Journey to the River Sea

Chapter Eleven

By the time Clovis had been in Finn’s hut for three days, he knew Westwood by heart. He could go upstairs and downstairs, into the attics where the maid Bella had hidden Bernard’s secret pile of money, and into the cellar where he had made friends with the bats. He knew the outhouse where Bernard had kept a pet rat and the tree to which Dudley and Joan had tied a little girl from the village and beaten her with willow twigs because she had been trespassing by the lake.

And he could imitate any accent.

‘After he’s been there a week, he’ll be talking like Sir Aubrey or braying like Joan,’ Finn said to Maia.

The Goodleys had taught Clovis to fence and he had been in so many plays set in grand houses that his table manners were excellent. If he got to West-wood, Finn was sure he could hold out for a little while. Finn had shown him a map of the north of England and Clovis had discovered that the village where his foster mother lived was only thirty miles away, which had cheered him up a lot.

‘But he’s such a coward,’ Finn said to Maia. They were scraping the old paint off Arabella’s deck-fittings, a job which Clovis did not care for.

‘I don’t think it’s cowardly to be afraid of hiding in a dark cellar and waiting to be snatched by two horrible crows,’ said Maia.

Finn frowned. ‘You’re always defending him,’ he said crossly.

‘Well, he’s alone in the world.’

‘So am I alone in the world,’ said Finn.

‘No, you aren’t. You’ve got Lila who adores you and Professor Glastonberry and the chief of police, and all the Indians here. And when you get to the Xanti you’ll probably have lots and lots of relatives. Aunts and uncles and cousins — and maybe grandparents too. A huge family…’

‘Do you think so? I hadn’t thought of it like that.’ Finn did not look particularly pleased.

Maia nodded. ‘It’s sure to be like that. Whereas Clovis and I don’t have anybody.’

‘You’ve got Miss Minton.’

It was Maia’s turn to stare. Three months ago she hadn’t known that Miss Minton existed. When she’d first seen her, she thought she was a terrifying witch. But now…

There was a pause. Then:

‘And you’ve got me,’ said Finn.

Maia lifted her head and smiled at him. For a moment she felt completely happy. Then she looked at Finn’s hand resting on the tiller.

‘But you’re going away.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s true. I’m going away.’

Later that night when Maia was back in the bungalow, and Finn was frying some eggs Furo had brought for their supper, Clovis said, ‘There’s something I want to ask you about. When I was looking for Maia the first time, I asked for a place called Tapherini, or the House of Rest. Maia told me that that was what it was called and that Mrs Carter had it on her notepaper. But no one had heard of it and they looked… sort of funny. And then the captain of the boat wouldn’t put me down on the Carters’ landing stage. He said it was a bad place. What did he mean?’

Finn sat back on his heels. He seemed to be wondering whether to speak or not. Then he said, ‘I’ll tell you but you must promise to say nothing to Maia.’ And he told Clovis what had happened when the Carters first came to the Amazon.

‘They found an Indian longhouse by the river and some thatched huts back in the forest. The land and the houses belonged to the Tapuri, which is the tribe to which Furo and Tapi belong, but many of the Indians had left to find work in the town, and the elders of the tribe agreed to sell the land and the houses on it to the Carters.

‘The price was agreed before witnesses. A proper ceremony took place and Mr Carter signed the document to which the old chief put his mark. The Tapuri asked that the House of Rest which was what the longhouse had been called, should be left standing, because a very wise medicine man had died there and his spirit still lived in the house and did not want to be disturbed.

‘Mr Carter agreed to everything. Good land by the river was hard to find since so many Europeans had come to Manaus to make their fortune, and the rubber trees in the surrounding forest were plentiful.

‘The money was to be paid to the Indians in three lots. Mr Carter paid the first lot promptly, in gold coins fetched from the bank, and the chief of the Tapuri thanked him and took his people to build themselves homes further up the river.

‘A month later the chief’s messenger came for the second lot of money and was sent away. Mr Carter, he was told, was waiting for more gold to come from the bank in England on a special ship.

‘The messenger went back into the forest and came again a month later. He was told that the ship with the gold on it had sunk in a storm.’

And so it went on. The Indians began by being polite, and ended up shaking their fists at the Carters. Those Europeans who knew what was happening went to the chief of police, who tried to force Carter to pay what he owed — but Carter always found an excuse not to do it. Not only that, but he broke his word to the Indians and pulled down not only the surrounding huts in the forest but the longhouse itself, and on the site he built his bungalow.

Mrs Carter had Tapherini, or House of Rest, put on her writing paper — she thought it sounded good — but no one in Manaus ever called it that, nor would the Indian traders land on the Carters’ landing stage but always, like the captain who had brought Clovis, stopped higher up. And the many decent Europeans who knew what had happened tried to have as little to do with the Carters as possible.

After this not many Indians would come to work for the family. Those that did, Furo and Tapi and old Lila, stayed for personal reasons — Lila because she wanted to be near Finn and his father; Furo because he was her nephew; Conchita because she had a crippled brother to support in Manaus. When they worked in the house, they were unforgiving and sullen, and secretly they believed that one day the old medicine man’s spirit, which had been disturbed and shamed, would rise up against the Carters, and the family would get what they deserved.

Clovis had been listening to Finn with a very worried face.

‘But that’s a sort of curse. Maia shouldn’t live in a house that’s been cursed.’

‘I know. But nobody has cursed Maia — nobody in the world would do that. And Furo and the others have promised to look after her. They absolutely promised.’

‘And you’re not going to tell Maia?’

‘No. Definitely not. She’s got enough to put up with, with those awful twins.’

Mrs Carter had at last arranged Maia’s piano lessons with Netta’s father, Mr Haltmann. Maia went to his house before the dancing class while the twins were shopping with their mother, so she could enjoy it and not have to pretend that learning the piano was boring. If there was one thing the twins really hated, it was if Maia seemed to enjoy anything.

Mr Haltmann came from Vienna and he was a first-class musician. He not only taught Maia the piano; he understood her need to learn the songs she heard everywhere: in the streets of Manaus, on the river boats, in the huts of the workers.

‘It is a rich land for music, Brazil. Everything flows into everything else. In one song you can hear the rhythm of the Africans, the poetry of the Portuguese and the sadness of the Indians.’

He promised to look at the songs she had written down, and he suggested too that she had singing lessons and train her voice — but this she wouldn’t do.

‘My mother was a singer — she was wonderful and I don’t want to try and copy her,’ she said.

The other good thing which came out of her time with the Haltmanns was Netta’s friendship. The Austrian girl welcomed her wholeheartedly; she had a litter of kittens in a basket, a basset hound with soulful eyes, and a baby brother as fat as butter. Netta walked with her afterwards to the dancing class, and if Maia forgot to put on a gloomy face when she saw the twins sitting with their legs stuck out in the locker room, waiting to have their shoes put on, she was in trouble.

‘What are you smirking about?’ asked Beatrice now. ‘I suppose you’re waiting for Sergei to ask you to dance.’

The twins’ plans for getting rid of Maia were not going well. They had been to her room and picked over her things, but Miss Minton had heard them, and since they themselves never went out of doors, it was difficult to spy on Maia properly. The notice of the reward for the capture of Taverner’s son was still on the hoardings, but time was running out. Mr Low and Mr Trapwood were supposed to be leaving on the Bishop in three days’ time.

Sergei did ask Maia to dance. Not only that, but he asked her to a party.

‘It’s on Friday night — it’s for Olga’s birthday. I know it’s very short notice, but my father has to go to Belem the next day and we wanted him to be here.’

Maia hesitated. Friday night was the night Clovis was to hide in the museum. For her to be in Manaus then would be perfect if she was to betray Clovis to the twins — but only if the twins were there as well.

‘I’d love to,’ she said, ‘but I don’t think I can come without Beatrice and Gwendolyn. I’m sort of their guest — you know how it is.’

Sergei looked mulish. ‘They’re horrible. I hate them. But if you won’t come without them… I’ll ask Olga.’

Olga also disliked the twins, but she too said that if Maia couldn’t come without them she’d better bring them along.

‘If Miss Minton comes too, it ought to be all right,’ said Sergei. ‘She’ll keep them in order and she gets on well with our Mademoiselle Lille. And there’s no trouble about getting you home — my father will send you back in one of our boats.’

The Keminskys were one of the richest families in Manaus. Sergei’s father, Count Keminsky, owned huge plantations of rubber trees; he treated his workers well and the money flowed in — not only from rubber but from hardwoods and coffee and sugar cane. Maia had passed their house; a big mansion with pink walls and blue shutters, and a garden full of flowering trees. There couldn’t be anywhere better for a party.

If the twins were pleased to be invited, they didn’t show it. Only Mrs Carter’s eyes gleamed. She hated the Russian family — but a count was a count, and who knew what might come out of it for her girls?

Finn’s dog was called Rob, but no one used his name much. He was somehow all dogs rolled into one with his trust and intelligence and faithfulness; and though he could hunt his own food and steady the canoe by putting his weight in the right place, he understood that when humans were upset one had to sit there while they pulled one’s ears, or buried their faces in one’s back, or even cried. A dog who will allow himself to be cried over is worth his weight in gold.

He had been Bernard Taverner’s dog and now was Finn’s, and other people did not interest him very much. But he was always very polite to Maia, and as she rubbed his back and said, ‘I don’t know how I’m going to get the twins to do what I want,’ he caught the worry in her voice and did not move away though he had heard some interesting noises in the bushes behind the hut.

‘It’s quite easy,’ said Clovis — and Maia looked up, surprised, for Clovis was not usually a boy who found things easy. ‘It’s just acting.’

‘Yes, but I can’t act.’

‘Anyone can act,’ said Clovis. ‘There are just a few tricks. Techniques they’re called, but they’re just tricks really.’

They had just finished afternoon tea in the hut, which was Clovis’ favourite meal, but when it was cleared he said, ‘Look. Watch me.’

He went to the window of the hut and looked out, seeming to be interested in what he saw. Then he came back and sat down. After a while he got up and did the same thing. The third time Maia got up and followed him to the window.

‘You see,’ said Clovis. ‘If you go to the window twice, the third time people will always follow you. It’s the same when you’re pretending to give someone the slip, but really you want them to come after you. Don’t pause and look round furtively — just keep changing your pace. Sometimes dawdle, sometimes run…’

So while Finn checked the list of things that Clovis would need for his night in the museum, Clovis coached Maia in how to act the part of someone with a guilty secret. ‘Because they mustn’t think I want to betray Finn,’ she said. ‘They know I wouldn’t do that. They must think I’ve done it by mistake.’

Just before Furo came to fetch Maia, Finn took her aside and took something out of the pocket of his trousers.

‘Look,’ he said, and held out to her a beautiful silver pocket watch on a long chain. He clicked it open and showed her the initials BT engraved inside.

‘Your father’s?’

‘Yes. He gave it to me on my last birthday. It was the only thing he brought from Westwood. I feel I ought to give it to Clovis — it would make them absolutely certain he was me.’

‘But your father wanted you to have it.’

‘Yes,’ said Finn, looking stricken. ‘But if it would help…’ He shook his head. ‘Never mind, it’s for me to decide.’

Then Furo’s canoe came through the reeds and Maia hugged Clovis and said goodbye. If everything went according to plan, Clovis would be on the boat the day after tomorrow, and it was hard leaving him.

‘But I expect you’ll come to England, won’t you?’ Clovis said. He had given her the address of his foster mother. ‘I wish you were coming now,’ he said and his eyes filled with tears.

As Finn helped Maia into the boat, he leant forward and whispered in her ear. ‘Don’t worry about Clovis,’ he said. ‘I’ll see he’s all right. I won’t let him get too scared, I promise.’

And Maia nodded and got into the canoe and was paddled away.

‘That settles it,’ said Mr Trapwood. ‘We’re going back to the pension. We’re going to pack. We’re going to be on the Bishop first thing tomorrow. Sir Aubrey will have to send someone else out. Nothing is worth another day in this hell-hole.’

Mr Low did not answer. He had caught a fever and was lying in the bottom of a large canoe owned by the Brothers of the Sao Gabriel mission, who had arranged for the crows to be taken back to Manaus. His eyes were closed and he was wandering a little in his mind, mumbling about a boy with hair the colour of the belly of the golden toad which squatted on the lily leaves of the Mamari river.

There had, of course, been no golden-haired boys, there hadn’t been any boys at all. What there had been was a leper colony, run by the Brothers of St Patrick, a group of Irish missionaries to whom the crows had been sent.

‘They’re good men, the Brothers,’ a man on the docks had told them as they set off on their last search for Taverner’s son. ‘They take in all sorts of strays — orphans, boys with no homes. If anyone knows where Taverner’s lad might be, it’ll be them.’

Then he had spat cheerfully into the river because he was a crony of the chief of police and liked the idea of Mr Low and Mr Trapwood spending time with the Brothers, who were very holy men indeed and slept on the hard ground, and ate porridge made from manioc roots, and got up four times in the night to pray.

The Brothers’ mission was on a swampy part of the river and very unhealthy, but the Brothers only thought about God and helping their fellow men. They welcomed Mr Trapwood and Mr Low and said they could look over the leper colony to see if they could find anyone who might turn out to be the boy they were looking for.

‘They’re a jolly lot, the lepers,’ said Father Liam. ‘People who’ve suffered don’t have time to grumble.’

But the crows, turning green, thought there wouldn’t be much point. Even if there was a boy there the right age, Sir Aubrey probably wouldn’t think that a boy who was a leper could manage Westwood.

Later, a group of pilgrims arrived who had been walking on foot from the Andes and were on their way to a shrine on the Madeira river, and the Brothers knelt and washed their feet.

‘We know you’ll be proud to share the sleeping hut with our friends here,’ they said to Mr Low and Mr Trapwood, and the crows spent the night on the floor with twelve snoring, grunting men — and woke to find two large and hungry-looking vultures squatting in the doorway.

By the time they returned to Manaus the crows were beaten men. They didn’t care any longer about Taverner’s son or Sir Aubrey, or even the hundred pound bonus they had lost. All they cared about was getting onto the Bishop and steaming away as fast as it could be done.