Mistaken Journey

New Zealand Listener, Volume 12, Issue 309, 25 May 1945, Page 23

Mistaken Journey

BOY

SHEFFIELD

XXI. T was a long wait this time, and I began to wonder what was happening. I wondered, too, what would be likely to happen if they searched me. That would certainly complicate matters, for in a pocket was my .25 automatic and a box of shells. For an unauthorised person to carry a weapon is, of course, a serious offence, but I had reasoned that in the event of an examination by customs. officials, or others, my kit would be more likely to receive attention than my own person. As it was, however, the revolver was a decided embarrassment, and I determined to rid myself of it should the opportunity occur; although, with the two soldiers in the room, that seemed a remote possibility. The wooden seat grew harder and harder, and the other end of me became as uncomfortable as the thoughts in my head. I walked across to the open window and the big butcher, still chopping his meat, gave me a broad smile. ‘ He probably thought it was a nice day, so I smiled back and made a motion of bending my arm and feeling the muscle. I was trying to convey a humorous idea of how strong he was, but the smile vanished from his face, and the other soldiers in the courtyard burst out laughing.- I subsequently discovered before leaving South America that this particular gesture carries an entirely different interpretation in that country; it is, in fact, a more provoking form of the insult implied by a Britisher when he elevates two fingers in silent scorn. I was not to know that, however, and since the butcher had appeared to miss the point of my joke I repeated the action two or three times. His only answer was to wave his chopper at me in a threatening manner, which made the soldiers laugh all the louder, and caused my own guards to join in the mirth. In the middle of this by-play, the door opened and the two soldiers came in who had escorted Mr. Walker. They stayed only to collect his suitcases, and I heard footsteps echo across the courtyard, and the iron door slam. But whether it had shut on our hopes of release, or whether my companion had passed through it a free man, I could not tell. My custodians were dismissed shortly afterwards, and two strangers took their places. The quietness of the midday lunch hour descended on the courtyard, and I hoped that their new guest would not be left unattended. But he was, and his stomach registered a protest against this continued neglect. I asked for a drink of. water-one of the stock phrases I had learned to say-and the soldiers brought me some in an enamel mug. My new guardians appeared to be of an obliging disposition, and I determined to make an immediate attempt to dispossess myself of my revolver and the box of ammunition. Across the courtyard was a wash house with, I guessed,

the usual domestic offices, and one excellent hiding place instantly suggested itself. I intimated my desire to take a walk -the text-book phrase for meeting that emergency read, "Where, please, can I hang my hat and coat,’ an idiom I shrank from using on the uneducated soldier-and they willingly acquiesced. Too willingly, in fact, for my request had apparently come at an opportune moment, and all three of us crossed the courtyard together. Even so, I still had a chance, for half a minute’s privacy would be sufficient to do the trick, and surely, I thought they would grant me that. But those Paraguayan soldiers had a devotion to duty which overruled their sense of decency, and despite the embarrassing circumstances, they did not lose sight of me for a single second. So my plan failed, and more than ever I was aware of the incriminating bulge in my hip pocket. * * * For a long time after this nothing happened at all, and there was no movement in the courtyard. Then, the hour of siesta being over, the butcher and several others appeared once more, and proceeded with their respective tasks. Again there was a long wait, and I forgot all about my missed breakfast; I was too busy thinking about the lunch I had not had, and weighing up the prospects of getting some tea. At last the door opened, and an official came for me. He led me along a passage and back into the main building to where a man was sitting at a table in a large office. The latter pulled up another chair, and invited me to be seated. On the table were pens and ink, and a very official-looking form on which was printed a long list of questions. He handed me a pen, and indicated that I was to fill in the answers, a proceeding which, since I could not understand the questions, was going to prove somewhat difficult. However, I was anxious to oblige, and we started off. The first question was easy, and I wrote my full name nicely and neatly. The second was a trifle more compli-. cated, and the man was not very helpful in his attempted explanations. Then it came to me, and I appended my father’s name. The next two or three queries looked far too formidable, so I skipped those and concentrated on one where a single word said, "Stat." A reasonable translation of "stat" was "state," and I began to think of a suitable reply. But the longer I lingered, the greater became the possibilities that simple enquiry invoked. I was in many states, principally in a state of hunger. But this, I reflected, was hardly a condition that the Paraguayans wished to place on record. Beyond that, I could have told them I was in a state of good health, nearly broke, still fairly cheerful, and needed a haircut; but none of these seemed matters of primary import‘ance to my captors, and I compromised by writifig "single." E (continued on next page)

(continued from previous page) The other questions conveyed nothing to me at all, although since I thought they would want to know where I lived and what my occupation was, I filled in these particulars in the likeliest-looking columns, and hoped for the best. The man had a whole lot to say about the blank spaces I had left on the form, but he might have saved his breath for all the good it did, and finally shrugging his shoulders, he gave it up as a bad job. After that it was his turn to copy down a few particulars, and he began by taking my finger-prints. I dabbed my fingers on to an inky pad, and impressed them, one after another, on the bottom of the form. He inscribed various distinguishing points about my physiognomy, and even measured my ears with 4 pair of callipers, a novel though probably quite helpful means of identification. Following this he called to an orderly and presently a’ prisoner came in who could speak English. His mission was to help me with the unanswered questions, but since nobody could understand us we did not keep strictly to business. He told me that he was.a Canadian, though he had lived for many years in South "America. He, too, had fallen foul of the authorities and had been arrested on suspicion of being a Bolivian agent. That was three weeks ago, he said, and although the British Consul knew about him, all effofts to obtain his release had proved unavailing. I did not like the sound of that piece of news in the least, and for the first time felt a sudden qualm of apprehension. \@ * * He was from the British Legation, and with a few pertinent enquiries elicited all the information I had to’ give concerning the incidents on the voyage from Corumba, and the reason for my presence in Paraguay. He interpreted my replies to the Paraguayan, who apparently found them satisfactory, for my passport was handed to me, and the young man said I was at liberty to go. There was a brief exchange of remarks between the other two, and they took formal leave of each other. Outside, we waited only until a minor. official had endorsed my passport, and my bags had appeared, before we climbed into a taxi and were being driven to the British Consul. He expressed his pleasure and his sur‘prise at my speedy release, and smilingly observed that I had been at pains ‘to make things look very black against myself. I apologised. for the trouble I had caused him, and thanked him for his timely services; also, at his request, . I gave him a signed statement describing the whole affair. The young man then conducted me to a hotel near by where Mr. Walker had arranged to stay the night, for, luckily, the connecting boat to Buenos Aires was scheduled to leave at noon on the morrow. Mr. Walker was keeping his delayed appointment in the town when we arrived, and the young man arranged to return later in the evening, and to join us at dinner. That hotel seemed positively luxurious, and I discovered what it.felt like to wallow in a hot bath again after an interval of nearly three months. The bed. in my room, too, was big and soft, with snowy sheets, and did not look as if an unconsidered movement would cause its collapse like another one I remembered. I was prepared to yield to its charms just as soon as I hafl done justice to the best dinner the hotel

could provide, and hoped that Mr. Walker would not suggest anything more energetic, or more ambitious for the evening’s entertainment. * * * M®. WALKER aarrived back from his appointment, and we were unfeignedly glad to see each other again. Except for his gallantry in following me from the boat early in the morning I certainly should not have been there then, for nobody was expecting me, nobody would have missed me, and the Consul would have known nothing about me. It was not an entertaining prospect, and during dinner our friend from the British Legation further emphasised my exceedingly lucky escape. It was a very enjoyable meal, and my hunger was appeased at last. Our guest did not stay long afterwards, and Mr. Walker proposed an early night, a proposition I seconded with acclamation. Early to bed, early to rise-and/’ we were up betimes in the morning. The boat was due to leave at noon, and we both had to visit the shipping office before then to purchase our tickets. Moreover, it was necessary to attend at the Argentine-Consulate to have my passport vised, and-I wanted to call for my letters at the Post Office, a programme likely to entail a full morning’s work, at the speed at which South American officialdom operates. Mr. Walker’s help was again invaluable. We bought our tickets within a minimum of delay, and proceeded to the Argentine Consulate. For some reason, they were loath to vise my passport except at a fee of approximately fifteen shillings, although this, my companion insisted, was an extortion, since a traveller was entitled to this service free of charge. The oily little man who attended to us was at first excessively polite, obsequious even, in his ministration, but when he found I was a mere hoodlum of the steerage, his manner underwent a. marked change. I wondered if the odour of my tiger-skin still clung to me, for he turned his nose up in an offensive manner, and sniffed his dis-gust.-When Mr. Walker stubbornly refused to pay the fifteen shillings, his indignation at our churlish behaviour was unbounded. Flinging his pen on the desk he stalked away im‘high disdain, and it was left to a subordinate to smack my. passport. with a rubber peainp marked Crate +48 bi a E drove ta, our hotel in a taxi, and collecting our bags, we arrived at the quay. with only a few minutes to spare. Asuncion, however, had one final thrill to give us before we left, for at the gangway to the boat a squad of sol- . diers was formed up, and the officer % in charge was the one whom we had . seen early the previous morning, the . owner of the French doll. For one. nasty moment I thought he was there for our benefit, and I heard a_ word escape Mr. Walker’s lips that r flected no credit on his profession. t the officer’s presence must have been to speed the parting guests, not to delay them, for he did not interfere with us and we went aboard: without molesta- — tion. The boat was a magnificent vessel, considerably larger than the one oper- — ating on the Corumba-Asuncion service, but built on the same attractive lines, and gleaming just as brightly in a dazzle of white paint. Her motors, too, were * (continued on next page) we

(continued from previous page) more powerful and her speed greater, although since the river was wider here than in Brazilian waters, we did not get the same vivid impression of fleeting swiftness. To my delight, among the people on board was Julian Torromé, but as soon as he saw me he turned away and en‘tered into conversation with a group of other passengers. I wondered what had happened to offend him, and did not intrude my apparently unwelcome company. The third-class quarters were practically the same as they had been on the other vessel, and promised to be no less comfortable. I threw my bags on a bunk, and was wondering what had upset Julian Torromé when in he walked. He clapped me on the shoulder and exclaimed, "You do not know why I do not speak, eh? Well, my friend I tell you." He did tell me, and I began to realise what manner of man it was I had as a travelling companion. He had seen me taken away in the rowing boat the previous morning, and had heard the common news that a Bolivian spy had been captured. There had been no lack of tales told about my supposed misdeeds, either, and some of the passengers had offered prayers of. thankfulness that such a desperate character had not blown up the ship beneath them, He, however, had not believed that I was in reality a spy, and had been on the lookout for me during the day. My peregrinations had escaped his notice, unfortunately, although he enjoyed an account of them later, and he had rightly concluded that I was being detained in custody. Then, that morning, before he embarked he had gone to the British Legation and informed them that a man had been arrested who professed to be an Englishman, but whose name he did not know and to whom he had only spoken for a few minutes. They had told him, of course, that I had been freed, and that he would meet me on the boat in a few hours.

It was a splendid thing for him to have done, but even then I did not appreciate the real merit of the action, for it was not until afterwards that I learnt his history and knew that he, of all men, had an urgent need of avoiding any complications whatever, and of steering clear of any signs of trouble. "But we must take the care, eh?" he said, "for on this boat the people have long ears, and the long tongue. That is why I do not speak on the deck when everybody in Asuncion looks at us, you understand?" I understood. I understood many things, mainly that a kindly Fate seemed disposed to cast in my path strange people who were very bulwarks of friendship. There had been the Scotsman at Santos; there were the Missionaries at Corumba; Walter Hill and McLeod at Descalvados; Mr. Walker during the past few days; and now there was Julian Torromé. He * * UR big boat tore downstream at a fine speed, and the wash of her ran in two high waves along the river banks} making the small craft we passed bob wildly up and down. During the day my friendship with Julian Torromé ripened fast, and every hour he gave me an added respect for him. When our table steward slapped a chunk of meat on to his plate with more vigour than grace, and most of the contents were. spilled on the table, he merely smiled.‘ "To-day," he said, "this man is our master, we are down here"’-he indicated the floor-‘"but to-morrow, we are up there," he raised his hand, "and then we laugh, eh? We laugh at what we do to-day." It was sound philosophy,’ and something he had been practising for the last eight months. Although he did not favour me with his full confidence until he had more reason to honour my trust, I gradually learnt his fascinating story. Julian Torromé (as I have said, that is not his real name) was a doctor, with

a practice in Sau Paulo. Like many of his countymen, he found politics an exciting hobby and his allegiance to his party had already earned him a visit to England in an official capacity on the occasion of the Wembley Exhibition. He had also spent several months in Germany, and for ‘the past few years his hobby had been aviation. He was a fully qualified civil pilot, and, probably with the knowledge of trouble to come, he had been encouraged by his political friends to devote himself more to aeronautical work than to his practice. Trouble had come, and in a big way, for the Sau Paulo Revolution in 1932 was no mere party disturbance. It was, in effect, the revolt of Sau Paulo State @gainst Brazilian jurisdiction, and, as has already been mentioned, had the Paulistas received the promised support from procrastinating neighbours, the sweets of victory might have been the establishment of Sau Paulo as an independent country. Into the fight they poured all the resources at their command, and men like Julian Torromé did not hold aloof. He was given.the rank of major in the State: Air Force, a commission for which his special knowledge had already prepared him, and he merited particular commendation for his daring services ‘during the months of* fighting. But the odds had been against the Paulistas, and when finally they had to admit defeat, he was a wanted man. For weeks afterwards he lived hidden in a single room in Sau Paulo, and his capture would have meant imprisonment, perhaps exile to the dreaded island of Fernando Noronha, or even death. Eventually he had been enabled to escape to Paraguay, to a farm where over fifty of his compatriots were lodged, waiting until the time was auspicious for their’ return. For eight months he had lived at the farm, having no news of his wife or children, and knowing that she had been an expectant mother at the time of his flight. "To-day... . is our master; but tomorrow we laugh at what we do ‘today." Fer all his philosophy, they must have been dreary months.

Then money had come, for he,. like all his companions in hiding, was penniless, and it had been arranged for him to go to Buenos Aires, and to establish contacts in that city which would enable him to effect a return to Sau Paulo. But this, he said, might not be too easy, for owing to political discord, a state of martial law existed in Argentine at that particular time, and a mutual arrangement for the exchange of wanted persons existed between that country and Brazil: Thus, he would be in little less danger in Buenos Aires than if we were in Sau Paulo itself, for because of this arrangement, should the authorities become aware of his presence, he would be apprehended and deported back to his own country immediately. Moreover, there were many ways in which the Argentine authorities could discover that fact, he declared, so it behoved him to step warily. Yet,. in spite of this, he had interested himself in my affairs, and had gone to the British Consul on an errand of mercy, just in case some ragged fool of a foreigner whom he had met in the steerage had landed himself into trouble. * * * [N the lazy hours on the boat going home my thoughts sometimes went back over the past few months, and I pondered very humbly on the luck of it all. There had been my meeting with the Scot in Santos, that million to one chance which made everything possible, I thought of Corumba; of Descalvados, and Walter Hill... .. Particularly of Walter Hill. . . Of Paraguay. Mr, Walker. Julian Torromé. Of the ge erous and unquestioning which had been showered on me at eve turn, Fun? Yes, it had been great f And something a little deeper too; haps even a glimmer of Understanding (The End)