Now that wouldn’t apply to little Suzy. She was thoughtless, she snapped, she had a short fuse, she liked to make a fuss and she was clearly aggressive. But undoubtedly she had a gutsy streak; a lot of women would have made a helluva lot more fuss than she did after that quicksand incident, but Suzy had merely looked him in the eye and said, “You and Winston saved my life. Thanks.” It wasn’t much—but the earnest way she said it made it enough. He had the feeling that Suzy was tougher than she looked, and a survivor.
He also had the same feeling about the quiet one—Annie. She was timid, conciliatory, and hardly said a word, but she was the one who had jumped to her feet and briskly dealt with Suzy after the quicksand incident. The skipper sensed that she was practical and reliable in an emergency.
He wasn’t so sure about the plump one in the black jumpsuit—Silvana. She was certainly the slowest mover of the group—she’d seemed languid and disengaged all day, even when she’d taken her nose out of that book. He reckoned that Silvana was going to be more of a hindrance than a help.
Once in the jungle, the little party no longer had the faint light of the stars and moon to light the way, and it was a hard job to concentrate on their footing. As they panted along the narrow track, Suzy asked wearily, “Can’t we dump some of the stuff on this stretcher?”
“Sure,” said the skipper. “What do you want to dump? Think carefully, because your life might depend on your choice.”
“The canvas awning is the heaviest thing,” Suzy said.
“If we can’t get a boat, we’ll have to make a raft. We’ll need that canvas for the underside, to hold the thing together—for insurance. You wouldn’t want to be at sea on a raft that’s coming to pieces under you.”
Dragging their feet, knowing that anyone who dropped out would be left in the jungle, the women struggled through the night; they fell into a sort of mental hibernation, a weary, stoic apathy, a suspension of awareness until they could bear to think again. This was the only way they could endure the sticky heat, the arm-aching weight of the stretcher and the onward shuffling of their exhausted legs, which trembled with the strain. Hoping to hasten the progress, the skipper decided to carry the back end of the stretcher and took over from Suzy, who was the smallest of the group. He gave her the flashlight and the machete.
Suzy played the flashlight over the two-foot-long, wickedly sharp blade. “I don’t know how to use this thing.”
“You will if you have to,” the skipper said.
Suzy whimpered, “I’m frightened of snakes.”
“And they’re frightened of you. Even the most deadly snake will get out of your way if it hears you coming—except for the king cobra, and there ain’t any of them in this part of the world.” He added, “Snakes only attack if you alarm them, or corner them or tread on them—just like human beings.”
The other women took turns carrying the front of the stretcher, because the track was too narrow to allow more than one person at a time. Suzy moved slowly ahead, picking out the track with the light. She moved with care, for she didn’t want to take another dead end, as Carey had done. She knew that if she made a mistake, the flashlight would be taken away from her and she’d have to go back to carrying that damn stretcher.
Suddenly Suzy gave a shriek. The faint line of light that preceded her had disappeared. The rest of the party stopped abruptly.
Nobody moved. They tried not to breathe. They heard the by-now familiar sound of Suzy sniveling.
The skipper whispered, “What’s up?”
From ahead, Suzy snuffled, “There’s something big in the way. I walked smack into it and fell down. I dropped the light.”
The skipper put down the stretcher and picked up his rifle; he moved to the front of the line, feeling before him with his toes before taking each step. His foot prodded the soft bundle that was Suzy. He grunted, “Get up, girl, and look for that light.”
He shifted his rifle to his left hand, squatted on his haunches and ran his fingers through the long grass to his right, hoping nothing would bite his hand.
He saw a faint glow. The flashlight hadn’t gone out, it had rolled under an enormous dead tree that had crashed across the track, creating a barrier before them. He retrieved the light and played it over the huge tree trunk, which was about five feet high and very thick.
“We’ll have to climb over her,” he said. “I’ll go over first. Carey, give Suzy a leg up, then the rest of you follow. Before you start climbing, unload the stretcher and throw the stuff over to Suzy. Take your life jackets off and throw ’em over first; it’ll be easier to climb that thing without ’em.”
“Can’t we walk round it?” Suzy asked.
“No. We’ve no idea how long it is and it’s not possible to move more than six inches into the jungle on either side of this track.”
Carey held the flashlight as he clambered up the deadwood; it flaked beneath his foothold, and he fell back to the ground. He said, “Kneel down, Carey. I’ll have to get on your back.”
Gingerly, Carey knelt down in the rotting vegetation of the path; ants immediately ran over her hands and ankles. She felt a jolt when the skipper’s foot used her spine as a springboard, but he was quickly on top of the tree trunk and sitting astride it. Carey frantically brushed the insects from her hands.
After the man’s weight, it wasn’t too bad having Suzy stand on her back as the skipper hauled her up onto the tree and helped her to slither down the other side.
Annie wasn’t much heavier, but when Silvana stood on her back Carey gasped, “I can’t stand any more.” Her elbows gave way and both women collapsed onto the track. Carey hissed, “You’re not supposed to stand on me! You’re supposed to put one foot on me, to help you jump up on the tree.” As she said it, Carey could hardly believe she was using that tone of voice to the wife of Ed’s boss.
“Shut up!” the skipper growled, and groped down for Silvana’s hand.
It took several attempts, but eventually Silvana lay on her stomach on top of the tree trunk with her plump legs dangling on one side and her arms hanging over the other. The skipper helped her into a sitting position, forcing the path they were about to follow. “Now jump, Silvana,” he urged.
“I can’t! I can’t!”
So he pushed her off, then turned back to Carey. “You’d better hand the equipment up, then jump up next. The last one over should be the lighter.”
Patty knelt down in the filth; with a nimble step on her back, Carey jumped up. She sat astride the tree trunk, facing the skipper, then they both leaned down to Patty and hauled her up onto the tree like a sack of potatoes.
On the other side of the dead tree, the skipper encouraged his little party as again they donned their life jackets. “We ought to hit the coast soon, then we’ll walk by the shore route. That bloody tree lost us fifteen minutes, so try to move faster.”
Half an hour later Suzy, still in the lead, hissed, “Stop!” She turned to the skipper. “The track’s disappeared, and I can hear water.”
He took the flashlight from her and cautiously moved forward.
“It’s only a stream, and there’s stepping stones. There’s a bit of a current running, so I’ll go over first to check it. I’ll shine the light back, so Patty can see where she’s going.” He had noticed that Patty was the only woman who wasn’t dragging her body, completely exhausted.
The stepping stones were slippery, and some were a few inches underwater, but he and Patty managed to get to the other side.
The skipper said, “I’ll go back and get the others. You hold the light. Then we’ll both go back for the gear.”
Suzy called anxiously, “I can’t swim.”
“You won’t need to,” he reassured her. “And remember, you’re wearing a life jacket.” He returned to where the women waited, then he firmly grasped Suzy’s hand and coaxed her across the stepping stones in the faint light of the flashlight. Patty had to concentrate hard to direct the light on the next stone to be stepped on.
r /> When it was Silvana’s turn to take the skipper’s outstretched hand and jump, she missed the first stone, waved her free hand wildly, clutched the skipper’s fingers and pulled them both into the turgid waters of the stream.
As they waded toward the opposite bank, the skipper said in disgust, “Strewth, it’s only a couple of feet deep! Would have been easier and safer to wade across her, instead of hopping on them slippery stones.”
He and Patty waded back for the bundles of equipment. Afterward, they rested, exhausted, while the other women reassembled the stretcher. Patty thought, I sure wish he hadn’t poured out Suzy’s vodka.
About twenty minutes later they reached another stretch of water, wider than the previous stream. The skipper said, “There are rivers and streams all along the coastline, they drain down from the mountains.”
This time there were no stepping stones, and the water was deeper. The skipper tied a length of rattan around his waist and fastened the other end around Patty’s middle; he told Suzy to shine the light ahead.
“How do we know it’s not out of your depth?” Patty asked, watching the circle of light dance on the swirling, sludge-brown water.
“We’re on a much-traveled highway. This is the local Fifth Avenue,” he said. “If it was too deep, they’d have built a bridge across it.”
Wading waist-deep, they seemed to be walking on an even surface of grit and sand. Then, abruptly, Patty’s foot stepped on nothing. She lost her balance and fell forward into the muddy water. She immediately started to swim, but was tugged back by the rope around her waist.
The skipper cried, “Don’t swim! Stand up, it’s okay. The riverbed dropped suddenly, I nearly went over myself.”
Patty found that she could stand, although the water was up to her armpits and her soggy, sucking sneakers did little to protect her feet from the knobbly stones that now formed the riverbed.
Exhausted, Patty scrabbled up onto the bank. She squatted on the ground and held the flashlight as the skipper waded back to the other women. As he carried Suzy over, piggyback, Patty thought crossly, Some people certainly have the knack of getting the best deal. First she gets to hold the light, then she gets carried across the river; it sure pays to be small and look helpless.
When the other women had forded the river, Carey, who was easily the tallest, helped the skipper carry the equipment over; her hands, which had been sore from fighting the shark, were now raw and bleeding. All equipment was transported on their heads, except for the garbage pail, which was too big and unwieldy, so they each took a handle to carry it across. Wearily, they picked themselves up and continued on along the track.
Suzy stopped again. “Listen. The sea!”
As they listened to the distant roar of the surf, the tired little party cheered up; they straightened their tortured backs and ignored their blistered hands. At least they’d soon be out of this putrid, steaming black nightmare and back in the moonlight. Their steps quickened, their blistered feet in the over-large, squeaking wet sneakers lifted higher as they moved toward that beguiling sound. Now they could see the stars overhead, beyond the black canopy of the forest.
The skipper ordered ten minutes’ rest. He unpacked the stretcher and cleared an area free of leaves. He unfolded the canvas and spread it on the ground, to protect them from insects. The women collapsed on it, thankful that they hadn’t ditched it.
A moment later Carey yelled and jumped to her feet. “Aaah! Slimy things on my leg!” She rolled up her pale blue pants and screamed again as the skipper shone the light on her legs. About fifteen black, two-inch-long, sluglike creatures were clinging to her skin.
“Leeches,” he said. “Must have picked them up when we was fording the river.”
Carey panicked. She couldn’t get away from her own legs, and she couldn’t bear to touch those foul things. She jumped up and down, screaming.
“Don’t touch them,” said the skipper. “Don’t try to brush them off, because their teeth will stay in your skin and infect it.”
By now the other women had felt their legs; leeches clung to all of them. They all jumped off the canvas as if it were red hot.
“Stop that noise,” growled the skipper. “They don’t hurt. You’ve only just noticed them. Anyone got a cigarette?”
Carey was shaking with loathing, as she rummaged in her shoulder bag for cigarettes; she was trembling too much to light one, so the skipper took the pack from her. He lit a cigarette and knelt down in front of her. Holding the flashlight in one hand and the cigarette in the other, he gently touched each glistening black creature with the lighted cigarette end, whereupon it dropped off.
After the last leech had fallen from Suzy’s inner thigh, the women slowly calmed down.
“Ain’t any of you seen The African Queen?” the skipper grumbled, “Katharine Hepburn didn’t make a fuss like you lot. Hopping about like bloody grasshoppers! I don’t know where you get the strength.”
He looked at their dirty, frightened faces. “You been doing fine up to now. Take five more minutes, then we must get going again. It’s just past two, and we’ve got another ten miles to cover before dawn—six o’clock. If they’re going to come looking for us, that’s when it will be.”
Five minutes later he called, “On your feet. Time to rest after sunrise.”
Annie and Suzy, who had fallen asleep, were shaken awake. Wearily, they plodded on, with fingers that were almost too stiff to grasp the stretcher. With the skipper now in the lead, they moved, one behind the other, through thigh-high grass toward the sound of the sea, until they found themselves standing at the top of the steep incline, about forty feet above the ivory-pale line of the beach below.
They slipped and slid down the slope to the beach. On the descent, the load on the stretcher became dislodged, so the skipper picked it up and repacked it.
They stumbled off again, heading south along the shoreline.
As they plodded on, their spirits lifted. In spite of their aching arms and legs, their clothes were almost dry and they were making much faster progress than before. A slight breeze blew off the sea, smelling of salt and seaweed, refreshing on their faces and cleansing their nostrils of the rotting stench of the jungle.
Occasionally someone stumbled over a stone. Once Annie slipped on seaweed and the stretcher fell in the sand, but for the next two hours the little party made good progress as it trudged around headlands and across long stretches of beach, under the starlight and the moon, always to the soothing rhythm of the sea.
At about four in the morning, they crossed a beach and found themselves facing a steep headland, which fell straight into the sea. Looking at it, the skipper reckoned that they’d either have to retrace their steps or swim around it. However, when he waded into the sea, he found that he was able to move around the point in waist-level water, although the rocks beneath his feet were slippery.
Once again, the stretcher was unloaded and the contents distributed among the women. Suzy asked exasperatedly, “Why do we have to keep packing and unpacking this goddamn stretcher all the time?”
Patty thought, What nerve, she isn’t even carrying it.
“It’s the easiest way to carry a lot of stuff,” the skipper explained. “If we don’t unpack it, we risk wetting the equipment. We couldn’t have burnt off them leeches if Carey’s cigarettes had been wet.” One slimy rock underfoot could make the stretcher bearers slip, and then the whole load would be soaked. He said, “I don’t like it any more than you do. Stay behind if you want to. I ain’t going to argue with you. You can argue with them terrorists.”
Grumbling and tearful, Suzy waded into the water, and the little party started to circumnavigate the cliff. Halfway around, Suzy yelled and dropped the flashlight and the mosquito-net bag she was carrying. She hopped around, clutching her foot.
Exasperated, the skipper said, “Give me your bundle, Annie, and get that flashlight. Suzy probably stepped on a sea urchin, and if she keeps hopping around, she’ll step on some m
ore.”
Annie groped in the water for the flashlight. She could see the beam of light, so, although she had to duck her head underwater, the flashlight wasn’t difficult to retrieve. She shone it where Suzy was standing. “I can see a lot of brown balls as big as fists down here. They’re covered with spikes.”
“Sea urchins, like I said. I’ll have a look at her foot later. If a spike’s gone into her foot, she’ll have a septic wound. Right now, Annie, you keep hold of that flashlight and find us a path that ain’t covered in sea urchins. Suzy can go to the rear.”
There was an air of smugness among the others as Suzy, in disgrace, splashed to the rear of the line. Slowly, they all waded after Annie, then plodded along yet another blackened beach.
As the sky lightened, Annie anxiously asked, “Are we nearly there?”
“Sure,” the skipper reassured them, as they trudged along. In fact, he had no idea where they were; he wouldn’t be able to get his bearings until it was light enough to see properly. But there was no point in disheartening them, it would only slow them down.
The sky brightened, until it was a stripe of pale gray above a strip of dark gray. Quite suddenly, the jungle noises ceased; the only sound was the soft swish of the feathery palm tops, moving slightly in the breeze blowing off the sea.
“Okay. Take five minutes’ rest. This is our last breather,” the skipper said. “Spread the canvas, or you’ll get bitten by sand flies.”
“I’m so thirsty,” Suzy grumbled.
“You ain’t the only one. But we’ll soon be at that waterfall, then you can drink all you want.” Maybe he had been wrong about Suzy. Maybe she was a complainer—always whingeing. None of the other women were making a fuss, but maybe the poor creatures didn’t have the strength to do so, they were all being sensible and saving their strength.