“Take me as far as Corrientes and I will be responsible for the rest,” said Mansfield. “At least I can but try.”
The voyage up the Parana was monotonous, for the boat was seldom close enough to either bank to admit of more than a confused view of the country, and the solitary Englishman was relieved when the two days’ journey came to an end. On the second morning, when he went on deck the boat was making a stop, and he 228 profited by it to slip off shirt and trousers and take a cool, delicious header into the river. Coming to the surface again he glanced up at the steamer, for the crew were all screaming one against the other; a charitable Zambo was heaving him a life-belt which (on finding that there were no objectionable reptiles anywhere near him) he laughingly refused. He had his swim, swarmed up a rope, and reached the deck again.
“Did I not say he was possessed, or mad?” he overheard the skipper growl in Spanish.
“What made the Señor do that?” asked the friendly Zambo soothingly.
“For pleasure, amigo; and in order to be clean. In my country it is the custom to have a cold bath or a swim every morning.”
The half-breed turned away, tapping his forehead gravely, and communicated this piece of news to the white men, who seemed even more astounded. Wash? What for, in the name of all the fiends? They had scarcely ever heard of such an operation.
In Corrientes, Mansfield whiled away a few days in trying to obtain further information about the Chaco; but without much success. The civic authorities, from whom he had first to gain permission to move any higher up the river, made little demur; privately they thought the town would be well rid of a wandering maniac. They told him that he might possibly find Indian canoemen who would take him to Asuncion, though he would be almost the first Englishman who had ever been there; but that he must assume entire responsibility for such a venture; they would offer no hindrance, but no help either.
As luck would have it, while he was loitering on the jetty one evening, a large canoe, manned by four Indians and laden with oranges and plantains, ran alongside. That they did not belong to these parts was evidenced by their great size, their strange dress and easy motions, and by the number of native words with which their Spanish was interlarded. A crowd of buyers gathered round them, and their cargo was very soon disposed of; indeed, the townsfolk seemed only too anxious to let them do their business and take themselves off again, the brawny forest-giants being about as welcome here as Genseric’s Vandals were in Rome.
When the crowd had dispersed, Mansfield approached the Indians and asked if they were going up the river again. They stared at him, more in wonder than in ill-humour.