“In that case,” said Biff, “I suppose you can never get lost in the jungle.”
“I get lost easy,” returned Kamuka. “Too easy. Any place I do not know, I am lost—maybe. But I never get lost in the same place where I was before.”
Biff decided to test that out in a simple but effective way. As they chugged along, he made notes of certain spots and told Kamuka to remember them on his own. When they reached a similar place, Biff asked Kamuka to tell him the difference. Always, Kamuka came up with some slight variation that tallied with Biff’s list.
When they swung into a small cove past a jutting point with an odd overhanging tree, Biff was sure that they had seen the place before. This time, Kamuka couldn’t come up with enough differences in the scenery. Triumphantly, Biff was saying:
“You see, Kamuka? This could be the same place where we were an hour ago, or enough like it so you can’t tell the difference—”
“Except,” said Kamuka, “that there was no smoke in trees, no campfire with people around, no boats coming out from shore—”
Biff looked up in surprise. He saw more boats, a whole batch of them, shooting out from opposite points to block off any retreat.
More than a dozen in number, those boats were filled with natives who shouted savage war cries as they closed in on Nara’s flotilla, forcing the heavier boats toward the shore. There was no avoiding the camp where warlike natives waited, armed with spears, for now other canoes were darting out from hiding places to complete the rapid roundup.
Rather than be boarded by the natives, Mr. Brewster ordered the boats to the shore. There, he and Whitman sprang out with loaded rifles. Biff and Kamuka followed, bringing their machetes. Jacome joined them, armed in the same fashion. Immediately, they were surrounded by a dozen silent natives, who stood ready with poised spears.
“Be careful,” warned Jacome. “Do not make move. Big pot on fire is used to cook curare. Spear point poison—maybe.”