A Twist of Sand

I thought at first they were elephant or buffalo, but they were trees. Glorious, welcome shade after the lidless blaze of the past two days. I am a sailor and I suppose one's eyes get used to the endless monotony of the sea, but desert is different. The sand fretted at the eyes. It seeped into every crack, it made its presence known at every footstep. Anne had plastered her face with cream and she looked like an Everest climber in reverse. She was limping a little, but still game.

No word had been spoken since we first sighted the river. Now, although the cataract was not in sight, we were at the wide sweep of sand, still unbearably bright, which is the Cunene. There was no sign of water. In a shallow bay of sand were half a dozen huge trees whose roots, on the edge of the sand, were eroded like primeval things. By some sort of tacit consent, Anne and I flopped down under one and Stein and Johann under another, about thirty yards away. They were near enough to guard us, but far enough away not to be able to hear what was being said.

Anne stretched herself back and faced away from the sun.

"I couldn't care less whether there are half a dozen suns this evening," she exclaimed wearily. "You'll have to rustle up real magic to make me interested in anything at this moment."

"Gin." I said, tasting the metallic bite of the mica dust on my palate. "Gin. And lime. And lots of ice."

"The penalty for that sort of talk on this sort of day is to be made to take off my shoes," she grinned. "If they come off, I'll never get them on again."

Stein strolled over. "Let's get some wood together for a fire, Captain. This is game country all right. I think we should dig for water, too."

It was better now than later, I decided. I got uncertainly to my feet. Stein was almost friendly as we broke off dry branches and gathered them in a heap.

"We'll start a little later tomorrow morning -- a late breakfast won't do any of us any harm," he said amiably. "Miss Nielsen has kept up very well. Now that we're at the river, the going should be easier."

I kept silent.

"You disagree, Captain?" he said quickly.

"I don't know," I replied. "I can only repeat what I said earlier, that if this had been the easy way in, someone would have done it long since."

"Baynes did," he retorted.

"He came in from the other side," I said. "North of Ohopoho there's Swartbooisdrift, but that's a couple of hundred miles upriver from here. There's a hell of a lot can happen in even twenty miles of Skeleton Coast, let alone a hundred."

"If it weren't so late, I would reconnoitre the cataract now," he said impatiently. "But we've still got to dig for water tonight."

We gathered up the wood and threw it down in a large pile between the two trees. Johann did not stir. He looked at me malevolently.

"That man will kill you without any pretext at all," said Stein conversationally, as if my death were the subject of a confidential little chat. "Remember that, if you have any ideas about me, Captain Peace. You wrecked his whole life. It's really a pity you didn't do the job properly."

I was too tired to argue.

"Look," I said, pointing out game tracks in the sand. "Those may lead us to something."

We followed the hoofmarks until they reached the far side of the sand bed. There were deep scratches in the sand, but originally the hole must have been deeper, for fresh sand had blown in. We dug with small folding shovels which had obviously come off the back of a jeep. At about four feet the sand grew damp. By dint of quick shovelling so that the sand did not run back in again, we found a shallow seepage. It seemed drinkable. We filled the canteens, although Stein carried them.

He put a match to the pile of wood as the sun sank. Facing down river, the great murky mass of the Hartmannberge lay behind me to my left and, although it was already almost dark in the river bed, a peak or two were silhouetted, still.

The fire threw a troubled, rosy glow over the white sand. There was absolute silence, except for the crackle of the flames. Anne lay where she had first sat, too weary to move. I flexed my knees and propped my back against the huge tree. Had all this been in company with Mark, the utter peace, the remoteness and the age-old quality of the African bush would have held me enthralled. As it was, my mind crawled with fear, fear because of what Stein was after -- it couldn't be just a beetle, I told myself -- again -- even scientists don't go kill-crazy like he had done just for the sake of one lost species.