65 Short Stories (212 page)

‘Yes. Is anything the matter?’

‘I’m terrified.’

‘It’s all right. There’s nothing to be afraid of.’

‘The silence is so awful. I wish I hadn’t come.’

She lit a cigarette.

Neil, having at last dozed off, was awakened by the hammering of a woodpecker, and its complacent laugh as it flew from one tree to another seemed to mock the sluggards. A hurried breakfast, and the caravan started. The gibbons swung from branch to branch, gathering in the dawn dew from the leaves, and their strange cry was like the call of a bird. The light had driven away Darya’s fears, and notwithstanding a sleepless night she was alert and gay. They continued to climb. In the afternoon they reached the spot that the guides had told them would be a good camping place, and here Munro decided to build a house. The men set to work. With their long knives they cut palm leaves and saplings and soon had erected a two-roomed but raised on piles from the ground. It was neat and fresh and green. It smelt good.

The Munros, he from old habit, she because she had for years wandered about the world and had a catlike knack of making herself comfortable wherever she went, were at home anywhere. In a day they had arranged everything and settled down. Their routine was invariable. Every morning Neil and Munro started out separately, collecting. The afternoon was devoted to pinning insects in boxes, placing butterflies between sheets of paper and skinning birds. When dusk came they caught moths. Darya busied herself with the but and the servants, sewed and read and smoked innumerable cigarettes. The days passed very pleasantly, monotonous but eventful. Neil was enraptured. He explored the mountain in all directions. One day, to his pride, he found a new species of stick-insect. Munro named it Cuniculina MacAdami. This was fame. Neil (at twenty-two) realized that he had not lived in vain. But another day he only just escaped being bitten by a viper. Owing to its green colour he had not seen it and was only saved from lurching against it by the Dyak hunter who was with him. They killed it and brought it back to camp. Darya shuddered at the sight of it. She had a terror of the wild creatures of the jungle and was almost hysterical. She would never go more than a few yards from the camp for fear of being lost.

‘Has Angus ever told you how he was lost?’ she asked Neil one evening when they were sitting quietly together after dinner.

‘It wasn’t a very pleasant experience,’ he smiled.

‘Tell him, Angus.’

He hesitated a little. It was not a thing he liked to recall.

‘It was some years ago, I’d gone out with my butterfly net and I’d been very lucky. I’d got several rare specimens that I’d been looking for a long time. After a while I thought I was getting hungry so I turned back. I walked for some time and it struck me I’d come a good deal farther than I knew. Suddenly I caught sight of an empty match-box. I’d thrown it away when I started to come back; I’d been walking in a circle and was exactly where I was an hour before. I was not pleased. But I had a look round and set off again. It was fearfully hot and I was simply dripping with sweat. I knew more or less the direction the camp was in and I looked about for traces of my passage to see if I had come that way. I thought I found one or two and went on hopefully. I was frightfully thirsty. I walked on and on, picking my way over snags and trailing plants, and suddenly I knew I was lost I couldn’t have gone so far in the right direction without hitting the camp. I can tell you I was startled. I knew I must keep my head, so I sat down and thought the situation over. I was tortured by thirst. It was long past midday and in three or four hours it would be dark. I didn’t like the idea of spending a night in the jungle at all. The only thing I could think of was to try and find a stream; if I followed its course, it would eventually bring me to a larger stream and sooner or later to the river. But of course it might take a couple of days. I cursed myself for being such a fool, but there was nothing better to do and I began walking. At all events if I found a stream I should be able to get a drink. I couldn’t find a trickle of water anywhere, not the smallest brook that might lead to something like a stream. I began to be alarmed. I saw myself wandering on till at last I fell exhausted. I knew there was a lot of game in the forest and if I came upon a rhino I was done for. The maddening thing was I knew I couldn’t be more than ten miles from my camp. I forced myself to keep my head. The day was waning and in the depths of the jungle it was growing dark already. If I’d brought a gun I could have fired it. In the camp they must have realized I was lost and would be looking for me. The undergrowth was so thick that I couldn’t see six feet into it and presently, I don’t know if it was nerves or not, I had the sensation that some animal was walking stealthily beside me. I stopped and it stopped too. I went on and it went on. I couldn’t see it. I could see no movement in the undergrowth. I didn’t even hear the breaking of a twig or the brushing of a body through leaves, but I knew how silently those beasts could move, and I was positive something was stalking me. My heart beat so violently against my ribs that I thought it would break. I was scared out of my wits. It was only by the exercise of all the self-control I had that I prevented myself from breaking into a run. I knew if I did that I was lost. I should be tripped up before I had gone twenty yards by a tangle root and when I was down it would spring on me. And if I started to run God knew where I should get to. And I had to husband my strength. I felt very like crying. And that intolerable thirst. I’ve never been so frightened in my life. Believe me, if I’d had a revolver I think I’d have blown my brains out. It was so awful I just wanted to finish with it. I was so exhausted I could hardly stagger. If I had an enemy who’d done me a deadly injury I wouldn’t wish him the agony I endured then. Suddenly I heard two shots. My heart stood still. They were looking for me. Then I did lose my head. I ran in the direction of the sound, screaming at the top of my voice. I fell, I picked myself up again. I ran on, I shouted till I thought my lungs would burst, there was another shot, nearer, I shouted again, I heard answering shouts; there was a scramble of men in the undergrowth. In a minute I was surrounded by Dyak hunters. They wrung and kissed my hands. They laughed and cried. I very nearly cried too. I was down and out, but they gave me a drink. We were only three miles from the camp. It was pitch dark when we got back. By God, it was a near thing.’

A convulsive shudder passed through Darya.

‘Believe me, I don’t want to be lost in the jungle again.’

‘What would have happened if you hadn’t been found?’

‘I can tell you. I should have gone mad. If I hadn’t been stung by a snake or attacked by a rhino I should have gone on blindly till I fell exhausted. I should have starved to death. I should have died of thirst. Wild beasts would have eaten my body and ants cleaned my bones.’

Silence fell upon them.

Then it happened, when they had spent nearly a month on Mount Hitam, that Neil, notwithstanding the quinine Munro had made him take regularly, was stricken with fever. It was not a bad attack, but he felt very sorry for himself and was obliged to stay in bed. Darya nursed him. He was ashamed to give her so much trouble, but she would not listen to his protests. She was certainly very capable. He resigned himself to letting her do things for him that one of the Chinese boys could have done just as well. He was touched. She waited on him hand and foot. But when the fever was at its height and she sponged him all over with cold water, though the comfort was indescribable, he was excessively embarrassed. She insisted on washing him night and morning.

‘I wasn’t in the British hospital at Yokohama for six months without learning at least the routine of nursing,’ she said, smiling.

She kissed him on the lips each time after she had finished. It was friendly and sweet of her. He rather liked it, but attached no importance to it; he even went so far, a rare thing for him, as to be facetious on the subject.

Did you always kiss your patients at the hospital?’ he asked her. ‘Don’t you like me to kiss you?’ she smiled.

‘It doesn’t do me any harm.’

‘It may even hasten your recovery,’ she mocked.

One night he dreamt of her. He awoke with a start. He was sweating profusely. The relief was wonderful, and he knew that his temperature had fallen; he was well. He did not care. For what he had dreamt filled him with shame. He was horrified. That he should have such thoughts, even in his sleep, made him feel awful. He must be a monster of depravity. Day was breaking, and he heard Munro getting up in the room next door that he occupied with Darya. She slept late, and he took care not to disturb her. When he passed through Neil’s room, Neil in a low voice called him.

‘Hullo, are you awake?’

‘Yes, I’ve had the crisis. I’m all right now’

‘Good. You’d better stay in bed today. Tomorrow you’ll be as fit as a fiddle.’

‘Send Ah Tan to me when you’ve had your breakfast, will you?’

Right-ho.’

He heard Munro start out. The Chinese boy came and asked him what he wanted. An hour later Darya awoke. She came in to bid him good morning. He could hardly look at her.

‘I’ll just have my breakfast and then I’ll come in and wash you,’ she said. ‘I’m washed. I got Ah Tan to do it.’

‘Why?’

‘I wanted to spare you the trouble.’

‘It isn’t a trouble. I like doing it.’

She came over to the bed and bent down to kiss him, but he turned away his head.

‘Oh, don’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s silly.’

She looked at him for a moment, surprised, and then with a slight shrug of the shoulders left him. A little later she came back to see if there was anything he wanted. He pretended to be asleep. She very gently stroked his cheek. ‘For God’s sake don’t do that,’ he cried.

‘I thought you were sleeping. What’s the matter with you today?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Why are you being horrid to me? Have I done anything to offend you?’

‘No.’

‘Tell me what it is.’

She sat down on the bed and took his hand. He turned his face to the wall. He was so ashamed he could hardly speak.

‘You seem to forget I’m a man. You treat me as if I was a boy of twelve.’

‘Oh?’

He was blushing furiously. He was angry with himself and vexed with her. She really should be more tactful. He plucked nervously at the sheet.

‘I know it means nothing to you and it ought not to mean anything to me. It doesn’t when I’m well and up and about. One can’t help one’s dreams, but they are an indication of what is going on in the subconscious.’

‘Have you been dreaming about me? Well, I don’t think there’s any harm in that.’

He turned his head and looked at her. Her eyes were gleaming, but his were sombre with remorse.

‘You don’t know men,’ he said.

She gave a little burble of laughter. She bent down and threw her arms round his neck. She had nothing on but her sarong and baju.

‘You darling,’ she cried. ‘Tell me, what did you dream?’

He was startled out of his wits. He pushed her violently aside.

‘What are you doing? You’re crazy.’

He jumped half out of bed.

‘Don’t you know that I’m madly in love with you?’ she said.

‘What 
are 
you talking about?’

He sat down on the side of the bed. He was frankly bewildered. She chuckled. ‘Why do you suppose I came up to this horrible place? To be with you, ducky. Don’t you know I’m scared stiff of the jungle? Even in here I’m frightened there’ll be snakes or scorpions or something. I adore you.’

‘You have no right to speak to me like that,’ he said sternly.

‘Oh, don’t be so prim,’ she smiled.

‘Let’s get out of here.’

He walked out on to the veranda and she followed him. He threw himself into a chair. She knelt by his side and tried to take his hands, but he withdrew them.

‘I think you must be mad. I hope to God you don’t mean what you say.’

‘I do. Every word of it,’ she smiled.

It exasperated him that she seemed unconscious of the frightfulness of her confession.

‘Have you forgotten your husband?’

‘Oh, what does he matter?’

‘Darya.’

‘I can’t be bothered about Angus now’

‘I’m afraid you’re a very wicked woman,’ he said slowly, a frown darkening his smooth brow

She giggled.

‘Because I’ve fallen in love with you? Darling, you shouldn’t be so absurdly good-looking.’

‘For God’s sake don’t laugh.’

‘I can’t help it you’re comic-but still adorable. I love your white skin and your shining curly hair. I love you because you’re so prim and Scotch and humourless. I love your strength. I love your youth.’

Her eyes glowed and her breath came quickly. She stooped and kissed his naked feet. He drew them away quickly, with a cry of protest, and in the agitation of his gesture nearly overthrew the rickety chair.