THE BADDEST VILLAINS - James Bond Edition. Ian Fleming
pool converged into a narrow neck over which the mangroves touched. For a time they waded through a cool tunnel, and then the river broadened into a deep sluggish channel that meandered ahead among the giant spider-legs of the mangroves. The bottom was muddy and at each step their feet sank inches into slime. Small fish or shrimps wriggled and fled from under their feet, and every now and then they had to stoop to brush away leeches before they got hold. But otherwise it was easy going and quiet and cool among the bushes and, at least to Bond, it was a blessing to be out of the sun.
Soon, as they got away from the sea, it began to smell bad with the bad egg, sulphuretted hydrogen smell of marsh gas. The mosquitoes and sandflies began to find them. They liked Bond’s fresh body. Quarrel told him to dip himself in the river water. ‘Dem like dere meat wid salt on him,’ he explained cheerfully. Bond took off his shirt and did as he was told. Then it was better and after a while Bond’s nostrils even got used to the marsh gas, except when Quarrel’s feet disturbed some aged pocket in the mud and a vintage bubble wobbled up from the bottom and burst stinking under his nose.
The mangroves became fewer and sparser and the river slowly opened out. The water grew shallower and the bottom firmer. Soon they came round a bend and into the open. Honey said, ‘Better watch out now. We’ll be easier to see. It goes on like this for about a mile. Then the river gets narrower until the lake. Then there’s the sandspit the birdmen lived on.’
They stopped in the shadow of the mangrove tunnel and looked out. The river meandered sluggishly away from them towards the centre of the island. Its banks, fringed with low bamboo and sea-grape, would give only half shelter. From its western bank the ground rose slowly and then sharply up to the sugar-loaf about two miles away which was the guanera. Round the base of the mountain there was a scattering of Quonset huts. A zigzag of silver ran down the hillside to the huts – a Decauderville Track, Bond guessed, to bring the guano from the diggings down to the crusher and separator. The summit of the sugar-loaf was white, as if with snow. From the peak flew a smoky flag of guano dust. Bond could see the black dots of cormorants against the white background. They were landing and taking off like bees at a hive.
Bond stood and gazed at the distant glittering mountain of bird dung. So this was the kingdom of Doctor No! Bond thought he had never seen a more godforsaken landscape in his life.
He examined the ground between the river and the mountain. It seemed to be the usual grey dead coral broken, where there was a pocket of earth, by low scrub and screwpalm. No doubt a road or a track led down the mountainside to the central lake and the marshes. It looked bad stuff to cross unless there was. Bond noticed that all the vegetation was bent to the westwards. He imagined living the year round with that hot wind constantly scouring the island, the smell of the marsh gas and the guano. No penal colony could have a worse site than this.
Bond looked to the east. There the mangroves in the marshland seemed more hospitable. They marched away in a solid green carpet until they lost their outline in the dancing heat haze on the horizon. Over them a thick froth of birds tossed and settled and tossed again. Their steady scream carried over on the harsh wind.
Quarrel’s voice broke in on Bond’s thoughts. ‘Dey’s acomin’, cap’n.’
Bond followed Quarrel’s eyes. A big lorry was racing down from the huts, dust streaming from its wheels. Bond followed it for ten minutes until it disappeared amongst the mangroves at the head of the river. He listened. The baying of dogs came down on the wind.
Quarrel said, ‘Dey’ll come down de ribber, cap’n. Dem’ll know we caint move ’cept up de ribber, assumin’ we ain’t dead. Dey’ll surely come down de ribber to de beach and look for de pieces. Den mos’ likely de boat come wit’ a dinghy an’ take de men and dogs off. Leastways, dat’s what Ah’d do in dere place.’
Honey said, ‘That’s what they do when they look for me. It’s quite all right. You cut a piece of bamboo and when they get near you go under the water and breathe through the bamboo till they’ve gone by.’
Bond smiled at Quarrel. He said, ‘Supposing you get the bamboo while I find a good mangrove clump.’
Quarrel nodded dubiously. He started off upstream towards the bamboo thickets. Bond turned back into the mangrove tunnel.
Bond had avoided looking at the girl. She said impatiently, ‘You needn’t be so careful of looking at me. It’s no good minding those things at a time like this. You said so yourself.’
Bond turned and looked at her. Her tattered shirt came down to the waterline. There was a glimpse of pale wavering limbs below. The beautiful face smiled at him. In the mangroves the broken nose seemed appropriate in its animalness.
Bond looked at her slowly. She understood. He turned and went on downstream and she followed him.
Bond found what he wanted, a crack in the wall of mangrove that seemed to go deeper. He said, ‘Don’t break a branch.’ He bent his head and waded in. The channel went in ten yards. The mud under their feet became deeper and softer. Then there was a solid wall of roots and they could go no farther. The brown water flowed slowly through a wide, quiet pool. Bond stopped. The girl came close to him. ‘This is real hide-and-seek,’ she said tremulously.
‘Yes, isn’t it.’ Bond was thinking of his gun. He was wondering how well it would shoot after a bath in the river – how many dogs and men he could get if they were found. He felt a wave of disquiet. It had been a bad break coming across this girl. In combat, like it or not, a girl is your extra heart. The enemy has two targets against your one.
Bond remembered his thirst. He scooped up some water. It was brackish and tasted of earth. It was all right. He drank some more. The girl put out her hand and stopped him. ‘Don’t drink too much. Wash your mouth out and spit. You could get fever.’
Bond looked at her quietly. He did as she told him.
Quarrel whistled from somewhere in the main stream. Bond answered and waded out towards him. They came back along the channel. Quarrel splashed the mangrove roots with water where their bodies might have brushed against them. ‘Kill da smell of us,’ he explained briefly. He produced his handful of bamboo lengths and began whittling and cutting them. Bond looked to his gun and the spare ammunition. They stood still in the pool so as not to stir up more mud.
The sunlight dappled down through the thick roof of leaves. The shrimps nibbled softly at their feet. Tension built up in the hot, crouching silence.
It was almost a relief to hear the baying of the dogs.
10. DRAGON SPOOR
THE SEARCH party was coming fast down the river. The two men in bathing trunks and tall waders were having to run to keep up with the dogs. They were big Chinese negroes wearing shoulder holsters across their naked sweating chests. Occasionally they exchanged shouts that were mostly swear-words. Ahead of them the pack of big Dobermann Pinschers swam and floundered through the water, baying excitedly. They had a scent and they quested frenziedly, the diamond-shaped ears erect on the smooth, serpentine heads.
‘May be a —ing crocodile,’ yelled the leading man through the hubbub. He was carrying a short whip which he occasionally cracked like a whipper-in on the hunting field.
The other man converged towards him. He shouted excitedly, ‘For my money it’s the —ing limey! Bet ya he’s lying up in the mangrove. Mind he doesn’t give us a —ing ambush.’ The man took the gun out of its holster and put it under his armpit and kept his hand on the butt.
They were coming out of the open river into the mangrove tunnel. The first man had a whistle. It stuck out of his broad face like a cigar butt. He blew a shrill blast. When the dogs swept on he laid about him with the whip. The dogs checked, whimpering as the slow current forced them to disobey orders. The two men took their guns and waded slowly downstream through the straggly legs of the mangroves.
The leading man came