Prince Henry the Navigator without going for the Cape."
"Is it the same sort of climatic mix-up which made us see two suns?"
"Yes. If we'd been lucky we might have seen some flamingo this evening too. You get huge flocks of them at sunset. Just think, a red sun, lemon sea, flamingo sky."
"You sound like something in Vogue," she replied. "Think what a seller it would be — Skeleton Coast black, with a flamingo stole."
We laughed and she threw down the butt of the cigarette.
"Now you've really made me feel uncivilised," she exclaimed. "My face must look like one of those jagged rocks there, from the feel of it. Come on now, food. No more lovely fairy tales until tomorrow."
She took my hand as we slithered down to the sand basin; it was hot and sticky and I could feel the tiny grains of sand between her fingers. Where the sweat had soaked through her sweater there was a line against the general dustiness of her breasts, emphasising their curve. The cheekbones were flushed — from the filing of the windblown sand, I thought. We trudged back to camp.
The grey monotony of the sand changed to white, white so dazzling that when I looked through my binoculars, my eyes crimped up under the magnification. I was leading the four of us next afternoon, Anne behind me, silent, lost in her thoughts, Stein next and Johann bringing up the rear. Occasionally he cursed softly in German at the weight and heat of the Remington. Stein had pocketed the Luger now; I was safe inside the sand prison.
"What is it?" said Stein coming up to me.
I gestured towards the whiteness.
"See that extra whiteness of the sand?" I said, moistening my lips and feeling the grate of the sand on my teeth.
"That's the river."
"Ah!" he exclaimed with deep satisfaction.
"Give me your glasses, Captain."
He took them and gazed for a long time at the whiteness about five miles away, below the level of where we were standing. The unbroken, savage ridge of hills and cliffs on our left as we slogged all day in the burning heat never repented. At the closest we must have been five miles from the sea, and at the farthest eight. We followed the hard track, sweating blindly. Once in the far distance ahead we saw an elephant — or thought we saw one — but otherwise the remorseless countenance of the Skeleton Coast remained unrelaxed.
"I don't see water," said Stein.
"And you're equally unlikely to," I said. "The Cunene is dry at this time anyway. It's probably dry all the year. About once in five years it comes down in full spate and it's twice the width of the Orange."
"How far inland are we hitting it?" asked Stein.
"About ten miles from the mouth, I reckon," I said.:' There's a cataract a few miles above. I've not seen it, though. I don't know if we can get by. But for some unknown reason, the course of the river widens below the cataract — it looks just like the advertisements you see for colonic irrigation."
Stein ignored the sally.
"Why shouldn't we get past the cataract?" he asked. "What do you know that you are keeping up your sleeve, Captain Peace?"
"Oh, for God's sake!" I said. "I've simply never been there, that's all! I know the river bed is there because I've walked across it. Every bit of three miles wide, but it's hard and much easier going than this. All I know is that if it had been as easy to get into the Skeleton Coast by using the dry bed of the Cunene as a track, lots of people would have tried it already. I don't know why they haven't."
"We'll find out," he replied tersely. "Nothing is going to stop me now."
I looked at the cruel face, sweat-stained. I believed him. I took the lead again. We marched towards the river.
I thought at first they were elephant or buffalo, but they were trees. Glorious, welcome shade after the lidless blaze of the past two days. I am a sailor and I suppose one's eyes get used to the endless monotony of the sea, but desert is different. The sand fretted at the eyes. It seeped into every crack, it made its presence known at every footstep. Anne had plastered her face with cream and she looked like an Everest climber in reverse. She was limping a little, but still game.
No word had been spoken since we first sighted the river. Now, although the cataract was not in sight, we were at the wide sweep of sand, still unbearably bright, which is the Cunene. There was no sign of water. In a shallow bay of sand were half a dozen huge trees whose roots, on the edge of the sand, were eroded like primeval things. By some sort of tacit consent, Anne and I flopped down under one and Stein and Johann under another, about thirty yards away. They were near enough to guard us, but far enough away not to be able to hear what was being said.
Anne stretched herself back and faced away from the sun.
"I couldn't care less whether there are half a dozen suns this evening," she exclaimed wearily. "You'll have to rustle up real magic to make me interested in anything at this moment."
"Gin." I said, tasting the metallic bite of the mica dust on my palate. "Gin. And lime. And lots of ice."
"The penalty for that sort of talk on this sort of day is to be made to take off my shoes," she grinned. "If they come off, I'll never get them on again."
Stein strolled over. "Let's get some wood together for a fire, Captain. This is game country all right. I think we should dig for water, too."
It was better now than later, I decided. I got uncertainly to my feet. Stein was almost friendly as we broke off dry branches and gathered them in a heap.
"We'll start a little later tomorrow morning — a late breakfast won't do any of us any harm," he said amiably. "Miss Nielsen has kept up very well. Now that we're at the river, the going should be easier."
I kept silent.
"You disagree, Captain?" he said quickly.
"I don't know," I replied. "I can only repeat what I said earlier, that if this had been the easy way in, someone would have done it long since."
"Baynes did," he retorted.
"He came in from the other side," I said. "North of Ohopoho there's Swartbooisdrift, but that's a couple of hundred miles upriver from here. There's a hell of a lot can happen in even twenty miles of Skeleton Coast, let alone a hundred."
"If it weren't so late, I would reconnoitre the cataract now," he said impatiently. "But we've still got to dig for water tonight."
We gathered up the wood and threw it down in a large pile between the two trees. Johann did not stir. He looked at me malevolently.
"That man will kill you without any pretext at all," said Stein conversationally, as if my death were the subject of a confidential little chat. "Remember that, if you have any ideas about me, Captain Peace. You wrecked his whole life. It's really a pity you didn't do the job properly."
I was too tired to argue.
"Look," I said, pointing out game tracks in the sand. "Those may lead us to something."
We followed the hoofmarks until they reached the far side of the sand bed. There were deep scratches in the sand, but originally the hole must have been deeper, for fresh sand had blown in. We dug with small folding shovels which had obviously come off the back of a jeep. At about four feet the sand grew damp. By dint of quick shovelling so that the sand did not run back in again, we found a shallow seepage. It seemed drinkable. We filled the canteens, although Stein carried them.