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MORE P R O F:t 1T~ : ?1?H. AW ;a=Q>.3W

MORE P

GOD

by

JOAN ARBUTHNOT

New York

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1936

SOI^S

Ststtes of America

"rights -reserved. ' /^^ part &f tttis book

be repradLiAGed i-n- ctny form
the permission, of

To
Given, Rachel and

CONTENTS

I WE SET OUT> ~"~ 15

II THE SPANISH MAIN 22

III THE ISLANDS 69

IV WE ALL MEET*-"" 83

V THE RIVERA- *2
VX THE JOURNEY THROUGH THE FOREST * - 137

VII THE FRONTIER *--~ 1 73

VIII STILL NO GOLD 2OJJ

ix GOLD! 257

X THE JOURNEY BACK 264

ILLUSTRATIONS

ON THE ROAD TO GHIMBORAZO facing p. 46

THE BEACH AT TORBAGO 78

'THE GOLDEN HIND' AT MORAWHANNA 94

JOAN AND RACHEL START FOR THE INTERIOR IOO

CLEARING A PASSAGE UP THE RIVER IIO

OBSTRUCTIONS IN THE RIVER I2O

MR. COOK'S SHOP AT FIVE STARS 136

AUTHOR ON BOARD *THE GOLDEN HIND' 136

CAMP IN THE FOREST 152

BUSH ROPE 192

INDIAN SHOOTING FISH 1 92

GWEN AND INDIAN BOY ON GIANT TREE 224

INDIAN DROGHERS 258

THE RIVER 276

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CHAPTER I

WE SET OUT

'SOMETHING is going to happen!'

I had felt it all day. c . . . And it will be something
exciting and important.'

It was an evening in October, and the three of us
were seated round the fire in a Corsican inn boiling
chestnuts. One was Maurice Blake the proprietor,
another was his young wife Gwen, and I was the
third. There was a slight feeling of depression in the
air because of the growing difficulty of inn-keeping
without clients, and the discovery that the cook,
procured with great labour from the Continent, was
really a postmistress on holiday.

'What can possibly happen?' Maurice prodded the
chestnuts and sighed in rather an exaggerated manner.
He is a vigorous man with a very dominant personality
and on the rare occasions when he is despondent he
is very despondent indeed.

Gwen hastened to change the trend of thought.

'The chestnuts are done', she announced, and
went to fetch plates and some butter. Maurice rose
from his chair.

'Let me go 5 , he said insincerely, but the offer was
well timed and she had vanished.

I picked up his scrap book. It was a very large one,
I remember, and covered an astonishing range of
countries and activities which included the Bar, the

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air force, explorations, voyages before the mast,
marriage, and finally inn-keeping.

'Where were you', I asked, 'five years ago?'

'. . . Five years ago I was in South America
prospecting for diamonds.'

'With any success?'

'Not considerable, but I hadn't enough capital to
finance that expedition properly, and towards the end
I had to sell most of my diamonds for food. Also
there had been a "shout" in the district some years
before, and many of the creeks were already worked.
But', he went on, 'there is a river far away in the
interior of British Guiana that has never been worked,
and where I am certain there is . . .' Gwen came in
with the plates '. . . a fortune to be made,' she con-
cluded.

Visions began to float through my mind.

'I've got an idea. Let's go there!'

'All very well. That is easily said. What about
funds? What about the inn?'

'It is all perfectly simple. You can dismiss the
postmistress and close down this unprofitable inn.
We will all put up our share of expenses with some-
thing over for emergencies. We will select three other
suitable persons who will do the same, and we will
sail for South America on January ist.

So the plot was laid.

The next ten days were spent amid a whirl of plans,
maps, and excitement. I bought a Corsican peasant's
umbrella of vast dimensions to keep off the equatorial
rains. We made out lists of stores with their cost and
weight. We pored over an old copy of the mining

16

WE SET OUT

regulations of British Guiana. We talked of the
expedition all day. We dreamed of it at night. Our
fortunes were already made.

A week later I returned to London. My family
disapproved. I knew that they would. They not only
disapproved, they ignored. South America might
have been wiped off the map for all the notice they
took of it. One day I overheard someone asking
whether there was any truth in the rumour that I was
going to South America. Then my father's voice:

c . . .Joan's expedition Oh no! That won't come
to anything. 5

Meanwhile preparations went on apace. Maurice
and Gwen came over from Corsica. We bought camp
beds and tents, field boots and revolvers. We became
a syndicate and registered ourselves as a Limited
Liability Company. Gwen spent her time tasting the
contents of sample tins. I drove all over London
searching for gold and diamond scales.

But still our numbers remained the same. As a
result of a notice in the papers I received a number
of letters from people who said that they would like
to go with us at a salary in any capacity. One young
man enclosed his photograph and said that he had a
sunny disposition.

But nobody who had anything more substantial to
lose was prepared to risk it. If there is anything in the
scheme, they said, why hasn't it been done before? One
man said that there was nothing he would enjoy more
if he had the time for a prolonged holiday. I wanted to
tell him, but didn't because of the futility of telling
anyone anything he doesn't want to believe, that with

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such a point of view he was wiser to stay at home.
'You will never/ I imagined myself saying, "achieve, or
reach the heart of anything unless you approach it in
a serious and whole-hearted manner, having burnt your
boats behind you. There is everything to be said for
Boat Burning. 5 And much more to the same effect.

We spent many enjoyable evenings lamenting the
decline of enterprise among young men, but the
outlook was far from bright. Unless more capital could
be raised our chances of success were practically
reduced to non-existence.

And then I thought of a compatriot, Rachel Leigh-
White. She was about the same age as myself, and as
far as I knew suitable in every way for expeditions. So
I sat down and wrote to her, told her what we were
going to do, and asked whether she would care to join
us. Two days later I received a telegram from the
Free State.

DELIGHTED WITH PLAN CAN I LUNCH TO-MORROW

She crossed from Ireland that night, came to
luncheon, heard a few more particulars about the
expedition, and without more ado decided to throw in
her lot with us. Then she drove off to catch the Irish
Mail and I did not see her again until shortly before
we sailed.

The clouds were lifting, and when a retired colonel
wrote to say that he had heard of the proposed
expedition and was anxious to become a member of it,
they all rolled away.

Still the family ignored. At last, shortly before
Christmas, an appalling headline appeared in the
evening paper.

WE SET OUT

'Society Gold Rush! Mayfair Girl Tired of Parties! 5

Aware that some announcement impended (but
never suspecting anything so silly and inaccurate) I
had gone out, leaving instructions with my sister to
remove the offending page before anyone else saw it.
This she had done, and nobody noticed its absence
until one of my brothers walked in and picked up the
paper.

'What has become of the middle page? 5 he asked.
'There is a long account on it of Joan's expedition.'

So another copy was sent for and then the talk
began.

'The idea is insane/ they told me.

'British Guiana has the worst climate in the world
and everyone knows that the forest is The White Man's
Grave.'

'If you go up there you will certainly never come
down.'

'. . , Or if you do/ someone else amended, 'you will
be riddled with fever and look forty.'

It did not sound a cheerful prospect.

Christmas came and went; many things still re-
mained to be done, and January ist fa$ed away into
the past. But now the end was in sight. Stores and
equipment were shipped to Georgetown and we
booked our passages.

Maurice and Gwen were to go by a very small boat
that did not touch anywhere. Rachel and I decided to
sail a fortnight earlier and by a rather larger boat (five
thousand instead of two thousand tons) and a different
route. We intended to land at the first West Indian
island we liked and remain there sun and sea bathing

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until the others should cable from Georgetown that the
final preparations were made and the boat built on
which we were to sail up river into the interior. The
colonel was to come out from England direct to
Georgetown by a later boat arriving about the same
time as Rachel and myself.

Nearer and nearer drew the day of departure. The
expedition was now an accepted fact. My father,
seeing that nothing could prevail against my extra-
ordinary folly and obstinacy gave in with a very good
grace, and he presented me at parting with a flask of
brandy and two evil smelling bottles of disinfectant.

February i5th dawned bleak and cheerless, with
snow upon the ground and an icy wind whistling in
the chimneys. As I lay in bed, putting off the moment
when I must leave its pleasant warmth for the coldness
of the outer air, I wondered whether I should ever
again lie in so large and comfortable a bed. It was a
solemn thought.

We decided to send the luggage on ahead and walk
down to Victoria station, and at half-past one a pro-
cession might have been seen issuing from the house,
each person carrying some important piece of property
that had been forgotten until the last minute. Less
than fifteen yards from the front door a collision with
an omnibus was narrowly avoided. This first peril
averted the expedition pursued its way.

The platform was crowded. On either side trains
were preparing to leave for Dover, and were rapidly
filling. People stood about in groups seeing the last of
their friends. They hurried to and from the book-stand
armed with newspapers and magazines. Through the

20

WE SET OUT

carriage windows they could be seen placing their
lighter belongings in the rack and settling themselves
for the journey. Porters wheeling barrows of luggage
threaded their way along the platform.

One forty-nine! The whistle blew, and all along the
train doors were slammed. The engine came to life
with a piercing scream, and then with ever quickening
shoots of steam we began to move slowly out of the
station. In the carriage the gloom turned to daylight
while on the receding platform the crowd became
smaller and smaller and disappeared.

CHAPTER II

THE SPANISH MAIN

THE voyage was like any other voyage. There was a
storm during which all normally constituted persons
wished they were dead. It was followed by an oily
swell. There was the Ship's Bore, the Ship's Scandal,
the Ship's Lunatic, and on the night before we landed
there was a fancy dress dance at which Rachel
appeared in a curious garment she had concocted of
green, white and yellow paper, representing the Free
State.

The captain's table, at which we sat, had in our
honour been decorated with Free State flags. It was a
joy to see Rachel sitting there, a large flag among small
flags.

But there are disadvantages to paper dresses, a
prominent one being their inability to stand wear and
tear, and by the time the evening was over Rachel
was considerably more in evidence than the Free State,
to the delight and unbounded admiration of the Dutch
stewards.

'She is the pride of the ship!' they said, and followed
her enthusiastically with their eyes.

Next day we landed.

If any reader dislikes wind, glare, clatter, streets that
are crowded hot and noisy beyond belief, and a
countryside which for the most part is perfectly flat,

22

THE SPANISH MAIN

let him not go to Barbados, for it is windy and unattrac-
tive, and very soon after we arrived we decided to go
away again by the first comfortable boat going in the
right direction. However, such was the determined
friendliness and hospitality of the English colony that
after two days of it we decided to leave by the first boat
going in any direction, comfortable or not. And we
did.

It took us to Trinidad, a very lovely island, cele-
brated, amongst other things, for pitch. But we saw
neither the loveliness nor the pitch until a much later
date for reasons that will soon transpire.

Our ship, the Lady Ena> sailed in the evening, and
shortly after Barbados had faded away into the
distance a bugle call summoned us to dinner.

We discovered our places at the captain's table, and
were soon in animated conversation.

We told him about the cable that we had received on
our arrival at Barbados. It said that there had been a
slight hitch in the business arrangements, and that the
rest of the expedition would not be able to leave for
another fortnight. As a result of this we had at least
six weeks to spend where and how we chose. Had he,
we asked, any suggestions to offer?

He thought, for a moment and then said, c Why not
take passages to Panama?'

We thought it an excellent idea.

'Almost all ships call at many ports on the way,' he
continued; 'you could disembark whenever you found
a place that pleased you, and perhaps see something of
the interior of Venezuela and Colombia.'

The idea pleased us more and more. We asked him

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whether he knew when the next ship left Trinidad for
Panama, and he said that he believed that the S.S.
Berlina was due to sail the very day we landed.

'You might have time to make the connection, we
reach Trinidad early in the morning wait a minute,
I'll send for the list. 5

He called the steward, and when the list was
brought it was found that the S.S. Berlina did indeed
sail at noon on the day of our arrival.

The remainder of the evening was spent sorting and
repacking our clothes. We would leave the heavy
luggage, we decided, at Trinidad, for we could not
reach British Guiana without changing ships there on
the way back.

We arranged to take a suitcase and a rucksack each,
and a kitbag in common which was to hold any
indispensable thing that would not fit in anywhere else.

Before we went to bed that night they were packed,
and strapped, and ready. We had sternly banished
everything that was not strictly necessary, and kept
only what might be necessary: tennis racquets, for
instance, and a flit gun; most unwillingly we decided
to leave the gramophone behind in case there should be
difficulties about it at customs. I fell asleep with
visions floating through my brain of buccaneers and
buried treasure. And so, I am sure, did Rachel.

We spent the greater part of the next day searching
in the suitcases for clothes to wear and other necessities,
for so great had been our enthusiasm to start off for
the Spanish Main that we had quite overlooked the
fact that there was yet another day to spend on board
before we reached Trinidad.

24

THE SPANISH MAIN

In the afternoon we called at Granada, and went
ashore, and were shown a wonderful wide sandy shore
where the Prince of Wales they told us had been,
and had highly recommended for bathing purposes.

Next morning we reached Trinidad, and went
ashore in a tender. We dashed in a motor to the
shipping office and booked passages to Curasao. Then
we dashed back again, and having left the heavy
luggage in charge of the customs official, stepped
aboard another tender, and were borne away to the
S.S. Berlina which was lying at anchor some three
miles from the shore.

That afternoon we sat on two uncomfortable deck
chairs and looked at the sea. In the distance the
mountains of Venezuela were faintly visible.

After a while a stout little man came and sat next
to us and told us that his name was Mr. Ladd, and
that he spent much of his time abroad. From this and
from his general appearance we gathered, quite
correctly, that he was a commercial traveller.

He said that he knew this part of the world very
well, so we told him that we thought of going ashore at
La Guayra and driving to Caracas. Did he know
where we could hire a car, and what was the Spanish
for it?,

He told us, and added that he himself was going to
Caracas on business, and like ourselves rejoining the
ship at Puerta Cabello. Why should we not share a
car? It would, he said, be less expensive and more
agreeable, and he might be able to smooth the way
for us as he had previous experience of South American
officials and spoke Spanish fluently.

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'But no doubt you speak it too?*

We hesitated. I could say Yes and No and Thank
you and Good-bye. Rachel had studied a Hugo on the
way out from England and could say that she did not
speak Spanish.

We said that we did a little.

Next morning we rose, as one always does in port,
far too early, and had to wait a long time before
breakfast was ready. We wandered about the deck
taking photographs of the view.

La Guayra is a fascinating port. The town is at
the edge of the sea. The 'harbour is dotted with sailing
bpats and there is a constant stir of life and movement.

It took us five hours to pass with our rucksacks
through the customs, and had it not been for Mr.
Ladd's liberal tip to the principal official I doubt
whether we should have got through at all

The drive to Caracas was a lively experience. We
had been told that the road was one of the most
dangerous and precipitous in the world, so that when
we started off, and our driver turned out to be a very
reckless man, driving on the wrong side of the road,
charging round corners, and generally flinging discre-
tion to the winds, we began to speculate as to the
probable end of the trip; we had not gone more than a
hundred yards before we overtook a funeral, and after
that neither Rachel nor I knew an easy moment.

The hairpin bends, the sheer precipices were sights
to wonder at. All the time we were mounting
mounting, and the ships in the harbour at La Guayra
became momentarily smaller and less important.

A particularly blind corner revealed an unusual

THE SPANISH MAIN

sight. At the side of the road stood a stone pillar, and
on top of it a wrecked and derelict motor car. Rather
a grim joke, we thought. It looked most peculiar; the
great barren mountains all around, and this ridiculous
relic perched up as a warning. Farther along, the road
was fenced with the remains of several more cars that
had evidently collided.

At length we reached Caracas, and after repeated
and useless questioning discovered the Middleton
Hotel.

We lunched, and rested, and shopped (I bought an
expensive beret), had tea, and went for a long walk.

Caracas is a delightful city, set like the well-worn
jewel in a cup of the mountains. It is three thousand
feet above sea-level, and the air is keen and cool. Very
refreshing we found it after a morning with the
customs.

During the course of our walk we came to a semi-
circular mountain of steps leading up to a statue of
Simon Bolivar. We climbed them, and sank pantingly
to rest at Bolivar's feet, from where we had a magni-
ficent view over Caracas, with its domes and spires, and
the red mountains all around it.

We walked up a path through gardens which were
in process of construction, saw the zoo (containing
a few depressed-looking birds| and fewer monkeys),
and a chapel, and more gardens^ Then we returned to
Bolivar, descended the steps, and walked back through
hitherto unknown (to us) parts of the town.

In one street gaudily painted women sat . at the
windows of their houses and gazed out through the
bars, and from every house and little shop came music,

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pianos, real and mechanical, gramophones, concer-
tinas, all playing tangos, all at variance, gay, indif-
ferent, each one separate and distinct, serenely
following its appointed course a fearless, splendid
medley! It was extraordinarily exhilarating.

The effect of sound can be very strange, especially a
sudden isolated sound. Sometimes, as you hear it, an
intense awareness of its beauty and significance
pierces through you. You vibrate as a twanged instru-
ment. You are outside the flow of life at the very
source of beauty.

It may be the far peal of a bell, the beat of a horse's
hoofs upon the hard road, a distant barrel organ heard
through the multitudinous stir of a town, the shedding
of rain. In a flash it has happened.

I remember a night in Holland, wide, and flat, and
empty, a winter night, and then through the stillness
the sudden quacking of ducks. . . .

We continued our walk, and were struck by many
strange and interesting things. The policemen, for in-
stance, are exceedingly quaint. They wear baggy brown
suits, and English helmets, and I cannot help feeling
that they must be under a certain height in order to
qualify, for I never saw one who was over five foot five*

A peculiarly small specimen stood on a dais under
an umbrella in the rriost populous part of the town,
directing the traffic" with magnificent waves of his
truncheon, while in the other hand he held and
munched a large cream cake. We watched him at it
for a long time,

In the evening we were fetched by a man in a motor,
to whom Mr. Ladd had an introduction, and were

28

THE SPANISH MAIN

driven all over the town, and through El Paraiso, the
residential part, so that we might see what it looked
like by night.

Rachel and Mr. Ladd sat behind, the man and I in
front. He told me many interesting things: that the
dictator was over eighty, and half Indian, and that he
had more than a hundred children; that the country-
had no national debt, and no taxation, because the
state lotteries paid for everything; that the treatment
of offenders, both criminal &nd political, had not
changed since the middle ages; and that if a man
wanted, in- Latin fashion, to serenade a lady, he had
first to procure a police permit.

Next morning we left Caracas. Prior to our de-
parture a council had been held, and it had been
decided to hire a car and drive until we had driven
enough, then to stop for the night, and continue next
day to Puerta Cabello. Mr. Ladd, alarmed at the idea
of a wayside Venezuelan inn, tried to persuade us to
spend another night in Caracas instead, and drive
straight to Puerta Cabello without stopping at all;
but we paid no attention to him.

Our car was packed to overflowing, for in addition
to ourselves, the luggage, lunch, and Mr. Ladd, we
had acquired a passenger. He, too, was English, and
was even shorter and stouter than Mr. Ladd. He wore
a straw hat perched on the very top of his head, and
was the most cheerful and conversational person that
it is possible to imagine. His name was Mr. Shaw
c of Spain', he explained, indicating his visiting card,
and when we asked 'Why of Spain?' he said it was
because he had a house at Algeciras.

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We passed through Maracay, where the dictator
lives surrounded by his families and the army, and
reached Valencia soon after dusk. Here we stopped,
and decided to spend the night, for it was Mr. Shaw's
destination (he too was a commercial traveller), and
we were all blinded by glare and dust and so stiff that
we could scarcely move.

We found a charming inn built Spanish-wise round
a patio filled with mint and roses, and as it looked clean
and had a shower and two large unoccupied rooms, we
decided to stay there.

As soon as we had washed and brushed ourselves
we all assembled in the patio and set off to inspect the
town. There was a square with a band playing in it,
and on the far side an imposing caf<, into which we
went, and ordered aperitifs. It was a nice clean place,
kept by two bald Germans. An immense Venezuelan
strolled in while we were there and burst into song.
Then he sat down at the table next to us, and gazed
admiringly at Rachel.

<O! Bella! Bella! Bella! Bella! 3 he repeated over and
over again. Rachel was quite embarrassed, and we
half thought of getting Mr, Ladd and Mr. Shaw to
challenge him to a duel. Finally we solved the
difficulty by getting up to go,

C O! Bella! Bella! Bella! Bella!' we heard echoing
through the room as we beat a hasty retreat.

Next morning after breakfast we took leave of Mr.
Shaw and set off once more in the car.

The road descended and twisted the whole way, and
was far more dangerous than the road from La Guayra
to Caracas, so we were thankful that our driver was an

3

THE SPANISH MAIN

American and not a Venezuelan. All along the road,
at intervals of fifty feet, were wayside crosses, marking
the place where motorists had been hurled to their
death.

We reached Puerta Cabello in the afternoon, and
were told by the head steward that after all the ship
was not sailing until the following evening. This was
annoying, for Puerta Cabello is hot and noisy and
uninteresting, and full of flies.

Two days later we reached Curasao, and were met
by a young Dutchman with whom we had made
friends on the way out from England.

'Don't stay here,' he said, 'You won't like the hotel,
and there is nothing to see once you've seen the oil
refinery. I am going on to-night by your boat to
Cartagena in Colombia, and I strongly advise you to
come too. 3

We said that we would, booked our passages, and
set off to procure Colombian visas from the consul.

'The importance of personal contacts is well known
wherever people of the Spanish race are concerned/
remarks that interesting writer, Salvador de Madriaga.
'Whether the question in debate is a trivial matter or
the most important business, a relation from man to
man is indispensable if results are to be obtained.'

He is indeed right. At least two days should be
allowed for the procuring of a visa for any South
American country. It is a Herculean labour at the
best of times, and when the consul is an octogenarian,
and deaf, and speaks nothing but Spanish, the dif-
ficulties of establishing a relation from man to man are
wellnigh insuperable.

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But we did it. With the aid of the dictionary, and
vouched for by the young Dutchman, whom I will
call V.H., we were given certificates of Good Conduct,
and when we had had our photographs taken, and had
produced the depressing result, together with certifi-
cates of Vaccination and Good Health, and various
other certificates, the visas were stamped and affixed
to our passports, and we went our way rejoicing.

There was just enough time left before the ship sailed
to see something of the town. We took a car, and
drove up a little hill to the house in which V,H. had
been staying. Here we had food and drink and an
excellent view of Curasao. The town is bright and
quaint, but not at all beautiful The rest of the island
is arid and treeless. There is a superstition that it
never rains in Curacao, but this is quite unfounded,

On the following day we called at Puerta Colombia,
and as the ship was to remain there for twenty-four
hours, we decided to drive up to Barranquilla, and
spend the night comfortably in the hotel. This we
did.

The country between Puerta Colombia and Barran-
quilla was very burnt up, and I caught sight of a large
iguana at the side of the appalling road. The hotel
(The Prado) is comfortable and expensive, and the
loveliest little jade and turquoise lizards may be seen
darting about in the grass outside.

Next morning we drove back to the ship, and after
another day at sea, we sailed into Cartagena,

A city by the sea has a glamorous sound, and
Cartagena was all that we had hoped of it and more.
Here, you feel, as you walk along the narrow streets, or

32

THE SPANISH MAIN

lean over the immense ramparts, is romance, and high
adventure! Here splendid pageantry! The spirit of the
Conquistadores is abroad . . . anything may happen!

What actually happened on the night of our arrival
was that Rachel's hair brush fell out of the window into
the street three storeys below. A crowd instantly
collected, and from their clamour and excitement we
supposed that they must have taken it to be some kind
of a bomb.

We began to wonder a little anxiously whether they
intended to storm the hotel, when the electric light
all over Cartagena fused and we were plunged
into profound darkness. By the time the fuse was
mended the crowd had dispersed.

We stayed at an hotel with a courtyard, and a dear
little monkey in it; and each morning V.H. and Rachel
and T, and sometimes V.H. and I without Rachel
used to drive out to a wide lonely shore and bathe.
There would be no one there at that hour except the
pelicans, or an occasional fisherman setting out in his
boat to dynamite fish.

At a little distance from the town there stands, at
an altitude of six or seven hundred feet, the ruined
monastery of La Popa. Long ago, in the days of the
buccaneers, it was a convent, and the story goes that
when the nuns heard that Sir Francis Drake was
sailing in to sack the town they were so indignant and
alarmed that they picked up their skirts, and headed by
the Mother Superior, jumped one after the other over
the parapet.

I visited La Popa twice. It is a desolate, silent spot.
There is no one there now but an old man and a

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donkey, and grass grows through the paving of the
chapel. As you stand and gaze down at the little stir
of life so far below, you feel very free and aloof, very
tranquil and safe* It is a perfect place for a convent.

We remained at Cartagena for nearly a week, and
left it at last with maay regrets. But we had to go, for
our time was not unlimited, and we planned to visit
either Mexico or a South Sea island.

The next two days were spent at sea in the most
uncomfortable little cockleshell of a boat either of us
had ever experienced. It called itself a 'freighter with
small passenger accommodation', and indeed so small
was it that we could barely turn round. There were
bunks for twelve and there were fifteen passengers, so
the bunkless had to sleep on a small grubby piece of
wood that did service as a deck. They cannot have
enjoyed it very much for it rained steadily both nights
we were at sea.

On the second day we ran into a fog and a thunder-
storm, and the fog horn and the claps of thunder
coincided with the protestations of a cargo of turkeys
which were tied up all over the ship to pieces of rigging.

Colon is an efficiently run, charnjless place. The same
may be said of Cristobal Panama, on the other hand,
is most interesting, and so many and varied are the
races and colours of the people walking in the streets
that you realize how aptly it is called the crossroads of
the world.

We went there by train on the afternoon of our
arrival, having spent the morning at a steamship
office, discovering that all our hoped-for connections

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THE SPANISH MAIN

missed each other. Peru as a destination was, for
reasons of time and money, quite out of the question .
So were Mexico and the South Sea, so was Ecuador;
but we were determined to go there. A lot of it, we
knew, was high up in the Andes, head hunting
tribes still inhabited the mountain fastnesses, and
Quito, the capital, was at an altitude of ten thousand
feet, and surrounded by large active volcanoes.

To Ecuador, therefore, we would go, but in case
we should find, when we got there, that we had to
travel on mules, we decided to send the kitbag back to
Trinidad. This we did after removing the flit gun.

But all this had happened in the morning. We are
now in Panama, and probably wandering about in the
rain, hunting for the church with the golden altar,
and the church with the flat arch. This last is really
not worth seeing, especially not on a rainy day, for as
it is a ruin you cannot even shelter in it.

Later on we took a car and drove out to Old
Panama, which was most efficiently sacked by Sir
Henry Morgan in 1671. Nothing remains of its former
splendour but a few sad grey ruins. Like every other
tourist who has ever visited it, I took photographs of
these ruins from various angles. I also and this has
probably been done less often took photographs of
the Pacific. Rachel sat in the car with her back turned,
because she was annoyed at having brought her
camera without a film.

We got back to Colon in time for dinner.

Very early next morning we went to the hospital to
get more certificates of Good Health, presented them to
the Ecuadorian Consul, and before the day was out

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expensive visas had been attached to our passports.
We should never have accomplished it in so short a
time had it not been for a most helpful young man at
the shipping office.

The following day found us on the Pacific, aboard
a German ship bound for Guayaquil.

I disliked that ship very much, and I disliked Rachel,
because she had given me a cold in the head, and
because we were sharing a cabin. The sea was rough
enough to prevent our being able to dress in the
mornings without hanging on to the bunks, and there
weren't enough deck chairs.

We disliked the ship so much that three days later
we changed into a little cargo boat which had called
as we had at a port in Colombia called Buena-
ventura.

Oh! The relief of having a cabin of one's own! I
was so pleased with it, and with Rachel, and with
everything in the wonderful world, that for a long
time on that first night I could not sleep. The cabin
gave on to the little deck, and I lay in my bunk and
gazed through the open door at the moonlight
glistening on the sea. It was inexpressibly lovely. I
slipped on a coat and a pair of shoes and went forward
into the prow.

No one else was there. Indeed there was no one
else who could be there except the sailors, who
weren't, and Rachel, for we were the only passengers.

A light cool wind blew through my hair, and made
the little ship ride along very gallantly over the waves.
Behind us summer lightning played in the sky; above,
a crescent moon and one brilliant star shone out

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THE SPANISH MAIN

through the rigging. The moonshine on the water
made a shimmering pathway.

Later on a mist crept over the sea, and turned to fine
rain. I went back to bed, and pulled the bed-clothes
close up round my ears, for it had grown cooler.
Indeed the nearer we got to the equator the cooler it
became. On the night before we crossed it I had a
hot water bottle, a blanket, a rug, and a groundsheet,
and was still cold.

Each day that passed left us more delighted with the
ship. It was very small, and spotlessly clean. There
were half a dozen cabins, all on deck; a tiny little
saloon where, at meal times, Rachel and I used to sit
one on each side of the captain, and an electric
gramophone with piles of records. There was also a
charming stowaway dog that had come aboard at
Panama. The crew was composed of the captain, two
other officers, an excellent cook, a steward, and a
cabin boy, all Germans; and a number of Indian
sailors who were rarely seen. It was a cheerful
compact little company.

The great thrill of life aboard was caused by a very
novel fishing line which was suspended from a
bamboo pole at the side of the ship. It had a bell
attached to it, so that when a fish was caught it jerked
the bamboo, which rang the bell, and the entire
ship's company would run excitedly to the spot. One
day a very large fish, about five feet long, was landed,
and came careering down the deck, to the consterna-
tion of the assembled crowd, who scattered in all
directions. The stowaway dog, who had been an
interested spectator, gave one look, and vanished like

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a streak of lightning; the fish then slipped through the
rails into the sea, and was gone,

When we were not fishing we played the gramo-
phone, or chess, or lay on deck in the sun, and
listened to the engineer. He was the most talkative
person I ever met, but of this he must have been
unaware, for he told us continually that the ambition of
his life was to live alone on a desert island,

We crossed the Line one morning at ten* That night
our last at sea there was a terrific thunderstorm.
The crashes were deafening, and the brilliant con-
tinuous lightning lit up the sea and the distant Andes,

On Friday we entered the mouth of the wide river
Guayas. We steamed slowly up it for nearly five
hours, looking with interest at the land on either side,
and at the pelicans diving for fish and floating placidly
on the calm water. The banks on either side of the
river were flat, and dotted with cattle, and an occa-
sional low building. Far behind, the great mountains
towered above the clouds. It was strange and tJbrilling
to realize that in a few days we should be up among
them they looked so very lofty and remote. When
the captain called to us to come and look at Chim-
borazo, its snow-covered peak was so high up in the
sky that we could not believe that it was really a
mountain, and attached to the earth until we had
looked at it through his binoculars,

Guayaquil was sighted at sunset. As we drew near,
all the biuldings were lit up with a crimson glow. It
looked a fine and imposing town.

The first thing that happened after we landed was
that our passports were taken from us, and we were

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told to call for them later with photographs at the
police court.

'But when shall we call for them? 5 we asked in
consternation. 'The train for Quito leaves early to-
morrow morning. 5

'Oh no! it doesn't,' they said. 'It has changed. It
leaves on Monday.'

What a continent! we thought.

The suitcases were passed through the customs
without much difficulty, and without much noise, we
were surprised to find, for we had a vivid recollection
of the custom house at Cartagena with its heat, and
squash, and general confusion, everyone yelling at
the top of his voice. This one was comparatively calm,
chiefly, I think, because there was no one to yell,
Rachel and I being the only passengers.

The next thing to do was to find an hotel. We
consulted the directory, then asked which was the
best one in Guayaquil.

'The Imperial,' answered a miserable looking un-
shaved individual.

The Imperial had a solid, respectable sound, so we
thanked him, and directed the porter to proceed
there with the luggage. He set off on foot, and as
there was no sign of any conveyance, we did the same.
The little rat-like man came too, and tried to engage
us in conversation.

'Go away,' we said. But he wouldn't. He clung,
metaphorically speaking, like a leech. We were
beginning to be really annoyed with him when we
reached the hotel and found to our surprise that he
was the concierge.

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It was an exceedingly unpretentious house, and we
hoped it was clean. The manager showed us to a
couple of rooms on the second storey, and the luggage
was deposited on the various floors. I looked round,
and noticed that a door led from my room to another
one which was not Rachel's, and that on n*y side it
was unbolted,

'Lock it, please, 5 I said. Several people tried to do
so, but without any success. The manager mopped his
brow.

'The signorita need have no fear/ he said. 'This is a
most respectable hoteL The only respectable hotel in
Guayaquil/

I said that I was sure it was, but that all the same I
liked doors that locked on the inside. So they applied
themselves to it with renewed vigour. Not a movement.
The bolt was hopelessly rusted. Eventually I became
so bored with the hammering and the jabbering in
Spanish that I said that it was of no importance.

Again the manager assured me that I need have no
fear, for the client on the other side was elderly and
law abiding, and had been a friend of his for many
years. Small recommendation, I thought, but said
no more about it. When he had gone Rachel and I
dragged a chest of drawers in front of it and then
went down to dinner.

It took place in a large room bar, office, hall and
dining-room combined. We tried all the things on the
menu to see what they were in English. Some of
them were quite good.

The following morning we went to the shipping
office to inquire when a ship was returning to Panama.

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THE SPANISH MAIN

One went a week later, which would have allowed us
time to go to Quito, see it, and return to Guayaquil,
but it touched at every little port on the way, and did
not reach Panama until long after we should have had
to leave for Trinidad.

Then we tried the office of the Scadta Air Line, and
before we came out of it we had decided to fling
discretion and a great deal of money to the winds, to
fly along the Pacific from Guayaquil to Buenaventura,
to make our way into the interior to Bogota, to remain
there for a couple of days, then fly over the northern
Andes to the Caribbean coast, and there pick up a ship
bound for Trinidad. In this way a large amount of
ground could be covered that could not, in any other
way, be covered under several months.

We had also made friends with the manager, who
put his launch at our disposal, and invited us to come
out in it any time that suited us.

c Gould you take us somewhere where we could see a
reduced head?' we asked.

He pulled open the drawer of the table at which he
was sitting, and took out a parcel, unwrapped it, and
there was a head. All the features were perfect, and
the head that of an old man was reduced to a
quarter its natural size. It was less gruesome and un-
pleasant than might be supposed, because it did not
really give the impression of ever having been part of
a person.

I asked how he had come by it, and he said that it
had been given to him by a friend who travelled ex-
tensively in the interior, and who had procured it from
an Indian belonging to one of the head-hunting tribes.

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'Heads are becoming quite expensive nowadays/ he
said, 'especially white ones. This friend of mine has
seen a very fine specimen of a reduced white missionary.
That would be worth a good deal*

We asked whether these tribes infested any parts of
the country through which we were likely to pass on
our way to Quito, and he said that they sometimes
came to trade at a place called Bands, which could be
reached by taking a car from Riobamba to Quito, and
making a slight detour. The place, he added, was
worth visiting for other reasons, one being that it was
beautiful, and another that it had hot springs and a
waterfall which eventually turned into the river
Amazon, So we determined to go there.

The whole afternoon was devoted to having our
photographs taken and retrieving our passports from
the police court.

We spent Sunday very pleasantly with an agreeable
young man from the shipping office to whom we had
a letter of introduction from V*H. He showed us the
sights and came out with us in the launch, and in the
evening he took us to a cinema and supper. Next
morning soon after five he called for us at our hotel
and saw us, with our rucksacks (for we had left the
suitcases behind), into the train for Qjiito.
4 We spent twelve hours in the train which wound its
way up into the mountains through the most wonder-
ful country I had ever seen. Great forests, rivers,
gorges, plains, volcanoes the beauty and grandeur
of Ecuador defies description, and unlike the majority
of people who make use of the expression, I shall not
immediately proceed to try and describe it.

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There were two well-dressed South American
women in the carriage who were a constant source of
interest and astonishment to us, for although they
must, by their labels, have been travelling together
for some time, they were so engrossed in each other
that they never even glanced out of the window at the
much more remarkable wonders of nature that were
passing before their eyes. Rachel and I thought it
extremely odd.

At a station called Riobamba, over nine thousand
feet up in the mountains, the train came to a standstill,
and disgorged its contents, most of whom found their
way into the hotel near the railway station.

We had taken the precaution of wiring for rooms
from Guayaquil and were most thankful that we had
done so, for people were being turned away by the
dozen. While I was standing in the hall, warming my-
self at the stove, I saw the elder of the two strange
women in the train approaching me with the look in
her eye that betokens an introduction. No doubt she
was one of the unwary ones who had neglected to
engage a room, and might even, on the strength of
having travelled for twelve hours in a carriage with
me, be going to suggest that she shared mine.

This would not do at all, I felt, so I bolted, and
remained in the safety of my room until a waiter
knocked at the door and presented me with a visiting
card, on which was written in Spanish the name of
someone I had never heard of in my life.

I went downstairs full of curiosity, and found a
young man in the hall. He introduced himself in very
good English, and said that his friend of the Air Line

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in Guayaquil had wired to him announcing our
arrival, and that he and another friend, who was
waiting outside in the car, would be only too delighted
to do anything they could to make our stay agreeable.

I went upstairs and fetched Rachel, and he went
outside and fetched his friend, and we all had dinner
together, and after it was over they took us out in
their car to see the sights.

It was exceedingly cold out of doors, and we were
unprepared, so when the first young man suggested
that we should go to his house and dance to the
gramophone, we all thought it an excellent idea.

A short drive brought us there. We went in, and
while we rolled up the rugs, and looked through the
records, our host disappeared into the kitchen and
came back with food and many bottles of drink.

We had a delightful evening. One of the men
turned out to be an admirable tango dancer. We
danced and .danced, and drank each others' healths,
and danced again until the clock on the mantelpiece
struck three, and we felt that it was time to go home,
for we had had a long day in the train and the prospect
of a long day on the road. A car had been ordered,
and was to be at the hotel at nine o'clock next morn-
ing. Our lunch, too, in the form of sandwiches, was
to be ready in the hall at the same time.

When the morning came we felt that there was only
one really desirable thing on earth, and that was for
us to go on being in bed, but we knew that it would
not do, so we got up and dressed, put back our night
attire and toothbrushes into the rucksacks, and went
down to breakfast. After breakfast we paid the bill

44

THE SPANISH MAIN

and put new films into the cameras, and then it was
time to start.

We started. The young men of the preceding night
had come to see us off and to exact promises that we
would wire them the date and time of our return.
Very soon they vanished in a cloud of dust. So did the
hotel. So, after an appreciable time, did Riobamba.
The sun streamed down; the sky was unbelievably
blue, It was a gorgeous day! And the scenery!
Rachel and I sat in our car rather a grand one, but
unfortunately closed and gasped. Never had we
seen anything so exhilaratingly beautiful. We were
ten thousand feet up, and still mounting. The light
was as clear and as dancingly bright as it always is in
high places. Tall eucalyptus trees and crooked tele-
graph poles lined the roadway; gaily dressed Indians
riding on horses, or leading their laden donkeys passed
us by, and once we met a very old woman trudging
along the road with an immense bundle of brushwood
on her back. Her face was lined and impassive. She
pursued her way unquestioningly, looking neither to
the left nor to the right.

'Strange,' I thought as I watched her. C I am so
intensely aware of you at this moment, with your
curious hat, and your worn face, and your bundle of
wood. Yet in a few seconds you will be gone . . . You
are here . . . and you are not here . . . How can this
be? . . .'

I pondered this interesting but insoluble problem
until we turned a corner, and Rachel gave evidence
that she at any rate was there by prodding me with
her elbow.

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'Do lookF she said, pointing straight ahead. "That
must be ChimborazoP

It was, and we realized that in a short time we
should be driving over its slopes. Perhaps, I thought,
with some excitement, we shall be able to touch the
snow. But Rachel said that she doubted it, and that
the lowest point was probably higher than it looked.
From previous experience I knew that this was often
true.

Quite suddenly we stopped, and the driver began
searching anxiously in his pockets and in the pockets
of the car. We asked what the matter was*

'I am afraid,' he said, 'that I have left behind in
Riobamba a most important key. It has locked the
dickey in which are the spare tins of petrol and the
tools. I dare not go on without it,*

So back we went to Riobamba, and when we got
there the driver found the key in a distant pocket that
he had overlooked. Another hour elapsed before we
were back at the place where the loss was discovered,
and as we had already admired the scenery we now gave
our full attention to the Indians we passed on the road.

They were short, and both the men and the women
(who were sometimes indistinguishable) looked strong
and healthy. The men wore brightly coloured
ponchos and sheepskin trousers or long skirts. Many
had pigtails hanging down their backs. The women
were usually dressed in heavy voluminous skirts, and
each one had on several vivid shawls. Both men and
women wore curious hats with upturned brims.
Whether they were made of straw or felt we were not
close enough to ascertain.

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THE SPANISH MAIN

I should like to know the origin of these hats. Did
the Incas wear them, and if so, why? Are they designed
with these strange brims in order to carry things in
them, or for what the Chinese call 'Looksee', or as in-
verted umbrellas to keep off the rain . . - But this can-
not be the reason, we decided, as we reached and
passed the place of the lost key, for surely it never rains
in Ecuador!

We reached Banos at one, having spent an interest-
ing, but not entirely agreeable hour crossing the slopes
of Chimborazo. At this point the road was 14,000
feet high, so the driver told us, and the result of the
height was that it became bitterly cold, and all my
teeth began separately to ache. An icy wind blew
round the car, and the ash and particles of lava from
the volcanoes got in through the cracks of the windows
and made us choke. We then remembered that our
friends in Riobamba had told us that it was on account
of this that all the cars are closed.

We saw some Indians Toad-making. They were all
heavily wrapped up, and their houses looked like hay-
stacks. The women and many of the men who were
not working on the road walked along carrying and
working a kind of distaff. They seemed happy and
amiable, and smiled at us as we passed.

Shortly after leaving Chimborazo behind us we
turned off the main road to Quito and followed the
road to Banos. In spite of having only recently been
made, the surface was extremely uneven; however,
we were glad of it in any state, for had we wished to
reach Bands a few months earlier we should have had
to pick our perilous way along a bridle path.

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Some five miles beyond Banos we came to a place
called Agoyan, and incidentally, the end of the road.
Here we alighted with our parcel of lunch, and sent the
car back to Banos, telling the driver to feed himself,
and return in an hour's time.

And now for lunch! We selected a convenient place
in the sun and out of the wind, sat down on the ground,
and opened the lunch parcel. It was a pleasant
moment, for we were exceedingly hungry.

First came rolls (not very interesting), then bananas,
then two bottles of beer . . . But where were the egg
sandwiches?

'Surely,' I said to Rachel, and Rachel to me, 'you
remembered to order the egg sandwiches! 3

We were quite sure that we had, and we were right,
fot the rolls, on inspection, were found to have fried
eggs wedged into them.

We ate, and when we had eaten our fill, and had
lain for a while digesting it, we got up and went to
explore the neighbourhood.

The huge fall about which we had heard from the
man at the Scadta office was a magnificent sight,
dashing headlong into a gorge many hundreds of feet
below. We took a number of photographs of it, and of
ourselves, and then we continued along the road, and
climbed a precipitous path into the mountains to see
if we could catch sight of a head hunter. But there
wasn't a sign of one. There wasn't a sign of anything
but rocks and peaks, and the path was very steep, so
we climbed down again, and #s we reached the road
a little cavalcade of Indians appeared round a bend.

They made a remarkable and beautiful picture, this

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THE SPANISH MAIN

brilliant little crowd, against the sombre background
of the mountains, and we would have liked to photo-
graph them, but refrained, in case they should con-
sider it impolite:

Rachel called my attention to the large bales slung
athwart the backs of the donkeys.

'Do you suppose, 3 she suggested, c that they might
contain reduced heads?'

I looked at them with a new interest, and was
instantly struck by something else.

'Rachel, 3 I said with some anxiety, c do you feel
all right? 3

'Perfectly, 3 she replied, 'why?'

'Well, do I seem to you to be in a normal condition?'

She said with less certainty that I was much as usual.
'But why? 3 she asked again, 'what's the matter?' "

'Look at those donkeys, and if you don't see some-
thing very peculiar about them, I've drunk too much
beer. 3

'Good heavens! 3 she exclaimed, 'you are right! . . .
There is something odd about them. ... I don't be-
lieve they are donkeys at all ... They have got woolly
coats. . . .'

'And what a haughty, disagreeable expression!'

'Perhaps they are young camels . . .'

'Can 3 t be. Camels aren't found in South America,
and anyway these creatures haven't got humps.'

'What on earth can they be?'

We both felt that we had seen them before but
where?

And then it began to dawn on us ... Little carts . . .
The zoo . . .

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They're llamas!* we exclaimed simultaneously,
'that's what they are!'

Llamas! This was the most interesting thing that
had happened to us since we started out on our
travels. Llamas, so to speak, in the raw, and being
used, too, quite casually as beasts of burden:!

'Did you know that llamas came from South
America? 5

Rachel admitted that she didn't 'But I might
have,* she said, 'because of the rhyme:

"The llamas that grew on the plains of Peru".'

I repeated it to myself. It didn't sound quite right.
However, it wasn't worth arguing about* We watched
them until they had passed out of sight, then returned
to the luncheon place expecting to find the car waiting
for us. But there was nothing there,

Time comes to mean very little in South America,
but when two and a half hours had gone by and there
was still no sign of the car, we began to think that the
driver must have driven over a precipice or be carous-
ing in a bar. Either contingency was unpleasant, for
here were we, two lone young females, in a remote
mountain pass, surrounded, we felt increasingly sure,
by hordes of unpleasant head hunters, who would, as
soon as darkness fell, spring out from behind rocks and
make a mess of us, and our sole means of protection
were the empty beer bottles; we were even bereft of
the dictionary, for it had been left in the car. It was a
most awkward situation.

'What a pity,' said Rachel, 'that you never managed
to finish making that will of yours.'

I was annoyed at this because she had made the

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THE SPANISH MAIN

same joke several times before, and it was never a very
good one even before it began to wear thin.

'And what a pity you didn't profit by your Girl
Guide motto, and remember to take the dictionary
out of the car. 5

Rachel was annoyed at that because of the way I
said 'Girl Guide 5 . A silence ensued, which was finally
broken by the blessed sound of the horn, and our long
lost car dashed round the corner. It was a relief to see
it, but rather annoying to be compelled to wait until
we had got in and extracted the dictionary from the
rucksack before we could mark our displeasure with
the driver and inquire why he had remained away for
three hours instead of one. He said probably un-
trulythat something had gone wrong with the
brakes, and that he had had to have it put right.

I cannot remember much about the rest of the way
to Quito except that it was all very beautiful and
striking so striking that at one place on a plateau
we got out of the car to take photographs of Gotopaxi,
which stands, like Fujiyama, grandly apart from its
fellows.

'Do you realize,' I said to Rachel, 'that you are
looking at one of the highest volcanoes in the world? 5

'Yes, 5 she answered, 'I do, and look what's behind
you. 5

I turned, and saw that a crowd of cattle, any one
of which might turn out to be a bull, was approaching
through a gap in the hedge. So I jumped hastily into
the car and told the man to drive on. And that is
why the only good photograph of Cotopaxi was taken
with Rachel's camera.

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We reached Quito late that night in a thunder-
storm. We were stiff, and rather irritable with tired-
ness, and longing to see for a short time at least
the last of one another, so that when we were told that
the only accommodation left in the hotel was a double
bedroom, I stuck in my heels, I would sleep in the
passage or the bath, but I would sleep alone.

Seeing that I was adamant the proprietor promised
that a bed should be made up in the sitting-room that
adjoined the bedroom. We went in and inspected the
rooms. There was only one washing basin. Now if
there is one thing about which I feel really strongly it
is the necessity for separate washing basins. Sharing
is both barbarous and unpleasant. And I said so. Here
was a real difficulty. All the basins in the hotel were
the kind that are fixed into the wall, and that go with
Hot and Cold. At last it was arranged that I should
use an unoccupied bathroom farther down the passage.

All this time we were standing arguing in the double
room, and Rachel was becoming more and more
annoyed. She hasn't the same feeling about basins as
I have, and she wanted to rest. At last the matter was
settled, and we retired, and when we had rested in our
separate rooms, and had had hot baths, and joined
again for dinner, peace was re-established.

We spent three delightful days in Quito. On the
first day we walked about the town and up and down
the narrow crowded streets. Strange looking Indians
in ponchos and pigtails were there, and Spanish
women in black with pieces of lace on their heads. In
many of the streets yards of brightly coloured material
were hung outside the shops. Rachel and I entered

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most of these shops in order to try and buy me a
coloured handkerchief to tie round my neck. c Tiene
us ted un gran panuelos con todo colores?' I would ask
over and over again. But they never had.

We found a church with beautiful cloisters leading
out of it and were implored by a monk, who came
running towards us, to go away at once, as women
were not allowed in the monastery. We saw a Jesuit
church, the facade of which is covered with elaborate
carving; we saw a beautiful old archway. We became
very hot and breathless walking up hills, and then,
when the sun set we became so cold that we had to
return to our hotel and have hot baths.

The sudden change of temperature after sunset is
astonishing if you don't expect it. We knew before we
went to Quito that it was on the equator and there-
fore, likely to be hot, but we had overlooked the fact
that its great height and proximity to snow-covered
mountains were equally likely to make it cold as soon
as the sun went down.

Next day I had my hair cut, and it led to important
developments, for as I sat in the barber's shop on the
ground floor of the hotel with a sheet tied round my
neck, a large American strode up and seized me
warmly by the hand.

'You are American, of course,' he said.

I replied without emphasis that I wasn't.

c Well, never mind. It's v all the same. My name is
Clarkson, and I would like to present my friend Mr.
Alfonzo Cortez, who is anxious to make your acquain-
tance. Now I must be off got to catch the train so
long!'

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He departed in the manner of a whirlwind, and I
was left with the young man called Mr. Cortez. He
bowed.

'Excuse me, Miss/ he said in very tolerable English,
'I see that you are a foreigner, and I am interested to
encourage the visits of tourists. I am a Senator the
youngest Senator in Ecuador. Will you do me the
honour to permit me to escort you round Quito, and
to show you the most interesting things? 3

All this time the barber was shearing the back of my
head, and I was anxious to see what he was doing, so
thinking that it was the quickest way to freedom, I
thanked the senator and said that I should be very
pleased to see him later, but that at the moment I was
engaged.

'I and my friends will call for you after lunch/ he
said, and withdrew.

As soon as the barber had done his worst I raced
upstairs to Rachel's room,

'What do you suppose has happened?' I asked.

She was writing a letter. 'That you have had your
hair cut/ she replied laconically.

c Not at all. IVe caught a senator, and he is coming
this afternoon to take us out. 5

He came and brought with him no fewer than three
other young men, one of whom was an American and
most attractive. It was he in the end who saw the
most of us, for he had a car and used to take us for
drives about the town and the surrounding country.
He also had the inestimable advantage of being able
to speak and understand English. On our last night
he drove us to a hillside behind Quito, on which he

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was building a house. It was a moonlit night; the
trees stood out dark and mysterious, and the world
about us was bathed in loveliness. Later, we drove
back to Quito and went to his flat and danced. Before
leaving he gave me an Indian picture, painted on skin,
and a tin of mixed biscuits. To Rachel he gave a
black and red poncho because she had become very
cold sitting in the dickey with the senator.

Next morning at eight we boarded the train with
many regrets, and started off on the return journey to
Riobamba.

The railway took a different route from the road,
and the wild scenery through which we passed was
unrivalled in splendour. The train stopped at many
little wayside stations, and once it stopped where there
wasn't any station at all, only a windswept arid plain
and a placard which said that we were at an altitude
of 11,653 feet above the sea. In spite of the scorching
sun it was bitterly cold, and a merciless gale howled
round the train. From behind the closed windows we
looked at a couple of haystack huts, and an Indian
digging a hole in the ground . . . The train went on
and they were gone . . . Then at a station called
Ambato, laughing brown girls ran along the platform
holding up flowers and baskets of fruit. We bought
some strawberries and settled down happily to eat
them, and when Rachel had devoured four and I only
one, she remembered that she had heard of someone
who had died of eating strawberries in Sardinia, so
we sadly put the basket under the seat and hoped that
the harm was not already done.

We reached Riobamba in the evening in time to

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beautify ourselves before going out to dine with the
men we had met on the previous visit. During dinner
we were joined by two senators (Ecuador, we thought,
seems to swarm with senators) and a barrister. Un-
fortunately none of them could speak English, so we
had to converse by means of signs or through an inter-
preter. They deplored the absence of tourists and
asked whether Rachel and I could suggest any way of
attracting them.

'Remove some of your restrictions for visitors/ we
said. 'Make it less impossible for them to get in.'

c AlasP they replied, 'that is the one thing we can-
not do, for if we did, revolutionaries might get in
too. 5

We agreed that this would not do at all.

Next morning we rose most unwillingly at a quarter-
past five in order to catch the train at six. We caught
it, and descended at Guayaquil in the evening. The
following morning we rose again at a quarter-past five,
and were transported in a launch to a seaplane which
was resting on the river. We climbed aboard on to the
wing and into the cabin. It was like a little coup car,
just room for four with a squeeze. We were glad to
find that we were the only passengers.

We settled ourselves in comfortably; then the pro-
peller began to revolve, the noise of the engine rose to
a roar, and we started to move along the water . . .
Faster and faster! . . . We seemed to be going at about
a thousand miles a minute . . . We were clear of the
water . . . No, there it was again . . . Bump . . . bump
. . . bump . . . Now we were racing along at an un-
believable speed; the bumps became rarer , . . ceased

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altogether, and we rose into the air. Higher and
higher! Now the harbour and the little town of
Guayaquil were far below us. We looked back at the
mountains from among which we had come, then
forward at the grey wastes of the Pacific, and when
we turned again there was nothing whatever to be
seen but a white mass of clouds, rising bank upon
bank. Ecuador had become a memory.

We flew and flew, for hours and hours. Sometimes
we flew low, just above the sea, and the pilot would
point out schools of porpoises, their shiny rolling backs
visible for a moment before they sank again below the
surface; and sometimes we flew high above the clouds,
and there was nothing to be seen but ourselves and the
sky. On these occasions I usually fell asleep.

Near midday we swooped down, and landed on a
river in order to drop papers and pick up petrol. The
pilot told us that we should not be leaving for half an
hour, so that if we would like to land and have a look
at the village there was plenty of time to do so.

I cannot remember much about it except that it was
all very sunny, and a crowd of negro and^ Indian chil-
dren gazed at us with interest as we passed. In some
way we became acquainted with a man, who took us
to his house, and gave us biscuits and vermouth, and
when we went away he gave us another bottle of it to
cheer us on our journey.

We walked back to the river, climbed aboard the
plane, got into the cabin, slammed the door, and flew
away into the sky.

For the next few hours we kept close to the shore.
We saw an oil field, stretching like a blight back from

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the coast. It was strangely incongruous, an ugly
grimy thing against the untouched majesty of the
surrounding country. I looked down at it with dis-
taste. 'Continue your pathetic little busyness/ I
thought. The land will remain, a grand, indifferent
conqueror, long after you have crumbled into dust,
and have been swept away as utterly as though you
had never been you nasty, ugly, stupid little disease.'
This gave me considerable satisfaction.

We passed over forests and inlets of the sea, and a
wild desolate tract of country with rivers winding
across its face. We saw strange Indian dwellings built
out on the water on rafts and piles; we saw a little ship
sailing on the sea.

At five o'clock we landed on the river at Buena-
ventura, and stepped ashore with relief, for we had
been more than ten hours in the air, and felt stiff and
cramped. A dozen young Germans met us on the
pier, and escorted us up to the aviation club, where
we were given tea, and cocktails, and were danced
with, and finally taken across the river in a launch and
deposited at the Estacion Hotel. We engaged a couple
of rooms and retired to them, and when we came down
later to the dining-room we found several of the men
waiting for us. I think that Rachel and I were some-
thing of a novelty, for Buenaventura has few distrac-
tions of any sort, and none in the way of white female
society. Certainly nothing could have exceeded the
warmth of their welcome. We got to bed with diffi-
culty at half-past twelve, and I got out of it with still
more difficulty next morning at five. I dressed and
packed, and went along the passage to No. 22, which

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was Rachel's room, to see whether she was ready to
come down to breakfast.

There was no reply to my knock, so I called to her
through the door and asked whether she was dressed
and packed, for the train was due to leave in twenty-
five minutes.

Tar from being dressed, 5 she answered in a sleepy
voice, 'I am afraid that I am still in bed, because I was
insufficiently called and went to sleep again. 5

I controlled my indignation. c Well, you'd better hurry
if you want to catch the train that I am going by.*

'Oh! don't you worry, Pll catch it all right. You
go down and order breakfast, and pay the bill, and Til
join you in five minutes. 5

The astonishing part of the story is that she did.

The train climbed up into the mountains and we
gazed with interest out of the window. The scenery-
was very magnificent, on a vaster scale than Ecuador,
though individual peaks there are higher. But we
preferred Ecuador. Indeed the longer we remained
in Colombia the more we preferred Ecuador. It was
so much stranger there, more colourful, and at least a
quarter as expensive. We found that for what we
paid a sucre (a shilling) in Ecudaor we paid a dollar
in Colombia.

It was depressing to have to get up at five next
morning (the fourth morning running), but there was
no avoiding it for the train left at six for a place called
Armenia. Here, we were told, we should have to
alight, as the train went no farther, and drive across
the mountains to Ibague. Nobody knew at what time
we should get there.

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At six o'clock, therefore, we were settled in the
train, with our luggage in the rack and the luncheon
basket under the seat. The carriage, like every other
carriage we had been in since we came to South
America, was of the Pullman variety. Its uncomfort-
able wooden seats held two, and it was full of chatter-
ing, excited Colombians.

Gali is situated on an apparently illimitable plain.
It goes on and on. Hours later we were still on it, and
showed no sign of ever getting off. There was nothing
to be seen in any direction but more plain. 'The
Siberian steppes must be something like this/ I
thought, and went on to wonder whether it was in-
habited, and if the inhabitants resembled Siberians.
Toor people, 5 I decided, c in any case! 5

The train stopped at a wayside station and waited
there for nearly an hour, and for no other reason, we
felt sure, than to annoy the passengers, for there was
not a soul to be seen on the platform, and nobody
wanted to get out. Had it not been for a hacienda
and corral standing a hundred yards back from the
railway we should have believed the place to be
deserted.

The sun streamed hotly down on the roof of the
train and in through the windows; flies buzzed lazily
against the panes of glass ... the passengers slept. . . .

I went to the door of the carriage and looked out
at the plain. What tranquillity! What unbounded
freedom! A bell clanged faintly; in the distance some-
one was playing upon a flute. The sounds rose isolated
and significantly out of the desolation. It was beautiful
beautiful.

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Once again I felt, as I had felt when I was in the
Sahara, an overwhelming sense of Tightness a rap-
turous consummation. Where the landscape is broken
by trees, rocks, hills, the attention is distracted. You
admire, or you do not. In either case unless the
admiration is so great as to obscure everything else,
you are conscious of an irritation with these details
that get between you and the something you must
reach. They are small agitating objects, you feel,
powerless and unimportant, that you could easily
demolish if you were to take the trouble. Only when
you are alone on a desert with nothing about you but
the flat earth and the sky, do you feel this rightness,
and with it a rising exhilaration, a sense of abiding
peace, for here at last is the ultimate reality. You have
done with refuge and protection, with the fearful
hugging of illusion; you are face to face with that which
you dreaded as emptiness, and the strange thing is that
you are not appalled at its immensity; you are not
even afraid, for rising strong over everything else is
the knowledge of its essential rightness, and of the
rightness of the relation between you and it.

The train gave a lurch, and we were off again, and
when we had left the plain behind us and had wan-
dered up into the mountains for a couple of hours, the
railway line reached its conclusion and we got out.

My recollections of Armenia are hazy. The princi-
pal things that stand out are oxen toiling up the street;
a house with a dark steep staircase, where we had
lunch, and a proprietress who astonishingly spoke
German.

After lunch we entered the car, and started to climb

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higher into the mountains. The scenery was more
magnificent than ever; vast mountain sides covered
with forests; valleys and ravines so profound that you
could barely see to the bottom. At one part of the
drive we went very high indeed and were conscious
of a feeling of pride, but on consideration I do not
think that it can have been as high as the slopes of
Chimborazo, because my teeth did not ache. We
reached Ibague after dark, and that night an appalling
thing happened we discovered that we had lost the
suitcases.

It happened in this way. At Armenia there were
very few cars and a great many people to go in them.
Rachel and I secured places for ourselves, but there
was no room for the luggage. c Never mind,' said the
driver, e l will put them in the van 9 (he indicated it)
'and they will reach Ibague as soon as we do/ He
put them in, and that was the last we saw of them.
At dinner they had still not arrived. We agreed as to
a puncture and refused to be agitated. A young
American came up while we were eating and said that
he had been in the train or trains with us ever
since Buenaventura, and introduced himself on the
strength of it. After dinner we all three went to the
cinema to see a South American film, because we
thought that it might take our minds off the suitcases
and because I had heard that South American films
were sometimes very improper. But this one wasn't.
It was the dullest and most expurgated film I ever
saw, and we left in disgust at midnight, long before
the end.

On the way back to the hotel we asked our new

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acquaintance whether we were right in supposing
that the train left for Bogota next morning at six. He
said that it did, and we sighed resignedly. Did he
think that the suitcases would be at the hotel when
we got back? ('Half a crown/ I promised St. Anthony,
'if they are. 5 )

But they weren't, and now our agitation knew no
bounds. Fools that we had been, we thought (each
thinking that the other had been a greater fool), to
have left them out of our sight in so savage a country
as Colombia! If we went to Bogota next morning
without them we should certainly never see them
again. If, on the other hand, we waited for the next
train (days later), we should rniss the aeroplane, and
miss the boat, and heaven only knew when we should
reach civilization. (By this time we thought of British
Guiana as civilization.) The situation was as bad as it
could be. Rachel and I were agreed as to that. We
sat on the edge of my bed, and so great was our per-
turbation that we consumed the whole tin of mixed
biscuits that the American in Quito had given me
without even noticing that we were eating them. I
was in a worse case than Rachel, for I had no pyjamas
and no sponge bag; nothing, in fact, but my diary and
the flit gun. We vowed that if we got the suitcases
back we would never let them out of our sight for a
single second, and I privately raised St. Anthony
another two and six, making the offer five shillings
in all.

At last we went miserably to bed, and, though we
did not expect it, to sleep, for the next thing I knew was
that I was being wakened by the vigorous calling of the

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maid. I woke to a poisoned world something dis-
agreeable had happened what could it be? And
then I remembered, and immediately sat bolt upright
in bed.

'Rachel!' I called through the wall, 'I can't remem-
ber the word for suitcase. Ask if they have arrived.'

There was a pause, then conversation, then another
pause. Presumably the maid had gone to find out.
A few minutes later she returned with the joyful news
that the suitcases had come and were standing in the
hall.

It was a most blessed relief. We rushed across the
patio to make sure that they were there. They were.
We roused the porter but elicited very little informa-
tion from him. They had been left, he said crossly, by
a man. No explanation was given and to this day we
do not know how and where they spent the night, or
in what company. It was enough for us that the locks
had evidently withstood any assaults that might have
been made on them by persons with dishonourable
intentions. There is a lot, we decided, to be said for
locks.

Twelve hours later we were in Bogota.

'What shall we do to-morrow?' we asked each other
as we parted for the night.

'We won't get up at five o'clock,' we answered in
unison; nor did we.

It is strange that details should stick in the memory
and important matters fade away like a dream. I
have looked Bogota up in the Encyclopaedia Britannica
and I see that it has 'handsomely laid out plazas
ornamented with gardens and statuary', and that

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'streams of cool fresh water from the mountains run
through its streets 5 . But I do not remember a thing
about it except that there was a most amusing South
American family, man, wife and daughter, in our hotel,
who sat near us in the dining-room and afforded us
the liveliest entertainment.

The wife and husband were elderly, she dark and
stout and beetle-browed, he melancholy and down-
trodden. The daughter was quiescent because she
was extremely young, but showed signs of taking after
her mother in later life.

I have read somewhere that in Latin countries
particularly Spain and Italy women never question
male supremacy. It may be so, but the more I see of
elderly Latin women the harder I find it to believe.
In this particular case the woman did not question
her husband's supremacy. She simply took her own
for granted. The wretched man could barely call his
soul his own. He was browbeaten and bullied,
ordered here and there, told what he must eat and
what he could not. On one occasion she whisked a dish
away from under his very nose and he looked as if he
were going to cry.

On the evening before our departure (we remained
in Bogota three days) we received notices from the
police requesting our passports and two photographs
apiece. It was altogether too annoying. We had
already been pestered at Cartagena and had wasted a
great many hours on tiresome officials. In addition to
this I had mislaid the spare photographs, so we
decided to risk imprisonment and run away; and this
we did by train on the following afternoon.

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In the evening we reached an odious, pestiferous
little hole on the Magdalena river and spent there one
of the most unpleasant nights of my life. The hotel
was dark, airless, and dirty, and the heat was intense.
I did not attempt to get into bed that night it was
far too risky so I spread my ground sheet on the
floor and lay on that. Very early next morning we
paid the bill and thankfully departed.

The aeroplane was waiting for us, but before we
climbed into it our two small suitcases and ruck-
sacks were weighed and we were asked to pay seventy-
four pesos (nearly sixteen pounds) on excess weight.
Considering the fact that we had already paid twenty-
five pounds each for our tickets, this last extortion was
altogether and in every sense too much. But there was
nothing for it but to pay, for on one side lay last night's
hotel, and on the other Bogota and the police.

At exactly six o'clock we soared up into the air. As
usual Rachel and I were the only passengers, and glad
we were of it, for very soon after we had started it
began to be bumpy and I was afraid that I was going
to be sick. I told the pilot so and asked whether he
could do anything about it.

1 will fly higher,' he shouted over his shoulder; did
so, and all was well.

That flight was dearly bought, but it was certainly
a wonderful experience. The sun came up over the
Andes while we flew above them. Beneath us stretched
the wildest and most desolate country imaginable.

During the morning we landed on the river and
changed into a smaller plane. Then up we flew again,
higher and higher. The earth lay far beneath us, with

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innumerable rivers winding over its face. Soon after
one o'clock we sighted Barranquilla, and in the
distance the Caribbean Sea; and dropped practically
straight down from over seven thousand feet to sea
level. As we came down I put my hand out of the
window and felt the cold air becoming warm and then
hot as we swooped on to the water and finally came to
rest near the pier.

We climbed out of the aeroplane in a dazed con-
dition. We were stiff, and for the first few minutes
completely deaf, but we soon recovered. V.H. had
come to meet us and escorted us up to the hotel,
where we spent the remainder of the day resting and
telling each other of all the adventures that had be-
fallen us since last we met. (Rachel and I were
annoyed to learn that we had only just missed a little
revolution, which had been happening in Barran-
quilla until the day before our arrival. Guns had gone
off, and the streets, if not exactly swimming in blood,
were at least highly unsafe for walking purposes.)

The ensuing week had its moments, but they were
rare and almost entirely spoilt by the fact that I
suddenly developed a violent cold in the head and
felt exceedingly ill and bad tempered.

On Tuesday morning we rose at four-thirty and
flew down to Santa Marta on the coast. It is the oldest
town in South America, and no doubt I should have
found it interesting if I had been able to do anything
but lie miserably on a bard, shiny, horsehair sofa in the
little hotel, while Rachel and V.H. went to the shipping
office and bought our tickets to Trinidad.

The ship sailed in the afternoon. We went aboard,

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and stood for a while on deck and watched the
bananas being shipped until the siren gave a warning
blow, and V.H. went ashore and stood solitarily on
the pier, waving his handkerchief until we disappeared
into the horizon.

It is sometimes said of banana boats that the only
passengers who receive any attention are the bananas,
but I found this to be quite untrue. The ship could
not have been better run or more comfortable, and
the steward and stewardess, who, fortunately, had
both been hospital nurses, were unusually kind and
attentive.

My cold became worse and worse. My head
throbbed, my eyes stung, my throat was sore, I felt
sick, and deaf, and every bone in my body ached. I
doubted whether I should live, However, after three
days at sea, and in bed, I began to feel a little better,
and when we reached Trinidad on the afternoon of the
fourth day, I got up, and found that the cold had
gone.

It was strange to see the harbour of Trinidad once
more, remembering all the places we had seen since
we left it, and it was with a certain melancholy that
we realized as we stepped ashore that our experiences
on the Spanish Main had come to an end.

CHAPTER III

THE ISLANDS

WE landed; and when we had collected the heavy
luggage from the customs, we put it on a donkey cart,
and proceeded to the office of the Dutch Line. Here
we found the kit bag, which we put on the donkey
cart with the luggage, and went on to the bank, where
we found a cable from Georgetown saying that a good
deal still remained to be done in the matter of fixing
up the expedition, and that there was no need for us
to hurry. There were also a number of letters for both
of us, including a writ for Rachel. We stuffed them
into our pockets and continued up the main street,
out of the town and on to the Savannah, and looked
about us. It was our first really tropical looking island,
and we were both delighted with it.

The sun shone out of a cloudless sky; palm trees
swayed gently in the light wind, birds with brilliant
plumage chattered gaily among the branches, and the
world was bright with oleanders, hibiscus, poncianas
and pride of Barbados.

'This/ we thought, c is heaven! Why does anyone
ever live anywhere but in the tropics?" which brought
to our minds the more or less important fact that we,
at the moment, had nowhere at all to live, as every
hotel was full.

We searched directories, and discovered that a
certain Mrs. Sparrow kept a boarding house. Accord-
ingly I rang her up on the telephone.

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A voice, obviously belonging to a coloured person,
answered.

'Are you Mrs. Sparrow?' I asked.

'No,' it replied, 'I am Mrs. Sparrow's mother.'

'And you keep a boarding house? 5

'Ye-es,' rather hesitatingly.

'Well, do you happen to have two single rooms dis-
engaged?'

She said she had, so off we went, followed by the
donkey cart piled high with our twenty pieces of
luggage.

The car stopped in front of a charming house set
in a garden. We got out and rang the bell. No answer,
so we rang again, and as there was still no answer we
entered. There in the dining-room sat an invalid lady.
We asked politely whether Mrs. Sparrow was at home.

She looked at us with suspicion, and said that Mrs.
Sparrow was out.

c ls Mrs. Sparrow's mother in?'

She looked at us with increasing suspicion and said
'No.'

'Odd! I have just been speaking to her on the tele-
phone, and she told me that she had two single rooms
free. Is this by any chance a boarding house?'

Yes, it was a boarding house, the lady replied, and
added that she could not understand how Mrs.
Sparrow could have said that she had two single rooms
free, as she, the lady, knew for a positive fact that she,
Mrs. Sparrow, had not. There were only six rooms
altogether, and they were all full of people who were
quite likely to remain there for ever.'

I was amazed, and so was Rachel.

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THE ISLANDS

The lady had meanwhile decided that we were
knowable, and became full of helpful suggestions.
She told us that Mrs. Sparrow had gone into the town
to buy vegetables. We therefore looked out, and rang
up every vegetable shop in Port of Spain, and at last
we tracked her down.

This time an entirely different voice answered. It
claimed, however, to belong to Mrs. Sparrow. She
said that she could not understand the situation as she
had no vacant rooms, but that she would return
immediately. So we sat down and waited.

In a short time she appeared, young, charming,
and no more coloured than I am. We shook hands,

'You say that I spoke to you on the telephone and
told you that I had two rooms vacant?' she asked.

'No,' I replied, 'it was your mother . . .'

c But I have no mother,' she said, completely
mystified, 'and I assure you that I have spoken to
nobody about rooms this morning.'

We were all amazed. But undoubtedly she was
speaking the truth, and there was her veranda literally
stacked with our luggage. To further complicate
matters, Rachel's bottle of coco-nut oil had leaked
all through Glemenceau's autobiography on to the
floor.

Everyone was full of apologies, she for not having
rooms, we for the oil, the luggage, and for causing a
disturbance. Then we all said, 'Not at all,' and re-
lapsed into a gloomy silence. Really the idea of start-
ing out all over again in the grilling sunshine to search
for rooms was too fatiguing. By now it was the middle
of the day, and everyone knows that there is only one

MORE PROFIT THAN GOLD

thing to be done with the middle of a tropical day, and
that is to go to sleep and forget all about it.

Mrs. Sparrow had an idea.

'Look here/ she suggested, 'why don't you go back
to the Palace Hotel and see whether they have any
rooms now. The ship has been in well over three
hours, and some of the people who booked rooms may
not have turned up. But if they Jjave, I have got a
room here without any furniture in it. If you could
procure a couple of camp beds we could easily put
them up there. 3

We thanked her, and went back to the hotel. Sure
enough several persons had not turned up, and the
manager produced two dingy and depressing rooms at
the back. Their disadvantages were instantly apparent,
but not all their disadvantages. There was a steam
laundry opposite that roared as it washed, and poured
a cloud of smuts in through the open window (if you
shut it you stifled), there was a turkey farm immediately
below, and my mosquito curtain had holes in it.

But it was the turkeys that finally drove us out. All
day long they kept up a ceaseless gobbling. Before
many days had passed I had learned one fact about
turkeys. It is this. Their ardour does not, in common
with other warm blooded creaures, rise in the evening.
It is at its height at five-thirty a.m. They prove it
regularly, conclusively, and all together, and the up-
roar must be heard to be believed.

Rachel strolled into my room a few mornings after
our arrival.

c Noticed the turkeys?' she asked.

'Oh no! Ha^e you got a map of the world? 5

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THE ISLANDS

She, who always has everything, had one, so we
spread it out on the floor. We discovered Trinidad,
then a dot in the ocean to the north of it.

Inquiries showed it to be an island called Tobago.
A boat, so we were told by those who should know,
sailed to it once a week, on Saturdays, and came back
once in days, sometimes on Mondays, and sometimes
not.

It was believed by many to be the island on which
Robinson Crusoe was stranded. Nobody much else
seemed to have been there, but it was said to have
excellent bathing, and to be uninfested, at any rate
with tourists.

So there we went, and I strongly advise anyone in
search of a quiet, little visited, and very charming
island to go there too. But before going let him make
very sure that the Saturday on which he proposes to
leave Trinidad is the one on which the boat goes direct,
because it only does this on alternate weeks. On those
that are not alternate it goes a way that is very indirect
indeed.

More by good luck than good management we
started off on the right Saturday, and reached Tobago
many hours later in a battered condition.

The instant we landed we were surrounded by a
crowd of vociferating natives with cars for hire, each
one shouting that he and his car were cheaper, more
reliable, and generally superior to the car and person
of his neighbour.

We selected the quietest, and started off for our
destination, which was a place called Speyside on the
north of the island.

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Very soon all memories of past distress were for-
gotten in delight at our surroundings. Through
groves of coco-nut palms we went, past little native
villages basking contentedly in the sunshine, by
unfrequented coves, up into the mountains. The road
twisted and turned, and at each turn a new and still
more marvellous view burst upon our astonished gaze.
Far below lay the sea, crystal clear, serenely smiling,
and looking for all the world as though it did not know
what it was to be anything else.

Our enthusiasm began to know no bounds, and if
either of us had been addicted to clutching we would
certainly have clutched.

'If Trinidad,' we exclaimed, 'was Heaven (till it was
marred by the turkeys), what can this be? 3

The question was never decided, for at that moment
the car came to a standstill and the driver got out.

c What is the matter?' we asked.

'Speyside,' he replied, being a man of few words,
and indicating a very steep hill before us which
appeared to go on for ever.

'Couldn't you drive a bit nearer the house? 5

He was busy unstrapping the luggage.

c No, 3 he replied. Tath too narrow, no place to turn.'

Then he blew two piercing blasts on the horn and
started off on foot up the hill with a suitcase in either
hand. As we had no other choice but to remain
sitting in the car, and this plan seemed likely to lead
nowhere, we got out and followed him.

An unexpected bend in the path revealed the house
we were relieved and a woman hurryiug towards
us.

74

THE ISLANDS

We explained that we had arrived and hoped that
she had received the wire asking for rooms.

Yes, she had received the wire all right, but being
unable to ascertain from it whether .we were men or
women had taken it that we were men and put us in
the 'bachelors 5 quarters 5 .

The bachelors 5 quarters, she said, pointing acutely
down hill, were there. Did we mind sleeping out of
the main house, and by ourselves.

Of course we didn't mind. We were delighted; and
when we saw the bachelors 5 quarters we were more
delighted still.

A large shed had been slightly glorified, and par-
titioned off into several rooms, the doors of which
opened on to a wide veranda. In it was a hammock,
a large table, chairs, and a gramophone. Beyond it
lay the sea, so close that in the mornings very early I
used to roll straight out of bed into it, and I always
had an uncomfortable feeling that some fine day an
enterprising shark might roll straight out of it into my
bed, which would have been disconcerting for both
of us, particularly for me. But I anticipate. We are
still being shown into our rooms by Miss Johnson the
manageress. She indicates the way the shutters work,
tells us that dinner in the main house is at eight, and
breakfast in the shed whenever we want it. Then
trusting that we will be comfortable, departs. I have
noticed that one room is slightly larger than the other,
and has two windows, so placing my hat, bag, and
walking stick firmly on the bed I nobly offer the room
to Rachel, which she, with even greater nobility,
declines. Our driver is paid and dismissed, and we go

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outside to explore. From the shed there is a pathway
leading down through the palm trees to a delightful
little beach. We pick our way through fallen coco-nuts
on to the silver sand, strewn about with tropical shells.
The late afternoon sun striking the sea makes myriads
of diamonds. Little waves wash gently on the shore,

c Let us instantly/ we exclaim, 'bathe! Or rather
let us have tea first, and then bathe.'

So we had tea, and bathed, and rested, and dressed,
and went up to dinner; and on the way I encountered
two frogs of vast dimension that squatted in the middle
of the path, and would not move. They reminded me
of the fairy tale about the Frog Prince. Indeed it was
all very like a fairy tale. The night was alive with
unaccustomed sounds, and odorous with unaccustomed
scents. Fireflies darted about like jewels, and the full
moon shone down on a silver world.

I lay awake for hours that night, perhaps because of
the strangeness of hearing the sea breaking on the
shore* From the other side of the partition came a
smothered exclamation.

c Are you awake, Rachel?' I called gently.

c Yes,' she answered, C I am, and there is an army
of ants walking across my pillow.'

I suggested some remedy which presumably she
found successful for there was silence once more.

Outside the wind sighed in the trees; the frogs
croaked their last and were still. I lay and thought of
a number of things, grave and gay - turned from
one side to the other and the hours went by. It
was really too bad that everyone but me should be
sleeping unfair.

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THE ISLANDS

'I say, Rachel!' I called out through the partition.
'Are you awake?'

She slept. I heard her sleep.

Time went on passing until the sky began to pale in
the east. Clearly something drastic must be done. I
decided to go for a walk, so I slipped on a pair of
tennis shoes and went out into the night. I walked
several times round the shed, then down to the
deserted beach, and stood there for a long time listen-
ing to the surf breaking endlessly on the shore, while
the stars became fainter and fainter, and another day
began to spread gradually over the world.

Strange, that greyness of the early dawn the utter
stillness. In the far distance a cock crows.

I returned to the shed in an awed and subdued frame
of mind and decided to make my will. To this end a
pencil and several sheets of foolscap paper were pro-
cured, and I sat down at the table on the veranda.

'This is the last will and testament of 3 How hard
and uncomfortable the chair was! I might just as well
make my will in the hammock. Into the hammock I
went; and was awakened some time later by the
entrance of Suzannah, the black maid, bearing on her
head something that looked like a small coffin. The
sun streamed in through every chink and cranny of
the shed. Suzannah deposited the coffin, removed the
lid, and out came scrambled eggs, coffee, toast, butter,
marmalade, and a bunch of freshly picked bananas.

'Wake up Rachel!' I called out 'It is morning!
I am up! And breakfast is on the table!'

One day we were told that an island near by had
Birds of Paradise on it.

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We therefore ordered that a rowing boat should be
manned and ready shortly after lunch, and down we
went, at the appointed time, with cameras, to the
shore.

The sea was rough, and the boat could not come
close to the shore because it would, if it had, have been
swamped by waves. Instead, a large black pirate
stood waiting with arms akimbo, and announced that
he would carry us (one by one) to the boat.

We told him that we did not think that he would
enjoy it, as neither of us were feather weights, but he
assured us that on the contrary he would enjoy it very
much indeed, and that as far as weight was concerned,
he was the strongest man throwing out his chest
on the island, and frequently carried fat elderly men;
from which I gathered that the Bird of Paradise Island
had been visited before, and that the sea between it and
us was often rough, for although I knew that strange
things happen, I could hardly believe that he carried
fat elderly men about for fun.

Rough to-day it certainly was-i Mountainous waves
towered on every side, portions of them soaking us to
the skin. I was furious, because I felt sick, and quite
sure that we would be drowned. A fierce and swift
current successfully prevented the boat from pro-
gressing more than an inch an hour.

However we did at last reach the island, and
stopped, as we had started, some ten yards from the
shore.

The pirate stepped into the water, and waited with
outstretched arms to receive us, but as it was impossible
to become any wetter than we already were, and as the

78

THE BEACH AT TOBAGO

THE ISLANDS

mild aversion to being touched which I have at the
best of times is magnified a thousandfold when times
are not of the best, I declined his offer and waded
ashore by myself. Rachel, I believe, did the same, but
as I did not look back, I cannot be certain.

The voyage out had been unpleasant enough, but
that which came after was so unutterably more
unpleasant that everything else by comparison faded
into insignificance.

The Bird of Paradise Island rose a sheer thousand
feet out of the sea, and was covered all over with dense
tropical vegetation, each separate bit being covered all
over with thorns.

The pirate led the way, pretending to clear a path
with his machette. Rachel followed, then me.

Up, and up, and up we charged and stumbled.
Every time I started ordering him to stop while I
breathed, he merely put his finger to his lips.

'Sh!' he whispered, 'you will frighten the birds !'

At last we reached the top. I was outraged,
exhausted, and hotter than I had ever been in my life.
And were we rewarded by a sight of these birds? We
were not. There was nothing whatever to be seen but
more bushes with thorns on them, trees, and a little
patch of distant sky.

'Well,' I asked bitterly, 'where are your birds? 9

'Wait/ he said, 'they will come. 5

We waited, and in about half an hour's time he
clutched my arm.

'Look!' he breathed into my ear, 'the birds?

I looked, and saw nothing but what I had seen
before: bushes with thorns on them, trees, and a little

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patch of distant sky. He pointed to the top of a high
tree, the branches of which appeared to be rustling. A
very small patch of colour might have been a tail
feather. c Do you mean That?' I asked, forgetting in
my contempt to whisper, and startled at the unaccus-
tomed sound, they all flew away.

The pirate looked reproachful, but there was nothing
to be done. The birds had flown, and were most
unlikely to come back again for some time. Anyway
neither Rachel nor I wished to remain there any
longer, so in silence we went back by the way we had
come, only this time it was less painful, because the
climb, instead of being up, was down, and the wind
and tide once we were back on the sea instead of
being against us were with us. So that in a compara-
tively short space of time we were on the mainland
once more, tired, torn, but at rest. And that, we
observed, thinking of the first two states, is what comes
of climbing tropical mountains on a tropical afternoon.

The day's surprises were by no means over.
Suzannah met us at the shed and handed me a cable.
It was from Georgetown.

STARTING INTERIOR SUNDAY GOME AT ONCE URGENT

was what it said.

Rachel and I looked at each other in consternation.
One thing was quite certain. We could not possibly
be in British Guiana on Sunday. To-day was Friday,
no boat left Tobago till Sunday, and even if we could
have managed to reach Trinidad our difficulties were
far from being at an end, for we had to find another
boat going from Trinidad to Georgetown. Having
found it, the voyage took two days.

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THE ISLANDS

We hurried up to the main house in order to send a
cable explaining this unfortunate circumstance, and to
find out whether there was not some way of avoiding
the long sea journey all round the coast of Trinidad.
We found that there was. The boat called at Toco, on
the north side of the island, and only three hours froir
Tobago. By ordering a car from Port of Spain tc
meet us there, the journey could be made at great cost,
but in much less time.

We searched through the newspaper, and discovered
in a hidden corner of the shipping list that a ship
bound for British Guiana was due to call at Trinidad
on Tuesday. It would, unless anything unforeseen
occurred, reach Georgetown on Thursday morning.

We dispatched the cable.

That night we sat up late in our shed discussing the
situation. Rachel read the cards and saw change,
disagreeable journeys across water, a tall fair man, and
a surprise. I continued making my will. The forest
had suddenly loomed very close.

Very little remains to be told of our stay in the West
Indies. We packed on Saturday, sailed on Sunday,
shopped on Monday, sailed on Tuesday, were seasick
on Wednesday, and on Thursday morning we stood on
the deck of the Eastern Star, and gazed in the silence
at the vast continent stretching before us as far as eye
could reach.

South America! we thought, quite forgetting that
we had seen it before mysterious, dark, unconquered,
with its mountains, its jungles, its danger, and its
hidden wealth!

Nearer and nearer! Now we were almost alongside.

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A confusion of voices, breaking into the silence, rose
from the waiting crowd on the pier.

Georgetown at last! Down went the gangway, and
we stepped ashore.

The prelude was over; the adventure had begun.

82

>\-/ STAR. -.
2 \'J^^^

CHAPTER IV

WE ALL MEET

March 24th. Georgetown

IT seems strange to be actually in Georgetown! We
have talked of it and pictured it so often, and as often
happens when you picture before seeing, the picture is
quite unlike the reality.

Broad and flat, that is the first impression of the real
Georgetown, with flowering trees at intervals and
sunlight everywhere. The streets there are two
principal ones. Water Street and Main Street, Main
Street being the lesser are wide, and thronged with
people of every race and colour. Chinese and Whites,
Negroes and East Indians, they all mingle and pass
along their way. And there is romance here. Through
all the gay inconsequent life, through the chattering
and laughter, and the rattling of carts in the street, you
seem to hear, deep and persistent, the vast slow murmur
of the forest.

Gwen and Maurice met us this morning at the boat.
At first they seemed a little acid, I suppose because
we had not been able to arrive sooner. We .asked
whether the Colonel had arrived.

'Not only has he not arrived,' they said, c he is on
his way back to England. He was taken seriously ill
on the way out, and had to go straight back from
Barbados. We had made all arrangements to leave for
the interior last Sunday, and when, naturally expecting

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to find you all on it, we met the last boat, there was
nobody at all.'

This time there was no doubt about their tone. It
was bitter. However, in the heat and squash and
extreme discomfort of the custom house everything
else was forgotten, and after a great deal of conversa-
tion with officials about permits for guns, we emerged
amiably and reunited into the sunshine.

This afternoon we walked two miles to the Botanical
Gardens. In the centre of the gardens is a pond, and
in the pond are a number of manatees. These
creatures, which are exceedingly repulsive, are said to
be what mariners saw when they say they saw
mermaids. It is a little difficult to believe when you
look at a manatee and think of a mermaid, but I am
quite prepared to make the attempt, knowing what
even a limited experience of life on the sea can do to
one.

*And now, 5 said Maurice, when footsore and weary
we were back at Trent House, c let us stroll up to the
sea wall, and watch the children playing on the sand.
There is a delicious breeze there, and the sunset is
certain to be magnificent/

So we strolled to the sea wall a mile, and back
again, another mile and that is one reason why I
am now gasping under a mosquito net instead of being
at the cinema where the others have gone to watch
an Indian princess doing strange things with knives.

March 2$th. Trent House

We eat at unusual hours here. Breakfast is at six,
lunch at ten, and dinner, more normally at half-past

84

WE ALL MEET

seven. As tea is hardly more than a figure of speech the
unaccustomed naturally feel very hungry round about
five.

So this afternoon, when lunch was a thing of the
past, and dinner too distantly in the future to be of any
consolation, I went out into the town to buy a bun.

On my return I heard voices coming from the
sitting-room and entering, found two black men in
animated conversation with the others. Their names,
I discovered, were Moses Solomon and Alexander Soo.
They had been with Maurice on a previous expedition.

Solomon was very black indeed a dull black. His
face was deeply lined and furrowed; many teeth were
missing. He looked hard and weather-beaten and had
an expression of great seriousness and integrity. He
had one eye.

Soo was a different type altogether. A good deal less
black than Solomon, there were high lights on his face.
He seemed to be dramatic, voluble, and quick-witted,
and gave the impression of slickness. Although I
cannot be certain I imagine that he had slim hands
with long supple fingers. Both were smartly dressed,
and Soo carried a bottle under his arm in which was a
snake.

The introductions effected I sat down and soon
gathered that these two would accompany us on the
expedition.

Both are pork-knockers, as the gold and diamond
miners out here are called, and Solomon, until he
lost his eye, was a practising and experienced rivfcr
captain. Soo's mother was a Duika, or bush negro,
from Surinam. Originally runaway slaves who

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escaped into the bush, their descendants have lived
ever since in an independant state, and almost entirely
cut off from the world. They are a curious people;
little is known about them, and they are credited with
strange powers and practices,

Soo's peculiarity is snakes. He is very fond of them
and can call them when he wants them, and will even
put them in his mouth.

Many years ago Maurice had the 'Snake Gut' in its
simplest form. No snake will harm him, but he is not
content with this and wishes to be able to call them.
So Soo, who gave him the original 'Cut', is going to
initiate him into the final mysteries. He has promised,
for a consideration, to give the rest of us the first snake
'cut', and is coming round to-morrow morning to
perform the operation.

Our plans, by the way, have changed. Instead of
looking for diamonds in the southern part of the forest,
we are going to look for gold in the north-west.

We are also contemplating setting up as store-
keepers on the Venezuelan frontier. The real
originator of this notion is a man who for the best of
reasons I will call Juan. Neither Rachel nor I have
met him, but he was staying here until a few days ago.
From all accounts he seems to be an astonishing man;
he has been in all the most uninhabitable parts of the
world, and has had the strangest adventures in them.
Some of the adventures seem to have been wives.
However, he is apparently unencumbered at present,
and all his attention is concentrated on starting a bush
store on the north-west frontier, and he suggests that
we enter into partnership with him.

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WE ALL MEET

The plan really seems quite feasible. The country
is said to be rich. It cannot, however, be worked to any
great extent as there is no bush store nearer than a
place called Five Stars on the British Guiana side,
which is by way of being a fifty mile walk through
impassable and impenetrable bush, or Tumeremo on
the Venezuelan side, which is a hundred.

'If/ he told the others, 'we have a store on the
frontier all the pork-knockers from Arakaka and Five
Stars will flock up, to say nothing of the Venezuelans
over the border, where prices are very high. For that
matter we could for the land is very rich charge
what we like for stores, for no pork-knocker with a
claim full of gold cares what he pays for his rations so
long as he can get them on the spot. We could easily, 5
he concluded with great enthusiasm, 'dispose of for
coats and grand pianos if we wished!'

And if the stories of successful pork-knockers who
come down country are true, I can quite believe it.

The situation then is this. Juan assures us that the
land is extremely rich, and says that he has already
built a shop on the frontier, that he has taken up two
lots of stores, and has sold them most profitably.
Maurice and Gwen have made inquiries about him,
but have learnt nothing more than they already knew,
which is that he is plausible, attractive, and full of
boundless enthusiasm. Nobody knows who he is or
where he comes from.

On the face of it, therefore, it would seem strange
that we should place any credence on what he tells
us and it would be as strange as it sounds were it not
that he is backed and in partnership with a well-

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known and apparently respected business man in
Georgetown. Another question arises. If this bush
store is such a profitable concern, why should he wish
to enter into partnership with us, and so reduce his
profits? The answer is that it is obviously impossible
for one man to run the store and bring up fresh con-
signments from Georgetown single-handed, and that
therefore a partner or partners on whom he could
rely would be a great advantage, for although the
profits would certainly have to be divided there would
probably be more profits to divide. An honest partner
in South America is rare as the aloe that blooms once
in a hundred years, and considerably more difficult to
find, so that when Juan met Maurice he probably
realized his luck.

From our point of view the scheme has advantages.
The north-west district, though distant, is yet less
distant than our original destination. Gold, if found, is
a better proposition than diamonds, and store-keeping,
if there is anyone to buy the stores, is a better proposi-
tion than either and Juan, if he is as entertaining as he
sounds, might turn out to be the best proposition of the
lot.

So we are all agreed that there might be something
in it, and are giving the project serious consideration,
especially as it would in no way interfere with our
original plan to prospect.

Meanwhile Juan has darted off to the Orinoco
River, where he has an alligator farm. It seems that
this is the breeding season, and he is naturally anxious
to see that no mistakes are made. He has said that he
will be back in Georgetown at the end of next week,

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W& ALL MEET

and I am looking forward with very considerable
interest to meeting him.

In the fullness of time Solomon and Soo took their
departure, and a few minutes later there was a knock
at the door.

c Come in/ we said, and the head of Bertha the black
maid appeared round it.

c Dere is a gentleman to see you/ she announced in
an impressive whisper.

'Where is he? 5 we asked.

'Here,' she answered, and produced him on the
instant, because he was standing close behind her.

Benjamin Smith was, like the two who had just left,
a pork-knocker a fine strapping black man with
magnificent teeth, which he showed continually in a
broad grin.

He told us that he had discovered a creek in the
Potaro district which was fabulously rich. Positively
it glittered with diamonds, and the nuggets of gold
were as big as turkeys' eggs; and to this creek he would,
for a substantial consideration, lead us.

We told hiin that we would think the matter over,
and at last he went away, and was instantly replaced
by another one. From five until half-past seven there
was a continual stream of callers with Eldorados for
sale.

It has been such a lovely day, such brilliant sun-
shine, and no breath of wind to break the serenity.

In the evening I went down to the waterside and
sat there on a timber log watching the ships. A
schooner came sailing in, its masts and rigging sil-

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houetted against the pale green of the sky; on the quay
fishermen lounged about, chatting and smoking their
pipes.

I sat there until the first star came out, and I would
have sat there much longer had not the mosquitoes come
out too, and driven me in. It is late now. Long ago
Maurice devoured his nightly mango and went to
bed. The deepest silence reigns. Outside my window
I can clearly see the long strip of grass on which it is
so much wiser not to walk because of the Mle rouge
that live in it The stillness is wonderful, only
broken by the whistling frogs, and the incessant
shrilling of the cicadas.

March 26th. Trent House

This has been a day full of incident. We began it by
having the snake 'Cut 5 . Soo came round very early
with several bottles containing snakes, one of which,
by the way, has remained behind with Maurice. It is
a Hymarali, and is small, but of a particularly virulent
nature.

Maurice and Soo and the snakes went into the sitting-
room, and remained there for a long time. Not a
sound could we hear, although we knew that behind
the closed doors the final and most secret initiation was
taking place. It was all very mysterious.

Our conjectures were finally brought to a conclusion
by the opening of the sitting-room door, and we were
invited to enter in order to watch Maurice being
bitten by three deadly poisonous snakes. We went in,
and took up our positions at a discreet distance; Gwen
stood by anxiously grasping a bottle of snake serum.

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WE ALL MEET

Maurice held a snake in either hand, and although
Soo rapped them smartly with a twig nothing would
induce them to bite. He then told Maurice to put one
of the snakes in his mouth, which he did. It was a
most unpleasant sight.

My turn came next, and all but Maurice, Soo and I
left the room.

The 'Cut' took some time, too long to describe in
detail. There was a good deal of ritual. A number of
needles were tied together, and eventually broken, and
thrown one by one out of the window. I burnt some-
thing which looked like a piece of charcoal; my arm
was scratched, which was exceedingly painful, in a
number of places until blood was drawn. Then
some liquid was rubbed into the wound, I was given
some High Wine to drink, and told that in future no
snake would bite me, and that even if it did there
would be no ill-effects. Then Gwen and Rachel were
given the Cut 5 , and after that we went down to lunch,
the hour being late, and we hungry.

As neither the food nor the conversation were worthy
of note I will pass in silence over the lunch until
shortly before the conclusion, for in the middle of the
conclusion, which was custard, there were exclama-
tions of astonishment from Maurice and Gwen. I
turned and saw that a tall fair man had entered the
dining-room and was coming over to our table.

It was Juan! Juan whom we had believed to be
somewhere in the interior of Venezuela, supervising
his alligators!

In rapid and peculiar English he explained that
he had returned sooner than he expected for various

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reasons, one of them being that a Venezuelan whom
he had previously regarded as a friend had tried to do
away with him by sending him up the Orinoco in a
leaking boat. His men, who were in the pay of the
treacherous friend, deserted him, and he had spent
several days being marooned on a small island,
from which he was at length rescued by some Indians
passing down the river in their coreals. When he
reached the coast he took an aeroplane and flew
back to British Guiana.

I asked him why he had not procured a boat that
did not leak and returned to give his friend hell. He
shrugged his shoulders.

C I was fed up, hein/ he replied shortly, and I appre-
ciated his point of view.

All the afternoon we talked, and listened, and dis-
cussed, and the result of it is that we have definitely
decided to join forces with him.

The arrangement is this.

We are to enter into an agreement with him. He
has twenty thousand pounds weight of stores which are
to re-stock his bush store on the Venezuelan frontier.
We are to help run the shop and will receive a share of
the profits. In consideration of this we agree to pay
for the transport of the stores to the shop on the
frontier, but are in no way responsible for their cost.
(We made a particular point of this.)

He has asked for a clause to be inserted to the effect
that while we are in partnership with him all gold or
claims located belong to the syndicate, of which he is
now a member.

He is certainly a most unusual man. I have never

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WE ALL MEET

met anyone in the least like him. He is quick, very
amusing, and has amazing vitality. In appearance he
is much as I expected, except that he is younger and
better looking.

So now all that remains to be done is to pack, and
be inoculated against typhoid. Our boat is built and
called the Golden Hind.

A coastal steamer leaves Georgetown in a few
days for the north-west, and on this, if all goes well, we
intend to sail. The voyage takes rather longer than
eighteen hours, and I believe the steamer is very smalL
If this is indeed the case, and the sea is rough, the
eighteen hours are likely to be exceedingly
disagreeable.

March gist. Trent House

Nothing of importance has happened since I last
wrote. This morning the Hymarali got out of its
bottle and darted under the bed in Maurice's room.
He was rather afraid that it might escape into the
passage and into some uninitiated person's room,
which would have alarmed them. In spite of the
immunity rendered by the *Cut' 3 Gwen jumped on to a
chair, while Maurice crawled about on hands and
knees under the bed. Eventually he managed to catch
hold of the Hymarali by the tail. It swelled up with
anger, but made no attempt to bite him. No sooner
had he induced it to go back into its bottle than out it
darted again, and there was another chase. At last,
much to everyone's relief, it was captured.

He is worried because it seems to be rather off its
food, and has not eaten any of the grains of rice which

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it is supposed to like. Twice a day it is fed and the
water in the bottle is changed. A hundred times a day
it is taken out and played with, and on one occasion
it went to a cocktail party. We call it 'Baby? because
it is such a nuisance, and because of the way Maurice
plays nursemaid to it.

This is our last night in civilization. To-morrow
afternoon we leave for the interior. Everything is
ready; the sacks and the packing cases of stores are
down at the dock waiting to be shipped, and all that
remains for me to do is to buy another hundred rounds
of ammunition, an extra pair of socks, and have my
bush knife sharpened.

April ist. At Sea. Aboard the Tarpon

And so, on what I have just realized is not a very
auspicious date, we have really started! The long line
that was Georgetown has faded into the distance, and
there is nothing to be seen any more but the grey
expanse of sea and sky; no sound but the monotonous
throb of the engines.

Already the old life in civilization, with its tumult
and clatter, has passed, and become only a memory
something in which I have no longer any part.
Through this silence, which is like the pregnant silence
before dawn, we shall presently burst upon a new
world. Never before have I known so wonderful a
sensation of freedom such a wild excitement! I feel
like stout Cortez. More accurately, I have felt since
we sailed away, and until a few moments ago like
stout Cortez. But nothing is more certain than that
one cannot remain indefinitely on a peak, however

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exalted, and one of the things that brought me off mine
was a suspicion that the sea, till now so beautifully
calm, was resolving itself into shapes that I knew only
too well. The deck is deserted, so my suspicion is
probably shared.

Our departure from Georgetown was delayed, first
because everything in South America is always
delayed, and secondly because of a cow, which was
unwilling to come on board. Thirdly because of the
Golden Hind. It is almost as large as the Tarpon; more
precisely the Tarpon is almost as small as the Golden
Hind y so when they tried to haul it out of the water on
to the ship the fun began. It snapped the ropes that
held it. It swung round unexpectedly, and knocked
one man senseless. It swept another one into the sea.
It slipped, it struggled, it groaned. It seemed, in
short, to have become possessed of a devil. So, for that
matter, did the cow, but this was more understandable.

For more than an hour the efforts of everyone on
board were unavailing, but at last they were crowned
with success, and both the cow and the Golden Hind
are now at rest on that part of the ship which is above
the hold. I can see them from here, and the cow is
contentedly munching hay.

Alas! there is no longer any doubt about the sea. It
is becoming rougher every minute. I will go to bed
and try and sleep until we reach Morawhanna in the
morning.

April 2nd. Morawhanna

We landed this morning at eleven, after a horrible
night on the Tarpon. The last two hours of the voyage

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were fortunately passed in the calm waters of the river.
So eventually I emerged and joined the others on
deck. They were all dressed, as I was, in bush clothes,
i.e. shirts, and trousers tucked into field boots; all, that
is, except Juan, who wore the same as he had worn
the day before, with the addition of a pair of brown
patent leather shoes.

The river was wide, and the forest on either side
fringed with mangrove swamps. We gazed about us
with intense interest. From among the trees rose a
number of brilliant birds. We watched them flying
in^a long line across the river. They were Scarlet
Ibis. A sudden bend revealed Morawhanna a few
straggling huts basking in the bright tropical sunlight.

Juan pointed out a building superior to the others
in that it had two storeys and a corrugated iron
roof.

That,' he said, 'is where we stay. 5

We went ashore in a coreal, as the Indian canoes are
called, and walked up the stelling to the house with
two storeys, and it is there, in an upper room, that I
am at present sitting, on a sack of flour, surrounded
by an incredible number of other sacks, containing
such of the twenty thousand pounds of stores as have
already come ashore. The Tarpon is busy unloading the
rest. Maurice is down at the stelling, no doubt directing
operations. Gwen is making a list. Rachel is sitting on
a roll of bedding trying to restrain a most unattractive
mongrel of Juan's called Whisky. Juan himself is
wandering about the village, talking volubly, I
suppose he must get rid of his surplus vitality in
some way, though why anyone should bestir him or

9 6

WE ALL MEET

herself in this grilling sunshine is more than I can
understand.

Every now and then a black man staggers up the
stairs with a sack, or a case, or a roll.

'Where you want it, Mistress?' he asks.

Without much hope I look for an unoccupied piece
of floor, the load is deposited, and he goes out
mopping his brow, to fetch another one.

The house, which is also a shop, has a placard on
the door "Ho Shoo's Tavern', but it seems that Ho
Shoo is long since dead, and the house is now occupied
by a certain Mrs. Jones and her family. She herself is
East Indian, the family is of various races, and they
all live together on the ground floor. The upper one,
which consists of a small barn with a half-way partition
in the middle, is occupied by us. Considering the lack
of space, and the indescribable confusion which reigns,
I cannot imagine where or how we shall sleep. But no
doubt we will arrange it somehow.

April 3rd. Morawhanna

We did. Gradually the chaos was reduced to some-
thing approaching order. We cleared all the stores
from one room into the other, and Gwen, Rachel and I
put up our camp beds in it. Maurice and Juan at first
thought of occupying the other room, but when we
had put everything we didn't want into it, they
decided to sleep downstairs in the shop.

At one end of the room in which they decided nol
to sleep there is a narrow table and a bench. We hav<
swept what was on it off on to the floor and it serve:
admirably as a dining, reading and writing table. Ir

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the evening, when the brief tropical twilight has turned
to darkness, we stand the hurricane lamps on it, and
by the dim uncertain light (because as yet they do not
seem to have properly absorbed the kerosene) the
room looks quite romantic.

It is evening now. Maurice, disgusted with the
lamp which keeps on going out, is writing his diary by
the light of a flickering candle. The rest are occupied in
ways interesting only to themselves, and Whisky is
mercifully sleeping.

Morawhanna is a fascinating little settlement.
Nearly all the houses are on the edge of the river and
each is surrounded by a moat with a bridge over it.
The advantage of the moat is that it prevents some of
the surrounding swamp from coming in. The disad-
vantage (from the passer's point of view) is that it
serves as a general refuse heap. But the inhabitants
do not seem to mind this. They are principally negroes.
There are few Indians, and a small upper class which
is Chinese. I believe that there is a Jesuit mission here
somewhere, but as yet I have seen no white people.

This afternoon we went into the Manicold forest to
look for snakes. In order to do this we had to cross a
bottomless swamp of horrible glutinous mud, by means
of a tacuba or fallen tree, no wider than a billiard cue
at is narrow end. I looked at it in some trepidation,
but as the others had already shown their mettle by
crossing, I could do no less than make the attempt.

The manicold forest is dense and steaming, and
smells exactly like a hot house. You have only to shut
your eyes and you see rows of pots on shelves. The
richness and mysteriousness of it are extraordinary, a

WE ALL MEET

fitting setting for every kind of strange creature. It is
easy to imagine jaguar slipping through the under-
growth, or giant snakes twisting among the boughs and
trunks of the trees

In spite of the Gut I kept a sharp look out, for I only
had on tennis shoes, and how could I feel sure that the
snakes in the forest knew that I had had the Gut in
Georgetown?

Soo walked in front whistling softly, having
previously rubbed some liquid from a bottle over his
face, neck, and arms. Greatly to my relief, no snake
answered, and he was exceedingly disgusted. But on
the way back, when we reached the swamp (he was
still whistling) a snake slid out of the mud straight into
his hand. It was the most extraordinary sight. Then
he told Maurice to whistle, because, he said, the snake's
mate must be somewhere near. He did so, and
immediately there came a snake from either side of the
swamp. On their way to him, however, they paused to
eat some flies that were swarming on the face of the
mud.

'Call more strong, Major/ said Soo. 'Show dem
you is dere master/

Maurice did so, and the snakes continued with their
meal. So Soo, handing the first snake to Maurice,
rolled up his trousers and waded into the mud, which
came well above his knees. He went over to the snakes,
picked one of them up and brought it back. Then he
and Maurice washed them in the creek in order to
remove the mud. Soo rolled one of them into a ball in
the palm of his hand, then put it in his cap, and the
cap back on to his head, and handed the other one to

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Maurice, instructing him to carry it by the middle
instead of by the neck, which is the usual way of
carrying poisonous snakes. This he did, *and we set
off triumphantly homewards. Gwen, Rachel and I
keeping at a respectful distance. Soon after we had
started Soo's snake poked its head out from under
his cap, so he took it out and scolded it, then replaced
it in the cap, and after that it made no further
appearance.

Maurice's snake had more spirit, and as we pro-
ceeded along the path by the river it lashed its tail and
reared and hissed at passers-by, who shrank back in
alarm, for it was a deadly poisonous water labaria. In
this way we came home, and the snakes were placed in
rum bottles.

It is all very interesting, but I am becoming a little
tired of snakes. The number of things that can be
said about them seems to be endless, and wherever you
look there is sure to be a deadly poisonous reptile
curled up in a bottle. Besides it is dangerous, with the
lamps giving such an uncertain light. It would be too
horrible if we mistook the bottles . . . Doesn't bear
thinking about! . . .

April 4th. Morawhanna

As usual our departure is being delayed, this time
because of an accident, for when Juan, who has an
outboard motor, tried it on the Golden Hind, it (the
motor) blew up. Exactly why it blew up I am
uncertain, because the ways of outboard motors are
so unfathomable, but blow up it did, and unless Juan
manages to secure another one from somebody over

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whom he mysteriously says that he has a hold, we will
have to wait here for another fortnight while spare parts
are sent for from Georgetown. He has gone off to see
what can be done, and we are sitting about in the room
waiting. . . .

We waited for three hours, and then he returned with
another motor, of considerably lower horse-power
than the first, but it has been attached to the Golden
Hind and seems to be working all right. We propose to
start to-morrow morning before dawn.

April 5th. Morawhanna

Juan was to have called me this morning at three,
but rather fortunately something happened to the
engine, and we are still here. Everyone but me is
standing about in the broiling sunshine, either
tinkering with it, or watching it being tinkered with.
Through the window I can see Juan striding off along
the path, so perhaps there is someone else over whpm
he has a hold.

The river looks so cool and lovely. A number of
cedar logs are floating near the bank; two powerful
black men are sawing though one on land, and the
quiet, regular sound of it drifts in through the open
window; careless of alligators, boys are swimming
about among the coreals near the stelling. Down
below in the shop someone is playing a mandoline.

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CHAPTER V

THE RIVER

penetrated further and further into the heart of
darkness. It was very quiet there*

April yth. On the River. Morning

IT is almost impossible to realize that barely twenty-
four hours have passed since we left Morawhanna, or
indeed that there was ever a time when we were not,
in one position or another, aboard the Golden Hind. So
that it is with something of an effort that I cast my mind
back into the distances and events of yesterday.

There were many false alarms before we finally got
away. 'We have discovered what was the matter
with the engine. It is all right now, and we are starting
in a few minutes, so you had better come down. 5
And down I would go, only to find that the tide had
fallen, and the Golden Hind stuck in the mud, so we
would all return to the shade of the house to wait until
the tide turned again.

However, we got off at last, having first been
inspected by the local authorities, who had to see that
our five-ton boat was no deeper in the water than for
safety's sake it should be. The result was satisfactory,
and this was astonishing, for in addition to the fifteen
thousand pounds of stores, our five selves, Solomon,
Soo, and Whisky, a captain, an engineer, and a bow-
man, there are eleven large, fierce-looking men on

1 02

THE RIVER

board. One of them is less large and not at all fierce,
but that is because he is a Portuguese.

Juan explained that they are pork-knockers working
their way to a mine in Venezuela. We inquired in
what manner they are working their way in our boat,
and he replied that they will be generally useful,
helping to haul it up rapids, and to paddle in the event
of anything happening to the engines. I say Engines'
advisedly, for there are no fewer than three on board,
a twelve, an eight, and a two horse power. At present
the two horse power is the only one that is working.
In return for a passage the black men will do anything
that is required of them.

The names of everyone on board were then taken.
Those of the new black crew are Paris, Blackman, Bob,
Ross, Stout, Santos I forget the rest. The bowman,
an Indian, is called John de la Cruz.

The formalities concluded, we shoved off from the
bank, the engine was started, and amidst the cheers
of the populace we began our long journey into the
unknown.

For awhile Morawhanna and the waving crowd on
the stelling remained in sight, then came a bend and
they were gone. We were alone on the river.

The water was still as glass, and the sunset threw
long shadows upon it. On either side the forest spread
like an impenetrable wall over everything a feeling
of 'unbrokenness'. It is hard to describe, or even to
explain exactly what I mean, but I have felt it ever
since we left Morawhanna. It is not silence, but rather
sounds within silence, intensely real, yet like a dream.
As we passed along close to the bank, from among the

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mangrove trees, with their curious twisted roots
growing through the water, there came a strange
music, like the notes of an organ. Startled by our
approach a kingfisher rose from its perch and skimmed
rapidly along the surface of the water, occasionally
touching it with a wing tip. Screaming harshly, parrots
winged their agitated flight two by two overhead.

But no words, no mere recital of the sights and sounds
can give any notion of the loveliness and wonder of the
river, and of gliding up it in that strange evening light.
It is all so still, and remote, and untroubled.

About eight we had a delicious dinner of corned
beef and onions, and drank large quantities of tea,
which is the most refreshing and sustaining drink,
hot or cold, that exists. About nine the ^chug-chug'
of the engine suddenly ceased. After an interval it
started again and stopped, and started, and stopped,
and finally went dumb altogether, so the black crew
paddled. About ten they were still paddling, and as
the mangrove swamps prevented our landing and
making a camp, we composed ourselves for sleep.

We lay anywhere, in places that a fly would have
scorned, and when I say we, I include not only
Solomon and Soo, Whisky, and the engineer, but all
those of the crew who were not paddling. The con-
gestion was extreme; wherever, whenever you moved it
was on to somebody. Rachel informed us triumphantly
that she had found a most comfortable bed on a sack
of rice. On this she proceeded to fall asleep and
wakened some time later because the largest and
fiercest of the black crew was getting cramp.

I shared the edge of a packing case, but it was very

104

THE RIVER

far from satisfactory, so leaving the other sharer in
undisputed possession, I climbed down and picking
my way carefully over huddled forms, went and sat in
the bows, covering myself with an edge of tarpaulin
to keep off the dew.

Peace reigned; like a shining pathway the river
gleamed beneath the regnant moon. The forest
loomed black and dangerous on either side, and as we
passed by, each moment taking us farther and farther
out of the world, a myriad eyes, strange and hostile,
watched us from the bank among the trees. The
rhythmical dip of the paddles, a sudden splash as
some giant fish leapt out of the water, and the faint
persistent stirring in the forest served only to make the
silence seem more profound.

Surely an age of trouble would be more than re-
quited by an instant's vision of such exceeding beauty.
At first the wonder of it is almost unbearable, and
sends stabs of pain through you, and then, as though a
veil were suddenly lifted, the gulf, the feeling of
discrepancy has gone, and you know beyond any
need of telling that you are utterly at one with the
trees and the sky and all the wonder. There is no
break, no pause between you and it; you are no
emanation of life, you are life itself. Here, at last, is
utter peace, utter comprehension.

In the early hours of the morning we reached
Fraser's landing, a patch of reclaimed swamp on
which a hut had been built. We found a coreal
moored near by, and perilously dropping into it,
pushed our way through mangroves to die shore.

We inspected the place to see whether there was

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any fairly level and solid ground on which a camp
bed could be put up. The only place was in the hut,
and as this was already full of hammocks, Indians,
and a variety of animals, we decided to remain on
board. The fourteen men were sent ashore, for we were
determined to have a few hours 5 uncramped rest.

Gwen and Rachel spread their kapok mattresses oh
top of the stores, and while I was wandering about
trying to find a more comfortable place, they decided
without consulting me that I should sleep in what we
call the cabin, because of four slender rods supporting
an adjustable roof. It also has a narrow bench, on
which, if you are extremely small and well covered,
you can sit in comparative comfort for ten minutes.
On the floor are planks inadequately covering the
bilge water. Just behind is the engine.

I began by being furious at this arrangement, but
on examination I saw that the cabin, in spite of the
slight smell of petrol, might be made more comfort-
able than the stores, and that in the event of rain I
should be in a stronger and drier position than the
others, so I said very little more about it, and un-
rolling my valise, spread it along the bench and lay
down.

Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed, and the smell of
petrol became more and more noticeable. Soon the
whole cabin reeked of it. Suffocating fumes rose into
the air, and floated round me in clouds. I fanned
myself with my hat, I stuck my head outside, nothing
did the smallest good. It was outrageous that I should
have been forced into such a situation! Without a
doubt Gwen had known about the petrol and had,

1 06

THE RIVER

at Rachel's instigation, done it on purpose. Choking
with fumes and indignation I dragged the valise upon
the roof.

'Look out! 5 called a voice from the shore. c There
are vampire bats about!'

Gwen and Rachel, dreaming on top of the stores,
did not stir. I considered, remembered the cabin, and
decided not to wake them. With a final glance to make
sure that my feet were properly covered, I put my
head under the rug and soon fell sound asleep.

Morning came all too soon. It was still grey, and
the dew heavy on the trees when Juan came out in the
coreal and woke us. We roused ourselves unwillingly,
collected washing tackle and ingredients for breakfast,
and started to go ashore. And then, as we were about
to land, someone remembered the kettle, and won-
dered anxiously whether it was in the coreal. It was
not, and nobody had seen it. We returned to the
Golden Hind, but it did not appear to be there either.
We searched carefully and then frantically about the
boat because a kettle is important, and the idea that
it might have fallen overboard or been left behind was
not one that could be borne with equanimity. How-
ever, just when our fears were greatest, it was dis-
covered floating in the bilge water, and was rescued,
together with a couple of spoons and a dishcloth. All
being well we re-entered the coreal and were soon on
land.

The hut presented a very different appearance from
that of the night before. The hammocks, the dogs,
and many of the Indians had vanished. At one
end was a fire, and round it some girls and women,

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probably relations of the owner, sat cooking something
in a large pot or cauldron.

Here, I thought, are people living a strange and
apparently very primitive life far from civilization.
Surely they must have an unusual and therefore
interesting point of view.

So I ventured a few remarks, hoping to draw them
into revealing conversation, but nothing that I could
say or do elicited anything but a grunt or a sheepish
grin, so finally I gave up the attempt, and leaving
them to their point of view followed the others down
the path, where they had gone with the enamel basins
and a bucket of muddy looking water from the river.
We secreted ourselves in various dripping bushes and
succeeded in having quite adequate baths. Then,
feeling very clean and refreshed, we had our breakfast,
and after a pause, during which somebody cleared up,
we returned to the boat and started off again up the
river.

April ^th. On the River. Night.

All day long we pursued our way in the grilling sun-
shine. Nothing very noteworthy occurred except that
the engine elected to work again, so we made very
good headway, and I played a game of chess with
Rachel and won it. The third event, which took place
during our stop for lunch, was that poor Juan was
badly stung in the eye by a maribunta. I am not sure
what a maribunta is, but imagine it to be some kind
of a bee. Anyway his eyelid swelled to an enormous
size, and must have been very painful. Afterwards we
sat on top of the stores under my big Corsican um-

108

THE RIVER

brella, and he told me about his wives, and of all the
trouble he had with them.

In the evening we reached Mount Everhart, and it
is the most desolate spot I have ever seen. A stelling
leads through long soaking grass to the remains of a
hut. The hut is in ruins,, and the floor planks, with
gaping darkness beneath for the hut is on piles
are few and rotten, and very far between.

The way from the stelling to the hut is fraught with
danger, firstly because of the snakes in the long grass,
and secondly because if you walk anywhere but on the
invisible path, you walk into a swamp. In addition to
this the place is said to be swarming with tiger (as the
jaguar of South America is called) and is haunted, so
the men say, by duppies. And so I am glad, all things
considered, that I am not the men, who have been
sent ashore to sleep as best they can in the ruined,
haunted hut.

It is almost midnight now, and I am writing by the
light of the magnificent new electric torch that I
bought in Georgetown.

A disaster nearly occurred half an hour ago when
Whisky, with his usual lack of intelligence, elected to
leave the Golden Hind and wander about among the
snakes and tigers on land. He jumped ashore and was
fast disappearing when Rachel noticed what was
happening and set off in hot pursuit. She caught him
and returned to the boat. It was then that I heard an
exclamation of horror and, looking up, saw Rachel
with Whisky in her arms, one foot on the boat and the
other on the fast receding stelling, and she, apparently,
exactly balanced between the two. It was an awful

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moment. I was right away at the other end of the
boat, and even if I could possibly have reached her in
time it would have been useless, for I was suddenly
seized with an uncontrollable fit of laughter and was
rooted to the spot. Most fortunately Gwen appeared
from the shadows and pulled her on board.

Silence reigns on the Golden Hind; silence on the
river. Only in the strange tumultuous forest the frogs
are croaking incessantly and calling to each other
across the creeks.

Koriabo. April gth

We reached Koriabo yesterday and are staying at
the rest house. It is a real house, with walls and a
palm-thatched roof. We are overcome by such luxury
and magnificence. There are two rooms, and a large
veranda on which we all sleep. I have put my bed up
at one end the end that has the best view but no
one else seems to want it very passionately, so I have
remained there. On one side is an immense clump of
bamboos, and down to the left I can see the river
glinting through the trees.

The house, like every other house in the country, is
built on piles, and the crew have slung their hammocks
below, so that we get the full benefit of their conversa-
tion. To-night Soo was delivering an oration on what
he called Heavenly Love. The other men were in-
clined to be facetious at first and kept on interrupting
the flow of his discourse with flippant interjections,
but his persistence finally wore them down and they
listened in silence.

C I know/ he said, 'everyting about love. Why, if

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THE RIVER

I have a plantain seed, do you tink I keep it to myself?
No! I give it to ray fellow man because I know dat so
my Heavenly Father will give me twice as much to-
morrow/

Sometimes they sing, and every now and then groans
rise into the air from a wretched man who is down with
fever. We have done all that is possible for him, but
he is feeling very ill and sorry for himself. And that
reminds me of a really joyful event, which is that the
little snake that Soo caught at Morawhanna has died,
so at least there will only be one bottle to carry about.
Secretly and fervently we hoped that Baby would pine
and die, too, but the death of its fellow has had quite
the opposite effect, and it has perked up and eaten all
its rice.

Maurice and Soo went off into the forest this morn-
ing to call more snakes, but most fortunately they re-
turned empty handed.

After lunch we had the second typhoid injection,
administered well but rather painfully by Rachel. I
think the needle must have been a bit rusty. Some
little Indian children there is an encampment
near by came and watched the operation with great
interest. They are attractive little things, with their
straight black hair, and their solemn brown eyes. At
first they were very shy, but after awhile they gained
confidence and came up on the veranda.

In front of the house there is a bush covered with
orange-coloured flowers, and to this bush come the
loveliest little humming birds. Like flashing lights
they dart from flower to flower, pausing shimmeringly
for a few seconds at each as they suck the honey. The

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butterflies, too, are marvellously beautiful, particu-
larly the Morphos. They are larger than any butterfly
I have seen, with rather a clumsy flight, and of a blue
so intense that they positively seem to give off light.
Then there are the orange butterflies that settle on
the humming bird bush and are barely distinguishable
from the flowers; and a host of others.

This evening I went, for the first time by myself,
out alone into the forest. There is a trail leading to an
Indian Field (a space cleared for cultivation) at about
half an hour's distance from the rest house, and it was
along this trail that I set off after tea, followed by
injunctions not to leave it without blazing the trees.

It was wonderful out there alone in the forest.
Hardly a sound, as I passed along the trail, stepping
over twisting, spreading roots and rotten tacubas,
except for the crackling of dead leaves beneath my
feet, an occasional tapping, which I suppose must
have been some kind of a woodpecker, or the sudden
strange call of a hidden bird. Butterflies floated noise-
lessly by, and once a small creature, unrecognizable
because of its swiftness, scuttled across the trail and
vanished into the undergrowth.

I sat down on a tacuba and gazed about me. Just
now the silence was unbroken profound. I felt that
I was in an immense cathedral, so strong was the im-
pression of spaciousness, and this in spite of the fact
that actually I could not see more than ten or fifteen
yards in any direction. But the feeling of space and
distance persisted, and I cannot account for it unless
it is that the intertwining branches high above me
gave the illusion of arches, and the shafts of sunlight

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that occasionally pierced their way through the dense
mass of foliage were like the beams that strike through
a stained glass window, illumining the inner darkness.
One such beam, penetrating the deep green gloom,
lit upon a large brown leaf which was hanging from
one of the lower branches. This leaf was behaving in
the most extraordinary manner, twisting, and waving
violently to and fro, as though blown by an imper-
ceptible wind. I examined it carefully but could not
discover any cause. Maurice tells me that he has
frequently seen the same thing, but has never heard
an explanation.

It was almost dark when I got in, and the fireflies
were beginning to appear among the trees like points
of fire. Strange how with the oncoming of night the
whole forest seems to wake, to become so dangerously
alert and alive! A myriad different sounds are heard,
a myriad eyes seem to watch you as you speed along
the trail with ever quickening steps, fearful lest the
faint remaining light should vanish before you reach
home. It would indeed be terrifying to lose one's way
in the forest at night. It is so huge, so sinister, and
above all so overmasteringly strong.

I was relieved to find myself safely back in the rest
house with the others. They were sitting round the
table playing pelman patience. Two hurricane lamps
and a candle stuck on to the lid of a tobacco tin made
a small circle of light and showed up the worried, con-
centrated look on the faces of the players.

I lit another lamp, fetched some hot water from the
kettle on the fire, had a bath, and changed into a clean
shirt and trousers. Then feeling very refreshed I went

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on to the veranda and watched the others at their
game. They were completely absorbed in it, and no
sound broke the silence save an occasional expletive
as a wrong card was turned. I looked at them, and
then in the curious way that things previously taken
for granted suddenly become visible I saw them ob-
jectively. Maurice with his lined face, massive fore-
head, keen blue eyes, attractive hands, and general
air of unshakable determination. A fighter. Beside
Juan, who sat swinging his long legs over the edge of
the veranda and flashing his new electric torch among
the trees Juan the tortuous, the fantastic beseemed
a very caricature of masculinity and masculine strength.
Not that J. lacks strength and purpose, but his methods
are less direct.

Rachel, too, had become visible. She has grey eyes,
I noticed. She is kind and candid. She knows her
own well-stocked mind and is fairly quiet about it.
She has a superficial and deceptive air of calmness, but
is really possessed of an immense nervous force which
drives her into perpetual and often quite incompre-
hensible motion. She is intelligent and indendepent,
and as usual her shirt is coming out at the back.

Gwen, I thought, as I looked at her, is like a small
mountain stream running over pebbles in the sun.
She is morning early morning; Maurice is morning,
too, but later, and with the weather uncertain. Rachel
is a warm October afternoon, and Juan is the very
middle of a brilliant tropical night. And having come
to these conclusions I went inside to fetch my torch
because I wanted to be sure that it is more powerful
than Juan's. It is.

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Santos (one of the crew) caught some fish in the
river to-day, which we had for dinner. Very delicious.
We also had three eggs buttered. They were brought
by an Indian.

'Me have eggs to sell, Mistress/ he said.

Gwen asked how much they cost, and the answer
was 'Nothing'. It seemed an odd transaction. We
gave him some tobacco and he went away looking
pleased.

These Indians are a curious looking people. They
are, as a rule, small, with beautiful slender limbs and
immensely powerful chests and shoulders. This gives
a peculiar effect as the upper part of the body is de-
veloped out of all proportion to the lower part. No
doubt it is due to the fact that so much of their life is
spent felling trees, paddling their coreals and wood-
skins, and carrying their belongings from one place to
another. They must surely be of Mongolian origin.
They have the same lank coarse black hair, and the
wide prominent cheek-bones. Somebody once told me
that almost every Mongolian child has at its birth a
blue mark at the base of the spine. Having had no
occular proof I cannot vouch for the truth of this story,
but if I see evidences of it while I am living among the
Indians, and if, at a future date, I see it among the
Chinese, I shall consider it proof positive that the South
American Indian is of Mongolian origin.

He is a beautiful pale copper colour, and wears only
a scanty red loin cloth a most sensible dress for this
hot climate. The women wear a single sack-like gar-
ment reaching to the knee. None of those I have seen
could be described as anything but exceedingly plain,

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but I believe that the tribes vary a good deal, so per-
haps we shall see more attractive specimens when we
get farther up the river.

Juan is going back to Morawhanna in the Golden
Hind. He is leaving it there for the present, and bring-
ing up the remainder of the stores in a smaller boat.
Reports say that the river farther up is so dry that only
a very small shallow boat can get up it until the rains
start again and the river rises. So Juan is going to try
and procure another boat, and will come up in it to
Koriabo.

Everyone is rather cross to-night, probably the re-
sult of the typhoid injection. Until now my arm was
all right, but it is beginning to feel stiff and painful,
so I will stop writing and follow the others to bed,

April zoth. Koriabo

Late last night, just as we were finishing dinner, we
were electrified by the unmistakable throb of a motor
boat coming up the river. We rushed down to the
water's edge, but could see nothing, so after waiting
for a time we decided that the throb was no more than
yet another species of frog, and returned to the house.
We had not been there ten minutes before a sound of
voices rose from down below on the stelling, and
Whisky ran out to see and annoy whatever it was that
has arrived. We followed with flashlights and found
. that the voices belonged to the Commissioner and an-
other official who were on their way to Arakaka from
Mabaruma, the government compound some ten
miles across the river from Morawhanna.

So we had another and festive dinner preceded by

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swizzles (the British Guiana cocktail). After dinner
we smoked and talked and danced, and talked and
danced and smoked again, and when at last everyone
was in bed or hammock, the veranda looked exactly
like a hospital ward.

The events of to-day are not worth chronicling, be-
cause there weren't any to speak of. The arms of
everyone were stiff and sore all the morning, and we
slept most of the afternoon.

This morning the Commissioner and his assistant
continued on their way to Arakaka, where I think one
of the periodical courts is being held. They have left
behind them a precious ham. Whether this was by
accident or gracious design we do not know. But at
any rate the ham is excellent and has been the cause
of much pleasant conversation.

Soon after they had gone Rachel and I began to
contemplate bathing in the river. We were still con-
templating it when we heard that one of the men had
caught a pirai. A pirai is a fish from four to six inches
long, with a large head and a great number of sharp
teeth. It travels in a shoal, and if the shoal attacks you,
which I believe it often does, you are completely
devoured before you can do anything about it. So
when we heard that a pirai had been caught in home
waters we decided not to bathe. Instead, I went off
into the bush and had a most interesting and delightful
time hunting for potential walking sticks, until the
wretched Whisky followed and found me out. And
then he went quite mad, rushing round me, leaping
into the air, and barking hysterically until I consented
to turn back. Perhaps he sensed danger, knew that

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somewhere near a tiger was lurking in the shadows,
watching, waiting for an opportunity to spring. But
it is far more probable that he was animated, not by
any protective feeling, but merely by his usual
determination to annoy.

Meanwhile the others had decided to prospect for
gold on the other side of the river. So armed with
picks and shovels, batelles (an iron pan in which the
gravel is washed), and, of course, bush knives, they set
out, and having crossed the river in a coreal, pushed
and fought their way through what seems to have been
a dense mass of prickly undergrowth until they came to
a creek. Here they dug and washed with great vigour
for some considerable time, but eventually came back
without any gold.

Juan, by the way, has returned with another boat
and a further supply of stores, so we are starting off
to-morrow at dawn. This place is lovely, but there is
not really enough to do and we are all glad to be
moving on.

April igth. On the River

Last night we camped for the first time in raw bush.
For the first time I pitched my tent, and slept in it.

We left Koriabo yesterday morning not more than
an hour later than we had intended, taking with us as
much of the stores as could be packed into the boat.
Quite a large dump remains at Koriabo, and we have
left a couple of men in charge. As soon as we reach
Arakaka the boat will be sent down for it. The rest of
the men are either in the boat with us or in the coreal
alongside. This coreal is something of a mystery, for

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nobody seems to know where it came from or who it
belongs to. Juan says that as a coreal was an absolute
necessity he 'made arrangements', and when we ask
what the arrangements were, he explains in such
peculiar English that nobody can understand. How-
ever it is certainly very usefoL

About five miles from Koriabo the river became full
of tacubas, principally submerged ones, on which we
constantly stuck. It poured with rain, we sat in pools
of water while more water dripped down the back of
our necks. Altogether I began, after enduring it for
nine or ten hours, to suspect that life in the wilds was
not entirely unmixed delight. Juan showed signs of
wanting us to go on all night, and sleep in the bottom
of the boat, but we spotted a place where it was quite
possible to make a landing, which we did about five-
thirty, just before it got dark.

We cut a clearing, put up the tents and beds, and
within an hour of landing we were all sitting in
Rachel's and my tents (temporarily combined to make
a dining-room), eating a most delicious dinner of
tinned salmon, marmite, pears and tea. Before dinner
Juan, who had got over his disappointment at our
refusal to sleep in the boat, made swizzles, which were
excellent and most cheering. After dinner we talked
and played the gramophone, and after congratulating
ourselves on our comfortable, dry and generally
enviable situation, went to bed. At least the others
did. I went outside and spent some time helping
Juan to sling his hammock. The can? > looked very-
romantic all lit up, for there was still a lamp in every
tent, and down on the shore the crew had a fire

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burning beside their hammocks. The rain had stopped
and the forest was alive with fireflies.

Rather unwillingly I went into my tent, but I was
soon in bed and asleep, for sitting all day in a cramped
position either in the blazing sun or in rain is very
exhausting.

Juan called me this morning at half-past five with a
cup of strong black coffee, which he makes exceedingly
well. He tells me that he can also cook, and I know for
a fact that he can sew, because he mended the lining
of my hat. Altogether a man of parts, and one to be
seriously considered. But this is digressing. We
dressed and had some food. Then the camp was
broken up, the bedding put back into the boat, and
by seven o'clock we were on the river again and last
night's camp was a thing of the past.

Early morning on the river! If only I could capture
the magical beauty of it and keep it with me always!
The gracious cool, pristine, inviolate; the stillness, the
enchanted light, and clear, clear springing freshness!
Giant trees hung with serpentine lianes mirrored in
the glassy water, their overhanging branches covered
with life plants and orchids. Our boat slips round a
bend in the river and then, slowly, the sun comes up.

So, I think, must the whole world have been at the
beginning of time, after the darkness of creation had
rolled away and the first morning dawned upon the
earth.

Soon after eleven we stopped on a sand patch at the
side of the river, and had what everyone but me calls
breakfast, in spite of the obvious fact that it is lunch.
By now it was grillingly hot, an endless variety of

1 20

OBSTRUCTIONS IN THE RIVER

THE RIVER

insects bit, stung, and got into the food, and every
three minutes it rained. Not with any violence. Rather
as a reminder that the rainy season is upon us. We
took the warning and pulled the cape groundsheets
that Rachel and I wear, and Maurice and Gwen's
mackintoshes out of the bedding (Juan gets wet), and
the result is that it has'nt rained once since lunch.

There was one bad rapid to be crossed this after-
noon. We got out on to a rock, the crew jumped into
the water, and with the aid of a rope, the engine, and
a great deal of shouting and excitement, the boat was
hauled over in a little less than an hour.

The river is now much 'cleaner* than it was farther
back, and we have not stuck on more than six tacubas
since lunch. The captain, optimistic man, thinks that
we shall reach Arakaka before nightfall if no more
serious obstacles are encountered.

April ifih. Arakaka

Long ago in Georgetown we first heard of Arakaka.
An odd attractive name, we thought, and for some
time it remained just that an odd attractive name.
Then, as plans were made, and the day of departure
drew near, Arakaka, though distant, became a reality.
At Morawhanna it began to take definite shape. At
Mount Everhart it was a large and flourishing town,
and by the time we reached Koriabo it had attained
gigantic proportions. It was a city, a very centre of
light and learning. We all felt that our lives had been
spent with one great end in view to get to Arakaka.
And yesterday evening, as the moon was rising, we got
there.

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From the river bank there is a long pathway leading
to the government rest house, which I will presently
describe. Having left us there, the path continues up
a slight hill to Arakaka proper. First comes the police
station with the black corporal inside sitting busily at
his table. Then past several more huts to The People's
Store, kept by no other person than the Chinaman
Chee a Fat, about whom we have heard from Juan,
and among ourselves talked so much and with such
lively interest. He seems to keep everything in the
world in his shop, so perhaps I shall be able to buy a
greatly needed pair of sock suspenders there.

Next to The People's Store there is an empty
boarded-up hut called Sproston's. Once, it too was a
store, but that was in Arakaka's dog days, when it was
a mining centre and had more than a hundred inhabi-
tants. Now Sproston has gone, and his store has
nothing in it but a ghost.

There is very little more of Arakaka. The path goes
down a short steep hill covered with hard but slippery
mud, and vanishes into the river.

I believe that there are a few more huts farther back
towards the forest, and there is a fine, broad, grassy
trail which is very important to look at, but it leads
nowhere. At least we do not think that it does. One
fine day when we are feeling really energetic, Rachel
and I are going to see what happens at the other end.

Meanwhile here we are most comfortably ensconced
in the rest house. We have been here a whole night
and the better part of a day, and we are still being
astonished at its comfort and magnificence. It is even
larger than the one at Koriabo, having two verandas

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and three rooms, counting the bathroom. There are
wooden steps leading up to it in front, and down again
at the back. There is a kitchen range, a pump, and a
shower which, depending on the pump, works; and on
the front veranda are chairs and a table at which I
am writing. One of the chairs is exceedingly comfort-
able, and has arms and movable extensions on which
you can put your feet. I have never seen a chair of
this kind before. It is certainly an excellent invention
and the only pity is that there should be but one
specimen on the veranda, for the occupier's enjoyment
is just slightly marred because of what the others on
less comfortable chairs may be thinking.

A quiet, lovely afternoon! All the clothes have been
washed and are hanging out to dry. Profiting by the
sunshine Gwen and Rachel have washed their hair as
well, and that, too, is hanging out to dry. Nothing
could be more peaceful.

Sitting here in this high sunlit clearing it is hardly
possible to realize that we were ever part of the seeth-
ing, clamorous masses back in the world. Towns,
traffic, railway stations, the South of France, going to
parties, people I knew how utterly remote and un-
real they seem! Something remembered at a great
distance, and after many years. And it is not even the
feeling that we are living in a far away part of the
world, but rather that we are on some other planet.
My mind, as the black men say, tells me that there
was once a time when the four of us, shadowed by
Solomon, Soo, and the snakes, were not walking,
talking, eating, and up to a point sleeping together.
When Juan had never been heard of, when meals were

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not a matter of paramount importance, when there
were no strings of onions hanging over the fire, no
dishes to be washed up, no insects that bit. When, to
continue, Gwen was not permanently occupied with
the packing or unpacking of chop boxes, and we did
not know about Maurice's diary. When, in conclusion,
I was not trying to teach Rachel (a) to refrain from
flicking her cigarette ash on to the floor, (b) not to
pass biscuits in her fingers instead of handing me the
tin, and (c) to speak distinctly. At first I used to
retaliate by speaking aggressively loudly and with
quite unnecessary distinctness, but this had no effect,
so now I mumble and gabble, so that she cannot hear
either, and continually has to say 'What?' Our inter-
course is something like this:

RACHEL : 'Mmmmmmmmmmmm. *

ME: 'What do you say?'

RACHEL: "Mmmmmmmmmmmm/

ME: I am very sorry, Rachel, but I haven't the
faintest idea what you are talking about/

She shouts it.

Pause.

ME: 'Mmmmmmmmmmmm.'

RACHEL: 'What?'

ME : 'Mmmmmmmmmmmm. '

RACHEL: 'What did you say, Joan?'

I shout it.

The result of this game is general irritation But
to return to the beginning of this long, long paragraph,
my mind may tell me that there was a time when none
of these things were, but I cannot believe it,. Nor do I
wish to do so. I love the life; it is satisfying and healthy

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and sensible, and in spite of ash on the floor and
mumbled conversation, I like the people. The forest
is wonderful beyond all telling, and although the
ridiculous happenings of everyday life certainly take
a much larger and more prominent place than they
did, yet there is always the undercurrent of excitement
and adventure. Pleasant companionship, beautiful
surroundings, food and leisure for thought, and an
attractive person willing to mend one's hat what
more could anyone desire? 'The world is too much
with us 5 , Wordsworth wrote, and he knew what he
was writing about.

April i^th. Arakaka

Another lovely, serene day. Outside the rest house
the whole world is smiling. Alas that inside it the
smiles and serenity should so conspicuously be lacking!
Everyone is unsociable, preoccupied, and in a bad
temper. And why? Because through no fault of
mine a wretched fish got sent away.

It happened in the earlier part of the afternoon
when they were all sleeping or pretending to sleep. A
woman came down the path carrying a basket in which
was a large dead uncooked fish, very unpleasant look-
ing. She started showing off its points and offering it
for sale, so I told her to go round to the back door and
show it to the Mistress (Gwen), as I had nothing to do
with the food. She disappeared and I returned to my
book.

At tea time I remembered the fish and asked
whether it had been bought.

'What fish? 3

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I explained how the woman had come with it and how,
very properly, I had sent her on to higher quarters.

'Well/ said Gwen in conclusion, 'now there will
only be Yam for supper/ Hence the general gloom
and disapproval.

There has been a slight change of plan. We had
intended, at one time, to walk from here to Five Stars
(forty miles), but fortunately one of us has changed our
minds, and we are going to continue up the river, if a
suitably light boat can be acquired. In order to save
weight we have sent most of the baggage on ahead by
coreal. As it includes all my personal belongings and
attire I hope very sincerely that the coreals do not
come to grief in the rapids.

Something very important must have happened
recently in Rachel's life, for she has come on to the
veranda with her diary and is writing in it. This diary
is an intermittent business. I think the last time she
wrote in it was shortly after our departure from Dover,
and it is so illegible that even she cannot read any entry
but the one she is writing I wonder what it can be
now probably something uncomplimentary about
me because of that infernal fish.

April i6th. Arakaka

There has been a crime, an attempt upon our lives
and property.

Yesterday evening we were invited by Ghee a Fat
to come round to his house. So we dressed up in our
best clothes, and soon after dinner we started off
through the trees, and in ten minutes time we reached
the house, which is close to the river.

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Ghee a Fat met us at the door, escorted us inside,
and offered us drinks. We remained there talking for
some time, and then got up to leave,

On our return to the rest house we were informed
excitedly by one of the crew called Jackson that half
an hour after our departure for Ghee a Fat's a large
sun blind at the end of the veranda suddenly caught
fire. He and Tilla, a half- Indian half-negro girl who
cooks, were sitting in the kitchen and were, he said,
'notified of the fact 5 by the barking of Whisky. They
rushed out, Jackson managed to pull down the blind,
threw it over the veranda on to the ground and flung
buckets of water over it. It was by the merest chance
that the thatched roof did not catch, in which case the
whole place would have been razed to the ground in a
few minutes, together with our personal luggage and
the stores a death blow to the expedition. The
incendiary, evidently someone anxious that we should
not start our bush store on the frontier, found out when
the rest house would be empty and chose that time to
set it alight, not allowing for the presence of Jackson,
Tilla, and Whisky.

Juan and I went down to the river, he armed to the
teeth, and sure enough there were marks on the damp
muddy ground of small rubber-soled shoes, and a
coreal which was moored there before dinner had
vanished. I did not see these evidences myself because,
for one thing, the river bank is dangerously slippery,
and for another I did not want to make my only pair
of dry shoes unnecessarily wet. But Juan saw them,
and we went back to the rest house convinced that the
assailant had waited until we were safely at Ghee a

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Fat's with drinks in our hands and the light of conversa-
tion in our eyes, then darted to the rest house, set fire
to the blind, and escaped by way of the river.

Juan and Maurice went up to the police station and
after a long time succeeded in waking the corporal,
who indignantly denied that he had ever been any-
thing but entirely awake.

c De police', he said, 'never sleep.'

He donned his uniform and his hat, which is like
the kind worn by very important Girl Guides, and
came down with a note-book in his hand to the rest
house. First he took the evidence of Jackson and Tilla,
who told their stories simultaneously and with a great
dea) of gesture. Then he returned to the veranda.

'Did you,' he asked Maurice, 'observe any uneasi-
ness on the part of anyone who might have perpetrated
the crime?'

We opened a bottle of rum and suggested that he
should help us to drink it, which he did, at first with
diffidence and then with undisguised enjoyment.
After he had gone we examined the remains of the
blind again, and discovered on the ground below
where it had hung a piece of charred faggot. Then
we went to bed.

This morning I woke with the sun and saw the
corporal and his assistant creeping about the dew-
drenched bush looking for footprints. Later Chee a
Fat came round to inspect the scene of the crime, and
we all consulted together as to who could have done
it. Chee a Fat suggested Jackson. 'That boy,' he said,
'has a rascal face.'

I fetched my camera and got several good photo-

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graphs of him and of us and of the two black policemen
examining the blind.

Good Friday. On the River

Owen, Rachel, Maurice and I left Arakaka yester-
day in Ghee a Fat's boat, which is a hundred times
smaller and more uncomfortable than the Golden Hind.

Juan remained behind so that he might receive and
bring up the stores that were left at Koriabo, but most
unfortunately the wretched 'Whiskydorg 3 , as he calls
it, is with us, and I would never have believed it
possible that a dog could be so idiotic and annoying.
It paddles about in the mud when we stop to have our
lunch, then walks on the food. It jumps ashore when
we are in the middle of a rapid, the men straining
every nerve to prevent the boat being swept back-
wards, and then we have to go back and rescue it.
This morning it fell into the water, and on being
thrown back into the boat we were all balancing
on a partially submerged log while the two Indians
axed and sawed their way through a barricade of
fallen trees it darted forward and lay on my
cushion, which is now soaking wet. For sheer idiocy
that dog is unequalled. It ought to be in a museum.

We camped last night at Eclypse Falls. They are a
mile long and very rapid, and at the beginning the
river is almost dammed up by an immense deposit of
huge flat rocks. The boat had to be unloaded, and
everything in it carried round (a mile) by land. How-
ever, as it was evening by the time we reached the falls,
we decided to make camp at once and leave the
droghing until the morning.

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The bush about these parts is particularly raw, and
we became very hot making a clearing. There was a
regular tangle of bush rope and undergrowth to be
cut away. Strange how camps vary! Actually the
surroundings are exactly the same: darkness, dead
leaves on the ground, ants, croaking of frogs,
and so on, but one camp could no more be mistaken
for another than London for Constantinople. Our
first camp was delightful, this one felt dangerous and
unfriendly. I had an unpleasant feeling all the time
and was glad to leave it.

This morning everything was droghed across to the
topside of the falls by way of the wide trail that runs
from one end to the other. The men started working
very early, but by the time the boat had been hauled
over the rapids and was reloaded, it was past eleven,
so we had lunch before starting, two sardines each,
tea, and a nasty fruit called a Soursop, which was a
present from one of the Indians.

The river is far more beautiful than it was. It twists
and turns continuously, and has narrowed so much
that in places it is hardly wider than a creek. Gigantic
overhanging trees throw deep shadows upon the water,
and sometimes an orchid or a brilliant flower falls
from the topmost branches, and floats quietly away
down stream.

All day long the silence on the river and in the
forest is almost unbroken. At present it is entirely un-
broken, even the engine is silent, for the river is so
shallow that the two Indians are poling the boat along.
Rachel, athwart a roll of bedding, is immersed in a
Spanish grammar, Maurice and Gwen are asleep,

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THE RIVER

she beside me on a hard wooden seat six inches wide,
he on the chop box which has nails sticking out of it.
The amount they sleep is phenomenal, especially
Gwen. I am sure that it is fattening to sleep so much,
and have suggested this, but it was received with
indifference.

At Ascot, where I was once at school, all the
statues in the chapel are draped to-day in black
and nobody is allowed to speak until midday. Then,
as there are perpetual services during the remainder
of the day, they are further prevented. I remember
that we always had boiled eggs for breakfast on
Good Friday, and the odd noise that a hundred
eggs made being cracked in the silence. We have
stuck on a submerged tacuba, and are going round in
circles. It has started to rain.

Easter Sunday. Camp

On Friday night we, having found a suitable place
to camp, camped there. On Saturday we continued
struggling up the river. It is becoming drier and drier,
and we have to stop every five minutes and spend an
hour hacking through tacubas. We have given up
climbing out on to logs on these occasions and just
step overboard into the river, which is usually not
more than a couple of feet deep. Certain care in
doing this is required, for after rain the water is
clouded, so that you do not know whether you may
not be going to tread on an alligator, a stingray, or
into a hole.

The camping ground last night was in a beautiful
position near a creek, but I had a most uncomfortable

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bad night, and feel exceedingly tired to-day in conse-
quence. That fool Whisky disappeared into the forest
soon after dinner, and we all thought he was done for,
but soon after midnight I was awakened by something
knocking against the leg of my camp bed. Thinking
that it was a tiger, I seized my knife, but it turned out
to be Whisky. I felt cold and stifled by the mosquito
net, and the head of my bed had managed to get con-
siderably lower than the foot. About two o'clock I was
wakened again by Gwen wandering about the camp
with a hurricane lamp, hunting for the bottle of
ammonia to put on her mosquito bites, and at five we
got up, dressed in the dark, rolled up the tents, and
got off at six-thirty.

We had not gone more than fifteen yards before we
rounded a bend and found that the river was entirely
blocked by three immense trees that had fallen
straight across it. When we started chopping our way
through them it was still cool and pleasant, but by the
time we had finished the sun was high in the heavens
and streaming down for all its equatorial worth. It is
bearable until midday, and then it is not. The Indians,
however, do not appear to mind it in the least. But
then they never appear to mind anything. Their im-
passivity is amazing. They never move a muscle of
their faces, even when we are crossing a rapid or
sticking on a submerged tacuba. Nor do they pay the
slightest attention when we speak to them. All day
long they stand there in the bows, wielding their poles
made of a light strong wood called yari-yari, and when
the boat runs aground on a sandbank, they jump out
and lift it (and us) over without the smallest difficulty.

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THE RIVER

Early in the afternoon we encountered the highest
and fiercest rapid I have yet seen. There were two
sheer drops, each one seven or eight feet high, and a
rushing torrent of water. The contents of the boat
were unloaded on to the bank and carried round. We
landed on a rock, and while attempting to jump from
it to another one, I unfortunately fell into part of the
rapid, severely damaging the funny bone of my right
elbow. Also I got very wet.

Meanwhile the boat at the foot of the rapid was
giving trouble. The face of the river was dotted about
with men, some swimming, some up to their waists
and shoulders in water, grasping a rope attached to
the boat, which was doing its utmost to return to
Arakaka. However, it was eventually drawn to the
foot of the rapid and then slowly, bit by bit, hauled up.
It was most exciting to watch. The others helped to
haul it up the second drop. I sat in soaking garments
on a rock, and nursed my elbow. The whole thing w r as
over in less than an hour, which was a real feat on the
part of the captain and men.

Once more in still waters we slipped silently along
in the sunshine and I lay out on the bedding in varying
attitudes trying to dry. At one place we passed a sand-
bank on which a host of green and yellow butterflies
had settled, while many more fluttered in the air above
them. The effect was extraordinarily lovely, a fairy
encampment, a miniature Field of the Cloth of
Gold.

Farther on we came upon a succession of small
rapids, so leaving the men to get the boat over, we
clambered ashore by way of a fallen tree, for the bank

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was quite unscalable, and cut our way across a penin-
sula and through a deserted Indian field. At the
other side we met with the river again, and climbing
down another precipitous bank, rejoined the waiting
boat.

We made camp soon after sunset and, as usual,
became very hot making a clearing for the tents.
Several buckets of water were brought up from the
river by Santos, the Portuguese boy, who has become
our personal attendant, and we all had hot baths
before dinner.

I have heard two most interesting things to-day.
First, the Six-o'clock Bee, which whistles at six
o'clock. Hence its name. And then, as night was
falling, I heard the Howlers.

There was a roaring in the far distance. Swiftly it
neared and swelled in volume until it was close upon
us, and the uproar resounded through the darkness.
Never can I forget the primeval strength and savagery
of that sound. Full of wonder I stood rooted to the
spot, suddenly intensely aware of the mysteriousness
and danger of the forest.

It is almost unbelievable that this astounding volume
of sound, ferocious as that in the lion house at feeding
time, should be made by a few monkeys no more than
eighteen inches high. The howling baboons, as they
are inaccurately termed, for there are no baboons in
South America, have orange and black hair and a
curious goitre-like construction in the throat with
which they make the roaring. They must have come
fairly close, for the noise was tremendous, and then it
faded away.

'34

THE RIVER

The day before yesterday we met the three coreals
we had sent up to Five Stars with cases, on their way
back to Arakaka. They spent the night in the camp,
and the forest was unrecognizable because of the talk-
ing and the laughter of the negroes after the silent
Indians. Down on the shore where they had slung
their hammocks there was a constant flow of life and
movement.

They went on early next morning, and last night
there was silence once more except that all night long
I heard faint drums being beaten in some distant
Indian encampment.

And now it is ten o'clock. The camp is in darkness
save for the dying embers of the fire on which we
cooked our dinner. The tents are full of sleeping
people. Apart from the chorus of frogs and cicadas,
the only sound is that of Santos singing himself to
sleep.

Monday

We started off again very early this morning, for
there were only three more points so the captain
said to Five Stars. We went on and on, turning
bend after bend.

'How much farther? 5 someone would ask.

* Another point. 5 And the inquirer would spend
half an hour wondering exactly what it could be that
constituted a point, for apparently it has nothing
whatever to do with a bend.

All of a sudden we stopped, and for no apparent
reason. It was not a rapid, the tacubas were no worse
th'an usual, and surely it was too early for luncheon

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camp! And then the explanation dawned upon us,
for there on the bank stood a very black person in
spectacles, dressed in a curious flannel garment. He
made us a deep bow.

'Good morning, Ladies, Gentlemen, Captain, and
Crew! 5

We answered him in kind, unstifFened ourselves with
difficulty, stepped out on to a log, and so ashore.

Our river journey was over.

136

top: MR. COOK'S SHOP AT FIVE STARS
bottom: AUTHOR ON BOARD 'THE GOLDEN HIND'

CHAPTER VI

THE JOURNEY THROUGH
THE FOREST

Tuesday evening. Five Stars

WE climbed the steep bank at the top of which stands
Cook's shop Cook being the person who had
greeted us and there we waited until the boat was
unloaded. This done, we started off with the chop
box to look for somewhere to live. Somebody's house
was suggested, so away we went in the direction of it,
and tramped for a long twenty minutes up and down
hills, through plantain groves and fields of sugar cane
until at last we came upon a hut with a palm-thatched
roof, and a hard mud floor. It had no doors, and was
already fully occupied by the owner and his relations,
and the whole place was overrun with fowls, and half-
witted Indians who squatted on the ground and stared.
The heat was terrific, for it was in the very centre of
the clearing, and there was not a tree anywhere.

So we turned sadly away and resumed our search.

At half-past one we were still searching. There did
not appear to be a single place in Five Stars near
water and in the shade where we could pitch our
tents.

"Well, at any rate let's have lunch/ we said.

But for some reason best known to himself, Maurice
vetoed this excellent plan, and on we went, for any-
thing was better than argument in that heat. Weary,

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hungry, and very hot, we trailed miserably from one
impossible place to another.

At last, when life was very low indeed, an unattrac-
tive hollow on the edge of the forest was selected,
principally because it was in the shade, and had a
creek near by with a small quantity of dangerously
still-looking water in it. The undergrowth was cleared
away, and at last we had lunch, which was greatly
appreciated, as we had had nothing to eat since six
o'clock in the morning.

The remainder of the afternoon and evening was
spent watching the loads being brought into the camp.
I went to bed early because it seemed the most sensible
thing to do.

This morning we explored Five Stars, but the
memory of yesterday's exploration is still present, and
my impression remains the same; a high hot place,
with a number of confusing paths leading nowhere.

Lunch was a silent meal, broken only by an acri-
mbnious argument as to the superiority of field boots
or light shoes for walking trails. Relations, in every
sense, are a little strained. The latter part of the river
journey was beautiful and interesting, but it was also
rather trying being cooped up at such close quarters
in such uncomfortable positions for so many hot hours
on end. And now that we are here in this dark, hot,
fly-ridden and unpleasant hole, there is nothing what-
ever to do but to wait for Juan and the stores, and
argue.

Santos went down to the river this morning to wash
clothes, but returned shortly after his departure,
looking very crestfallen. We asked what the matter

138

THE JOURNEY THROUGH THE FOREST

was. At first he made no reply, but stood sheepishly
in the middle of the camp chewing a bit of stick.
Finally he confessed that some Indians had seen him
washing the clothes, and had laughed at him, calling
him a woman, and that he could not bear to be
laughed at.

This complicates matters, as I have only two pairs
of khaki trousers, and both are not being washed by
him ... A funny little Indian boy has appeared with
nothing on but a hat.

Thursday. Five Stars

Juan turned up yesterday, having walked up
through the forest from Arakaka. He looked like a
tramp, with very little on, and a heavy load on his
back. He explained that the Indian who had been
carrying it had got tired, so he had taken it from him.
Soo, who had also remained at Arakaka, arrived an
hour later, full of conversation and exclamations over
J.'s prowess as a walker. I was delighted to see him
(J., not Soo), especially when he had had a bath, and
shaved, and put on his patent leather shoes.

Dinner was a most cheerful meal, and after dinner
was cheerful too. There is a great deal to be said for
fresh blood everything, when it is lively, and so very
enterprising.

He called me this morning with the usual black
coffee, and after breakfast we emptied and re-packed
my canister, hunting for a cigarette case, which was
eventually discovered in my pocket.

Later in the morning Gwen and I had words.
Rather, she told me about my shortcomings, which

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seem to have no end. However, on my pleading guilty
to all sorts of unjust accusations, and apologizing for
innumerable crimes I had never committed, peace
was re-established, and we went down quite amicably
to the river to wash such of our clothes as had not been
washed by Santos. While doing this the soap fell into
the river, and in the effort to retrieve it I took an
involuntary bath. Gwen took one too, but hers was on
purpose, and more or less under an umbrella.

A crowd of Indians has just appeared in the camp
and they are squatting on the ground looking at us.
They inspected the insides of the tents, and were
hugely amused by Rachel's mosquito boots. One
of the babies has started to wail, which is unfortunate,
as they will almost certainly remain here all day.

The black crew, by the way, became mutinous and
discontented, so we got rid of them, and they will have
to make their own way through to Venezuela. JSantos
and Jackson also came whining, and complaining that
they had had no breakfast the day before yesterday, so
we got rid of them too. Juan has produced a large
fierce-looking Indian who says he will be our c cheP.
Like all Indians he is perfectly silent. As a matter of
fact he can't very well be anything else, for he only
understands Carib and a little Spanish, and we only
speak English and French. We believe that his name
is Daniel.

Last night we tried the planchette. It wrote c Ask
Juan what he did with the two men at the creek'. So
we asked him, and he told us that the last time he was
up in the forest he left a couple of men at his camp

140

THE JOURNEY THROUGH THE FOREST

with a fortnight's provisions, and that they disappeared
and were never heard of again. Ominous tale!

To-morrow we start off through the forest, and
intend to go fifteen miles to a certain Pepe's Creek,
where we will stop for a few days and prospect for
gold while waiting for the stores to follow us up. There
are so many stores and so few Indians willing to carry
them that several journeys will have to be made.

We have discovered that Daniel's name is not Daniel,
but Karakel; and Baby (the Hymarali) has died, so at
the moment we are blessedly snakeless. To-morrow is
my birthday.

This concludes the list of topical events.

Saturday, April 2$th. Pepe's Creek

Yesterday morning it hardly seems possible that
yesterday morning we were in the remotely distant
Five Stars we rose at half-past five, pulled the camp
to pieces, rolled it up into loads, and started off into
the forest with nine Indian droghers soon after seven.

The Indians vanished immediately. We too vanished
soon after crossing the long and extremely dangerous
tacuba at Five Stars, because we lost the trail, and
went for what in miles corresponds to an hour's
charge in the wrong direction, following a hunting
trail. Eventually we were pursued by three small
Indian boys who led us to a distant place, where we
found Juan and more Indians sitting round a tree
waiting for us.

Once more we started off, and at an even greater
pace than before. Juan in front, looking like a wild

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man of the woods, with his fair hair on end, a heavy
pack containing his hammock and the rest of his
belongings on his back, and nothing on the rest of him
but a pair of sandals and some trousers. He never
lifted his eyes from the ground, and sped along at about
ten miles an hour. Gwen followed, then Maurice,
Rachel, and finally me.

The trail was muddy, precipitous, and far too narrow
for anyone to walk along. Frequently it was altogether
invisible, and then we had to hunt about for signs of
cutting or blazed trees. On and on, faster and faster
we went. Obstructing branches hit me in the face. I
was completely out of breath and had a dreadful stitch.

'Would you mind/ I said to Juan as icily as circum-
stances permitted, c going at a more reasonable pace.'

'Of course/ he replied. 'We go slow/ And he would
slacken the pace to five miles an hour for five minutes,
and then career off faster than before,

I felt bitter, and began having imaginary conversa-
tions with myself.

c lt is perfectly ridiculous,' I said furiously, 'to go at
this unheard-of pace. If we were only going a few
miles I should not mind in the least, but on a long
journey one must naturally conserve one's strength.
Anyone with a glimmering of intelligence would
realize this.' I tripped over a spreading root. 'God
damn these bloody trees! And to think/ I continued
with growing bitterness, 'that I have actually paid to
experience this hell! and that it is my birthday!'
This last thought nearly reduced me to tears.

We stopped for a few blessed moments in order to
hunt for the trail, and when it was found Gwen said

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THE JOURNEY THROUGH THE FOREST

that she was going to lead for a bit. I heaved a sigh
of relief. At last we would go at a sensible rate. But
to my horror and amazement she darted away through
the trees even faster than Juan had done, detecting the
trail where none was visible, racing up perpendicular
hills, through swamps and creeks, o'er crag and
torrent, etc. I . was utterly confounded as well as
outraged. Could this be Gwen whom I imagined I
had known with all her possibilities for so many
years? She was developing in the strangest way.
Quite like Rima, I thought, as she vanished round a
distant bend, but with my heart pounding against
my ribs much, much less attractive.

Later on someone else took her place, but there was
very little alleviation. At half-past one we stopped for
lunch by a creek, and lapped up the muddy-looking
water as though it were nectar. I was hotter than I
had ever been in my life, and quite speechless from
hunger and exhaustion. We all flung ourselves down
on the ground, which was damp mud, and no bed ever
felt more wonderful. Gwen too, I noticed with some-
thing approaching satisfaction, was feeling rather less
bright than when we started.

However, when we had sucked limes we began to
recover, and when we had drunk several cups of strong
black coffee, eaten, and rested, we all felt completely
refreshed, and set off again with the lightest of hearts.

Nearly an hour must have passed when we noticed
that the forest was becoming darker and darker, and
was unnaturally still, as though it were waiting
listening. And then far away in the distance we heard
a strange rushing noise, which grew louder every

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moment. It was as though a host of invisible people,
talking, laughing, and singing, was sweeping rapidly
towards us. Nearer and nearer they came, and the
forest grew dark as night. Then, when they were
almost upon us, there was a sudden swift stirring in the
trees a pause and down came the rain.

It was not rain as we know it in Europe, but a
solid sheet of water. The noise of it beating through
the leaves and on to the ground was deafening, and in
a minute we were drenched to the skin, which was
deliciously cooling. Then came a clap of thunder, and
the rain poured down with added vehemence. We
paid no attention to it except that the sudden relief
from heat and the excitement caused by the thunder
made us quicken our pace, and we arrived here at
Pepe's Creek half an hour before the Indians. We
must have made an odd procession, four indomitable
rain-drenched midgets striding along one behind the
other through the tall forest, and the thunder rolling
all around us.

This is a delightful place. The creek water is clear
and delicious, and the ground is sandy, so we shall not
have to paddle about the camp in a sea of mud.

While waiting for the droghers to arrive we busied
ourselves making clearings for the tents, and later,
when they were up, we stripped off our wet clothes, and
had hot baths in basins, for the tin tub has not yet
arrived, and the ground is too rough and uneven for
my rubber bath, which is very collapsible.

In the fullness of time, when we were clean and dry
and full of well-being, the risotto was cooked, and we
sat round a smoky fire in a deserted logie, and had

144

THE JOURNEY THROUGH THE FOREST

dinner. A logic is a shelter made by running four
forked poles or saplings into the ground, adding several
more as cross bars, and laying palm leaves over the top
of it. The Indians put them up in less than half an
hour, and with their families live in them in the utmost
discomfort.

This particular logie must have been erected some
time ago, for it is in a very bad state of repair, and the
rain pours through it in some places and drips in
others. Still, we enjoyed our dinner, and after we had
finished it Juan produced a bottle of port, in which my
health was drunk. Conversation followed, punctuated
by general posts in order to avoid holes in the roof.

Soon after ten the expedition retired for the night.
One by one the lights in the tents were blown out, and
I fell asleep to the sound of frogs and cicadas, and the
endless drip of rain falling from the trees. So ended
the strangest birthday I .have yet had.

Monday. Pepe's Creek

A camp on sandy soil is a snare and a delusion. It is
far, far better to wade about in mud than to be tor-
mented, as we all are, by hordes of sandflies. They are
so small that they can get through any mosquito net
without the slightest difficulty, and they are unbeliev-
ably savage. If it weren't for the ammonia life really
wouldn't be worth living. Karakel as a chef is another
delusion. Far from cooking for us we have to cook for
him, while all he does is to lurk in the shadows near
the logie, and listen to our conversation, or vanish into
the forest with Juan, who says that he has second sight,
that he is going to marshal the tribes over the Border,

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stir up a revolution, and make himself King of the
Forest, and that he is a very interesting man; still,
we'd rather have had a cook.

It was still raining when we woke this morning, but
cleared towards noon. Maurice insisted on moving the
stores from the logie in case the ex-crew who are
expected to pass through the camp on their way to
Venezuela should steal anything. Endless tins of tea,
the chop box, and strings of garlic were flung into the
nearest tents, which were Rachel's and mine. As soon
as this was done we took refuge from the rain in our
now chaotic tents, and tried to restore a little order, and
while Rachel was restoring it in hers she discovered
that the lid of the golden syrup tin had come off, and
the contents emptied themselves all over everything
else. It was a depressing sight.

Last night a curious thing happened. The others
went to bed early, but I was talking to Juan, and did
not put my light out until shortly before midnight.
Then I lay in bed idly watching the glowing remains
of the camp fire, and listening to the incessant croaking
of the frogs . How alive the forest was ; and yet, strangely,
how quiet! There was a sudden crackling as a dead
leaf fell on the fire; a little flame leapt up, flickered on
the trunks of the nearer trees, and died down again.
And then with startling suddenness the silence was
shattered.

"Look out! 5 someone called urgently.

I ran outside, but the camp was in darkness. The
three tents showed dimly amongst the trees; everyone
seemed to be sleeping. Then I noticed that Rachel was
sitting up in bed.

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THE JOURNEY THROUGH THE FOREST

'Is anything the matter?' I asked. She was still half
asleep, and did not appear to understand, so I flashed
my torch on to her, and repeated the question more
loudly. As I did so there was a great slow crash in the
distance some giant tree falling. By now she was
quite awake, and said that she had dreamt that some
huge thing was falling and would crush us. The tree
must actually have crashed as she called out, for it was
some considerable way off.

To-day, Juan, who has been boasting that he would
be the first one of us to find gold, set off to prospect.
He dug an enormous pit just across the creek. Instantly
it filled with water, and Rachel was employed to help
bail it out. After several hours' labour he came upon a
large slab of immovable stone, so the pit had to be
abandoned. But as he came to the surface he dis-
covered a speck of gold resting on his shoulder. At
least he swears that that is where he found it. I expect
he chipped it off one of the nuggets he used to wear in
Georgetown on his watch chain.

I have discovered an excellent new way of washing
clothes. Having removed your belt, knife and revolver,
and anything of value from your pockets, you jump
into the creek fully dressed. First you cover yourself
with soap, then scrub, submerge, repeat the process,
splashing and swimming about until the rinsing is
complete, and finally emerge, clean, exercised, and
cool. I did this most of the afternoon with three pairs
of trousers and four shirts.

We had the remains of the golden syrup for tea,
and some of the murderous bread made by Blackman

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before he mutinied. It is as tough as leather, and
immensely heavy, but for some reason we all like it.
After tea Juan and I went out to track an animal that
has been prowling round the camp for several days, and
also to collect palm leaves with which to carpet the
floor of our combined kitchen-dining-and-drawing-
room. In both quests we were unsuccessful. But we
had an amusing time.

An enormous toad about a foot square has appeared
in the camp, and fixed on Rachel's tent as its head-
quarters. She dislikes it quite violently, and we have
tried every means short of murder to induce it to go
away, but without success. It just squats there and
blinks. I thought just now that a tiger was sniffing
round, but it was the toad hopping. It makes as much
noise as a man.

Darkness has fallen. We have all had hot baths, and
changed for dinner into clean dry clothes a pleasant
feeling. Maurice is in his tent writing his diary. I arn
writing mine. Rachel, on hands and knees, is blowing
up the fire. Gwen is cooking at it. Juan, who spent
last night in the leaking logie, has decided to try the
store tent, as he has no tent of his own, and is busy
hanging his hammock there. Whether he finds it
satisfactory remains to be seen, for it smells foully of
salt fish. Over the way Solomon and Soo are singing
an endless religious chant.

A peaceful, pleasant scene, made all the more
pleasant by the realization that only a few yards away,
outside the small safe circle of light, the forest, dark,
and full of danger, stretches in all directions.

Swarms of flying ants have appeared, and are the

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THE JOURNEY THROUGH THE FOREST

greatest nuisance, dropping their wings all over the
place; and a beautiful firefly that has been darting
round for some time has most unfortunately flown into
the soup, which is in process of being made.

We heard a curious new bird to-day, and on asking
Soo what kind of a bird it was, he replied, c lt is called
Mr. Tomkins. 5 Many new bites. I am devoured.
The smoke from the fire is the only thing that dis-
courages these infernal sandflies, and that has its
drawbacks. Dinner seems to be ready.

Thursday. Pepe*s Creek

The ex-crew turned up a couple of days ago, and
spent the night less than fifteen yards from our camp.
They are in an unenviable position, for their supplies
are ninning short, and as none of them are experienced
bushmen and the rains have started, they will have all
their work cut out to reach Venezuela, especially as
none of them kn w the trail. And even if they did, to
the initiated the trail is almost non-existent. We also
knew that they knew that to the nine of them there are
five of us, and that we have cases of stores. Juan assured
us that they would almost certainly creep over in the
night, cut our throats, and steal the stores. It was a dis-
turbing idea, and I felt slightly uneasy in my mind as my
tent was the outside one, and nearest to the ex-crew.
Juan rigged up an entanglement of bush rope and plates
between us and them, and persuaded me to sleep with
a loaded revolver under my pillow, which worried me
almost more than the idea of being assassinated by
the ex-crew. However, they were far too exhausted
after a day on the trail to assassinate anything, and we

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woke the following morning to find ourselves and our
stores in the same place and condition as they were
the night before.

The crew are making for a certain Dead Man's
Greek, not far over the border. Juan tells us that it got
this sinister name because of the sharp practices of a
party of Venezuelans working the gravel there.

They engaged a number of pork-knockers at a high
rate of pay. The work came to an end and the pork-
knockers were paid off. They packed their few
belongings, and set off along the trail and were
followed by their late employers till they reached the
creek now known as Dead Man's. As they descended
the slope leading down to the water the Venezuelans
shot them all dead, took back the wages they had paid
them, and returned.

It has suddenly been decided that we pack up and
start off again at crack of dawn to-morrow, and there
is a tremendous amount of business connected with the
sorting and packing of the chop boxes going on,
principally on the part of Gwen, who rends any
interrupter.

The rainy season has started in grim earnest since we
came here, and turned the forest into one vast swamp,
so the going is not likely to be easy. Rachel and I went
out for a walk along the Five Stars trail yesterday in
order to get into training, and when we came back
she in particular could scarcely be seen for mud. Even
her face was splashed with it.

Determined to have exercise, we forged ahead,
making no attempt to avoid the worst places. We slid

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THE JOURNEY THROUGH THE FOREST

down muddy banks, strode carelessly through the
creeks, and had, altogether, a grand time.

There is something curiously satisfactory about
becoming thoroughly and completely filthy. It seems
to give one a quite particular sense of freedom a
relic, I suppose, of days when one was told not to
walk in the puddles.

We passed trees with huge excrescences on the trunks
which on inquiry, not examination (for examination
might prove painful), turned out to be wood ants'
nests; and on the way back I collected quantities of
beautiful leaves, red, rose pink, and flame coloured,
and the loveliest shower of pale grey ones hanging
unexpectedly among them. The larger leaves I stuck
into my belt, the smaller into my hat and five pockets,
and so came home, and now they are adorning the
tarpaulin-covered shelter (for the logie became
impossible) in which we have most of our being.

Soo's game cock, which has been brought up all the
way from civilization in order to train it to fight, is
becoming increasingly sociable, and wanders about
quite unperturbed among the tents. Whisky is worse
than ever, and nothing, neither fair words nor foul,
will keep him out of my tent. I spent hours making an
entanglement all round it of pointed sticks, but he
pays absolutely no attention to it, and a dozen times
to-day I have found him tinder my bed. The only
effect of the entanglement is to trip me up wnen I go
into the tent in the dark. He is a miserable dog without
any pride. j

Rachel and I were both given the Scorpion Bena
to-day. It is a good deal simpler than the Si^ake Cut,

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and consists, roughly, in scratching the arm until
blood is drawn with the tail of a dead scorpion, then
rubbing the poison into the wound. The next thing to
be done is to pick up a live scorpion, and see what
happens. Rachel, intrepid woman, is even now
grubbing about the floor of the logic looking for one.
Personally I shall wait until one turns up of its own
accord.

Friday. Pepe's Creek

A day full of incident? We were to have started
early this morning, but when we woke at five-thirty we
found that it had been raining all night, and showed no
signs of abating. Juan predicted that none of the
Indians who were due to arrive with loads from Five
Stars would turn up, and that after all it would be
impossible to leave, which very considerably put Gwen
out. In the early afternoon, however, they appeared,
but by that time it was too late to start, and anyway
they were tired, and declined to droghe any farther.

We then learnt that a barrel containing all sorts of
important things had been mislaid somewhere between
Arakaka and Five Stars, also Juan's case of private
stores. So everyone became very excited and furious
with each other. The argument as to who was respon-
sible was in full swing when an Indian produced a
letter from Mr. Cook at Five Stars.

'Dear Major and Circle 5 , it ran. 'I think it advisable
to give you warning that if these present rains continue,
Pepe's Creek will rise and flood the surrounding
country. Trusting that you are enjoying the best of
health, I am, Sir, Yours respectfully, Cook.'

THE JOURNEY THROUGH THE FOREST

As the rainy season has only just started, and is
bound to continue for at least three months, we had
visions of ourselves taking to the trees.

Immediately following this staggering piece of
information there was a cry of excitement from Soo in
his logic.

'Earthquake!'

We all burst out laughing. It was really too funny
on top of all the other catastrophes. The earthquake,
which was a slight one, very soon passed off.

A continual ripple of conversation rose from the
Indians who were squatting on the ground. Gwen
selected one of them to be our hunter. He is a most
attractive Pan-like creature called Frederick, and he
will go out daily into the forest with a bow and arrow
or a gun, and bring back what Juan calls Pore.

These wild boar or peccary are probably the most
dangerous animals in the forest, for they travel in a
herd and attack at sight. There are two different
species, one very much fiercer than the other, and the
only difference between them is that the fiercer kind
have a V of white hair on the chest. At first sight,
however, the V is barely perceptible, so that until the
creatures are almost upon you you cannot be sure
whether they are the more or the less dangerous kind.
The most sensible thing when you smell them and
you can do this from a long way off is to try and
climb a tree. I say 'try 5 advisedly.

After resting for a while the Indians departed to
fetch their wives and cassava, without which they
decline to go any farther. Soo went back with them to
Five Stars to see whether his friend from Arakaka,

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whom he has summoned to be our cook, has arrived
there.

Once more quietness descended upon the camp.
Gwen and Maurice retired to their tents and slept I
washed some handkerchiefs in the creek, which is
terrifically swollen, swift, and discoloured; and then
the heat, which has been unbearable all day, reached
its climax. There was a clap of thunder, and torrential
rain. The first force of it lasted only a short time, but it
cleared the air. Gwen and Maurice must have slept
all through the storm, for there is not a sound coming
from either of the tents.

Rachel is lying on her bed learning Spanish. 'La
iglesia tiene un altar', I hear murmured, and c Quien ha
tornado la tinta 3 . Juan is squatting in the logie making
an enormous list, the thunder is growling away in the
distance, and all the trees dripping rain. A strange
life!

Monday. Pepe's Creek

Soo had a glorious 'drunk* in Five Stars, and came
back shaking all over. He admits that he cannot,
never could, and never will be able to resist rum, and
says in his own way that he would not exchange a bottle
of it for the most beautiful woman in Georgetown.

With him came his friend, now our cook. His name
is Alfred Alfonzo Gibson.

Coloured people certainly have a talent for choosing
remarkable names for their children. Venuses and
Aphrodites are common occurrences, and I have heard
on unimpeachable authority of a Trincess-of-Wales-
Beatrice-Smith 5 and a 'Queen-Victoria-broke~her-

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Coronation-Oath 5 . But perhaps the happiest of all is
one that came to light a short time ago when we were
at Five Stars. A person of various races called Wagner
the first syllable being pronounced like the action of
a dog's tail, not like the German (about this he was
most particular) came into the camp one day to pay
us a call. During the course of conversation he told us
a very long story about the theft and recapture of a
Union Jack. The story was a strange one, and difficult
to follow, so at the end of it we asked who had been the
rightful owner of the Union Jack.

'It belonged/ he said, c to a black man called Apple/

To return to Gibson. He had walked up through the
forest from Arakaka to Five Stars but could go no
farther for some time because the river was so high
that the tacuba by which we had crossed it was
several yards under rushing water. When first he
walked into the camp, having spent a heavy day on the
trail, he looked ragged and travel-stained, which was
surprising. An odd little figure, very black, with bare
feet, a warrashi on his back, and on his head a most
peculiar cap.

As soon as he arrived he darted behind a tree, and
emerged ten minutes later in all the glory of a starched
white shirt and trousers. How he managed it is beyond
understanding, for in addition to the swamps that had
to be negotiated, and the rivers to be swum, it had
rained practically all day long. But managed it he
had, and trotting briskly into the camp, addressed
himself to Gwen.

c At what hour you desire dinner, Mistress?* he
asked. We were quite overcome.

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A few of the Indian droghers who went to fetch their
wives have returned with them, and have brought
loads from the store dump at Five Stars, so we have
decided to start to-morow morning. In preparation for
this the chop box has been re-packed.

It was the first time that I had seen an Indian family
en route., and the sight is remarkable, for when an
Indian woman moves from one place to another she
carries most of the household in the warrashi on her
back. Cooking utensils, slabs of cassava, gesticulating
cocks and hens and a baby or two stick out in all
directions. With one hand she leads an older child,
with the other grasps a bush knife or line stick, while
a couple of Indian cur dogs trail dejectedly behind.
Poor creatures, they are a depressing sight. Always
painfully thin, they are mostly bald as well, because
of a habit they have of lying and rolling in the hot
embers of the fire. I suppose that they do this in an
attempt to discourage some of the innumerable
creatures that bite up here in the forest.

All are now encamped on the other side of the creek,
where they have built themselves logics.

Owen's three hens that she ordered from Five Stars
have also arrived. T]wo of them are dark, and the
other one fair. They look strong and cheerful enough,
but unfortunately, they seem to be a kind that doesn't
lay. However, they make most vigorously the noise
that usually heralds an egg, so perhaps one of these
days we shall find one.

The camp is becoming like a farmyard. In addition
to the hens there is a little warracabra, a maroodie,
Soo's game cock, and Whisky, and they all rise their

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THE JOURNEY THROUGH THE FOREST

various voices at daybreak regularly every morning.

The rainy season is upon us with a vengeance, and
the trees never cease dripping, although we usually
have brief spells of sunshine during the morning or the
afternoon. Instantly the camp is transformed into a
laundry, every bush covered with socks and shirts and
trousers hanging out to dry. Sometimes they succeed
before the warning roar of approaching rain causes
us to dash out and collect them; more often not.

It was fine all this afternoon, and the others went to
prospect a creek about an hour away. I stayed behind,
tidied my tent, and washed an immense number of
plates, mugs, knives, forks and spoons, and arranged
them in neat piles. Washing up is like ploughing the
sand. This is the second time to-day I have done it.
The amount of crockery used by the five of us at each
meal is astonishing.

Juan came back before the others, and told me,
amongst other things, about a beautiful Russian
actress who accompanied him on an expedition into the
interior of Paraguay, and hated it, and eventually
him, so much that she tried to commit suicide fourteen
times. For six months, he told me, she refused to
speak a word to him, although they necessarily saw a
good deal of each other. They even shared a hammock,
he said, but I do not believe this. If you hated any-
one so much that you remained silent for six months
rather than speak to him, I am sure you wouldn't
share his hammock. But possibly Russians are different.

Gwen and Maurice and Rachel came back as dusk
was falling, They wert very hot, and almost invisible
for mud, and instantly retired to their tents to have

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hot baths. Soon after, we heard the most heart-
rending wails, unmistakably those of Whisky, who, ass
that he is, had gone off alone into the forest. Quite
certain that such an uproar could only mean that he
had been bitten by a snake, Maurice rushed to his tent
for the bottle of snake charm, Soo hastily flung on some
trousers over the gaudy red and white striped pyjamas
that he wears from time to time, and we all flew about
trying to locate the place that the cries were coming
from. Five minutes later Whisky walked into the camp
perfectly unharmed, having done no more than lose
the trail.

Frederick is an excellent hunter. He brought in a
creature called an accouri to-day, which we are going
to have for supper. It will be a pleasant change after
the tinned foods we have been eating for so long.

According to my watch, the Six-o'clock Bee went
off a few minutes late this evening. I wonder where we
shall be when we hear it to-morrow evening?

Wednesday. Pepe's Creek

There seems to be a fate against our leaving Pepe's
Creek, and we could not start yesterday morning after
all because during the night Rachel was stricken with
an attack of malaria. Seeing a light in Gweii's tent
she went along to get the quinine. Then Maurice
woke, and very soon the camp was set in motion. I
woke to find people running about in pyjamas, and
the place ablaze with light. Poor Rachel had a soaring
temperature, and was shaking all over. Maurice was
talking in low but excited tones about the folly of

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walking in the rain without a mackintosh. Finally he
said that he would make some tea. After a long time
the fire burnt up, and the water boiled. And when the
tea was made it was discovered that he had filled the
kettle with water from the washing-up bucket^ so it
had to be done all over again,

Next morning he went off with Gibson the cook and
some Indians to Cedar Creek, which is said by them to
be twelve miles farther on, but they have a very vague
idea of distance. Rachel was pretty bad all day, but
recovered a little towards the evening, and we had a
swizzle party in her tent, and played advertisement snap.
No one even suggested Pelman patience. Then we had
more swizzles, and Juan told us astonishing stories,
which are probably untrue, about his past life; and
Gwen, who is more quickly affected by drink than
anyone I know, held forth on the supreme value and
desirability of peace.

'Golden Peace! 3 (She said this several times.) 'That
is the only true happiness! - With the mind calm and
untroubled, and a clear eye that can see things without
distortion, and can get on with making the most of
the good things it has got! Why, 5 she said, warming to
her subject, 'who wants Youth? Riotous, unhappy
youth, that cannot really appreciate or get anything
sensible done because it is too busy being agitated!'

I said that I did, and that she was getting mixed,
but she paid no attention, and continued in the same
strain until Juan, who does not like listening to
monologues unless they are his own, lifted up his hand.

'Swizzles first/ he said. 'Peace afterwards/

So we had more swizzles.

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Eventually Rachel felt faint, so we left her, and
continued the party out in the logic, but it had lost its
buoyancy, and we soon went sleepily to bed.

Rachel is much better to-day, so if the Indians turn
up with the last batch of stores from Five Stars, we
intend to leave to-morrow and join Maurice at Cedar
Creek.

Thursday. Pepe's Creek

Not an Indian appeared. It rained fiercely and
steadily all night, so the trail is probably impassable.
It is the greatest nuisance being held up like this,
especially as none of the nearer creeks show any
indications of gold.

Friday. Pepe's Creek

That wretched game cock crowed unceasingly all
night. Also I had a dreadful nightmare which kept
waking me, and each time I woke I found Whisky
under the bed. After chasing him out for the fifth or
sixth time I went and talked to Soo, who was baking
bread. It is a great ceremony, this baking of bread,
and has for some strange reason to be done at dead of
night.

Soo's conversation had the desired effect of banishing
the horrid feeling of the nightmare, and I returned to
my tent and slept till I was wakened by that infernal
cock, and by an all-pervading reek of garlic that had
been put near the fire to dry. I shut the flaps of the
tent and slept again till I was wakened by a fly that
kept settling on my face; by Whisky jumping over the

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THE JOURNEY THROUGH THE FOREST

entanglement; by the hens, the cock, and lastly by
Juan with the cup of early morning coffee.

Frederick brought back a bird called a powise
to-day, and we had it for supper. It was good, but
exceedingly tough, and my shoulder and jaws ached
for hours afterwards. A lovely fine day. The
Indians turned up in force, Rachel swears that she is
quite equal to walking twenty or thirty miles, the chop
boxes are packed, so perhaps . . ,

Sunday. Pepe's Creek.

Juan is ill has been for several days, and we are
still here. All day long he lies miserably in his
hammock, and never moves except when he opens his
mouth to have his temperature taken. Yesterday it
was alarmingly high, but I believe that with malaria
you can almost crack the thermometer and yet not
die.

After one night with the salt fish in the store tent he
decided to sleep in the new logie, and used, after we had
all gone to bed, to sling his hammock from one corner
to the other. This was all very well as long as he was
only there during the night, and had the logie to
himself, but now that he is there all the time it is quite
another matter, and the congestion is indescribable,
what with packing cases, clothes hanging up to dry,
the rest of us cooking and eating meals, and Juan in
the hammock on top of it all.

To-day being Sunday, Solomon and Soo have been
singing hymns since early morning, and their logie
sounded just like a prayer meeting. Soo played the
tunes on a comb a dreadful accomplishment of

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which he is very proud and Solomon sang. I had no
idea that "Abide with me 5 had so many verses.

It is very late indeed now. Long ago the singing was
stilled, and the lights in the tents blown out, but I could
not sleep, and have been wandering about the silent
camp.

The night is indescribably lovely so lovely that it is
almost unbearable. A young moon is shining; it makes
a silver haze among the trees, and the water is all glisten-
ing. The forest is alive with the noise of the frogs, and
away on the other side of the creek I can see through the
trees the Indian fires glowing beside their hammocks.

What a miraculous night! It is worth anything,
anything to know such supreme loveliness! You stand
entranced. The earth fades. You are uplifted-
freed borne away. Aware of everything. . , .

Strange indeed that through sight and sound should
come such revelation.

Tuesday. Cedar Creek

And that, after all, was the last night at Pepe's
Creek, for when the morning came Juan's temperature
had fallen, and although he was still very weak there
was no longer any danger. So leaving a couple of
Indians to look after him until he should be well enough
to follow us, we started off for Cedar Creek imme-
diately after lunch.

The trail was certainly muddy, and a great deal of it
was up and down hill, but it seemed the merest child's
play compared with the Five Stars' trail; possibly this
was partly because we are all in much better training
now than we were.

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On the way Gwen had an encounter with a huge
snake that was lying curled up on the trail. It struck
at her leg, but providentially she had on field boots,
and these, or perhaps the Gut deterred it. Anyway it
slipped off to the side, then turned and hissed, and
vanished into the undergrowth. A villainous looking
creature! It must have been at least eight or nine
feet long.

The other day I picked up a large scorpion, and
although I let it crawl over my hand and arm it made
no attempt to sting. Soo captured a young Bushmaster
(they are the most dangerous snakes in the forest)
about the same time, and wanted me to handle that
too, but I felt that I had been daring enough for one
day, and decided to test the Gut on something less
deadly.

We had expected the trail to be much longer than
it turned out to be, and it was with a pleasant feeling
of astonishment that we came upon Cedar Greek after
less 4han three hours on the trail.

Maurice was asleep in his tent. Kc had been kept
awake all night by poisoned bites and wounds on his
hands and arms, and the pain seems to have been very
severe. He must have caught some infection in the
creek water. One of the principal dangers of the forest
is that cuts are very liable to become sceptic. I always
carry an iodine pencil in my pocket, and in spite of
jeers apply it to the most insignificant looking scratch.

In the evening a consultation was held. Maurice and
Gwen decided to push straight on next day to the
frontier, as so much time has already been spent on the
journey. Rachel and I will remain here for the present

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in order to receive the rest of the stores from Pepe's
Creek, and to send the Indians on every morning with
loads from the dump here. It ought not to take many
days, for we have fourteen Indians.

Gwen and Maurice went off soon after seven this
morning. Heaven knows when they will arrive, for
the frontier is said to be a long way off, and nobody
knows anything about the trail. After they had gone
Rachel and I heated up the porridge and had a second
breakfast.

This camp is very unlike the last. It is on the side
of a hill, and there is a steep slope leading down to the
creek. This is an advantage, for when it rains, the
water, instead of sinking straight into the ground and
turning to mud, runs down hill and swells the creek.
The trees are larger than they were, and the under-
growth therefore sparser, and as we penetrate farther
and farther into the forest the green gloom becomes
ever more profound. There are fewer birds here, and
I have not heard the Howlers once since we came.
Only the everlasting frogs, as soon as night falls, are
noisy as ever. ... I hope poor Juan is better.

Wednesday. Cedar Creek

We are no longer alone. This morning broke fine
and clear, and after the loads had been weighed,
apportioned, and the droghers dispatched, Rachel
said that she was going to walk back to Pepe's Creek
to fetch some tobacco, and to see how Juan was getting
on. I told her that it was misguided to walk eighteen
(there and back) unnecessary miles, and that she would

164

THE JOURNEY THROUGH THE FOREST

almost certainly lose the trail and never be heard of
again, but she continued pulling on her boots, buckled
on her belt and knife, and set off in a most determined
manner.

Left to myself, I considered how a long delicious
day should be filled. Obviously the first thing to do
was to collect the forty odd tins of Lipton's tea from
beneath the place where Maurice's bed had been, and
put them in the store tent. This I did with the aid of
two charming little Indians, Sweetman and Joshua.
They are not droghing to-day because they are
supposed to be ill. Then I talked to Gibson, or, rather,
Gibson talked to me. He was full of complaints about
Soo, who he says has a detestable nature. While he
talked I mixed some flour and water into paste and
got out my album and a packet of photographs I have
been meaning to stick in for years.

There are photographs of Corsica (dozens of them),
of my family waving good-bye; of the last sight of
England, the first of South America. Photographs of
coral islands and palm-fringed beaches; of the Pitch
Lake at Trinidad; of me as I thought I should look in
the forest, and a wonderful one of Rachel and the
captain of one of the ships we sailed on, who admired
her so much that she won the ship's sweepstake every
day for a week.

I was enjoying myself very much, and thinking with
pleasure of the delightful solitary day in front of me
when all of a sudden a voice called out 'Hullo! 3 And
there was Rachel walking into the camp closely
followed by something that turned out to be Juan.

He said that he had been abandoned by the Indians,

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and felt so ill that he determined to try and struggle
over here. Rachel met him about three-quarters of
the way along the trail to Pepe's Greek. He was lying
full length in the mud, having, as he said, a rest.
When he arrived he looked as though he might die
at any moment, but instead of getting out of his
soaking clothes, he was suddenly seized with a fever
of energy, fell upon the store tent, and started to
move it from one side of the camp to the other, where
he said the ground was drier.

For an hour he and Rachel struggled and carted
and heaved like navvies. When it was done, he sat
down and made an enormous list, then jumped into
the creek to get cool, and finally collapsed on to a bed,
and wrapping his head up in a towel, lay there for
hours, looking like death.

In the late evening he recovered a little, and slung
his hammock in the store tent. It was a considerable
relief to find that he was well enough to move, because
two beds among three people is rarely an advantage.
Rachel and I both subscribed a blanket, so at any
rate he won't catch another chill.

The droghers trailed wearily into the camp soon
after sunset. They say that it is too far to go and come
back from the frontier in a day, and that they can only
droghe to a place they call Esperahza Creek. This is a
great nuisance, and we shall have to arrange about
sending someone there to guard the stores.

Gibson declares that he is ill; has fever, and a head-
ache, and various other complaints that he described
with an embarrassing lack of reserve, and in conclusion
announced that he could not possibly cook the dinjier.

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THE JOURNEY THROUGH THE FOREST

So we have decided to send him on to the frontier
to-morrow, and are relying on Karakel to do some of
the fetching and carrying about the camp. One of the
things that Gibson said he had was a stiff neck, so we
gave him the Elliman's Embrocation to rub himself
with, and when we emerged from the tents a little later
we were astonished to see him standing sorrowfully in
the middle of the camp, slowly pouring the contents
of the bottle over his head. Hastily we rescued the
remains.

Nearly all the Indians have severe colds in the head.
They lie around in their hammocks coughing and
sneezing in the most unrestrained manner, and the
camp is becoming like a hospital ward.

This is the forty-fifth day since we left Georgetown.

Thursday. Cedar Creek

The Indians 3 colds have turned to 'flu, and in spite
of hot rum, aspirin, quinine, and gargling hourly with
peroxide and permanganate of potash, I have caught
it too. My temperature was definitely above normal
this afternoon, and if I could only remember where I
put the thermometer I know that it would prove by
now to be soaring. For Juan and I have had a violent
quarrel, and his really outrageous behaviour has put
me in a greater rage than I have been in for years.

The evening began quite amicably. We played the
gramophone to any Indians who were well enough to
appreciate it (one poor man called Chimbo, and his
wife name unknown are very bad indeed), and
Juan cooked some bakes for dinner. During dinner
we discussed business in general and store-keeping in

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particular, and then, after we had finished eating, and
were drinking coffee, he suddenly took leave of his
senses and accused me of implying by a wink to Rachel
that he either had, or intended, to steal our private stores.

At first I thought he was joking, then, seeing that he
was actually serious, I told him that he was making a
ridiculous mistake, and gave him my solemn word of
honour that I had neither winked nor implied any-
thing. He refused to believe me. Properly indignant
at having my honour flouted, I said that unless he
instantly apologized I would probably never speak to
him again. He said that he was hopefully prepared to
risk it, that I had winked, had implied that he was a
thief, and nothing, nothing, NOTHING would ever
convince him to the contrary!

'I cannot make a mistake! 5 he shouted. (We were
both shouting by this time.) c Not for nothing was I the
cleverest spy in the war! I have only to look at you
and I know everything that you are thinking! If you
tell something in Chinese or Bulgarian I watch you and
I understand all! If ever I found that I was wrong in
anything I should be ill for a month! 5

Acidly I told him that he was likely to have rather a
severe illness one of these days, and that personally I
had better things to do than bandy words with some-
thing that was obviously not in its right mind, ajid
didn't Rachel agree with me? But Rachel had
vanished.

I discovered her in her tent; she was lying fully
dressed on the bed with her boots on. I told her about
Juan until she fell asleep from exhaustion. Then I left
her.

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THE JOURNEY THROUGH THE FOREST

It certainly is a nice sort of position that we are in!
Three-quarters of the Indians down with influenza
and unable to droghe, the remainder showing signs of
sickening. We still have quantities of stuff here, more
at Pepe's Creek; and Maurice and Gwen are eighteen
miles away on the frontier with very few stores, and
the rains making the trail more and more impassable.
We are all completely marooned, and everyone ill.
Juan is not only ill, but mad, Rachel's temperature
went up again to-day, mine is at boiling point; Chimbo
and his wife are not expected to live till morning, and if
any of us ever get back to civilization alive I shall be
exceedingly surprised. Thank goodness it is not
raining,

Friday. Cedar Creek

Before going to bed last night I changed the front
door of my tent to the other end, because I did not feel
inclined to be gazed at any longer by Juan, who always
slings his hammock immediately opposite. (Now that
I come to think of it, of course that is why he moved the
store tent!) I see this morning that by way of retort
he has hung a perfectly transparent Union Jack in
front of his hammock. The Ass!

Affairs in general look brighter to-day. I felt pretty
bad when I woke, and ached all over, but am better
this evening, and so are the Indians. Even Chimbo
and his wife seem to have taken on a new lease of life.
Two or three of the Indian women are now droghing,
and we have sent Karakel off into the forest to collect
as many more droghers as he can, offering him a
shilling for each one he produces. Juan, who is

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certainly full of ingenuity, has betted him a dollar
that he cannot carry two hundred pounds in one
journey up from Pepe's Creek. 'Only a very strong
man/ he said, 'could carry so great a weight! 5 So we
will see what happens.

Before the quarrel, he (Juan, not Karakel) and I
were on the friendliest of terms, and he spent hours
carving 'JOAN' in huge letters on the tree to which his
hammock is tied. So now it is a perpetual source of
irritation to him, being the first thing he sees in the
morning, and the last at night. His only way out is to
cut the tree down, and Rachel and I have a bet on as
to whether he will or will not do it.

There is a rumour that whenever the moon is full
the Indians have a feast, and drink so heavily for three
or four days that they spend the next ten being ill. As
it is getting on for being full moon, we are anxiously
doing all we can to distract their attention, and are
hoping against hope that the gramophone may prove
a rival attraction. Never having experienced so strange
and wonderful a thing before, it naturally fills them
with astonishment. Caruso singing quite a serious-
love song reduces them to fits of helpless laughter.

A letter came from Gwen to-day. She sent it, to-
gether with a portion of smoked accouri, to Esperanza
by Soo, who is guarding the stores there, and an
Indian called Playting brought it on here.

She writes that Gibson is still ill, that Frederick has
two poisoned feet, and Maurice poisoned wounds all
over him, but that all are gradually recovering. The
trail to the frontier is worse, she says, and more
exhausting than can possibly be described.

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THE JOURNEY THROUGH THE FOREST

We had the accouri for dinner, and Rachel made
some cakes with the remains of the porridge; they were
fairly good.

Five hundred pig are said by one of the men to have
been seen near the camp to-day.

Saturday. Cedar Creek

The man who saw the pig is on the sick list to-day.
So is Rachel, with a badly poisoned leg; so is practically
everybody; so am I. This epidemic is running right
through the camp like wildfire.

Juan claims to know all about Rachel's leg, which he
says is quite common in the bush, and usually results
in amputation, if not death, unless it is instantly
bandaged with gunpowder. She has decided to wait
until to-morrow before submitting to this unpleasant
alternative.

The worst of Juan is that one never knows whether
he is stating a sober fact or having a flight of fancy.
He had one to-day, a most peculiar one, which took
the form of his spending at least three hours digging a
very deep pit.

'Are you looking for gold indications?' I asked
politely. (We are very polite to each other since the
night before last.)

But it wasn't gold he was after. It was exercise.

'It must be satisfactory to see the pit getting deeper
and deeper.'

*It is not the pit I like, it is to make a huge mound of
earth/ he said. The strange creature! I left him at it.

Rachel's voice calling my name woke me last night.

'Yes, what is the matter?'

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C I have just found your umbrella in my bed. 5

I was prepared to believe it, but astonished that she
had not noticed it before, as it is several yards long,
and bulky in proportion. A few minutes later she
announced that it had vanished.

c lt had a yellow handle/ she murmured sleepily,
from which I gathered that she was having what I
hope was a nice dream.

At two I woke again with a start to hear a heavy
tread outside my tent. It was stealthy and deliberate,
and there was a strange feeling of danger in the air.
After considering the matter for some time I burrowed
about under the pillow, grasped the revolver, and
crept out into the night. I flashed the light all round,
but could see nothing. Whatever it had been must
have slunk off into the bushes. I woke several times
with this unpleasant feeling of something very secret
and dangerous about, but neither saw nor heard
anything. This morning I told the others about it,
and the Indians say that it must have been a tiger
prowling round. Circumstantial evidence that all
unknown to me the dog Whisky was sleeping under
my bed.

Nothing very interesting happened to-day. We
tried to make an omelette of Bird's custard powder,
but it was not much of a success. Juan went on
enlarging his mound of earth.

172

CHAPTER VII

THE FRONTIER

The Frontier. Two days later

THE long journey is over; our destination is reached.
For to-day, just fifty days since we sailed away from
Georgetown, we walked into this camp on the
Venezuelan frontier.

Somehow I imagined that the fact of its being the
frontier would make it different from other parts of
the forest. There would be a cleared space, I thought,
something like Arakaka, only larger; a high bare hill on
the crest of which our shop would stand overlooking
Venezuela, and far away in the distance I rather
think I expected to see the domes and spires of
Caracas.

But the frontier is not in the least like that. It is
exactly like any other part of the forest except that it
seems darker. The trees are immense, some of them
gnarled, with great buttresses, and hung with bush
rope as thick as a man; others tall and slender.
There is a hill, it is true, which for obvious reasons we
call the Venezuelan Hill, but it is neither high nor
bare; and as for the shop, which Juan definitely gave
us to understand was already built, it is merely another
of his flights. I don't think anyone has ever been here
before.

The camp itself is beautiful; dark and flat and
spacious, shadowed by imminent hills. There is no

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tangle of undergrowth, for Maurice and Gwen, pre-
pared for a long stay, halve had it all cleared away, and
the great trees stand about the camp solitary and
untrammelled; a stately place.

The creek runs round two sides of it, and from the
farther bank rises a most precipitous hill. Beyond it
if you flew for a very long way as the crow flies
lies Brazil. I shall climb the hill to-morrow. There is
light between the trees at the top, and it looks inter-
esting. No knowing what I may find there!

And now back over the trail to Cedar Greek, and
the reasons that led us to leave it so much sooner than
we intended.

Three hungry Venezuelans passing through the
camp consented to droghe. Three new Indians
appeared with Karakel from Five Stars, and seven
invalids recovered. So that altogether the droghers
mustered fifteen instead of two, and when they had
departed with their loads, and we saw that the store
tent was almost empty, Rachel and I decided to go too,
while the going was good.

All this happened yesterday. This morning at six
I woke with a start to find my tent being taken down
over my head.

'What the blazes do you think you are doing?' I
shouted angrily at what I knew must be Juan, for
Rachel, with all her faults, would never do a thing
like that.

Juan it was, and the three Venezuelans.

'You said you wanted to start at seven, and it is
already late/ he said sulkily, as another guy rope was
loosened, and a side of the tent fell in on to my head.

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THE FRONTIER

Tlease go away. You can't have the tent until I
have finished dressing.'

He went. I was very annoyed at being wakened so
early, and both Rachel and I felt ill. Her leg, with
which Juan had had his way, and treated with gun-
powder, was very sore and painful. I had a sore throat,
a heavy cold, and felt weak as the result of 'flu. So
breakfast was not a hilarious meal, especially as Juan
was peevish, and looked far from his best. He has
never been the same since an Indian cut his hair with
a bush knife.

Before starting, Rachel and I swallowed a little rum,
and cantered off into the forest at a great rate, but
after a time the effects wore off. Pauses had to be
made every now and then in order that Rachel might
rewind the bandage, which kept slipping round her
ankle, and it was well before midday before we
reached Esperanza.

We found Soo there. He was dressed in the Pyjamas,
and was lying in his hammock playing with the
maroodie. It is the dearest little bird. He picked it up
on the trail, and carried it to the frontier in his cap,
since when it has adopted him as its mother. The other
maroodie that we had at Pepe's Greek unfortunately

died.

'Some tea, please Soo, and is there any milk? 5
'Milk! What an idea! How could he, Soo, have
anything to do with milk? Did I not know that if he
were to touch so much as a drop of it he would instantly
and for ever lose all power over snakes!' and he
started off on what promised to be an endless disserta-
tion on snakes.

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'We are tired, Soo, hungry and thirsty, and totally
uninterested in the effect milk has on you or on snakes.
So please concentrate your attention on the kettle and
see that it boils as quicky as possible/

I hunted among the stores that he was guarding,
and found a tin of Klim (powdered milk) and drank,
for by now the tea was made, seven mugs of it straight
off. Half an hour later, fortified by lunch and the rest,
we started off along the trail once more, and reached
the frontier in the late afternoon.

Camp on the Venezuelan Frontier

We have been here a week. One hundred and
seventy-two hours waking and sleeping, noting, and
getting accustomed; we have been here for ever.

Each morning I wake to see the rough trunk of the
tree to which my tent is tied, and stretch, and yawn,
and look at my watch, and call to Gibson for water.
He trots in with a bucket.

'Good morning, Miss Arbut* 5

'Good morning, Gibson. 5

'Good morning. Miss Arbut. 5

And out he goes again, back to his kitchen, as he
calls it, a palm-thatched logie next to ours.

I pull out a shirt and a pair of khaki trousers from
under the pillow, and in due course am seated in the
logie before a plate of porridge.

The others are already assembled. We bid one
another good morning, and settle down to the business
on hand.

"Sugar, please Rachel. 5

*Oh! 5 says Maurice, as though he had not seen me do

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THE FRONTIER

it a thousand times before, c Do you take sugar with
your porridge? I (in a tone of pride) always take salt.*

C I know. Butter, please Rachel, and milk, and the
tin of biscuits, and don't' as she forgets it Torget
the tin of biscuits.'

Someone calls our attention to a frog or a lizard, or a
peculiar insect; someone else asks whether we heard
the terrific rain during the night; and so the conversa-
tion wanders lightly on in unimportant ways until
breakfast is over. We make our beds, and pull on our
boots, and set off, followed by Solomon and Soo, with
picks, shovels, and batelles, to prospect a promising-
looking creek some two miles from the camp.

We work there till midday, then leaving Maurice to
eat his sandwiches and drink his cold tea beside the
pit, Rachel and I wend our way back to the camp,
where the lunch is hot, and much more adequate^

At lunch to-day the conversation turned on the
vexed question of female emancipation. Gwen was
very wrong-headed and reactionary, and Rachel,
because she wanted to be in opposition to me, was
wrong-headed too. I said what I thought at great
length, and with, I Considered, some force, but all to
very little purpose, except to give me a sore throat.

'Well,' said Gwen, as I hastily swallowed some tea,
'what do you think about it, Gibson? Is man superior
to woman?'

Gibson said that he undoubtedly was, and gave
several texts showing that God first created man. Gwen
suggested that perhaps He was not satisfied with the
result, and reserved His masterpiece. But Gibson
brushed this aside.

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'Female/ he announced, c is the best piece of furniture
in a gentleman's house/

That was that. Amid rounds of applause the
luncheon broke up. Gwen returned to her tent to
continue the play she is writing, Rachel and I went
back to the pit.

We found Soo at the water's edge washing a batelle
full of earth. It looked the easiest thing in the world.
We seized a couple of batelles, piled them high with
stones and clay and gravel from the pit, and staggered
down (for a loaded batelle is a heavy thing) to the
creek.

The first thing to be done when you are washing for
gold is to place yourself and your batelle in the creek.
This we did with comparative ease. Then you wash
the stones perfectly clean before throwing them away,
taking care to do it over the batelle so that any specks
of gold in the earth clinging to them are not lost.

The difficulty begins when you try to twist the
batelle round in the proper manner so that the water
runs in at one side, washes thoroughly through the
gravel, and washes it gradually out on the other side.
When there is nothing left in the batelle but a little
black sand, any gold that there is there wSl be seen
glistening in it. At least so I gather from watching
Soo.

What actually happen if you are a novice is
either that the gravel swirls round and round in the
approved manner, but never becomes less, or else the
water comes in with a rush, and tips the batelle out of
your hands; I haven't found any gold yet.

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THE FRONTIER

Frederick the Hunter's feet are still poisoned, so that
instead of going out to hunt he carpenters instead, and
has made a very fine babricot table, which is the
greatest comfort and convenience. We eat at it, and
read and write at it, and everything stands on it,
including the gramophone and records. He is going
to make us another table. He is also making a chair
for Rachel, because hers, which was cheap and weak,
broke, and for several days she has had to sit on a
packing case.

Poor Rachel has had rather a bad time lately. The
first thing she did when she arrived was to get a high
temperature. Then she had a bout of fever which sent
it up still higher, and a dreadful earache. Finally her
chair broke. But I know no one who can pick them-
selves up after 'such blows of fortune more quickly than
Rachel, and as soon as she was strong enough to set
one foot before the other, off she went to the pit, and
has spent the greater part of every succeeding day
there, getting herself into an inconceivably messy
condition looking for gold.

It has rained almost without intermission since we
came here, and the camp, indeed the whole forest, is
yards deep in mud. Gibson complains bitterly about
it, and trails unhappily about the camp in a very long
waterproof belonging to me which he has appropriated,
Gwen's goloshes tied on with bush rope, and my
Corsican umbrella held up over his head. He says that
it is beyond his understanding that a 'delicate fine lady*
such as myself should leave a comfortable house, and
come and live in with unutterable contempt
c dis Bush 5 . I am a delicate fine lady only when he is in

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a good temper with me. Yesterday he said that nobody
would take me for a girl.

'What else would they take me for, Gibson? 3

'Dey would take you for a smart young fellow.'

c . . . and Miss Rachel, is she a smart young fellow? 3

c Yes, Miss Rachel is a smart young fellow too . . /

'How about the Mistress? 3

This made him laugh very much. c Oh! no! De
Mistress is not a young fellow atari. De Mistress is
Powerful !'

'In what way is she powerful?'

But I never heard, because at that moment she
called out to him to stop talking, and to get on with
the cooking.

There are the quaintest little frogs in this part of the
forest. Some are black with bright geometrical orange
or yellow markings, others dark green or dark blue
and jade, and when they squat motionless on the
ground and stare at you with glassy unblinking eyes,
or hop up and down the tree trunks, they look for all
the world like funny little old men.

The frogs in the forest must be as the sands of the
sea, and their variety endless. There are large frogs,
small frogs, frogs of every colour, voice, and descrip-
tion. As soon as darkness falls their croaking is by far
the most dominant sound. Somehow it makes you so
strongly aware of the vastness, the solitude, and the
existence of strange hidden things. It is only familiarity
with the forest that brings real recognition of it. At first
you do not realize that it is other than an immense and
apparently endless wood. Only after a long time, when
you have forgotten any other life than life in the forest

1 80

THE FRONTIER

and look forward to nothing but more forest, do you
begin to be aware of its personality, its inhuman
strangeness, its significance, and its unassailable
strength.

Years hence, when I have forgotten many things
because of the distance, surely I shall remember the
frogs, and remembering, be swept back on the instant
into the forest, into this present life. I shall smell the
damp earth, see the great trunks of the trees, and know
once more the vastness, and the wonderful living
silence,

Juan sent up a note by an Indian from Cedar Creek
to say that he has urgent business in Venezuela to do
with his alligators, but will come up here first with the
last batch of stores. This has given rise to a good deal of
conversation, and the upshot of it is that we have
decided or rather the others decided, and as usual I
agreed with them, that he has no business to go running
off to his alligators until the shop is set on its feet, and
that we are very much annoyed with him.

We are debating whether we will not declare our
contract with him null and void, on the grounds that
we were induced into it on false pretences, a prominent
one being that he clearly gave us to understand that
he had brought up two lots of stores before, and built
a shop on the frontier, and sold the stores at substantial
profit, when the truth of the matter is that there has
never been a shop here before in the history of man.

As far as we can gather of what actually happened,
it is this. At some past date he landed on the shores of
Venezuela and travelled into the Interior, and then,

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probably because he had made Venezuela too hot to
hold him, decided to make his way through the forest
to British Guiana.

He set off with a supply of stores and a couple of
horses. These were not intended to carry either him or
the stores, but were to be sold at Georgetown, if he
ever got there, at great profit. Eventually, after three
months' journey he reached Arakaka, and sold the
remainder of the stores to Ghee a Fat. The greater
part of the three months had been spent hunting about
the bush for a certain kind of palm, which is the only
thing in it that a horse can eat. But in spite of the palm
one of the horses died en route, and the other one died
as soon as it reached Arakaka and had a vision of
green grass.

Possibly it was this food question that gave Juan the
idea of setting up a Bush store on the frontier. The
idea is certainly a good one if (a) there is anyone within
an immeasurable radius who is likely to buy at it, and
(b) if the surrounding country is rich enough in gold to
warrant, when we begin to find it, a gold rush. Time
alone will show. But it is really rather Jesuitical of
Juan to have said, and he said it too with endless lists
and statistics, that he had already brought up large
quantities of stores, successfully sold them, and had
built a shop in this particularly virgin bit of forest.

Late last rught I lay awake in my tent. Finally I
reached under the pillow for the box of matches. It
had been drying in front of the fire during the evening,
so the matches struck without any difficulty. I lit the
little improvised lamp made of a tobacco tin and a

182

THE FRONTIER

piece of wick dipped in kerosene, and went over to the
logie to look for something to eat.

I found Maurice doing the same. We sat there for
some time talking in undertones, and occasionally
taking biscuits from the tin with extreme care in
case Gwen should hear the tell-tale crackle of the tin
foil

He is anxious that in the event of the shop proving
unsuccessful, we should trek across part of Venezuela
and down to the River Wenamu. Having discussed
the pros of this scheme for a little while, we returned to
our beds, and in the privacy of my tent I pictured the
expedition uprooted once more, and dragging its
weary, footsore, aching and interminable way through
leagues and leagues of mud-soaked forest. The vision
was so lowering that I sank away into a dreamless
sleep.

This morning the prospect is less alarming and more
distant, for to-day we had our first customer. He came
over the Venezuelan hill, a ragged, villainous-looking
fellow of very mixed race. He produced a grubby bit
of rag from his pocket, untied it with care, and took
from it a small amount of gold. We weighed it and
took it, and gave him the equivalent in flour and rice,
which was what he wanted. Then we saluted one
another in Spanish, and off he went.

I think that it must be spring in the forest now, for
the other day when I was out prospecting for straight
sticks with which to floor my tent I came upon the
loveliest little flowers. They were pale mauve and
star-shaped, with five petals and a delicious sweet

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scent. I had seen no flowers in the forest before
except for the blossoms that fell from the tops of the
trees on to the water, and they were rich and
gorgeously coloured, and in keeping with the exotic
tropical vegetation. So it was strange and very
exciting to find these exquisite little flowers.

There were some white ones too, growing round a
huge rotting tree trunk. They were so lovely, like
miniature meadow-sweet, and seemed very incongruous
in the midst of the teeming rampant life of the jungle.

I brought the flowers back and gave them to Gwen,
and they are before me in an egg cup (alas, it is the
only use we have for egg cups) adorning the logie table.

Later

Another week has passed, and it is more than ever
impossible to realize that we have not been here all our
lives. Can there ever have been a time when I did not
know by heart every stick and stone about the camp?
Know where lay the worst and deepest patches of mud,
the shape and size and position of every tree? There is
the tree at the foot of my tent with fine flexible bush
rope wound round the trunk and hanging from the
boughs. There seems to be an unending supply. I
have already pulled off yards of it to use for fastening
things, and still more remains.

Then there is the tall straight tree near Rachel's
tent, that from a short distance looks flat and unreal,
like a painted tree upon a stage. On Sundays we pin
pieces of paper to it, and practice shooting. We shot
with such success last Sunday that the target was soon
riddled with holes. After a time we paused in order to

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THE FRONTIER

assist Gwen in a feverish search for a valuable list of
stores, and we were all equally surprised when it was
discovered that our target was or had been her
list.

The greatest tree in the camp is the one near the
logic. It has a huge trunk that divides about twenty
feet from the ground, and the strangest thing about it
is that one of the divisions then takes a twist and grows
right through the other. We call it the Gungersucker
Tree, because numbers of these curious poisonous
lizards appear to live in it. Some are large, some small,
and all have flat, wicked-looking heads rather like
those of snakes. Every now and then we catch sight of
one running up the trunk, or peeping at us round a
corner with its cold unfriendly eye, or clinging so
immovably to the tree that it seems to be part of it.

Apart from lizards, frogs, ants, and an occasional
snake, one sees very few creatures in the forest, which
seems strange, considering their great number and
variety. As a matter of fact it is difficult to see anything
at all in the forest but leaves and trees. At ten yards*
distance even an Indian with his bright red loin cloth
melts away into the surrounding foliage.

Sometimes when I am out alone I sit motionless
for a long time by a creek, hoping half-heartedly to
see a tiger come down to the water's edge to drink, or
to catch sight of an alligator lying asleep on the bank.
But so far I have seen nothing but a couple of
monkeys high up in a tree, and that most peculiar of all
creatures, a sloth.

One wonders about sloths. They seem so very
languid and indifferent. Do they realize, as they bask,

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or court, or consume a particularly luscious morsel of
whatever it is that they do consume, that they are
having about twenty times as much fun as anyone
else?

The other night we heard an alligator barking in the
creek that runs round the camp, but a subsequent
search with a flash lamp failed to show it up.

I was writing a letter at the time, I remember, which
will probably never get posted, to someone far away
in the south of Ireland, and so completely was I
transported, that the quiet barking of the alligator
brought me back to the present with a start of surprise.
It was very strange to look up and see the tree trunks
looming near, the guttering candle before me slightly
illuminating the darkness, and to realize that I was
sitting under a tarpaulin in the heart of an equatorial
forest.

Gibson is becoming more and more conversational.
He hovers about the logic when we are having meals
so that he can dart into the conversation at the first
opportunity. In common with others of his race he
loves using long and imposing words, and the result
is sometimes astonishing. To-day, during lunch, he
told us a story by way of illustrating the character of
the 'Spagnols*, as he calls anyone who cannot speak
English.

Two men were working together in a pit. One spat,
accidentally, on to the foot of the other one, who
retaliated by instantly shooting him dead. 'Dat', said
Gibson contemptuously, 'was a crude and insignificant
ting to do/

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When there is no one else within range he talks to
himself, and each morning when he comes over from
his logie to the kitchen, he bids everything good
morning. One day I cama into the empty camp and
heard him having an animated conversation all by
himself. I asked who he was talking to.

"I am talking to my saucepan, my dear lady/

'What are you telling it?'

*I am complaining dat de fire will not burn, and my
lady wanting tea, 3 etc. etc.

In course of time the conversation drifted on to the
subject of the end of the world. Gibson assured me
confidently that at any rate it would not come for a
year or two as God would never spring such a surprise
on us up here in the Bush; but, he went on, if He did so
far forget what was suitable . . .

'What would you do, Gibson? 5

*I would climb a tree, my dear lady. And now/ he
concluded rising slowly to his feet, *I am going to take
a little recreation. If de Mistress wants me, Pm out?

And suiting the action to the word, he marched off
to his logie, and lay flat on his back, with his pipe
sticking straight up out of his mouth.

Juan has come and gone. We were prepared to be
very cold to him, and determined to stand no nonsense,
but as usual he was so very winning, and apparently
amenable to reason, that the iron melted in our souls.
He assures us that he won't go off to the Colombian
borders after his alligators, and that he will be back
from Georgetown in a month's time with the last
consignment of stores from Arakaka, and any mail

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that may be lying in the bank at Georgetown for us.
And he brought with him from Cedar Creek a valuable
pair of pyjamas that I seem to have left behind.

I am sorry he has gone. Life is not so amusing
without him. It is true that Gibson makes it amusing
too, but then Juan has points and possibilities that
Gibson has not. Besides, it is such a comfort to have
someone there who, even if he does not go so far as to
take my part, can at least be relied upon to hold my
hand when Gwen goes for me for going for Rachel.

The creek we were prospecting last week has been
abandoned, and we are trying another one over the
hill, which we hope will prove more successful than the
last. We erected a Tom' there after a good deal of
trouble and delay caused by some misguided person
having used as firewood the precious planks that we
had carted up all the way from Georgetown to make it
with. But at last it was set up, and hopes ran high. All
day long we worked in turns, carting, hoeing, and
washing earth through the Tom, and in the evening,
when the result was put on the go!4 scales, it was found
to weigh exactly a hundredth part of a pennyweight.

The gloom at dinner that night was unbounded, and
was heightened by the discovery that Juan had given
as rations to the Indians several tins of our own, private,
best sardines that we had brought out from England.

That was one of Juan's most irritating peculiarities,
a complete lack of the sense of possession. The way he
made free with bath towels, hair brushes, and tents not
bis own was really astonishing. But all this I bore with
fortitude, and finally with resignation, and did not

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feel in any way bitterly towards him until his behaviour
with the sardines came to light. That was too much.
He might just as well have taken the tinned salmon,
and no one would have minded because it is not very
nice. Or a few of the unending tins of that disgusting
Julienne (tinned vegetables), and we would positively
have thanked him. But no, he had to take the one
thing that we all love.

After dinner was cleared away I suggested a nice
game of advertisement snap, thinking that it might
lighten the atmosphere, but the suggestion was
received with contumely. So we talked instead; first
about Juan's monstrous behaviour, then about the
mining regulations, and finally about modern art, and
on this subject Maurice holds the strongest views.
He was busy I was going to say airing them, but
airing is not descriptive of what he was doing, stating
is better, when there was a crack and a crash, and his
chair collapsed in all directions to the ground; and
that ended the discussion on modern art.

Later

One of Gwen's hens, the fair one, has LAID AN EGG!
Solomon found it over in the clearing near his logie.
We have left it there so that the hen may be encour-
aged to continue, and I started a sonnet, the last line
of which was to be c The fair and eldest hen has laid
an egg\ But as a sonnet has to end with a couplet, and
as the only words that rhyme with egg are leg, beg, or
meg, I am frustrated, and the paper remains virgin
except for the heading: 'The fair hen lays an egg 5 .

Gwen, on the other hand, is in a literary way what

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rabbits are eugenically. She produces act after act,
play after play. How she does it is an amazement to
me. It is so extraordinarily difficult to write up here
in the forest. Life, the rampant, uncontrollable life
of the jungle is too close, too insistent to allow of
retirement into the quiet detached state that for me
at least is so necessary for any creative work. It isn't
that I haven't tried. I have. And the sum total of
many sleepless nights spent gnawing the end of a
pencil is this:

In gloom and damp we made our camp,
With only one indifferent lamp.
The other one got dropped, and cracked
Because of grace that Rachel lacked.

Incidentally, the story of the lamp is not entirely
true. Rachel did break the lamp, and the lamp was
the one I used, but three more remain, and one of the
three must instantly be taken to pieces and cleaned
because it is becoming dark in the forest, and unless
something drastic is done to the lamp we shall have no
light.^

It is done! Now let the daylight fade, the night
come on apace. We are prepared.

All to-day I worked hard out in the forest while
the others were washing gravel down at the new
workings. I cut a great many sticks with which to
continue flooring my tent. This took many hours, as
perfectly straight sticks and branches are rare and
difficult to find. Then I dug a trench round my tent,
and paved it with stones from the creek bed, and made
a channel down from the tent to the creek. During

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these operations a large parrot snake slid out from
the undergrowth near my foot. It was a greenish
colour and about five feet long.

We called that irritating Soo. He dawdled over
from the clearing, and when he eventually reached the
snake and began charming it, it paid no attention
whatsoever, but glided away and disappeared into a hole
exceedingly near my tent. When we told Soo to call it out
he said that it had gone to sleep and could not be
disturbed. My faith in Soo's powers would have been
rudely shaken if I had not seen him do remarkable
things with snakes on other occasions. Gwen tells me
that he says he cannot call snakes on a Friday, and it is
quite true that when a Hymarali appeared in the pit
this morning Soo did not attempt to move, but after
asking the day of the week he paid no more attention
to it. All very strange!

During the afternoon a black man arrived in the
camp. He had come up all the way from Arakafca to
ask for work, but unfortunately we have neither work
for him to do, nor money to pay him with if we had. So
the poor man will have to go all the way back again.

He gave us the cheering news that the people of
Arakaka are only waiting until we set up our shop to
come and work the surrounding creeks. Heaven send
that it is true, because if it isn't I shall be at my wits 3
end how to make money. Of course there is another
alternative. I could remain up here in the forest!
After all, what is success? Is it so greatly to be admired
when those who achieve it so often do so owing to the
least admirable qualities? Ruthlessness, greed, narrow-
ness, vanity, lust for power one if not all these

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deplorable characteristics can usually be found,
together with a lack of sensitiveness, and of the
intelligence to perceive that wisdom is as likely to be
found in the ability to stand, occasionally, and stare,
as in the blind pursuit of a goal; and that the means are
vastly more important than the end.

So why should I not remain up in the forest? Here
money is superfluous, and ambition nothing but a
foolish dream. Here life could be lived plainly and
simply, as God, no doubt, intended. An Indian field
would, if it yielded nothing else, yield yams. An egg
a day, and possibly more, would surely be produced
by a dozen chickens, and if I had them properly
assorted, say six of one sex and half a dozen of the
other, there is no end to what might happen in the
way of more eggs, more chickens, more eggs, and so on,
ad nauseam.

I would build myself a pleasant logie, and make my
camp gay with leaves and orchids. In short I would
seek peace and ensue it. And when I became too old
to work in the creeks for gold or cut any more wood,
I suppose that I would lay me down upon the good
earth, and without the aid of doctors, quietly, con-
tentedly, die.

It sounds a happy life, and yet and yet what
is it, I wonder, that draws one towards that which is
most difficult, potentially most wounding? . . . How-
ever, there is no need at present to think of all that.
Civilization, with its attendant worries, bills, telephone
calls, dresses, making plans, arranging one's life, is
still, thank goodness, very far away. All we are con-
cerned with at the moment is the immediate future,

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and the immediate future holds only two questions
of paramount importance whether there will be
any gold in the new creek, and what we are going to
have for dinner. I am dreadfully afraid that it will
be venison. We had it for lunch yesterday, for dinner
last night, for lunch to-day, and we are almost certain
to have it in some form to-morrow. Sometimes I wish
that Frederick were not quite such an efficient hunter.

Later

This is an auspicious occasion. To-day I found my
first gold! We were working by the side of the creek
just beyond Frederick's logic. I had been washing a
batelle for nearly an hour, very back-breaking work,
and almost at the very end, when I had practically
given up hope, there among the gravel shone a very
good-sized piece of coarse gold. It was an exciting
moment! By this time it was five o'clock in the after-
noon, and as it was raining hard, and my back ached
too much to start another batelle, I came back to the
camp, had a cup of tea, and played the gramophone
to Frederick's wife and Loelia, a little Indian girl
about ten years old, although she is so small that she
looks younger. They were appreciative in grunts.
Gibson came and listened too.

*Dey Bucks/ he said, indicating Frederick's wife
and Loelia contemptuously with his thumb, 'never
see a gramophone before/

Loelia is a most remarkable child. When we first
came here, and a dump of stores remained at Esper-
anza, she used to go off, entirely of her own accord
with a little warrashi on her back, and droghe the

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stores over to the camp. Esperenza is well over three
miles away, and she sometimes did the journey three
times a day, roughly twenty miles.

An enormous black man called Peter Wilson, who
has been with us since Five Stars, droghed too, and
the two of them looked very odd coming into the camp
together with their loads, Wilson huge and black and
fierce-looking, Loelia so very small that she could
barely be seen at all. I think that she must be some
relation of Frederick, because she lives in his logie.
All Frederick's relations seem to live in his logie, and
there are swarms of them.

After I had played three or four records a dreadful
thing happened. The gramophone suddenly gurgled,
and died down. Feverishly I wound it up, but all to
no purpose. Nothing would keep it in the right key.
It would start off with a flourish, and then fade
miserably away. What we shall do without it I
cannot imagine. It gives so much pleasure, and saves
so much strife. Unfortunately we have no tools small
enough to deal with it. Even my nail file has tempor-
arily vanished. So after watching me tinkering with
the now silent gramophone for some time Frederick's
wife and Loelia trailed off, and I went away up the
hill to look for a yari-yari tree. This tree has a great
number of out-jutting branches, and when they are
cut short the tree serves admirably as a hat stand,
which is a thing that I badly need.

I cut two young trees, and staggered down the hill
with some difficulty, because it is very steep, and the
lower part is covered with extremely slippery red mud.
Gibson viewed my arrival with strong disapproval.

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c Who told you to go out in de rain, my lady? 5 he
asked severely.

'Well, never mind that. I want some hot water for
my bath and I want if as he dawdled irritatingly
round the table 'at once.'

'Dere ain't no more hot water. De Major take it all
for his bath and his tea, 5

'Are you sure there isn't any, Gibson? I am wet
through, and I absolutely must have a hot bath before
dinner. 5

He looked in the cauldron.

'Dere's half a pint. 5

'Well, bring that, 5 And when he brought it, it
turned out to be the cauldron full.

The fair hen has laid another egg, so we had
swizzles before dinner as the egg was not sufficient to
make an omelette. At the conclusion of dinner we had
some Sowarri nuts, found by Soo, which were quite
delicious. In taste they were a little like Brazil nuts,
but much fresher and greatly superior. They are
considerably larger, and the shell is so hard that it
has to be cracked with an axe.

Everyone was very cheerful to-night as the result
of satisfactory findings in the creek, and I rashly con-
sented to play Pelman patience. As might have been
expected, I came in a magnificent last without a
single pair. Rachel was as efficient as she always is,
so I came to bed, and am absolutely determined never
to touch the odious game again as long as I live . . .
I have just been looking under the flap of the tent, and
they are still playing. It is such an unsociable game

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too; witticisms pass unheeded, and if I, who originally
introduced the game, address so much as a remark to
Gwen, she bites my head off for distracting her.

Gibson is asleep in his logie has been since sun-
down. Beside him glimmers the little lamp that every
black man in the bush burns at night to keep off
vampire bats, and duppies and bush devils. The
Indians keep their fires burning.

At one o'clock he will wake, and smoke a pipe, and
go to sleep again when the pipe is finished. I know
this because I rarely go to bed before one. It is then
that I write my diary, or sit and meditate over a cup
of tea. The camp is so fascinating at night when
everyone is in bed and asleep, and only I am awake
with the forest. Some nights the frogs are positively
tumultuous. From all sides comes the croaking, and
then this is a strange thing all of a sudden every
sound will cease, there will be an unbroken silence for
a few seconds, then as though the message 'All is well'
had gone round, the croaking starts up again even
louder than before.

Later

The event of to-day was that the gramophone,
after more than a week's silence, suddenly started to
play. Great were the rejoicings. We played all the
records through one after the other. Really, it is the
most capricious and unaccountable machine, silent
one day, working perfectly the next. And then its
likes and dislikes! If I have tried it once during the
past week I have tried it fifty times, and without the
smallest result, whereas Rachel has only to wind it up,

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put on a record, and it starts at once. Odd! . . .
Perhaps it is affected by the weather, which is cer-
tainly quite bad enough to affect anything. The
dampness is all-pervading. It mildews your clothes,
and unsticks everything except envelopes, which it
sticks up, and then, if you want to use one, you have
to spend half an hour steaming it open over the spout
of the kettle, while clouds of smoke from the fire pour
into your eyes. The difficulties of letter writing in the
forest are stupendous.

The diary has lain neglected and unwritten for
quite a week. In the first place, someone, with malice
aforethought (because I sing when I write) removed
the ink. Next day a wave of enthusiasm for gold
caused me to sit for five hours in the creek looking for
it (gold). It rained the whole time, so that I was
soaked all over, from the waist downwards by the
creek, and upwards by the rain, and so cold and stiff
that I could only straighten myself with difficulty
after working each batelle.

When the darkness began to fall I gathered up my
belongings, counted my few pieces of gold with pride,
hid the batelle under a tree, and carne home.

I had a hot bath, and drank the last delicious
drops from my brandy flask, but all in vain. Next
morning I awoke feeling very ill indeed, and spent the
following five days in bed with an internal chill,
realizing how far, far better it would be to be comfort-
ably dead. And that is why the diary has remained
unwritten for so long.

In the meantime many things have happened.
They are always happening. That is what is so

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strange about this supposedly simple life in the wilds.
It may be a creature seen out in the forest, a successful
day at the workings, the finding of a shower of beau-
tiful silvery leaves (which Gibson says c is like a string of
fishes 3 ); each day that passes has something special
and eventful about it. One feels in closer touch with
life here than one does, except on rare occasions, in
civilization. Why this should be I do not know, unless
it is that an instinct of self-preservation in a clamour-
ous crowd makes one retire to a little distance, whereas
here there is room, and infinite quietness.

The two principal events of the week have been
the building of the shop over in the clearing by Wilson
and a couple of Indians, and the new trail that
Maurice and Rachel are making to the nearest point
of the river a matter of ten miles or so. This will
enable us to bring the boat with stores within easy
distance of the camp, and will save the great expense
and delay of having to employ droghers to bring
everything from Five Stars. En route we will prospect
any creeks that we pass, and as this part of the forest
has never been tracked there is every chance of our
striking it rich. Maurice and Rachel have been
working there for three days now. It must be exceed-
ingly arduous. They cut by compass, and both
swamps and precipitous hills have to be negotiated.
As soon as I am well enough I shall join them, but
until to-day I have not had the strength of a fly, and
could barely walk as far as the clearing. Any illness,
however trivial, certainly pulls you down far more
quickly and thoroughly up^Jiere than in colder
climates, and in this, no dotmt, lies the danger of

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chronic malaria. Gradually your powers of resist-
ance become less and less, and finally you die. Depress-
ing thought.

Frederick has made a splendid new addition to the
logic, of most elaborate leaf work. It is an enormous
improvement, and I no longer have to eat with the
rain almost dripping down the back of my neck.
He has also made another table, on which the gramo-
phone and records stand. We have hung several
orchids from the roof, unusual leaves, collected by me,
stand about in jam jars, and altogether the logie is a
thing of beauty. Rachel's contribution to the camp
is a fern garden at the foot of the Gungersucker tree,
Gwen's is a plot of wabie beans and some radishes.
Maurice has a parrot. Thank heaven the day of
snakes in bottles seems to have passed. And that
reminds me that this morning we had an encounter
with one.

It was before lunch. Gwen was in her tent. I was
in mine reading Proust when the silence was suddenly
shattered by the voice of Gibson calling out urgently,
'Miss Arbut! Miss Arbut! 5 I ran out of the tent, and
there, emerging from beneath the dining table in the
logie, was a large black and yellow Jackman snake,
six or seven feet long. I called Gwen, who touched
its tail with a line stick, whereupon it turned, reared
up its head, put out its tongue and hissed. A most
pugnacious and malicious-looking creature. When
Gibson saw Gwen do this he stepped forward and
said, "Mistress, dat is not atari de proper procedure. 5
With which he advanced towards the snake with a
large stick, waving it violently in the air. However

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we stopped him, and Gwen went to get her revolver.
Hearing this, the snake slithered off into the under-
growth between the camp and the clearing, and was
seen no more.

Rachel came back to lunch to-day. She really came
to fetch another batelle, but as it was already past
twelve she decided to remain for lunch in the camp.
During the meal we had an argument on the subject
of tolerance. It went on for a long time, and was most
interesting and enjoyable until Gwen and Rachel
became personal, and accused me, who was uphold-
ing tolerance, of being intolerant. So I closed the
subject in disgust, and went off for a walk in Vene-
zuela by myself.

I had not been gone more than a quarter of an hour
before I heard the Howlers making a great roaring in
the direction of the camp, so I turned and careered
back to try and catch sight of them.

Sure enough there were a number of them beyond
Gwen's tent, swinging about in the trees overhead.
I watched them walking along the branches from one
tree to another. After a time the roaring became
fainter, and at last one of them probably the
leader gave a final grunt, and there was silence.
Soon after this they all departed, and did not come
back to the camp any more, although later I heard
them roaring faintly in the distance.

Later

Yesterday was Gwen's birthday. She celebrated
it by having her hair cut (by me), but she was a bad,
fidgety subject, and the result was not what it might

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have been. In the evening we had swizzles, which
would have been greatly improved if there had been
an egg with which to make them. But there wasn't,
and we had to fall back on Bird's custard powder.

To-day was Maurice's birthday, which astonished
those of us who did not expect it. Two birthdays
running in one family seemed a bit excessive, we
thought. Again we had swizzles, and they were
considerably more palatable than last night's, because
the fair hen had obligingly produced an egg.

Gwen and Maurice and Frederick spent the after-
noon felling trees at the top of the Brazilian hill. This
gives a pleasant impression, as you look up from the
camp, of clear open spaces just over the crest of the
hill.

Before I came up to the forest I used to think of it,
and wonder whether the perpetual living in semi-
darkness, roofed and walled in by trees, would induce
claustrophobia, the horror of which can only be
appreciated by those who have experienced it. Most
fortunately this is not the case. Perhaps the fact of
the attention being so constantly focused upon inter-
esting details precludes it; or perhaps again it is the
outdoor life and the manual labour that does away
with any morbid strains.

A sickening incident occurred this morning. I rose
as usual, dressed, strapped on my field boots, and
went out to the logie for breakfast. Suddenly I
became aware of a curious tickling sensation just above
my right knee. Mosquitoes again, I thought, and
decided that I must recommence putting my mos-
quito net up at night. The tickling continued. Some-

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how it did not feel quite like a mosquito bite. I retired
to my tent, removed the boot and the trousers, and
there, crawling up my leg, was an immense centipede.
It was at least four inches long, substantially built,
and had millions of legs. A most repulsive creature!
I flung it away in disgust, and it was not until later
that I realized how lucky and astonishing it was
that it had not stung me. Then I remembered that
when I was given the scorpion cut I had been told by
Soo that it also rendered immunity to the stings of
centipedes, and some other insect that I cannot
remember at the moment. No doubt it will come back
to me when I have an encounter with one, and it
fails to sting.

The centipede must have been lurking in my boot
unpleasant thought. It might just as easily have been
a little snake. In future I shall make a most particular
point of shaking everything out thoroughly before
putting it on.

A quadrille bird came and sang in the camp to-day.
We listened to it spell-bound. It had eleven separate
flute-like notes, clear, cool, distinct, and they fell
through the darkness like shining drops of rain. It is
the crowning wonder of the forest, this strange un-
earthly music. I think that Hudson must have had it
in mind when he wrote of Rima singing.

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CHAPTER VIII

STILL NO GOLD

Later

THERE is no denying that the forest teems, positively
teems with things that bite. If it isn't mosquitoes it is
bete rouge, and iF it isn't bete rouge it is quite certain
to be mypouri, as these vile bush ticks are called.
They are so small that you cannot see in order to slay
them, and they are far more ferocious than lions
more powerful too, for what can you do against an
armed, invisible foe? It is quite impossible to defend
oneself against their onslaughts, I have covered my-
self with ammonia, with corrosive sublimate, with
germicidal soap, but they seem to like it. None of
these things are the smallest use until after the event,
and then they only serve to allay the irritation in a
slight degree. Now that I come to think of it, I remem-
ber that Juan, in the days before his Fall, once told me
that it is a good idea to smear oneself all over with
kerosene, as mypouri are really discouraged by it
but then I should be discouraged too.

The subject, the question of mypouri, is very much
on my mind at present, for the very good reason that
I am devoured by them, completely covered with
bites. I suppose that I must have brushed against a
nest of them on my way back from the workings this
afternoon. All the same, as I stand here with an
expression, no doubt, of torment on my face, and rub

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myself against the post of the logic as a coW rubs
itself against those peculiar stones that sometimes
stand in fields, I would not change places with anyone
in the world, nor would I be anywhere but where
I am, up here in this stupendous, insect-ridden forest

The shop is built and ready for use. Row upon
row stand the tins and the sacks, waiting to be bought.
We hope we hope but the dream I used to have
of queues of customers streaming in from the four
quarters of the globe, grows faint.

We have been here a month now, and have had two
customers, the ragged man I mentioned before, and a
Venezuelan colonel who bought a very small quantity
of sugar. A Venezuelan colonel sounds a grand and
strange thing to meet in the forest, but it is neither as
grand or as strange as it sounds, because all Venezue-
lans whatever their class and colour, seem to be
colonels, and any one that finds his way up here does
so because he is a fugitive from justice.

This particular colonel was grubby and unshaven,
but more or less white, and he understood a little
English. I remember him sitting in the logie talking
to Maurice and telling him about a rich creek that he
had discovered over the border, and Gibson chiming in:

'Don't believe him, Major. He lies. All Spagnols lie/

I remember also that he had the loveliest pair of
lavender-coloured trousers which I passionately
coveted; were the store exclusively mine I should have
insisted on being paid for the sugar in kind, but as it
isn't, and as none of the others saw the matter in a
proper and sensible light (because they would have

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STILL NO GOLD

had far more than a dollar's worth of pleasure out of
seeing me in them), I am still going dismally about in
mud-coloured khaki* The alternative is a pair of
Corsican fisherman's blue trousers, but they are too
long in the leg and too large in the waist, so that when
they are not falling off, they are trailing in the mud,
which, as I have said before, is yards deep all over the
forest. Another of their disadvantages is that if the
rain catches me when I am in them, the dye comes off,
and turns me, from the waist downwards, into an
ancient Briton. So now I only wear them for dinner,
held up with a gaudy blue and gold necktie that I
bought for the purpose in Georgetown.

Solomon and Soo are not on speaking terms, and
Gibson told Gwen who told me that it is because Soo
used bad language in Solomon's presence, and 'blas-
phemed his Maker'. So Solomon., who is a very
particular man, is having nothing more to do with
him.

An uproar arose in the clearing the other night.
We pictured all sorts of dreadful happenings: Solomon
and Soo going for each other with bush knives; the
running amok of Big Black Wilson; the sudden descent
of a tribe of hostile Indians, or of marauding Spagnols,
or a hungry tiger. While we were lying in bed wonder-
ing what had better be done about it, the uproar died
down as swiftly as it had started.

Next day we made inquiries, and were told by Soo
that he had had a vision, in which he heard his wife
(who is far away in Georgetown) calling him. So he
was very much perturbed until the vision changed,

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and he saw her sitting on the edge of her bed smoking
a cigar. Then he knew that all was well.

Poor Rachel had an attack of fever last night and
was therefore unable to go out cutting with Maurice
this morning, so Gwen reluctantly laid down the pen
for the ploughshare, so to speak, and took her place.
I decided to remain at home because the effects of the
chill are still with me, and I had promised myself a
pleasant morning in the camp, cutting and washing
my hair.

They set off with lunch in a haversack soon after
breakfast.

The new trail is almost completed. Rachel and
Maurice have worked like Trojans, but unfortunately
none of the creeks they prospected en route have been
very satisfactory. Gold mining is a discouraging
business. You work so hard, with such persistent
optimism, and the end of it all, if not exactly dust and
ashes, is so often extremely slight. If all the gold the
expedition has found up to date were sent floating
down the river on a leaf, it would hardly sink the leaf.
Still, one never knows what will happen. That is the
unending charm of it. At any moment, in any creek, a
fortune may be found. Some years ago a pork-
knocker working in a pit not ten miles from Five
Stars picked up a nugget weighing 333 ounces. Any
one of us might do the same.

With this in mind I gave up the certain pleasure of
cutting my hair, and went to gamble in the pit near
Frederick's logic. It has been abandoned by the others,
but it is still full of promising looking clay and gravel.

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I worked till lunch. I tore my hands; I broke my
finger nails, because I had overlooked the possibility
that the men might have taken away the pick axe,
and I washed batelle after batelle without the small-
est success. Suddenly an enormous nut, of even
greater size and weight than the nugget I had in
view, fell from a great height with a crash to the
ground a few yards away. If it had fallen on my head
I should have been killed instantly.

I turned the second batelle upside down, and put it
on my head like a tin helmet in case another nut
should fall, and continued washing. But it was heavy
and uncomfortable and kept slipping off, and when
the batelle I was working was finished, and the result
was only one miserable c eye 3 , I decided that gold-
digging was a fooPs game, and returned in a bad
temper to the camp.

We had a delicious stew for lunch, which was most
enjoyable, and Rachel and I made the most of a free
occasion and put butter in the bovriL

After lunch I cut my hair, and washed it, and sat
out on a log among Owen's wabie beans, and let it
dry,

No sooner was this done than the forest grew dark,
and yet darker, we heard the warning roar in the
distance, and then came the rain. It was a regular
cloudburst. In a few minutes the camp was like a
creek, water running in all directions, notably through
the kitchen, which made Gibson very disgruntled. It
also poured in a fine ceaseless stream through the
roof of our logie where the tarpaulin joins the thatch,
and I had to move my chair.

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The first force of the storm only lasted for ten
minutes or a quarter of an hour, but it was still raining
hard and steadily when Maurice and Gwen, looking
like drowned rats, came in. They had hot baths
and tea, and then they played Pelman patience, and I
looked on with a superior expression. After dinner
they played Pelman patience again, and so to bed.

Later

I have had a most dreadful experience, and am still
almost too exhausted by it to write it down in my
diary. It all came of attempting the impossible too
soon after being ill.

Since I have been up in the forest I have collected a
number of remarkable spiral sticks. The spiral is
caused by bush rope having wound itself round the
tree or bough; in course of time it falls and leaves these
grooves. It is quite a common experience to see
crooked spiral sticks, but perfectly straight ones are
very rare and difficult to find. I am proud of my
collection, and have for some time past been anxious
to stain them with stain from some forest tree.

One morning I spent a considerable amount of time
boiling some red bark in an old butter tin, but the
result was not satisfactory. So that when Maurice sa<d
last night at dinner that he had noticed on the new
trail a wild mangrove tree, the bark of which is often
used for staining, and asked whether I would care to go
out with him next day and collect it, I assented eagerly,
and we set off immediately after breakfast this morning

We trudged for miles and miles, to the very end of
the detestable trail, but the wild mangrove, tree had

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vanished, and there was nothing for it but to turn and
come back empty-handed.

In the whole course of my life I have never felt so
sick with exhaustion as I did on that return journey.
The first part of the trek from Five Stars to Pepe's
Greek was the merest child's play by comparison. I
felt that I would die, and was quite certain that I would
be sick, but I just managed to reach the camp without
collapsing. Once in my tent I looked at myself in the
looking glass, and was shocked, but not in the least
surprised, at the peculiar blotched appearance of my
face. For some time after that I felt too ill to eat, and
brandy had no effect, but at last I recovered sufficiently
to nibble a biscuit, and gradually returned to life.

It was a truly awful experience, and I hope that I
shall never have to endure such torture again. The
mud, the swamps, the desolation, and the mountains
on that trail must be seen to be believed. It would be
heavy going at the best of times, and it was sheer
madness to attempt it so soon after being ill.

I find difficulty in thinking of anything but the
Walk, but the diary would be incomplete if I were to
omit two important events that occurred to-day. The
other hens have started laying, and the little maroodie
died this afternoon. We put it in a basket near the
fire, and gave it brandy, but this only served to revive
it temporarily, and it died soon after.

Later

^Torrential rain all last night, and to-day the creek
is a torrent, and the stepping-stones by which we
cross it to get to the hill deep under water.

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I set off very early on the usual search for saplings
with, which to continue flooring my tent, waded
through the swiftly flowing creek with some difficulty,
and climbed the hill. It was not until I had got to the
very top of it that I discovered that I had come without
my bush knife. So I had to turn and go all the way
back again. It was very annoying.

The camp was deserted except for Gibson, who was
wandering about reciting the Commandments. I
told him about the knife, and he evinced shocked
disapproval at the folly and danger of going out into
the bush without it.

'Miss Arbut, my dear lady/ he said, 'I see dat you is
not a tough gold digger.'

I was annoyed at this, and told him to stop talking
nonsense, and help find my knife. We searched. It
was not in the tent, nor was it in the logie. I began to
be worried. We have only one knife apiece, and with-
out a knife in the forest you simply cannot exist. I
was overjoyed when it was discovered sticking into the
ground near the Gungersucker tree, but could not
imagine how it had got there till I remembered that
I had been practising throwing it like a Mexican
yesterday evening.

The sun was filtering through the trees, so I took my
camera out of the canister and slung it on my shoulder
in case I should come upon a beautiful creek where there
was enough light to take a time exposure.

Once more I set out, waded through the creek, and
climbed the hill. It was wonderfully still. All I
heard was the call of the bird that will always, as long
as I live, remind me of the forest. It is more a whistle

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than a song; two notes with an upward inflection, then
a third note, sweeping down.

I walked on, stopping occasionally to cut a good
stick.

Some time later an insect crawled down the back of
my neck. I removed the camera, and tore off the
shirt, shook it out, and was in the act of putting it on
again when I noticed a little yellow flower a few yards
away that I had never seen before. I crawled after it,
picked it, and saw another one a little farther on ...
Much later I missed my camera, remembered taking
it off when the insect crawled down my neck, and tried
to retrace my steps. But I had been so deeply absorbed
looking for the flowers that I had wandered a long way
without noticing in what direction I was going, and
had neglected to take the precaution of blazing the
trees.

I sped anxiously in the direction from which I
thought I had come, but the way was soon blocked by
an impassable barrier of fallen trees, and a tangle of
undergrowth. I tried in another direction, thinking
with a brief flare of hope that I recognized a landmark
in a huge wood ants' nest bulging from the trunk of a
tree. But this took me to a collection of large stones
that I knew I had not passed before.

I stood and gazed helplessly about me . * . Which
way had I come? . . . What was the best course to
take? . . .

There was a rumble of thunder, and great drops of
rain commenced to fall. Darkness gathered in the
forest. Then came torrential rain, and obliterated
everything. The last hope had gone; I was lost.

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A change had come over the forest. Until now it
had seemed friendly and beautiful, and I had passed
along barely conscious of its identity. Now it was
alien and threatening a malignant, relentless force.
I felt that it was intensely alive and aware of me had
been so, no doubt, ever since I set out from the camp.
But it had charmed me with its air of beauty, and by
placing the flowers in my path had lured me to
destruction. Now that its purpose was almost accom-
plished it had let fall the mask. It had returned to
itself.

The darkness, the silence beyond the rain was
charged with danger ... It was closing in on me
suffocating me! I started to rim wildly among the
trees. Roots tripped me up, a thousand strangling
fingers were stretching out to grasp me! ... Panic
began to pour through me in waves . . . This would
never do. I pulled myself together, sat down on a
tacuba, and tried to survey the situation calmly.
Obviously the thing to do was to think out a plan of
action. I thought one out. I would start from this
point, walk for half an hour, blazing the trees as I
went. If this led nowhere I would return to the start-
ing point, and try in another direction. The new trail
to the Barima must be somewhere in the vicinity, and
if only I could strike it before nightfall all would be
well.

By this time the thunder w;as fainter, and the fury
of the rain had abated, but it was still coining down
in a steady downpour, and the desolation of the scene
could hardly be exceeded. Plastered with mud, and
with the rain streaming from my depressed person,

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I must have fitted in so well as to be almost indis-
tinguishable from the surrounding vegetation.

I set off, and after I had walked for what seemed
like a great many miles and was about to turn back
I hit the trail.

It was a moment of most blessed relief, and an
extraordinary stroke of luck that I should have come
upon it. A trail is the hardest thing in the world to
detect if you have once lost it, and if a white person
were blindfolded and taken half a dozen yards off it
the chances are a hundred to one against his ever
finding it again, even if the blindfolding were re-
moved.

So I thanked my stars, and set offjoyfully along the
trail, but I had not gone very far before I stopped to
wonder whether I was going in the right direction.
Was I going towards the camp, or towards the river?
Here was a new predicament. Supposing that I
were half-way along the trail, and going away from
the camp, it would be dark long before I could rectify
my mistake, and my plight would be little better than
before. For the first time I regretted that I had not
helped to make the miserable trail.

As there was no manner of discovering which was
the right way and which the wrong, I continued along
the way I had started, and nearly wept with joy when
I came to the crest of a hill, and heard the homely
voice of the game cock. No sound had ever seemed
more beautiful. I staggered for I was very tired
down the hill and through the creek, and in a few
minutes I was at home once more, surrounded by the
tents and the hens, and the blessed sight of Gibson

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cooking the dinner, and the rest of the expedition
playing Pelman patience.

Later

The rainy season must be at its height. We have
had downpours of rain every day this week, and the
mud in the camp is appalling, and beginning to smell
very unpleasant, especially near the logie. We cannot
imagine what the cause of this can be, for all rubbish
is burnt, and the old tins are thrown into a deep pit
that was dug for the purpose.

Each day I have been up the Brazilian hill, and
hunted everywhere for my camera, but the place of
the insect seems to have vanished into thin air. The
camera was in a leather case much the same colour
as the ground, so I am afraid that there is small chance
of finding it. I am very sorry indeed to have lost it,
for I have had it for a great many years, and used it in
strange and interesting circumstances.

Gibson has a new expression. c Believe me de Fader! 3
he says, when he wishes to be very exclamatory.
The first time I heard him use it was some days ago,
when, after great provocation, I suggested that he was
Ia2y. He was most indignant,

'In all me life, Miss Arbut, you is de first person
to call me lazy, believe me de Fader! 5

He no longer brings me water in the mornings in
the bucket, but uses an empty lard tin instead, because
it holds, he says, exactly the right amount of water.
He looks very comic entering the tent, bearing the lard
tin carefully in case any water should spill, and he be
forced to the exertion of getting more, and dressed in a

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most peculiar garment that he has fashioned for him-
self out of an old flour sack. All he did was to make a
hole for his head to go through, and two more holes
for his arms. We call it the Harvest Queen,, because
it is indelibly stamped on it, back and front.

I asked him one day whether he wore the Harvest
Queen for the sake of its beauty or its comfort. At
first he would not deign to reply. Then he said:

'Never since I know myself did I hear a lady hum-
bug me like Miss Arbut,' and sighed deeply.

In reply to a request made by Gwen this morning
he answered, 'Dear lady, all being well, and God
willing, I will wash de chutney bottle to-morrow*.
We get a lot of fun out of Gibson.

A reef has been located between four and five miles
from the camp, and we have great hopes of it, for the
indications were good. Sometimes I go and work
there with the others, but more often I go down to
the abandoned workings beyond Frederick's logie,
and wash the gravel there by myself. Each batelle
yields a certain amount of gold. Twenty minutes
before lunch Gwen rings a bell; faintly through the
trees I hear it sounding, put down my batelle, and
and return to the camp.

Soo brought in a live turtle the other day, which was
supposed to lay edible eggs. During our lunch hour
on the following day we went and looked at it in its
box, and the poor creature had such a depressed air
that we took it out and put it instead in an impro-
vised hutch which we made by leaning a batelle
against the hollow between two buttresses of a tree.
When it was done we stood and watched the turtle

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for a while, but it did not so much as wink, so we went
away, and when we returned half an hour later the
batelle was flat on the ground, and the turtle flown.

Frederick has a charming little new puppy. It lives
in his logie, together with all his friends and relations.
I stopped there this evening on my way back from the
pit, and saw it being played with by Loelia. It is the
dearest little creature, and wears a necklace of beads.
*Dat girl 3 , as Frederick calls his wife, was squatting
on the ground, feeding a little marm bird with insects.
All Indian women have pets, and their main occupa-
tion in life seems to be hunting for insects with which
to feed them.

We smiled at each other, the Girl and I, further
intercourse being impossible, because I speak no
Carib, and she no English and is stupid into the
bargain. Frederick was lying in his hammock resting
after the day's hunting, and he addressed the few
remarks at his disposal to me in the soft, plaintive
voice that he has in common with all his race,

It is strange to realize that the Caribs (almost all
the Indians with whom we have come in contact are
Caribs) were once the fiercest and most warlike tribe
in South America, and were reputed to be cannibals
as well. Indeed, the word cannibal is said to be a
derivation of Carib. Judging by the manner in which
they went down like ninepins before the onslaught of
influenza at Pepe's Creek, I imagine that physically
they are no longer what they were, although why this
should be is hard to ascertain, for they lead apart
from Casseri drinking parties a healthy life, and
there has been no contact with white men to vitiate

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them. The only other denizens of the forest here axe
a handful of pork-knockers, not more than a couple
of dozen all told, who are concentrated at Arakaka
and Five Stars. There is a certain amount of mingling
between these and the Indians, and the result
Bovianders, as they are called are stronger and
healthier than pure-blooded Indians. The children
are exceedingly attractive, with the bronze skin and
straight features of the Indian, and curling hair.

Gibson says that a Boviander child is always the
favourite in an Indian family, and an object of pride,
but this is a little hard to believe, for surely a Boviander
child in an Indian family implies a lapse on some-
body's part. But perhaps Indians are not particular.
On my return to the camp I found a huge frog
sitting in my bath, which was folded up on top of the
canister, and on the bed the little lizard that fell into
Rachel's permanganate bath last week. She dried it,
put it out in the sunshine, but it has never really
recovered from the shock, and is always lying about
the camp in a sleepy condition.

Last night I had an escape from a muneri ant.
They vary in length from an inch to an inch and a
half, and are fat and black, with a very pronounced
waist. Their sting causes acute pain, and is as much
feared as the bite of a snake. So when I entered my
tent, and saw a very large specimen crawling on the
ceiling of the tent just above my bed, I was horrified,
and called to the others to come and help me get rid
of it. They came, armed with bush knives and a flash
lamp. Maurice stalked it for some time, and finally
flicked it with a dish rag into the open canister, which

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was not what he had meant to do. Gwen, who was
tired of the hunt, immediately shut the lid, telling me
to go to bed and empty the canister in the morning.
So this morning I opened it in some trepidation and
shook out all the clothes, using a long stick as a pitch-
fork. To my amazement the muneri had vanished.
It is inexplicable! I saw it fall into the canister; I saw
the lid closed; and I can swear that nobody entered my
tent during the night.

Juan, by the way, is back in the forest, encamped
near Five Stars. An Indian brought a letter from him
yesterday evening, in which he writes that he has c a
lady with him who is the fiancee of his friend, Mr.
Constant Himmelblau, who will shortly come from
over the Venezuelan border with three mules and
some cash, and will buy many stores.

There came to the camp to-day a black man from
Martinique at least he originally came from Martin-
ique. To-day he came from Five Stars. He is called
Josef Moscou, is tall and slender, and speaks the most
elegant French. The greater part of his life has been
spent working gold in the Guianas. 'II y a un
endroify he begins, leaning with his elbow on his
knee, and a far-away look in his eye and we draw
near and listen with bated breath while he tells us
of hidden creeks where gold is to be found in profusion,
and diamonds glitter in every sieve. He also tells us
that Juan has an East Indian coolie girl with him, and
that 'Us sont dans une tente\

Our disapproval of Juan's methods and peculiarities
has been growing steadily ever since he went away, and
this last piece of information has, so to speak, put

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STILL NO GOLD

the lid on it, and we have sent back a note stating in
no uncertain tones our astonishment at his various
inaccuracies that have come to light, and saying that
he and his friend had better keep to themselves, as we
have no room in the camp for other thsin members of
the expedition. We are waiting with some interest
to see what his next move will be. It is certain to
be something surprising, if I know Juan.

Later

Three days have passed since we sent the note to
Juan, and there is still no sign of life from him. In the
meantime so many momentous happenings have
occurred that I am beginning to lose interest in him.

In the first place I found my camera; and I put
down its recovery to a little white feather that I found
lying among the dead leaves when I started off up the
hill on my usual search. I stuck it into the ground
and wished that I might find the camera before the
day was out, then put the matter out of my mind, and
concentrated on looking for sticks and flowers, in the
hope that by putting myself in the same frame of mind
as on that disastrous day I might follow the same
course, and so come upon the camera.

Half an hour later I stopped to wonder where on
earth it could be, looked down, and there it lay at my
feet. I brought it back in triumph to the camp, and
am surprised and delighted to find that the leather
case seems to have acted as an effectual protection
against the torrential rain. And apropos of astonishing
things happening in the rain, Solomon made a bonfire
o"f dead leaves this morning, because we thought that

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they might be contributing towards the mysterious
smell near the logie. It rained continuously all day,
and this evening we were amazed to see a flame leap-
ing up from what we had imagined to be a sodden
heap.

Gibson is getting above himself* Gwen overheard
him ordering Frederick to leave his work and re-
thatch the kitchen roof.

'Certainly, Mr. Gibson/ responded Frederick.

Gwen, who intended him to go out and hunt,
immediately countermanded the order.

We discovered later that Gibson had been bribing
him with large quantities qf lard from our private
store.

The next thing he did was done, we are sure, with
malicious intent, for he is certainly not stupid.

Gwen instructed him some time ago to cool the
fruit salad (tinned) by standing it in a shallow part
of the creek. He waited to do so until yesterday,
when the creek was in flood, and a roaring torrent,
with the obvious result that the fruit salad was swept
away.

In the afternoon she gave him several pairs of
trousers and some shirts, and told him to take the
tin bath down to the creek and wash them in it.

I watched him going down with a scowl on his face,
and watched him coming back later with a still worse
one.

'Well, Gibson/ I said to him, C I hope you washed
the clothes nicely. 5

He looked viciously at the wet bundle in the bath.

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STILL NO GOLD

c De next time de Mistress tells me to wash dey
pants/ he muttered. Til beat de life out of dem,'

To-day his laziness and general ill-humour reached
their climax, and Gwen blew him up. He had been
working up for a row all the morning, protesting,
when she told him to wash a basin, that it was not his
work, and a little later, when he was told to sweep the
logic floor which was covered with leaves, and peel-
ings from my sticks, he did it exceedingly slowly and
unwillingly.

'I is a tough gold digger, 3 he said, thrusting out his
chin pugnaciously. 'What you want is a housemaid. 5

Finally he shoved the tinned salmon, which he had
been told to heat up slowly, into the very depths of the
blazing fire, with the result that it was ruined.

It was then that Gwen blew him up. She told him
exactly what she thought of him, and gave him notice
several times over.

'Whenever there is anything to be done you are
always in your logie, smoking your disgusting pipe!'
(We had to banish it from the kitchen.) 'Well, you
can go and smoke it now. I have had more than
enough of you!'

'But I don't want to smoke my pipe!' he protested
weakly. However she said that she did not wish to
see him again, and the enemy retired, routed and dis-
comfited.

During the afternoon, Solomon, who is confined to
camp on account of a badly poisoned foot, went and
talked reprovingly to him, with the result that when
he appeared in the logie at tea time he was most
humble and apologetic, and quite staggeringly help-

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fuL By this time Gwen was in the happiest and most
amiable of moods, having successfully concluded the
first act of her play, and was prepared to forgive any-
one anything.

After tea she and Rachel and Gibson and I mended
a leak in the kitchen roof with fresh palm leaves. We
had barely finished it when it began to grow dark, and
a tremendous wind uprose. The trees swayed in a
most alarming manner , and many branches crashed;
the low rumble of thunder came nearer, a solitary
baboon roared a warning from over the creek, and we
flew out to collect the clothes which had been drying
on logs. No sooner were they all in than down came
the rain. It was the most torrential that I have seen,
and after it was over we were proud to find that our
thatching had kept it out.

After tea we had a tremendous hen hunt in the
clearing.

The hens all lay occasionally, but they are not to be
relied upon, and we thought that by putting them into
a fine coop with a run that Solomon has made, they
might lay more regularly.

We surrounded, and closed in upon them, but they
managed to escape several times in spite of the fact
that the ring was composed of a dozen people:
Solomon, Soo, Wilson, Gibson, Moscou, Frederick,
three other Indians, Gwen, Rachel, and myself.
It usually happened that we would corner them one
by one behind the cases in the shop. Haifa dozen of us
would guard each end, and then advance slowly upon
the agitated hen, who, at the last moment, would fly
tempestuously out over our heads and escape into the

222

STILL NO GOLD

rawest bit of bush it could find, where, no doubt, it
hoped to remain, and lay an egg that nobody could
possibly discover.

Eventually, however, all the hens were captured,
and conveyed, squawking violently, to the hen house.

To-day being Sunday we got up late, and spent a
pleasant morning doing nothing of importance.
Rachel made herself happily grubby improving the
fern garden; Gwen sewed; Maurice cleaned his
revolver; I made a miniature golf course, and played
on it with a round nut and one of my sticks. Gibson
in his logie sang hymns. Sunlight glinted through
the trees.

In the afternoon Gwen, Rachel and I went out
'perusing the bush', as Gibson calls it, for rare orchids.
Orchid-hunting is a difficult and exciting occupation,
difficult because the orchids which are not among the
tree tops, and therefore inaccessible, are usually to be
found among fallen rotten tacubas, and to reach them
you have to push and hack your way through a
tangled wilderness of undergrowth like that which
sprang up round the palace of the Sleeping Beauty.
It is exciting because of snakes, who seem to prefer
such places to any others. Rachel almost put her
hand on a black and brown one this afternoon that
was lying curled up on a log. If it were not for the
immunity which rightly or wrongly I believe to be
rendered by the Gut, I think I should leave orchids
alone, and stick to gold.

This afternoon's quest was not very successful.
I struck off by myself so that the others and I should

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not catch sight of the same orchid at the same time,
and they get it first. Occasionally I would hear
exclamations of pleasure as they succeeded in their
search, but I could not see a sign of an orchid any-
where. At last I spied a magnificent large one
or rather its root, growing on a tree at the junction of
the trunk and a branch. The root was impossible to
reach, so I cut a very long stick, and after a great deal
of effort succeeded in dislodging it, and my orchid
fell to the ground. I picked it up and took it to Gwen
that she might put it in the haversack, but when she
saw it she said that it was only an ordinary life plant.
After that I gave up looking for orchids, and con-
centrated on leaves instead, and was fortunate enough
to find a soft grey spray, and some remarkable green
ones backed with purple.

On the way back we passed an immense mora. It
was one of the largest of its kind that I have seen, and
made all the other trees look puny beside it. I had
nothing with me with which to measure its girth
except a pocket handkerchief, and this would have
taken too long, but it must havp been of an unusual
circumference, for the divisions between the buttresses
were as large as fair-sized rooms. In one of them lay
a broken marm's egg. It was pale blue, and about as
large as a hen's egg. Cables of bush ropes as thick as
a man had wound themselves round the vast trunk
of the mora up the top, and hung down in great
festoons. I hacked off a piece of one- of the more
slender bush ropes, and brought it back as a specimen.
It was spiral in form, and although it appeared on
first sight to be soft and springy, it was, in reality,

224

GWEN AND INDIAN BOY ON GIANT TREE

STILL NO GOLD

exceedingly tough and hard to sever; but no doubt
this was partly due to the fact that it is always harder
to cut a swinging pendulous piece of wood than one
on a more solid foundation.

We had tea as soon as we returned, and after tea
I suggested that we should play advertisement snap,
but as usual nothing came of it. Gwen decided that
she must go to her tent and read. Maurice and Rachel
also found that they had important things to do, so I
went up the Brazilian Hill by myself, skirted round
the creek, and from the far side had a very good view
of Gwen in her tent. As I expected, she was lying on
her bed, last asleep.

Later

Juan's reply has come. It arrived this afternoon
by the only form of post in the forest an Indian.
He neither denies nor alludes to the accusations
levelled against him except to say c No doubt your
friends (R. and I.) are disgusted that they do not find
gold and diamonds in the camp, and that this is the
reason that you are discouraged'.

Maurice has gone to his tent to compose a scathing
reply, which the Indian will take back early to-morrow
morning. Gwen and Rachel are feverishly trying to
write letters, and the necessity of getting them done
in a limited amount of time seems to have driven any-
thing that might be said out of their heads. Even
when there is no hurry it is almost impossible to write
letters up here in the forest. Our life is so utterly
different and removed from the lives of those to whom
we write. Who, in a world that teems with hens, is

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likely to understand our enthusiasm over the laying
of an egg, or to share our delight in the utterances of
Gibson when they have never seen, and could not
possibly imagine? If letter writing is to be at all profit-
able there must be a shared understanding between
the writer and the reader, and people seem to be
astonishingly incapable of being interested in things
out of their own horizon.

When the time comes for me to return to civiliza-
tion, and people meet me, they will probably say:

C I hear you have been living in a jungle! Do tell
me what it is like, and what you did there/ And I,
being of an ingenuous disposition, and inclined to
commit before considering, will probably embark
upon a description and will continue until I glance
at my listener and see in his or her eye the glazed
and wandering look that betrays the utmost bore-
dom.

Gwen and Rachel, with this foreknowledge no
doubt at the back of their minds, are racking their
brains, and, metaphorically at least, tearing their
hair. I am not attempting to get a letter written this
evening, because I know that I couldn't do it, and
because I know too that sooner or later Juan will send
up a reply to Maurice's letter, and Maurice will send
down a reply to Juan's letter, and my letter can go
by the same Indian at the same time. At Five Stars
he will pass it on to some other Indian who happens
to be going down river in his coreal, and in this way
it will pass from hand to hand until it reaches Arakaka,
where it will probably wait for several months until
there is a boat going down ?to Morawhanna. At

226

STILL NO GOLD

Morawhanna it will board the Tarpon, and be con-
veyed to Georgetown, and so home, across the
Atlantic. If our letters ever reach their destination
they ought to be framed.

Soo and Gibson had a terrific fight yesterday after-
noon. It started in the store tent, where Gwen was
counting the tins with Gibson, and seeing what we
have left. Soo came over from the clearing and asked
if he could have some currants to put in a sweet loaf
that he is making for us, and Gwen told Gibson to
give them to him.

'How many shall I give him, Mistress? 5 he asked.

c Oh! I don't know, 5 said Gwen, preoccupied.
'Give him the tin, and he can bring back what he
doesn't use.'

'I shouldn't do dat, Mistress/ answered Gibson, in
spite of the fact that Soo was standing beside him.
'You can't trust de man atari. He is capable of taking
de whole tin for himself, and den telling you he has
put dem all in your loaf. De man is a tief.'

Soo listened to this unprovoked attack with a look
of growing fury spreading over his face. Then he
said, very quietly, and with deadly import:

c Dis man, Gibson, Mistress, is a black-hearted devil.
When you back is turned he takes all your best food
and eats it himself, and he'll do worse if you don't
watch him. 3

Gibson became pale and speechless with rage, and
Soo continued in a voice of withering scorn:

'Your property at Arakaka is nothing but a dirty
little mud hut, wid on yam and two sweet potatoes in

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de garden. Why if you saw a motor car you would
faint!'

This was too much to be borne, and Gibson
advanced towards his detractor with clenched fists and
flashing eye.

'Liar! 5 he hissed. 'Snake! Tief! 5

'Bush Bat!' hurled Soo, as he backed across the
camp, stopping every other moment to fling a fresh
insult.

It was fortunate that neither of them had on
knives, for murder would certainly have been done.

At last Soo disappeared among the trees, and
Gibson returned to the kitchen, and wandered about
it, muttering unprintable things.

Rachel and I both had interesting experiences
to-day, for she caught a lovely little golden beetle in
the morning, and in the afternoon a coral snake nearly
caught me. Here I must pause, and admit because a
diary must be truthful that accuracy has been
sacrificed to neatness. The snake had no designs on
me at all. It did not even see me, for as I came along
the trail it was slithering into its hole at the side, and
its head, and what would correspond to its shoulders,
had already disappeared by the time I saw it.

These coral snakes are curious unreal-looking
creatures, striped black and orange. They are not very
long, nor any thicker than a thick thumb, but they are
extremely deadly. Solomon tells me that if a coral
snake is found in a gold pit it is a sure sign of luck. He,
by the way, had an extraordinary stroke of luck
yesterday, for he fell into the shaft, which is now eleven

228

STILL NO GOLD

feet deep, and was not even bruised. The only
casualty was Soo, whom he hit on the head with his
spade while falling.

Later in the day I watched Solomon cutting down a
tree. In spite of having only one eye he is a magnificent
axe man, and never misses his aim. 'Oh! Mama dead! 5
he exclaims from time to time, as he swings his axe.
The reason and meaning of this expression is a mystery,
and it is no use asking him to explain it because his
English is quite incomprehensible.

We have let the hens out of the coop, because they
did not seem to like it, and once more they wander at
their own sweet will about the bush. They actually
have the intelligence to lay in the clearing, so that we
have no difficulty in finding the eggs. Indeed, the
difficulty is no longer to find the eggs, but to collect
them when found, for the black hen is determined to
hatch them into chickens, and sits immovably on the
nest. I do not know much about such matters, but
imagine that she must have been having dealings with
the game cock. That wretched bird is becoming
noisier and more objectionable every day. Perhaps it
is the result of having three wives, though surely this
should have the effect of subduing him. But no; he
struts up and down in the lordliest manner, and every
time one of the hens lays an egg he crows and cackles
just as if he had done it himself and so do both the
other hens.

I went over to the clearing just now to collect the
eggs, and found that as usual the black hen was sitting
on them. So I approached my hand to the nest in
some trepidation, fearing that she might peck at me,

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but after I had stroked her head, and given her a little
push, she rose off the eggs and allowed me to take
them.

On the way back we nearly measured our length in
an appalling patch of mud that lies between the camp
and the clearing. However, after a tortured minute of
uncertainty I managed to regain my balance. We are
going to have the eggs buttered for dinner with fried
onions, and some of the bread that Gibson baked this
morning.

This baking of bread is an even greater ceremony
with Gibson than it is with Soo, and he dresses himself
up in the most astonishing manner for it, with a dish
rag tied round his waist on top of the Harvest Queen,
another round his neck, and a third on his head under
his cap, so that it hangs down all round.

While he baked I sat on the log that runs along one
side of the kitchen, and he told me the story of the
celebrated Madame Pepe (from whom, no doubt,
Pepe's Creek gets its name) who lived in the forest
about Five Stars many years ago, and worked gold
there with her husband.

'She was very fierce,' said Gibson, 'and gave out dat
de bush belonged to her, and if a pork-knocker wished
to go along de trail she would not let him pass unless
he paid her.'

*. . , But supposing he refused to pay? 5

'She took away his clothes,' he answered. 'You
couldn't escape her. 5

'* . . But she couldn't have been everywhere at once.'

'She had policemen,' he said. 'Dey might be black
men or Indians. You never knew who might be her

230

STILL NO GOLD

policemen. Dat is what made it so difficult. She
caught me once/ he added ruminatingly.

'And did you pay?'

'I did/ he answered. "Dere was no help for it. 5

I asked whether her husband had approved of these
high-handed ways.

'I cannot say, iny dear lady, 5 answered Gibson. c He
had to do what she said.'

So much I thought for the subjection of the
Latin woman.

'What happened to her? 5 I asked. 'Where is she
now? 5

'She went back to Venezuela, 5 said Gibson. 'Colonel
Pepe became a judge.'

A giant tree crashed during the night, and woke
everyone up. It may have been several trees, for they
are so intertwined with bush rope that when a heavy
tree falls it often pulls half a dozen others down with it.

The floor of my tent is now completed, and is the
greatest comfort and convenience, especially when I
have my bath, which is very much inclined to tip up
on an uneven surface, and before I made the floor I
had great difficulty in avoiding spikes, which sprung
up through the earth as fast as I cut them down; and
while I am on the subject of springing up, I notice that
a stick which I cut the other day and stuck into the
ground in order to fasten one of the guy ropes to it,
has sprouted. The irrepressible way in which life
persists, and the quickness with which it appears in the
forest is almost horrifying. Throw a twig on the ground
one day, and a tree is growing there the next day. The

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radishes that Gwen planted are no exception to the
rule, for they shot up so rapidly that they jumped right
out of the earth, and are lying about the plot on their
sides in a most disastrous and disordered manner.

A dweller in jungles once told me that he had cut
and stripped some wood, and made a table with it, and
that within a week it was covered with leaves, and had
grown several inches. But I must admit that the tale
does not ring quite true, Still, it is true in essence if
not in fact.

Three of my senses tell me that dinner is ready, and
I must go and prove it with the other two.

Three hours later

The buttered eggs and the fried onions were
perfectly delicious, and at the end of dinner we had
Sowarri nuts, quite fairly divided by Gwen.

Later

Rachel is becoming quite a credit to me. She hardly
ever passes biscuits in her fingers nowadays, and a few
moments ago I saw her placing her cigarette ash on a
log instead of flicking it on to the floor or what would
be the floor if we were living in a house instead of a
jungle. And apropos of cigarettes, Gibson excelled
himself in the matter of cheekiness the other day.

Long ago I gave up smoking, because it is so im-
possible to smoke what you roll, and that is what we
have had to do since the last tin of cigarettes was
finished soon after we left Arakaka. Either you pack
it tightly, and lick it up so well that it won't draw, or
you don't, and the result is a miserable, weedy-looking

232

STILL NO GOLD

object with dismal strings of tobacco falling out at
either end. The other day, fired by Rachel's success, I
determined to make a good one. So I rolled it, and
stuck it, and put it into a holder in order to keep it
together.

Gibson watched me puffing at it, vainly trying to
keep it alight.

*. . . A fine big cigarette/ he observed, c for a nice
little boy.'

To be called a nice little boy' by one's cook, even
so unusual a cook as Gibson, was an experience I
had never had before, and I did not know how to deal
with it in a dignified manner. So I pretended that I
had not heard, and shall make a point of peeling the
remainder of my sticks in the logie so that he has to
sweep up the resultant debris.

Business is much as usual. That is to say there isn't
any. Not a customer has appeared since the Colonel
with the Trousers; and as we expected, Mr. Constant
Himmelbeau was merely one ofjuan's flights. Our store
of gold remains depressingly small, and the reef is
suspected of not being a reef at all. As a result of all
these misfortunes dinner is usually a gloomy meal, and
I am beginning to be positively thankful for Pelman
patience, for at least it is better than unending conver-
sation about Juan's iniquities and mining. When you
have mined unsuccessfully all day you don't want to
talk about unsuccessful mining all night.

Solomon Indian (as he is called to differentiate him
from black Solomon) killed an alligator near the hen
house yesterday. No wonder the hens felt so uneasy
there, and were so anxious to get out! Wilson killed

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another one farther along the creek near Frederick's
logie. He says that 'Alligators are very good to eat, but
you must first remove their instincts*.

It has been a lovely day, with no rain until this
evening. As I came out of my tent this morning I
heard Gwen making use of one of the most dishonest
devices employed by women for saving themselves
trouble.

Gibson was showing disinclination for some manual
labour I think it was to go and collect palm leaves
for the roof and Gwen was spurring him on by
pandering to his masculine vanity,

'If I, a weak woman/ she said, 'can mend the roof,
surely you, a Man, can do it. 5

When he had gone I expressed my disapproval.
'How long, I wondered in conclusion, 'would men,
poor blinded creatures, continue to be tricked by this
fiction of feminine weakness . . .'

'They like it. It makes them feel strong. 5

'Don't interrupt. I hadn't finished . . . Where was
I? Oh! yes! . . . and so led by the nose wherever the
stronger sex (by virtue of its superior wisdom) would
have them go? Do you deny, 5 I concluded, 'that
every woman, unless she is even more than usually
stupid, knows perfectly well that it is she who calls the
tune? 5

'I am neither denying or affirming anything, 5 Gwen

said with a sigh, 'but as I see that you are determined

. at all costs to air your opinions, and as I know from

past experience that the forest is neither wide nor secret

enough to hide me from them, I bow to the inevitable,

234

STILL NO GOLD

and suggest that you analyse this superior wisdom of
women.

'Certainly, with the greatest pleasure; I had every
intention of doing so. They have greater quickness of
perception, greater logical powers (witness the pro-
verbially feminine intuition), more common sense.
They are less egotistical, less arrogant, less vain, less
blind, less prejudiced less boring. 5

She glanced at me quizzically.

'. . . Less boring/ I continued firmly. 'Cast back
your mind and think of the number of times you have
been buttonholed by some dull, elderly, unappetizing
man, and made to listen by the hour to the recital of
his soporific experiences. 3

'Yes/ she admitted. 'That's true. I have. 5

'Does he/ I went on, invigorated by this slight
victory, 'trouble to ascertain whether you are in the
least interested? Does he, in fact, consider you at all
except as a kind of elegant waste-paper basket?'

'Perhaps not, but don't you find such simplicity
rather touching?'

'Touching perhaps for five minutes. After that it is
excruciating. Think' I went on, memories crowding
upon me 'how much more often men try to instruct
you than women. Think particularly of political men,
and how they boom at you, and even, in advanced
cases, pursue you with pamphlets. 3

'They are not trying to instruct you/ Gwen said.
'If they thought about it at all they would probably
consider you uninstructible. They are merely enjoy-
ing the sound of their voices, and at the same time
getting rid of surplus vitality.'

235

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I could think of far pleasanter ways of getting rid of
surplus vitality, but did not say so.

'. . . But how is it/ she added, 'that you seem to
prefer the society of the miserable male to that of your
own superior sex?'

'Because, like all the best people, I have in me some
qualities of the opposite sex. One of them is vanity,
and I find that men pay more attention to me than
women.'

'Well I never!' she exclaimed. 'Haven't I been
listening to you for the last half hour?'

'You listened to me because you had to, not because
you admired me.'

'Not at all, my dear Joan,' she said soothingly, 'I
admire you very much. Now you run out and play in
the forest. You'll probably find your friend Gibson
mooning about somewhere looking for a palm. You
and he can talk to your hearts' content.'

'I shall do nothing of the sort,' I said, slightly nettled
at the way she had said 'play in the forest'. 'I am going
down to the pit to work, and I shall remain there till
the evening.'

She laughed. 'Well, you'd better hurry, or you won't
get there till the evening.'

I went off without paying any further attention to
her.

On the way to the workings I almost saw a tiger.
I was walking along the trail, admiring the way the
sunlight filtered through the trees, and thinking, while
I kept a wary eye for rare leaves, and bark that might
stain my sticks, of one thing and another; that the
perpetual green twilight and the obscuring trees gave

236

STILL NO GOLD

to the forest a mystery that open country lacked; that
forests were therefore better for living purposes than
deserts,, mystery being more stimulating than certainty
which was tantamount to saying that ignorance was
better than knowledge. But was ignorance better
than knowledge? ... A sudden rustling, and then an
alarming e Ough!' between a cough and a growl,
broke in upon my musings. 'Tiger 5 , flashed through
my mind, and I looked round hastily for a tree to
climb. There wasn't one in sight. The lowest branches
were at least twenty feet from the ground. There was
not even a hanging coil of bush rope up which I
might have been able to swarm. Nothing for it but to
trust that the creature was not on a hunting expedition,
and that the wind, from my point of view, was in the
right direction.

I stood stock still and very frightened for a few
minutes, but nothing happened, and the silence re-
mained undisturbed, so at last I summoned up courage
to move, and grasping my knife more firmly, continued
along the trail.

But now all pleasure in my surroundings had gone.
The sunlight might still be flecking the leaves and
quivering upon some dark patch of earth I did not
see it. The perpetual stirring of the forest that lies
behind its silence might still be making a music more
lovely than anything on earth I could not hear it.
Nor did I care whether ignorance or knowledge were
the happier state, for my mind was intent on tigers.
Visionary tigers were all about me. On stealthy
padded feet they followed me along the trail, pausing
when I paused, continuing when I continued. I

23?

MORE PROFIT THAN GOLD

remembered a story I had heard of a tiger who had
stalked a man along a trail in this way for nearly an
hour. Then the following footsteps quickened, and
came nearer. The man stood still, and a large tiger
flashed by, almost touching him as it passed. He
heaved an astonished sigh of relief, and continued
along the trail. Farther on there came a bend. He
rounded it, and as he did so, the tiger, who had been
lying in wait, leapt upon him. A terrible fight ensued,
but finally the man thrust his knife into some vital
part of the tiger, and so won the day. He was dis-
covered much later in a horribly mutilated condition,
but lived to tell the tale.

This, then, was the story that kept running through
my head, only instead of the man, it was I who was
being stalked, and finally attacked ... I had rounded
the bend in the trail, and the tiger had sprung ... it
tore at me with its claws ... it snarled horribly as we
closed in mortal combat ... I must strike quickly and
strike home! ... I prepared to do so, and remembered
that in the story the man had not specified where
home was. Could it be behind the ear? Or was I
thinking of elephants? It was a most awkward situa-
tion, and I was still trying to decide where to strike
when the pit loomed into view, and for a short time
drove the tiger out of my head. But only temporarily,
for when I had loosened some earth from the pit, had
loaded the batelle with it, and was sitting at the edge
of the creek, the tiger came back, and I thought of
Selina.

A foreword about Selina. She is the most remark-
able indeed the only remarkable woman I have met

238

STILL NO GOLD

in the forest. Married to a Chinaman called Chung,
she herself is three parts Indian and one part Vene-
zuelan. She works gold, which no other Indian does, and
carries immense loads, once straining herself through
carrying one hundred and fifty pounds' weight. She
is strong-minded, intelligent, and rather attractive.

A tiger, she says, once came into her camp and
chased her up a tree, where she spent a great many
unpleasant hours while the tiger, for some reason best
known to itself, prowled growling round the base of it,
instead of following her. Eventually it departed, and
she commenced climbing down. Instantly it leapt
back into the camp, and it was not until the evening,
when Chung and his fellows returned, that the tiger,
intimidated perhaps by the sound of voices, slunk off,
and Selina was able to come to earth.

These two stories proved that tigers were capable of
attacking without provocation, and that they were
tricky as well. For all I knew, the growl I had heard on
the trail might even now be lurking behind a tree
trunk, watching me. It was a most uncomfortable
sensation. I washed a few batelles, which yielded even
fewer specks of gold, then the lunch bell sounded
faintly through the trees, and I made my way back to
the camp.

'I thought you were going to remain at the pit till
the evening, ' Gwen said as I sat down at the table.

She is as full of guile as a tiger, I thought, remem-
bering the ringing of the lunch bell.

Rachel and Maurice came back at half-past five,
having had an unsuccessful day at the workings. They
are now in their tents, having hot baths. Torrential

239

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rain has started, and although the gramophone is
playing less than two yards away I cannot hear it for
the beating of the rain upon the leaves. Thunder has
been not rumbling but exploding round for some
time. It is like a distant bombardment . . . Blast this
rain! It is coming through the roof again. It is be-
coming colder every minute,, but I cannot go to my
tent to get my leather jacket because the waterproof
is there too, and I do not want to spend the remainder
of the evening in soaking clothes.

This part of the week has been pleasant but unevent-
ful, apart from the increasingly abusive letters from
Maurice (as prospection continues to show poor results)
and the imperviously amiable ones from Juan that
pass backwards and forwards between this camp and
Five Stars. An Indian messenger is perpetually in the
camp, either leaving or arriving. One came to-day who
says that his name is Kaiser William, and I know
another called Baden Powell. Baden Powell and
Kaiser William! Could anything be more unsuitable?
Indians should have the names usually associated with
them: Swift Arrow; Drifting Leaf; Roaring Water, and
so on. It is, of course, quite possible that they have, for
at its birth every Indian child is given by its parents a
name which is kept a profound secret for the rest of its
life. This seems odd, but perhaps the reason for it is a
very proper respect for personal privacy. By the same
token one Indian will never stare at another, even
though it happens to be his own child. I remember
being struck by this as we came up river, and Indians
in their coreals passed us by. It is extremely doubtful
whether white men had ever been seen by them before,

1240

STILL NO GOLD

and certain that white women had not, yet they never
appeared to take the slightest notice of us. Chung
says that 'Indians are very strong for etiquette 5 .

It must be nearly dinner time, for Gibson is laying the
table. I wonder what it will be? . . . Pork, probably.
Two having been shot, and they large, we shall almost
certainly be afflicted with pork (smoked) for the next
month . . . Pork it is!

Later

Still no gold, and no business, and the situation is
really becoming serious. A considerable amount of
time has passed, and our small capital, principally in
the form of stores, is dwindling. The many ridiculous
things which are continually happening, and which,
no doubt, happen on all expeditions, and the intense
interest and pleasure of our life up here in the forest
tend to obscure for me at any rate the seriousness
of the venture. We have all put everything we could
lay hands on into financing the expedition, and to
more than one of us its success is of the very first
importance. Maurice is a magnificent worker. He
never spares himself. It makes me feel quite tired to
think of him. Last month, when he was covered with
bush sores an appallingly painful complaint he
still went out working every day. And Rachel too is
indomitable. She trudges out every day to the pit
and stays there till the evening. She has brought up a
number of excellent books, and reads them after her
bath and before her dinner; she plays that detestable
Pelman patience almost every evening and wins each

Q, 241

MORE PROFIT THAN GOLD

game, and when she is not doing any of these things or
having a bout of fever she can usually be seen in the
least elegant of attitudes blowing up the kitchen fire.

But it is on Gwen that the principal burdens of the
expedition fall, and on her, ultimately, that we all
depend, for she is the organizer, packer, and purveyor
of stores, the binder of wounds, the oil upon the waters.
She inspires, encourages, and consoles, in fact does all
that the Holy Ghost is supposed to do, and in her case
it is really very estimable because if there is one thing
she dislikes more than stores it is wounds, and if there
is anything she detests more than either it is being oil
upon the waters.

All this, however, is by the way. Back, therefore to
business, which, as I said before, is about as bad as it
could be. The poverty of the creeks along the new
trail was a great disappointment, and all our hopes
are now centred on Wilson's Hill.

He discovered it, he says, last year, when he was up
in these parts working alone. The indications were ex-
ceedingly good, but he had to give up before long owing
to lack of water. However, now that the rainy season
is at its height there will be water in abundance in the
creek, which is a couple of hundred yards from the hill.

We are starting work there to-morrow.

Next evening

We rose particularly early this morning, and had set
off on the hour's walk well before nine o'clock. When
we arrived we found a large pit about fourteen feet
deep and ten feet wide among the trees on top of a
hill. To one side lay a huge mound of earth.

242

STILL NO GOLD

Solomon and Soo let themselves down into the shaft,
and after a short examination showed that it was only
necessary to dig a foot lower than the existing depth
before we would penetrate through the clay to gravel.

We cut a rough trail from the hill to the creek, and
spent the morning carting buckets of gravel to the
water's edge. In the early afternoon the pile was
sufficiently high, and we prepared to wash through the
gravel to see what it would yield.

Soo, Solomon and Wilson crouched at the edge of the
creek with loaded batelles in their hands; they were
chattering with excitement and enthusiasm, and arguing
as to which batelle would yield the biggest nugget.

He tink he hide/ Soo exclaimed, referring to the
nugget. c But dis time I catch he!' and Solomon's
expectations, though incomprehensible, were equally
obvious. Their enthusiasm was catching, and hopes
ran very high indeed. We began to see ourselves
carrying home the gold in the kerosene tins that we used
for baking bread.

One, two, three batelles were washed, and as each
one yielded no more than a few miserable eyes our
hopes began to fade, and the excited chattering of the
men lessened and finally died away. We worked in
silence. . . .

This evening we returned dejectedly to the camp.
Perhaps we shall strike a richer patch of gravel to-
morrow.

Next day

Worked the hill gravel all to-day. Most
disappointing.

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The day after
Still no results.

Later

News! An Indian appeared in the camp to-day with
a letter for Maurice which had somehow reached Five
Stars and had been sent on by Mr. Cook.

It was from the well-known and respected business
man in Georgetown.

'Dear Sir/ it said.

'In March of this year Mr. Juan A. obtained from
me twenty thousand pounds' weight of stores for the
purpose of re-stocking a bush store on the Venezuelan
frontier.

'He agreed to send the equivalent value in gold as
soon as the stores were sold.

'He informed me that he was in partnership with
your syndicate, and as I have received no news of Mr.
Juan A., and am unable to get in touch with him, I
should be glad to know what your syndicate proposes
to do in the matter. I am, sir/ etc.

So now, as the stores are presumably not yet paid for,
and as we have no intention of being held responsible for
them, we have sent word to Juan that we have severed
connection with him and asking what he wishes done
with the store. Thank goodness we made a point of
specifying in the agreement that we accepted no
responsibility for the purchasing and cost of the stores.

Two days later

His answer came to-day. It commenced severely
'Sir', but although it was very short, simply stating

244

STILL NO GOLD

that he wished the store to be handed into the keeping
of a rascally Venezuelan borderer called Comman-
dante, he had at the end forgotten his formal beginning
and ended: 'I am, dear Major/ etc. etc. There was a
postscript: Tor Mr. Wilson I have no work, as I have
discovered him to be a person of two faces.'

We cannot imagine why he should make this
assertion about Wilson unless perhaps he has heard that
Wilson showed us the Hill, which Juan wished to
acquire for himself, though indeed he would mind less
if he knew how little the acquisition would have
profited him. We worked all through the gravel there
but the results were negligible. We are now trying
farther along the banks of the creek.

Gwen, Maurice and Rachel went out prospecting
this morning and I was left to guard the camp. Soon
after they had gone Gommandante and two other
half-breed ruffians friends of his who have taken up
their abode in the shop strolled into the camp and
demanded rations, saying that they had nothing to eat.
They looked very surly and unpleasant, and I regretted
that I had left my revolver under the mattress.

'Why did you not come and ask half an hour ago
when you knew the Mistress was in the camp? 5 1 asked.
c You must have seen her going through the clearing,
and you know perfectly well that I have nothing to do
with the stores. If you want anything you can come
back later when she returns. 3

They went off looking very sullen. A little while
later Gibson reappeared and I told him what had
happened.

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'You was quite right, my dear lady/ he said. C I
have no doubt in me mind dat it was a bloody trick. 5

Then he sat down in Maurice's chair leaning his
head in his hand, and looking very depressed.

'What is the matter, Gibson? 5 I asked. 'Aren't you
feeling well? 5

'No, my lady, I am not feeling well because I have
a toothache. 5

Toor Gibson! I am so sorry. How long have you
had it? 5

Tor twenty years, my lady/ he said, and my sym-
pathy instantly dropped several degrees. You can put
up with almost anything, I reflected, after twenty
years. Wives with tiresome husbands; tiresome
husbands with tiresome wives; all manner of annoy-
ances. Even a twenty-year-old toothache probably
attains a certain dignity.

'You see, Miss Arbut/ Gibson went on, 'because I
am a poor man I cannot afford to have my teeth
extracted. Now if I were a rich lady, I would take
forty dollars from my pocket and buy some new ones. 5

I gave him some aspirin and some Bunter's Nervine,
and promised to give him a fine new set as soon as I
had made a fortune, and he went off to his logic
looking more contented.

Frederick went to Five Stars a few days ago, and
returned this evening in a pair of blue trousers and a
khaki shirt like mine. He walked into the camp
looking rather self-conscious. We congratulated him
upon his smart appearance, but as a matter of fact he
was far more beguiling in his former state of undress.

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STILL NO GOLD

Wilson also went to Five Stars, but has not yet
returned. It has rained incessantly for several days.
The result of the latest prospection is about as bad as
it could be. And now Rachel is in bed with another
bout of fever. The gloom at dinner to-night was
unbounded, and reached its apex in Maurice, who
kept heaving immense sighs, and would not even play
Pelman patience.

We have had what solicitors call c an extraordinary
meeting of directors' and have decided to move to
another district as soon as the gravel we are at present
working is worked to what will probably be its bitter
conclusion.

This projected move is rather a nuisance, just when
I have at last succeeded in making my tent really
habitable, with all sorts of labour-saving devices, and
have continued the corduroy flooring half way to the
logic. I had intended to floor the whole camp in time,
for the mud is really a great trial, but I suppose that
the others are right, and that the only sensible thing
to do is to try our luck somewhere else as it so con-
spicuously doesn't seem to be here. Still, I shall be
sorry to leave , . . the lid of my canister has broken, so
it will have to be tied on with bush rope.

Later

The shop is becoming a sort of pork-knockers*
club, presided over by Gommandante, who spends the
whole of every day and night lying there in his
hammock. He says that of course nobody will buy the
stores because they are too dear even if there were
anyone to buy them, and that if Juan does not pay

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him for guarding them he will pay himself with rations.

I went into the clearing just now to collect the eggs
(the hens now lay, and lay, and lay), and saw Com-
mandante in his hammock surrounded by no fewer
than four strange black men. Evidently he was
regaling them with choice morsels of conversation,
for every now and then grunts of approval or a guffaw
of laughter would rise from his audience. I was
astonished, because Commandante as a wit was an
idea that had never occurred to me. He has always
seemed much more like a malevolent slug than
anything else.

Now that I come to thitik of it, one of the four men
was probably Juan's new employee. Gwen told us at
lunch that as she went through the clearing this
morning she noticed a more than usually disreputable
looking individual, who, when asked his business, said
that Juan had sent him up to assist Gommandante to
look after the shop, that his name was Secretary, and
that his orders were that no British person was to be
allowed to cross the threshold of the shop. Really,
Juan is a gem!

We continued the discussion on emancipation and
the suffrage this morning after breakfast. Gwen was
more sensible to-day, and agreed with almost every-
thing I said.

C A man likes his wife to know enough to be able to
agree intelligently with him, 5 she concluded cynically.

Gibson, who as usual was hovering near, and waiting
for an opportunity to join in the conversation, did not
quite know what to make of Gwen's remark. I watched
him turning it over in his mind.

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STILL NO GOLD

When both parties are in agreement, conversation
is soon brought to a full stop, so I switched on to another
subject: moral versus aesthetic beauty. It did. The
argument waxed fast and furious. Gwen and Rachel
taking one side, I the other, and continued until Gwen
suddenly realized that the morning was passing, and
that nobody but Maurice who had gone down long
ago to that disappointing pit, was doing anything but
talk. This annoyed her.

'The trouble with you, Joan/ she said, looking
unamiably at me, 'is that you never want to do any-
thing but talk, and talking is almost always a waste of
time. 5

I would have liked to analyse this last assertion, but
I was swept aside.

'Hamlet/ she continued, 'was perfectly right when
he said that:

"The native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;
And enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action."

That's what you are, "sicklied o'er with the pale
cast of thought", and not very elevated thought at
that. One of these days you will realize that you have
spent the whole of your life talking and that has
even less to be said for it than thinking, because it
makes more noise. 5 And with this parting shot she
retired to her tent.

'De Mistress is too wise for you, Miss Arbut/ said
Gibson, who is always impressed by quotations, 'and

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you do wrong to prefer a beautiful physiog to a kind
heart.'

I denied having said that I preferred it, but he paid
no attention.

Rachel is feeling weak to-day, as a result of Dover
Powder and quinine, and did not come down to the pit.
I worked there for several hours, and found a few fair-
sized pieces of gold, but nothing worth making a song
about. In the afternoon I went up the hill on the other
side of the creek to collect wood, and found a very good
spiral stick, and some black-eyed Suzans. They were
very large ones, almost as big as broad beans, and
would serve splendidly as counters if the others could be
induced to play poker one evening instead of Pelman
patience.

I also found several orchids, 3, 'monkey gobble 5 and
another smaller kind with spotted petals. This I bore
home with some pride and showed it to the others, who
said that it was not an orchid at all, but I do not
believe them.

Later

Somebody once said or did I read it in a book ?
that prisoners and those who live in the wilds have this
in common: They are both still. Somewhere, out of
sight and sound, the hum of the world's life is going on,
but they are utterly removed from it still. This is
probably quite true. A moment ago I saw how true
it was. But now that I come to write it down it seems
to have lost its significance, to be, in fact, without any
particular point. That is the worst of reducing vague
perceptions to words. You don't crystallize them. You

250

STILL NO GOLD

lose them. You end, nine times out often, and to put it
metaphorically, by being unable to see the wood for the
trees, which is a pity, provided, of course, that there was
ever any wood to see. I feel sure that there was some
sort of a word about being still in wilds and prisons.

Someone else said and this time I remember who
it was that man's ordeal is in society. This is true
too. If it were not so late, and the lamp showing signs of
going out, I could dilate at great length upon the theme,
and show as conclusively as the easy unvexed passing
of the days up here has shown me, how true it is.

This forest; what is it? What likeness has its spirit
a lowering Titan, or a Rima of young leaves? Is it
kindly or malignant, harsh or fair, young or old?
It is all these things and none of them. It is utterly
non-human, beyond the encompassing of words. It
inspires the most diverse emotions hatred, love, fear,
contentment. It is aware of you, yet leaves you free;
and you are aware of it, always, all the time, even
though you may be occupied with the absorbing
incidents of everyday life; suddenly you look up and
seem to catch it watching you. Conrad says that c its
stillness is that of an implacable force brooding over an
inscrutable intention', and that is probably the last
word that should be said. But it can be very lovely tefo,
and throws a binding enchantment. Above all it is
entirely satisfying, because it demands no adjustment.
To meet it you must be utterly free, utterly true . . .
Now the lamp is going out. I knew it would. That ass
Gibson seems to be incapable of trimming and filling
it. I must remember to tell him to-morrow that he is
a foolish virgin. That is sure to get a good rise.

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MORE PROFIT THAN GOLD

It is worrying to have to go to bed with unexpressed
and unpleasant pictures chasing one another through
one's mind. There are gossip writers (even male
gossip writers), social climbers, business men getting
the better of each other all manner of waste, greed,
blindness, folly, and vexation of spirit. And over it all
a perpetual meaningless clatter. There's a lot to be
said for jungles.

Next day

Looking back to yesterday's entry I see that it does
not contain one item of news. As a matter of fact there
wasn't much to record. Silence from Juan, no gold
from the pit. Maurice, who is quite the most deter-
mined and indomitable man I ever met, goes off early
every morning with Solomon and Soo, and Rachel,
when she is not having fever, goes too. Each morning
after breakfast Gwen is to be seen at the logic table
preparing their lunch. It is always the same, powise
or marm sandwiches, a piece of chocolate, and the
inevitable tea. There is a brief period of commotion
during which line sticks, lunch, hats and knives are
being collected, then off they go, and once more peace
descends upon the camp, and the silence is unbroken
save for Gibson singing as he washes up the breakfast
things.

To-day, however, the procedure has been different,
and from my point of view a complete waste of time.
It was Gwen's fault, the outcome of an acrimonious
argument that took place as we walked down to the pit
yesterday afternoon.

'Rachel looks stronger than you, 5 she said, and

252

STILL NO GOLD

instantly my blood began to boil 'and she is also far
more energetic. Doesn't she go and work all day long
at the pit and does it every day too. Good Heavens!
she exerts herself ten times as much as you do! 5

At this my indignation knew no bounds, because
I could not deny that Rachel shows a livelier interest
than I do, and does go off religiously to the pit every
morning. Long ago I discovered that unless there is
something definite to do there, such as washing or
digging, it is much more interesting and profitable
to wander about the forest collecting curious specimens,
and to return to the camp for lunch. I told her so with
some heat, and added that if she were not so attached
to the inside of her tent she would be aware that I was
always out and on my feet from ten till lunch, and
from lunch till six.

C I know why you are annoyed, 5 she said. 'I t is because
I said that Rachel looks stronger than you though why
you should care I cannot imagine. It is too childish.'

I did not bother to reply, but vowed to myself that
in future I would march out to the pit regularly every
morning, and spend the entire day there working like
a galley slave. That would teach her.

So this morning very early indeed I buckled on my
knife, revolver, and field boots, pulled in my belt, and
set off with some biscuits and a piece of cold bird in
one pocket, and a brandy flask in the other.

There was nothing whatever to do at the pit except
to examine stones through a microscopic magnifying-
glass in order to see whether they contained seams of
gold. They never did, and it is a detestable work. One
eye has to be permanently screwed up, and the focus

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altered every second owing to the irregular surface of
the stone. Maurice was in the kind of mood that makes
the world seem like the Slough of Despond, and we
started arguing as to the superiority of Australian or
Venezuelan gold pans (one has a groove and the
other hasn't). The argument went on for a long time,
and I began to wish that I had not come down to the
pit at all.

Then all of a sudden the long-lost Wilson turned up
with a couple of piratical-looking black men dressed in
bright red cummerbunds, and the air cleared.

Wilson, who has been at Five Stars, was full of
interesting information about Juan. Apparently, he
(J.) told Wilson that he was going off to Tumeremo,
guided by Commandante. Wilson assured him that
Commandante was not likely to lead anyone to
Tumeremo because he was a fugitive from its justice.
However, they started off in this direction next morn-
ing, but reappeared in four days 5 time with a story of
having been lost in the bush.

'What! 3 said Wilson, unpleasantly, 'lost on your own
line! 5 (Juan says that he made the trail to the frontier.)
I expect that what really happened was that he came
up here and scouted round the camp in order to find
out what was happening.

He has spread all round Five Stars the story of the
rupture between himself and us, and the stories that
he has probably spread about me, whom he seems to
regard as the principal mischief-maker, simply don't
bear thinking about.

'Why don't you go up to the camp and settle things
with them?' asked Wilson.

254

STILL NO GOLD

But nothing would induce him to do so.

The Major and the ladies are all armed/ he said.

'But white people fight only with the pen/ said
Wilson. However J. was not persuaded of this, and is
sure that if he shows himself in the camp he will
instantly be greeted with a volley. Poor Juan! He
cannot believe that everyone does not think and
react in his own South American manner not that
he is a South American, but he is very like one. As a
matter of fact our sentiments towards him are per-
fectly friendly; we only deplore his riotous imagina-
tion, and his business methods.

At twelve-thirty we stopped stone gazing, and
prepared to have lunch. Solomon and Soo came up
out of the pit where they had been shovelling, and
settled down to eat the mess of rice, prepared by
themselves, which they had brought out with them in
old lard tins. Before eating, Solomon spent some time
carving a spoon. Maurice says that he makes a fresh
one every day. It seems rather a waste of effort.

Rachel and I played a game of poker to-night
before dinner, using my black-eyed Suzans as counters.
But poker is not really much fun with two players,
and we soon gave it up.

During dinner (smoked pork) we discussed affairs
of state, and it has been decided that Maurice and
Wilson are to go off to-morrow for a fortnight to
prospect a possible reef that Wilson knows of about
forty miles away, in- the direction of Five Stars. In the
meantime the rest of us will remain up here and finish
prospecting any creeks that have not already been
prospected, and then, unless Maurice comes back with

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MORE PROFIT THAN GOLD

something really startling up his sleeve, we shall pack
up and move, I suppose to another district.

A week later

These last days have been exceedingly pleasant.
Tolerable weather, everyone in a good temper, and
no fewer than three games of advertisement snap. And
we had swizzles one night in honour often eggs being
discovered in an unexpected part of the clearing.
Some of the eggs were certainly not in their prime,
but that wasn't the hens' fault.

Gibson was very ingenious this morning. It started
to rain very suddenly just before lunch, and Gwen
darted out of the logie to rescue the clothes, which, as
usual, were drying on logs and bushes. Gibson stood
and watched, making no attempt to move.

'Why didn't you go and take in the Mistress's
clothes when you heard the rain coming?' asked Rachel.

'Dear Lady,' he replied, quick as lightning, 'haven't
you heard dat it is not proper for a man to touch a
lady's garments?'

Last night I could not sleep. Over-excitement,
perhaps, caused by the advertisement snap; and after
a time I gave up trying, and decided to read. It took
some time to light the lamp. The matches were damp.
But at last I succeeded, and started reading Hamlet.
I read it all through, and then after I had thrown the
book to the end of the bed I looked out through the
flap of the tent, and saw that the dawn was breaking,
and the first faint light shining on the wet forest leaves.
It was incredibly lovely ... I shall never forget it.

256

CHAPTER IX

GOLD!

Five days later

MAURICE is back! We were astonished to see him
walking into the camp this evening, looking exceed-
ingly hot and rather threadbare, but with a cheerful
expression on his face, and it has every reason to be
there, for the potential reef which he went to prospect
with Wilson turns out to be a genuine one, and
promises to be really rich. Outcrops of gold-bearing
quartz have been found over a large area. The reef
is within easy reach of the river, and he has already
staked several claims and cut the lines. We are
naturally delighted with this news, and had a swizzle
party before dinner in honour of it.

After dinner we had another 'extraordinary meeting
of directors 9 , and it has been decided that we break up
the camp and go down country to Georgetown as soon
as possible to register the new claims as concessions
and equip another expedition the expedition which
is to open up and develop the new reef.

They have all gone to bed now, and suddenly, for no
accountable reason, I feel most desperately depressed.
Something has happened ... is happening. Some-
thing is coming to an end. At various times during my
life I have had this feeling, this consciousness that the
threads of life are drawing together. For a long time
nothing happens, or rather, things happen only as you

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MORE PROFIT THAN GOLD

have intended. Cause and effect. And you exist
easily, lightly, secure in the belief that your will
imposes, that you are the master of your fate. And
then suddenly comes this realization that all the time
forces were working in the darkness, and that the
moment has come for their inevitable unfolding.

I feel this to-night or think I do. It is probably
all imagination, the natural reaction after a riotous
evening. More probably still it is fear. Our departure
has certainly been discussed before, but I have never
really visualized it. Now it has become a fact, and I
am afraid afraid that if I leave the forest something
may happen to prevent my coming back.

It has turned chilly. I must stop writing, and go
and put the kettle on for my hot-water bottle . . . The
frogs are very noisy to-night. The noise they make is
like the hoarse quacking of ducks.

A week later

We are still here, and the date of departure is not
yet fixed. Droghers are expensive and difficult to
find, and it is hard to arrange matters so that we may
catch the Tarpon, which leaves Morawhanna on an
unknown date.

Gibson left Maurice's boots too near the fire the
other day, and then went off to take his usual V^-crea-
tion', with the result that a large hole was burnt in the
sole. Maurice was very much annoyed and told him
that he was a lazy careless little beast the laziest
little beast he had ever come across.

'All right, Major, 5 said G. humbly. 'You say I is
lazy. Well, I is not contradicting you. 3

258

a

o
o

tf

15

<<

M

Q

GOLD!

'De Major did quite right to be angry/ he told me
later. 'How can he go around wid only one boot? 5

I hoped that this very proper sentiment meant
that he would be more careful in future, but the very
next day he did the same thing with my shoe. He is
hopeless.

A very large baboon spider appeared in the store
tent this evening, so we are giving the store tent a wide
berth. These spiders are perfectly repulsive; they are
extremely large, covered with long black hair, and they
have pink feet. They move from one place to another
by jumps, and their sting is agonizingly painful.

Freddy has just come into the camp with his hair
parted! We are most impressed. He is becoming
smarter and smarter. Gwen and Rachel both think
that they are the reason, but I know that they are
wrong.

No news of Juan. I suppose he is still in his camp
near Five Stars, entertaining the fiancee of Mr. Con-
stant Himmelblau.

Three days later

Droghers are beginning to arrive in the camp.
They appear through the trees in their ones and twos,
ragged black men from Five Stars, Indians in loin
cloths. A very odd-looking individual turned up
yesterday, a friend of Gibson. He slung his hammock
in Gibson's logic, and we heard them talking and
singing far into the night. To-day he has been very
busy, carrying water, washing up, and generally doing
all Gibson's work.

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'Willikit (that is his name) is a good friend to you,
Gibson/ I said.

c Oh! him ' replied Gibson in an offhand manner,
'He is my slave. He has to do everyting I tell
him. 5

Commandante has gone to Five Stars to fetch
tobacco, and Secretary, it seems, has gone too, to
demand wages. In the meantime half a dozen other
cut-throats are taking stores 'on credit'.

We heard another not very surprising piece of news
to-day, which is that the Colonel with the Trousers
is a fugitive from justice, and is wanted by the Vene-
zuelan authorities on a charge of embezzlement
involving large sums of money; and that by his own
showing he is not a colonel at all, but a mere captain.

The canisters have all gone, the store tent dis-
appeared, and already the camp has a changed aspect.
How desolate it will be the day after to-morrow when
we are gone, and nothing remains but the corduroy
path I started to make, the skeleton of the logie and
kitchen, a couple of tables, and forked sticks showing
where the tents stood, and Rachel's fern garden an
attempt at civilization. I can't believe that we are
really going. We seem to have been here for ever.

This afternoon Gwen, Rachel and I went out for a
last walk along the reef trail, but I left them after
half an hour, and went off by myself. On the way
home I collected some very beautiful leaves, and
uprooted a dozen young palm trees which I am going
to plant round the place where my tent was or
rather still is.

260

GOLD!

Freddy went off early this morning with his wife,
Loelia, Spenser (a deaf and dumb relation), the little
dog, two baby hogs, six hens, a cock and a maroodie.
I think that Freddy is coming down country with us.
He has never been out of the forest in his life, so it
will be interesting to see what he makes of George-
town.

We saw a most remarkable insect to-day near
Maurice's tent. It was a species of beetle, about three-
quarters of an inch long, with two long antennae
sticking straight up from its back, and at the end of
them two orange specks. Maurice and I were in
favour of taking it down country, but Gwen was
against it ... More of that dreadful hog for dinner
in stew this time. We had it cold for lunch, at least
the others did. Gwen let me have sardines instead, and
I ate so many that I have temporarily lost my appetite
for them ... It has been a lovely rainless day, but
exceedingly hot ... Along the trail this afternoon
I heard a very odd sound, just like those paper things
in crackers that unfold as you blow into them.
I suppose it must have been some kind of a bird.

Next day

The camp is in the wildest state of excitement! A
pork-knocker ran into the camp to-day with the news
that our new claims at the reef that Maurice located
the week before last have been jumped! Our board
has been taken down, and the name of an entirely
unknown person has been put up in place of it.
That such a person does not exist is beyond any
question. It is obviously someone with a very good

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knowledge of the district, and from the insinuations
of the men we gather that they have as good an idea
as we have as to the real name of the Person. If He
has already gone down country to Georgetown and
registered the claims we stand very little chance of
establishing our rights. Everything depends on the
Tarpon which leaves Morawhanna once a fortnight
on an unknown date. If it sails this week and the
Person catches it he will reach Georgetown a fort-
night before we do and it will be too late. We are
packing feverishly. . . .

Next day. Monday

So this is the last day. We are off to-morrow at
some horribly early hour. Everything is packed;
almost everything has gone, and the atmosphere of the
camp has entirely changed. I shall be glad to get off.
This feeling of being only half here is worrying and
unpleasant. You can't settle down to anything.

We made a bonfire of old papers this morning, and
after that we had a final hen hunt. Two of the hens
were caught fairly easily and put into the coop, where
they will remain until the droghers are ready to
collect them to-morrow morning. The black hen,
however, evaded all attempts at capture, and is still
at large, and wandering about the bush. Gibson says
that he is going to catch her to-night, but I think that
he will have his work cut out, for she is an agile bird.

I have planted the palm trees all round my tent,
and put a young swizzle tree at the head, so perhaps
some day one of its twigs may serve to stir the swizzle
of a celebrating traveller.

262

GOLD!

The heat is terrific. I expect that when the rain
comes it will be very heavy indeed.

Six p.m., same day

It seems that we are going to walk the whole way
to Pepe's Creek to-morrow, which will certainly not
be less than twenty odd miles. I shouldn't have
thought that it was humanly possible, with the trail in
its present condition. It is an idiotic idea, and I am
sure Rachel suggested it.

Gibson (who has not yet caught the black hen) has
just darted over to the logie and taken a large dollop
of the precious butter to put in the stew. I protested,
but in vain. Gwen would be very angry if she knew,
but there is no denying that stew is greatly improved
by butter.

263

CHAPTER X

THE JOURNEY BACK

Pepe's Creek. Next day. Tuesday
SUCH a strenuous day! I woke, on the frontier this
morning, very early indeed, and seeing a light in one
of the tents, concluded that it was time to get up.
Fortunately I glanced at my watch before doing any-
thing rash, and discovered that I could go back to
sleep for another two hours; which I did.

At five o'clock we all woke, and found that it was
pouring with rain. It continued while we dressed,
packed, took down the tents, and had breakfast.
It continued, indeed, all day long, but more of that
later.

After breakfast the loads were weighed, and as each
drogher put on his warrashi he went off along the
trail and disappeared into the forest.

Towards the end of the weighing and apportioning
a certain amount of excitement reigned, because it was
discovered that we were short of a drogher. What on
earth should we do? . . . We could not carry the
remaining heavy load ourselves, and we could not
leave it behind , . . However, a solution was finally
reached. The droghers who had not already gone
were induced to add what was left to their loads, and
off they went.

We made a last survey of the now derelict camp,

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and having satisfied ourselves that nothing of import-
ance had been left behind, we took our departure.

The trail was inches, often yards, deep in mud, and
it was very heavy going, but the continuous rain kept
us cool, and we walked along at a very good pace,
soon passing the droghers.

At Esperanza Creek we overtook Gibson, who had
nipped out of the camp very early in case anyone
should ask him to carry anything. He was dressed in
the Harvest Queen, and had on the peculiar little
convict cap he wears for travelling. On his back was
a large wanashi containing all his belongings, and
over his head he carried my Corsican umbrella, which
brushed against the trees as he trotted along through
the forest.

The effect was very funny, and I burst out laughing.

'All right, Miss Arbut, I see you laughing at me, 5 he
called. 'Hope you fall down in de mud. 5

And no sooner were the words out of his mouth than
his foot slipped, and down he went, flat on his back,
with his feet in the air. It was perfectly timed.

On we went to Boulder Camp, where we had
arranged to have lunch. Half an hour later the lunch
arrived, borne by a certain Goring Thomas. Maurice,
who had walked with him so as to help him up the
hills, arrived at the same time. It was so chilly sitting
waiting in soaking clothes that we had to run up and
down, and swing our arms like cabmen to keep our-
selves warm. It seemed odd in an equatorial jungle.
I imagined, before I came here, that jungles were like
hot houses, and that if you complained of anything
it was of heat. One lives and learns.

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We lunched, and an hour later we were on the trail
once more. Nothing happened for several hours.
Then we had an adventure.

We were walking along naturally in single file,
Gwen in front, then Rachel, then me when I
gradually became aware of an unmistakable scent.

'Look out!' I called urgently. Tig! 5

Tig nonsense! 5 said Gwen, and assured me that
what I thought I was smelling was nothing more
dangerous than mud.

'Well, have it your own way/ said I, and said
nothing more, and we continued along the trail, the
scent growing stronger every minute. Still no one
seemed to notice it, until suddenly, through the
shedding of the rain, we heard a close, clear grunt.

Without a moment's hesitation we threw down
whatever we were carrying (in Gwen's case it was a
mackintosh, in mine a stick) and took to the trees.
Most of them were quite unscalable. However, we
spied one with a fairly low bough, and lost no time
in climbing on to it. An eternity elapsed while
we clung to the bough and waited for the pig to
appear.

There's an orchid a bit farther up the tree,' said
Gwen in a whisper. 'I think I can get it.'

'Don't you dare move!' I whispered, amazed at her
detachment, and aware that the smallest jolt would
knock me off my perch.

Still we waited, then looked down extremely
anxiously as a rustling was heard on the trail behind
us. 'Here they are!' we thought 'at last!' and pre-
pared for an onslaught. But it was only Gibson coming

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round the corner, the rustling being caused by the
umbrella, which he still held up over his head.

We warned him that we were probably surrounded
by a herd of pig, and advised him to follow our example
and climb a tree.

He looked contemplatively at the trees, and evidently
decided that the climbing of them would entail too
much effort, so pulling a bush knife out of his pack
he advanced with it in one hand and with the
umbrella in the other.

'Are they really so dangerous, Gibson?' we asked,
for we were astonished at his temerity.

'Yes, indeed, dear ladies/ he replied. Dey is very-
ferocious, and will all attack at sight/

This was not very cheering news, but we felt that
we could not be outdone in stoutness of heart by our
cook, so we descended from the tree and continued
gingerly along the trail.

Gradually the scent became fainter, and finally
went altogether. Evidently the pig had passed off.
Later on I smelt them again, but not so overpower-
ingly, and we decided to wait for the sight of the
bushes moving before climbing another tree.

At Cedar Creek we paused, and as we sat down
on a log to rest Gwen remembered that she had left
her bunch of keys behind on the frontier. We were
busy deploring this contretemps when Chung appeared
bearing the keys in his hand. He had passed through
the camp on his way from Venezuela shortly after our
departure, and seeing the keys had brought them
along with him.

We discussed this forgetting and recovery of the

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keys for a few more minutes, then jumped to our feet
and set off again.

From now on progress became increasingly difficult,
for the trail was in an indescribably unpleasant con-
dition, mud up to the knees, bad swampy patches,
and innumerable hills. The hills were particularly
disagreeable, for they were so steep and so muddy
that for every step you mounted you slipped back two.
Added to these trials my left hip gave out as a result
of prolonged walking over the side of my boot, and
was exceedingly painful.

We reached Pepe's Creek shortly before nightfall,
and sank exhausted to the ground.

The place has changed astonishingly since we were
last here, and is hardly recognizable; the creek so
swollen that it is almost on a level with the ground,
and a tangle of undergrowth sprung up where we cut
the clearing for our tents.

In course of time a couple of droghers arrived with
Gwen's and Rachel's tents, but there was no sign of
mine. It had probably, I decided, fallen by the way-
side. However, it did eventually arrive, and I have
pitched it where Juan used to sleep with his revolting
salt fish. I would have preferred my original site, but
a large tree has fallen across it, and I feel that after
months of uninterrupted rain the place must be
purified.

We waited until after dark for the drogher who was
bringing the chop box, but he never turned up, so we
had to dine off the remains of lunch biscuits, and a
little cheese. It was not very satisfying.

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Wednesday. Five Stars

We have arrived, and Juan has gone vanished!
All that is known is that he left his camp very suddenly
last week accompanied by the fiancee of Mr. Constant
Himmelblau. All the black men here are out for
his blood and swear they will have it if he comes
back to Five Stars, for, they say, there is not one
among them who he has not 'humbugged 9 . Juan was
always more popular with Indians than with black
people.

It has been a long, full, and extremely trying day.
I started it by having a heated altercation with
Maurice on the subject of tent rolling. Then I lost my
knife and could not find it for a long time. By ten
o'clock the droghers had gone with the tents, and we
appeared to be going too. We started off and a more
tortured five hours I have never spent.

The mud was awful, and the trail far steeper and
more unfit for transit than yesterday's. Half an hour
after we had started my other leg seemed to slip
out of joint too, and as the chop box had never
turned up we had nothing to sustain us on that
appalling fifteen mile struggle but two biscuits apiece
and some dried figs which we shared with Goring
Thomas.

'They are the staple food of certain Mediterranean
people,' Maurice told him by way of encouragement.
But he did not seem to be impressed.

We walked, we walked, we walked, and at last,
after an eternity of pain, we came out of the forest into
a sunlit clearing with a couple of huts. Half a dozen
Indians squatted on the ground, sucking sugar cane.

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Solomon Indian was among them, and in answer to
our inquiry as to the whereabouts of the river he said
that we would have to go back into the forest, follow
a trail to the left for a mile or so, and then we would
come to it.

Go back into that forest! ... It was almost more
than I could bear. I felt that I would rather die. We
all had sore feet; the inside of my right knee had the
skin rubbed off, and both hip-bones hurt abominably
every time I lifted my feet. And we were famished and
faint for want of food. .^. *

But there was no help for it, so back we trailed
miserably into the darkness, to the serpentine lianes,
the groping roots that tripped us up, the mud. God!
that mud! Slimy, squelching, primeval mud. How
I loathed it! ... At last we came out again into the
sunshine, into a field of sugar cane, and then to
tall cutting grass, shoulder high. We pushed our way
through it, and came to the river, which was flowing
past very swiftly. Almost immediately opposite stood
Mr. Cook's shop.

A coreal was sent across to fetch us; we dropped
into it, and were conveyed across to the farther shore.
We landed, clambered up the steep bank, and stum-
bled into the back room of the shop. Here Mr. Cook
brought us some bread, sugar apple, and bananas;
and a little later we were pleased to see Gibson
coming towards us with a kettle of tea.

At first we were too dazed and exhausted to speak
or think; we just listened dully, while Cook, in the
front of the shop, played his gramophone for our
benefit. He seemed to have nothing but old war

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tunes: 'Tipperary' Tack up your troubles 3 There's
a long, long trail a-winding 5 . . . Poor dim echoes . . .
In our state of utter weakness they were so heart-
rending as to be almost unbearable.

Soon, however, the tea began to have its usual
strengthening effect, and we rose and made our way
across the clearing to our present abode a small dark
hut belonging to someone called Mr. Liverpool. Who
or what Mr. Liverpool is I do not know. But he must
be a black man because Indians are never Misters,
nor, as a rule, do they live in huts.

This one has a very uneven mud floor and a
thatched roof. There are two rooms, an inner and an
outer. Gwen is in one, and Rachel is in the other.
Maurice and I have pitched out tents outside.

The moon is full to-night, and riding serenely across
the sky. Raindrops are hanging from the bushes, and
the moonlight striking them makes a myriad points of
light I am delighted to be out of the forest, and able
to see the sky again. The sudden feeling of freedom
goes to one's head like wine . . . How could I ever
have disliked Five Stars! The place is as lovely as its
name. From where I am sitting I can see a solitary
forest tree which has been left standing at the other
end of the clearing. It looks an immense height,
silhouetted against the sky . . . Odd not to hear the
frogs . . . Their place is taken by the cicadas, and the
night is teeming with sound.

Thursday. Five Stars

Grillingly hot. I have to wear a hat even in my
tent. Gwen is really very exacting. Not only did she

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retire to rest immediately after lunch at twelve, but
insisted on silence, because, she said, she wanted to
read, which means sleep, for an hour. So I had a
boring afternoon, and could not even talk to Gibson.
It was certainly too hot to do anything but flop and.,
gasp. I removed my clothes except for the hat, and
read a few pages of the Martyrdom of Man.

During the afternoon it thundered and rained.
Now it is five-thirty. We have had tea, and Gwen has
gone back under her mosquito net again. Maurice
and Mr. Cook are sitting in the outer room talking
about gold. The incessant drone of their conversation
is rather pleasant and soothing at this distance.
He (Maurice) went out to the new reef to-day to tear
down the poacher's location board. Ours is now up
again in its rightful place. Gibson is fiddling about the
shed opposite which he uses as a kitchen, and Rachel,
I suppose, must have gone for a walk, though where she
is walking I cannot imagine, for the clearing seems to be
surrounded on all sides by deep and impassable creeks
over which nobody has troubled to throw a bridge.

In spite of the place being delightful there is
absolutely nothing to do. This, of course, is partly due
to the terrific heat, which makes exertion impossible
even if there was anything to exert oneself about,
which there isn't. My foot still feels as though a large
steam roller had passed slowly over it, and so, I
believe, does Gwen's . . . Went up to the shop this
morning to get another pair of pyjamas and a shirt
out of my canister. I stood on the bank for some time
and looked at the river. It is very wide and swift, and
quite unrecognizable.

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We have sent a coreal down to Arakaka to fetch
Ghee a Fat's boat. The Tarpon leaves Morawhanna
in a week's time, and I doubt very much whether we
shall be able to make the connection. There is some
talk of going down by coreal if the boat does not
arrive, and I can imagine nothing more detestable.
Coreals tip up if you so much as wink. There is only
a narrow plank to sit on; all day long the sun would
blaze down upon us, and as the river is so terrifically
swift and swollen, and full of tacubas, we should be
quite certain to tip up and drown . . . No coreals for
me! I would rather spend the remainder of my life
at Five Stars.

Willikit slaved for Gibson all to-day. He spent the
morning fetching buckets of water from the river,
which is quite a long way away. After lunch Gibson
called him.

'Willikit/ he said, C I have no wood for my fire/ and
away Willikit trotted into the forest, to cut, collect,
and bring some back. I remarked again that he was
really a very good and unusual friend.

'Yes/ said Gibson, c we have been friends for years.
If I have a shilling I give him half a bit. Dis morning
he helped (!) me bring water from the river/

Gibson is one of those people who always manage to
get someone to do things for them. He induced Kaiser
William to carry my Gorsican umbrella from Pepe's
Creek, it having been too much damaged en route
from the frontier to be of any further use to him.
I believe that he has since made a present of it to some
other coveting Indian. If he has I shall be very much
annoyed, because I wanted to keep it as a souvenir.

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Saturday. Five Stars

I did not write in the diary last night because
nothing happened during the day, except that we
were all bitten by small detestable flies.

It is blazingly hot again to-day, but thanks to the
plantain leaves which I have laid over the roof of my
tent the heat inside is much less intolerable than it
was.

Rachel and I spent a most amusing morning in the
shop playing the gramophone, and talking to Cook,
Gibson, and some Indians. Cook has one record which
is apparently a great favourite, for it is so worn that it
constantly sticks, and repeats itself over and over
again. It is a sermon on Love by some clergyman or
other. He played it several times this morning, the
black men standing round in rapt attention, interject-
ing remarks such as 'Very true!' and c Dat is so! 5
Gibson turned up the whites of his eyes, and declared
that it was as beautiful as if the Bishop had come to
Five Stars. Then he glanced surreptitiously at me to
see whether I was laughing.

He is having the time of his life, and is in the wildest
spirits at finding himself back in the whirl of civiliza-
tion. He, Frederick, Frederick's family, Solomon, Soo,
and some friends are living near by in a hut that used
to be a store, and from the unending flow of conversa-
tion and song that goes on night and day we gather
that they are enjoying themselves.

I went into the forest this afternoon, and found the
cool and shade very refreshing. It is certainly a great
deed better for living purposes than a clearing, and
we are all beginning to wish that we were back in it.

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. . . No sign of the boat. It is very irritating to be kept
waiting like this when every moment is of such
importance.

Sunday. Five Stars

The boat has arrived, but without an engine, so we
shall have to paddle. However, as the river is so very
swift and swift too in the right direction it won't
make very much difference, and if we start at dawn
we might make even Arakaka by nightfall. The river
has risen about fourteen feet since we were here last,
and I hear that the rapid into which I inadvertently
jumped is almost invisible. We leave to-morrow as
soon as it is light. The boat is being loaded to-night.

Since we have been here we have heard some
interesting news about Juan and his extraordinary
doings and sayings. He certainly is a curious man.
It is fortunate that nobody believes a word he says,
for he has said some startling things particularly
about me.

Gibson is messing about the kitchen singing 'May
Jesu's name be praised*. He was exceedingly dis-
gruntled this morning presumably because Rachel
had given the remains of breakfast to a poor thin dog,
for when the dog turned up again at lunch he called
out sarcastically:

'Miss Leigh-White, your dog is waiting for his
porridge/

After lunch was over conversation drifted to the
Wanna Creek. It is wide, deep, and swift, and the
only means of crossing it is by way of a tacuba thrown
from one bank to the other. Like all other tacubas

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it is round, narrow, and slippery. Twenty feet below
the river swirls by. Gwen said that nothing would
induce her to cross it. She would rather, she said,
have a rope attached to her and be hauled through
the water by Maurice from the farther bank. Here
Gibson broke in:

'To do that, dear lady, 5 he said, 'would entail some
knowledge of swiminology.'

A most unpleasant thing happened this evening.
I was changing for dinner into the white trousers
I had made out of a flour sack, and having put them
on, noticed something bulky in the pocket, so thinking
that it might be a valuable specimen, I turned the
pocket inside out on to the bed and out fell a
hundred thousand ants that swarmed instantly in
every direction all over the mattress, the pillow,
the bedclothes. I shook everything out, including
myself, but when I came to bed to-night at ten-thirty
there were dozens of the revolting creatures still
crawling about. There are disadvantages to life in the
tropics.

Monday night. Secura Landing

We are spending the night with some Indians in
their clearing near the river bank. There are three
or four logics, and the owners of the largest have very
politely moved out and lent it to us. Rachel has put
her bed up at one end of it, and I have put mine up
at the extremely other end. Maurice and Gwen have
elected to sleep in their tents, probably because they
consider it more private. Certainly nothing could well
be less private than life among the Indians, for their

276

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logics have no walls, and are so close to each other
that it is like being in one large room.

This morning at ten we left Five Stars in the small-
est, most uncomfortable boat we have yet experienced.
Nothing but a coreal could have been worse, we
decided, as we lay hour after hour in an entangled
heap in what was grandly known as The Tent a
piece of tarpaulin covering very little more than a
square yard in the centre of the boat, and with side
curtains that rolled up or down according to the
weather. They were down during the incident I am
about to relate, and the rain was driving against the
roof and on to the river with even greater force than
usual.

Silence reigned in the tent. I do not know what the
others were thinking about, but I was making a
calculation as to the number of palm trees I had
planted round my tent on the frontier when the boat
suddenly gave a lurch and a shudder, and water
began to pour in over the side.

We lost no time in rolling up the curtains and
discovered that we had descended a small rapid into
a kiamu or whirlpool, and as the boat was already
very low in the water it straightway began to fill.
However, by the time we found this out it had been
extricated by the captain, and we were continuing
easily upon our way.

Nothing else of a startling nature occurred during
the day, and we landed here shortly before nightfall.

The moon is full to-night, and the moonlight so
brilliant that even inside the tents one can read the
smallest print with ease.

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We had risotto (with plenty of onion in it) for
supper, and an excellent pawpaw which was presented
to us by the owner of the logic. Very soon after supper
we followed the example of the Indians and came to
bed. That was hours ago. The brilliant moonlight
and the novelty of being with the Indians make it
hard to go to sleep. I have been lying here listening
for the thousandth time to the perpetual croaking of
the frogs. How insistently they emphasize the vaulted
darkness of the forest night! In the other logics the
Indians are lying and presumably sleeping in their
mean, uncomfortable hammocks. An old woman is
squatting on the ground by them near the low fire,
talking in a quiet unending monotone. Perhaps she is
telling a story . . . The croaking of the frogs, a tapping
on some tree trunk, a faint stirring down by the water,
the droning monotonous voice of the old woman,
the cool night air on my face the solitude. I am
realizing them all in their presentness, drinking them
in, so that they may always remain with me. The
two tents are gleaming like pale moths against the
bushes ... A splash as a fish leaps in the river . . .
Silence.

Tuesday night. Arakaka

Back in the rest house! We arrived late this evening,
having spent a long, hot, and exceedingly uncomfort-
able day on the river. Lord! I was stiff when we
landed! We all were.

'Has Mr. Juan been seen? 5 we asked as soon as we
landed.

The corporal tightened his face.

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'No indeed, Major,' he said, 'and I do not presume
dat he will return to Arakaka. All de people here has
been humbugged by him, and I hear dat some white
gentlemen in Georgetown is very irate wid he. He
has departed over de Border into Venezuela, and
I do not tink we shall hear ob dat gentleman
again. 5

'How do you know he has gone over into Vene-
zuela? 5

'Because, Major, one buck, Kaiser William, was up
on de border, and saw he beetling across wid a coloured
lady. Kaiser William had words wid he. 5

'What did he say? 3

'He say, "Hallo Kaiser William, I going to start
bush store in Venezuela. You like to come droghe for
me hein? I give you plenty money." But Kaiser
William no want to droghe. 5

'Did he say how he looked? 5

'He say he very light and frolicsome. 5

And that, no doubt, is the last we shall hear of Juan.

After an appreciable time the boat was unloaded,
and the bedding and the chop box followed us up to
the rest house, where we were sitting waiting for them
on the veranda.

The customary bustle ensued while the beds were
identified by their various owners, and were untied,
and erected. Rachel and I have put ours up on the
veranda, but Gwen is going to sleep in the room,
because she says that there are a number of things
that she likes doing by the light of the moon, but that
sledping isn 5 t one of them.

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We stopped for breakfast camp this morning at a
deserted Indian village. It lay ten or fifteen yards
back from the river, and we had to clamber up the
steep slippery bank to get to it. There were half a
dozen logics there, all empty except for a couple of
the long wicker tubes that the Indian women use
for draining the cassava which were tied to the
ceiling, and also some parrot's feathers and a minia-
ture paddle, beautifully carved. Several huge gourds
lay on the ground outside. Everything was just as it
must have been when it was inhabited, and we
wondered why the owners had left it, until we pushed
our way through the encroaching undergrowth beyond
the logics, and came upon a grave. So this was why
the village was deserted! Indians will never remain in
a place where someone has died, for fear of the spirit.

The grave was marked out with stones, and by the
side of it stood ' a rough table on which had been
placed all the worldly possessions of the dead person
a pathetic collection. A line of bush rope had been
tied above the table, and from it hung a few tattered
rags. The whole place was desolate and silent, and
the long grass was beginning to grow up among the
logics. We were glad to leave.

It seems strange to be back in Arakaka, and to find
everything exactly as it was when we were here
before, except that the shower doesn't seem to work
quite as well as it did. All the inhabitants of Arakaka
have been to pay their respects. Someone has given
us some old illustrated society papers. I suppose that
they must have been left here by the Commissioner the
last time he held a court here, teibson is cooking our

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supper for the last time, and after it is done he will go
up the hill to his house, and indulge, no doubt, in an
all-night party to celebrate his return home, and talk
about us and our curious doings and sayings to his
friends and relations. We leave to-morrow morning
appallingly early. And I think that that is all there is
to relate except that Rachel has forgotten to bring her
mosquito net. Tant pis pour elk!

Wednesday afternoon. On the river

The remainder of the night was unforgettable, and
no description can convey what I went through. After
a very short time the mosquitoes became so intoler-
able that I felt impelled to share or at least to offer
to share my net with Rachel. She demurred once or
twice, but finally accepted, so I pulled the head of my
bed to the foot of hers at right angles, and with great
difficulty managed to draw a small amount of net over
both pillows. The result was that although neither
she nor I could get into bed wi&out an immense
struggle, or breathe once we were there, the mos-
quitoes got in without any struggle at all and in
such hordes that when I looked at Rachel this morning
and she looked at me, we were more horrified than
astonished.

We rose before light, and although we were down
at the stelling by seven o'clock the boat did not leave
till fully three-quarters of an hour later.

The entire population of Arakaka was there to see
us off; the corporal and his assistant with their khaki
shorts and hats turned up on one side, a lady friend of
Gibson's who had no fewer than three hats perched on

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her woolly black head, and many others. Altogether
there must have been a couple of dozen people there.

It was sad saying good-bye to Gibson.

'What shall I bring you when I come back? 5 1 called
to him as the boat was shoved off from the stelling
and we started off down the river.

6 A sports cap, and some burn mouth (drink), dear
lady/ he sang out, and that was the last I heard of him,
for the boat swung round a bend, and Arakaka was
blotted from our view.

We stared placidly about us; at the moving banks,
the high woods beyond them at the water. I felt
desperately tired, and rather hostile towards Rachel
because I suspected her of having secured a less
uncomfortable seat than mine. Pieces of driftwood
floated silently down stream, and we gazed dully at
them. The river was narrow and shadowed by the
branches of the trees, so that the vegetation above the
banks was sparse, and we could often see into the dark
spaciousness of the forest beyond. How still it was!
And although no creature stirred or was ever seen,
how inhabited!

I thought of our changed attitude towards it. When
we came up the river it was new and strange and
breath-taking, and all the time there was the perpetual
shock of discovery. Now we were familiar with it, and
although we saw it even more keenly, for one's senses
sharpen in the forest, and looked about us with just as
lively an interest and if possible an added apprecia-
tion, it was from another view-point that of accept-
ance and familiarity.

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'Where are we going to stop for the night?' we
asked, and were told that we were not going to stop
at all, but would travel all night so as to make certain
of catching the Tarpon at Morawhanna. So I expect
that the next twelve hours will be extraordinarily un-
comfortable, for the boat is small, and has on it,
besides our four selves and the baggage, Fraser, the
Boviander captain, a bowman, six black passengers,
Solomon, Soo, and Soo's detestable game cock, which
has crowed persistenly ever since we left Arakaka this
morning.

It is really very pleasant now that the great heat
has gone out of the sun, and the evening light makes
the river lovelier and more spell-bound than ever . . .
Had a look at the illustrated papers, and was struck
anew by their vulgarity. So were the others. These
are the first papers we have seen since we left George-
town.

We were lucky enough to see several animals this
morning, an ant bear nosing about on the bank, a
sloth hanging on to an overhanging branch, a bush
cow, an alligator, and something swimming under
water, which I think must have been a water dog.
It was most unusual to see so many creatures al-
most more than we have seen the whole time in the
forest.

It is so still now that it is difficult to believe that
we really saw them. Yet in a short while, when night
comes on, the forest will wake. The chorus of frogs
will start up, and every shadow will seem to hold a
breathing, watching creature.

Evening is the quietest time on the river.

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Wednesday. Morawhanna

Reached Morawhanna this morning. That un-
speakable game cock crowed all through the night in
spite of being covered up with a piece of tarpaulin, and
in spite too of Maurice's vitriolic abuse. Finally, at
about 3 a.m., he tapped it on the head with his line
stick, and after that it crowed more vigorously than
ever, and as we chugged down the river, and passed
Indian settlements along the banks, it was answered
triumphantly by other cocks.

We had dinner in the dark, because Fraser, who had
fever, poor man, could not see to steer the boat when
the lamp was lit. With some difficulty a tin of sardines
was opened, and because I could not see what I was
eating I ate too much, and spent a long time hunting
for the bottle of iodine. (A few drops in water are
excellent as a restorative.) Soon afterwards we com-
posed ourselves for sleep, and strangely enough slept
very well all but Maurice, who was too angry with
the game cock. It just shows what a little tiredness
and an easy conscience will do. Or perhaps it was
the monotonous throb of the engine. Anyway, we
slept. There were one or two diversions, as, for
instance, when the gramophone fell on to Rachel's
head, and when we were startled into consciousness by
Maurice's muttered but venomous conversation with
the game cock.

Morning came at last, and with it Morawhanna.

We rose, and went ashore to Ho Shoo's Tavern,
which is much as it was. None of us will mind leav-
ing it.

This evening Gwen and I went for a stroll along the

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path which runs by the side of the river. A number of
land crabs scuttled out of the way and popped into
their holes as we approached them. They are very
ridiculous creatures.

We walked to the end of the far stelling, and sat on
the steps leading down to the water. After a little
while a star came out in the pale sky. It was all
exceedingly calm and lovely, and I would have liked
to remain out there until the moon rose had it not
been for a crowd of very malicious mosquitoes which
appeared with the star. So we came in and after a
certain interval had supper (fish).

Thursday. Midday

A lovely brilliant day, without a cloud in the sky.
We have been discussing the new reef. Opinion
amongst the pork-knockers at Arakaka and Five
Stars is unanimous as to its richness. It seems that
for years they have been accustomed to go there
to collect and crush the loose pieces of quartz on
the surface and extracting the gold. I wish that we
could have started working there at once, without
having to go down to Georgetown. The Tarpon has
just been sighted. I can see it through the window.
It has rounded the bend, and is steaming up the
river towards us. It looks enormous.

Thursday evening. Morawhanna

I walked down to the stelling to watch the Tarpon
being unloaded. One of the first things to be brought
ashore was the mail bag. In it, among the packet of

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letters for us, was one for me. I read it through several
times but there was no escape, no getting away from
the fact. I must return to Europe.

So this is the end. I shall never see Gibson again,
or the river, or hear the frogs croaking in the dark-
ness. All gone. . . .

Friday. On board the Tarpon

Evening again. The last one, for to-morrow we land
at Georgetown, and the expedition as far as I am
concerned will be over.

The expedition will be over.' It is hardly conceiv-
able. We have been together for so long, the sole
inhabitants in a world apart, and it has made a
bond between us that years of intercourse in civiliza-
tion would not have formed. Before we came people
assured us that at the end of the expedition none
of us would be on speaking terms, so virulently
would we detest each other. It would be the inevitable
result, they said, of living at such close quarters and
without outside distraction. Well, they were wrong.
Better companions than Maurice, Gwen and Rachel
would be impossible to find, and I could not contem-
plate future expeditions without them.

This morning I went into the manicold forest to
have a last look at it, but it is quite unlike the real
forest in the interior, and gave me no familiar feeling.
In place of the cool green light and vaulted spacious-
ness it is low and damp and tangled, and altogether
rather pestilential, so after a short time I returned to
the village as I had come, by way of the perilous tacuba
over the swamp, and rejoined the others at Ho Shoo's.

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They were preoccupied, and very busy packing
and dispatching the baggage. An unattractive grubby
little black boy called Desmond kept funning in and
out of the room and was rather a nuisance. Nothing
else happened until lunch.

We sailed in the afternoon, and I have been sitting
here on deck ever since. A flock of ibis flew in a long,
line over the river a short while ago. I remember
that the last time I saw them was when we were
approaching Morawhanna at the beginning of the
expedition ... It seems a very long time ago.

We have been through the Mora Pass, through the
Waini Passage. With each mile that we progress the
river becomes wider, and the forest along the distant
banks smaller and less imminent. Soon we shall reach
the open sea.

Morawhanna is gone. Gone too are Koriabo,
Arakaka, Five Stars, our life in the forest. Impercept-
ibly a boundary has been crossed. It is almost as if
we had wakened from a dream, and the sights and
sounds and everything that happened within it are
as remote and for ever intangible as reflections in a
mirror ... A wind is rising.

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