<h2 id="c4"><span class="small">CHAPTER IV</span> <br/>The Safari Starts</h2>
<p><i>Thrumm—thrumm—thrumm—thrumm—</i></p>
<p>As Biff awakened, the steady sound made him think
that he was back on the plane above the Amazon. He
opened his eyes expecting to see the yellow sea far
below.</p>
<p>Instead, he saw black water streaming past the side
of a boat, churning white as it scudded back into the
distance. When he turned his head, he saw his father
beside him.</p>
<p>They were propped against some boxes near the
front of a long cabin cruiser, which had a permanent
top stretched like a canopy over its large, open cockpit,
making it ideal for tropical travel. But there was
nothing ideal about Biff’s present plight.</p>
<p>Biff’s hands were bound in back of him by a rough
cord that chafed his wrists. His ankles, too, were
tightly tied. At a glance, Biff saw that his father was
in a similar situation. The thin, tough rope around Mr.
Brewster’s ankles looked like a tropical vine.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_26">26</div>
<p>Biff tried to speak, but he found his lips too dry, his
throat too parched. He caught a warning headshake
from his father, and following the direction of Mr.
Brewster’s gaze, Biff saw two chunky men, clad in
baggy, sleeveless shirts and old khaki trousers cut off
at the knees.</p>
<p>The pair were standing guard like patient watchdogs,
looking for any move from the captives. They
had black, straight hair and coppery skin; those features,
plus their stony, immobile expressions marked
them as Indians from the headwaters of the river,
which, from its blackish color, could only be the Rio
Negro.</p>
<p>One Indian spoke in a guttural dialect, and a shrill
voice responded from up ahead:</p>
<p>“So they’re awake now? Good! Igo, you take the
wheel.”</p>
<p>One Indian moved forward. Moments later, a
scrawny man with a crafty, wizened face beneath a
shock of whitish hair, stepped into sight. To the other
Indian, he piped:</p>
<p>“Ubi, you stay here. You help me watch.”</p>
<p>Then, tilting his head in birdlike fashion, the white-haired
man studied the prisoners and demanded:</p>
<p>“What were you two doing around that boathouse?”</p>
<p>Mr. Brewster kept his lips tightly closed, his eyes
staring straight back toward the frothy wake from the
cruiser’s propeller. Biff, too, ignored the question.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_27">27</div>
<p>“Maybe you’d talk if I gave you a drink of water,”
the scrawny man suggested, “and maybe I ought to toss
you in that big drink out there”—he gestured toward
the river—“and let you try to swim ashore. You
wouldn’t get far, tied like that.”</p>
<p>The stolid silence of the Brewsters annoyed the
white-haired man. His voice rose to a still higher
pitch:</p>
<p>“I mean it, every word of it! I’ll find a way to
make you talk, as sure as my name is Joe Nara!”</p>
<p>Biff almost gulped the name, “Joe Nara!” before
he caught himself. Then he heard his father speak
calmly in reply.</p>
<p>“If you are really Joe Nara,” stated Mr. Brewster,
“I’ll tell you all you want to know. Only I don’t believe
that you are Joe Nara.”</p>
<p>Oddly, the wizened man’s anger faded. His own
tone became even as he asked, “And why wouldn’t I
be Joe Nara?”</p>
<p>“Joe Nara is a husky chap,” returned Mr. Brewster,
“with dark hair, a bit gray, but not white. He’s tough,
but he doesn’t get angry and excited. He has too good
a sense of humor.”</p>
<p>Biff saw a twinkle in the wizened man’s eyes. The
scrawny face relaxed in a genuine smile. In a soft,
faraway tone, he asked, “And who told you all that?”</p>
<p>“Joe Nara’s partner, Lew Kirby, before he died.”</p>
<p>“So Lew is dead. I was afraid of that.”</p>
<p>As he spoke, the wizened man’s expression became
very sorrowful. He gestured to Ubi, and the Indian
cut the crude ropes that bound the prisoners.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_28">28</div>
<p>“I <i>am</i> Joe Nara,” the white-haired man said. “I’ve
grown a lot older in the years since I saw Lew Kirby
last. Kind of lost my sense of humor, too, living upriver
with nobody but Indians to talk to. What’s your
name?”</p>
<p>“Tom Brewster. And this is my son Biff.”</p>
<p>Mr. Brewster extended his own hand, palm up. Old
Joe Nara slapped his own hand palm downward,
meeting Mr. Brewster’s with a solid whack, followed
by a tight grip to which Mr. Brewster responded
firmly.</p>
<p>“That’s how Lew and I always shook hands,” declared
Nara. “I guess you and Lew were friends all
right, or he wouldn’t have shown you that grip.”</p>
<p>Ubi was bringing gourds of water. Nara waited
until Biff and his father had slaked their thirst. Then,
with a chuckle, the white-haired man remarked:</p>
<p>“I guess Lew must have told you about the time he
and I went to Lake Titicaca down in Peru to look for
Inca gold?”</p>
<p>“No, Kirby never told me that,” returned Mr.
Brewster, “because you never went there. He said
you planned the trip but gave it up. You came up this
way instead.”</p>
<p>“And where would we have found gold near the
headwaters of the Rio Negro?”</p>
<p>“I can tell you in two words: El Dorado.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_29">29</div>
<p>That convinced Joe Nara. He opened a door beneath
the short forward deck and revealed a compact
kitchen galley. He heated up a pot of <i>feijoada</i>, a Brazilian
dish of black beans cooked with dried meat.
With it he served bowls of <i>mandioca</i>, a mush made
from the pulp of the <i>cassava</i>.</p>
<p>Simple though the fare was, it tasted so good that
Biff eagerly accepted the second helping that Nara
offered him.</p>
<p>“I was really hungry,” said Biff. “I feel as though
I had been asleep for hours.”</p>
<p>“You were,” returned Nara. “That stuff you inhaled
is a secret Indian brew that acts like chloroform.
Gives you an appetite, though, when you do wake
up.”</p>
<p>“And just why,” asked Mr. Brewster dryly, “did
you happen to try the stuff out on us?”</p>
<p>“I’ll tell you why,” asserted Nara. “Every now and
then, I come down from the mine with Igo and Ubi
to buy supplies. Whatever I buy, I pay for with
these.”</p>
<p>From his pocket, Nara brought some small nuggets
of pure gold which clinked heavily when he trickled
them from one hand to the other.</p>
<p>“People have been trying to trail me back up to the
mine,” continued Nara, “so I bought this boat, the
<i>Xanadu</i>, from a rubber outfit that had gone broke. I
decided to come downriver to see who was spying on
me. Before I even got to Santa Isabel, I saw a crew
unloading supplies at an old abandoned camp.”</p>
<p>“Whitman’s crew!” exclaimed Mr. Brewster. “I sent
them up the Rio Negro to wait for me, so I could
start on a safari to find your mine.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_30">30</div>
<p>Nara gave an understanding chuckle.</p>
<p>“I had Igo and Ubi talk to the natives,” Nara said.
“They learned that the expedition had started from a
boathouse outside of Manaus. So I came all the way
down the river to look into it. We were watching
the boathouse when you came along.”</p>
<p>“So you thought we were enemies—”</p>
<p>“Not exactly enemies,” corrected Nara. “Just suspicious
characters. After Igo and Ubi grabbed you, I
decided to bring you along. Now that you’ve explained
yourselves, I’ll turn around and take you back
down to Manaus if you want.”</p>
<p>“Now that we’ve started upriver,” decided Mr.
Brewster, “there is no need to go back. We sent our
luggage on to Santa Isabel by air, and we intended to
take a plane ourselves. But now we may as well keep
on with you.”</p>
<p>All that day, the <i>Xanadu</i> sped swiftly up the Rio
Negro. Biff took his turn at the wheel and was pleased
by the way the cruiser handled. At intervals, the river
became so thick with islands that it reminded Biff of
the famous Narrows that he had seen from the air
above the lower Amazon. But here on the Rio Negro,
the channels were shallow as well as twisty. Still,
Biff found no difficulty in guiding the sleek craft
through the maze.</p>
<p>“The <i>Xanadu</i> was built to order for this river,”
Nara told Biff. “That’s why I bought her. Be careful,
though, when we reach that island dead ahead. The
channel appears to split there—”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_31">31</div>
<div class="fig"> <ANTIMG src="images/p001.jpg" alt="" width-obs="500" height-obs="682" /> <p class="caption"><i>The</i> Xanadu <i>thrummed upriver</i></p> </div>
<div class="pb" id="Page_32">32</div>
<p>As Nara spoke, the palm-fringed island vanished.
The whole sky had opened in one tremendous downpour.
Biff couldn’t believe that it was only rain. He
thought for the moment that the <i>Xanadu</i> had come
beneath a tremendous waterfall. Adding to the illusion
was the sudden rise of steam from the heated
jungle that flanked the channel. Instantly, the speeding
cruiser was shrouded in a mist that swelled above
it.</p>
<p>“Swing her about!” shrilled Nara. “Our only
chance is to turn downstream before the flood hits
us!”</p>
<p>Mr. Brewster stepped up and took the wheel. Instead
of taking Nara’s advice, he sped the boat straight
upstream, picking his course in an amazing fashion.
Somehow, he must have gauged the exact position of
the threatening island, for he veered past it. New
channels seemed to open with each swerve of the
cruiser’s bow.</p>
<p>Biff’s father had seen Navy service in the South
Pacific and was familiar with jungle waterways as
well as tropical storms. As a Lieutenant, Junior Grade,
he had been trained specially for jungle fighting and
had won medals for bravery, finally leaving the service
as a Lieutenant Commander.</p>
<p>“It’s better to buck the current,” Mr. Brewster declared,
“than to let it carry us into something we
can’t avoid.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_33">33</div>
<p>Igo and Ubi were releasing curtains from beneath
the permanent top, giving the cruiser’s interior the
effect of a long, narrow tent, completely sheltered
from the terrific downpour, which like many tropical
rains, was coming straight downward.</p>
<p>Some of the narrow channels were flooding rapidly,
and there, big logs and branches occasionally met the
cruiser’s rounded prow, only to glance aside as Mr.
Brewster deftly turned the wheel. They reached a
wider channel where a headland bulked suddenly in
midstream; but it proved to be a small floating island,
composed of small palm trees sprouting from a mass
of soil and undergrowth that had come loose from
an overhanging bank.</p>
<p>Biff could hear the chatter of monkeys and the
screech of birds as the passing branches scraped the
hanging canvas on the cruiser’s side. Then the tiny islet
and its excited living freight had drifted far downstream.
Still Mr. Brewster kept steadily to his course,
staring upstream through the cruiser’s rainswept windshield.</p>
<p>Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the rain ended,
revealing a new maze of channels that could be found
only by looking for gaps among the tree branches,
so high had the water risen in this sunken area. Cutting
the speed, Mr. Brewster navigated the openings
gingerly. That brought a chuckle from Joe Nara.</p>
<p>“Kind of lucky, weren’t you?” he remarked.</p>
<p>“Yes, I was rather lucky,” acknowledged Mr.
Brewster. “Like you and Lew Kirby, when you stumbled
onto that mine of yours.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_34">34</div>
<p>“We were more than lucky,” retorted Nara. “We
were smart. Didn’t Lew tell you how we doped it
out?”</p>
<p>“He said you ran into a tribe of Indians who were
guarding a mountain that they claimed was sacred.”</p>
<p>“That’s right. Wai Wai Indians. Igo and Ubi are
members of the tribe.” Nara gestured toward the
stolid pair who now were rolling up the canvas curtains.
“What else did Lew say?”</p>
<p>“He said you convinced the Indians that you were
a powerful witch doctor, so they led you to the lost
mine.”</p>
<p>“From the tricks I showed them,” chuckled Nara,
“they thought I was El Dorado the Original, and that
the mine belonged to me and Lew. You know the
story of the man who turned all golden? Well, I
proved it could be done.”</p>
<p>Biff was hoping that Nara would give more details
on that subject, when suddenly, the white-haired man
demanded:</p>
<p>“Did Lew give you a map to locate the mine?”</p>
<p>“Not exactly,” replied Mr. Brewster. “He gave me
one showing a route from the mine to some waterways
which he said led to the Orinoco River. That
was all.”</p>
<p>“That was enough. It proved there was a short way
out.”</p>
<p>“Yes, but I still have to go over the actual route to
make sure that gold ore could be transported by it,
down the Orinoco.”</p>
<p>“Do you have the map with you now?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_35">35</div>
<p>“Only part of it.”</p>
<p>From deep in his pocket, Mr. Brewster produced
the torn corner from Kirby’s map.</p>
<p>“A prowler stole the rest from my hotel room,” he
explained. “I managed to hold on to the part that
shows the mine.”</p>
<p>Joe Nara stroked his chin in worried fashion.</p>
<p>“If somebody showed me the rest of the map,” he
commented, “I might have to believe them if they
said they knew Lew Kirby, too.”</p>
<p>“I thought of that,” returned Mr. Brewster calmly,
“and I would be glad if such a person should appear.
It would be a case of a thief trapping himself.”</p>
<p>Joe Nara nodded as though he agreed; but he immediately
dropped the subject of the map and the
mine as well.</p>
<p>During the next few days, the <i>Xanadu</i> thrummed
upriver, keeping to broad channels instead of short-cuts
between islands. This simplified the handling of
the cruiser during brief but heavy rainstorms. Biff
noted that after each rain the air soon became as humid
as before. It was hot at night as well as in the
daytime, and while one member of the group piloted
the cruiser under the bright tropical moon, the others
slept in the ample cockpit; never in the tiny forward
cabin.</p>
<p>One evening when Nara was at the wheel, Biff
and his father were seated near the stern, far enough
away for Biff to ask:</p>
<p>“Do you think Joe Nara doubts your story, Dad?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_36">36</div>
<p>“About the map being stolen?” returned Mr. Brewster.
“He might be wondering about it. After all, I
could have torn the corner from a map that belonged
to someone else.”</p>
<p>“But you gave him Kirby’s hand grip and when you
mentioned ‘El Dorado’ it was like a password.”</p>
<p>“I could have learned those from some other person.
Nara has to be cautious, with a gold mine at stake.
I think he trusts me but wants to sound me out. Watch
him, and you’ll see he is suspicious of everything.”</p>
<p>Biff noted that as the trip continued, Nara insisted
upon giving other river craft a wide berth. When occasional
airplanes flew high above, Nara always
leaned out from beneath the canopy to study them
suspiciously, but the planes apparently took no notice
of the boat below.</p>
<p>After the cruiser had passed Santa Isabel, Biff was
taking his turn at the wheel when Nara approached
and remarked:</p>
<p>“Pretty soon we’ll drop you and your dad at the
old rubber camp where your friend Whitman is waiting
for you.”</p>
<p>“Aren’t you going to join us on the safari?”</p>
<p>“Not there,” returned Nara. “I’m taking the
<i>Xanadu</i> on to Sao Gabriel, to see if we can buck the
rapids and reach the upper river.”</p>
<p>Mr. Brewster had been close enough to hear Nara’s
comment. Now, he put the query:</p>
<p>“Then where will we meet you, Joe?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_37">37</div>
<p>“At Piedra Del Cucuy,” Nara replied. “You can see
it for miles, a big rock rising from the forest, where
Brazil, Venezuela, and Colombia all meet up. By the
time you arrive there, we will know if it is safe to go
on.”</p>
<p>“Why wouldn’t it be safe?” asked Biff.</p>
<p>“Because of the Macus, the head-hunters who raid
the river settlements.” Nara turned to his two Indians
and said: “Tell them about the Macus.”</p>
<p>“Macu very bad,” stated Igo.</p>
<p>“Macu kill for head,” added Ubi.</p>
<p>At last the <i>Xanadu</i> reached an old, dilapidated landing,
where half a dozen men stood beside some huts
on the high bank. Mr. Brewster indicated one man
who was wearing khaki shorts, white shirt, and pith
helmet.</p>
<p>“That’s Whitman,” said Mr. Brewster. “He’s too
far away to hail him.” He brought out a leather case
containing a flat metal mirror and handed it to Biff.</p>
<p>“Whitman understands Morse,” Mr. Brewster said.
“Signal him to send out a boat for us, Biff.”</p>
<p>Biff turned the mirror toward the sun, then slanted
it in Whitman’s direction. Covering the mirror with
his hand, he flashed the message in dots and dashes:
S-E-N-D B-O-A-T.</p>
<p>Whitman pointed to a canoe on the shore. Biff
watched two figures hurry down and clamber into
the craft, a small figure at the bow, a big one in the
stern. They paddled out to the waiting cruiser and
swung alongside. The man in the stern, a husky, barrel-chested
native, furnished a broad, friendly smile.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_38">38</div>
<p>“Me Jacome,” he announced.</p>
<p>The bow paddler was an Indian boy about Biff’s
age and size. He was wearing faded blue denim trousers,
ragged at the knees, and a shirt that matched it in
color and tattered sleeves. He reached up to grab the
cruiser’s side, adding, “I’m Kamuka.”</p>
<p>Biff extended his own hand and responded, “I’m
Biff.” In that unexpected handshake, the two boys established
an immediate friendship. They grinned at
each other as Biff helped Kamuka swing the canoe
about so that Jacome could hold the stern alongside.</p>
<p>As soon as Biff and his father stepped into the canoe
the <i>Xanadu</i> sped off like a startled creature. Joe Nara
at the wheel, waved good-by, while Igo and Ubi
simply stared back like a pair of reversed figureheads.
Jacome and Kamuka did fast work with their paddles
to prevent the canoe from tipping in the cruiser’s
swell. Then they headed toward the dock.</p>
<p>Kamuka looked over his shoulder and said to Biff,
“I like the way you send message. You show me
how?”</p>
<p>Biff nodded. “I’ll show you how.”</p>
<p>During the short paddle, Mr. Brewster talked to
Jacome in Portuguese and Biff, listening closely, understood
most of what was said. Mr. Brewster asked
about the luggage and was told that it had arrived
by air. Also, he wanted to know if the safari was
ready to start. Jacome told him yes, that they had
been waiting for him to arrive.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_39">39</div>
<p>When they reached the shore, Hal Whitman was
still up by the huts engaged with the natives in an excited
conversation. Mr. Brewster started in that direction,
and Biff was about to follow when a hand
plucked his sleeve. It was Kamuka, with the request:</p>
<p>“You spell message now?”</p>
<p>“All right,” agreed Biff. He produced the mirror,
caught the sun’s glint, and focused it on the wall of a
hut perhaps a hundred feet away. “Now, watch—”</p>
<p>Biff halted abruptly. A burly native, wearing baggy
white shirt and trousers, with a red bandanna tied
about his head, had joined the argument and was pushing
Mr. Whitman back into the hut.</p>
<p>“Urubu!” exclaimed Kamuka. “He make trouble!”</p>
<p>Whitman came from the hut with a shotgun and
gestured for the native, Urubu, to be on his way. Instead,
Urubu grabbed for the gun and snatched it
from Whitman’s grasp, tripping him at the same time.
Mr. Brewster was starting forward on the run, but he
was too far away to help Whitman.</p>
<p>Urubu raised the gun butt to drive it down on
Whitman’s head. Biff could see the savage look on
Urubu’s face. Kamuka gripped Biff’s arm. The native
boy’s voice was breathless:</p>
<p>“Somebody must help Mr. Whitman! Quick!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_40">40</div>
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