River of Death

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Hamilton momentarily ceased paddling and glanced involuntarily over his shoulder. Then he bent himself again to his task but with even more energy this time.

Ramon and Navarro, as by pre-arrangement, had already begun to move to the other end of the island. Now they stopped abruptly when they heard the cry ashore, a cry now taken up by the shouting of many more angry voices.

Ramon said: 'I think Senor Hamilton must have been up to something. I also think we'd better wait a little.'

The two men crouched on the island shore, rifles at the ready, and peered out across the channel. The bulky outline of Hamilton's launch and the two canoes he was towing were now visible not thirty yards from where they were. Not as visible, but still distinct enough to be unmistakable, were the shadowy forms of canoes putting out from the village in pursuit.

Ramon shouted: 'As close to the island as you can. We'll cover you.'

Hamilton glanced over his shoulder. The nearest of half a dozen canoes was already less than thirty yards away. Two men stood in the bows, one with a blowpipe to his mouth, the other pulling back the string of his bow.

Hamilton crouched as low as possible in the boat, glancing almost desperately to his right. He could now see both Ramon and Navarro and he could see that they had their rifles levelled. The two shots came simultaneously. The warrior with the blowpipe toppled backwards in the canoe: the one with the drawn bow pitched into the water, his arrow hissing harmlessly into the river.

'Quickly,' Hamilton called. 'Join the others.'

Ramon and Navarro loosed off a few more shots, more for the sake of discouragement than with the intent of hitting anything, then began to run. Thirty seconds later they rejoined the remainder of the party at the downstream end of the island, all looking anxiously up-river. Hamilton was struggling, unsuccessfully, to bring his unwieldy trio of boats ashore: it looked as if he would miss the tip of the island by feet only.

Ramon and Navarro handed over their rifles, plunged into the river, seized the bows of the motor-launch and turned it into the shore. There were no orders given, no shouts for haste: such were needless. Within seconds all the equipment and passengers were aboard the motor-launch, the boat pushed off and paddles distributed. They cast frequent and apprehensive glances astern but there was no cause for concern. The canoes, unmistakably, were dropping behind. There was going to be no pursuit.

Smith said, not even grudgingly: 'That was rather well managed, Hamilton. And now?'

'First we bail out. There should be three cooking pans floating around somewhere. Then we move out into the middle of the river — just in case they've sent some sharp-shooters down the left bank. There's going to be a full moon shortly, the skies are cloudless so we might as well carry on. Kellner and Hiller must be distinctly worried about us by this time.'

Tracy said: 'Why the two empty canoes?'

'I told you yesterday evening that there were falls about fifty miles below the town. That's why we had to airlift the hovercraft beyond them. The falls are about twenty miles farther on now. We'll have to make a portage there and it would be impossible to make it with this elephant. When we get there and have emptied her we'll give her a shove over the edge. Maybe she'll survive, the falls are only fifteen feet.'

Some little time later the now bailed-out motor-launch glided gently down the centre of the river, six men at the paddles but not exerting themselves; the current bore them along. The newly risen moon gleamed softly on the brown water. It was a peaceful scene.

Five hours later, as Hamilton guided the launch into the left bank, the passengers could distinctly hear the sound of the falls ahead, no Niagara roar, but unmistakably falls. They made the bank and tied up to a tree. The portage was not more than a hundred yards. First all the equipment, food and personal luggage were carried down, then the two canoes, and just in case the motor-launch should survive its fall, the three cooking utensils for bailing as well.

Hamilton and Navarro climbed into a canoe and reached a spot where the white water ended about a hundred feet below the foot of the falls and paddled gently to maintain position. Both men were looking upriver towards the falls beyond which, they knew, Ramon was at work.

For half a minute there was only the brown-white smoothness of the Rio da Morte sliding vertically downwards. Then the bows of the motor-launch came in sight, appeared to hesitate, until suddenly the entire boat was over and plunging down. There was a loud smack and a considerable cloud of spray as the launch first entered the water then disappeared entirely. All of ten seconds elapsed before it reappeared. But reappear it did, and, remarkably, right side up.

The launch, so full of water that there were only about four inches of freeboard left, drifted sluggishly downstream until Hamilton got a line aboard. With no little difficulty he and Navarro towed it to the left bank and tied up. Bailing operations commenced.

The brightly illuminated hovercraft lay anchored in mid-river. Navigation, deck and cabin lights were on. Kellner and Hiller were already close to despair because the expected arrivals were already fifteen hours late and it hardly seemed likely that if they hadn't arrived by that time that they would be arriving at all. They had no cause for worry as far as they themselves were concerned. They had only to continue down-river till they came to the junction with the Araguaia and some form of civilisation. Both men were prepared to wait indefinitely and both for the same unexplained reason: they had faith in Hamilton's powers of survival. And so Kellner had his hovercraft lit up like a Christmas tree. He was taking no chances that the helicopter would bypass him in the darkness.

He and Hiller, both men with their machine-pistols immediately and constantly ready to hand, stood on the brief after-deck between the fans, ears always straining for the first faint intimation of the rackety clamour of the Sikorsky. But it was his eyes that gave Kellner the answer he was waiting for, not his ears. He peered upriver, peered more closely, then switched on and trained the hover-craft's powerful searchlight.

A powerless but impassively manned motor-launch and two canoes had just appeared in line ahead round a bend in the Rio da Morte.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The hovercraft's cabin was luxuriously furnished although on a necessarily small scale. The bar was splendidly if selectively equipped and, at the moment, well patronised. Most of the passengers from the wrecked helicopter gave the impression of having escaped from the jaws of death. The atmosphere was relaxed, almost convivial, and the spirit of the departed Heffner did not appear to hover over the company.

Hamilton said to Kellner. 'Any trouble during the night?'

'Not really. A couple of canoe-loads of Indians approached us just after midnight. We turned the searchlight on them and they turned and headed back for shore.'

'No shooting?'

'None.'

'Good. Now, the big question tomorrow is the rapids that the Indians call the Hoehna.'

'Rapids?' Kellner said. 'There are no rapids shown on the chart.'

'I daresay. Nevertheless, they're there. Never been through them myself although I've seen them from the air. Don't look anything special from up there, but then nothing ever does. Much experience with rapids?'

'A fair bit,' Kellner said. 'Nothing that a boat hasn't navigated though.'

'I'm told boats have made it through the Hoehna.'

'So where's the problem? A hovercraft can navigate rapids that no boat made by man could ever hope to.'

Serrano said: 'Knowing you, Senor Hamilton, I thought you would have had us on our way by this time. A clear night. Bright moon. A beautiful night for sailing. Or is it "flying" in one of those machines?'

'We need a good night's rest, all of us. It's going to be a hard day tomorrow. The Hoehna rapids are less than a hundred miles away. How long to get there, Kellner?'

"Three hours. Less, if you want.'

'One does not navigate rapids by night. And only a madman goes there in the hours of darkness. Because of the Horena, you see.'

Tracy said: 'The Horena? Another Indian tribe?'

'Yes.'

'Like the Chapate?'

'They're not at all like the Chapate. The Horena are the Roman lions, the Chapate the Christians. The Horena put the fear of living death into the Chapate.'

'But you said the Muscias —'

'Ah! The Muscias are to the Horena what the Horena are to the Chapate. Or so they say. Goodnight!'

'Rapids!' Ramon called out. 'Rapids ahead!'

In the two and a half hours since the hovercraft's dawn departure the Rio da Morte, though flowing at a rate of about fifteen knots, had been almost glassily calm and, although visibility had been poor because of fairly heavy rain, no problems had been encountered. But now conditions had dramatically altered. At first indistinctly through the now sheeting rain, but then suddenly, frighten-ingly, and all too vividly rocks could be seen, some jagged, some curved, thrusting up from the river bed. For as far as the eye could see hundreds of them spanned the entire width of the river with white-veined, seething water coursing down between them. The hovercraft, throttled back to a point where directional control could just be maintained, was almost at once into this white and seething cauldron.

When Kellner had said that he had some little experience of navigating rapids he had been doing himself less than justice. As far as the untrained observer could see, he was masterly. He was positively dancing a jig at the controls. He no longer had the throttle pulled back but kept altering it between half and full ahead which, considering their speed, might have seemed foolhardy, but wasn't. By doing this and by ignoring the air ducts and maintaining the cushion pressure as high as possible he could all the more easily avoid making violent course alterations which would have slewed the hovercraft broadside and into disaster. Instead, he was deliberately aiming for and riding his hovercraft over the less fearsome rocks in his pat…; Even here he had to be selective, searching out the more rounded rocks and avoiding the jagged ones which, at that speed, would have ripped even the abnormally tough apron skirts, leading to the collapse of the cushion and turning the hovercraft into a boat which would then have foundered in short order. One moment he was jerking the pitch control back, putting power on the left fan, then if this proved insufficient, applying right rudder to give him directional stability while only seconds later he had to reverse the procedure. His task was made harder by the fact that even the high-speed windscreen wipers were capable only intermittently of clearing the spray and rain.