Hamilton reboarded the helicopter. Tracy said: ‘That was quite a hailstorm out there. Arrows and darts, I assume?’
‘Didn’t you see?’
‘I wasn’t too keen on looking. I’m sure those windows are made of toughened glass but I wasn’t going to be the one to put them to the test. Poisoned?’
‘Certainly. But, almost equally certainly, no curare, nothing lethal. They have a less final but equally effective poison that merely stuns. Too much curare affects the flavour of the stew.’
Smith said sourly: ‘You certainly have a’ summary way of dealing with the opposition.’
‘I should have parleyed with them? The brightly coloured beads approach? Why don’t you go and try it?’ Smith said nothing. ‘If you have any futile suggestions to offer, I suggest you either translate them into action or shut up. There’s a limit to the number of niggling remarks a man can take.’
Silver, his face bandaged, intervened pacifically. ‘And now?’
‘A lovely long siesta until dusk. For me, that is. I shall have to ask you to take turns in keeping watch. Not only the village, but as far upstream and downstream as you can see – the Chapate might contemplate launching a canoe attack at some distance from their village although I consider it highly unlikely. If anything happens, let me know. Ramon and Navarro should be back in twenty minutes; don’t bother letting me know.’
Tracy said: ‘You place a great deal of faith in your lieutenants.’
‘Total.’
Smith said: ‘So we keep awake while you sleep. Why?’
‘Recharging my batteries for the night ahead.’
‘And then?’
Hamilton sighed. ‘This helicopter, obviously, will never be airborne again so we have to find some other means of rejoining the hovercraft, which I reckon must be about thirty miles downstream. We can’t go by land. It would take us days to hack our way down there and, anyway, the Chapate would get us before we covered a mile. We need a boat. So we’ll borrow one from the Chapate. There’s a nice, big and very ancient motor launch moored to the bank there. Not their property for a certainty: the original owners were probably eaten long ago. And the engine will be a solid block of rust and quite useless. But we don’t need power to go downstream.’
Tracy said: ‘And how do you propose we—ah -obtain this boat, Mr Hamilton?’
‘I’il get it. After sunset.’ He smiled faintly. ‘That’s why I intend recharging my batteries in advance.’
Smith said: ‘You really do have to be a hero, Hamilton, don’t you?’
‘And you’ll really never learn, will you? No, I don’t have to be a hero. I don’t want to be a hero. You can go instead. You be the hero. Go on. Volunteer. Impress your girl-friend.’
Smith slowly unclenched his fists and turned away. Hamilton sat and appeared to compose himself for slumber, oblivious of the dead Heffner laid now across the aisle from him. The others looked at one another in silence.
It was many hours later, at dusk, when Hamilton said: ‘Everything packed? Guns, ammunition, last night’s overnight bags, food, water, medicines. And Silver, the chopper’s two compasses might come in handy.’
Silver indicated a box by his feet. ‘They’re already in there.’
‘Excellent.’ Hamilton looked around him. ‘Well, that seems to be all. Heigh-ho, I think.’
‘What do you mean, that seems to be all?’ Smith said. He nodded towards the dead Heffner. ‘How about him?’
‘Well, how about him?’
‘You going to leave him here?’
‘That’s up to you.’ Hamilton spoke with an almost massive indifference. He did not have to spell out his meaning. Smith turned and stumbled , down the helicopter steps.
At the downstream end of the island, only Navarro, of all the party, was absent. In the gathering darkness Hamilton again checked all the various packs. He seemed satisfied.
‘There will be a moon,’ he said, ‘but it will be too late to save us. Moonrise is in about two and a half hours. When they attack—there’s no if about it—it must be inside those two and a half hours, which means it could be any time now although I should guess that they’ll wait a bit until it is as dark as possible. Ramon, join Navarro now. If they attack before you get my signal, hold them off as best you can for as long as you can. If my signal comes first, get back here at once. Tracy?’
Tracy said: ‘I can tell you, I haven’t been too happy here for the past hour. No, no alligators. No sign. Not a ripple. No gun?’
‘Guns make noises. Guns get wet.’
Maria shivered and pointed to his big sheath knife. ‘And that does neither?’
‘Sometimes the first blow doesn’t kill. Then there can be a lot of noise. But no heroics. I don’t expect to have to use it. If I do, it means I’ve botched my job.’
Hamilton looked out across the river. The darkness had now so deepened that the shoreline was no more than a dimly seen blur. He checked that the coil of rope, the waterproof torch and the sheath knife were securely attached to his waist, walked noiselessly into the river and then slowly, silently, began to swim.
The water was warm, the current was gentle and around him he could see nothing but the calm dark water. Suddenly, he stopped swimming, trod water and stared ahead. He could see what he imagined to be a tiny ripple in the black smoothness without being able to see what caused it. His right hand came clear of the water, clenched round the haft of his sheath knife. The tiny ripple was still there but even as he strained to watch it, it disappeared. Hamilton replaced the knife in its sheath. He wasn’t the first person to have mistaken a drifting log for a crocodile, a considerably healthier position than the other way round. He resumed his silent swimming.
A minute later he drifted in towards the bank and caught hold of a convenient tree root. He straightened, paused, looked carefully around, listened intently then emerged swiftly and silently from the river and disappeared into the forest.
A hundred yards brought him to the perimeter of the village. There were at least a score of native huts, haphazardly arranged, none of them showing any sign of life. In their approximate centre was the much larger circular hut: light could be seen through the numerous chinks in its walls. Ghostlike, Hamilton moved off to his right and moved round the perimeter of the village until he was directly to the rear of the large hut. Here he waited until he was sure—or as sure as he could possibly be—that he was alone then moved forward to the rear of the hut. He selected a small, lighted chink in the wall and peered through it.
The communal hut was illuminated by some scores of tallow tapers. It was completely unfurnished. Dozens of natives were standing several deep round a cleared space in the middle where an elderly man was using a stick to make a diagram on the sand-covered floor while at the same time explaining something in an unintelligible tongue. The diagram was the outline of the island. Also shown was the left bank of the river on which the village stood. The speaker had drawn lines from the village, from above the village and from below the village, all towards the island. A multi-pronged attack was to be launched on the helicopter and its passengers. The lecturer lifted his stick from time to time and pointed it at various natives: it was apparent that he was allocating canoe crews for their lines of attack.
Hamilton moved away in the direction of the upper river bank, still circling the village perimeter. As he passed the last hut, he stopped. At least twenty canoes, some quite large, were tethered to the bank. Almost at the end of the row, up-river, was the dilapidated, paintflaked motor launch, a little over twenty feet in length. It was deep in the water but floating so to that extent might be deemed riverworthy.
Two Indian warriors, talking quietly, stood guard at the downstream end of the row of canoes. As Hamilton watched, one of them gestured towards the village and walked away. Hamilton moved around to one side of the hut and crouched there: the Indian walked by on the other side.
Another problem had arisen, one that Hamilton could well have done without. Even fifteen minutes ago he could have remained where he had been and the remaining Indian could have come within a few feet without seeing him. Not any more. The sun was gone, moonrise was still some time away, but, unfortunately, the evening clouds which, earlier, had so obligingly offered concealment, had passed away and the southern skies were alive with stars – and in the tropics stars always seem so much bigger and brighter than they do in temperate climes. Visibility had become disconcertingly good.