Eva Ibbotson - Journey to the River Sea

When they weren’t working on the boat, Finn took her into the forest. He showed her which nuts to pick and which to avoid, how to get fruit down from the high branches and how to walk quietly, picking up her feet higher than usual, not thumping and blundering about. Once he brought down a paca with his bow and arrow.

‘They’re good to eat,’ he said. ‘You have to be able to kill for food if necessary,’ — and he waited for Maia to make a fuss, but though she turned pale when the little rodent twitched on his arrow, she said nothing. He showed her how to make body paint from urucu berries, and how to fetch water from the river without getting scum into the kettle — and the more she learnt the more she wanted to learn, and the more she dreaded the day of his departure.

But he wasn’t gone yet. Not quite. She could still come into the lagoon and hear him whistling as he did his chores. And she would have been very surprised if she had known that Finn too was fearful of the parting and of making the journey by himself.

Then just two weeks after the Bishop had left Manaus, the liner came out of the maze of waterways at the head of the Amazon delta and headed out for the open sea. Even if Clovis had been found out there would be no chance now of sending him back before they reached England.

‘There’s no point in waiting any longer,’ said Finn. ‘The boat is as ready as she’ll ever be. If we clear the reeds away, she’ll just get through.’

We , thought Maia bitterly. Obviously he expected her to help him clear the passage out of the lagoon, and then he’d wave goodbye and she’d never see him again.

‘If it had been the other way round, I’d have taken you,’ she said.

‘I suppose you think that makes it easier for me,’ said Finn angrily.

‘I wasn’t trying to make it easier for you,’ said Maia, and stalked away.

But Finn did not go immediately. It was as though the Arabella wasn’t so sure if she wanted to go adventuring after her quiet time in the lagoon. First they found a small leak through the hull under the floorboards, and then Finn dropped the washer for the valve which regulated the amount of steam to go into the boiler. He didn’t just drop it, he dropped it into the deepest part of the lake, and though he and Maia dived for it again and again they couldn’t find it. Furo went into Manaus to get a replacement but before they could put it in, another week had passed.

It was harder for Miss Minton to get away to the lagoon. When she did manage it, she bullied Finn about Caesar’s Gallic Wars .

‘Those legions are never going to get across the bridge at this rate,’ she said, looking at the book, still open at page fifty-seven. But when she had finished lecturing Finn about the importance of Latin to someone who wanted to collect plants, she lent a hand with the chores, scrubbing the floor of the hut to whiteness.

‘Having been a housemaid always comes in useful,’ she said.

One afternoon when the children were on their own, they saw that the macaws on the tree that guarded the entrance had flown up, squawking.

But it was not Furo come to fetch Maia. It was Colonel da Silva with his second in command, come to take charge of Bernard Taverner’s possessions.

‘ Dios !’ he said paddling up to the hut. ‘What is this?’

So Finn explained and when he had finished the colonel was laughing so much, he looked as if he was going to fall into the water. The idea of the crows bringing a penniless actor to Westwood was the best thing he had heard in ages. ‘And you , senhorita ,’ he said to Maia. ‘A heroine no less.’

He told them that instructions to pay out the reward for Finn’s capture had been telegraphed from the Bishop so there could be no suspicion that they did not have the right boy.

Then came the day Maia had dreaded. The last of the provisions were loaded onto the Arabella — manioc flour and dried beans and oil for the Primus and gifts for the Indians.

That night Finn came to say goodbye to Furo and the others.

‘You’re to look after Maia,’ he told them. ‘Promise me you will not let any harm come to her.’

And Furo, who had been sulking because he too wanted to go with Finn, gave his promise, as did Tapi and Conchita. Only old Lila was inconsolable, weeping and rocking back and forth and declaring that she would be dead before he returned.

Watching from her window, Maia saw him come out of Lila’s hut, and for a moment she thought he was going to go without saying goodbye. Then he walked across the compound and stood under her window and she heard him whistle the tune that he had whistled on the night she came.

She ran outside then and hugged him and wished him luck, and she did not cry.

‘You’re not to spoil it for him,’ Minty had said, and she didn’t.

But when he had gone, she stood for a long time by the window, trying to remember the words of the song. It was a song begging the wind to bring back someone who had gone away in a ship, but she did not think it ended happily.

Well, why should it? Why should the wind care if she never saw Finn again?

Sir Aubrey had sent the carriage to the station. He himself was going to wait for his grandson in the drawing room.

If it was his grandson.

Clovis sat between Mr Trapwood and Mr Low. The crows were going to hand him over personally before returning to town.

It was cool. It was in fact very cool with an east wind blowing off Westwood Moor, and Clovis drank in the air with relief. No sticky heat, and no insects. He was in England at last.

They had driven for at least twenty minutes down an avenue of lime trees. Clovis could see the glimmer of water between the coppices. That must be the lake where the Basher had held Bernard’s head under water.

Then suddenly the carriage curved round a bend and Westwood lay before him.

It was exactly as Finn had described it: an East Wing, a West Wing, and a block in the middle — but it was very large: larger than he had been able to imagine.

For a moment Clovis found his stomach lurching. The crows were easy to hoodwink; they had fawned on him all through the journey and spent their spare time in the bar. But Finn’s grandfather would see through him; he was sure of that.

They passed the fountain with the person on it who was strangling a snake. He seemed to have lost his head, which was a pity. Then the carriage stopped outside the main entrance.

And Clovis saw a crowd of people massed on the stone steps which led to the front door! There were women in blue aprons, women in black dresses, men in livery and overalls and tailcoats…

Of course! The servants all lined up to greet him!

Clovis’ panic grew worse. He hadn’t realized that there could be so many servants in the world. Then he remembered that this had happened in Little Lord Fauntleroy when Ceddie arrived from America, and in a play called The Young Master when the lost heir returned to his home.

The coachman opened the door. Mr Low and Mr Trapwood waited respectfully for him to get out first.

Clovis squared his shoulders. He took a deep breath as he had always done before he went on stage, and moved forward.

And upstairs, in the drawing room, Sir Aubrey put his telescope to his eye.

When the boat docked at Liverpool, the crows had stopped at a gentleman’s outfitter and bought a tweed suit and cap for Clovis — the best that the shop could supply. Now, as he peered through the eyepiece, Sir Aubrey saw a handsome lad, blue-eyed and sturdy, who carried himself like a prince. The boy shook hands with the butler, the housekeeper and the cook, exactly as he should have done; then, at the top of the steps, he turned and thanked the lesser servants for their welcome before following the butler into the house.