scrutinizing him gently through his spectacles.
'Good evening, my son.'
'Good evening, Father.' Bruce felt uncomfortable; they always made him
feel that way. If only, he wished with envy, I could be as certain of
one thing in my life as this man is certain of everything in his.
'Father, this is Captain Curry.' Shermaine's tone was cold, and then
suddenly she smiled again. 'He does not care for people, that is why he
has come to take you to safety.' Father Ignatius held out his hand and
Bruce found the skin was cool and dry, making him conscious of the
moistness of his own.
'That is most thoughtful of you,' he said smiling, sensing the tension
between them. 'I don't want to seem ungrateful, but I regret I
cannot accept your offer.'
'We have received reports that a column of armed bandits are only two
hundred kilometres or so north of here.
They will arrive within a day or two. You are in great danger, these
people are completely merciless,' Bruce urged him.
'Yes, Father Ignatius nodded. 'I have also heard, and I am taking the
steps I consider necessary. I shall take all my staff and patients into
the bush.' 'They'll follow you,' said Bruce.
'I think not.' Ignatius shook his head. 'They will not waste their time.
They are after loot, not sick people.'
'They'll burn your mission.'
'If they do, then we shall have to rebuild it when they leave.'
'The bush is crawling with Baluba, you'll end up in the cooking pot.'
Bruce tried another approach.
'No.' Ignatius shook his head. 'Nearly every member of the tribe has at
one time or another been a patient in this hospital. I have nothing to
fear there, they are my friends.'
'Look here, Father. Don't let us argue. My orders are to bring you back
to Elisabethville. I
must insist.'
'And my orders are to stay here. You do agree that mine come from a
higher authority than yours?' Ignatius smiled mildly.
Bruce opened his mouth to argue further; then, instead, he laughed.
'No, I won't dispute that. Is there anything you need that I
might be able to supply?'
'Medicines?' asked Ignatius.
'Acriflavine, morphia, field dressings, not much I'm afraid.'
'They would help, and food?'
'Yes, I will let you have as much as I can spare,' promised Bruce.
One of the patients, a woman at the end of the ward, screamed so
suddenly that Bruce started.
'She will be dead before morning,' Ignatius explained softly.
'There is nothing I can do.'
'What's wrong with her?'
'She has been in
labour these past two days; there is some complication.'
'Can't you operate?' am not a doctor, my son. We had one here before the
trouble began, but he is here no longer - he has gone back to
