“They were steaming out of the station before Maia asked, 'Was it books in the trunk?'
'It was books, admitted Miss Minton.
And Maia said, 'Good.”
“I would let her...have adventures. I would let her...choose her path. It would be hard...it was hard...but I would do it. Oh, not completely, of course. Some things have to go on. Cleaning one's teeth, arithmetic. But Maia fell in love with the Amazon. It happens. THe place was for her - and the people. Of course there was some danger, but there is danger everywhere. Two years ago, in this school, there was an outbreak of typhus, and three girls died. CHildren are knocked down and killed by horses every week, here in these streets--" She broke off, gathering her thoughts. "When she was traveling and exploring...and finding her songs, Maia wasn't just happy, she was...herself. I think something broke in Maia when her parents died, and out there it healed. Perhaps I'm mad--and the professor too-- but I think children must lead big lives...if it is in them to do so.”
“...Adventures, once they were over, were things that had to stay inside one--that no one else could quite understand.”
“Those who think of the Amazon as a Green Hell,” she read in an old book with a tattered spine, “bring only their own fears and prejudices to this amazing land. For whether a place is a hell or a heaven rests in yourself, and those who go with courage and an open mind may find themselves in Paradise.”
“As Maia turned to go, hardly believing that there could be such happiness, she heard a loud splash. Miss Minton was leaning over the side, watching the parcel she had held on her knees floating away downriver.
“What was that?” asked Maia.
Miss Minton straightened herself.
If you must know,” she said, “it was my corset.”
“It was his time with the Xanti which had changed him. They thought that everyone’s life was like a river; you had to flow with the current and not struggle, which wasted breath and made you more likely to drown.”
“She realized that adventures, once they were over, were things that had to stay inside one--that no one else could quite understand.”
“When you know what you want you usually get it.”
“Miss Minton knew she was going to be dismissed, and she thought this was perfectly fair. A governess who let her charge sail up the rivers of the Amazon and live with Indian tribes could hardly expect to keep her job.”
“You’ll never know what you’ve done for me,” he said as they reached the gates of the level crossing. “If there’s anything you want--”
Clovis grinned. “Can I have Maia when she’s grown up?”
Finn’s smile vanished in an instant.
“No,” he said.”
“What do you mean to do with Maia when you do find her?” the professor asked that night.
“Take her back to the Keminskys and never let her out of my sight again,” said Miss Minton.
“She may not find it easy.”
“Why on earth not? The Keminskys are the kindest people in the world.”
“Yes. But she has tasted freedom.”
“Maia had been sitting absolutely still on a chair in the hall, waiting.
Now she heard a loud peal on the street bell and turned to see a dark, wild-haired boy running up the steps. Taking no notice of the flustered maid, he came up to Maia.
“I’m going home, Maia,” shouted Finn. “I’m going home!”
Upstairs a door had opened, and Miss Minton came slowly down the stairs, dabbing her eyes.
Then she drew herself up to her full height.
“We are all going home,” she said.”
“Then Furo’s canoe came through the reeds and Maia hugged Clovis and said good-bye. If everything went according to plan, he would be on the boat the day after tomorrow, and it was hard leaving him.
“But I expect you’ll come to England, won’t you?” Clovis said. He had given her the address of his foster mother. “I wish you were coming now,” he said, and his eyes filled with tears.
As Finn helped Maia into the boat, he leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “Don’t worry about Clovis,” he said. “I’ll see he’s all right. I won’t let him get too scared, I promise.”
And Maia nodded and got into the canoe and was paddled away.”
“I’m sorry you never got my note that night,” said Minty. “I was arranging for us to go and live with them. You’ll like that, won’t you?” she asked Maia.
Maia was silent, looking down at her plate.
“Of course she will,” jeered Finn. “Sergei will be able to kneel at her feet like a person in a book.”
“That settles it,” said Mr. Trapwood. “We’re going back to the pension. We’re going to pack. We’re going to be on the Bishop first thing tomorrow. Sir Aubrey will have to send someone else out. Nothing is worth another day in this hellhole.”
Mr. Low did not answer. He had caught a fever and was lying in the bottom of a large canoe owned by the Brothers of the São Gabriel Mission, who had arranged for the crows to be taken back to Manaus. His eyes were closed and he was wandering a little in his mind, mumbling about a boy with hair the color of the belly of the golden toad which squatted on the lily leaves of the Mamari River.
There had, of course, been no golden-haired boys; there hadn’t been any boys at all. What there had been was a leper colony, run by the Brothers of Saint Patrick, a group of Irish missionaries to whom the crows had been sent.
“They’re good men, the Brothers,” a man on the docks had told them as they set off on their last search for Taverner’s son. “They take in all sorts of strays--orphans, boys with no homes. If anyone knows where Taverner’s lad might be, it’ll be them.”
Then he had spat cheerfully into the river because he was a crony of the chief of police and liked the idea of Mr. Low and Mr. Trapwood spending time with the Brothers, who were very holy men indeed and slept on the hard ground, and ate porridge made from manioc roots, and got up four times in the night to pray.
The Brothers’ mission was on a swampy part of the river and very unhealthy, but the Brothers thought only about God and helping their fellowmen. They welcomed Mr. Trapwood and Mr. Low and said they could look over the leper colony to see if they could find anyone who might turn out to be the boy they were looking for.
“They’re a jolly lot, the lepers,” said Father Liam. “People who’ve suffered don’t have time to grumble.”
But the crows, turning green, thought there wouldn’t be much point. Even if there was a boy there the right age, Sir Aubrey probably wouldn’t think that a boy who was a leper could manage Westwood.
Later a group of pilgrims arrived who had been walking on foot from the Andes and were on their way to a shrine on the Madeira River, and the Brothers knelt and washed their feet.
“We know you’ll be proud to share the sleeping hut with our friends here,” they said to Mr. Low and Mr. Trapwood, and the crows spent the night on the floor with twelve snoring, grunting men--and woke to find two large and hungry-looking vultures squatting in the doorway.
By the time they returned to Manaus the crows were beaten men. They didn’t care any longer about Taverner’s son or Sir Aubrey, or even the hundred-pound bonus they had lost. All they cared about was getting onto the Bishop and steaming away as fast as it could be done.”
“Knowing it was her last night on the Arabella, Maia fought against sleep. She must remember it all--the lapping of the water against the side of the boat, the white moths, the fireflies…
Finn, too, was awake. “When we’re grown up I’ll come back for you, I promise. No one can stop us then.”
But she wasn’t grown up and nor was he, and Finn was going on alone. The professor had tried to persuade him to come back with them, but Finn only said, “I promised my father I’d go and find the Xanti. I promised.”
Now, though, lying in the dark, he realized how much he hated the idea of going on by himself. He wasn’t afraid exactly; he knew he could do it--but it suddenly seemed utterly dismal to go on without his friend.
“We could still run away into the forest,” said Maia.
But Finn said no. “Minty really cares about you. The professor told me she nearly went mad when she thought you’d been killed in the fire. You can’t play tricks on her--or on him. They’re good people. It’s just…oh, why can’t grown-ups understand that we might know what is right for us just as well as they do?”
“There had, of course, been no golden-haired boys; there hadn’t been any boys at all. What there had been was a leper colony, run by the Brothers of Saint Patrick, a group of Irish missionaries to whom the crows had been sent.”
“Knowing it was her last night on the Arabella, Maia fought against sleep. She must remember it all--the lapping of the water against the side of the boat, the white moths, the fireflies…
Finn, too, was awake. “When we’re grown up I’ll come back for you, I promise. No one can stop us then.”
“People who’ve suffered don’t have time to grumble.”
“When we’re grown up I’ll come back for you, I promise. No one can stop us then.”
“They’re a jolly lot, the lepers,” said Father Liam. “People who’ve suffered don’t have time to grumble.”
“In another couple of hours we can go on board.”
He looked longingly at the lighted ship, ready for her start at dawn. She looked so clean, so nice, so British…
Mr. Low came to stand beside him. “Decent bunks, decent food, people speaking English. You can’t believe it.”
But in spite of the relief of being on the way home, the crows were broken men. Mr. Low was still feverish, Mr. Trapwood’s insect bites had spread in an infected mass over his face and neck, and neither of them could keep down their food.”
“The children slept late, and washed and dressed almost in silence. Both of them were afraid to speak. Maia packed her belongings in an old canvas bag and stroked the dog.
“I’ll come over in a minute to say good-bye,” said Finn.
The Carters’ boat was ready to leave, breakfast tidied away, ropes coiled. The professor was sorting out the firebox and feeding in fresh logs. Miss Minton, sitting in the stern, had a parcel wrapped in burlap on her knees.
“I’m ready,” said Maia, trying to keep her voice steady. She mustn’t cry. Above all, she mustn’t sulk. “Finn’s coming over to say good-bye.”
“No need,” said Miss Minton.
“He’d like to.”
“All the same, there is no need.”
Maia looked at her governess. Miss Minton seemed different…Softer? Rounder? More at peace?
“Why?” she asked. “Why is there no need?”
“Because we’re coming with you. We’re going on. Get back on the Arabella and tell Finn we’ll follow three lengths behind.”
As Maia turned to go, hardly believing that there could be such happiness, she heard a loud splash. Miss Minton was leaning over the side, watching the parcel she had held on her knees floating away downriver.
“What was that?” asked Maia.
Miss Minton straightened herself.
If you must know,” she said, “it was my corset.”
“Clovis straightened himself. He squared his shoulders. He tossed back his curls. Then slowly, with immense dignity, he climbed the cellar steps.
“Unhand my servant, please,” he ordered the crows. “As you see, I am Finn Taverner.”
The crows let go of the Indian. They stared at the golden-haired youth who had appeared at the top of the cellar steps. The boy’s breeding showed in every movement; he was an undoubted and true aristocrat. Here before them was The Blood which Sir Aubrey longed for, and they were filled with joy.
The boy now addressed his servant. “You have served me well, Kumari,” he said--and every word was crystal clear; the words of a perfect English gentleman, speaking slowly to a foreigner. “Now I give you your freedom. And with it, this token of my thanks.”
And out of the pocket of his tunic he took a watch on a long chain which he handed to the Indian.
“But, sir,” said Mr. Trapwood, who had seen the glint of silver. “Should you--”
“I am a Taverner,” said Clovis. “And no one shall say that I am not grateful to those who have served me. And now, gentlemen, I am ready. I take it you have reserved a first-class cabin for me?”
“Well,” began Mr. Low.
Mr. Trapwood kicked his shin. “It shall be arranged, sir,” he said. “Everything will be taken care of.”
“Good. I should like to go on board immediately.”
“Yes, sir, of course. If you’ll just come with us.”
Clovis bowed to Miss Minton, then to Maia. His eyes were dry and his dignity was matchless.
Then he followed the crows out of the museum.”
“Right,” she said. “Come down off that chair. I think we are ready for the next step.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am going to see Mrs. Carter tomorrow. I shall tell her that you are not able to keep up with the twins in lessons.”
“But--”
Miss Minton held up her hand. “Don’t interrupt, please. I shall tell her that I will set you to work separately because you are holding the twins back. That means I am trusting you to work on your own. I shall, of course, help you whenever I can, but you must keep up the deception.” She gave one of her tight smiles. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t have an interesting time. I have a book about the history of Brazil, and one by Bates, the explorer who first described this part of the Amazon. And another by Humboldt--a very great scientist. The twins may live as though they are still in Littleford-on-Sea, but there is no need for us to do so.”
Maia jumped from the chair. “Oh, Minty,” she said, and threw her arms around her governess. “Thank you. I’m sorry…I thought--”
“Well don’t,” said Miss Minton briskly. And then: “Come along, it’s time we opened my trunk.”
Miss Minton had been poor all her life. She had no trinkets, no personal possessions; her employers underpaid her when they paid her at all--but her trunk was an Aladdin’s cave. There were travel books and fairy tales, novels and dictionaries and collections of poetry…
“How did you get them all?” Maia asked wonderingly. “How did you manage?”
Miss Minton shrugged.
“If you want something enough you usually get it. But you have to take what goes with it”--and she pointed to her shabby blouse and mended skirt. “Now, let’s see---what shall we start with? Ah yes, here is Bates. He must have sailed down this very river not sixty years ago. Look at that drawing of a sloth…”
“If you want something enough you usually get it. But you have to take what goes with it.”
“How did you know? How did you know who I was as soon as you saw me come out of the trapdoor in the museum?”
“You’re so like your father. The eyes, the way your voice is pitched. He wasn’t much older than you are now when he ran away from Westwood. And I knew he’d married an Indian woman and had a son; we kept in touch. So when I saw that the crows had caught you, I realized your plan had gone wrong.”
“You mean you knew what we were planning?” said Maia--not at all pleased.
“More or less. Your acting skills are not very great,” said Miss Minton, “And as a liar you are bottom of the class. I made friends with old Lila, and when she realized that I knew Bernard, she told me about this place. But you seemed to know what you were doing, so I left you to it.”
“We did know what we were doing,” said Finn. “But Clovis just went berserk when he got down to the cellar. Some skulls came tumbling out of a packing case, and he saw these eye sockets staring at him. Then he fell over a throwing spear and the lamp kept going out. There was a weird moaning noise, too--it was only the water pipes--but he got hysterical and said he felt sick and he couldn’t go through with it. I suppose it was sort of stage fright--he really thought the crows were going to hurt him. I’d promised Maia I wouldn’t let him get too scared, so I stayed. I meant to make a dash for it when the crows opened the door and lead them away from him. When the sloth fell over he thought it was a bomb!”
“Poor Clovis,” said Maia.
“She’s always sticking up for him,” said Finn.
“Still, he gave a fine performance at the end, you must admit,” said Miss Minton.”
“Colonel da Silva was particularly upset. All the trouble he had taken to lead the crows astray had come to nothing. He felt he had failed his old friend Bernard, and he was going to miss Finn.
“I’d better go and see what’s to be done about the Arabella,” he said to his second-in-command. “And all Taverner’s things. The dog’ll go wild, I imagine; he can fend for himself.” He sighed. “I’ll go next week--the Indians will see that no one steals anything. And if those wretched Carter twins come again to ask about the reward, send them away with a flea in their ear. The boy hasn’t been gone three days. Nasty, moneygrubbing little worms!”
And he turned aside and spat out of the window, a thing he hadn’t done since he was a young cadet and thought spitting was the thing to do.”
“There’s no point in waiting any longer,” said Finn. “The boat is as ready as she’ll ever be. If we clear the reeds away, she’ll just get through.”
We, thought Maia bitterly. Obviously he expected her to help him clear the passage out of the lagoon, and then he’d wave good-bye and she’d never see him again.
“If it had been the other way round, I’d have taken you,” she said.
“I suppose you think that makes it easier for me,” said Finn angrily.
“I wasn’t trying to make it easier for you,” said Maia, and stalked away.”
“One afternoon when the children were on their own, they saw that the macaws on the tree that guarded the entrance had flown up, squawking.
But it was not Furo come to fetch Maia. It was Colonel da Silva with his second-in-command, come to take charge of Bernard Taverner’s posessions.
“Dios!” he said, paddling up to the hut. “What is this?”
So Finn explained, and when he had finished the colonel was laughing so much he looked as if he was going to fall into the water. The idea of the crows bringing a penniless actor to Westwood was the best thing he had heard in ages. “And you, senhorita,” he said to Maia. “A heroine no less.”
“It was quite obvious that without severe behavior modification, this boy would grow up to be a serial killer.”
“Better make it a good one.”
“...seek me not with your eyes, but with your soul. The soul sees what truly matters.”
“Scooping up the dress, I slip it over my head, and as it cascades to the floor. I suck my stomach for all I'm worth. Forget staying in with a good book. This Cinderella is going to the ball.”
“Not 'Don' in that I-m-sorry-and-now-you'll-forgive-me-like-you-always-do-way. Not this time, Keenan."
(Donya)”
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