The Plantation - Di Morrissey [48]
‘It’s a lovely sound,’ agreed Bette.
‘No, he means he can sleep in,’ said Margaret. ‘Too wet to tap the trees.’
‘So what does an assistant manager do? Are you out in the field all day?’ asked Bette. Gilbert was younger than Roland. While his family lived in England and had no holdings in Malaya, and he knew nothing about rubber, he had decided to take the job that Roland had suggested because it sounded so interesting and challenging.
‘Dawn to dusk,’ he said. ‘Checking on the slashing, clearing, planting and tapping that the coolies do on the plantation. And that’s before we get to sell the stuff. And there always seems to be some hullabaloo happening between the different tappers, coolies and their families. Accidents, fights, sickness. Still, it’s never dull. And I rather like exploring my divisions. Quite pretty country. We have a lot of streams running down from the jungle. Rugged though. I’m lucky, too. The manager’s a good chap, lets me get away a bit.’
Margaret glanced at Bette and nudged her, indicating Gilbert with a questioning look. Bette smiled and shook her head. But they both stifled a giggle.
Roland drove the car steadily towards the hills, and then turned off and headed along a cleared grassy track towards the river. At the water’s edge beside a small kam-pong was a boat landing. From one of the huts came a Malay, who took them over to a long open wooden boat with an exposed engine in its centre.
‘How far are we going in that boat?’ asked Bette as they walked over to it.
‘Not very far. It’s the best way to get to the pagar,’ said Roland. ‘Usually when we come up here we drive along the road through the plantation, but it’s much longer and not very interesting.’
‘I have to say that this looks fun. Just as well we brought sunhats.’
‘We have umbrellas, too, if you want them,’ said Roland.
‘Come on, Philip, let’s go and see the boat,’ said Margaret.
‘I don’t suppose there is a problem with crocodiles,’ said Bette, remembering her earlier encounter.
‘No, it’s fine,’ said Roland. He spoke to the boatman, and another bare-chested man, wearing a checked cotton baju, sauntered over to them. Roland had them both unload the car and pile their belongings into the boat. Then he explained, ‘We’re leaving the car here. It’ll be safe with the villagers.’
The man in the baju nodded. ‘Yes, tuan.’
They all enjoyed chugging through the thick brown water, the wind in their faces, hats protecting them from the sun. Passing a village at the water’s edge they waved to the children, who waved back. As they got near to where the jungle grew close to the river’s edge, the water became clearer. The boatman angled the boat towards the bank and rounding a bend they came to a cleared area under shady trees. There was an attap hut with a verandah and a thatched lean-to over a large table. Next to the landing bamboo poles jutted above the surface of the water and made a fence that staked out the swimming area.
‘This is just beautiful,’ said Bette to Margaret.
The boatman, helped by Roland and Gilbert, hauled out the picnic baskets and cotton bags containing their clothes and put them in the shade of the table, while Roland opened up the little hut.
‘Basic change room, a water jar to rinse off, and thunder box.’
‘I’m going in for a swim! Coming Philip?’ Bette pulled off her sundress, which she’d worn over her swimming costume.
‘I’ll be there in a minute, too. I’m going to change in the hut,’ said Margaret.
Holding Philip’s hand, Bette walked to the water’s edge and peered into the cool clear water. ‘Looks safe enough. It certainly looks refreshing.’
Gilbert came up behind them, and swung Philip onto his shoulders. ‘Come on, young man, let’s jump in!’
‘Be careful,’ called Margaret as she followed them to the river.
Gilbert waded in and with Philip clinging to his back, arms tight around his neck, he swam out into