Free Dangerous Waters by Rosalind Brett Page A

told her they had apologized to him for the rain and begged him to stay on till the waters lowered. After he had regretfully refused, they had insisted that he accept pieces of roast meat and a gourd of cooked rice, bunches of bananas and a grass bag full of mangosteens.
    “ We ’ ve enough food to last us the rest of the trip, without cooking anything more, ” he said. “ That means we ’ ll be able to keep moving. ” Then, offhandedly, “ Did you sleep well? ”
    “ Yes, thank you. What about our goods in the canoe? Are they wet? ”
    “ I wrapped the plastic tent round them, but they won ’ t have escaped entirely. The wet gets into everything. Oh, by the way, ” with cool emphasis, “ they ’ ll make gifts as you go down to the canoe. They want to show they regard our staying with them as an honor. ”
    “ Do I have to do anything in return? ”
    “ Only smile, ” he said laconically. “ Just to demonstrate how lucky you consider yourself in being my wife. ”
    For a moment, then, she badly wanted to apologize for her behavior of yesterday afternoon. But he was cool and distant, his smile was a blend of distaste and cynicism, and she couldn ’ t risk a further rebuff.
    “ Then we ’ ll leave at once. ”
    She said, “ I ’ m ready when you are. ”
    From plump, giggling girls, Terry received squares of batik, a necklace of orange-colored beans, a beautifully woven grass dish. At the water ’ s edge stood the old man with whom Pete had sat last night. In each hand he held a split bamboo which contained pink-looking rice grains swimming in coconut milk. His slit-like eyes disappeared in a wrinkled brown smile, and he bowed as he handed one bamboo to Pete and the other to Terry. Pete took down the mixture in one swallow. Terry hesitated, and managed it in three. The stuff was cloyingly sweet and tasted slightly alcoholic.
    The old man said, “ Tuan, we hope to see you here again, with your mem. Remember what I have told you about swift waters in the narrow of the river. ”
    “ I ’ ll remember, ” Pete said, shaking the leathery old hand. “ And I ’ ll be back to see you again, old man. Tabek. ”
    “ Tabek, tuan. Tabek, mem. ”
    The canoe must have been upturned for the night; it was wet, but held no water. Terry tucked her gifts under the plastic cover and sat down, the rope was dropped into the canoe and half a dozen eager boys pushed the heavy little craft out into midstream. There were shouts and more laughter, Pete raised a hand and began to use one of the paddles. Forest swallowed the village and its sounds. They moved along the thick muddy river and the smell of it overpowered every other odor. The sky was a heavy grey as they arrowed into a sudden blanket of mist. Why was mist always blue among these trees? Terry wondered.
    She felt clammy and unrefreshed. The dress she had put on was an oldish flowered one that she had packed when bright with hope that she would be able to help Annette in the preparations for the wedding. Now she would be too late to help very much, even if the rash at her waist didn ’ t develop into anything serious. In spite of the calomine, it burned and smarted, and this morning she had noticed pinpoints of blood in the red welts. She wished she had some antiseptic cream, but Pete hadn ’ t listed it among his first-aid kit.
    Now he was unapproachable. Not angry, she thought, not in the least. He was too indifferent towards her to be anything so positive. He had simply realized, very clearly, that she was young and easily scared and that his only obligation was to get her to Penghu as soon as possible. It seemed that he didn ’ t even need someone to speak to. So long as she sat looking fairly comfortable he was apparently uninterested in what she thought of the changing river banks.
    For after they had left the village and passed through a passage between mahogany trees, the swamps were there again, only this time they were shallow enough for use as padi