The Adventurers

Chapter 2

The private quarters of Father Gordo de Montcleefe stood on tall stilts commanding the area designated the devotional compound. In the compound, the adherent natives practiced the teachings of the fathers and used their sparse free time to prepare food for storage and create artifacts for trading. Large iron braced wooden beams buttressed a deliberate architectural feature, which had the broad verandah overhang the compound.

Through a wide, shuttered window, Father de Montcleefe was able to look down on the compound and monitor the behaviour of his flock without himself being seen. This penchant to observe others grew boring as the natives, fearing the mystery of his knowledge of them, refrained from any activity that was deemed un-Christian.

On this day however, Father de Montcleefe was not spying on his flock, but instead entertaining his lovely visitor from the North - Chessery Blanchert. The wide, shaded verandah, kept cool by four native boys who operated the four punkahs from dawn until sunset, was where Chessery Blanchert reclined on a wicker lounge, sipping a cool fruit drink.

"You honour me madam with this surprise visit, although a little notice might have provided a more suitable welcome for such a distinguished personage. I trust you passed these past nights in comfort, considering."

"You underestimate your hospitality, Father. Your people literally fell over themselves seeing to my every whim."

"They are not my people; they are the Lord's." He replied piously, preening at the compliment and fluffing a silk handkerchief from his sleeve to dab at his large, veined nose. She wouldn't know that they had been warned with terrible consequences if they didn't take excellent care of the woman visiting.

"Your satisfaction pleases me, madam. Anything else I can do to make your stay more pleasurable, you have but to ask." Montcleefe leered as he pronounced the word 'stay'.

"My only desire is to interview any who come to take up my offer."

"But surely this will require intense consideration and time. Word of your- your offer will be some time in spreading." He held up both hands toward the wall of green jungle beyond the compound. "I insist you accept my offer of accommodation until you succeed or..." He dropped his arms and clasped his hands together. "Of course I wish you nothing but success. I would even gladly consider your offer myself... for the flock of course."

Chessery turned her dark eyes on the Father and allowed a small smile to shape her mouth. "I'm relying on your peop- your flock... to make that happen more quickly If delay interferes with my goal I'll simply have to take my offer to another post or mission, perhaps, las Almenas." For ten nights Chessery had camped at a small village up river, digging out as many details as she might about Montcleefe and the mission, before making her arrival. Montcleefe blanched and stood, huffily "Madam, there is nothing you cannot achieve right here that would be even remotely available at that- that heathen fortress."

He minced across to the verandah railing and stared across the compound. "I could offer you a small contingent of men for your quest, of course you would need to provide complete equipage."

Chessery rose and approached slowly. "I am more than willing to supply those provisions. But I cannot guarantee the term of the search. Your men may be gone too long if they have families here."

"My offer has no attachments; they will serve as if serving me- our Lord." He amended, stepping toward her.

"Generous to a fault, Father, and one I shall sincerely consider. Meanwhile, I think I shall allow enough time for the word to spread and see what luck provides."

"It will be the Lord's doing not luck, Madam Blanchert."

She gave a minor bow and turned, heading inside with a saucy gait, her boots clapping on the plank floor as she went. Montcleefe chewed a knuckle, fuming at the very idea of her mentioning las Almenas. He stood and went to the wall, tugging angrily on a sash cord, and waiting for his servant to answer the summons.

* * *

Morning was no different than night except it was brighter. The air hung heavily on the village and the insects delighted in sampling the taste of the frustrated men readying the boats for the trip up river. Sax tossed his pack into one of the dugouts and climbed in, taking up a position near the middle, grabbing a paddle before resetting his sweat-stained hat on his head.

Three boats with two men each pushed away from the bank and did lazy circles in the river before digging their paddles into the oncoming current. The sky was white and the sun even managed a glare off the surface of the dirty river water. Sax stayed close but not too close to the shadiest part of the river, watching warily as the occasional scaly body slithered off the muddy bank and glided toward the boats for a look.

He was used to seeing the ossified skin of the Cuvier's dwarf caiman, the smallest of the species, along with the bony eye ridge of the more abundant, speckled caiman. They were not his favourite visitor but they weren't aggressive toward boats, even the shallow dugouts they were traveling in. A few howler monkeys taunted them from the trees as they passed and they could see the branches flapping wildly as the nosy animals kept pace.

There were many places Sax would rather be, but in spite of all the discomfort and danger, there was something magical about the jungle, something he felt pulling at his appreciation and awe of its sheer magnitude and complexity. The howler monkeys passed them off to a section of the river where it widened and began a faster flow around all kinds of half sunken trees and large boulders.

The boats navigated with practiced ease and leaving the faster water, glided into a narrow bay where the remains of a small dock and a collapsing shack once housed a fisherman or a family. They pulled alongside the dock and held the boats steady while they had something to eat and drink. They had been on the river for two hours.

Jed Raddock was Sax's lieutenant, a youthful, good-humoured son of wealthy parents, who decried his decision to toss away a university scholarship for a life of adventure with his currently questionable associates. Seth Forrester's group were actually a band of mercenaries for hire, usually just on the lawful side of the line but not entirely if a situation demanded.

Jed, however, managed always to keep his principles intact and followed them regardless of the group's undertakings. This made him indispensable to Sax who held a similar view toward his own career. Others in the group were little more than paid drones willing to do anything as long as they were handily reimbursed.

Jed handed the water bottle back to the native behind him in his boat and called to Sax.

"What made you bring five of us, are you expecting trouble?"

"It's called precautionary preparation, but in this case I'm already aware of the trouble."

"The woman?"

"Yes." He didn't volunteer anything more and after considering further questions, Jed let it slide.

The sun was creeping higher in the blank sky and the shade along the riverbank diminished as they pushed up river through more and more minor eddies and rapids. One of the natives shouted a complaint and the other one laughed sharply as they watched a clumsy looking bird fly across their path and settle into a tree on the edge of the river.

"Must be a male," Sax noted. "Smell it?"

"Is that the bird? God, that's awful."

"It's a hoatzin. Natives call it, stinkbird. They don't fly much, too clumsy, as you just saw. They prefer climbing around in the branches."

"The colour certainly matches the smell," Jed laughed.

"It's all the fruit and leaves stuck in its crop. They love to eat."

"Qutamma!" The native in Sax's boat pointed as the boat pulled around a shallow bend in the river.