River Of Death

Hamilton gazed down in bitterness at the lifeless Kellner. Not for the Horena the use of timbo, the poisonous bark of a forest vine which merely stunned: the dart which took Kellner had been tipped with curare.

Hamilton said: 'If it weren't for Kellner we'd all be dead. And now Kellner is dead.' Without another word he jumped into the river. The only danger here was the speed of the water: neither alligators nor piranha ever inhabit rapids.

At first he was swept downstream and had to be hauled back. On the second attempt he succeeded in reaching the bank. He stood there some time, regaining his breath — the buffeting had been severe — then undid the rope around his waist and secured it to the bole of a tree. Another rope was thrown across to him. This he passed round a branch and threw back to the hovercraft where, in turn, it was passed round a fan bracket and thrown back to Hamilton, forming, in effect, an endless pulley.

The first item of equipment — Hamilton's own rucksack — was ferried across, well clear of the water, as was all the rest of the equipment. The members of the party had to make it the wet way.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sweat-soaked and stumbling, mostly from near exhaustion, the heavily laden party of nine made their painfully slow way through the afternoon gloom of the rainforest. Even at high noon there was never more than half-light in its depths. The crowns of the great liana-festooned trees stretched out and intertwined a hundred feet or more above the ground, effectively blocking out the sunlight. Progress was not slow because they had to hack their way with machetes through the dense undergrowth, because of dense undergrowth there was none. For plants to grow at ground-level, sunshine is essential. Jungle, in the true African sense of the term, did not exist. The progress was slow primarily because there was as much swampland as there was firm ground and quicksands were an ever-present peril. A man could step confidently on to what appeared to be an inviting stretch of greensward and on his second step find himself shoulder deep in a swamp. For safe locomotion in.the forest, a probe, in the form of a hacked-off and trimmed branch, was essential. For every mile covered as the crow flew, it was not uncommon to have to traverse five miles. That, and the time it took to locate patches of firm ground, made for time-consuming, frustrating and exhausting travel.

Smith, in particular, was making heavy weather of it. His clothes were so saturated with sweat that he might well have just been dragged from the river. His legs had gone rubbery and he was gasping for breath.

Smith said: 'What the hell are you trying to prove, Hamilton? How tough you are and how out of condition we city dwellers are? God's sake, man, a break. An hour wouldn't kill us, would it?'

'No. But the Horena might.'

'But you said their territory was on the right bank.'

'That's what I believe. But don't forget: we killed six of their men. Great lads for revenge, the Horena. I wouldn't put it past them to have crossed the river and be following us. There could be a hundred of them within a hundred yards of here, just waiting to get within blowpipe range, and we wouldn't know a thing about it until too late.'

Smith, it appeared, was possessed of reserves of strength and endurance of which he had been unaware. He hurried on.

Towards evening, they reached a small and largely swampy clearing. Most of the party were now shambling, not walking.

'Enough,' Hamilton said. 'We'll make camp.'

With the approach of dusk the forest appeared to come alive. All around them was sound. Mainly, it carme from birds — parrots, macaws, parakeets. But there was animal life too. Monkeys screeched, bull-frogs barked and now and again the deeply muffled roar of a jaguar came at them from the depths of the forest.

Everywhere there were creepers, vines, parasitic orchids and there, in the clearing, exotic flowers of almost every conceivable colour. The air was damp and fetid, a miasmic smell all-prevalent, the heat overpowering and leaden and enervating, the floor underfoot almost an unbroken expanse of thick, clinging, evil-smelling mud.

Everyone, even Hamilton, sank gratefully to what few patches of dry ground they could find. Over the river, not much higher than the tree-tops, several birds, with huge wing-spreads, seemed suspended against the sky, for their wings were motionless. They looked evil, sinister.

Maria said: 'What are those horrible-looking creatures?'

'Urubus,' Hamilton said. 'Amazonian vultures. They seem to be looking for something.'

Maria shuddered. Everybody gazed unhappily at the vultures.

'A poor choice, I suppose,' Hamilton said. 'The cooking-pots, head-hunters or-the vultures. And speaking of cooking-pots, some fresh meat might help. Curassow — a kind of wild turkey - armadillo, wild boar, all very tasty. Navarro?'

Ramon said: 'I’il come too.'

'You stay, Ramon. A little more thoughtfumess, please. Someone has to look after these poor souls.'