How Teddy Roosevelt Slew the Last Mighty T-Rex (3 page)

Roosevelt’s set his sights on a strikingly tall man striding into camp alongside one of the native’s harems. He had no female companions, yet he was also quite naked and carried a spear and bow in Nhambiquara fashion. As the man approached, Roosevelt’s mouth lay agape noticing that he bore a full beard and his skin pigmentation was unquestionably white, and yet he was weathered to a leathery brown.

The oddly out-of-place man strode directly toward the dumfounded president, even ignoring Rondon, who stood only a few feet away bearing a most confused and astonished look. The man halted before Theodore Roosevelt, meeting the ex-president with brightened blue eyes and a smile that communicated mild delight. “I’m so honored to meet you President Roosevelt. I have come to offer my services to your fine and noble expedition.” He bowed slightly.

Roosevelt stood tongue-tied for a moment, allowing the sight of this man to fully inundate his brain. The fact that this man had obviously lived amongst these natives was enough to pique Teddy’s interest, but equally remarkable was his almost infallible discourse. But it was the stranger’s dialect that immediately betrayed his origins, known to everyone in nearly every corner of the world from Indonesia to Timbuktu. His grand words identified him as an educated man but also, unquestionably, as an Englishman in every respect.

Only a few moments had passed before every officer and scientist of the Roosevelt-Rondon Expedition had taken notice of the peculiar white man who wandered into camp amongst the Nhambiquara natives. Colonel Rondon, at least outwardly, appeared to show the least curiosity. He remained engaged with the native chieftains whom he must have deemed his highest priority; although Roosevelt spied Rondon sneaking a glance or two.

Kermit and Cherrie managed to break away from the natives, joining Roosevelt who ushered the lanky Englishman aside. Theodore Roosevelt was wholly taken aback by the man’s unreserved lack of modesty standing before a group of strangers without a stitch of clothing. Roosevelt also noticed that the man bore several rows of deep scarring across his boney back. The unusually tongue-tied former president motioned for him to sit.

“But first,” Roosevelt asked tepidly. “Would you be so kind to cover… to wear… Well, needless to say, your appearance is quite disconcerting.”

The man laughed. “But of course, and I sincerely apologize for my nudity. It appears I may have forgotten some basic decorum when greeting men who have ventured from beyond central Brazil. In fact, it has been somewhat freeing and a bit exhilarating living among these natives and breaking so many taboos intrinsic to our heritage. Yet covering my nakedness is the least I can do.”

Kermit searched around, but all he could find was an old dish towel.

The man quickly tied the rag around his waist and sat on the hard ground, crossing his muscular legs beneath his scrawny frame like a Buddhist monk. He shook his head. “Alas, it has been some time since I have been amongst a group of ‘civilized’ men. And now I sit before one of the great world leaders, President Theodore Roosevelt!”

“Former president,” Kermit corrected flatly.

“Please call me Colonel,” Roosevelt added, making a mental note of the stranger’s indulgent flattery, something he’d always thought masked ulterior intent, or worse, indicated downright deception.

“Ah, I see,” the man replied. “Without a doubt I have been away for quite some time.”

Colonel Rondon finally joined the group. He bent to pour himself another cup of tea. Roosevelt noticed Rondon’s eyes focus on the stranger.

“My name is William James Martin, Lieutenant On Her Majesty’s Service. Or should I say, formerly in the service of the Queen.”

Roosevelt nodded curtly. “And I do thank you for clarifying your status, Lieutenant Martin. I could not imagine welcoming a deserter into our midst.”

“Indeed,” Martin replied with a wide grin. “Rest assured, I have been granted leave by Commander Fawcett himself.”

“Fawcett,” Kermit said. “Percy Fawcett? What is he occupied with nowadays?
 
Train-sized anacondas? Five-headed frogs?”

“Kermit!” Roosevelt cautioned with a raised finger. “Lieutenant Colonel Percy Fawcett is a greatly respected mapmaker and explorer. He has been trekking through many parts of the Amazon for years and has added numerous and previously unknown chapters to our understanding of this continent. He is a man who should be offered the utmost respect.”

Kermit Roosevelt shrugged.

Teddy Roosevelt grimaced at his son’s gentle insolence. Turning back to Martin, he asked, “And on what particular mission did you part with Commander Fawcett?”

Roosevelt noticed a bit of hesitation on Martin’s part. He watched the man’s eyes dance between himself and upon Rondon’s tea. “Your stark appearance,” Roosevelt continued, “has robbed me of my manners it appears, dear sir. Would you care to share in our breakfast? Perhaps you would like some coffee, or a biscuit and beans?”

“I’m afraid even a small sample of your diet would make me quite ill at this moment, since I’ve grown accustomed to the native’s fare spanning several years. But a spot of tea would be lovely.”

“Of course…”

Colonel Rondon poured Martin a cup of tea. Martin tipped his cup back and took a long sip. Roosevelt watched Martin’s eyes close slowly as if attaining pure nirvana.

“I was inquiring about your mission with Commander Fawcett?”

“Oh, oh yes, Colonel.” Martin took another sip. “I was part of Fawcett’s expedition that mapped the Rio Verde.”

“Then, is Fawcett currently in the Amazon?”

“That is a question that I cannot rightfully answer. My last contact with Commander Fawcett was… hmmm… five summers ago by my reckoning.”

“Five years!”

“And I have not heard news of him since.”

“Then you have not lived in total isolation?” Kermit asked.

“I have never stated such, yet I have taken up with the Nhambiquara as well as several other tribes, some of which I’m certain even Colonel Rondon has yet to make contact.”

Rondon shook his head. “How is it possible to stay hidden in the Amazon for so long? I have never been informed of any white man living amongst the natives. News travels slowly in the wilderness, but it does proliferate, nonetheless.”

Martin smiled widely, still maintaining eye contact with Roosevelt. “Perhaps Colonel Rondon’s sources are somewhat inadequate.”

Cândido Mariano Rondon slowly poured his cup’s contents onto the campfire’s flames scattering sizzling drops across the searing embers. Kermit and Cherrie exchanged wide-eyed glances.

Theodore Roosevelt’s welcoming face suddenly straightened. “There is no call for insolence, Mister Martin.”

“My humble apologies… It was not my intent to insult Colonel Rondon or anyone else in your expedition. I was simply offering some justification for adding me to your intrepid troupe.”

“And exactly what are those qualifications?” Kermit asked.

 
Martin waved his hand toward the Nhambiquara. “I have studied these people and have lived amongst them. I know their language and, most important of all, they have accepted me into their culture.”

Roosevelt rubbed his chin. “Indeed, that is impressive on its face.”

“And what else?” George Cherrie asked.

“I have a Doctorate in Social Anthropology from Cambridge University, bestowed graciously in the year of our Lord, Eighteen hundred and ninety-eight.”

Cherrie raised a brow. Kermit poked at the fire.

“An Anthropologist,” Roosevelt said, eyeing Rondon for reaction. “Then, should we address you as Doctor, Mr. Martin?”

“With all respect, referring to me as Martin or Lieutenant Martin will suffice.”

Kermit snickered, perhaps realizing that he was the only person present who understood and recognized his father’s sublime humor.

“Regardless,
senhor
Martin,” Rondon said. “We simply cannot afford another mouth to feed once we embark on the river journey. Our supplies are already stretched to their limit.” Rondon waved his hand dismissively.

“I am well versed in living off whatever the jungle provides.”

“Paishon and I already have a good relationship with the natives—”

“Yes, dear Colonel, but I have—”

“Silence,” Rondon said, eyeing Martin with razor-sharp darts. “Consider yourself fortunate that you are not currently under my command, or you would have most likely already earned fifty lashes.”

“Gentlemen,” Roosevelt said with a gentle, waving hand. “Gentlemen, please.” Teddy sighed deeply. “Mister Martin, let me just say that in just a few minutes time you have managed to burn some important bridges with this expedition. Now I must ask you to plead your case quickly and concisely. Both Colonel Rondon’s and my patience does have its limits, and daylight is advancing. Can you offer anything else that could entice us to agreement? Otherwise, we must part ways.”

Martin smiled quite confidently, a recurring trait that annoyed Roosevelt to distraction.
This man was either extremely self-assured, a fool, or he was a raving maniac—or perhaps a bit of all three.

“Well, I have travelled down the river tributary to which you are now destined. Does this not pique your interest?”

Roosevelt’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing Martin’s simple declaration. The entirety of the last six months of anticipation and dire hardships would be in vain, if they could not rightfully declare that they were the first outsiders to trace the Amazon’s last unmapped river to its base. Teddy cared less about the possible ridicule he’d endure with such a revelation, but he cringed with disappointment knowing that he was now in the midst of his final adventure of any significance—his aging and battered body could take no more.

“The river has many twists and turns and countless rapids. The white water and sheer rocks would likely tear your canoes to shreds if the obstructions are not anticipated by an experienced guide.”

Kermit asked the bleak question that his famous father could not manage to articulate: “Then you have trekked the entire length of the river?”

“No, unfortunately I have not progressed farther than several weeks journey beyond Colonel Rondon’s bridge.”

Theodore Roosevelt sighed deeply. He exchanged relieved glances with Rondon, Kermit, and finally Cherrie.

“But I can tell you that these lands are scarcely populated, yet there are tribes who will slaughter any unprepared outsiders upon sight. And I needn’t tell you that fresh meats are scarce in the deep jungle, and, let us just say, civilized mores are practically nonexistent. And I shan’t get any more graphic than that, dear fellows.”

Roosevelt shuttered. “And how do you propose to help us?”

“I am a professional Social Anthropologist, Commander Roosevelt. I have already forged a relationship with some of these tribes, and if we encounter new groups, I pledge to offer my expertise in this regard.”

“One important question comes to mind,” Kermit said abruptly. “Why? Why would you want to subject yourself to such a journey?”

“Why?” Martin laughed. “Why? I entered the Amazon for roughly the same reasons as you and Colonel Roosevelt, dear man—for fame and accolades and for science and to understand the human condition. I did not proceed further because I travelled alone, and I heeded the native’s warning that the lands beyond were bleak and horrifically dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Roosevelt said. “Well, the entire Amazon is dangerous, sir. Of what nature of danger did they speak?”

“I cannot say. The natives often weave tall tales to ward off strangers, yet I took this particular warning very seriously.”

Roosevelt scratched his head. “I see…” He glanced toward Rondon, who stood crossed-armed and staring into the campfire. “Thank you for pleading your compelling case, Mister Martin. Now I must ask you to excuse yourself so that Colonel Rondon and I can discuss your application.”

Martin rose to his feet. He nodded curtly and then strode amongst the dancing Nhambiquaras. He laughed merrily pointing out his new nappies to the swirling ebony-colored women and children, their faces glowing with a mixture of mild ridicule and sheer delight.

Colonel Rondon shook his head. “I would like to say firstly and most ardently that I do not like him. And even more importantly, he would be another mouth to feed, which we cannot afford.”

“Colonel,” Roosevelt said. “I trust your judgment of men beyond any second-guessing. I only ask that you consider what this man can offer the expedition.”

“The only thing he will likely offer is the real potential of mutiny amongst my camaradas. He is arrogant and a threat to morale. I have seen this before.”

“That is a justifiable concern, yet his knowledge of the river’s headwaters may be instrumental in protecting our canoes and could possibly save our lives. And he could help with the natives.”

“If he is telling the truth…”

Roosevelt turned to Kermit. “What do you think, son?”

“Father, there is no doubt that this man is an arrogant son-of-a-bitch. And having someone along who knows the river would make our lives easier and safer. But there’s something puzzling about this man, something that struck me while I was listening to his tale. How does he know so much about our expedition? And if, as he says, he has been wandering the Amazon for years, how did he know our destination? And how did he know when to intercept us here at the Bonifácio station?”

“Those are excellent questions, Kerm.”

“Do you not see,
senhors
,” Rondon interjected, “this man is deceitful and will have to be watched at all times. He keeps things to himself—things that reflect poorly on his past or things that he may use at a later time to enhance his personal situation. I don’t trust him.”