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He said, 'Senhor, I owe you more than sits comfortably on me. It is a burden. A debt to be repaid. We will be in Belem in a month. Stay with us. No one would look for you here if there should be a hue and cry.'

It was a tempting thought. Belem and possibly a berth on a British freighter. I could even try stowing away if the worst came to the worst.

But then there was Hannah and the fact that if I ran now, I would be running, in the most fundamental way of all, for the rest of my life. 'When do you reach Forte Franco?'

'If things go according to plan, around dawn on the day after tomorrow.'

'That's where I'll leave you. I want to get to Landro about fifty miles up the Rio das Mortes. Do you know it?'

'I've heard of the place. This is important to you?'

'Very.'

'Good.' He nodded. 'Plenty of boats coming up-river and I know everyone in the game. We will wait at Franco till I see you safely on your way. It is settled.'

I tried to protest, but he brushed it aside, went into the hut and reappeared with a bottle of what turned out to be the roughest brandy I've ever tasted in my life. It almost took the skin off my tongue. I fought for air, but the consequent effect was all that could be desired. All tiredness slipped away, I felt ten feet tall.

'Your business in Landro, senhor,' he said pouring more brandy into my mug. 'It is important?'

'I'm going to see a man.'

'To kill him?'

'In a way,' I said. 'I'm going to make him tell the truth for the first time in his life.'

*

I slept like a baby for fourteen hours and didn't raise my head till noon the following day. During the afternoon I helped Bartolomeo generally around the raft in spite of his protests. There was always work to be done. Ropes chafing or some of the great balsa logs working loose which was only to be expected on such a long voyage. I even took a turn on the steering oar although the river continued so placid that it was hardly necessary.

That night it rained and I sat in the hut and played cards with him in the light of a storm lantern. Surprisingly he was an excellent whist player - certainly a damned sight better than me. Eventually, he went out on watch and I wrapped myself in a blanket and lay in the corner smoking one of his cigars and thinking about what lay ahead.

The truth was that I was a fool. I was putting my head into a noose again with no guarantee of any other outcome than a swift return to Machados and this time, they'd see I got there.

But I had to face Hannah with this thing - had to make him admit his treachery, no matter what the consequences. I flicked my cigar out into the rain, hitched my blanket over my shoulder and went to sleep.

*

We reached the mouth of the Mortes about four in the morning. Bartolomeo took the raft into the left bank and I helped him tie her securely to a couple of trees. Afterwards, he put a canoe in the water and departed down-river.

I breakfasted with Nula and the children then paced the raft restlessly, waiting for something to happen. I was too close, that was the thing, itching to be on my way and have it all over and done with.

Bartolomeo returned at seven, hailing us from the deck of an old steam barge, the canoe trailing behind on a line. The barge came alongside and Bartolomeo crossed over. The man who leaned from the deckhouse was thin and ill-looking with the haggard, bad-tempered face of one constantly in pain. His skin was as yellow as only jaundice can make it.

'All right, Bartolomeo,' he called. 'If we're going, let's go. I'm in a hurry. I've got cargo waiting up-river.'

'My second cousin,' Bartolomeo said. 'Inside, he has a heart of purest gold.'

'Hurry it up, you bastard,' his cousin shouted.

'If you want to speak to him, call him Silvio. He won't ask you questions if you don't ask him any and he'll put you down at Landro. He owes me a favour.'

We shook hands. 'My thanks,' I said.

'God be with you, my friend.'

I stepped over the rail to the steam barge and the two Indian deckhands cast off. As we pulled away, I moved to the stern