The Plane from Iquitos [1959-] Parts: 1,2 & 3
Iquitos & the Amazon Part One
It was December 2, l959, I was sitting on a small prop-plane leaving Iquitos, Peru for a trip down the Amazon toward the opening, the mouth of the mighty Amazon,--to Manaus. As we flew low one could see the waters of the Amazon, the city always impressed me, but more from this birds-eye view, you could see the mighty river in its squid like form, with all it tentacles [contributories: waters linking to the river]. It would get smaller, and then wider as you flew along it’s stretched out body, it was four miles wide at one point, and that was nothing compared to other spots of the Amazon? In the jungle area, it was a sea of green, nothing but towering green. It was said it could produce as much water flow as the any seven other largest rivers in the world. It was they said the longest river in the world, seemingly always debating it with the length of Nile. There were eight passengers to include me, the pilot and co-pilot, making us ten in all.
I liked Iquitos, especially the Iron House, the very one made by none other then Mr. Eiffel, the one who made the tower in Paris. I had eaten for the first time Pirana Roia, it was delicious, except for the many bones, and the fish wasn’t all the big once you cut the head off, although the teeth looked like a baby sharks, dead and unpleasing. I had caught a few fishing, it there was a secret to that. I used a stick for a fishing rod, and tied a string on it with a semi-big hook, and put a big piece of meat on it. Then when the fish took hold of it, the Pirana that is, he doesn’t chew it, or even bit into it like other fish, he rips it outward, and so at first touch, the fisher man has to yank it upward to hook the fish right under his upper teeth. He had a big low jaw, but a small upper portion to his head so if you do not do this he will not be hooked. Actually you may hook his upper teeth for they extend out as does the lower one.
As we continued to fly down the river about 125-miles we started to go inland form the river, t he view was tremendous, the height of the trees. With my binoculars I could see what the co-pilot called the big lazy bird up in the trees; we were less then 100-feet over the top of the trees, and some of the monkeys. Then all of a sudden I heard a shot, it hit the wing, and then another. The co-pilot, Henry, looked out my window didn’t see anything unusual, then Captain Derry, came in,
“We’ve been hit by something, we’re loosing fuel, not sure exactly where we can land but I’ll see,” then he went back to his cock-pit. All eight of us now were looking out the window. There was Mary and John, from Hong Kong, both spoke good English, and then there was Lora from someplace in Florida, she was an accountant on a single trip, leaving her boyfriend and women friend who both did not want to come on the trip for personal reasons, thus, she said if they didn’t want to come it shouldn’t stop her from doing what she wanted, and it didn’t. There was the man from Budapest of all places a professor of some kind, I just called him Professor, he also was alone. Then there was the three women from some place in the South West, they were on a world tour of sorts, and had left Barrow, Alaska. Martha, the elder of the three elder women was most chatty, and talked about her walking 500-feet out onto the ice, and standing on a frozen wave. She was courageous for sure. I never did get the other two women’s names.
And now the plane started to lower itself, I seen an opening, several huts, one big one was below us. The pilot circled the area. In the center was room like a ball park, or simply a wife open space, he was going to try and land it there. It wasn’t all that big, but big enough.
Twenty Minutes Later
The Village
Somehow we hand landed, but the front end of the plane went head first into one of the several huts, one wheel broke off and now way would we be able to use this as a runway to escape, if we could. We were all shook up a bit, but no one was hurt.
As we all stepped out of the plane, it looked like a village, yet no one seemed to be around. As we all started going our own ways kind of walking in shock, we found ourselves in two groups of five, and the Captain’s group were headed toward the big wooden hut of sorts, to see if he could talk to any of the tribes people. I was walking with the other five to the smaller huts. As we went from one hut to the next, it seemed there might have been several families to a hut, I noticed sleeping rugs, made out of sticks on the floor. Then on tables I noticed cameras of all kinds, watches, rings, jewelry.
Then being more curious I made my way with the following five, the tree woman from Barrow, and the Professor. The others were with the Captain and co-pilot; --we went into three more huts, they all had these little treasures of sorts, cameras, rings and watches, etc. It was as if they were prizes, or for that matter, trophies of sorts.
Then I got thinking we needed to catch up with the Captain, so I directed the people with me to the big hutch. There was a basement section to the hutch, and I noticed the others were down in it. It was much cooler in the lower section, and the square feet to the upper was the same as to the lower section, quite big I thought, compared to the other huts, maybe 1600-square feet.
“Troy,” said the Captain to me, “It looks like these inhabitants are not friendly creatures.” Three hours hand gone by for him to have figured that out I thought.
He added, “Let’s take our jewelry off and leave it down here so when they come they will realize we are friendly.” Everyone looked at him, and then started taking it off but me.
“Troy,” the Captain said, “You going along with this or what?”
“No, sorry Captain, but you’re not the Captain any more, only while I’m on that flying ship or yours.” I was an old soldier, and I didn’t stay alive by giving up. I was 39-years old, the Korean War; this was not the way things were done.
“Listen,” I said, I am not going to leave them anything for a trophy, and I do not see any live people looking like me walking around. Matter of fact, I see a hole in the wing by a gun, and it is most likely theirs. Second, they are most likely looking or us, and went farther East thinking that is where the plane went down, because that is the direction you went in to circle around. Third I suggest we go west 150-miles back to Iquitos. It should take 15-days, at 10-miles per day in the jungle. We should also burn this village so to let them know we are not going to be easy pickings, plus they will need to re-supply, and this will damage some of that. And we may need our jewelry to keep us alive, if we find some nice natives in this beastly jungle.
Said the Captain,
“It sounds better than my plan I have to admit, and so, where do we go from here?”
Having said that, we put torches to the rest of the village, grabbed some meat that was hanging in one of the huts, I grabbed a gun from the plane, the Captain said he never shot one. It had six bullets in its revolving chambers; it was worth its weight to carry it. Then with some skins tied to our backs, we found in the big hutch, to use for sleeping, and some skins filled with water, we headed west.
The New Journey—the Amazon
The five that were with me seemed to want to say with me, and so we both already hand our teams figured out. And so into the wild we went the deep rooted jungle. If anything we got sore feet the first six hours of walking through the jungle, trying to get to the Amazon which would be easier to follow, and we could find a boat somehow, and possible someone to help us on our trip back to Iquitos. I hand already broke a toe-nail to my big toe as I had fallen a few times, water getting into my shoes. I had taken them off for awhile, and waked bare food over the mucky slimy patches of and pools of water as we hiked through the jungle. To roots pulled my toe nail out more, and it was bleeding. The Professor fell and broke his nose trying to climb an embankment, over roots, roots and more roots. The three older women were quite tired, and so we stopped to make camp, and I tried to make a fire but everything seemed damp. After an hour I did succeed.
Then about 10:00 PM, a native came walking into our camp, I pulled my revolver out,
“No want trouble,” said the native, He was almost completely naked. He had explained he had never seen a white person before, but heard of them and that the natives I had burnt their village down were looking for me. That we were brave to that, and he added, they [his band of people] hand thought many times on doing just such a thing, when they were gone, but they had no place to go but here, and somehow it would come back to haunt them. And so that evening we were invited to their village as guests, and it couldn’t have happen at a better time.
When we got situated at the village he gave me save for my toe, and reset the Professors nose some how. The women were given hammocks to rest. And as I looked about the five huts, I noticed on top of a tree there was a man looking about, as if in a canopy that circled his village for any trouble.
“My name Mana,” he explained.
The Tarantula Hunt
Mana was very kind; we expected to stay there two day, so he would not get in trouble with the other tribe. The only problem was his tribe took a profound interest in us, and at time allowed the guards, or the one guard to get involved with the celebration, and festivities. Matter of fact, Mana, and one of main guards, Kim, or so it sounded like Kim, took me Tarantula Hunting. Well, we didn’t kill any, just went into the depths of the jungle and he took [Kim] a long stick, and found holes by some big trees and poked it down into them, waking up the tarantula’s. He did this several times, most were larger then my hand. I stepped back a bit, but not too far from Kim, and minimized his character. They, if anything seem to be a little sleepy. Yet, as we’d walk away, they’d stare and watch us, not go back into their hole until all was safe. Interesting how we all protect our property.
The Attack and the Painted Man
It was morning on the third day, we had outstayed our privilege, yet it seemed Mana didn’t want to let us go. The three older women got along well with helping the youth of the camp, and the Professor was as happy as a baby duck just walking around trying to learn their language and customs. I was more into the adventure part, and took a few walks with Mana, and a night hunt on one of the tributaries from the Amazon, looking or antecedes in a dug out boat. Man was going to point the way for us this morning. Actually he drew a map last night, and we expected to be on our way soon. As we all gathered into the center of the camp, Mana looked up in the tree at the spot Kim was suppose to be guarding, and he wasn’t there. He then looked at me, he looked a little ill, then looked about, into other areas of the high trees, some reaching over 115-feet high, but Kim was no where to be found.
It seemed out of nowhere all the birds in the trees left, Mana and I looked into each others eyes, it was as if death hit both of us at once, and at that moment, a spear went through his back, piercing his heart, and right on through him coming out and almost hitting my waist. He dropped to his knees, then several spears more came, all hitting the men first, then the women and kids. I shot three of them in the trees, but it seemed no one else hand a chance to get to a weapon, and no one else could see where the enemy was. I simply sprayed the area with bullets that the spears were coming out of. Out of six shots, I got three of the enemy. And I stood there, just stood there with bodies all around. I saw from a distance a tall, very tall lean man, with a painted face. He didn’t come close to me, he kept his distance, possible for two reasons I thought, one I hand the gun, and he didn’t know how many bullets it hand, and two, he wanted to show me what my presence created. The professor and the three women were dead, Mana, Kim, wherever he may be, and the twenty or so tribe’s people. It was a hell of a day.
The painted man, walked away, as did every one else. And then I seen a spear coming towards me, I knew I was dead [I wanted him to turn around but he didn’t]…………………………………….dead.
Dennis' first story [part one] of the now, ongoing drama of "The Plane from Iquitos," was origianlly done in 2003, and published in the book, "Draculas's Ghost," and then part two was done in 2004, and now part three. The forth part is in draft from, and part one has not yet made it to the Spanish side of town, but I am hoping it will soon; although part two and three have. Dennis lives in Lima, Peru, and has been in Iquitos, and down the Amazon, so it is a little like his backyard. Rosa Penaloza
The Plane from Iquitos
Part Two
The Ritual of Chief Evil-Eye
Captain Derry and the others had headed into the thick of the jungle, had no idea what had happened to the old soldiers, and his followers, that being: the old soldier himself, and the professor, along with Martha and her two women friends, and the chief: Mana, and his body guard, Kana. They were of course all slain, and now the chief of the other tribe, the one they were running from, had piled up the bodies, tied them upside down by their legs and carried them two per stick through the jungle to an opening of the Amazon, wherein they were going to put them on a craft, and set fire to the bodies and craft, sending it down the river, where they had come from. It served two purposes: the bodies would burn, and no one would be the wiser that they had come, no bodies to find a year, or ten years down the road. Plus, the chief, had admired the bravery of the old soldier, and this was to show his respects. The chief, whom was called ‘Evil Eye,’ dreadfully tall and ugly, but build strong, and all but naked, had painted his face with his wildly fruit colored paints, like a leopard, and had just burnt the village they conquered, of Chief Mana, sent back to their village some thirty plus warriors, and he and several others headed for the river.
--It had been a number of days now since the small group of five left the other group of five—their idea being, if one group didn’t make it out alive the other would, and would have a better chance if they separated, and yet, trouble had seemed to find them anyway, for as they had neared the river, within several miles of it, of which they were some twenty-five miles inland from the Amazon river, and another one-hundred miles upriver from Iquitos, when Captain Derry and Lora, had stepped onto and into a sink-hole, dropping some thirty-plus feet, mostly sliding on the side of mud and roots, and finding themselves by an underground stream. There was no way to climb out, nor rope to assist them should they try. Henry, yelling, had suggested they follow the river, it seemed feasible underground, and they’d follow it above ground and they’d meet at the rivers edge. Both parties agreed.
Henry, and the couple, Dane and Kim, found themselves now heading again on their journey, their fight to keep ahead of Evil-Eye, and his hordes, should they meet up with them, they had no idea of his viciousness, other than their time they had spent at their village when their plane had been shot down by them. And the old soldier had insisted on burning the village, and that infuriated the tribe, yet, as they were learning, Evil-Eye, needed little or nothing to provoke him, just the sight of another unfamiliar person would trigger his anger, and warriors spirit.
Two days had passed since Captain Derry and Lora had fallen down into the sink hole, and Henry, the co-pilot, Dana and Kim were becoming weather-beaten for the most part. It was difficult to walk hour after hour over roots, and dodge snakes and being eaten by a locust of flying creatures, and an army of ants all over the place. Sometimes the ants had a mile long trail, where you’d see them carrying bits and pieces of leafs five times their weight and height, and then come upon a huge mound, a hill that looked more like someone on the beach had built a castle, and forgot the walls. In any case, said Henry to Kim as they rested, the sun creeping through the towering river of green overhead,
“I can almost feel, if not taste the river ahead of us.”
Said Kim with a joyful, and whimsy voice: “Yes, yes, my wife and I will be glad to get back to Iquitos, you know it was simply a ride down the river, and it has all lead into to this dark and gloomy episode in our lives. Unbelievable.”
“Yaw, but you can’t figure out when and where trouble will be, it lurks in the area, just creeps in if it isn’t in Iquitos itself, it’s here, or there. Once we get to the river Kim, we’ll see if we can find a craft of some kind, a lot of natives leave their boats, dug-outs, what have you, tied to the riverbanks, we’ll borrow one, and I’d say, another ninety-miles to Iquitos down river, and we’ll be home.” Dana was laying against a huge tree when Henry noticed a tarantula surfacing from a dugout hole by a tree, under one of its huge roots, her left leg was lying against it.
Said Henry, with a calm and soothing voice: “Don’t move when you feel something on you Dana,” she immediately looked at Henry, with a frown, said,
“What do you mean?” Then felt something crawling on her leg.
“Can I look…?” she said in a terrified voice.
“Only if you do not panic,” said Henry, then added softly to Kim, “Keep her calm, I will kill it should I need to, but it will just crawl over her, and most likely that will be that.”
Next, Henry stood up, grabbed a stick, while Kim smiled at Dana, as Dana now saw the hair like creature as big as a large persons hand: a giant spider she cried, but cried softly, without moving her body, only trembling, as it moved slowly over her leg and then over to the other side and over that leg and then by the other roots. Then she got up, let her breath out of her mouth and ran to Kim.
“Well, it’s, I suppose it’s time to get moving…” said Henry with a misled tone of relief.
Several more hours had passed, and they now could see the river ahead, as they started to step out of the towering tree canapé of the jungle onto amore plateau area that was more long grass, than anything. The sky was somewhat cloudy, it looked like it had rained a few hours back with its fogy-blindng mist, and the grass was still a little wet. There were three boats about fifty feet up river, tied to a stick that was pushed into mud. Smiles had filled both their faces.
As they rested, after several minutes, Henry got back up look around for the opening where the underground stream might meet the river, but the tall grass was so thick, and tall, it could not be found, possible he was thinking this would be a good place to camp, and wait for Captain Derry and Lora, but before he could think another thought, he noticed several heads popping out of the foliage in an opening about a hundred yards from where they came out of the jungle. His heart started beating fast, Kim and Dana whom were sitting on the grass by the rivers edge stood up quickly they all looked at one another, about thirty feet away, taken looked again at the small caravan of natives coming, the tall chief, Evil-Eyes, looked shocked as he seen the three, he had thought, exactly what the two groups had intended him to think, that there was only one group, now he not only felt (fooled) taken as a naive leader, but stultified in the process.
“Run, lets all run to the boats,” yelled Henry, and they all took off as fast as they could go. The grass was so high, that it cut their speed aversively, to a fast walk, and hard at that: hence, pushing and jumping, and trying to run, but unable to. The chief had yelled something, and Henry turned around to see how close behind they were: and they were behind him about one hundred feet, stood still a native with a long, very long dart-shooter, he blew in it and a long thin dart came shooting out, hitting Henry in the chest, sharp as a needles edge; then Kim fell to the ground and Dana followed. They had put some kind of paralyzing substance on the tips of the darts of the blow-guns: the guns being some three to four feet long—tube like cylinders, reeds with holes in them.
The next thing Henry noticed was they were tied up by the river, a giant of a native named Big Iguana was standing guard over them. As the chief and the other five natives got a craft ready putting the bodies of the old Soldier, the Professor, the three women and two other natives on the pile, lit it, and pushed the craft out into the wide and long windy river, it going with the flow of the river. It was ablaze as it shifted about trying to find it course. Then they all came to hover over them, to speculate, to ask the one main question:
“Are you the only ones left, or are there more?” said the chief. Dana and Kim looked at Henry, no one smiled, yet the look Dana gave Henry was uncomplicated: if we had to, we’d tell, it was just a matter of torture and/or time, and it would come out. Said Henry, stuttering a bit,
“No o ooo ww-one but us-ss, we are the last of the group,” but the chief for some anomalous reason didn’t’ believe him, he said,
“You look up and you look down, but not into my face, so you are thinking, picturing what your friends are doing, O yes, you are feeling also for them as for yourself. Full of emotion are you.” The chief’s big ugly face in his face now, his big dark eyes, his big black and brown face, teeth like an elephants, sharp like a snakes.
Then they built a fire on the shore, created a rotisserie of sorts, as if to cook a pig. The arrows that had paralyzed all three, the effects were now coming off. And then, the chief asked Henry the second time,
“Where are they, and how many are there in the third group,” but Henry, being stubborn said not a word. It would seem at this point, the chief was not going to harm anyone, yet his ways were different, he had a hunger, malice in his soul. He didn’t forecast anything, he knew ahead of time what he’d do, and it was just a matter of others finding out when it actually happened. Thus, like an earthquake erupting out of nowhere it would happen, as in a surprise attack: the chief now grabbed two spears, both at once as to impress the co-pilot, and within the next second, the long spears had cut through the flesh of two hearts, and both Dana and Kim fell backwards. Henry’s eyes opened as wide as a full moon, he was astonish, and now could only imagine what had happened to the other group.
“And now will you tell me what I want to know?” Henry knew once he told he’d die, surely die, and so looked the other way. At that point, the chief, took Kim, put him in a boat, and told the Big Iguana, he was going to take him down river about ten miles, to the dark waters of one of the tributaries, and feed him to the piranha, but first things first he implied to his several men. First we eat
in front of Henry, they took Dana, cut her limps off, and cooked them as cannibals, and ate her. Actually offered Henry some, but he was too sick to say no or yes. What was going on in his mind as he lay in the grass wondering what his destiny was: should Captain Derry and Lora appear, their destiny would be no better than his. He looked about, trying to figure out where the entrance to his underground stream came out. The chief looked at him as he looked traced—his every eye contact.
Honey
It was now forenoon, and the heat of the day was piercing down upon the river and its jungle, and its inhabitants. The chief now had given instructions to Big Iguana, that he’d be back soon, and then they’d go get the other group, but should the group surface before he return, that he should kill this man called Henry, and then wait for his return, whereupon, they’d all go hunting again for the new group.
After the instructions were given, in a moment’s time they were on their way. Then Big Iguana, some seven feet tall, possible 300-pounds, tied the feet of Henry, not asking him any more, any questions, just tying him, and then he had lifted him like a baby onto his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, and headed into the jungle. Then setting him down, as softly as a kitchen, he went over to a tree, tore some bark off it, drained some sap from it, then after filing the better portion of a large leaf with it, he stripped Henry, rubbing the sap all over his body, then he carried him high up into the tree, found a secure branch, and tide his feet a second time around the huge branch, as now he hung upside down.
He then went and got more of the sap, painting the tree from where Henry was to the bottom, by where a huge ant hill was, and guided the ants to the sap and watched them make their way up the long hundred foot tree, sitting back looking up as if he was in his glory. Why man gets their kicks out of the sufferings of another Henry could not figure out, what would it do for his appetite, did it really fill him up to see this. Then he noticed a huge snake, some ten feet long on a higher branch above him, and Big Iguana had missed it.
Henry had an idea, it would possible be his last idea should it not work, but none-the-less, it was as it was.
The Snake
Henry started to sake the branch, he knew he might fall, or even maybe the snake above him might fall, but so be it, his plan was in the makings, and it was all he had (if providence was not on h is side, than no one was). And so he moved his body to and fro, making the branch quiver, as Big Iguana watched what he was up to, and as he moved about, the rope that tied his feet loosened up, and the branch was moving with him now, making his movements almost automatic in rhythm with the branch.
Big Iguana got somewhat nervous, that his prey might fall and break his neck before the third party surfaced, and his chief would not be all that pleased with him, so he started to climb the big tree for the second time, bringing up some more rope to tie his feet even more secure. When he had reached the top, he moved slowly out onto the branch, and trying to hold Henry’s feet still, the branch now feeling a little weak, he stood up, put his hand above his head to secure a better hold onto the tree, and found his hand in the mouth of the big Anaconda, and with a snap, he fell backwards, without a hand, down, down, down, on to the ground; henceforth, the snake then falling from the tree onto the huge being below, and like a rat to a mouse, the Anaconda pulled his dinner into the thick of the flora.
But should he fall from this distance he’d die instantly, but then it was just a matter of time before the ants ate him alive, or the chief would come back and kill him, or think of another way to torment him to death. The third possibility was the Captain would find him. Therefore, it was to his advantage he told himself, to wait a while longer and see where it all would end up.
Captain Derry
Another hour had passed, Henry knew he couldn’t last, and so he tired aimlessly with what little strength he had left to shake the branch, and it broke, and he fell, and he died. The Captain had come out of a cave entrance, or in this case exit, to find the cloths of his friends, Dana and Kim, by the river. Lora hugging the Captain could only imagine what took place. After a moment of grief, they both knew they had to hurry, for it seemed always time was of the essence in this part of the jungle, and therefore they grabbed hold of one of the small dugout vessels tied to a river post, and with an oar [more of a pole, with a flat end] made there escape out and into the river.
--At this time, the chief had just dropped the other body into the piranha infested dark waters of an offshoot of the river, down river about ten miles. They ate the body within minutes, pulling as they do the flesh and devouring it as if it was delicious.
As they had achieved their goal, and were on their way out of the side arm of the river, leading into the massive Amazon now, there in the distance was the fiery craft, the ritual craft, they had set ablaze earlier they noticed: then coming up river a ways, was a small dugout, as the Chief and his six hordes, along with their one big boat pointing in the direction, head on with the dugout, noticed. And likewise, Captain Derry noticed the big craft of Amazonians coming towards him.
Notes on this Story: I had felt when I did the first part of this story, “The Plane to Iquitos,” I would either leave it alone, or do a second part, knowing the second group had yet to find their destination. But I had not been in a sink hole per se, so I couldn’t ever figure out the second part and left it alone, yet had the idea in the back of my head, and had to go back to my journey in the Amazon I took some years back. Thus, in the process of doing this the story came alive to me one morning, and I quote from my notes: “I had woke up this morning, and trying to get out of bed this second part was haunting me, and the ending was coming, or beginning, or for that matter the whole second part, the problem was, now there had to be a third part, for the second did not close the doors to the whole story, it only got him through the thick of the Amazon….” So it seems to me, I need to come up with a third part, if ever I can. Part one was put into the book, “Dracula’s Ghost.” Part one was completed in 2003; part two, was in 2004, previously not published; and part three was completed 2005, still in draft form.
The Plane from Iquitos
Part Three [a month later, l959]
Captain Derry and the Pink Dolphins
Evil Eye
[Interlude] Things can get mysterious, if not down right sinister for lack of a better word, in the chaotic waters of the Amazon, more so than any other river, and I have been on most every river in he world that counts; yes, the mightiest river on earth is the Amazon, and I’ve swam it felt its underwater creatures swimming around my bare legs. It holds seven times the amount of water any other river on the globe does, and is the longest river in one direction; and produces more water flow than any other water source on earth. And has countless tributaries, or arms linking into and out of its body; one could get lost easily; it is as wide as forty miles at some points along its snake like figure. And what you least expect, is what you might get, like pink dolphins, or eaten up by Purina; oh yes, there are two sides to the coin, is there not. If you say it’s not possible, than you have not been on the Amazon, and I have. But here is part three to Captain Derry’s adventure, a lot different than mine.
In part one, Captain Derry was flying a plane from Iquitos, and was shot down by a tribesman, whereupon he and the planes ten passengers formed two groups, each going their own way within the thick of the Amazon. The first group getting slaughtered by the Chief and archenemy of another tribe; the second group, in their run to escape the thick of the jungle to the waters of the Amazon, some almost made it, but at the end, it was only the good Captain that ended up on the boat heading back to Iquitos. And now Captain Derry is heading down the river and the Chief has spotted him, that is, he and his two vessels full of tribal members. One boat being quite large the other rather small; now the chase begins.
Captain Derry saw the two boats chasing him, or at least it seemed that way, and so with every bone and muscle in his body he took the long shaped oar, broke it in half and started to row like a madman; as the king, the chief of the tribe, Old Evil Eyes pursued him. A deep mist: a maddening cloud pounded in his head, quivering his almost dead shape of a body: wherein he gained some distance from the two vessels of the chief’s, but his escape was slow in coming, for the chief was gaining distance rapidly.
This escape went on for several hours; wherever the captain was getting his energy from—was a surprise to the pursuers; perchance he was more reptile and the sun was energizing him—the chief was impressed, so much so, he stopped the boats, and with incantations he called upon the shapes of his dead ancestors to appear; shadows from the dust of time. Hence, they appeared and having done so, the shadows with little form, chased the Captain in his vessel; pounding him, pulling on him, jerking the vessel trying to tip it over. Yet, even though the shapes and shadows surround his dugout like boat, the shadows, and their monstrous boldness in attacking nonstop, as he rowed the craft, tired the evil spirits out. He, (He being: Captain Derry] in consequence, told his nightmare to vanish, but it wouldn’t and thus, they paid no attention, until the morbid spirits, with their sinister movements, tipped over the little vessel: thereupon, they left the scene.
At this point, the Captain was floating in the waters of the Amazon loosely, limp as a dead fish, too weak to turn the boat back right side up; as I have said, the spirits had disappeared, and so did the two boats belonging to the chief, but being so week, he was a good as dead: but if this was the case, as you already know, the story must end, and it is not about to end yet. Hence, he concluded he’d had to accept the inevitable; he’d drawn sooner or later.
After four hours of hanging onto the boats protruding keel he let go and to his surprise two pink dolphins hit his chest as they swam by; not large by any means, yet—not small either. And then they came back, and hit his chest again, and again and again. And that was the only thing he could remember when he woke up: dolphins, pink dolphins returning to hit his chest, but when he awoke, he was on the shores of Iquitos, the Peruvian city along the Amazon. Ah! could fate be so kind, perhaps only in such a story as this you are thinking, but there are pink dolphins in the Amazon, and I swam in the Amazon, as I have previous mentioned, and saw them, felt them. The dolphins evidently had made a kind of barrage, and with balance put him over their backs and being but a few miles from Iquitos, gave him a lift, one might say: since his babbling was constant as he unknowingly met officials of the city in “Iquitos (I was on a plan from IQUITOS!) He was not well though when he was brought into the hospital. Physiologically and psychologically, he was bonkers, as one might say; oddities seemed to surface from his remarks, and body twitches. A mental disturbance was evident.
The Hospital
When Captain Derry was brought into the hospital, several of his friends were notified, for he had been gone more than a month. No one had found his airplane, and the best reasoning was that he was dead. When a few friends had stopped over to see him, Matthew Henry, his closest friend for some twenty-years, and a co-pilot of his in the past, really couldn’t recognize the thirty-seven year old buddy of his. He had aged way beyond his years it seemed. Although his doctor, Dr. Sowell, assured him it was he, and that mental illness ages a person substantially faster; although this was out of the ordinary. So much so, she gave him a complete physical, finding his heart beat was not irregular but weak; his digestive system was not working properly—but working nonetheless, and would not digest food fast enough, and yet she did not provide a pathological reason at this juncture, nor diagnosis, or prognoses. Everything was conjecture.
Unmarried, and with no family living back home in the United States, it was simply his co-pilot, friend Matthew whom would visit him, come the following days of recovery. Yet the good doctor took a special interest into what she called: “This Special Case.”
Said she to the Hospital Staff, and to the Psychologist Thomas Manning, during an inquiry of this case, and in the presence of Matthew, whom at this time was seemingly becoming his guardian to speak of: “For all intent, Mr. Derry should not be alive, his metabolism is retarded, and his stomach area has some deep holes in it; from what the Captain says, in his whimpering dialogue with me, is that pink dolphins carried him to the shores of the city.” All the doctors, several at a square table along with Matthew, looked at Patricia Sowell in a mystic manner. Yet she was renowned for her acute observations. She added: “I do think as time goes by, even at this moment, he has a ting of madness in him, and yet I do suppose some of what he experienced must be reality. Our best bet at this point is to place him in confinement for insanity; there we can try to resolve whatever mystery seeps within his brain”; turning toward Dr. Manning as if to wish for his concurrence.
Matthew not liking this took a turn for the worse, and walked out of the room, while the others agreed verbally with the Doctor.
In the days following no one knew what took place in the jungle, as she tried to talk to him to find out, there were many gaps, and concealments of knowledge, and no hypnosis to stand the test of reality; furthermore, he was too rigid, too anxious to participate in any in-depth conversations. In short, Captain Derry had lost all regards for mankind.
The Hospital
[and conclusion]
Several months had gone by, and Mr. Derry was committed to the psychiatric ward of the hospital. No one quite knew what to make of him, to assist on his behalf, or what had happened to him in the jungle (one must remember this was 1959, and in the Peruvian jungles): did he get a fever some asked, or use an excessive amount of hashish, thus describing many things that could have produced delirium, his now cosmic projections, dreams that haunted him: he could not longer enjoy life without the dead being part of his thoughts; he now belonged to an alien world, an entity of a lost world of his. As time went on, delirium tremens and terrestrial images continued, they came close to killing him so much so they caused him intensification in his mannerisms; distortions in his thinking; visual frightening images for his system to digest; thus, coming close to having a heart attack several times. How would he live, seeped through his mind; his thinking now being all messed up.
Dennis Siluk, author and poet's books can be seen on the internet, at most book dealers. He has experienced the Amazon, in its waters, and jungels. I get the feeling there could be a part four coming.
It was December 2, l959, I was sitting on a small prop-plane leaving Iquitos, Peru for a trip down the Amazon toward the opening, the mouth of the mighty Amazon,--to Manaus. As we flew low one could see the waters of the Amazon, the city always impressed me, but more from this birds-eye view, you could see the mighty river in its squid like form, with all it tentacles [contributories: waters linking to the river]. It would get smaller, and then wider as you flew along it’s stretched out body, it was four miles wide at one point, and that was nothing compared to other spots of the Amazon? In the jungle area, it was a sea of green, nothing but towering green. It was said it could produce as much water flow as the any seven other largest rivers in the world. It was they said the longest river in the world, seemingly always debating it with the length of Nile. There were eight passengers to include me, the pilot and co-pilot, making us ten in all.
I liked Iquitos, especially the Iron House, the very one made by none other then Mr. Eiffel, the one who made the tower in Paris. I had eaten for the first time Pirana Roia, it was delicious, except for the many bones, and the fish wasn’t all the big once you cut the head off, although the teeth looked like a baby sharks, dead and unpleasing. I had caught a few fishing, it there was a secret to that. I used a stick for a fishing rod, and tied a string on it with a semi-big hook, and put a big piece of meat on it. Then when the fish took hold of it, the Pirana that is, he doesn’t chew it, or even bit into it like other fish, he rips it outward, and so at first touch, the fisher man has to yank it upward to hook the fish right under his upper teeth. He had a big low jaw, but a small upper portion to his head so if you do not do this he will not be hooked. Actually you may hook his upper teeth for they extend out as does the lower one.
As we continued to fly down the river about 125-miles we started to go inland form the river, t he view was tremendous, the height of the trees. With my binoculars I could see what the co-pilot called the big lazy bird up in the trees; we were less then 100-feet over the top of the trees, and some of the monkeys. Then all of a sudden I heard a shot, it hit the wing, and then another. The co-pilot, Henry, looked out my window didn’t see anything unusual, then Captain Derry, came in,
“We’ve been hit by something, we’re loosing fuel, not sure exactly where we can land but I’ll see,” then he went back to his cock-pit. All eight of us now were looking out the window. There was Mary and John, from Hong Kong, both spoke good English, and then there was Lora from someplace in Florida, she was an accountant on a single trip, leaving her boyfriend and women friend who both did not want to come on the trip for personal reasons, thus, she said if they didn’t want to come it shouldn’t stop her from doing what she wanted, and it didn’t. There was the man from Budapest of all places a professor of some kind, I just called him Professor, he also was alone. Then there was the three women from some place in the South West, they were on a world tour of sorts, and had left Barrow, Alaska. Martha, the elder of the three elder women was most chatty, and talked about her walking 500-feet out onto the ice, and standing on a frozen wave. She was courageous for sure. I never did get the other two women’s names.
And now the plane started to lower itself, I seen an opening, several huts, one big one was below us. The pilot circled the area. In the center was room like a ball park, or simply a wife open space, he was going to try and land it there. It wasn’t all that big, but big enough.
Twenty Minutes Later
The Village
Somehow we hand landed, but the front end of the plane went head first into one of the several huts, one wheel broke off and now way would we be able to use this as a runway to escape, if we could. We were all shook up a bit, but no one was hurt.
As we all stepped out of the plane, it looked like a village, yet no one seemed to be around. As we all started going our own ways kind of walking in shock, we found ourselves in two groups of five, and the Captain’s group were headed toward the big wooden hut of sorts, to see if he could talk to any of the tribes people. I was walking with the other five to the smaller huts. As we went from one hut to the next, it seemed there might have been several families to a hut, I noticed sleeping rugs, made out of sticks on the floor. Then on tables I noticed cameras of all kinds, watches, rings, jewelry.
Then being more curious I made my way with the following five, the tree woman from Barrow, and the Professor. The others were with the Captain and co-pilot; --we went into three more huts, they all had these little treasures of sorts, cameras, rings and watches, etc. It was as if they were prizes, or for that matter, trophies of sorts.
Then I got thinking we needed to catch up with the Captain, so I directed the people with me to the big hutch. There was a basement section to the hutch, and I noticed the others were down in it. It was much cooler in the lower section, and the square feet to the upper was the same as to the lower section, quite big I thought, compared to the other huts, maybe 1600-square feet.
“Troy,” said the Captain to me, “It looks like these inhabitants are not friendly creatures.” Three hours hand gone by for him to have figured that out I thought.
He added, “Let’s take our jewelry off and leave it down here so when they come they will realize we are friendly.” Everyone looked at him, and then started taking it off but me.
“Troy,” the Captain said, “You going along with this or what?”
“No, sorry Captain, but you’re not the Captain any more, only while I’m on that flying ship or yours.” I was an old soldier, and I didn’t stay alive by giving up. I was 39-years old, the Korean War; this was not the way things were done.
“Listen,” I said, I am not going to leave them anything for a trophy, and I do not see any live people looking like me walking around. Matter of fact, I see a hole in the wing by a gun, and it is most likely theirs. Second, they are most likely looking or us, and went farther East thinking that is where the plane went down, because that is the direction you went in to circle around. Third I suggest we go west 150-miles back to Iquitos. It should take 15-days, at 10-miles per day in the jungle. We should also burn this village so to let them know we are not going to be easy pickings, plus they will need to re-supply, and this will damage some of that. And we may need our jewelry to keep us alive, if we find some nice natives in this beastly jungle.
Said the Captain,
“It sounds better than my plan I have to admit, and so, where do we go from here?”
Having said that, we put torches to the rest of the village, grabbed some meat that was hanging in one of the huts, I grabbed a gun from the plane, the Captain said he never shot one. It had six bullets in its revolving chambers; it was worth its weight to carry it. Then with some skins tied to our backs, we found in the big hutch, to use for sleeping, and some skins filled with water, we headed west.
The New Journey—the Amazon
The five that were with me seemed to want to say with me, and so we both already hand our teams figured out. And so into the wild we went the deep rooted jungle. If anything we got sore feet the first six hours of walking through the jungle, trying to get to the Amazon which would be easier to follow, and we could find a boat somehow, and possible someone to help us on our trip back to Iquitos. I hand already broke a toe-nail to my big toe as I had fallen a few times, water getting into my shoes. I had taken them off for awhile, and waked bare food over the mucky slimy patches of and pools of water as we hiked through the jungle. To roots pulled my toe nail out more, and it was bleeding. The Professor fell and broke his nose trying to climb an embankment, over roots, roots and more roots. The three older women were quite tired, and so we stopped to make camp, and I tried to make a fire but everything seemed damp. After an hour I did succeed.
Then about 10:00 PM, a native came walking into our camp, I pulled my revolver out,
“No want trouble,” said the native, He was almost completely naked. He had explained he had never seen a white person before, but heard of them and that the natives I had burnt their village down were looking for me. That we were brave to that, and he added, they [his band of people] hand thought many times on doing just such a thing, when they were gone, but they had no place to go but here, and somehow it would come back to haunt them. And so that evening we were invited to their village as guests, and it couldn’t have happen at a better time.
When we got situated at the village he gave me save for my toe, and reset the Professors nose some how. The women were given hammocks to rest. And as I looked about the five huts, I noticed on top of a tree there was a man looking about, as if in a canopy that circled his village for any trouble.
“My name Mana,” he explained.
The Tarantula Hunt
Mana was very kind; we expected to stay there two day, so he would not get in trouble with the other tribe. The only problem was his tribe took a profound interest in us, and at time allowed the guards, or the one guard to get involved with the celebration, and festivities. Matter of fact, Mana, and one of main guards, Kim, or so it sounded like Kim, took me Tarantula Hunting. Well, we didn’t kill any, just went into the depths of the jungle and he took [Kim] a long stick, and found holes by some big trees and poked it down into them, waking up the tarantula’s. He did this several times, most were larger then my hand. I stepped back a bit, but not too far from Kim, and minimized his character. They, if anything seem to be a little sleepy. Yet, as we’d walk away, they’d stare and watch us, not go back into their hole until all was safe. Interesting how we all protect our property.
The Attack and the Painted Man
It was morning on the third day, we had outstayed our privilege, yet it seemed Mana didn’t want to let us go. The three older women got along well with helping the youth of the camp, and the Professor was as happy as a baby duck just walking around trying to learn their language and customs. I was more into the adventure part, and took a few walks with Mana, and a night hunt on one of the tributaries from the Amazon, looking or antecedes in a dug out boat. Man was going to point the way for us this morning. Actually he drew a map last night, and we expected to be on our way soon. As we all gathered into the center of the camp, Mana looked up in the tree at the spot Kim was suppose to be guarding, and he wasn’t there. He then looked at me, he looked a little ill, then looked about, into other areas of the high trees, some reaching over 115-feet high, but Kim was no where to be found.
It seemed out of nowhere all the birds in the trees left, Mana and I looked into each others eyes, it was as if death hit both of us at once, and at that moment, a spear went through his back, piercing his heart, and right on through him coming out and almost hitting my waist. He dropped to his knees, then several spears more came, all hitting the men first, then the women and kids. I shot three of them in the trees, but it seemed no one else hand a chance to get to a weapon, and no one else could see where the enemy was. I simply sprayed the area with bullets that the spears were coming out of. Out of six shots, I got three of the enemy. And I stood there, just stood there with bodies all around. I saw from a distance a tall, very tall lean man, with a painted face. He didn’t come close to me, he kept his distance, possible for two reasons I thought, one I hand the gun, and he didn’t know how many bullets it hand, and two, he wanted to show me what my presence created. The professor and the three women were dead, Mana, Kim, wherever he may be, and the twenty or so tribe’s people. It was a hell of a day.
The painted man, walked away, as did every one else. And then I seen a spear coming towards me, I knew I was dead [I wanted him to turn around but he didn’t]…………………………………….dead.
Dennis' first story [part one] of the now, ongoing drama of "The Plane from Iquitos," was origianlly done in 2003, and published in the book, "Draculas's Ghost," and then part two was done in 2004, and now part three. The forth part is in draft from, and part one has not yet made it to the Spanish side of town, but I am hoping it will soon; although part two and three have. Dennis lives in Lima, Peru, and has been in Iquitos, and down the Amazon, so it is a little like his backyard. Rosa Penaloza
The Plane from Iquitos
Part Two
The Ritual of Chief Evil-Eye
Captain Derry and the others had headed into the thick of the jungle, had no idea what had happened to the old soldiers, and his followers, that being: the old soldier himself, and the professor, along with Martha and her two women friends, and the chief: Mana, and his body guard, Kana. They were of course all slain, and now the chief of the other tribe, the one they were running from, had piled up the bodies, tied them upside down by their legs and carried them two per stick through the jungle to an opening of the Amazon, wherein they were going to put them on a craft, and set fire to the bodies and craft, sending it down the river, where they had come from. It served two purposes: the bodies would burn, and no one would be the wiser that they had come, no bodies to find a year, or ten years down the road. Plus, the chief, had admired the bravery of the old soldier, and this was to show his respects. The chief, whom was called ‘Evil Eye,’ dreadfully tall and ugly, but build strong, and all but naked, had painted his face with his wildly fruit colored paints, like a leopard, and had just burnt the village they conquered, of Chief Mana, sent back to their village some thirty plus warriors, and he and several others headed for the river.
--It had been a number of days now since the small group of five left the other group of five—their idea being, if one group didn’t make it out alive the other would, and would have a better chance if they separated, and yet, trouble had seemed to find them anyway, for as they had neared the river, within several miles of it, of which they were some twenty-five miles inland from the Amazon river, and another one-hundred miles upriver from Iquitos, when Captain Derry and Lora, had stepped onto and into a sink-hole, dropping some thirty-plus feet, mostly sliding on the side of mud and roots, and finding themselves by an underground stream. There was no way to climb out, nor rope to assist them should they try. Henry, yelling, had suggested they follow the river, it seemed feasible underground, and they’d follow it above ground and they’d meet at the rivers edge. Both parties agreed.
Henry, and the couple, Dane and Kim, found themselves now heading again on their journey, their fight to keep ahead of Evil-Eye, and his hordes, should they meet up with them, they had no idea of his viciousness, other than their time they had spent at their village when their plane had been shot down by them. And the old soldier had insisted on burning the village, and that infuriated the tribe, yet, as they were learning, Evil-Eye, needed little or nothing to provoke him, just the sight of another unfamiliar person would trigger his anger, and warriors spirit.
Two days had passed since Captain Derry and Lora had fallen down into the sink hole, and Henry, the co-pilot, Dana and Kim were becoming weather-beaten for the most part. It was difficult to walk hour after hour over roots, and dodge snakes and being eaten by a locust of flying creatures, and an army of ants all over the place. Sometimes the ants had a mile long trail, where you’d see them carrying bits and pieces of leafs five times their weight and height, and then come upon a huge mound, a hill that looked more like someone on the beach had built a castle, and forgot the walls. In any case, said Henry to Kim as they rested, the sun creeping through the towering river of green overhead,
“I can almost feel, if not taste the river ahead of us.”
Said Kim with a joyful, and whimsy voice: “Yes, yes, my wife and I will be glad to get back to Iquitos, you know it was simply a ride down the river, and it has all lead into to this dark and gloomy episode in our lives. Unbelievable.”
“Yaw, but you can’t figure out when and where trouble will be, it lurks in the area, just creeps in if it isn’t in Iquitos itself, it’s here, or there. Once we get to the river Kim, we’ll see if we can find a craft of some kind, a lot of natives leave their boats, dug-outs, what have you, tied to the riverbanks, we’ll borrow one, and I’d say, another ninety-miles to Iquitos down river, and we’ll be home.” Dana was laying against a huge tree when Henry noticed a tarantula surfacing from a dugout hole by a tree, under one of its huge roots, her left leg was lying against it.
Said Henry, with a calm and soothing voice: “Don’t move when you feel something on you Dana,” she immediately looked at Henry, with a frown, said,
“What do you mean?” Then felt something crawling on her leg.
“Can I look…?” she said in a terrified voice.
“Only if you do not panic,” said Henry, then added softly to Kim, “Keep her calm, I will kill it should I need to, but it will just crawl over her, and most likely that will be that.”
Next, Henry stood up, grabbed a stick, while Kim smiled at Dana, as Dana now saw the hair like creature as big as a large persons hand: a giant spider she cried, but cried softly, without moving her body, only trembling, as it moved slowly over her leg and then over to the other side and over that leg and then by the other roots. Then she got up, let her breath out of her mouth and ran to Kim.
“Well, it’s, I suppose it’s time to get moving…” said Henry with a misled tone of relief.
Several more hours had passed, and they now could see the river ahead, as they started to step out of the towering tree canapé of the jungle onto amore plateau area that was more long grass, than anything. The sky was somewhat cloudy, it looked like it had rained a few hours back with its fogy-blindng mist, and the grass was still a little wet. There were three boats about fifty feet up river, tied to a stick that was pushed into mud. Smiles had filled both their faces.
As they rested, after several minutes, Henry got back up look around for the opening where the underground stream might meet the river, but the tall grass was so thick, and tall, it could not be found, possible he was thinking this would be a good place to camp, and wait for Captain Derry and Lora, but before he could think another thought, he noticed several heads popping out of the foliage in an opening about a hundred yards from where they came out of the jungle. His heart started beating fast, Kim and Dana whom were sitting on the grass by the rivers edge stood up quickly they all looked at one another, about thirty feet away, taken looked again at the small caravan of natives coming, the tall chief, Evil-Eyes, looked shocked as he seen the three, he had thought, exactly what the two groups had intended him to think, that there was only one group, now he not only felt (fooled) taken as a naive leader, but stultified in the process.
“Run, lets all run to the boats,” yelled Henry, and they all took off as fast as they could go. The grass was so high, that it cut their speed aversively, to a fast walk, and hard at that: hence, pushing and jumping, and trying to run, but unable to. The chief had yelled something, and Henry turned around to see how close behind they were: and they were behind him about one hundred feet, stood still a native with a long, very long dart-shooter, he blew in it and a long thin dart came shooting out, hitting Henry in the chest, sharp as a needles edge; then Kim fell to the ground and Dana followed. They had put some kind of paralyzing substance on the tips of the darts of the blow-guns: the guns being some three to four feet long—tube like cylinders, reeds with holes in them.
The next thing Henry noticed was they were tied up by the river, a giant of a native named Big Iguana was standing guard over them. As the chief and the other five natives got a craft ready putting the bodies of the old Soldier, the Professor, the three women and two other natives on the pile, lit it, and pushed the craft out into the wide and long windy river, it going with the flow of the river. It was ablaze as it shifted about trying to find it course. Then they all came to hover over them, to speculate, to ask the one main question:
“Are you the only ones left, or are there more?” said the chief. Dana and Kim looked at Henry, no one smiled, yet the look Dana gave Henry was uncomplicated: if we had to, we’d tell, it was just a matter of torture and/or time, and it would come out. Said Henry, stuttering a bit,
“No o ooo ww-one but us-ss, we are the last of the group,” but the chief for some anomalous reason didn’t’ believe him, he said,
“You look up and you look down, but not into my face, so you are thinking, picturing what your friends are doing, O yes, you are feeling also for them as for yourself. Full of emotion are you.” The chief’s big ugly face in his face now, his big dark eyes, his big black and brown face, teeth like an elephants, sharp like a snakes.
Then they built a fire on the shore, created a rotisserie of sorts, as if to cook a pig. The arrows that had paralyzed all three, the effects were now coming off. And then, the chief asked Henry the second time,
“Where are they, and how many are there in the third group,” but Henry, being stubborn said not a word. It would seem at this point, the chief was not going to harm anyone, yet his ways were different, he had a hunger, malice in his soul. He didn’t forecast anything, he knew ahead of time what he’d do, and it was just a matter of others finding out when it actually happened. Thus, like an earthquake erupting out of nowhere it would happen, as in a surprise attack: the chief now grabbed two spears, both at once as to impress the co-pilot, and within the next second, the long spears had cut through the flesh of two hearts, and both Dana and Kim fell backwards. Henry’s eyes opened as wide as a full moon, he was astonish, and now could only imagine what had happened to the other group.
“And now will you tell me what I want to know?” Henry knew once he told he’d die, surely die, and so looked the other way. At that point, the chief, took Kim, put him in a boat, and told the Big Iguana, he was going to take him down river about ten miles, to the dark waters of one of the tributaries, and feed him to the piranha, but first things first he implied to his several men. First we eat
in front of Henry, they took Dana, cut her limps off, and cooked them as cannibals, and ate her. Actually offered Henry some, but he was too sick to say no or yes. What was going on in his mind as he lay in the grass wondering what his destiny was: should Captain Derry and Lora appear, their destiny would be no better than his. He looked about, trying to figure out where the entrance to his underground stream came out. The chief looked at him as he looked traced—his every eye contact.
Honey
It was now forenoon, and the heat of the day was piercing down upon the river and its jungle, and its inhabitants. The chief now had given instructions to Big Iguana, that he’d be back soon, and then they’d go get the other group, but should the group surface before he return, that he should kill this man called Henry, and then wait for his return, whereupon, they’d all go hunting again for the new group.
After the instructions were given, in a moment’s time they were on their way. Then Big Iguana, some seven feet tall, possible 300-pounds, tied the feet of Henry, not asking him any more, any questions, just tying him, and then he had lifted him like a baby onto his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, and headed into the jungle. Then setting him down, as softly as a kitchen, he went over to a tree, tore some bark off it, drained some sap from it, then after filing the better portion of a large leaf with it, he stripped Henry, rubbing the sap all over his body, then he carried him high up into the tree, found a secure branch, and tide his feet a second time around the huge branch, as now he hung upside down.
He then went and got more of the sap, painting the tree from where Henry was to the bottom, by where a huge ant hill was, and guided the ants to the sap and watched them make their way up the long hundred foot tree, sitting back looking up as if he was in his glory. Why man gets their kicks out of the sufferings of another Henry could not figure out, what would it do for his appetite, did it really fill him up to see this. Then he noticed a huge snake, some ten feet long on a higher branch above him, and Big Iguana had missed it.
Henry had an idea, it would possible be his last idea should it not work, but none-the-less, it was as it was.
The Snake
Henry started to sake the branch, he knew he might fall, or even maybe the snake above him might fall, but so be it, his plan was in the makings, and it was all he had (if providence was not on h is side, than no one was). And so he moved his body to and fro, making the branch quiver, as Big Iguana watched what he was up to, and as he moved about, the rope that tied his feet loosened up, and the branch was moving with him now, making his movements almost automatic in rhythm with the branch.
Big Iguana got somewhat nervous, that his prey might fall and break his neck before the third party surfaced, and his chief would not be all that pleased with him, so he started to climb the big tree for the second time, bringing up some more rope to tie his feet even more secure. When he had reached the top, he moved slowly out onto the branch, and trying to hold Henry’s feet still, the branch now feeling a little weak, he stood up, put his hand above his head to secure a better hold onto the tree, and found his hand in the mouth of the big Anaconda, and with a snap, he fell backwards, without a hand, down, down, down, on to the ground; henceforth, the snake then falling from the tree onto the huge being below, and like a rat to a mouse, the Anaconda pulled his dinner into the thick of the flora.
But should he fall from this distance he’d die instantly, but then it was just a matter of time before the ants ate him alive, or the chief would come back and kill him, or think of another way to torment him to death. The third possibility was the Captain would find him. Therefore, it was to his advantage he told himself, to wait a while longer and see where it all would end up.
Captain Derry
Another hour had passed, Henry knew he couldn’t last, and so he tired aimlessly with what little strength he had left to shake the branch, and it broke, and he fell, and he died. The Captain had come out of a cave entrance, or in this case exit, to find the cloths of his friends, Dana and Kim, by the river. Lora hugging the Captain could only imagine what took place. After a moment of grief, they both knew they had to hurry, for it seemed always time was of the essence in this part of the jungle, and therefore they grabbed hold of one of the small dugout vessels tied to a river post, and with an oar [more of a pole, with a flat end] made there escape out and into the river.
--At this time, the chief had just dropped the other body into the piranha infested dark waters of an offshoot of the river, down river about ten miles. They ate the body within minutes, pulling as they do the flesh and devouring it as if it was delicious.
As they had achieved their goal, and were on their way out of the side arm of the river, leading into the massive Amazon now, there in the distance was the fiery craft, the ritual craft, they had set ablaze earlier they noticed: then coming up river a ways, was a small dugout, as the Chief and his six hordes, along with their one big boat pointing in the direction, head on with the dugout, noticed. And likewise, Captain Derry noticed the big craft of Amazonians coming towards him.
Notes on this Story: I had felt when I did the first part of this story, “The Plane to Iquitos,” I would either leave it alone, or do a second part, knowing the second group had yet to find their destination. But I had not been in a sink hole per se, so I couldn’t ever figure out the second part and left it alone, yet had the idea in the back of my head, and had to go back to my journey in the Amazon I took some years back. Thus, in the process of doing this the story came alive to me one morning, and I quote from my notes: “I had woke up this morning, and trying to get out of bed this second part was haunting me, and the ending was coming, or beginning, or for that matter the whole second part, the problem was, now there had to be a third part, for the second did not close the doors to the whole story, it only got him through the thick of the Amazon….” So it seems to me, I need to come up with a third part, if ever I can. Part one was put into the book, “Dracula’s Ghost.” Part one was completed in 2003; part two, was in 2004, previously not published; and part three was completed 2005, still in draft form.
The Plane from Iquitos
Part Three [a month later, l959]
Captain Derry and the Pink Dolphins
Evil Eye
[Interlude] Things can get mysterious, if not down right sinister for lack of a better word, in the chaotic waters of the Amazon, more so than any other river, and I have been on most every river in he world that counts; yes, the mightiest river on earth is the Amazon, and I’ve swam it felt its underwater creatures swimming around my bare legs. It holds seven times the amount of water any other river on the globe does, and is the longest river in one direction; and produces more water flow than any other water source on earth. And has countless tributaries, or arms linking into and out of its body; one could get lost easily; it is as wide as forty miles at some points along its snake like figure. And what you least expect, is what you might get, like pink dolphins, or eaten up by Purina; oh yes, there are two sides to the coin, is there not. If you say it’s not possible, than you have not been on the Amazon, and I have. But here is part three to Captain Derry’s adventure, a lot different than mine.
In part one, Captain Derry was flying a plane from Iquitos, and was shot down by a tribesman, whereupon he and the planes ten passengers formed two groups, each going their own way within the thick of the Amazon. The first group getting slaughtered by the Chief and archenemy of another tribe; the second group, in their run to escape the thick of the jungle to the waters of the Amazon, some almost made it, but at the end, it was only the good Captain that ended up on the boat heading back to Iquitos. And now Captain Derry is heading down the river and the Chief has spotted him, that is, he and his two vessels full of tribal members. One boat being quite large the other rather small; now the chase begins.
Captain Derry saw the two boats chasing him, or at least it seemed that way, and so with every bone and muscle in his body he took the long shaped oar, broke it in half and started to row like a madman; as the king, the chief of the tribe, Old Evil Eyes pursued him. A deep mist: a maddening cloud pounded in his head, quivering his almost dead shape of a body: wherein he gained some distance from the two vessels of the chief’s, but his escape was slow in coming, for the chief was gaining distance rapidly.
This escape went on for several hours; wherever the captain was getting his energy from—was a surprise to the pursuers; perchance he was more reptile and the sun was energizing him—the chief was impressed, so much so, he stopped the boats, and with incantations he called upon the shapes of his dead ancestors to appear; shadows from the dust of time. Hence, they appeared and having done so, the shadows with little form, chased the Captain in his vessel; pounding him, pulling on him, jerking the vessel trying to tip it over. Yet, even though the shapes and shadows surround his dugout like boat, the shadows, and their monstrous boldness in attacking nonstop, as he rowed the craft, tired the evil spirits out. He, (He being: Captain Derry] in consequence, told his nightmare to vanish, but it wouldn’t and thus, they paid no attention, until the morbid spirits, with their sinister movements, tipped over the little vessel: thereupon, they left the scene.
At this point, the Captain was floating in the waters of the Amazon loosely, limp as a dead fish, too weak to turn the boat back right side up; as I have said, the spirits had disappeared, and so did the two boats belonging to the chief, but being so week, he was a good as dead: but if this was the case, as you already know, the story must end, and it is not about to end yet. Hence, he concluded he’d had to accept the inevitable; he’d drawn sooner or later.
After four hours of hanging onto the boats protruding keel he let go and to his surprise two pink dolphins hit his chest as they swam by; not large by any means, yet—not small either. And then they came back, and hit his chest again, and again and again. And that was the only thing he could remember when he woke up: dolphins, pink dolphins returning to hit his chest, but when he awoke, he was on the shores of Iquitos, the Peruvian city along the Amazon. Ah! could fate be so kind, perhaps only in such a story as this you are thinking, but there are pink dolphins in the Amazon, and I swam in the Amazon, as I have previous mentioned, and saw them, felt them. The dolphins evidently had made a kind of barrage, and with balance put him over their backs and being but a few miles from Iquitos, gave him a lift, one might say: since his babbling was constant as he unknowingly met officials of the city in “Iquitos (I was on a plan from IQUITOS!) He was not well though when he was brought into the hospital. Physiologically and psychologically, he was bonkers, as one might say; oddities seemed to surface from his remarks, and body twitches. A mental disturbance was evident.
The Hospital
When Captain Derry was brought into the hospital, several of his friends were notified, for he had been gone more than a month. No one had found his airplane, and the best reasoning was that he was dead. When a few friends had stopped over to see him, Matthew Henry, his closest friend for some twenty-years, and a co-pilot of his in the past, really couldn’t recognize the thirty-seven year old buddy of his. He had aged way beyond his years it seemed. Although his doctor, Dr. Sowell, assured him it was he, and that mental illness ages a person substantially faster; although this was out of the ordinary. So much so, she gave him a complete physical, finding his heart beat was not irregular but weak; his digestive system was not working properly—but working nonetheless, and would not digest food fast enough, and yet she did not provide a pathological reason at this juncture, nor diagnosis, or prognoses. Everything was conjecture.
Unmarried, and with no family living back home in the United States, it was simply his co-pilot, friend Matthew whom would visit him, come the following days of recovery. Yet the good doctor took a special interest into what she called: “This Special Case.”
Said she to the Hospital Staff, and to the Psychologist Thomas Manning, during an inquiry of this case, and in the presence of Matthew, whom at this time was seemingly becoming his guardian to speak of: “For all intent, Mr. Derry should not be alive, his metabolism is retarded, and his stomach area has some deep holes in it; from what the Captain says, in his whimpering dialogue with me, is that pink dolphins carried him to the shores of the city.” All the doctors, several at a square table along with Matthew, looked at Patricia Sowell in a mystic manner. Yet she was renowned for her acute observations. She added: “I do think as time goes by, even at this moment, he has a ting of madness in him, and yet I do suppose some of what he experienced must be reality. Our best bet at this point is to place him in confinement for insanity; there we can try to resolve whatever mystery seeps within his brain”; turning toward Dr. Manning as if to wish for his concurrence.
Matthew not liking this took a turn for the worse, and walked out of the room, while the others agreed verbally with the Doctor.
In the days following no one knew what took place in the jungle, as she tried to talk to him to find out, there were many gaps, and concealments of knowledge, and no hypnosis to stand the test of reality; furthermore, he was too rigid, too anxious to participate in any in-depth conversations. In short, Captain Derry had lost all regards for mankind.
The Hospital
[and conclusion]
Several months had gone by, and Mr. Derry was committed to the psychiatric ward of the hospital. No one quite knew what to make of him, to assist on his behalf, or what had happened to him in the jungle (one must remember this was 1959, and in the Peruvian jungles): did he get a fever some asked, or use an excessive amount of hashish, thus describing many things that could have produced delirium, his now cosmic projections, dreams that haunted him: he could not longer enjoy life without the dead being part of his thoughts; he now belonged to an alien world, an entity of a lost world of his. As time went on, delirium tremens and terrestrial images continued, they came close to killing him so much so they caused him intensification in his mannerisms; distortions in his thinking; visual frightening images for his system to digest; thus, coming close to having a heart attack several times. How would he live, seeped through his mind; his thinking now being all messed up.
Dennis Siluk, author and poet's books can be seen on the internet, at most book dealers. He has experienced the Amazon, in its waters, and jungels. I get the feeling there could be a part four coming.
posted by Dennis and Rosa Siluk at 8:45 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home