Marrying Off Mother by Gerald Durrell

Author:Gerald Durrell
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781611456059
Publisher: Skyhorse Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2011-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

The Jury

The river steamer Dolores broke down — as river steamers are wont to do — midway between her point of departure and her destination at Meriada, a small township of some two thousand souls on the banks of the Parana River. There seemed no justification for this misdemeanour for here the river was wide, deep, placid and with a good current that was hastening us on our way. I was annoyed for I had in the hold, among other things, two jaguars, twenty monkeys and an assortment of some thirty birds and reptiles. I had calculated my food supply for a five-day journey and if we were delayed too long my supplies would run out. My two jaguars, though tame as kittens, lived to eat and their agonized screams of rage and frustration if their demand for three square meals a day was not met were a blood-curdling cacophony that had to be heard to be believed.

I went to see the captain. He was a squat, dark-skinned little man with a heavy black moustache and eyebrows, a mass of curly hair, very white teeth, and he smelt overpoweringly of Parma violets.

‘Capitano,’ I said. ‘I am sorry to worry you, but have you any idea how long we will remain here? I am worried about food for my animals.’

He gave one of those wide, enormously expressive Latin shrugs and raised his eyes heavenwards.

‘Señor, I cannot tell you,’ he said. The part of the Hico de Puta engine which is broken they say that it may be mended at a forge in town, but I doubt it. If it cannot be mended we must send back for the part from our last port of call.’

‘Has someone phoned back for one?’ I enquired.

‘No,’ said the captain, shrugging. ‘The telephones are out of order. They cannot mend them until tomorrow, they say.’

‘Well, I’m going into town to get some more food for my bichos. Don’t leave without me, will you?’

He laughed.

‘No fear of that, señor,’ he said. ‘Look, I’ll send a couple of the Indios with you to carry. They have nothing to do at the moment.’

So I and my two Indians padded off along the road to the centre of town where I knew, inevitably, the market lay. These were real Paraguayan Indians, small of stature, copper skinned, with straight soot-black hair and eyes like blackberries. Presently, loaded down with avocados, bananas, oranges, pineapples, four legs of goat meat and fourteen live chickens, we made our way back to the Dolores. I stored my comestibles, ignored the jaguars’ efforts to get me to play with them, and went back on deck. Here I was surprised to find a gentleman occupying one of the few dilapidated deck-chairs provided for the delight of passengers. Most of them were so frayed you feared to sit in them, most so rotten they collapsed if you touched them. This gentleman had, however, found one of the rare ones that supported weight. He now rose, swept off his enormous straw hat and held out his hand.

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