Dangerous Waters (9 page)

For after they had left the village and passed through a passage between mahogany trees, the swamps were there again, only this time they were shallow enough for use as padi fields. Men and women worked, ankle deep in water, lifting weeds which floated sluggishly away. They stood up and viewed the passing canoe, stared because the occupants were white. Pete called greetings and was answered with eager courtesy. Terry had read about the gentle Malays and their polite good humor, but she hadn
’
t imagined the qualities would be so rooted in a whole race. Those youths who had wrecked the train at Vinan must have been utterly terrified of cholera sweeping through the villages, as had happened thirty years ago; they hadn
’
t set about the destruction viciously, but merely made train and rails unserviceable for many months, till the danger which threatened from outside was past. To think that a matter of a few days
’
difference in her time schedule would have got her through on the train from Vinan to Penghu! She would have travelled by an earlier steamer, there would have been no negligent stranger strolling the deck. She wouldn
’
t have met Pete Sternham.

With mixed feelings, she glanced at him from under the wide brim of the straw hat. Through the sun-glasses he appeared to be burned even darker than yesterday, his bones were more angular, his dark eyes keener and more deep-set. Since leaving Vinan he had changed from a dependable but nonchalant type into a rather formidable individual who nevertheless performed his duty down to the last careful fold of the plastic cover over their luggage.

Now the swamps and the rice fields were behind them, the river narrowed alarmingly, till there was scarcely room to use the paddles. They were shut in by trees, had to push through vines which hung from locked branches and drifted their green tips over the fast-running water. The canoe hit a rock and slewed, Pete caught at branches and steadied the craft, hung on.

“
Can I help?
”
she asked quickly.

“
I
’
ll have to turn the boat so that I can see where I
’
m going. If you can turn round in your seat and use one of those bamboos at the bottom of the boat, you
’
ll be able to push the vines aside. Don
’
t be hasty about it—I
’
ll paddle slowly. Keep a sharp look out for anything stony or woody. We mustn
’
t lose the canoe.
”

It was the first time she had been able to help him on the river. As soon as he had reversed the canoe, she turned her body, ignored the sudden drag at the tender skin of her waist, and shoved the bamboo stick forward. She took off the hat and glasses, shook back hair which felt like soggy string and concentrated on the task he had given her, thrusting a way through the thick river growth. At first it was easy, but she noticed they were gradually being drawn along at greater speed and boulders appeared here and there in a channel of water which was no more than five feet wide and obscured by weeds. They caught up with a floating log and a mass of torn branches, got through somehow and were swept on. Now Pete was using a paddle to slow them down. He had to plunge it into the mud and hang on, straining with all his muscle to keep the canoe from cannoning into the trunks and rocks which were close enough to touch on each side.

If Terry had had time she would have looked about her and shivered with awe. They were in a ravine between steep, jungle-clad cliffs whose growth met overhead. It was like racing without volition through a dim green tracery of forest growth, far under the earth
’
s surface.

She shouted suddenly.
“
Pete! There
’
s a tree across the
river!
”

He shot to his feet and grabbed at a handful of the vines about his head. Terry clung to snake-like tendrils, and after a long, wrenching moment the canoe was nosed into the mud between tree roots. Pete leapt from the canoe and tied up, swung his body round a couple of trees and viewed the giant mahogany which had crashed diagonally and lay only eighteen inches above the water. Terry was close beside him. She stared, appalled, at the massive barrier.

“
What do we do?
”
she whispered.

“
There
’
s only one thing. The water is running too fast for us to push the canoe under the log; it would get out of hand. I
’
ll carry the stuff round and dump it, and then drag the canoe through the bush.
”

It
sounded overwhelming. She looked at his profile.
“Y
ou don
’
t get discouraged, do you?
”

“
Not much good, is it? We
’
ve got to get through. Your feet all right in those coolie sandals?
”

“
Yes. I don
’
t use them very much.
”

“
Well, you can follow me on each trip with the lighter things; it will take less time.
”
He paused, and added without much expression, I suppose you
’
re beginning to wish you
’
d stayed in Vinan?
”

“
Only for your sake. I must be quite a burden.
”

“
Even on my own I
’
d have had to get through this,
”
he said coolly.
“
Come on, it
’
s getting late. I want to get past the waterfall before dark.
”

“
Waterfall?
”
she echoed.
“
How shall we manage that?
”

“
Let
’
s get out of this before we think about the falls. I was told back at the village that the next three miles are the worst of the whole trip. A couple of hours should see us through.
”

“
But in less than an hour it will be da
rk.”

“
I
’
ve been saving the flashlight for an emergency. We
’ll
use it. Take the odds and ends, will you?
”

Terry helped as much as she could. Even when he began to drag the canoe she got behind it and pushe
d
till he told her to stop it. The whole operation took only half an hour, but the tunnel had lost its normal dusk and was almost black. However, Pete did not use his flashlight till the speed of the water began to bounce them from side to side of the narrow river.

Thankfully, Terry noticed that the vines were thinner and the river had widened to about ten feet. The blade, menacing water swept along with ever greater momentum, and then, above its sucking clamor, she heard the roar of the falls.

Afterwards, Terry was never able to remember the waterfalls very clearly, except the whiteness and the cold spray as she leapt and staggered down the thirty-foot rock face right alongside the tumbling foam. How Pete had dealt with the canoe remained a mystery, though she knew the whole operation of transferring the craft and its contents had demanded immense nerve and muscle. She had reached the smothering palms and ferns at the base of the falls, had waited an age while the flashlight seemed to toil of its own volition up and down the cliff. Then at last the canoe had arrived, at the end of the rope, with Pete slithering after it. His shirt was in ribbons, his hair rough and black and dripping, and his face was cast in a mould of maniacal determination.

“
All right?
”
he asked, above the noise of the cascade.

“
Splendid,
”
she replied automatically.

“
Then we
’
ll go on a little way before making some coffee. Too wet here.
”

Though he couldn
’
t have foreseen it, his decision brought luck. The swirling waters were left behind, the river widened to about twenty feet and a strip of starlit sky showed overhead. And to the left in a clearing which might have been hacked out by Malays a fire burned cheerfully and its glow illumined a quite magnificent prahu beside the bank. Pete steered towards the light and Terry saw that a remarkably good tent had been erected and a man was standing there waving both hands and beckoning. A white man.

The man caught the rope Pete threw and pulled them in, beamed at them redly as he called his Malay boy and gave him the rope to fasten. He was thickset and middle-aged, wore khaki slacks and a sweat shirt. He pumped Pete
’
s hand, beamed once more into Terry
’
s grimy face. To complete the picture his wife came from the tent, a mixing spoon in one hand while she stretched out the other.

“
My name is Lunn,
”
the man said,
“
and this is my wife, Meg. They just came from down-river, Meg,
”
he explained to her.
“
Look at the man
’
s shirt!
”

“
Pete Sternham,
”
said Pete.
“
This is Teresa.
”

“
Poor child,
”
said Mrs. Lunn, who had fuzzy grey-brown hair and a kindly smile.
“
You look tired, my dear. I
’
m sure you
’
d like to wash and use a towel on your hair.
”

Terry laughed, rather helplessly.
“
You sound so matter-of-fact! If it weren
’
t so steamy hot this could be a wet night in suburbia.
”

“
Well, we
’
ve lived here a long time, and you do eventually take everything in your stride. Come into the tent and I
’
ll fix you up.
”

The tent had room for two folding beds, a wash-basin on an iron pedestal, and a box of supplies of which the top was evidently used as a kitchen table. Mrs. Lunn poured water into the basin and left Terry to wash, dry her hair and brush a little life into the careless haircut. When Terry came outside Mrs. Lunn and her husband were setting up a folding table and looking out cutlery. Pete had added some of the food he had been given to that which the woman was preparing in a large iron pot, and he was now sitting back on the grass, smoking a cigarette and telling Mr. Lunn about the trip.

When Terry had seated herself on a canvas stool, the older man leaned over to speak to her. His large surprised smile took in her sunburned skin and slim shoulders, and he said,

“
I
’
ve just been hearing what you two have been through. This man of yours makes it sound as if it were no more than a pi
cn
ic in one of the wilder reaches of the Thames, but I
’
m sure it must have been very trying for you, straight out from England.
”

“
Well,
”
she looked quickly at Pete, but received no cue,
“
you see, I had to get through.
”

“
Seems you had a good man for it, anyway,
”
stated Mrs. Lunn.
“
Let
’
s have some soup. When we Lunns travel, we take half the kitchen stores with us!
”

“
You
’
re going down the river?
”

“
Up
the river,
”
Pete corrected her softly.
“
We
’
re going
down
.”

What was she supposed to infer from that? That this was merely a passing of ships in the night and she must behave accordingly?

She played safe.
“
So you
’
re going to do the trip we
’
ve just done. With that boat down there? How will you get it through
?
”

Mrs. Lunn poured soup straight from a saucepan into plastic soup plates.
“
We couldn
’
t go any further in that, bless you. We shall leave it here and our boat-boy will eventually take it back to the owner in Penghu. We have bearer boys to get us over the next five miles through the forest, and we shall send one of them to buy canoes at one of the villages. We shall be a party of eight as far as Shalak, where we
’
ll board the train. When we eventually get to the coast we
’
ll take a plane for Singapore.
”