residence, the puzzled missionary discovered an assortment of the hypodermics used, together with their reed needles, and phials containing the various fluids. Two of the hypodermics were of the compressed-air type. Again, without fully understanding why, Ignatious collected the hypodermics, needles and phials and put them in his pack. The liquids were familiar to him by their colourings and he knew which drugs, or poisons they contained.
In the time spent here, mostly happy, Ignatious had come to know how to use different plant types to obtain the fluids. Even in the Western world, he would be able to mix the brew from existing plant life, understanding which types would be of similar genus to those found in this sweltering place.
There was one final thing his curiosity led him to satisfy, and that was the so-called Gods. What action, if any, would they be likely to take?
Going back to the village square, he began the journey up the hillside, picking his way through the dense bushes, until he arrived at a few feet from the top. Squirming upwards, as Karakta had previously advised him, he peered carefully over the edge. The sight that greeted Ignatious stunned and shocked him.
The three pyramids were slowly and smoothly sinking into the ground, the earth around them churning and bubbling. It was clearly an organised operation was in motion. In unison they slipped further and further until a mere foot of each protruded. Stationary for many minutes, the shining peaks suddenly disappeared below ground, the churning continuing for some time. Then, all was still, peace and quietness returning. Where the amazing structures had once stood, there remained only large patches of earth showing amidst the rich green of the surrounding grasses. In less than two weeks, the area would once more be uniform, the greenery appearing totally undisturbed.
Unwilling to believe the evidence before him, Ignatious stared and stared, tears, unaccountably, slipping from his eyes. What had he just witnessed? Was it a miracle, magic, or some alien occurrence? Who could possibly know?
He shuddered and allowed himself to slip, face downwards, from the top of the rise to the bushes immediately below. Even here, he could not bring himself to move, his mind in turmoil, trying and failing, to make some sense of the scene. Eventually, he stood and made his way back to the square where he gathered his belongings and set off. On the way from the village and its lifeless occupants, he collected up some fruit to serve as sustenance over what he expected to be a difficult and tiring journey.
At the end of the village area, Ignatious turned to take one last look at the paradise that was, noticing the thin clouds of airborne insects already gathering around the buildings. His heart wept for his stricken companions, even Ottomier who had brought the tragedy upon them all. Pictures entered his mind, of Father Christian, a tough, once dedicated missionary and friend, the two young nuns whose lives had been prematurely ended, and the Australian who never got the chance to experience the happiness that, for many months, had been enjoyed by the survivors of that awful storm.
It had been a long journey with many truths being brought to the missionaries about their own vulnerabilities and failings at a time when their faiths had come to be tested. Ignatious had learned a lot, not only in practical experience, but about himself — and he felt strong; felt that he had, with only a couple of diversions, come through it all with his commitment to God in good shape. Even the deaths would send innocent people to his Maker; a good deed done.
Putting the tribal deaths out of his mind, he moved on. As he would later tell the parents of Kylie Johnson — he got up and walked off while they were sleeping.
Making his way to the clear-water river, he filled one of the animal-skin flasks with the pure liquid and secured the stopper tightly. Taking a deep breath, he walked towards the forbidding foliage that marked the beginning of the jungle.
Without the assistance of his companions, it took Ignatious until dusk to finally reach the position where the boat had been left all that time ago. Even if still there, he doubted if the craft would be in a fit state to engage the unpredictable waters.
Almost at exhaustion, he hacked his way over the final stretch of jungle and fell into the small bay. While lying on his front, he offered up prayers to the Good Lord for delivering him safely. There had been many dangers to be faced en-route, causing him to use his gradually tiring brainpower to repel the various animals; some purely mean-minded, some mischievous and two or three downright dangerous predators.
His worst moment had come when, finding it difficult to concentrate, he had been confronted by the rarely seen and deadly Bushmaster snake, the bite of which is highly poisonous. It had slithered across his path two or three times before sliding quickly and menacingly directly towards him.
Concentrating with all the power he possessed, Ignatious watched in dread as the cold reptile continued in its mission, with jaws beginning to open, ready to deliver the fatal bite. The sweat poured from the horrified priest as he realised that his powers might not, after all, be enough to save him now, when he most needed them.
‘Go! Go! Back!’ he urged in his mind, even using Spanish and Portuguese translations in his urgency, not considering that the thought-waves bore no language, being merely electrical impulses.
At a distance of no more than a foot from his exposed legs, the snake started to rise up in striking mode, the evil jaws now wider, cold, evil eyes looking at him with deep malice. And, in that position, it stopped. Ignatious braced himself for the strike that he simply did not have the energy to evade, his eyes fixed fearfully on the reptile. For several seconds, the two remained as they were and then, as if at a signal, the snake closed its mouth, dropped to its natural position and squirmed away into the dense jungle.
Rigid with fear, Ignatious remained where he was, gathering his spirits and his mind. At length, he moved but the trembling stayed with him for the next half hour, the task of hacking the foliage ultimately helping to concentrate his mind.
Raising himself wearily onto all fours, Ignatious crawled to the boat’s docking point, the backpack weighing heavily as he moved. Through the gathering dusk, he could just make out the hull of the craft. It was still here! However, he wondered, what condition would it now be in?
Using tremendous willpower, he got to his feet and stumbled to the boat. Resting on the starboard side for a few seconds, gulping in huge breaths of warm air, he summoned more strength. Slowly levering himself along, he inspected the timber structure, both outside and in.
The rear of the craft was in the water and Ignatious found himself waist-high as he checked the rear, the relative coolness of the river being most welcome to the tired and hot body. Moving from the water, along the port side, he slowly completed the task. Then he had to climb aboard and check the deck and roomy cabin.
Surprisingly, the boat was in decent condition, the thick paintwork on the outside providing ample protection. One or two of the deck boards had warped but, all in all, miraculously, it was in good shape. Too tired to continue, Ignatious gathered his belongings into the cabin and settled for the night.
Many days later, a party of naturalists setting out on a journey down the Amazon, spotted a ramshackle boat drifting aimlessly along with the current, near to the opposite banking. Steering swiftly over to it, they were surprised to find that it was occupied. The rambling man they discovered, lying on the floor of the cabin, seemed, in his delirium, not to notice their presence and it was decided to get him to the nearest hospital without delay.
The care Ignatious received was second to none and he was nursed back to something like full health over a period of two months. Whilst there, the staff had made contact with the local Catholic Church, who had verified his position as a missionary and obtained permission for the man, who they now knew as Father Gawain Hadleigh, to provide service with them until he was ready to move on. It was from here that he was summoned to an audience with the Pope and subsequently given his present orders.
