Jane by Robin Maxwell

Author:Robin Maxwell
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Historical Fiction
Publisher: Tor Books
Published: 2012-09-17T21:00:00+00:00

Zu-dak-lul

All along our westward imperative, riding the Ogowe Mbele above- and belowground, I knew that our final destination must be the Atlantic. Yet my first sight of it as we emerged from the brackish mangrove swamp stunned my senses. In all the time I’d lived under the deep forest canopy I had felt no claustrophobia or even longing for the light that had largely gone from my existence. But here on the wide beach of fine-grained, blinding white sand lined with a pretty fringe of coconut palms (here was where Tarzan had harvested the coconut shells!), I felt a great rush of joy tinged with something akin to homesickness. There was a great dome of stark blue sky, gentle green waves rolling landward, and the equatorial sun that began in an instant to burn my skin (I heard Cecily admonishing me to put on a hat). Certainly the happiness was borne of the light and freedom, the diving seabirds, and the fresh breeze whipping my hair. It was, I decided, the sight of the sea that had made me nostalgic. This is my ocean, I mused. The water here may once have touched the coast of England. It is the same in which I swam with my father as a little girl. This ocean bore his body home.

I was all at once overcome with the urgent need to immerse myself. I strode—how odd it felt to be able to stride, unhindered by roots and matted vines of the forest and jungle floor!—across the sand and without hesitation waded into the shallows. I was grateful for the gradual slope and the calm, waist-high waves, and plowed through them, using my arms to push myself forward. The water was warmer than I had ever felt it, and utterly delightful. All the grime of the mosquito-infested jungle and the stinking mud of the mangrove swamp were washed away in moments. When I was chest-high, I pushed off the sandy bottom and began to swim. It was only then that I remembered Tarzan, assuming he would be right behind me in the water.

But when I turned, I saw him standing, unaccountably, on the shore, watching me. From this distance I could not see his features, but his posture was odd. As if he was straining forward and restraining himself all at once. In any case, he was immobile. I called to him and waved him in. He shook his head.

Well, the water was too glorious to abandon, so I had a good strong swim down the coast a piece. Finally, with no need for watchful stepping or hair-raising rides upon raging rapids, in and out of eerie underground rivers, and slogging through snake- and insect-ridden jungles, I was able to revisit my find of P.a.e. When this portion of the adventure, whatever it was, was done, I would insist on Tarzan taking me back to the nesting grounds so I could begin memorizing every detail for the time there would be pen and paper to record it.

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