"Dear Heaven," I groaned, for I knew what Claudius could do in the way of "decoration" when he put his mind to it.[35]
"So Mama's dinner was ruined, and she says she is very sorry, but could you move him. She feels that he is not happy in the garden, and that anyway, he's not a very simpatico[36] animal."
'Your mother is, I presume, upstairs having a headache?"
"I think it's a bit more than a headache," said Marie judiciously.
"O.K.," I sighed, "leave it to me. I'll think of something."
This, however, appeared to be the last of a series of bedevilments we had suffered, for suddenly everything seemed to go right. The Customs released my equipment, and, more important still, I suddenly found not only a home for Claudius, but the rest of the animals as welclass="underline" a small house on the outskirts of Buenos Aires had been lent to us to keep our collection in as a temporary measure.
So, with our problems solved, at least for the moment, we got out the maps and planned our route to the south, to the Patagonian coastline where the fur seals[37] and elephant seals[38] gambolled in the icy waters.
At first sight everything seemed to be quite straightforward. Marie had managed to obtain leave from her job, and was to come with us to act as interpreter. Our route was planned with the minute detail that only people who have never been to an area indulge in. The equipment was checked and double-checked, and carefully packed. After all the weeks of frustration and boredom in Buenos Aires we began to feel that at last we were on our way. Then, at our last council of war (in the little cafe on the corner), Marie produced an argument that she had obviously been brooding upon for some considerable time.
"I think it would be a good idea if we take someone who knows the roads, Gerry," she said, engulfing what appeared to be a large loaf of bread stuffed with an exceptionally giant ox's tongue, a concoction that passed for a sandwich in Argentina.
"Whatever for?" I asked. "We've got maps, haven't we?"
"Yes, but you have never driven on those Patagonian roads, and they are quite different from anywhere else in the world, you know."
"How, different?" I inquired.
"Worse," said Marie, who did not believe in wasting words.
"I'm inclined to agree," said Jacquie. "We've heard the most awful reports of those roads from everyone."
"Darling, you know as well as I do that you always hear those sort of reports about roads, or mosquitoes, or savage tribes, wherever you go in the world, and they are generally a lot of nonsense."
"Anyway, I think Marie's suggestion is a good one. If we could get someone who knows the roads to drive us down, then you'd know what to expect on the way back."
"But there is no one," I said irritably, "Rafael is in college, Carlos is up in the North, Brian is studying…"
"There is Dicky," said Marie.
I stared at her.
"Who is Dicky?" I asked at length.
"A friend of mine," she said carelessly, "he is a very good driver, he knows Patagonia, and he is a very nice person. He is quite used to going on hunting trips, so he does not mind suffering."
"By 'suffering' do you mean roughing it, or are you insinuating that our company might be offensive to his delicate nature?"
"Oh, stop being facetious," said Jacquie. "Would this chap come with us, Marie?"
"Oh, yes," she said. "He said he would like it very much."
"Good," said Jacquie, "when can he come and see us?"
"Well, I told him to meet us here in about ten minutes' time," said Marie. "I thought Gerry would want to see him in case he did not like him."
I gazed at them all speechlessly.
"I think that's a very good idea, don't you?" asked Jacquie.
"Are you asking my opinion?" I inquired. "I thought you had settled it all between you."
"I am sure you will like Dicky…" began Marie, and at that moment Dicky arrived.
At first glance I decided that I did not like Dicky at all. He did not look to me the sort of person who had ever suffered, or, indeed, was capable of suffering. He was exquisitely dressed, too exquisitely dressed. He had a round, plump face, with boot-button eyes, a rather frail-looking moustache like a brown moth decorated his upper lip, and his dark hair was plastered down to his head with such care that it looked as if it had been painted on to his scalp.
"This is Dicky de Sola," said Marie, in some trepidation.
Dicky smiled at me, a smile that transformed his whole face.
"Marie have told you?" he said, dusting his chair fastidiously with his handkerchief before sitting down at the table, "I am delight to go to Patagonia, whom I love."
I began to warm to him.[39]
"If I am no useful, I will not come, but I can advise if you will allow, for I know the roads. You have a map? Ah, good, now let me explanation to you."
Together we pored over the map, and within half an hour Dicky had won me over[40] completely. Not only did he have an intimate knowledge of the country we were to pass through, but his own brand of English, his charm and infectious humour had decided me.[41]
"Well," I said, as we folded the maps away, "if you can really spare the time, we'd like you to come very much."
"Overwhelmingly," said Dicky, holding out his hand.
And on this rather cryptic utterance the bargain was sealed.
Chapter One
THE WHISPERING LAND
The plains of Patagonia are boundless, for they are scarcely passable, and hence unknown; they bear the stamp of having lasted, as they are now, for ages, and there appears no limit to their duration through future time.
We set off for the south in the pearly grey dawn light of what promised to be a perfect day. The streets were empty and echoing, and the dew-drenched parks and squares had their edges frothed with great piles of fallen blooms from the palo borracho and jacaranda trees, heaps of glittering flowers in blue, yellow and pink.
On the outskirts of the city we rounded a corner and came upon the first sign of life we had seen since we had started, a covey[43] of dustmen indulging in their early morning ballet. This was such an extraordinary sight that we drove slowly behind them for some way in order to watch. The great dustcart rumbled down the centre of the road at a steady five miles an hour, and standing in the back, up to his knees in rubbish, stood the emptier. Four other men loped alongside the cart like wolves, darting off suddenly into dark doorways to reappear with, dustbins full of trash balanced on their shoulders. They would run up alongside the cart and throw the dustbin effortlessly into the air, and the man on the cart would catch it and empty it and throw it back, all in one fluid movement. The timing of this was superb, for as the empty dustbin was hurtling downwards a full one would be sailing up. They would pass in mid-air, and the full bin would be caught and emptied. Sometimes there would be four dustbins in the air at once. The whole action was performed in silence and with incredible speed.
Soon we left the edge of the city, just stirring to wakefulness, and sped out into the open countryside, golden in the rising sun. The early morning air was chilly, and Dicky had dressed for the occasion. He was wearing a long tweed overcoat and white gloves, and his dark, bland eyes and neat, butterfly-shaped moustache peered out from under a ridiculous deer-stalker hat[44] which he wore, he explained to me, in order to "keep the ears heated". Sophie and Marie crouched in strange prenatal postures[45] in the back of the Land-Rover, on top of our mountainous pile of equipment, most of which, they insisted, had been packed in boxes with knife-like edges. Jacquie and I sat next to Dicky in the front seat, a map spread out across our laps, our heads nodding, as we endeavoured to work out our route. Some of the places we had to pass through were delightfuclass="underline" Chascomus, Dolores, Necochea, Tres Arroyos,[46] and similar delicious names that slid enticingly off the tongue. At one point we passed through two villages, within a few miles of each other, one called "The Dead Christian" and the other "The Rich Indian". Marie's explanation of this strange nomenclature was that the Indian was rich because he killed the Christian, and had stolen all his money, but attractive though this story was, I felt it could not be the right one.
35
to put one's mind to something – to direct one's thoughts towards it, to set one's mind on doing something
37
fur seal – a warm-blooded, fish-eating animal, found chiefly in cold regions; fur seal is hunted for its valuable fur.
38
elephant seal – a species of seal, so called on account of the shape of the male's nose which resembles an elephant's trunk, and also on account of its elephantine size (the male measures as much as 5.5 m in length and weighs up to 3.5 tons); now almost entirely destroyed.
40
to win somebody over – to make somebody take a liking to you, feel friendly towards you
42
Darwin, Charles Robert (1809-1882) – the great English naturalist, founder of the theory of evolution. In 1831-36 he made a voyage round the world on board the
H.M.S. – His (Her) Majesty's Ship, a ship of the British navy
43
covey –
44
deer-stalker hat