Caribbee(95)

Louise burst into tears. ‘I’m h-holding you up, M’sieur Renzi. Go on, I beg!’ With a sob it came out: a species of giant millipede a foot or more long with savage venom infested these forests, and a childhood terror had developed into a phobia.

‘Louise, you must come with me! Be brave!’ He held her hand and tried to pull her on but she resisted.

He took the bag, threw out the dishes, fashioned the drawstring into a bowline, and slipped it over his shoulder.

‘Forgive me, Madame,’ he said, lifted her up and plunged into the wilderness of deep green whipping fronds and soaring palms. She cried out in terror, then shut her eyes and gripped tightly as Renzi pushed on.

After they had reached deep into the tropical forest she tapped his shoulder gently. Renzi stopped and let her slide to the ground.

‘Mon cher, I am better now,’ she said, and tried to smile.

Renzi could see she was not, but accepted it for the act of courage it was. She seemed to sense his feeling and impulsively kissed him. ‘Shall we go on?’

When they’d first arrived, he’d taken a mental bearing of the centre of the small, round island and tried to stay with it as they pushed through. If this was the same kind of dense lowland rainforest as he had seen in other parts of the Caribbean the going would become difficult, but fortunately here the ground cover was more open, less intertwined, and they made progress.

An hour passed and the growth thinned. A bare upland area showed ahead. Cautiously Renzi ventured there and looked back where they’d come. Spread across his vision, and no more than a mile off, he saw a line of soldiers beating as they advanced.

‘We have to get away,’ he said urgently. ‘Where should we go? What’s to the north?’

‘Well, only another three miles. It’s where the old fort used to be,’ she panted. Her dress was soiled and she tried to smooth her dishevelled hair, somehow finding pins to put it up again.

‘Then this is where we go,’ Renzi said, and they started off once more. Gullies and outcrops slowed them but this had deterred cultivation and settlement. Their passage remained unseen.

Renzi did not mention it to Louise but he knew that their trail through the vegetation was almost certainly being picked up – and if the French were smart they would land another line of soldiers on the coast ahead, and then they would be trapped between the two. Keeping his fears to himself, he forced a gruelling pace.

The forest ended and neat rows of sugar-cane reared up. Renzi and Louise hurried down between them; at least they were making good speed. Renzi could see they were crossing to where the field ended in a cliff of sorts, the sparkling blue sea stretching placidly in every direction.

The cliff turned out to be located where a substantial ridge crossed the island. ‘This is La Grande Barre,’ Louise told him. Looking down from the vantage point, Renzi could see the flat northern end seemed to be all marshes and mangroves.

He glanced at the sun. Still too long until darkness. In the open, among the reeds and flat marshland, they would be rapidly spotted. It had to be accepted that the end was not far off.

Then, in the distance, drawn up on the grass away from the water’s edge, Renzi spotted a fisherman’s boat. ‘This way!’ he urged, and found a track down the ridge to the swampland below.

He splashed in, holding the precious bag aloft, scattering marsh birds, which cawed raucously. Heedless of the sucking mud he headed in the direction of the boat.

Louise followed gamely, her dress now in tatters.

Muscles burning, they carried on doggedly until they reached firm ground – and the boat.

Renzi’s heart sank. The craft was old; there was rainwater in the bilge and it had lain there for some time. No oars, no sail. It was of the native type, which meant that at least it was light and simple, with a single outrigger and a small mast.

‘Look!’ Louise’s sudden cry made him jerk around. ‘There!’

Along the ridge soldiers were beginning to appear. A musket popped – they had been seen.

‘Help me get this in the water!’ Renzi gasped, trying to swing the boat around.

She took one end and heaved with all her might. It hardly moved. Voices carried faintly from the ridge – they were looking for a way down.

It galvanised them and, with a superhuman effort, they had it off the grass and on the sand. ‘Hurry, two branches!’ Renzi gasped, gesturing at the palms.

He shoved the boat out into the waves where it bobbed gloriously.

‘Get in!’

Clutching the wide-leaved branches, Louise sat demurely while Renzi flung in the bag and launched the craft seawards. The branches were woefully poor oars but at least they made way against the waves.