"My god, that must be the last of its breed!" Clive Jonas peered at the ancient Catalina flying boat that tugged gently at anchor in the harbor at Panagra.
"It's got to be at least fifty years old!"
Jim Cosby leaned forward to look over Jonas' shoulder.
"You mean we're going to fly in that thing? Are you out of your mind?"
Raoul Hernandez turned sideways in the driver's seat so he could see both Jonas and Cosby. Black-haired and slender, he had a quick vitality and an infectious enthusiasm. Pilot and owner of the Catalina, about 40 years old, he was dressed in a white shirt and once-blue jeans.
"She is old, senors," he said. "But she is good. I know her well -- I built most of her myself."
"Where did you get it for God's sake?" Clive kept his eyes on the plane as he asked the question.
"She was a smugglers' plane," Raoul said. Many years ago they abandoned it up the coast after an engine burned out and they had to make a forced landing. They taxied to a little fishing village and ran her ashore, then they stole a boat to carry their load to Mexico.
"But they were caught in Mexico and they never came back for their plane."
"And that's it? How long did it sit there before you found it?"
"Two years, senor. The man they stole the boat from took her, but she was no use to him because she had only one engine and he was not a pilot. He could not sell her easily because she was so old and the parts are hard to get, so I bought her very cheap."
"And you rebuilt her yourself?"
"I did, senor. I hired a boat to tow her to Panama and ground her on a little beach just south of the city, and I did most of the work there."
"Where did you find the parts?"
"When the Americans pulled out of Panama they left many parts behind in warehouses. I knew about them because my father had worked on their navy base. That's why I was willing to pay more for the plane than the junk dealers would."
"How long did it take you?"
"Two years, senor."
"And she's good? She's passed all the inspections?"
"I have been flying her for ten years, senor. She is slow, but she is safe."
"Safe enough for you, maybe," Cosby said.
"She is safe, senor, and she is the only long-range seaplane you will find around here."
Jonas opened the car door and stepped out.
"C'mon Jim," he said. "We'll take a look at it anyway. You don't have to fly in it if you don't want to, but I'll trust any Catalina that's still got wings. Those things just don't give up." He turned to Raoul, now getting out of the front seat.
"Okay, Raoul, show us your plane!" Turning, he headed for the battered dinghy that floated by the dock.
Pedro had been looking into Maria's eyes steadily for the past five minutes without moving. Her hand rested on the tree between them, his lay on top of it. He was not aware that one of his fingers gently stroked the back of her hand, but she was.
Juana ruled the fire now and the area around it, including the spot where Pedro and Maria sat. She had headed off several attempts to interrupt them -- women with questions for Maria and men with questions for Pedro -- but as preparations for dinner progressed the two were definitely in the way. Finally Juana turned to Manuel for help.
She found him sitting on one of the roots of the tree, talking to Pablo who drifted in the boat beside him. They both grinned as she made her request.
"You want to interrupt them, senora?" Manuel raised his eyebrows.
Juana laughed. "No," she said. "I don't want to interrupt anything, I just want to get them into the hammock where they belong.
"Now they are too close to the fire and we must prepare dinner. They are in the way."
Manuel smiled again. "Not the hammock, senora." He glanced to the end of the tree, where a dozen men still worked on the platform. "That is too public for the first time. We must get them alone somewhere." Idly, he kicked the side of the boat.
Pablo grinned.
"Not very good," Manuel said. "You should never use a boat at sea without water and food, Pablo. It would do no harm to carry a parachute too, just in case."
Pablo grinned again. "In San Felipe, I carried cushions."
"But we are not in San Felipe." Manuel pushed the boat away with his foot. "Get the boat ready and tie it by the platform. Then tell Ramon he needs you for something."
"Seguro!" Pablo started the motor and idled the boat toward the other end of the tree.
"Well, senor?"
Manuel turned. The question showing on his face. "Well what, senora?"
"About the senor and Maria. Can we move them?"
Manuel grinned. "You live inland, senora?"
"Yes. So what?"
"When a fisherman wants to make friends with a woman, senora, he may take her fishing."
Delight shone in Juana's face. "Of course."
Manuel looked out over the sea.
"Where did Pablo say he saw the mango tree?"
"Over there." Juana pointed. "Why?"
"Because you want some of them for dinner, senora."
"But Pablo looked at all of them. They are no good."
"Perhaps, senora, and perhaps he missed some. He also caught the three biggest and best-tasting fish we had yesterday at that tree. They must have been feeding on the mangoes."
"Pablo caught no fish yesterday, senor."
"Manuel grinned again. "Yes he did, senora. You did not remember, but you do now." He stood. "I'd better go and remind Pablo."
Five minutes later, Juana stood beside Maria and Pedro as she called to Pablo on the nearly-finished platform.
"Pablo -- those mangoes. Can you get some for dinner?"
"I'm sorry," he answered. "I cannot go now. Ramon needs me here."
"But I need you to run the boat."
"I am not the only one, senora. Manuel can run the boat. The senor can."
"Manuel?"
He answered from the platform. "I have work to do here, senora. We must finish this tonight, and none of these landsmen can tie a proper knot. Ask the senor."
Now Juana looked down at Pedro. "Senor? There is a mango tree floating out there -- beyond that tree." She pointed. "Could you take the boat please, and get us some for dinner?"
"If you're going out there," Manuel said, "take a fishing line. Pablo caught some good fish out there yesterday. They were feeding on the mangoes."
"Senor?"
Pedro looked up, then reluctantly released Maria's hand and prepared to stand. Juana shifted her gaze to Maria.
"Senorita? Will you go with him? You caught some good fish yesterday, but none today." She turned back toward the platform so they could not see her grin.
"There's the mango tree, senor!" From the bow of the boat, Maria pointed. In the stern, Pedro swung the tiller and closed the throttle. The boat turned toward the tree and slowed as Pedro surveyed the tree critically.
"Doesn't look like there's much on it."
"Perhaps on the other side."
"Could be. There must be some we can't see." Pedro opened the throttle again and the boat moved forward, swung around the crown of the tree and slowed again.
"Here we are." Idling the motor Pedro turned the boat toward the tree, eased it in among the branches, then shut the motor down. Maria stood to test a mango hanging above her, and found it spoiled.
Pedro stood and pulled one off the tree, then turned it slowly in his hands. It was spoiled and he could see the finger-marks where Pablo had tested it the day before. He turned to Maria.
"This one's gone. Looks like someone already tested it."
Maria looked at him, a puzzled look on her face. Then she smiled, sat down, and looked at Pedro.
"Pablo did it, senor. I remember now. Juana asked him if they were good and he said he tried every one on the tree."
Pedro looked at her. "I guess she forgot." He sat down, set the mango beside him in the boat and reached for the fishing line Manuel had given him.
"Well," he said. "There's still fish." With his knife he cut a chunk out of the mango and used it to bait the fish-hook.
"I remember something else, senor."
"Oh?" Pedro had been about to drop the baited hook into the sea. He paused and looked at Maria.
"Pablo didn't catch any fish yesterday, senor." Maria almost laughed at the look on Pedro's face when he understood.
Then he laughed. He dropped the baited hook over the side of the boat and looped the line around the center seat as he spoke.
"We'll fish anyway, while we're here," he said. He moved forward to the center seat beside Maria.
"We can talk while we see if there are any fish in the sea."
A half-hour later a hundred-kilogram sea bass took the hook and swam slowly away with it. Pedro and Maria noticed when the boat caught on a branch but by then it was too late. The boat tipped slightly, then the line broke and the fish swam away.
Moonlight through the branches above them wakened Maria. She opened her eyes in dreamy wonder, and found herself lying in the bottom of the boat with Pedro at her side. His face was pale in the moonlight but he looked relaxed and calm. His breathing was easy and regular and she felt proud and happy as she gazed at him. No tossing or turning in his sleep tonight! No bad dreams!
She hesitated to wake him but finally shook his shoulder gently.
"Senor!"
"Huh?" Pedro opened his eyes.
"Senor. It is night. We must go back to the tree. To the others!"
Pedro raised his head and looked about. Sat up and looked again, then stretched and yawned. He remembered where he was when he looked at Maria, and he bent down to kiss her before he spoke.
"Now what was it you wanted?"
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down again. Kissed him before she answered.
"I want you, querido, but it is late. Juana will be worried!"
Pedro grinned. "Is she still waiting for her mango? And for the fish?"
Maria laughed. "No, senor, but she will be worried if we do not return."
"I guess so." Pedro climbed slowly up on the seat and primed the motor. Started it, untied the boat and backed slowly out from among the branches.
The moon spread a ladder of light on the water ahead of them as Pedro idled the boat around the end of the tree. He pointed to the pattern of ripples in the moonlight.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
Maria looked at it and smiled.
"It is, querido. The fish feed well tonight."
"Fish?"
"Fish, querido. The ripples are from fish feeding."
Pedro shut the motor down. Maria looked at him and wondered at his grin.
"Querido?"
"Get the fish lines out, querida!"
They had six large fish by the time they reached the tree, one of them so big that Maria could not lift it into the boat. Between them, they carried the fish to the fire and left them there.
Then they tip-toed past the people sleeping on the platform to their matrimonio.
Juana was up before sunrise next morning. She looked at Pedro's matrimonio and smiled as she saw that it was occupied by two people.
She walked down to light the fire and almost burst out laughing at the sight of the fish that lay beside it.
She lit the fire, opened six cans of water and set them to heat. Then she picked up a seventh can of water and opened it as she walked toward the roots of the tree. She stepped past the sleeping Carla, set the can beside the stretcher, and looked at the injured man.
He was flushed now with fever, and there were beads of sweat on his brow. Juana lifted the blanket and gazed for a moment at the angry red swelling of his leg. Gently she lowered the blanket and again looked at his face.
Was he sleeping or unconscious? Juana was not sure. The leg looked as bad as it had yesterday and she wondered if the medicine was working.
She did not know, and she knew of nothing she could do about it anyway. She returned to the fire, felt the water cans and decided the one nearest the fire would be hot enough in a few minutes. She opened the package of matte and set it to the side where it would be handy.
Then she found the knife and began to clean and cut up the big fish.
She had the head off and the fish skinned and gutted when she heard movement on the platform. Manuel urinated off the side, then bent to shake another sleeping form. Juana could hear his words.
"Get up, Pablo. Time to catch breakfast."
Juana's own can of matte was cooling beside her as she worked. As Manuel turned toward the fire, she lifted another can of water from it and measured in a half-handful of matte.
She watched as Manuel stopped to look at the boat, floating quietly at its mooring. She saw his grin as he approached, and she smiled to herself as she picked up his matte and rose to meet him.
"Our love-birds have returned, I see." Manuel was obviously pleased.
"Senor? Juana pretended not to understand.
He waved at the boat. "Our love-birds. The senor and the senorita. The boat is back, so they must be back."
"Love-birds, senor? They went to find mango -- and to catch fish."
Manuel chuckled. "Something got caught all right, but I don't think it was fish!"
"No?" Juana feigned puzzlement.
"Then what are those, senor?" She turned and pointed to the fish that lay be the fire, then laughed aloud at Manuel's surprise.
In Panagra Clive Jonas and Raoul Hernandez stood on the dock as the dinghy paddled toward them.
Clive looked at the dusky man, clad in ragged jeans and clean white shirt who paddled it, then turned to Raoul. "We have a lot of Indian pilots in Canada," he said, "but I've never met one down here."
"Mayta, senor? He is not a pilot."
"Engineer then?"
"No senor." Raoul smiled. "I am the pilot, the engineer and the radio-man. He is just crew."
"What's he do then?"
"He lives aboard, senor, and he makes sure none of the equipment or the tools grow legs and walk away in the night."
"But you can hire a watchman anywhere. Why carry one with you?"
"He has other talents that are very good on a flying boat. He was born in a swamp, senor, and he knows, ropes, boats -- everything a man needs to know about the water." Raoul grinned.
"And he has other talents too. You understand, senor, that I am not a smuggler. I never break the laws of Costa Grande -- never.
"But even for legal loads, people do not hire flying boats to land at regular airfields. We land at small ports -- in swamps, on rivers -- all sorts of places. They are not always safe, but Mayta can see logs and snags that no one else can. He can tell how deep water is just by looking at it.
And sometimes it is almost impossible to get to shore to moor the plane, but Mayta can always do it. A log or a hummock of swamp that would not support a frog is like a paved road to him. They say his people can walk on water!"
Behind them, Jim Cosby fussed with a map on a clip board. Finally he handed it forward to Clive.
"That's the way I figure it," he said. "I can't be sure because I don't know how much to allow for the winds and how much for the currents, but the trees should be somewhere in that area I've circled."
Clive took the map and showed it to Raoul. The pilot smiled.
"Three hours out to the edge of the circle, senor, and four hours back. We have twelve hours' fuel, with reserves -- so we will have five hours to look for your logs. If we don't find them in that time, senor, there are not enough to be worth finding!"
The dinghy bumped gently against the dock and Mayta held it steady while they stepped into it.
Pablo came to the fire soon after Manuel and he too admired the fish. They took their matte and moved out of the way while Juana cleaned one of the small ones and cut and cooked fish for their breakfast.
"And Alfredo," Manuel asked. How is he this morning?"
"Not good, senor."
"Not good. Not bad?"
"No worse than yesterday, but I don't think he is better." Juana dropped the fish she had cut for Pablo onto a flat piece of wood tilted to face the fire.
Manuel swirled the matte in his can and looked at it.
"The senor does not want to cut the leg." Pablo said.
"Nobody wants to cut a leg, but sometimes it is necessary."
Ramon has seen arms cut off. Several times." Juana dipped her finger into a can to test the temperature of the water as she spoke.
"Has he seen a leg cut off?"
"No." Juana measured matte into the can of hot water. Picked it up and swirled it, then set it aside. She put another piece of fish on to cook, picked up the can of brewing matte, stood and walked past the two men. Manuel turned to Pablo again as she left.
"A leg is much bigger than an arm," Manuel said. The senor says it is much more serious to cut it."
"But if it must be cut?"
"That is the problem. We think it must be cut. But the senor knows more about it than any of us -- he has learned from doctors."
"He says he is not sure."
"Then I am not sure."
"But what if he is just afraid to cut? What if he knows the leg should be cut, but he is afraid to do it."
"Then what?" Manuel rested his elbows on his knees and looked out over the sea.
"When a man who knows more about something than I do is afraid of it," he said, "then I am afraid of it."
"Afraid of what, fisherman?" Ramon approached, carrying the matte Juana had brought to him. Juana slipped past him, knelt again at the fire and used a forked stick to lift Manuel's fish from the board where it was cooked onto a flattened water can that she set in front of him. Manuel thanked her, then turned to Ramon.
"Good morning," he said. "We were talking about Alfredo -- about whether his leg must be cut off or not."
Ramon swirled his can of matte thoughtfully before he answered. "I think it should be," he said. "We don't have time to think of such things in the plantations -- when the green snake bites, a man will die in a half hour if his hand is not cut off. We do it."
"But never a leg?"
"Never that I know of. Always, the snake bites the hand or the wrist. If it strikes at the boots or the trousers it does no harm, because the fangs are not long enough to reach through to the skin."
"So you do not know." Manuel broke a piece off the fish-steak in front of him. Put it in his mouth and chewed.
"No. But I see a man dying. I know he will not live if his leg is not cut off." Ramon took a sip of his matte.
"But you do not know -- none of us knows -- how strong is the medicine the senor gave him. He says it may be able to stop the infection."
"He says it may, but he does not know. I think he is afraid to cut the leg."
"I know he is afraid." Manuel took another bite of fish. "And that's what we were talking about when you came.
"The senor knows more than I do about these things; and when a man who knows more than I do is afraid, then I am afraid.
"Perhaps." Ramon stood, glanced across to Juana at the fire, then spoke again to Manuel and Pablo. "I think I have time to take a look at him before my fish is cooked."
He sipped his matte and looked down at Manuel.
"You may be right, fisherman. Pablo knows more than I do about sharks -- and I was not afraid of them when he was."
He touched Juana's shoulder as he passed her.
"I'll be back in a moment, querida."
On the platform Hayma stirred and slowly opened his eyes. He sat up and stretched, then looked around as he remembered where he was. Four other Ayuba lay nearby, and a half-dozen whites had also slept on the platform.
The Indian shook his head at the thought. He had slept among white people! Perhaps they were not so dangerous after all.
He stood and stepped up to the tree trunk. Looked at the matrimonio in time to see Maria poke her head up through the slit at the top. Nodded to her, and saw her nod back. The matrimonio jiggled a bit as she dressed.
Hayma closed his eyes and thought of the Mother. He felt the warmth of her presence and her pleasure at the sight of the full matrimonio.
Then he opened his eyes and watched Maria climb out of the hammock and walk toward the shield of cloth the women used as a bathroom. Hayma walked out to the end of a branch and pissed into the sea.
Maria was walking toward the fire when he finished. He followed her.
Juana saw Maria as she approached, and she sprinkled a handful of matte into a can of hot water for her. She stood with it to greet the younger woman, and smiled as she spoke.
"Good morning." Juana handed the can of matte to Maria. "This time I was up before you -- but don't apologize. You could have slept all day today!"
"I could have?" Maria accepted the can and swirled the matte gently. "Thank you, maybe I will. But I am hungry now. I need a big piece of fish!"
She knelt and leaned forward to cut a fillet off the fish Juana had started but Juana caught her arm and pulled her gently back.
"This is your morning, senorita. You don't have to cook your own breakfast."
Maria looked at her curiously, then smiled. "Thank you, senora." She looked at the fish.
"It looks just as big in daylight as it did at night. I nearly lost that one."
Juana looked at her. "You caught it?"
"We both did -- we had two lines out as we came back, and it took both of us to pull it into the boat.
"But I nearly lost it getting it onto the tree. The senor was on the tree and I tried to lift it up to him. I nearly dropped it back into the sea!"
"It is a beautiful fish." Juana laughed. "You should have seen the look on Manuel's face!"
She looked to the end of the tree where Ramon knelt beside the stretcher. On the fire, his fish was nearly ready. She cut another piece and set it to cook.
Then she took Ramon's fish off the fire and set it in front of Maria.
"Eat this one, senorita. Ramon will not be back for a few minutes.
"And then get back to your hammock. Take a coconut with you and some cans, so you will have milk for the senor when he wakes up."
"But I should stay here and help you with the fire!"
Juana smiled. "You have your own fire to tend this morning, senorita. Eat that fish and go back to tend it!"
Hayma was approaching now. Juana put another fish steak on the fire and prepared another tin of matte for him. When she turned back to Maria, the younger woman was blushing.
"It was you who asked for the mango! Thank you, elder sister!"
"As I said -- he just needed some training. Was it worth the effort?"
Maria grinned. "It was. I think I'll keep him!"
Juana's face sobered.
"Never say that, senorita. Do it if you can, but never say it!"
"Why not?" Maria was curious.
Hayma sat by the fire and Juana handed him a can of matte. Since he spoke no Spanish, she continued her advice to Maria in words she would never have used in the hearing of a man who could understand them.
"It scares them, senorita. A woman wants to be kept, but a man wants to be free. Remember that, and remember that the way to keep a man is to make him feel free."
"All men, Juana?"
"All the ones that are worth keeping, senorita. The ones you don't want are impossible to get rid of!"
Maria sat and watched as Juana knelt before the fire again. She cradled the can of matte in her hands and considered Juana's words.
"You may be right, senora. I am thinking of some people in San Felipe -- a man named Jose and his wife Carena. But senor Pedro would never be like Jose!"
"I don't know this Jose, but I think your senor will make a good husband if you keep him happy. Let him run free and let him take his choice of women, but make sure you are the best he can find."
Maria set her can of matte on the tree and wrapped her arms around her knees. She rolled back a bit, then forward again. Grinned.
"That will take practice, senora. I must practice often. Every chance I get!"
Ramon came back now, from his visit to the stretcher. His face was sober as he walked, but he smiled when he saw Maria.
"Good morning, senorita. You are up early. Do you think the senor will be able to get up today?"
Maria blushed. Juana shot Ramon a look that should have killed him, but she smiled as she turned back to the fire.
"You're fish is almost ready, Ramon."
"Good." Ramon squatted beside the fire and watched as Maria finished her breakfast. Then she stood, found a coconut and a couple of cans of water and returned to the hammock.
Ramon grinned. "I think I envy the senor!"
Juana glanced after Maria as she walked down the tree. She envied the sensuous swing of her hips and the swell of her tight buttocks.
"I think every man on the raft does." Juana used the cleft stick to pick up Ramon's fish on it and set it on a flattened water can for him.
"I don't. Not really." Ramon touched the fish with his finger and decided it was still too hot to eat.
"She looks good, but she hasn't got the practice yet. Besides -- I know the type. She wants a husband to give her children and to come home every night. She would never put up with me."
Juana looked at him, then turned back to the fire. "Every woman wants that, Ramon. But some of us take what we can get."
Ramon smiled. "And you got me. Any regrets so far?"
Juana laughed. "No. Not really." She looked at him and smiled. "I guess life would get a bit boring with the senor."
Ramon became serious.
"Alfredo is in bad shape. I think we should wake the senor and ask him to take the leg off."
"Ask him to take it off, or ask him if it should come off? If he is to do it, then he must decide."
"But it has to come off."
Ramon picked a piece off his fish and blew on it. Put it in his mouth and chewed as Juana continued.
"Will you do it?"
"I can't. The senor knows how and he has the medicines."
"And he doesn't want to do it. How would you do it, anyway? He is right about the size of the leg bone. I remember when we used to kill pigs on the farm. It took an axe to chop the bones, but you can't use an axe on a man's leg."
"A machete... "
"If you had one." Juana glanced at the short machete at Ramon's belt. "But yours is not a real machete -- it is just a little one. For travelling with, not for working. The senor's is the same.
"If you had a big machete -- the kind they use for working -- that would be different."
"But the leg must come off. Some of the Indians have big machetes."
"Perhaps." Juana looked toward the stretcher, then turned to where Maria was climbing into the hammock.
"But I know this. Alfredo is in no pain now, and he may die whether the leg comes off now or not. He means nothing to me anyway." She nodded toward the hammock.
"We all owe those two a lot, and this is the most important morning of their lives. Give them a few more hours, at least."
Ramon looked at the hammock and saw the movement as Maria settled herself. He picked up another piece of fish.
"Hell" he said. "Nobody even noticed Alfredo until he got hurt!"
The Catalina skimmed across Panagra harbor. In the co-pilot's seat, Clive felt a gentle rocking as the plane moved forward and heard the slap of the waves as it picked up speed. Then it steadied and the sound of the waves diminished as it climbed up on its step, and stopped as it lifted off the water. Looking back he smiled at the sight of Jim Cosby, nervous in the navigator's seat, and of Mayta half asleep in the hammock that swung near the middle of the fuselage.
Pablo had caught a large fish and was helping Juana clean it when Carla came running to the fire.
"Juana!"
"Si?"
"Alfredo is awake. He is in much pain."
"Let me see." Juana put her knife down. Stood and walked quickly to the stretcher.
Alfredo's face was covered with sweat. His eyes were closed tight and his jaw clenched, his lips pulled back to bare his teeth. Juana turned to Carla.
"How long has he been like this?"
"Not long, senora. I was close by -- it could not have been more than five minutes."
Pablo approached now, with Ramon. The foreman looked at the injured man, then knelt beside him. Spoke to Carla.
"Lift the blanket," he said. "Let's see that leg."
Gently, Carla lifted the blanket to bare Alfredo's leg. The crushed knee was blue now, with a tinge of green, and angry red lines ran half-way up the swollen thigh. Ramon sucked in his breath when he saw it.
"It must come off," he said.
Juana looked at the leg, then at Alfredo's face and nodded in agreement. "Something must be done."
"I will wake the senor." Ramon rose to his feet.
Juana looked at him. Considered and decided.
"No. I will wake him." She turned to Carla. "I don't know what he will need, but best heat some water. Boil it. A dozen cans."
"We should have a fire here," Ramon turned to Pablo. "The senor may need it. Bring coals from the other fire, so it will be ready soon."
Carla was already heading toward the fire. Pablo followed her and Juana walked slowly toward the matrimonio. The men working on the platform watched her as she passed.
The husk of a coconut lay on the tree below the double hammock. From within came a murmur of voices.
Juana stopped by the foot of the hammock and scratched the cloth with her fingernails.
"Senor?"
The hammock swung slightly, then Pedro's head appeared through the slit at the top.
"Good morning, senor." Juana hesitated, glanced at the sun and corrected herself. "Good afternoon."
Pedro looked at the sun, surprise on his face.
"My God, is it that late? Why didn't someone call me?"
"There was no need, senor. But there is need now. Alfredo is awake and in much pain. His leg looks very bad."
"I'll be there in a minute." Pedro's head ducked back inside the hammock, The head of the matrimonio sagged as Maria squeezed forward to leave Pedro more room to dress. She handed him his pants -- still rolled to keep things from falling out of the pockets -- and his tee shirt, and he put them on.
Then Pedro pulled down the side of the hammock and swung his legs out. Juana caught a glimpse of Maria pulling her dress on as Pedro stepped down to the tree.
"How long has he been awake?" Pedro walked toward the roots as he spoke.
"Not long, senor. Five minutes perhaps."
The men working on the platform waved and smiled as Pedro passed, but he barely noticed them. Hayma left the group and followed.
Pedro stopped by the supplies to pick up his jump-bag, then dug through the pile to find the first aid kit from one of the rafts. He took both with him as he turned toward the stretcher.
Juana had a can of matte ready by the time he reached the fire. She handed it to him as she spoke.
"There is another fire now, senor -- Ramon built it beside Alfredo. Carla is boiling water there, and I have some here."
Pedro paused.
"Thank you, senora, but you don't have to boil the water -- it's already sterile. It is good to have it heated though -- as hot as you would want to wash your hands in."
Juana touched a can. "It is hot enough now, senor."
"Good. I'll call you when I need it." Pedro turned again toward the stretcher. The knot of people crowded round it stood aside as he approached.
He knelt by the injured man and looked at his face. Spoke to him as he opened his jump bag.
"How does it feel, my friend."
Alfredo opened his eyes when Pedro spoke. He answered in a faint voice.
"It is bad, senor."
"But is it hot or cold? Does it ache?"
"It is hot, senor. And the pain -- I cannot describe it."
Pedro tore the paper wrapping from a packaged hypodermic.
"All right, my friend. I will give you a shot now, to take the pain away." He lifted the man's arm, slid the needle in and pushed the plunger.
Alfredo's eyes closed and his face relaxed as Pedro unwrapped another needle and gave the man a shot of general purpose antibiotic, then lifted the blanket and looked at the leg.
"It should come off, senor." Ramon knelt beside the fire about two meters away.
"I think it is worse now than it was yesterday, senor." Maria arrived and knelt beside Pedro.
"It is." Pedro lowered the blanket.
"Will you take it off?" Ramon's face was grave as he spoke.
"It is a very serious matter," Pedro said.
"But it must be done, senor. Without the leg, he has a chance."
"Yes." Pedro looked at Alfredo, then turned to the foreman.
"And it must be fast and clean -- it will be easier on him that way. Can you do it with one stroke of a machete? I could not."
Ramon's face paled as Pedro spoke, but his voice was steady as he answered.
"Not with my machete, senor, but I could with a big one. The Indians have big ones."
Pedro looked round the crowd that was gathering and saw Hayma watching. He turned to Maria.
"Tell him the problem. Ask if he will lend us the biggest machete they have."
Maria nodded, rose to her feet and spoke to the Indian. He closed his eyes for a second and thought of the Mother.
Then he opened his eyes, nodded, turned and trotted toward the platform.
"He will do it," Maria said as she knelt again beside Pedro.
Hayma returned in less than a minute with a big machete -- it's blade more than a meter long -- and offered it to Pedro. Pedro tore a piece off his shirt, wet it with some of the water Carla had heated and scrubbed the blade of the machete. Then he used another can of hot water to wash his hands before he felt the edge of the machete and turned to Ramon.
"That will do, senor." The foreman eyed the machete. It is a good one."
"But not sharp enough." Pedro handed it to him.
"Of course, senor." Ramon accepted it and turned to the men behind him.
"Pedro! The fisherman's file is on the platform. Will you bring it, please?"
"Of course, senor. " One man stepped out of the crowd. Trotted toward the crown of the tree.
Pedro opened the first-aid kit, sorted through it and slammed it closed in disgust. Then he turned to the young fisherman.
"Pablo?"
"Senor?"
"Have you ever seen a tourniquet?"
"To stop bleeding? Si senor."
"We will need one. Can you find enough parachute cord to make it, and a stick?"
"Seguro." Pablo turned, ran toward the supplies.
Now Pedro lifted the blanket off the injured man. The infection was obviously very bad -- one of the worst he had ever had to deal with -- but it didn't bother him as much as others had. He felt concern for the injured man, but no nausea or sickness when he looked at the rotting leg.
"Best get him off the stretcher, senor." Ramon, sat off to the side, carefully stroking the edge of the machete with the file.
"No," Pedro said. "I don't want to move him before you cut."
"Then I will cut the stretcher."
"I know." Stepping over Alfredo, Pedro lifted the good leg and moved it to the side as far as it would go. He looked up as Pablo returned with the cord and the stick.
"Something else we need, Pablo. A short log, thicker than his thigh, that we can put between his legs to protect the good one."
"I won't miss, senor." Ramon tested the edge of the machete with his thumb as he spoke.
"I'm sure you won't, my friend. But we will all feel better if we know his other leg is protected. I think you will feel better -- and cut better -- too."
Ramon stroked the edge of the machete again before he spoke. "You are right, senor." He offered the machete to Pedro.
"I think this is sharp enough now."
Pedro tested it and nodded. "It is, my friend."
He laid it carefully beside the stretcher. Drew his own machete and laid the end of the blade in the fire. Ramon lit a cigarette.
When Pablo returned Pedro placed the chunk of wood between Alfredo's legs. He made sure the injured leg was flat on the tree trunk, then glanced at his machete in the fire and saw that the blade glowed red. He looked at Ramon.
"Are you ready?"
Ramon stabbed his cigarette out on the tree and rose to his feet. "I am," he said.
"Okay. Pedro unwrapped an antiseptic swab and wiped the blade of the big machete. He used a second swab to wipe the blade again, then handed the huge knife back to Ramon.
"Don't touch the blade until after you use it."
He knelt by the stretcher and unwrapped yet another swab. Gently wiped around the leg just above the knee, then picked up the tourniquet Pablo had made. He centered the knot over Alfredo's femoral artery and wrapped the cord about the leg perhaps ten centimeters above the knee. He tightened it, tied it, then leaned back and turned to Ramon.
"Between the rope and the knee, as fast and as clean as you can." He stood and stepped aside.
"Seguro, senor." Ramon stepped into position and raised the machete. He paused, changed from a one-handed to a two handed grip and glanced at Pedro.
Pedro nodded. Ramon braced himself and struck.
The blade swept through the leg and through the stretcher to bury itself centimeters-deep in the tree trunk. Blood spurted and the severed leg rolled free. People stepped hurriedly aside as it approached them and watched in horrified fascination as it splashed into the sea.
Ramon wrenched the blade free of the wood, handed it to Pablo and pointed to the floating leg.
"Get that!" He spoke to no-one in particular as he turned to kneel beside Pedro.
Blood spurted despite the tourniquet. Pedro reached for his own machete, its blade now glowing red in the fire.
Carla didn't see the amputation. As Ramon raised the machete she heard a faint sound to the south and turned to look for it. As Alfredo's severed leg rolled into the sea she stared mesmerized at the tiny dot that might be an airplane.
As Pedro picked up his own machete she stepped toward him.
"Senor?"
"Shhh." Maria and Juana both, pulled her back when she would have touched Pedro's shoulder. "Can't you see he's busy."
"But senora -- there is an airplane!" Carla pointed toward the approaching Catalina.
Maria and Juana both looked at the plane, then at Pedro and Ramon. Pedro held the red-hot blade against the stump of Alfredo's leg now. It sizzled like a steak on a frying pan, and the smell of burning meat filled the air.
Juana turned to Maria. "We can't interrupt. They cannot leave him now!"
"But the plane!" Maria looked at the tiny shape in the sky. Listened to the sound of the engines, faint over the sea. "Where is Manuel?"
"Out with the boat. Fishing."
Maria looked at the Catalina again. "That plane sounds different. It's not one of the ones that was looking for us -- it's just passing by and it will not come back!"
She turned to Pedro and saw the look of concentration on his face.
"We must do something!" Juana spoke anxiously.
"We will." Maria looked again at the plane. "Come with me!"
She ran to the pile of equipment and searched frantically. Found the box of rockets.
"I should have thought of these before," she said, "instead of using those cans! The senor says they will signal a plane from kilometers away!"
She dragged the box out onto the tree trunk. Opened it and lifted one rocket out -- a cylinder nearly a meter long and about ten centimeters in diameter. Juana looked at it curiously.
"How do we set it off?"
"Here are instructions -- yes, there's Spanish too. Look."
Maria handed the rocket to Juana and turned to study the instructions on the box.
"Type VII -- whatever that means. Is that what it says on the rocket?"
"I cannot read, senorita."
"Show me one then." Maria looked at the rocket . "Yes there it is." She turned again to the instructions. "Is there a paper tag on one end of it?"
Juana touched it with her hand. "This, senorita?"
Maria glanced at the rocket. "Yes, that's it. These are very simple then, we will have no trouble. Give it to me!"
Maria took the rocket, pulled the fuse-tab out of the end and heard something start to sizzle.
She cocked her arm back and threw the rocket as far as she could out to sea.
It splashed into the water and floated for a minute, pointed end upward. Then it fired and soared several hundred meters into the sky to burst with a thunderous crash and a flaring fireball that settled slowly toward the surface.
Maria looked toward the plane, saw that it had turned and was heading away from them now.
"Another, quickly. This may be our last chance." Maria grabbed a second rocket and a third. Pulled the tabs and threw them into the sea.
Pedro was lifting the hot machete away from the seared stump as the first rocket exploded.
He turned, saw the fireball hanging in the sky and the streamer of colored smoke. Ramon turned too and started to rise.
"No!" Pedro's voice stopped him. "Whatever it is, it will have to wait." He turned back to Alfredo.
In the Indian camp the Mother-of-all started at the sound. She scrambled to the door of her hut just in time to see the fireball just before it sank below the trees. She closed her eyes and thought desperately of all her people.
Hayma was startled by the rocket too, and by the Mother's thought that hit him with almost physical force. He had to calm himself for a moment before he looked carefully at Maria as she threw the second and third rockets into the sea. Then he closed his eyes and thought of the Mother.
Ten kilometers away the Catalina cruised a couple of hundred meters over a mass of floating trees. In the observation blister, Clive Jonas and Jim Cosby studied the floating wood with binoculars.
"I don't recognize half of them, but they're good trees all right," Cosby said. "If we get all of them we'll wipe out the hardwood market for a year."
"And we have them. All cut and waiting for us in international waters! First come, first served!" Clive was jubilant.
From behind them came a startled cry. They turned to see Mayta sit bolt upright in his hammock, a look of terror on his face. He spoke a few words in a strange, guttural language.
He looked desperately around the interior of the plane. Swung out of his hammock and ran forward to the cockpit where he grabbed Raoul's shoulder.
"What is the banging senor? What is the fire?"
Startled, Raoul looked at the Indian.
"The banging, senor. Is it dangerous? The light -- like the sun falling!"
Raoul listened to the plane but heard only the reassuring drone of the twin engines. He looked at his instruments and saw them all reading normal. He looked back into the fuselage and saw Cosby and Clive crowding forward to watch him.
He turned to Mayta. "You were sleeping?"
"Si senor." The Indian put his hand to his forehead. "My head aches."
Raoul grinned. "I'm not surprised. That must have been some dream you had!"
Then he spoke to Clive. "Well, senor? We have fuel for about two more hours, then we must head back."
Clive looked at Cosby. "Jim? What do you think?"
"There's obviously enough here to justify an operation. I bet it would take a couple of weeks to count them -- and the time would be better spent logging than counting."
"My thoughts exactly. Right now I guess the best thing to do is to call home and get things started." He glanced at his watch. "Besides, Mary's plane should be getting in soon."
He turned to Raoul.
"Okay, we've seen enough for this trip. Let's go back to Panagra. And I guess you'd better consider yourself chartered for at least a month!"
Smiling, Raoul turned his eyes to the compass and banked the plane to turn back to land. A month's charter -- and that was just a start!
In the Indian camp Hotan opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times to recover from the shock of the Mother's desperate fear. He looked at her and wondered at the puzzlement on her face.
"Mother?" He leaned forward.
She looked at him. Spoke.
"I am all right, Hotan -- and it seems the banging is not dangerous. The girl was making the noise, with something that shot up into the air.
"But there is something strange. I just heard one of my sons -- someone I have not heard for a long time. He is not with us, but he is not very far away. I must think of this."
The Mother-of-All leaned back against her back-rest and closed her eyes. She opened her mind, and began to count her people.
Pedro slid the wooden block under the seared stump of Alfredo's leg to keep it raised. He opened a packet of antibiotic powder and dusted it over the burn, then bandaged it.
He spread the blanket over the injured man. Alfredo would be in shock now, and he must be kept warm even in the heat of the tropical day. Pedro looked carefully at his face.
"And now, senor?" Ramon's knees were drawn up in front of him as he sat, Pedro saw that his pants were soaked with blood and that his own were soaked too. He looked at the dribble of blood that lay below the stump. A liter, perhaps two lost. In a hospital they would replace it -- but Alfredo would not die from lack of blood.
A hand set one can of matte in front of him and another before Ramon. Pedro turned to look at Maria as she knelt beside him.
"While you were busy," she said, "there was a plane."
Pedro's eyes opened wide.
"I did not want to interrupt, senor, so I fired rockets. Three of them."
Pedro nodded.
"But the plane turned away -- it did not come to us! They must not have seen the rockets!"
"Was it one of our planes? What color was it."
"It was silver, senor, and it sounded different from the others. It was different -- I have seen one like this before at San Felipe. It has propellers and it can land on water."
"Then it wasn't looking for us." Pedro looked at the empty sky. "It's gone now. I wonder what it was doing out here?"
He looked back at Maria, saw the distress on her face.
"I wasted the rockets," she said.
Pedro reached for her hand.
"You did what you had to do, querida. If they had been looking for us they would have seen the rockets. If they weren't looking for us they might not even have been looking outside the plane! You could not know."
"I am sorry, senor."
"Don't be. The rockets didn't work, but you tried." He glanced at the injured man laying beside him.
"With or without the leg, he may die. But we tried."
They could hear an outboard motor now, beyond the tree across from them. Pedro watched as the boat appeared, Manuel at the tiller, three men with him. Pedro stood and looked again at his patient. Then spoke to Carla as she sat beside him again.
"Keep him warm and comfortable, senora. Give him lots of water when he wakes up, or matte if he wants it."
"Si senor." Carla glanced at him, then turned her eyes back to Alfredo.
The crowd dispersed. Pedro turned and walked toward the fire. Maria, Juana and Ramon with him. They met Manuel as he climbed up from the landing.
"Senor," he said. "The plane...."
"Yes?"
"They did not see the rockets?"
"I guess not. I was busy." Pedro turned his head to look back toward the stretcher. "We cut off Alfredo's leg."
"Senor? is he all right?"
"We don't know yet, but I think so. Maria and Juana set off the rockets."
Manuel was embarrassed.
"I was less than a kilometer away senor. I tried to get back but I was foolish. I flooded the motor, and it would not start quickly.
"Do you think anyone in the plane saw the rockets, senor?"
"No. It might not have landed but it would not have flown away. They would have come to look for us."
"I think so, senor. Well, we are comfortable as long as the water lasts."
Manuel looked down now, at the bloodstains on Pedro's and Ramon's pants.
"But you had better get those pants washed, senor, and you too, my friend. If you fall in the water like that, the sharks won't wait before they attack!"
Juana looked at Ramon, then Pedro. Take the pants off, senors," she said. I will wash them.
"Not in the sea," Manuel said. Scoop some water into that canvas bucket from the raft, and wash them in that.
Maria looked at Pedro. "I will wash yours, senor," she said.
"No you won't!" Juana said. "Take him back to the hammock, senorita. Then bring his pants to me and go back to the hammock yourself!"
"And you, Ramon." She turned to the foreman. "You will stay with me while I wash yours. I won't have you walking around with no pants!"
The Mother beckoned. Hotan stepped forward and knelt to listen to her whisper.
"Who was it, Hotan -- the young man who went off in the airplane?"
Hotan looked at her, puzzled.
"The brother of Hayma. He went away with a man who had a big airplane that could land on water. It landed in the river one day, and someone went away on it."
"I remember, Mother."
"What was his name, Hotan? His name?"
Hotan hung his head. Covered his face with his hand. Then straightened up.
"It was Mayta, Mother."
"Yes -- I remember now." The Mother's eyes closed again, Hotan stepped back and watched.
The Mother leaned back with her eyes closed and whispered to herself.
"Mayta. Mayta."
Five-year-old Carl Jonas slept in one bedroom of a suite at the Hotel Panagra that evening while Clive and Mary relaxed with drinks in the sitting room. A pad of yellow foolscap paper, half covered with scrawled notes, lay on the sofa beside Mary. Clive sprawled in an easy chair, his eyes closed as he listened to her.
Okay -- sawmills, markets and import duties," she said. "We check them tomorrow. But I think we should look at the Asian market too. They're just as close as anyone else by ship, and they're hungry for wood.
"Why not ask Jenkins if he could put a plywood mill in a ship? That would really sew it up."
Clive grinned. "He hasn't even worked out the sawmill yet. You're going to drive him up the wall."
"That's what he's paid for. I'll phone him tomorrow. If this stuff is as good as you say it is, we should clean up."
"I'm not that sure yet -- I don't know enough about the trees down here. But there's got to be enough to justify a pretty big operation. The stuff's free -- no stumpage or anything."
"Except for the cost of operating at sea. What about weather?"
"I checked. The season's right -- we should be able to count on six months' operation with no major problems."
"And where will that stuff be at the end of six months?"
"Jim figures it will pass about a thousand miles south of Hawaii and be somewhere near the Marshall Islands by then."
Mary tapped her pencil against her front teeth as she looked at the pad beside her.
"It's almost too good to be true, but I don't see the hitch in it."
"I don't think there is one." Clive chuckled.
"What's so funny?"
"I was just thinking about that Indian I was telling you about. The one who flies crew for Raoul.
"You liked him?"
"Sure -- he seems like a good guy. But he was sleeping while Jim and I were looking over the logs, and he had a nightmare of some sort. All of a sudden he jumped up and started asking what all the banging was. We thought the plane was coming apart or something."
"But nothing happened?"
"No. Raoul quieted him down and he went back to sleep.
"But when we got half way back he got up again and wanted Raoul to turn around. He said his mother was out there, and he wanted us to fly back and get her."
"That sounds great. Is he off his stick or something? If he is, I'm not sure I want him with us tomorrow."
"I don't even know why we're going tomorrow. We know the stuff's out there, and I think we'd best start working on the business end of it."
"You know it's out there and I believe you -- but I still want to see it. I can't feel greedy enough to do a good job if I haven't seen what we're working on.
"And you'd better start thinking about getting someone out there full-time, soon. Don't forget it's first-come, first served. Once we get our crew out there it's ours -- but if anyone else gets there first it's theirs. We'd better make sure no-one else stakes a claim before we spend too much money!"
Clive grinned. "All that because you want a ride in a funky old plane. What if I got our company plane down here -- would you still want to fly half-way across the Pacific?"
Mary picked up a pillow and threw it at him. Clive ducked and it knocked over the lamp beside him. He laughed.
"You're slow, girl!"
"I've been working too hard for a slob who doesn't appreciate me," Mary said. "Call the babysitters, and you can show me the town."
"Okay." Clive reached for the phone. But I'll have to call Raoul first and tell him to get rid of the girl he was going to set me up with."
The next pillow knocked the phone from his hand and it broke as it hit the floor. He had to use one in the bedroom to call the babysitter.
Maria woke early the next morning and savored the feel of Pedro curled around her. His arm lay over her and his hand cupped her breast. His breath felt warm on her back and his beard scratched a bit.
Gently, she pushed his hand from her breast. Lifted his arm and laid it on his side, then turned on her back to look at him. She craned her neck to kiss his forehead then, still slowly, she sat up and pushed her head through the slit at the top of the matrimonio. Looked about in the half-light just before sunrise.
A few coals still glowed in the fire. Carla had sat up most of the night with Alfredo but she dozed now, sitting beside him with her knees drawn up and her head resting on them, a panel of parachute cloth wrapped around her like a shawl.
Maria ducked her head inside the matrimonio again to look for her dress. Pedro had rolled it up and was using it as a pillow.
His shirt was down near his feet. She rolled it up, carefully lifted his head and put it in place of her dress. He stirred, but did not wake.
Maria slipped the dress over her head and pulled it down to her waist, then pulled the side of the hammock down.
There was no one around. She swung her legs out, stood and shook the dress down so it covered her. Then she glanced back at the matrimonio -- now closed again -- and saw no movement. Pedro still slept.
Maria straightened her dress and ran her hands through her hair as she walked to the fire.
A couple of dry sticks caught quickly and the fire burned brightly as she opened three cans of water and set them by it to heat.
While she waited the world turned red and she felt the warmth as the sun crept over the horizon. She sat by the fire with her knees drawn up, her arms wrapped around her shins, to watch it.
She had been frightened when she awoke on the boat that first morning, and when she landed on the tree. She had been alone in the world then -- a young girl, cast away in a strange place with a group of strangers.
Now she was a woman among friends who respected her, living in a place and a way that might seem strange to others but that felt natural to her. She was a woman now, and she had a man to help her and protect her. A man who needed her comfort and care.
One of the cans of water began to boil. She measured a half-handful of matte into it, swirled it a moment, then set it to cool.
She kept one eye on the matrimonio, watching for movement. When Pedro awoke, she would make matte and bring it to him as he climbed out of the hammock.
He was hers while they stayed on the tree -- Juana had told her that and she knew it in her own heart. But Juana had also warned her that things might change when they returned to land. He might feel differently when he was among his own people.
Maria drew her legs up and wrapped her arms round her shins. Rested her chin on her knees and gazed at the matrimonio.
Hotan was drinking matte and talking with Maria when Pedro woke. Maria still watched the hammock, and she had begun brewing matte when she saw it move. She brought it to him as he returned from the branch the men used as a bathroom.
"Hotan is waiting for you, querido. He has a message from the Mother."
"Oh? Is she all right?"
"I think so, but I think she was scared by the rockets yesterday. He asks a lot of questions about them and he wants to know if we have more of them."
"Well, let's see what it's about, anyway." He walked with her to the fire and sat facing the Indian. He offered Hotan a cigarette as Maria knelt by him to translate.
"He says the Mother is well, querido, and she sends her greetings. She asks if you have more thunder and lightening -- that's what he calls the rockets."
Tell him we have, and that they do no harm. Tell him we fired them to signal the plane that flew past yesterday."
"He knows that, querido -- but I don't quite understand. He says he didn't see the plane, but he knows it flew past.
"He says it will come back today and that you should have more rockets ready to fire when the sun is high -- that's noon -- but you should not fire them until he tells you to. He says he will stay with you today, and you should stay on the tree."
"What makes him think the plane's coming back?"
"The Mother told him, querido."
"And how would she know?"
"She knows many things, querido."
Pedro looked at Maria with interest. He was sure she knew more than she told him. He remembered his own experience with the Mother-of-all and decided it was better not to think about it.
"I wasn't going anywhere anyway -- but tell him we have only two rockets left. We have to save them for signals, and we can't fire them for any other reason."
"He says he knows that, querido. But he says the ones I fired yesterday were wasted because no-one was looking. He said he will tell you when someone is looking."
"But he didn't even see the plane. How does he know no-one was looking?"
"I'm not sure, querido. He says the Mother tells him these things, and that she will tell him when to tell you to fire the rockets today."
"Tell him he's welcome to stay with us, but that I must decide when to fire the rockets. Say it some way that won't offend him, and offer him breakfast. I'm not going to waste rockets to amuse him but he's helped us a lot and I want to stay friendly."
Hotan closed his eyes as Maria spoke. When he opened them he was obviously disappointed, but not unfriendly. He had eaten breakfast before he came to the tree, but he accepted Maria's offer.
Young Carl Jonas loved the Catalina, even though he was not allowed to play in it as he wanted to. His main disappointment was that he was not allowed to ride in the forward gun turret -- which had no guns and no seat now -- for the take-off. He was allowed forward while the plane was in the air though and Mayta -- a real live wild Indian -- even opened the hatch so he could stick his head out and gasp for breath in the 100-knot wind for a few moments.
Mayta was wonderful too. Carl had met Indians on trips with his parents around B.C. but they all spoke English, so they were not wild Indians. Mayta spoke some strange language that even his parents could not understand and they could speak to him only with the pilot as an interpreter. They said the strange language was Spanish, and that Mayta spoke another language that not even the pilot could understand. He was funny when he closed his eyes and nodded his head, as though he were talking to someone.
The pilot had allowed Carl to fly the plane for a while too, and the pilot obviously thought that should be a real treat. But this pilot's idea of flying the plane was that Carl sit still in the co-pilot's seat and touch the wheel without moving anything. Carl could not remember the days when his parents had owned no plane of their own, and he had been touching the wheel without moving it before he could walk. His idea of a thrill now was to be allowed to turn the plane or to make it climb or dive but his father said this plane was too big for a little boy to handle.
Now the plane was circling around a log boom -- like the log booms at home but much bigger -- and the Indian had pulled him back to the observation blister and was pointing at something outside. It must be very interesting because the Indian was excited, but Carl could see nothing.
His mother was looking out the other side of the plane with binoculars -- perhaps she could see what it was if she turned around. Carl reached up and tugged her arm.
On the tree they watched as the plane passed nearly twenty kilometers away. It was just a barely-visible speck in the sky, but the sound of the engines was clear in the silence of the open sea.
Pedro held the last two rockets ready in his hand. Hotan stood at his elbow, Maria at his other side. Hotan spoke and Maria turned to Pedro.
"Now, querido. He says now is the time to fire the rocket."
"Too soon, they won't see it from there unless they're looking right at us."
"He says it must be now."
"Tell him I know about these things. If we fire the rocket now they won't see it, and we can't afford to waste any."
Hotan grabbed a rocket out of Pedro's hand. Looked at it in frustration and thrust it back at him.
He looked desperately about the tree. Ran to the red matrimonio. Tore it loose from the branches and ran to the tall branch where the radar reflector hung. He scrambled up, locked his legs around it and waved the hammock back and forth.
Aboard the Catalina, Mary Jonas peered out where young Carl pointed. Saw nothing. Mayta said something and Raoul turned round to call back to her.
"He says there's a red flag, senora, on one of the trees over there."
"If there is, I don't see it."
"He has good eyes and he's usually right. Try the binoculars."
Mayta could not see the hammock from that range and neither could Mary Jonas, even with binoculars. But she did see a raft of trees much bigger than the one they had been looking at. She called Clive and handed him the binoculars.
"You've been looking at the small stuff Dumbo. Take a look out there!
Clive looked. Called to Raoul and told him to turn north.
At the top of the branch, Hotan stopped waving the flag and shouted to Maria.
"He says the plane is going to turn toward us now, querido. He says to fire the rocket."
"Tell him it's too soon. They still might not see it. Tell him they can't see him waving that hammock either."
"He says he knows that, querido, but they are coming closer. They will see it when they come close enough."
Pedro shaded his eyes and peered at the plane. Beside him, Manuel shaded his own eyes.
"I think it's turning, my friend. Can you see?"
"It is turning, senor, but I cannot see whether it is coming toward us or going away."
In the plane Raoul shaded his eyes and peered ahead where Mayta pointed. He turned to Clive.
"He says the flag is still there, but I don't see it."
"Maybe his eyes are acting up. Remember his dream yesterday, and the story about his mother?"
"Perhaps, senor. We'll see, anyway, if you want to look at the trees. He says it is on one of them."
Mayta still could not see the flag and he had pointed the wrong direction when he tried to direct Raoul to it. As Pedro and the others watched the plane they realized that it would miss them by about five kilometers. Hotan saw it too, and he stopped waving the hammock, clung to the top of the tree and called to Maria again. She turned to Pedro.
"He says if you will not fire the rocket when he tells you too, will you please tell him when you are going to fire it? He says it will be better if he knows."
Pedro glanced at Manuel, saw agreement in the fisherman's eyes.
"Tell him I'm letting one go now" Pedro cocked his arm. At the top of the tree, Hotan closed his eyes and thought of the Mother.
In the plane Raoul felt his seat move under Mayta's grip. He glanced up as the Indian leaned over his shoulder, eyes sweeping the horizon. Then Mayta's hand shot out, pointing to the right.
Raoul turned his head just in time to see the rocket burst. Then he banked the plane toward the fireball that settled slowly into the sea.
In the Indian camp, the Mother-of-all relaxed. Opened her eyes and smiled. Now Hayma dared to lean forward and wipe the sweat from her face.
The horn sounded once and the diesel engines throbbed as Manuel eased the throttles forward. Water churned under the stern of the tug and the log moved slowly into the cradle.
Then Ramon dropped his hand and Pablo started the winch, closing the noose of steel cable. As the cable came taut the log lifted slowly out of the sea and onto the raft. As it stopped Hayma ran up the shearlegs and opened the running block at the top to let the cable fall free.
Clive and Pedro watched from aboard the ship as the log was winched slowly into line with the other crosspieces of the huge raft, and lashed in place.
Clive looked at the setting sun and turned to Pedro.
"That will be it for tonight," he said."They can do the last three tomorrow morning, and then you'll have the biggest damn houseboat in the world!"
He turned his back to the rail and looked at Mary, sitting in a deck chair with yet another pad of yellow foolscap paper. She looked up at him as she spoke.
"The cheapest camp, you mean. It's all going to go through the sawmill when they're through with it, and the net cost will be less than nothing!" She grinned at Pedro. "You have to keep reminding him of things like that, or he'll nickel and dime you to death."
Pedro grinned self consciously. After three weeks, he was still not used to his employers' breezy informality. He watched as Clive settled into the deck chair beside Mary, opened another beer and turned to face him.
"You're all settled with the corps now, are you?"
"Yes. I'm out, and I have three years to take up the free tuition if I want it."
Clive snorted. "Don't worry about that," he said. "With your cut from this show, you'll be able to buy your own university by then!"
"Don't listen to him, Pedro." Mary looked up from her note-pad. "You're going to do all right, but ten per-cent of the profits split between all of you isn't going to be that much." She grinned.
"You should have asked for twenty five per-cent!"
Now Pedro grinned. "You should have told me that before I signed," he said.
Clive laughed. "That's what they all say," he said. "Mary's all sweetness and light after the deal is done, but if you'd tried for twenty five per-cent she would have talked you down to five!" He took another sip of beer.
"Anyway," he said, "it's done now and you'll be on your own starting tomorrow. Raoul will be here for us about noon, and you should have about two weeks to get the camp finished before the sawmill gets here."
"We'll be ready," Pedro said.
"Okay." Clive finished his beer in one long draught and set the can on the table beside him. Stood and looked down at Mary.
"Early day tomorrow -- you can finish that in the plane, can't you?"
Mary looked up with a mischievous grin on her face. "I had other plans for the plane," she said, "but I can still finish this later." She stood, took Clive's hand in hers and led him toward their stateroom.
Left alone on the sun-deck of the small passenger-freighter that had been his home for two weeks, Pedro looked out over the raft. Most of the whites who had been on the tree with him would live on the ship until their floating village was complete, but the Indians had already moved to the raft.
Their swamp had been wiped out by the flood, and the government of San Cristobal had offered them a thousand hectares of land as a reservation. The Mother had flown to the mainland and looked at it, but she didn't want it.
Better the trees they knew, she told Pedro, than the white man's gift. With the money they could make logging, plus their share of the profits, they could choose and buy their own land.
Since she had returned her people had set up more than a dozen huts on the raft -- the nucleus of a small village. Now their fires glowed gently in the gathering dusk.
There would be huts for all before the ship returned to land, then they would start work on another raft on which to assemble the sawmill. The floating village would take about two years to drift across to Asia, Clive predicted, and by then they would have sawn up and shipped most of the trees. The rafts would be towed to harbor somewhere, the village and the sawmill moved to land, and the rafts themselves would be turned into at least another shipload of lumber.
Pedro took a deep breath of the sea air, and turned to go down to his stateroom.
She was black haired and beautiful as she lay on the big white bed. She smiled, and Pedro moved toward her.
She said something but her words were lost in the scream of a klaxon horn from somewhere outside. Pedro started and his face paled.
Maria sat up in surprise.
"What's wrong, querido? It's only Manuel, in the tugboat."
"Of course," Pedro said. He smiled, shook his head to dislodge a memory, and joined her on the big white bed.