Caleb stirred himself. ‘That’s the cataract caused by the collapsed bridge at Citematadi,’ he said to Robin. ‘Citematadi is just round that bend ahead — you see how the bank is higher and squarer coming up to the curve? That must be the embankment. And, yes,’ he answered Bonnie, ‘I smell burning too. I think we’d better have the light on.’
FIFTEEN
Punch
Anastasia brought Nellie round a bend to face due west — and sailed straight into the blinding impact of a blood-red sunset. ‘I can’t see!’ she shouted, throttling back. ‘Esan, is there anything up ahead? It’s as though someone just punched me in the face! I feel like my eyes are full of blood!’
Thank God, she thought, that she had placed Esan up in the very point of the bows where he could keep watch for hazards that might be invisible to her. Tree trunks floating waterlogged just beneath the surface, unsuspected mudbanks, dead bodies and so forth. And, most particularly as they came downstream, mats of floating water hyacinth that could all too easily pile up against the blunt cutwater and slow the vessel from dead slow to stop. Or, worse, get tangled round the propeller and cripple her altogether.
‘There’s something in the middle of the river,’ sang back Esan. ‘It’s big. An island I think. Go right.’
‘There’s a string of islands down near the river mouth, I remember,’ Anastasia called as she shook her head and tried to clear her streaming eyes. ‘When we’re past them we’re almost out of the river — then it’s not that far to the jetty at the new dock facilities they put in place of the old shanty town.’
‘How long will it take us to get past them? Come further right. Straighten up on that. Good.’
‘Six, maybe eight hours. It depends on tide and current. And whether we get caught up in that filthy water hyacinth stuff. God, I’d like to get my hands on whoever brought it on to the river.’ Anastasia slitted her eyes as they began to clear of tears and looked doggedly ahead. The channel which had been so wide and welcoming was closed in now by the tousle-headed islands in midstream and by the flats and shallows that spread out from them, causing the water hyacinth to clot the already narrowed waterway. Even with her flat bottom and almost negligible draft, Nellie had to stay in the deepest available channel. But that was by no means easy to settle on. Certainly she couldn’t just put the wheel hard over to starboard and hug the north shore. The trees and bushes overhanging the northern bank stretched out into treacherous mangroves once again — but saltwater ones this time, as the river became tidal and prone to flooding-back with saltwater from the bay. The old captain, Christophe, had warned her that this was the most difficult part of the river. He had rarely let her con Nellie through here. And never unless he was standing at her shoulder as anxious as a parent taking their child for their first driving practice in the family saloon. He had had some tide tables, too, now she came to think of it. If Ado or Esan could find them, maybe she could work out how to use them to Nellie’s advantage.
‘Ado, could you look for a book of tide tables?’ she asked. ‘Start in the drawers in here. It’ll be quite a small book with columns of figures showing dates and times…’ She stopped, almost ready to curse herself. There were probably charts and everything up in these drawers. Why hadn’t she thought to search through them earlier? But then she gave a shrug. Nellie and she had made it this far. Nothing they were likely to find aboard could have helped them do any better. Thanks to Esan, they were even well supplied with guns.
But Ado’s search revealed nothing. The whole of Nellie seemed to have been cleaned out — to such an extent, Anastasia at last decided, that the flip-flops and T-shirt she was wearing must have belonged to the new crew and not the old one.
While Ado searched and Esan stayed as watchkeeper in the bow, the sun set straight ahead, seeming to quench itself in the watery vista like a hot coal in a bucket. And night came. It was as sudden as that. Anastasia was struck by the speed of it yet again. Particularly as it robbed her of vital vision just when she needed it most. ‘Stay where you are, Esan’ she called.
‘But I can see nothing…’
‘We’ll fix that. Ado, can you climb up and switch the searchlight on. Then you can go on to the bow with Esan and help him keep watch.’
Ado scurried up aloft and the light came on in a flash. Then Anastasia was edified by the sight of the two teenagers sitting side by side, trying to keep their eyes peeled and their hands off each other. Young love, she thought. Isn’t it just wonderful? She rolled her eyes in amused despair, suddenly feeling very old indeed.
And just on that very thought, she saw the brightness behind the island trees. The kids probably didn’t see it because they were looking in the water dead ahead. It was a pale brightness, flickering because of the way the vegetation in front of it was moving. It might have seemed ethereal, almost ghostly to some. But not to Anastasia. She knew what it was at once. There was another boat on the river, somewhere just beyond the island. Probably heading upstream, judging by the light. But another boat. With a radio, no doubt — a way to get the news about the Army of Christ the Infant out even sooner than the people at Malebo could — if their fears about their cellphone and Internet access were true.
‘Esan,’ she called. ‘There’s a boat, over there, just beyond the island. See if you can attract their attention.’
‘HOI!’ bellowed Esan willingly enough.
‘It’s “Ahoy!”’ Anastasia advised from the pinnacle of the nautical wisdom Captain Christophe had given her. ‘“Ahoy the boat!”’
‘AHOY THE BOAT!’ bellowed Esan like a bull being led to the slaughter.
But there was no reply.
‘Keep trying. They’re still coming closer, I think. Ado, come here and see if you can swing the searchlight round. Maybe we can signal with that.’
But as Esan bellowed and Ado scurried up on to the wheelhouse roof, the trees on the island separating the two boats thickened and grew taller. The light from the southern channel came and went increasingly fitfully. The beam that Ado swung to port simply seemed to reflect back off wall after wall of foliage.
‘This simply isn’t getting through!’ shouted Esan at last, and he vanished back into the aft section behind the wheelhouse.
She had no idea what he was doing until the AK gave its familiar ear-splitting rattle seemingly just behind her head. The reflective leaves flashed yellow and red back along with the steady white of the searchlight as he emptied a full clip into the air. ‘Esan!’ Anastasia shouted. ‘Stop! They’ll think we’re shooting at them!’
‘Fine!’ Esan shouted back. ‘So maybe they’ll come looking for us! Then we’ll make contact after all!’
But nothing happened. The light beyond the islands went out. Ado killed their own light and the three of them strained to see any sign of pursuit. But there was nothing. After five minutes, Anastasia’s nerve broke. ‘Ado, switch the searchlight back on and point it straight ahead. Then I want the pair of you back in the bow keeping watch.’
The incident did not quite have no effect or aftermath. It galvanized Anastasia into pushing the throttle forward and taking the next section of the river a good deal faster than she would otherwise have done. And she got Ado and Esan to take turns to stand up on the wheelhouse roof for five minutes every half hour or so, swinging the bright beam left and right. So she clearly saw one of the last landmarks on the northern shore — the burned-out ruin of a casino with the mouldering wreckage of an old sternwheeler paddle boat beached in front of it. This was the point at which the single-track road from Malebo turned itself into a multi-lane highway, she remembered. It was also, more famously, the point from which General Julius Chaka had launched the last stage of his attack on Granville Harbour. A popular uprising led by T80 main battle tanks that had toppled his opponent Liye Banda and established Celine’s father as president. Was there any way at all that she could get to President Chaka with news about the invasion of his country and the wounding of his daughter?