The Plantation - Di Morrissey [91]
‘We appreciate your helping us, but we don’t want to jeopardise your life,’ said Bill.
‘Please, it is fellows like you who will help get rid of the Japanese, so I will see to it that I get you to the mountains. In the meantime, please use the amenities of my home. There is now clean hot water and my wife will prepare you a meal. It is best the servants do not know of your presence. Many Indians wait for the days when the British will return, but others believe the Japanese when they say that the days of the British are over. This, myself, I do not believe, but others may be gullible and they will aid the Japanese by betraying you.’
The next day, still disguised as Sikhs, we left Gupta’s house to drive to the highlands.
‘Listen, Gupta,’ Bill had said earlier that morning. ‘Our disguises aren’t very good. We don’t have beards, our skin is too light and my eyes are blue. If the Japs stop us and have a close look, they’ll see we’re not Indian.’
‘You are not to worry,’ replied Gupta. ‘I will make you my driver, and you can wear some old sunglasses of mine. I doubt, however, that they will look at you. Servants do not rate much attention. Mr Elliott will be a coolie, sitting in the front of the car beside you. I will tell the Japanese that I am concerned that if I do not check the water sources for the town carefully, they may be exposed to cholera. They are very frightened of cholera, so they will let me pass.’
Events happened much as Gupta said they would. The Japanese did stop his car, but Gupta was magnificent and the possible threat of cholera was enough for us to be waved on. There was little traffic on the road to the Cameron Highlands and we made good time. When we had driven as far as the road would allow, Gupta let us out, handing us some food for our travels and bidding us good luck. He turned the car around and headed straight back down, leaving us on the side of the road with the knowledge that we had a lot of jungle to tackle before we reached our destination.
The jungle was dense and unforgiving, but Bill had been in this region before and was able to follow the narrow paths with seeming ease, so that within a few days we arrived in the village where we hoped to make contact with Roger Burrows, as well as the local communist leader.
‘What do we do now?’ asked Bill as we gazed through the trees at the little kampong with its attap-roofed huts. ‘Do we just walk in and hope for the best?’
‘We might as well. I’m sure that the villagers are aware of our presence by now, anyway. You did say that you knew enough to be able to converse with these Orang Asli, didn’t you?’
As we strode into the village, trying to look as masterful as possible, we were met by the headman, whom Bill greeted politely. The old man looked at him for a while, and then broke into a toothless grin and greeted Bill in return.
‘He remembers me from my visit here about five or so years ago. We got on famously, so I know we’ll be all right here.’
‘Ask him about Roger,’ I said.
Bill spoke again to the old man, who nodded and signalled us to follow. We entered a hut and there we could see a man lying on the floor matting.
‘Roger?’ I asked.
‘’Fraid so, old chap. Who the hell are you?’
I introduced Bill and myself and told him that HQ has sent us in to try and find him.
‘Well, here I am. The radio broke down about nine or more months ago and I haven’t been able to get the right parts to mend it, so I couldn’t let anyone know what was going on in this part of the world.’
‘And you, how are you?’ Bill said.
‘Not too bad. I’ve got a touch of malaria at present, so I like to stay in here where it’s dark. The light hurts my eyes, but apart from that I’m in good condition, considering the circumstances. The communist leader I’ve been working with is bloody brilliant. Gets me medicines when he can and tells me what the Japs are doing. But of course that’s no use without a radio to relay the info.’
When we told him that we’d been able to bring a radio in with us, he was