The Secret of Suriname: Chapter VI

Ben Hansen

"Be more gentle, damn you," Hugh muttered as the faux-natives heaved him off his pallet. "These bedsores aren't going to alleviate themselves!"
"We are sorry," muttered the small man who had somehow drifted into the role of pseudotribal spokesperson. "Perhaps if we could be sure of some remuneration for all this in the near future, we would be able to work on your continuing comfort with a little more delicacy."
This had been a recurring theme in the man's conversation for the last three weeks, since he'd originally admitted to speaking English. Clearly, the ersatz natives were growing restless.
"Well, you see," Hugh began, "My wallet is in my pants, and thanks to all the bounty of nature and things I haven't seen -"
"Your pants have been kept aside just here for when you are ready to return to civilisation," the frustrating little creature replied, vanishing from under Hugh's newly spherical form and returning with them. "Now that you have been reunited, would you - oh, bugger."
With the departure of the little man's strength from under Hugh's weight, the others had been unable to maintain their hold on him and had collapsed beneath him like matchsticks beneath a rockmelon. Hugh rolled downhill, unable to do anything to slow himself, and tumbled on towards the bay. He closed his eyes in preparation for the inevitable impact.
The impact was... not what he'd expected. There was a moment's moistness followed by a sudden, violent rocking motion completely unaccompanied by the "splash" he normally come to predict from this kind of situation.
Even stranger, as the rocking began to abate, he heard a voice unheard for an age saying "Hello, Hugh".
Hugh timidly opened his eyes to reveal that, rather than having ended up in the river, he'd landed perfectly in a metallic-looking raft that was now floating serenely away from shore. With only one other person for company.
"Hey, Ben," Hugh sighed. "What's this?"
"This," Ben said, flourishing dramatically, "is our escape route."
"It's a raft you made out of... aluminium cans?"
"Aluminium cans, old fruit bags, contraceptive packets... You'd be amazed how much trash these people generate, making things look natural."
"And we're on this raft because..."
"Otherwise you'd have to pay for the holiday. Oh, and there's the whole Muskens dealie."
"Good points," Hugh admitted, sadly releasing his intentions to swim back to shore. "How did you know to put the raft there?"
"Well, you've rolled into the lake like this every day for the last week. All I had to do was follow the rut, really. You've really let yourself go."
"Technically, they've let myself go."
"We'd better hurry, anyway, or they may not let yourself go."
True to Ben's word, the phony tribe had assembled on the shore and were shaking fists angrily at the duo as they slowly floated away. A few minutes later, more arrived, with weapons.
"It's kind of interesting that even after a dine and dash they stick with the primitive tribe motif," Hugh observed. "Do they think they'll catch us with a handful of spears?"
"Was that a gunshot?"
"Faster! Faster!"