Bond stood and gazed at the distant glittering mountain of bird dung. So this was the kingdom of Doctor No! Bond thought he had never seen a more godforsaken landscape in his life.
He examined the ground between the river and the mountain. It seemed to be the usual grey dead coral broken, where there was a pocket of earth, by low scrub and screwpalm. No doubt a road or a track led down the mountainside to the central lake and the marshes. It looked bad stuff to cross unless there was. Bond noticed that all the vegetation was bent to the westwards. He imagined living the year round with that hot wind constantly scouring the island, the smell of the marsh gas and the guano. No penal colony could have a worse site than this.
Bond looked to the east. There the mangroves in the marshland seemed more hospitable. They marched away in a solid green carpet until they lost their outline in the dancing heat haze on the horizon. Over them a thick froth of birds tossed and settled and tossed again. Their steady scream carried over on the harsh wind.
Quarrel’s voice broke in on Bond’s thoughts. “Dey’s a comin’, cap’n.”
Bond followed Quarrel’s eyes. A big lorry was racing down from the huts, dust streaming from its wheels. Bond followed it
. for ten minutes until it disappeared amongst the mangroves at the head of the river. He listened. The baying of dogs came down on the wind.
Quarrel said, “Dey’ll come down de ribber, cap’n. Dem’ll know we caint move ‘cept up de ribber, assumin’ we ain’t dead. Dey’ll surely come down de ribber to de beach and look for de pieces. Den mos’ likely de boat come wit’ a dinghy an’ take de men and dogs off. Leastways, dat’s what Ah’d do in dere place.”
Honey said, “That’s what they do when they look for me. It’s quite all right. You cut a piece of bamboo and when they get near you go under the water and breathe through the bamboo till they’ve gone by.”
Bond smiled at Quarrel. He said, “Supposing you get the bamboo while I find a good mangrove clump.”
Quarrel nodded dubiously. He started off upstream towards the bamboo thickets. Bond turned back into the mangrove tunnel.
Bond had avoided looking at the girl. She said impatiently, “You needn’t be so careful of looking at me. It’s no good minding those things at a time like this. You said so yourself.”
Bond turned and looked at her. Her tattered shirt came down to the waterline. There was a glimpse of pale wavering limbs below. The beautiful face smiled at him. In the mangroves the broken nose seemed appropriate in its animalness.
Bond looked at her slowly. She understood. He turned and went on downstream and she followed him.
Bond found what he wanted, a crack in the wall of mangrove that seemed to go deeper. He said, “Don’t break a branch.” He bent his head and waded in. The channel went in ten yards. The mud under their feet became deeper and softer. Then there was a solid wall of roots and they could go no farther. The brown water flowed slowly through a wide, quiet, pool. Bond stopped. The girl came close to him. “This is real hide and seek,” she said tremulously.
“Yes, isn’t it.” Bond was thinking of his gun. He was wondering how well it would shoot after a bath in the river-how many dogs and men he could get if they were found. He felt a wave of disquiet. It had been a bad break coming across this girl. In combat, like it or not, a girl is your extra heart. The enemy has two targets against your one.
Bond remembered his thirst. He scooped up some water. It was brackish and tasted of earth. It was all right. He drank some more. The girl put out her hand and stopped him. “Don’t drink too much. Wash your mouth out and spit. You could get fever.”
Bond looked at her quietly. He did as she told him.
Quarrel whistled from somewhere in the main stream. Bond answered and waded out towards him. They came back along the channel. Quarrel splashed the mangrove roots with water where their bodies might have brushed against them. “Kill da smell of us,” he explained briefly. He produced his handful of bamboo lengths and began whittling and cutting them. Bond looked to his gun and the spare ammunition. ; They stood still in the pool so as not to stir up more mud.