"There is, there is," said the Captain, shuffling the charts like a conjuror and producing another one from the pile. "Now, here, you see, at this spot… it's about four hours' drive from Deseado… all along this bay here."
"That's wonderful," I said enthusiastically, "just the right distance."
"There is only one thing that worries me," said the Captain, turning troubled blue eyes on to me. "Are there enough birds there for what you want… for your photography?"
"Well," I said doubtfully, "I want a fair number. How many are there in this colony?"
"At a rough estimate I should say a million," said Captain Giri. "Will that be enough?"
I gaped at him. The man was not joking. He was seriously concerned that a million penguins might prove to be too meagre a quantity for my purpose.
"I think I can make out with a million penguins,"[72] I said. "I should be able to find one or two photogenic ones among that lot. Tell me, are they all together, or scattered about?"
"Well, there are about half or three-quarters concentrated here" he said, stabbing at the chart. "And the rest are distributed all along the bay here"
"Well, that seems perfect to me. Now what about somewhere to camp?"
"Ah!" said Captain Giri. "That is the difficulty. Now just here is the estancia of a friend of mine, Señor Huichi. He is not on the estancia at the moment. But if we went to see him he might let you stay there. It is, you see, about two kilometres from the main colony, so it would be a good place for you to stay."
"That would be wonderful," I said enthusiastically. "When could we see Señor Huichi?"
The Captain consulted his watch and made a calculation.
"We can go and see him now, if you would like," he said.
"Right!" I said, finishing my drink. "Let's go."
Huichi's house was on the outskirts of Deseado, and Huichi himself, when Captain Giri introduced us, was a man I took an instant liking to. Short, squat, with a weather-browned face, he had very dark hair, heavy black eyebrows and moustache, and dark brown eyes that were kind and humorous, with crow's feet[73] at the corners. In his movements and his speech he had an air of quiet, unruffled confidence about him that was very reassuring. He stood silently while Giri explained our mission, occasionally glancing at me, as if summing me up.[74] Then he asked a couple of questions, and, finally, to my infinite relief, he held out his hand to me and smiled broadly.
"Señor Huichi has agreed that you shall use his estancia" said Giri, "and he is going to accompany you himself, so as to show you the best places for penguins."
"That is very kind of Señor Huichi… we are most grateful," I said. "Could we leave tomorrow afternoon, after I have seen my friend off on the plane?"
"Si, si, como no?"[75] said Huichi when this had been translated to him. So we arranged to meet him on the morrow, after an early lunch, when we had seen Dicky off on the plane that was to take him to Buenos Aires.
So, that evening we sat in the depressing bar of our hotel, sipping our drinks and contemplating the forlorn[76] fact that the next day Dicky would be leaving us. He had been a charming and amusing companion, who had put up with discomfort without complaint, and had enlivened our flagging spirits throughout the trip with jokes, fantastically phrased remarks, and lilting[77] Argentine songs. We were going to miss him, and he was equally depressed at the thought of leaving us just when the trip was starting to get interesting. In a daring fit of joie de vivre[78] the hotel proprietor had switched on a small radio, strategically placed on a shelf between two bottles of brandy. This now blared out a prolonged and mournful tango of the more cacophonous[79] sort. We listened to it in silence until the last despairing howls had died away.
"What is the translation of that jolly little piece?" I asked Marie.
"It is a man who has discovered that his wife has T. B.,"[80] she explained. "He has lost his job and his children are starving. His wife is dying. He is very sad, and he asks the meaning of life."
The radio launched itself into another wailing air that sounded almost identical with the first. When it had ended I raised my eyebrows inquiringly at Marie.
"That is a man who has just discovered that his wife is unfaithful," she translated moodily. "He has stabbed her. Now he is to be hung, and his children will be without mother or father. He is very sad and he asks the meaning of life."
A third refrain rent the air. I looked at Marie. She listened attentively for a moment, then shrugged.
"The same," she said tersely.
We got up in a body[81] and went to bed.
Early the next morning Marie and I drove Dicky out to the airstrip, while Sophie and Jacquie went round the three shops in Deseado to buy necessary supplies for our trip out to Huichi's estancia. The airstrip consisted of a more or less level strip of ground on the outskirts of the town, dominated by a moth-eaten-looking[82] hangar, whose loose boards flapped and creaked in the wind. The only living things were three ponies, grazing forlornly. Twenty minutes after the plane had been due in there was still no sign of her,[83] and we began to think that Dicky would have to stay with us after all. Then along the dusty road from the town came bustling a small van. It stopped by the hangar, and from inside appeared two very official-looking men in long khaki coats. They examined the wind-sock[84] with a fine air of concentration, stared up into the sky, and consulted each other with frowning faces. Then they looked at their watches and paced up and down.
"They must he mechanics," said Dicky. "They certainly look very official," I admitted.
"Hey! Listen!" said Dicky, as a faint drone made itself heard, "She is arrive."
The plane came into view as a minute speck on the horizon that rapidly grew bigger and bigger. The two men in khaki coats now came into their own.[85] With shrill cries they ran out on to the airstrip and proceeded to drive away the three ponies, who, up till then, had been grazing placidly in the centre of what now turned out to be the runway. There was one exciting moment just as the plane touched down, when we thought that one of the ponies was going to break back, but one of the khaki-clad men launched himself forward and grabbed it by the mane at the last minute. The plane bumped and shuddered to a halt,[86] and the two men left their equine charges[87] and produced, from the depths of the hangar, a flimsy ladder on wheels which they set against the side of the plane. Apparently Dicky was the only passenger to be picked up in Deseado.
Dicky wrung my hand.
"Gerry," he said, "you will do for me one favour, yes?"
"Of course, Dicky," I said, "anything at all."
"See that there is no bloody bastard horses in the way when we go up, eh?" he said earnestly, and then strode off to the plane, the flaps of his deer-stalker flopping to and fro in the wind.
The plane roared off, the ponies shambled back on to the runway, and we turned the blunt snout of the Land-Rover back towards the town.
We picked up Huichi at a little after twelve, and he took over the wheel of the Land-Rover. I was heartily glad of this, for we had only travelled a couple of miles from Deseado when we branched off the road on to something so vague that it could hardly be dignified with the term of track. Occasionally this would disappear altogether, and, if left to myself, I would have been utterly lost, but Huichi would aim the Land-Rover at what appeared to be an impenetrable thicket of thorn bushes, and we would tear through it, the thorns screaming along the sides of the vehicle like so many banshees,[88] and there, on the further side, the faint wisp of track would start again. At other points the track turned into what appeared to be the three-feet-deep bed of an extinct river, exactly the same width as the Land-Rover, so we were driving cautiously along with two wheels on one bank – as it were – and two wheels on the other. Any slight miscalculation here and the vehicle could have fallen into the trough and become hopelessly stuck.
83
When speaking of airplanes, the English sometimes use the pronoun
84
wind-sock – a canvas cylinder or cone flying from a masthead to show the direction of wind
86
the plane bumped and shuddered to a halt – bumping and shuddering, the plane came to a halt (cf. note to p. 7)
87
their equine charges – the ponies in their charge, the ponies they had been holding back (Durrell is fond of Latin adjectives of this type as opposed to the simple-sounding English nouns: compare
88
banshee – according to Irish and Scotch beliefs, a spirit whose wail gives warning of death in a house