I put out my hand and when I spoke, the voice seemed to belong to someone else. "Mallary - Neil Mallory."
"You already told me that - remember?" He grinned. "My name's Hannah - Sam Hannah. Anything worth salvaging in there besides the mail?"
As I discovered later, he was forty-five years of age at that time, but he could have been older or younger if judged on appearance alone for he had one of those curiously ageless faces, tanned to almost the same colour as hisleather coat
He had the rather hard, self-possessed, competent look of a man who had been places and done things, survived against odds on occasions and yet, even from the first, there seemed a flaw in him. He made too perfect a picture standing there in his flying kit, gun on hip, like some R.F.C. pilot waiting to take off on a dawn patrol across the trenches, yet more like a man playing the part than the actuality. And the eyes were wrong - a sort of pale, washed blue that never gave anything away.
I told him about the mining machinery and he climbed in-side the Vega to look for himself. He reappeared after a while holding a canvas grip.
"This yours?" I nodded and he threw it down. "Those crates are out of the question. Too heavy for the Hayley anyway. Any-thing else you want?"
I shook my head and then remembered. "Oh yes, there's a revolver in the map compartment"
He found it with no difficulty and pushed it across, together with a box of cartridges, a Webley.38 which I shoved away in one of the pockets of my flying jacket.
"Then if you're ready, we'll get out of here." He picked up the three mail sacks with no visible effort. "The Indians in these parts are Jicaros. There were around five thousand of them till last year when some doctor acting for one of the land companies infected them with small pox instead of vaccinating them against it. The survivors have developed the unfortunate habit of skinning alive any white man they can lay hands on."
But such tales had long lost the power to move me for they were commonplace along the Amazon at a time when most settlers or prospectors regarded the Indians as something other than human. Vermin to be ruthlessly stamped out and any means were looked upon as fair.
I stumbled along behind Hannah who kept up a running conversation, cursing freely as great clouds of grasshoppers and insects of various kinds rose in clouds as we disturbed them.
"What a bloody country. The last place God made. As far as I'm concerned, the Jicaros can have it and welcome."
"Then why stay?" I asked him.
We had reached the Haley by then and he heaved the mail bags inside and turned, a curious glitter in his eyes. '"Not from choice, boy, I can tell you that"
He gave me a push up into the cabin. It wasn't as large as the Vega. Seats for four passengers and a freight compartment behind, but everything was in apple-pie order and not just be-cause she wasn't all that old. Ibis was a plane that enjoyed regular, loving care. Something I found faintly surprising because it didn't seem to fit with Hannah.
I strapped myself in beside him and he closed the door. "A hundred and eighty this baby does at full stretch. You'll be wallowing in a hot bath before you know it." He grinned. "All right, tepid, if I know my Manaus plumbing."
Suddenly I was very tired. It was marvellous just to sit there, strapped comfortably into my seat and let someone else do the work and as I've said, he was good. Really good. There wasn't going to be more than a few feet in it as far as those trees were concerned at the far end of thecampo and yet I hadn't a qualm as he turned the Hayley into the wind and opened the throttle.
He kept her going straight into that green wall, refusing to sacrifice power for height, waiting until the last possible moment, pulling the stick back into his stomach and lifting us up over the tops of the trees with ten feet to spare.
He laughed out loud and slapped the bulkhead with one hand. "You know what's the most important thing in life, Mallory? Luck - and I've got a bucket full of the stuff. I'm going to live to be a hundred and one."
"Good luck to you," I said.
Strange, but he was like a man with drink taken. Not drunk, but unable to stop talking. For the life of me, I can't remem-ber what he said, for gradually my eyes closed and his voice dwindled until it was one with the engine itself and then, that too faded and there was only the quiet darkness.
TWO
Maria of the Angels
I had hoped to be on my way in a matter of hours, certainly no later than the following day for in spite of the fact that Manaus was passing through hard times, there was usually a boat of some description or another leaving for the coast most days.
Things started to go wrong from the beginning. To start with, there was the police in the person of thecomandante himself who insisted on giving me a personal examination regarding the crash, noting my every word in his own hand which took up a remarkable amount of time.
After signing my statement I had to wait outside his office while he got Hannah's version of the affair. They seemed to be old and close friends from the laughter echoing faintly through the closed door and when they finally emerged, Hannah had an arm round thecomandante's shoulder.
"Ah, Senhor Mallory." Thecomandante nodded graciously. "I have spoken to Captain Hannah on this matter and am happy to say that he confirms your story in every detail. You are free, to go."
Which was nice of him.He went back into his office and Hannah said, "That's all right, then." He frowned as if con-cerned and put a hand on my shoulder. "I've got things to do, but you look like the dead walking. Grab a cab downstairs and get the driver to take you to the Palace Hotel. Ask for Senhor Juca. Tell him I sent you. Five or six hours' sleep and you'll be fine. I'll catch up with you this evening. We'll have some-thing to eat. Hit the high spots together."
"In Manaus?" I said.
They still have their fair share of sin if you know where to look.' He grinned crookedly. 'I'll see you later.'
He returned to thecomandante's office, opening the door without knocking and I went downstairs and out through the cracked marble pillars at the entrance.
I didn't go to the hotel straight away. Instead, I took one of the horse-drawn cabs that waited at the bottom of the steps and gave the driver the address of the local agent of the mining company for whom I'd contracted to deliver the Vega to Belem.
In its day during the great rubber boom at the end of the nineteeth century, Manaus had been the original hell-hole, millionaires walking the streets ten-a-penny, baroque palaces, an opera house to rival Paris itself. No sin too great, no wicked-ness too evil. Sodom and Gomorrah rolled into one and set down on the banks of the Negro, a thousand miles up the Amazon.
I had never cared much for the place. There was a sugges-tion of corruption, a kind of general decay. A feeling that the jungle was gradually creeping back in and that none of us had any right to be there.
I felt restless and ill-at-ease, reaction to stress, I suppose, and wanted nothing so much as to be on my way, looking back on this place over the sternrail of a riverboat for the last time.
I found the agent in the office of a substantial warehouse on the waterfront. He was tall, cadaverous, with the haunted eyes of a man who knows he has not got long to live and he coughed repeatedly into a large, soiled handkerchief which was already stained with blood.
He gave thanks to Our Lady for my deliverance to the extent of crossing himself and in the same breath pointed out that under the terms of my contract, I only got paid on safe delivery of the Vega to Belem. Which was exactly what I had expected and I left him in a state of near collapse across hisdesk doing his level best to bring up what was left of his lungs and went outside.
My cab still waited for me, the driver dozing in the heat of the day, his straw sombrero tilted over his eyes. I walked across to the edge of the wharf to see what was going on in the basin which wasn't much, but there was a stern-wheeler up at the next wharf loading green bananas.
I found the captain in a canvas chair under an awning on the bridge and he surfaced for as long as it took to tell me he was leaving at nine the following morning for Belem and that the trip would take sixdays. If I didn't fancy a hammock on deck with his more impoverished customers, I could have the spare bunk in the mate's cabin with all found for a hundredcruzeiros. I assured him I would be there on time and he closed his eyes with complete indifference and returned to more important matters.
I had just over a thousandcruzeiros in my wallet, around a hundred and fifty pounds sterling at that time which meant that even allowing for the trip down-river and incidental ex-penses, I would have ample in hand to buy myself a passage to England from Belem on some cargo boat or other.
I was going home. After two and a half years of the worst that South America could offer, I was on my way and it felt marvellous. Definitely one of life's great moments and all tiredness left me as I turned and hurried back to the cab.
I had expected the worst of the hotel but the Palace was a pleasant surprise. Certainly it had seen better days, but it had a kind of baroque dignity to it, a faded charm that was very appealing, and Hannah's name had a magic effect on the Senhor Juca he had mentioned, an old, white-haired man in an alpaca jacket who sat behind the desk reading a newspaper.
He took me upstairs personally and ushered me into a room with its own little ironwork terrace overlooking the river. The whole place was a superb example of late Victoriana, caught for all time like a fly in amber from the brass bed to the heavy, mahogany furniture.
An Indian woman in a black bombazine dress appeared with clean sheets and the old man showed me, with some pride, the bathroom next door of which I could have sole use, although regrettably it would be necessary to ring for hot water. I thanked him for his courtesy, but he waved his hands deprecatingly and assured me, with some eloquence, that nothing was too much trouble for a friend of Captain Hannah's.
I thought about that as I undressed. Whatever else you could say about him, Hannah obviously enjoyed considerable standing in Manaus which was interesting, considering he was a foreigner.
I needed that bath badly, but suddenly, sitting there on the edge of the bed after getting my boots off, I was overwhelmed with tiredness. I climbed between die sheets and was almost instantly asleep.
I surfaced to the mosquito net billowing above me like a pale, white flower in the breeze from the open window and beyond, a face floated disembodied in the diffused yellow glow of an oil lamp. Old Juca blinked sad, moist eyes. "Captain Hannah was here earlier, senhor. He asked me to wake you at nine o'clock."
It took its own time in getting through to me. "Nine o'clock?"
"He asks you to meet him, senhor, atThe Little Boat. He wishes you to dine with him. I have a cab waiting to take you there, senhor. Everything is arranged."
"That's nice of him," I said, but any iron in my voice was obviously lost on him.
"Your bath is waiting, senhor. Hot water is provided." He put the lamp down carefully on the table, the door dosed with a gentle sigh behind him, the mosquito net fluttered in the eddy like some great moth, then settled again.
Hannah certainly took a lot for granted. I got up, feeling vaguely irritated at the way things were being managed for me and padded across to the open window. Quite suddenly, my whole mood changed for it was pleasantly cool after the heat of the day, the breeze perfumed with flowers. Lights glowed down there on the river and music echoed faintly, the fredo from the sound of it, pulsating through the night, filling me with a vague, irrational excitement.
When I turned back to the room I made another discovery. My canvas grip had been unpacked and my old linen suit had been washed and pressed and hung neatly from the back of a chair waiting for me. There was really nothing I could do, the pressures were too great, so I gave in gracefully, found a towel and went along the corridor to have my bath.
Although the main rainy season was over, rainfall always tends to be heavy in the upper Amazon basin area and sudden, violent downpours are common, especially at night.
I left the hotel to just such a rush of rain and hurried down the steps to the cab which was waiting for me, escorted by Juca who insisted on holding an ancient black umbrella over my head. The driver had raised the leather hood which kept out most of the rain if not all and drove away at once.
The streets were deserted, washed clean of people by the rain and from the moment we left the hotel until we reached ouf destination, I don't think we saw more than half a dozen people, particularly when we moved through the back streets towards the river.
We emerged on the waterfront at a place where there were a considerable number of houseboats of various kinds for a great many people actually lived on the river this way. We finally came to a halt at the end of a long pier.
"This way, senhor."
The cabby insisted on placing his old oilskin coat about my shoulders and escorted me to the end of the pier where a lantern hung from a pole above a rack festooned with fishing nets.
