Crocodile On The Sandbank

dahabeeyah.

So the scheme we had arranged was carried out. We had great difficulty in persuading Evelyn to go, but finally she agreed, as she thought, to a quick journey to and from the river. Glancing back, as our caravan set form, I saw Abdullah squatting on the ledge, his knees up and his turbaned head bowed. He looked like the spirit of an ancient scribe brooding over the desolate site of his former home.

The walk, through sand and under a broiling sun, was not an easy one. It was with considerable relief that I made out the mast and furled sails of the Philae, bobbing gently at anchor. Beyond, I saw Lucas's boat. It was called the Cleopatra. If that famous queen was as fatally lovely as history claims, her namesake did not live up to its model; the Cleopatra was smaller than the Philae and not nearly so neat. As we drew nearer I saw some members of the crew lounging about the deck; they were as dirty and unkempt as their boat, and the sullen indifference with which they watched us contrasted eloquently with the enthusiastic welcome of my men. You would have thought we had returned from the jaws of death instead of a place only four miles away. Reis Hassan seemed to recognize Emerson; his white teeth gleamed in a smile as their hands met, and the two fell into animated conversation.

I did not need to follow the rapid Arabic to know that Emerson's first questions concerned our missing Michael; it had been my intention to investigate that matter immediately if he had not. The reis's response was equally intelligible- a firm negative.

And yet, despite my ignorance of the language, I felt there was something hidden behind the captain's steady look and quick reply- some reservation he did not care to state. I was ready, by that time, to believe that everyone around me was party to the plot, but I knew Hassan might be quite innocent and yet not quite candid. He might be concealing a shamed, fugitive Michael; he might have heard the tales of the villagers and be reluctant to confess his own fears.

Emerson's flashing glance at me indicated that he had similar doubts. He turned back to the reis with a barrage of questions, but got little satisfaction. Michael had not been seen. No doubt he had become bored, or lonely for his family, as 'these Christians' were wont to do, and had deserted.

Emerson stamped impatiently as Hassan took his departure. He really did behave like a spoiled child at times; but now I could hardly blame him. He was on fire to return to Walter, and could not waste more time in interrogation; when an Egyptian decides not to speak, it requires a Grand Inquisitor to get a word out of him. Evelyn had gone below to pack the articles that were our ostensible reason for coming. Lucas had gone to his own dahabeeyah. Emerson and I stood alone on the upper deck.

'I must get back,' he muttered. ' Peabody, all is not well. The crewmen have been talking with the villagers. One of them has already run away, and I think Hassan is doubtful of his ability to control the others. Not that he would admit it- '

'I felt something was wrong. But you ought not to wait; I too am apprehensive about Walter. Go.'

'You will not forget what I have told you?'

'No.'

'And you will act as I have directed?'

'Yes.'

The sun on the upper deck was burning hot, with the awning rolled back. Streaks of perspiration trickled down Emerson's face.

'The situation is intolerable,' he exclaimed. 'Amelia, swear to me that you will do precisely what I said; you will not take foolish chances, or expose yourself- '

'I have said I would. Don't you understand English?'

'Good God! You are the one who fails to understand; don't you realize there is not another woman living whom I would- '

He broke off. From the far end of the deck Lucas approached, his hands in his pockets, his lips pursed in a whistle. The strains of 'Rule, Britannia' floated to my ears.

Emerson gave me a long, piercing look-a look that burned itself into my brain. Without another word he turned and vanished down the ladder to the lower deck.

I could not face Lucas just then. I followed Emerson. He was out of sight by the time I reached the lower deck, so I went on down, into the area where the cabins were located. My cheeks were tingling; I felt a foolish desire to imitate Lucas's whistling. It had been very hot on the upper deck; even those few moments had burned my face so that it felt warm and flushed.

In a narrow, dark corridor I ran full tilt into Evelyn.

'Amelia,' she cried, clutching my arm. 'I have just seen Mr. Emerson from my window. He is leaving-he is on his way back, without us. Stop him, pray do; I must go back- '

With a start of repugnance I remembered the role I must play. Evelyn was trying to brush past me. I put my hands on her arms and leaned heavily against her.

'I am feeling ill,' I muttered. 'I really think I must lie down…'

Evelyn responded as I had known she would. She assisted me to my cabin and helped me loosen my dress. I pretended to be faint; I am afraid I did not do a convincing job of it, what with shame at betraying her trust and the odd exhilaration that bubbled inside me; but poor Evelyn never suspected me of false dealing. She worked assiduously to restore me; indeed, she waved the smelling salts so ardently under my nose that I went into a fit of sneezing.

'Leave off, do,' I exclaimed between paroxysms. 'My head will fly off in a moment!'

'You are better,' Evelyn said eagerly. 'That was your old strong voice. Are you better, Amelia? Dare I leave you for a moment? I will run after Mr. Emerson and tell him to wait- '

I fell back on the pillow with a heartrending groan.

'I cannot walk, Evelyn. I think-I think I must stay here tonight. Of course,' I added craftily, 'if you feel you must go-and leave me here alone-I will not try to keep you…'

I closed my eyes, but I watched Evelyn through my lashes. The struggle on the girl's face made me feel like Judas. Almost I weakened. Then I remembered Emerson's look, and his words. 'There is not another woman alive whom I would- ' What had he meant to say? 'Whom I would trust, as I am trusting in your strength and courage?' Would the sentence, interrupted by Lucas, have ended in some such wise? If so- and there could hardly be any other meaning- it was an accolade I could not fail to deserve. The triumph of converting that arrogant misogynist into an admission that Woman, as represented by my humble self, had admirable qualities… No, I thought, if I must choose between Evelyn or Emerson- or rather, between Evelyn and my own principles- I must betray Evelyn. It was for her own good.

Still, I felt rather uncomfortable, as I watched her fight I her silent battle. Her hands were pressed so tightly together that the knuckles showed white, but when she spoke her voice was resigned.

'Of course I will stay with you, Amelia. How could you I suppose I would do otherwise? Perhaps a quiet night's sleep j will restore you.'

'I am sure it will,' I mumbled, unable to deny the girl that much comfort. Little did she know what sort of night I half expected!

I ought to have stayed in my bed, refusing food, to carry out my performance; but as the day went on, I began to be perfectly ravenous. Darkness fell, and I felt I was safe; not even Evelyn would insist that we make the journey by night. So I admitted to feeling a little better, and agreed that nourishment would do me good. I had a frightful time trying to pick at the food and not bolt it down like a laborer. The cookhad outdone himself, as if in celebration of our return, and Lucas had fetched several bottles of champagne from his dahabeeyah.

He was attired in evening dress; the austere black and white became his sturdy body and handsome face very well.

He had become exceedingly tanned. I felt as if he ought to be wearing the crimson sashes and orders of some exotic foreign emissary, or even the gold-embroidered robes of a Bedouin sheik.

We dined on the upper deck. The canopy had been rolled back, and the great vault of heaven, spangled with stars, formed a roof finer than any oriental palace could boast. As we sipped our soup, a feeling of unreality swept over me. It was as if the preceding week had never happened. This was a night like the first nights on the dahabeeyah, surrounded by the sights and sounds and olfactory sensations that had so quickly