Evelyn Waugh - A Handful Of Dust

“Just sit quiet here while I sling your hammock.”

“Yes, I'll sit here with Brenda. I am so glad she could come. She must have caught the three-eighteen.”

She was with him all that night and all the next day. He talked to her ceaselessly but her replies were rare and enigmatic. On the succeeding evening he had another fit of sweating. Dr. Messinger kept a large fire burning by the hammock and wrapped Tony in his own blanket. An hour before dawn Tony fell asleep and when he awoke Brenda had gone.

“You're down to normal again.”

“Thank God. I've been pretty ill, haven't I? I can't remember much.”

Dr. Messinger had made something of a camp. He had chopped a square clear of undergrowth, the size of a small room. Their two hammocks hung on opposite sides of it. The stores were all ashore, arranged in an orderly pile on the tarpaulin.

“How d'you feel?”

“Grand,” said Tony, but when he got out of his hammock he found he could not stand without help. “Of course, I haven't eaten anything. I expect it will be a day or two before I'm really well.”

Dr. Messinger said nothing, but strained the tea clear of leaves by pouring it slowly from one mug into another; he stirred into it a large spoonful of condensed milk.

“See if you can drink this.”

Tony drank it with pleasure and ate some biscuits.

“Are we going on today?” he asked.

“We'll think about it.” He took the mugs down to the bank and washed them in the river. When he came back he said; “I think I'd better explain things. It's no use your thinking you are cured because you are out of fever for one day. That's the way it goes. One day fever and one day normal. It may take a week or it may take much longer. That's a thing we've got to face. I can't risk taking you in the canoe. You nearly upset us several times the day before yesterday.”

“I thought there was someone there I knew.”

“You thought a lot of things. It'll go on like that. Meanwhile we've provisions for about ten days. There's no immediate anxiety there but it's a thing to remember. Besides what you need is a roof over your head and constant nursing. If only we were at a village …”

“I'm afraid I'm being a great nuisance.”

“That's not the point. The thing is to find what is best for us to do.”

But Tony felt too tired to think; he dozed for an hour or so. When he awoke Dr. Messinger was cutting back the bush further. “I'm going to fix up the tarpaulin as a roof.”

(He had marked this place on his map Temporary Emergency Base Camp .)

Tony watched him listlessly. Presently he said, “Look here, why don't you leave me here and go down the river for help?”

“I thought of that. It's too big a risk.”

That afternoon Brenda was back at Tony's side and he was shivering and tossing in his hammock.

When he was next able to observe things, Tony noted that there was a tarpaulin over his head, slung to the tree-trunks. He asked, “How long have we been here?”

“Only three days.”

“What time is it now?”

“Getting on for ten in the morning.”

“I feel awful.”

Dr. Messinger gave him some soup. “I am going downstream for the day,” he said, “to see if there's any sign of a village. I hate leaving you but it's a chance worth taking. I shall be able to get a long way in the canoe now it's empty. Lie quiet. Don't move from the hammock. I shall be back before night. I hope with some Indians to help.”

“All right,” said Tony and fell asleep.

Dr. Messinger went down to the river's edge and untied the canoe; he brought with him a rifle, a drinking cup and a day's provisions. He sat in the stern and pushed out from the bank; the current carried the bow down and in a few strokes of the paddle he was in midstream.

The sun was high and its reflection in the water dazzled and scorched him; he paddled on with regular, leisurely strokes; he was travelling fast. For a mile's stretch the river narrowed and the water raced so that all he had to do was to trail the blade of the paddle as a rudder; then the walls of forest on either side of him fell back and he drifted into a great open lake, where he had to work heavily to keep in motion; all the time he watched keenly to right and left for the column of smoke, the thatched domes, the sly brown figure in the undergrowth, the drinking cattle, that would disclose the village he sought. But there was no sign. In the open water he took up his field glasses and studied the whole wooded margin. But there was no sign.

Later the river narrowed once more and the canoe shot forward in the swift current. Ahead of him the surface was broken by rapids; the smooth water seethed and eddied; a low monotone warned him that beyond the rapids was a fall. Dr. Messinger began to steer for the bank. The current was running strongly and he exerted his full strength; ten yards from the beginning of this rapids his bow ran in under the bank. There was a dense growth of thorn here, overhanging the river; the canoe slid under them and bit into the beach; very cautiously Dr. Messinger knelt forward in his place and stretched up to a bough over his head. It was at that moment he came to grief; the stern swung out downstream and as he snatched at the paddle the craft was swept broadside into the troubled water; there it adopted an eccentric course, spinning and tumbling to the falls. Dr. Messinger was tipped into the water; it was quite shallow in places and he caught at the rocks but they were worn smooth as ivory and afforded no hold for his hands; he rolled over twice, found himself in deep water and attempted to swim, found himself among boulders again and attempted to grapple with them. Then he reached the falls.

They were unspectacular as falls in that country go — a drop of ten feet or less — but they were enough for Dr. Messinger. At their foot the foam subsided into a great pool, almost still, and strewn with blossoms from the forest trees that encircled it. Dr. Messinger's hat floated very slowly towards the Amazon and the water closed over his bald head.

Brenda went to see the family solicitors.

“Mr. Graceful,” she said, “I've got to have some more money.”

Mr. Graceful looked at her sadly. “I should have thought that was really a question for your bank manager. I understand that your securities are to your own name and that the dividends are paid into your account.”

“They never seem to pay dividends nowadays. Besides it's really very difficult to live on so little.”

“No doubt. No doubt.”

“Mr. Last left you with power of attorney, didn't he?”

“With strictly limited powers, Lady Brenda. I am instructed to pay the wage bill at Hetton and all expenses connected with the upkeep of the estate — he is putting in new bathrooms and restoring some decorations in the morning room which had been demolished. But I am afraid that I have no authority to draw on Mr. Last's account for other charges.”

“But, Mr. Graceful, I am sure he didn't intend to stay abroad so long. He can't possibly have meant to leave me stranded like this, can he? … Can he?”

Mr. Graceful paused and fidgeted a little. “To be quite frank, Lady Brenda, I fear that was his intention. I raised this particular point shortly before his departure. He was quite resolved on the subject.”

“But is he allowed to do that? I mean haven't I got any rights under the marriage settlement or anything?”

“Nothing which you can claim without application to the Courts. You might find solicitors who would advise you to take action. I cannot say that I should be one of them. Mr. Last would oppose any such order to the utmost and I think that, in the present circumstances, the Courts would undoubtedly find for him. In any case it would be a prolonged, costly and slightly undignified proceeding.”