Gerald Durrell - The Whispering Land

"Gerry? Good morning."

"Good morning. How's Claudius?"

"Well, I think you had better come round," she said with an air of someone trying to break bad news tactfully.

"Why, what's the matter? He's not ill, is he?" I asked, alarmed.

"Oh, no. Not ill," said Marie sepulchrally. "But last night he broke his leash, and by the time we discovered him, he had eaten half Mama's begonias. I've got him locked in the coal cellar, and Mama's upstairs having a headache. I think you had better come round and bring a new leash."

Cursing animals in general and tapirs in particular, I leapt into a taxi and fled round to Marie's, pausing on the way to buy fourteen pots of the finest begonias I could procure. I found Claudius, covered with coal-dust, meditatively chewing a leaf. I reprimanded him, put on his new and stronger leash (strong enough, one would have thought, to hold a dinosaur [32] dinosaur ['dainaso:] – an extinct gigantic reptile ), wrote a note of apology to Mrs. Rodriguez, and left, Marie having promised to get in touch immediately should anything further transpire. The next morning she rang me again.

"Gerry? Good morning." "Good morning. Everything all right?"

"No," said Marie gloomily, "he's done it again. Mother has no begonias left now, and the rest of the garden looks as if a bulldozer's been at work. I think he will have to have a chain, you know."

"Dear God," I groaned, "what with the Aduana and this bloody tapir, [33] what with the Aduana and this bloody tapir… – this emphatic construction is used when enumerating the various causes of one's distress, embarrassment and the like it's enough to drive one to drink. All right, I'll come round and bring a chain."

Once more I arrived at the Rodriguez establishment carrying a chain that could have been used to anchor the Queen Mary, [34] the Queen Mary - one of the biggest Atlantic liners and bearing another herbaceous border in pots. Claudius was enchanted with the chain. He found it tasted very nice if sucked loudly, and better still, it made a loud and tuneful rattling if he jerked his head up and down, a noise that suggested there was a small iron-foundry at work in the Rodriguez garden. I left hurriedly before Mrs. Rodriguez came down to ascertain the cause of the noise. Marie phoned me the following morning.

"Gerry? Good morning."

"Good morning," I said, with a strong premonition that it was going to turn out to be anything but a good morning.

"I'm afraid Mama says you will have to move Claudius," said Marie.

"What's he done now?" I asked in exasperation.

"Well," said Marie, with the faintest tremor of mirth in her voice, "Mama gave a dinner party last night. Just as we had all sat down there was a terrible noise in the garden. Claudius had managed to get his chain loose from the railings, I don't know how. Anyway, before we could do anything sensible he burst in through the French windows, dragging his chain behind him."

"Good God!" I said, startled.. "Yes," said Marie, starting to giggle helplessly, "it was so funny. All the guests leaping about, quite terrified, while Claudius ran round and round the table, clanking his chain like a spectre. Then he got frightened at all the noise and did a… you know… a decoration on the floor."

"Dear Heaven," I groaned, for I knew what Claudius could do in the way of "decoration" when he put his mind to it. [35] to put one's mind to something – to direct one's thoughts towards it, to set one's mind on doing something

"So Mama's dinner was ruined, and she says she is very sorry, but could you move him. She feels that he is not happy in the garden, and that anyway, he's not a very simpatico [36] simpatico (Sp.) - nice, pleasant animal."

'Your mother is, I presume, upstairs having a headache?"

"I think it's a bit more than a headache," said Marie judiciously.

"O.K.," I sighed, "leave it to me. I'll think of something."

This, however, appeared to be the last of a series of bedevilments we had suffered, for suddenly everything seemed to go right. The Customs released my equipment, and, more important still, I suddenly found not only a home for Claudius, but the rest of the animals as well: a small house on the outskirts of Buenos Aires had been lent to us to keep our collection in as a temporary measure.

So, with our problems solved, at least for the moment, we got out the maps and planned our route to the south, to the Patagonian coastline where the fur seals [37] fur seal – a warm-blooded, fish-eating animal, found chiefly in cold regions; fur seal is hunted for its valuable fur. and elephant seals [38] elephant seal – a species of seal, so called on account of the shape of the male's nose which resembles an elephant's trunk, and also on account of its elephantine size (the male measures as much as 5.5 m in length and weighs up to 3.5 tons); now almost entirely destroyed. gambolled in the icy waters.

At first sight everything seemed to be quite straightforward. Marie had managed to obtain leave from her job, and was to come with us to act as interpreter. Our route was planned with the minute detail that only people who have never been to an area indulge in. The equipment was checked and double-checked, and carefully packed. After all the weeks of frustration and boredom in Buenos Aires we began to feel that at last we were on our way. Then, at our last council of war (in the little cafe on the corner), Marie produced an argument that she had obviously been brooding upon for some considerable time.

"I think it would be a good idea if we take someone who knows the roads, Gerry," she said, engulfing what appeared to be a large loaf of bread stuffed with an exceptionally giant ox's tongue, a concoction that passed for a sandwich in Argentina.

"Whatever for?" I asked. "We've got maps, haven't we?"

"Yes, but you have never driven on those Patagonian roads, and they are quite different from anywhere else in the world, you know."

"How, different?" I inquired.

"Worse," said Marie, who did not believe in wasting words.

"I'm inclined to agree," said Jacquie. "We've heard the most awful reports of those roads from everyone."

"Darling, you know as well as I do that you always hear those sort of reports about roads, or mosquitoes, or savage tribes, wherever you go in the world, and they are generally a lot of nonsense."

"Anyway, I think Marie's suggestion is a good one. If we could get someone who knows the roads to drive us down, then you'd know what to expect on the way back."

"But there is no one," I said irritably, "Rafael is in college, Carlos is up in the North, Brian is studying…"

"There is Dicky," said Marie.

I stared at her.

"Who is Dicky?" I asked at length.

"A friend of mine," she said carelessly, "he is a very good driver, he knows Patagonia, and he is a very nice person. He is quite used to going on hunting trips, so he does not mind suffering."

"By 'suffering' do you mean roughing it, or are you insinuating that our company might be offensive to his delicate nature?"

"Oh, stop being facetious," said Jacquie. "Would this chap come with us, Marie?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "He said he would like it very much."

"Good," said Jacquie, "when can he come and see us?"

"Well, I told him to meet us here in about ten minutes' time," said Marie. "I thought Gerry would want to see him in case he did not like him."

I gazed at them all speechlessly.

"I think that's a very good idea, don't you?" asked Jacquie.

"Are you asking my opinion?" I inquired. "I thought you had settled it all between you."

"I am sure you will like Dicky…" began Marie, and at that moment Dicky arrived.