Dangerous Waters by Rosalind Brett Read Free Book Online

disappeared into the forest.
    She heard the cracking of bamboos, sat forward, with her arms about her knees and watched while he dragged the material he had cut down to the canoe. With a Malay parang, he trimmed a couple of supports which he bound to the back of her seat in the canoe with long tough grasses. Banana leaves were stretched between the supports and fastened, and he threw his shirt over the contraption for comfort.
    “ It ’ ll serve for a few hours, ” he said. “ Ready? ”
    She got up. “ You ’ re already getting angry with me, aren ’ t you? ”
    He looked down at her, dispassionately. “ I ’ ll get you to Penghu, and in return I ’ d like you to do as you ’ re told, that ’ s all. ”
    “ Even in things that don ’ t matter? I ’ m not tired, so why should I lie down? ”
    “ Because when you ’ re on this kind of trip you may be called upon for an occasional big effort and it ’ s best to save yourself in every possible way, to be ready for it. You can be sure I won ’ t tell you to do things that aren ’ t for your own good. ”
    “ I know, ” she said contritely, “ but how would I feel, lounging about while you work? Don ’ t treat me as a nitwit. Give me jobs to do. ”
    “ You can cook, when the time comes. Get into the boat. ”
    He put one foot down and steadied the canoe. Terry slipped into her seat and leaned back into the support he had made. It was surprisingly comfortable, and as they skimmed along the river she dozed.
    Late that afternoon they came to the first village. It was a stretch of houses on stilts right at the water ’ s edge, and the people looked primitive and ragged. But there was an individual in a sarong who demanded to see their permit. He scrutinized it thoroughly, and to show them he understood it he told them in broken English that Tuan Sternham and his mem could stay at the village for the night, or go on, as they wished. Pete chose to proceed.
    He paddled into the dusk, and then suddenly there was no light whatsoever, except the occasional beam from his flashlight. The going was slow and wearisome, and it must have been about seven-thirty when he said,
    “ We ’ ll call it a day. There ’ s a bit of grass just here, and we ’ ll camp. Maybe tomorrow night I ’ ll be able to rig up a lantern and keep going through the dark hours. ”
    “ But aren ’ t you tired? ”
    “ A bit, but you can always go on after a couple of hours ’ rest. You can keep up the intensive stuff for about a week. After that you have to camp every other night. ”
    “ You mean you can, ” she commented, as she staggered stiffly on to the bank. “ What sort of man are you? ”
    She thought he grinned as he replied, “ You don ’ t really want to know, do you? The less you know about me, the safer. Isn ’ t that what you think? ”
    “ In a way. I ’ ve already found out one thing—in your temperate fashion you ’ re very kind. ”
    “ Shucks, it ’ s nothing, ” he said modestly.
    She laughed. “ I think you could be rather nice, if you bothered. May I insist that you sit down while I get some exercise, bringing the things up from the canoe? ”
    “ I need the movement or my legs will atrophy. But you can find those eggs and break them into a pot. We ’ ll have them scrambled with the last of the chicken. ”
    It was difficult to find dry twigs among the damp growth, but he managed to get a smoky fire going, and to boil a pot of water. The resultant coffee was unlike any brew Terry had ever tasted, but it was incredibly good; the first coffee she had tasted since the cupful served by the deckhand on the steamer yesterday. Was it only yesterday? The steamer, the argument on the jetty, the restless night with a Malay woman on the floor beside her, this morning ’ s talk with Pete, that strange little ceremony in the old headman ’ s house, were things which had happened in another life. This was an unbelievable interlude which came between the journey