The long trip south did prove uneventful. During daylight, the plane was over the Atlantic Ocean, and darkness had settled when it reached the coast of Brazil. Biff landed in Belem at dawn, so it wasn’t until he had changed to the plane for Manaus that he gained his first view of the Brazilian jungle.
He saw it from a seat beside the window as the plane climbed above Belem; a vast, solid mass of billowing green that looked ready to swallow the city that spread below. Then the jungle ended, and the plane was flying over a huge expanse of brownish water streaked with waves of white. This was the Amazon River, stretching as far as the eye could see.
A smooth voice purred from beside Biff’s shoulder:
“It looks more like an ocean than a river, doesn’t it?”
Biff turned to meet the gaze of the smiling man sitting beside him whose eyes looked sharp even through his dark-green glasses. The large lenses gave an olive hue to the sleek, oval face that narrowed to a pointed chin.
“O Rio Mar,” the smiling man continued. “That is what Brazilians call the Amazon. It means ‘The River Sea’ in Portuguese. Do you understand the language?”
“A little,” replied Biff, “but I know Spanish better.” He was about to add that he had learned both from his father. Then, remembering Mr. Stannart’s warning to be careful when he talked to strangers, Biff stated simply but truthfully:
“I have been studying Spanish in school.”
“You will need to speak Portuguese,” the man declared, “if you are stopping off anywhere between Belem and Manaus.” He paused inquiringly. Then, getting no response, he added, “If you go farther up the Amazon or any of its tributaries, you will need to know the dialects of Indian tribes as well.”
The stranger’s easy, persuasive tone almost caused Biff to remark that he was going on beyond Manaus. But he caught himself in time and said nothing.