CHAPTER IV

ROGERS’ WORK

Manaos is a surprisingly large city for one that is situated in such an out of the way place, but there is nothing bewildering or startling about it. In some respects it is very much like the larger but more backward towns of our own country but in most it is very different.

The first thing to thrust itself upon the visitor’s notice is the intense heat; all the sun’s rays seem to converge in the depression in which Manaos nestles. An inspection of the place, however, reveals compensating virtues in the form of green, shady parks, cooling fountains, and comfortable hotels for the traveller.

David was not particularly interested in the city although he took note of some of the more unusual features; he had seen Pará which had impressed him as being more attractive. He felt that enough time had been spent already in travel and in sight-seeing and he was eager to start work. So he lost no time in going to the hotel where someone from the ranch was to meet him, in accordance with the arrangements that he supposed had been made by cable before he left home.

No doubt Mr. Rice had come to welcome him personally, he thought; and he was more than disappointed to learn that such was not the case.

“Senhor Rice has not been here in weeks,” the proprietor of the hotel told him in answer to his questioning.

“But he was either to be here or to send someone,” David protested. “I am going to his ranch and they were to come for me.”

“Here is the list of patrons. You may read it. Do you recognize any of the names?”

David scanned the page of the register and admitted that the names were all unfamiliar to him.

“I would recognize only Mr. Rice’s name,” he added, “and that is not there.”

“No, the Senhor is not here.”

“Didn’t someone else say he expected me? There must be somebody here who is hunting for me right this minute.”

The Brazilian shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh, I understand now,” David explained, with a smile. “Whoever is coming hasn’t arrived. He might have been delayed accidentally or perhaps he thought the steamer was not due today. I’ll wait and everything will be all right. When I am asked for, remember that I am here. And, if a message or letter comes, give it to me without delay.”

The whole explanation seemed so simple to David. It must be exactly as he had said. It was not in the least remarkable that one should miss connections in a land lacking the elaborate facilities for travel his own country boasted. He wondered how the matter could have caused him concern and why he had not thought of the solution before.

Half an hour later he left his room and in passing through the corridor could not resist the impulse to step into the office to make another inquiry. But the answer was the same. There was nothing new, no message; nor had anyone arrived from the ranch.

“Tomorrow, probably,” he thought, “and if not then, the day after that without fail. I must learn to be patient although they should apologize for keeping me waiting.”

In the meantime, he would see what there was of interest in the city, and by asking questions learn as much as possible about the country of the hinterland.

He had not gone two blocks before he met Rogers. The latter was stopping aboard the ship; he felt sure that he could wind up his affairs during the week the vessel lay in port and had engaged passage for the return journey.

“Hello!” he greeted David cheerfully. “You still here? I thought you might be on your way to the ranch by this time.”

“No, we missed connections some way. I can’t understand why, but they have not come for me yet. But I expect them any minute.”

“Still got the fever, eh? Still want to go as badly as ever?”

“I certainly have got the fever, and the temperature is going up.”

“Say, you know what I said to you before--I think you are one foolish person.”

“Look here, Rogers,” David retorted hotly. “Why are you so concerned over my affairs? I didn’t insist on knowing what brought you here but you keep harping about my business all of the time. Now forget it.”

“If that is the way you feel, I shall not mention it again,” Rogers stammered, looking offended. “But--but just because I do not mention it will not make me feel differently about it. I am sorry you are so set on doing something you will surely regret.”

“Good-bye.” David wanted to fight but he dared not, remembering past experiences and their consequences, so he quickly continued on his way.

Three days passed and still David remained unsought by anyone from the ranch. The fact began to worry him.

He had spent the time alternately waiting in the hotel and tramping the streets. The very sight of the Teatro Nacional, at first so imposing on its built-up pedestal that covers an entire city block; the plazas with their tropical trees, shrubs and dazzling flowers; the hot, winding streets; and the parrots shrieking and squawking from their perches in the doorways of the squat, thick-walled buildings; all began to pall on him. He had not come all that distance to see cities; if that had been his desire he might have remained at home. What he longed for was the great outdoors and the myriad, varied possibilities it brought with it.

Why did not they come or at least communicate with him? he asked himself again and again. He could bear the suspense no longer. He would communicate with them.

The telephone occurred to him first of all as the most rapid means but, of course, there was no service to Las Palmas. Nor was it possible to send a telegram. A letter was the only thing he could think of; but when they called for the letter they would also come for him. So there was in reality no way of communicating with them after all.

In desperation, he went to the owner of the hotel and told him what was on his mind.

“If they knew you were coming and wanted you at Las Palmas, they would have been here,” the latter said. “What do you expect to do there, anyway? My advice would be to go back home, if you asked me. You will be better off there.”

“Good Heavens! This is beginning to look like a conspiracy of some kind,” David started, but checked himself. Again the visions of past experiences loomed up before him. He would endure almost anything rather than take a single chance of spoiling this new and greatest of all ventures. So he turned and walked away.

“I know what I’ll do,” he decided. “I’ll see the American Consul. He will fix me up.”

Just as he turned to enter the doorway beneath the shield that served as the guiding sign to the consul’s office he almost collided with Rogers coming out.

They exchanged greetings and each went his way.

After waiting a few minutes in the anteroom he was admitted to the official’s presence and briefly explained his mission. The consul listened impatiently for a minute and then interrupted the recital.

“You will never get on there,” he said. “It is no place for an American without practical experience. Las Palmas is a particularly bad place and Rice is a terrible person--they call him the viper.”

David was boiling within, but said nothing, so the official continued:

“The ranch is a new one, just being opened up. No one but the natives and Indians can do the clean-up work that is in progress now. You would die in a little while if you tried it. I will fix up your passport and you start back on the next boat.”

“I see,” said David simply, without betraying his feeling. “Thank you for your offer but I cannot accept it just now for I am certainly not going back home. I came to stay.”

“Stay and you will be sorry.”

“That’s up to me. And if Mr. Rogers comes to see you again, give him a passport. I intend to see to it that he leaves the country on the next boat.”

The air in the street lacked the cooling quality necessary to restore David’s ruffled temper. Heat-waves rose from the flag-stones and smote him in the face and the slight eddies that whirled around the corners could have come out of the mouth of a furnace--they were so stifling.

The truth of the whole matter dawned upon David at last. Rogers was the cause of all the discouragements he had met. The business upon which he had come was to try to persuade him to return home. He had been sent for that purpose. He chuckled grimly as he thought how Rogers would have to report failure of his mission. They would see that he was not a quitter. He did not blame his father for guarding his welfare but he would prove to the world that he could look after his own interest in any place and under any circumstances. The newly acquired knowledge made him more determined than ever. So, as he returned to his lodgings a plan formed itself in his mind; he would put it into effect without delay. There was but one other matter that had to be attended to first. He must see that Rogers actually sailed on the departing steamer; with him out of the way, the rest would be easy.

A full hour before the ship was due to leave, David went aboard. And about the first person he met on deck was Rogers.

“I came to see you off,” he said in a friendly manner.

Rogers looked at him with a puzzled expression on his face.

“You _are_ going, aren’t you?”

“Why, yes, I guess so.”

“Seems to me you ought to know for sure. If you don’t, I will tell you. You _are_. I am on to your game. The best thing for you to do is not to waste any more time. Tell them back home I am all right; and that you did your best to discourage me but--you know the result. I am sending letters on this same boat. Now, good-bye, and have a nice trip. I am going to wait at the dock until you are out of sight.”

For a moment Rogers did not know what to say. Then he extended his hand.

“Good-bye,” he said simply.

“No hard feelings so far as I am concerned. You went to a lot of trouble for nothing.”

“I am sorry, that is all.” Rogers appeared dejected. “And I can only hope that you will reconsider the matter before it is too late. Remember how they feel about it back home.”

David went ashore and waited. It was with a feeling of relief that he saw the ship move out into the river at last, with Rogers at the rail waving a last farewell. When the vessel finally disappeared from view he turned his steps toward that section of the riverbank where a number of launches were tied up, with their crews either aboard or on the bank.

“Where can I hire a boat?” he asked one of the men. “I want to go a short distance up the river.”

“There is the _capitain_,” the sailor replied, pointing to a man dressed exactly like the others but wearing an officer’s cap on his head.

David repeated the question to the person indicated.

“Where to?” he asked.

“The ranch Las Palmas.”

“Why don’t you go on one of the Las Palmas launches?” the captain asked abruptly.

“I would if I knew where to find one. But I have been waiting a number of days and none of their boats has put in here,” David explained.

“I will show you one. See that gray launch right over there, the _Aguila_? That belongs to the ranch.”

David could have shouted for joy. They had come for him at last. He hurried to the _Aguila_. Perhaps Mr. Rice had come in person to greet him. This was luck indeed! Probably he had hurried to the hotel with apologies for the delay; but no need for that inasmuch as he had finally come and the long wait was over. There was the possibility, however, that he was still aboard the launch.

By the time David reached the boat it was almost impossible to suppress his eagerness and excitement.

“The _Aguila_ comes from Las Palmas,” he began, “so they tell me. Is Mr. Rice on board now?”

A sailor who was washing several articles of clothing by beating them on the rocks near the water’s edge looked up.

“No,” he said. “Senhor Rice is not here. He never travels on the Aguila--it is not good enough for him.”

“Doesn’t he ever visit Manaos?”

“Yes, when there is some good reason for it but he always uses the _Indio_ which is larger and much finer; you should see it. The _Aguila_ is for the peons and the cook when they come to buy provisions.”

“Where is the _Indio_ now?” David was becoming somewhat uneasy.

“At Las Palmas.”

“Didn’t Senhor Rice say anything about coming to Manaos in the near future?”

“He never talks to the peons, so I don’t know.”

“You see,” David explained, “I am on my way to the ranch and they were to send for me.”

“_Si, Senhor._” The man now stopped washing and listened respectfully.

“Did you hear anything about that?”

“_No, Senhor._”

“When do you start back?”

“This afternoon.”

“Today?” in surprise. “When did you arrive?”

“Two days ago.”

“There must be a misunderstanding somewhere. I have been waiting a good many days and this is the first I heard of your coming, and that was by accident. Who is in charge of the boat?”

“The captain. He went with the others to get some rice and other things. He will be back soon.”

“I’ll wait, then.”

“Yes, Senhor,” and the man resumed his washing.

Here was a new predicament he had not counted on. For a while he racked his brain in an effort to disentangle the puzzle, but it was of no avail. He was compelled to give it up. There was certainly a mix-up somewhere and that was all there was to it. By and by it would be all cleared up and he would then laugh at his present anxiety and vexation.

The captain arrived before very long, followed by three men carrying heavy bags on their shoulders. He was a thick-set, burly fellow and one could tell at a glance that he was accustomed to giving orders which others dared not hesitate long in obeying. A stubby beard covered the greater part of his face effectually, concealing his features--all but the eyes--small, black and penetrating. A flat cap with a long peak was perched on the top of his head, the black hair, touched with gray, appearing under the rim in a dense, unkempt ring.

That head-dress, David was to learn later, was typical of the masters of the smaller river craft and was their only badge of position and authority for, otherwise, they were dressed exactly like their ragged crews.

David did not like the looks of the swarthy newcomer. But that did not matter. He wanted to get to Las Palmas and the man possessed the means of getting him there.

“My name is David Jones and I am from New York,” he said by way of greeting. “I have been waiting a long time for you.”

“Me? Why have you been waiting for me? What do you want?” the captain asked in surprise.

“I want to get to the ranch. Didn’t Mr. Rice instruct you to bring me out?”

“I don’t know anything about it. Nobody said a word to me.”

“Well,” David tried to conceal his impatience with a laugh, “I am expected at the ranch and I want to get there so soon as possible. I can have my baggage here in fifteen minutes.”

The captain was looking at him sharply, even suspiciously.

“Do you think this is a passenger boat?” he asked. “We don’t carry strangers without a written order from the boss.”

“But this is different,” David protested. “I am not a stranger. They are looking for me. Mr. Rice must have misunderstood the date or he would have been here personally.”

“That is not my fault,” said the captain gruffly.

“But I can go with you, can’t I?”

“No! If you knew the boss you would not ask me to take you. He is awful when anyone does a thing he don’t like. He killed a man for that very thing last week.”

“I am not afraid he’ll kill me.”

“Neither am I. I don’t care what happens to you but I do care what happens to me.”

“How soon is the _Aguila_ coming back to Manaos?” said David in despair.

“Not for six months. Next week she starts on a long trip to carry supplies to the rubber camps upriver.”

“And the _Indio_?”

“The _Indio_ has a broken propeller. They sent for a new one but it generally takes a year to get anything from abroad.”

“Say,” David was wiping his face in desperation, “I have to get to Las Palmas and that is all there is to it.”

“I have nothing against it. Get there any way you like--but not on the _Aguila_.”

A sudden idea came to him. Perhaps the fellow wanted money.

“I’ll pay you well. How much do you want?” he asked.

The Brazilian straightened up; his eyes blazed.

“Are you trying to bribe me?” he bellowed, “and right in front of my men? If you are, you’re insulting me. I am paid for my work and I want none of your money. A fine person, you are, to try to buy me to disobey my chief’s orders.”

“I did nothing of the kind,” David returned hotly. “I offered you money to pay my passage because I could hardly ask a stranger to carry me for nothing.”

“Well, I accept your explanation, but you will not go, just the same. That is settled--understand? I am very busy.” This was said in such a manner that David could not fail to grasp its significance.

He was in a quandary. It was just one discouraging thing after another. Would matters ever become straightened out? He must go on that launch, for had not the burly captain told him there would not be another in months? He made one more desperate effort.

“I am going on the _Aguila_ whether you like it or not. And when I get to Las Palmas--” he began, but the captain stopped him.

“Talk all you want to, but if I catch you aboard my boat I’ll throw you into the river,” he threatened.

David looked at the man and knew he would keep his word. His mind worked fast; he thought of one other thing.

“How soon do you start?” he asked.

“In two hours.”

“Will you take a letter for me?”

“Yes, I will take a letter or as many as you want to send, but I will not take you, so don’t ask it again. Las Palmas is no place for a foreigner. It is terrible there--snakes, insects and fevers. And the boss treats us like dogs.”

David ignored these remarks.

“I’ll go to the hotel to write the letter and will bring it to you in less than an hour.”

He hastened back to his room to prepare the missive, and ignoring a first impulse to write all that had occurred during the last hour, he only stated that he had arrived and was eager to reach the ranch, but had no way of doing so.

“When Mr. Rice gets this he’ll ask the captain questions and then he’ll be furious at the way I have been treated,” he thought. “And he’ll make him turn right around and come back for me. Then it will be my turn to show off, just as he did, and it will serve him right. He will soon find out who I am.”

He hastened back to the river to deliver the letter, and as he thought the matter over he was glad he had omitted all reference to the captain, for the latter would doubtless read it and if he found anything too personal he would destroy it.

Bad as it was, his position could have been a great deal worse. It was now a question of only a few days more of waiting. That was a certainty.

But when David reached the river, breathless and perspiring, a new calamity awaited him. The _Aguila_ was gone.

He looked up and down the river; there was no sign of the boat. As he stood on the sand, too stunned to move, a sailor came up to him and spoke sympathetically.

“Are you looking for the _Aguila_?” he asked.

David subconsciously murmered assent.

“She left over half an hour ago--right after you went away.”

“Thanks.”

David turned and slowly walked away. Try as he would to banish the feeling, there was no denying the fact that his experiences were beginning to dim the glamor of the life he had longed for; and that, too, in the face of the fact that so far he had accomplished absolutely nothing.

He went to the post office and mailed the letter, hoping that somehow or other it would reach its destination.

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