argue right now. Just do as I say.’
Declan turned away with the air of one accustomed to command and what was more, accustomed to being obeyed. Alexandra found herself fumbling for her boots and pushing her feet into them. When they were fastened she stood up and Declan came back to her shouldering a load of blankets and carrying a powerful torch.
‘Come along,’ he said, indicating that she should follow him and with a reluctant look at her belongings strewn in the bottom of the boat she obeyed.
The two Indians who were accompanying him were apparently remaining in the boat and Alexandra forced herself into a fatalistic frame of mind. Whatever happened now, she was powerless to prevent it.
Declan leapt on to the marshy river-bank and lent a hand as she jumped across the lapping shallows to land beside him. Her boots sank into the soggy ground and squelched as Declan switched on the torch and went ahead, urging her to follow him.
There was a path worn through the jungle at this point and it was surprisingly easy walking. Of course, all around them were the poisonous liana creepers that fought their way upward in a strangling spiral round the trunks of trees, and there might be any number of minor monsters underfoot, but Alexandra refused to think of them. The uncanny silence created an illusion of complete isolation, and the thought crossed her mind that these forests had existed here longer than man had peopled the earth. It was a shattering realisation.
An unearthly roar that echoed and re-echoed around them caused Alexandra to gasp and stumble, but she managed to right herself with resorting to clutching at her escort. All the same, she glanced back rather fearfully over her shoulder, half expecting to find a jaguar with dripping jaws panting malevolently behind her, but then her head jerked forward again as her companion said calmly:
‘Don’t be alarmed. It’s miles away. But sound carries in the forest.’
Alexandra nodded, not trusting herself to say anything and then walked into him without realising he had stopped and was pointing to a light a few yards away.
‘Our destination,’ he observed dryly, propelling her away from him again. ‘It belongs to a friend of mine and his family.’
Alexandra’s eyes widened. ‘You mean—people actually live out here?’
‘Why not?’ His voice had cooled perceptibly.
‘But—I mean—how can they?’ She spread her hands in an encompassing movement.
He looked down at her and even in the faint light from the torch she could sense his displeasure. ‘To live means different things to different people, Miss Tempest. I realise that in your society material things are the criterion by which success in life is judged, but here we have a more basic appreciation of happiness.’
Alexandra coloured and was glad he could not see it. She wanted to retaliate, to tell him that he knew nothing about the kind of society she moved in. How could he, living here in this remote part of the world, the rivers his only link with civilisation? But to stand arguing with him in the middle of the jungle with the darkness of night pressing all around them seemed the height of absurdity, so she remained silent.
He walked away towards the hut from which the light was coming and Alexandra stumbled after him. She was beginning to feel the coldness that came from too much exposure to the damp night air and the shivering that enveloped her was as much to do with that as nervousness. Even so, she was nervous, although her blind panic had left her.
A man emerged from the hut as they approached, carrying a lamp. Alexandra saw to her relief that he was at least wearing a pair of torn, but adequately covering, shorts, although his appearance was not encouraging. His brown Indian features were battered and scarred, and his teeth were blackened by the usual chewing of tobacco root. Behind him clustered his wife and a group of children of varying ages from two to teenage. He greeted Declan O’Rourke as warmly as Vasco had done, but their conversation was conducted in one of the Indian dialects Alexandra had heard since coming to Los Hermanos.
His wife and the children were more interested in Alexandra. Clearly they had seen Declan O’Rourke before, but a white girl was a different matter. Alexandra, shivering in her shirt and jeans, wondered however they managed to keep warm in such a minimum amount of clothing.
They were invited inside. The hut was larger than she had at first imagined, but it soon became apparent that they were all expected to share the same sleeping area. In the light of the lamp, Declan O’Rourke’s eyes challenged her to find some fault with this arrangement, and rather than create any unpleasantness Alexandra made no demur. She supposed she ought to feel grateful that she was at least warm again, even though the charcoal fire burning in one corner of the hut filled the air with smoke before escaping out of a hole in the thatched roof, but it was infinitely better than sleeping in the open boat as she had expected to do.
Declan O’Rourke introduced her to their host and his wife, who, although they could not speak her language, made her welcome by smiles and gestures. Their names Alexandra knew she would never remember, but their children, amazingly, had English names, and Declan explained in an undertone that a missionary in the area had converted them to Christianity. In consequence, all the younger children had names taken straight out of the Bible.
The clear spirit which Santos had offered her that first night at Los Hermanos was proffered and when she tried to refuse Declan put the mud-baked utensil into her hands.
‘Drink!’ he commanded harshly, and she stared at him mutinously.
‘I don’t like it,’ she protested, but his eyes were without sympathy.
‘Learn to do so,’ he said, swallowing the liquid he had been given with evident relish. ‘Or would you like me to force it down your throat?’
Alexandra’s lips parted. ‘Look, I realise this is an example of their hospitality——’
‘Just drink it,’ said Declan, with resignation, his eyes hard and unyielding, and with a helpless shrug of her shoulders she raised the cup to her lips.
In fact it wasn’t half as bad as she had anticipated. It burned her throat, but it did create a warm glow inside her which banished a little of her tension. Declan O’Rourke spoke to their host while they drank and then after the dishes were cleared away it seemed expected that they should now retire.
The Indian and his family had the usual kind of hammocks to sleep in, and already the children were curling up together with a complete disregard as to age and sex. Declan politely refused the use of the Indian’s hammock and spread a ground-sheet over the hard floor, covering it with a blanket. Then he indicated to Alexandra that she should sit down on it.
After a moment’s hesitation, Alexandra did as she was silently bidden, and watched in amazement when he came down beside her, spreading the other blankets over their legs.
‘Now wait a minute …’ she began, but he interrupted her impatiently.
‘This is no time for maidenly modesty, Miss Tempest. In the jungle one abides by the law of survival. What is it they say about Rome and the Romans? Right now, all I’m interested in is getting you safely to Paradiablo, for your father’s sake.’
It was the first time he had voluntarily made any mention of their eventual destination, and her spirits rose. But the lamp was extinguished at that moment and only total darkness remained, which disconcerted her
