Santos exactly what she thought of the kind of servitude in which he held Maria, and she had no wish to make enemies here. So she merely smiled and walked to the edge of the landing, looking down in to the amazingly clear waters of the Velhijo. She could see the sandy bottom lying beneath the water, the bleached rocks and curious dark red tinging of the water in places which from a distance made it appear almost black. She realised it was the mineral deposits in the river, swept down by the force of the elements, and it was mostly iron which gave it its curious colour. On the opposite bank, what had appeared to be a log moved, and she saw to her horror that it was one of the grey alligators, called caymans, which she had seen from time to time on the river-bank on her journey to Los Hermanos. Its narrow beady eyes and raised nostrils which enabled it to swim almost completely submerged sent a shiver of apprehension up her spine and she took an involuntary step backward. What would they do if they encountered something like that as they tramped past the rapids? She had little confidence in Vasco’s protection.
But by the time the boat was loaded with sleeping bags and extra blankets, cans of water and supplies, and two rifles had been added to the pile of equipment in the bottom of the boat, she felt a little more relaxed. The two Indians who were to accompany them seemed cheerful enough, although Alexandra had to avert her eyes from their apparent disregard for clothing of any sort. They sat together in the prow of the boat, chewing the tobacco which had blackened their teeth, and talking in some language of their own. She tried not to think about the fact that apart from Vasco’s, theirs were to be the only other human faces she was likely to see for two whole days. She had too much imagination, she decided.
Santos waved them off. He had shown little surprise at her adventurous journey to see her father, and Alexandra could only assume that like the Indians he considered all white people slightly eccentric. And, too, he had displayed little interest in her destination, and she hoped this was not because he never expected her to reach it.
A bend in the river hid the trading post from view and the boat’s small motor chugged steadily upstream. There was a canvas canopy rigged at the rear end of the craft and Alexandra sat beneath this, glad of the respite from the glare of the sun which was just beginning to make the heat unbearable. In fact, it was a little better on the river. There was a slight breeze as the boat moved through the water, and Alexandra fanned herself with her sunglasses.
Well, she thought, trying to be philosophical, she was at least moving again, and who knows, maybe in less than forty-eight hours she would see her father again. It seemed an unreal supposition.
They didn’t stop at lunch-time, but Vasco chewed a hunk of the mandioca bread and drank some beer while Alexandra opened a tin of Coke and peeled two bananas. The fresh fruit was infinitely more delicious than any she had tasted in England, and if the Coke was a little warm, it couldn’t be helped. The Indians had nothing to eat, but grabbed the tins of beer Vasco threw to them with eager fingers, tearing open the tops and drinking greedily, the liquid dripping out of the corners of their mouths in their haste. Alexandra tried not to watch them, aware that her interest might be misconstrued, but their behaviour both repelled and fascinated her.
She fell asleep after lunch. She had not intended to do so, but she slept so fitfully at night that it was almost impossible to stay awake during the heat of the day. She was awakened by the sound of an aircraft overhead, but by the time she had pulled herself together it had disappeared. At least the intense heat had lessened somewhat, and she had been long enough in the river-basin to know that at night it could be bitterly cold. She yawned and stretched her legs, turning up the trouser cuffs to allow the air to get at her bare legs, and then rolled them down again at the awareness of having an audience.
Late in the afternoon, Vasco turned off the boat’s engine and secured the craft to the jutting stump of a long dead tree by the means of a thick rope. ‘We stay,’ he announced, mainly for Alexandra’s benefit. ‘Go on—amanha.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Alexandra licked her dry lips. ‘Couldn’t we go a little further today?’
Vasco shook his head. ‘Rapidos, senhorita. Nao caminho!’
Alexandra wished she had a Portuguese phrase book. She had the distinct suspicion that Vasco knew more English than he let on. It made it simpler for him if she couldn’t argue with him.
Now she was forced to acquiesce, and watched with astonishment as the two Indians dived over the side to swim and play in the water. Alexandra was almost sure there were piranhas in the river and she waited in horror for something terrible to happen. But nothing did. The two Indians swam to the river-bank, climbed ashore, and soon began gathering twigs to make a fire.
Dragging her attention from them, Alexandra became aware that Vasco was rigging up a kind of fishing line. He dangled it over the side, and before too long he caught an enormous fish, hauling it in and killing it mercilessly.
‘Tucunare!’ observed Vasco, with evident satisfaction. ‘You like?’
Alexandra shook her head vigorously. ‘No, thank you,’ she declined politely. A tin of beans or corned beef might be less appetising, but definitely safer. Even so, when Vasco started a fire in a kind of brazier and barbecued the fish he had caught, the smell was irresistible. It was almost dark by this time, and the towering trees around them seemed to be pressing in on them. Alexandra felt very much alone, and when Vasco again proffered some of the fish she found herself accepting.
It was absolutely delicious, and Alexandra ate ravenously, enjoying it more than anything she had had since leaving Manaus eight days ago. Licking her fingers afterwards, she looked towards the river-bank and saw the glow of the fire the Indians had lighted. Seemingly they did not find the forest frightening, and were equally capable of providing for themselves when it came to food.
Vasco doused the fire and lighted a lamp. Then he sat cross-legged in the bottom of the boat, poking his teeth with a sliver of wood. Alexandra wished he would stare at something else instead of her all the time, but as he had been kind enough to provide her with a delicious supper perhaps she ought to try and behave naturally.
‘Do—er—do you have any children, Vasco?’ she ventured tentatively.
The wizened face grimaced. ‘Filhos? Nao, senhorita.’ He pointed to his face. ‘Me? Me—repugnante! Who like Vasco?’
Alexandra felt a surge of compassion. ‘Why—why, that’s nonsense, Vasco. I—I’m sure there are lots—of girls who would be—be proud to marry you.’
Vasco’s eyes narrowed to slits. ‘You theenk so?’ he asked, shuffling a little nearer to her.
Alexandra quelled the urge to shift her legs from out of his reach. ‘I—I’m sure of it.’
‘And you, senhorita? You have muitos namorados, sim?’
Alexandra understood what this meant. ‘I—I have boy-friends, yes,’ she admitted.
‘Naturalmente, the senhorita esta muita formosa!’
Alexandra gave what she hoped was a deprecatory smile and forced a glance towards the camp-fire glowing among the trees on the bank. ‘The—the—er—Indians seem quite at home in the forest, don’t they?’ she said hurriedly.
‘Is their home,’ replied Vasco, without interest. ‘Tell me, senhorita, tell me about your boy-friends, sim? Do they—touch you? Do they—make love to you?’
Alexandra was revolted by the perversion of his curiosity. Pressing her lips together, she said coldly: ‘Where are you going to sleep, senhor?’
