Journey to the River Sea

‘I’m afraid that’s impossible,’ he said. ‘The original skeleton came from a cave near the Xanti river, miles away to the north. And I’m too old for expeditions.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Miss Minton. ‘Anyone who can walk can go on expeditions.’

Then she took her leave and Maia said ‘Good morning’ to the stuffed Pekinese before she settled down at a table near the ‘Birds in Flight’ exhibit, and began to draw. It was good to be in the museum again, and away from the Carters. Not just the Pekinese, but the Amazonian river slug, the lumpy manatee, the shrunken head, all seemed like old friends – and of course the Taverner Collection which she now saw with new eyes. And as she drew, Maia tried to puzzle out the problem of her governess.

Maia had told Miss Minton that Clovis was safe with the Indian boy. Miss Minton had nodded, but she asked no more questions. It was strange how little she asked Maia about her comings and goings, when she pounced on every strand of unbrushed hair or a fingernail not scrubbed to cleanliness. Then when Maia said she needed to go and work in the museum to finish her project on ‘Birds of the Rainforest’, Minty had done no more than raise an eyebrow and had gone about arranging it. She had even persuaded Mrs Carter to let them go down on the rubber boat so as to give them more time in Manaus.

And why did Finn want to know Miss Minton’s Christian name?

But she wasn’t in the museum to think about Minty, or even to draw birds. She was here to do a job for Finn, and when she was sure the museum was empty she walked over to the door marked ‘Private’ and knocked.

Professor Glastonberry came out at once. He really was a very nice man with his round, pink face and white fringe of hair.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you again,’ said Maia, ‘but I have a message for you.’ And she handed him the note that Finn had written in the hut.

The professor read it and looked at her intently. So she had found Finn and made friends with him. Not only that, but she wanted to help him.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I see. You are a messenger and to be trusted. Come in.’

He led her into his office and locked the door. Maia had never seen such a room. There wasn’t a centimetre that wasn’t covered in something: limb casts, snake skins, jumbled bones... and books everywhere, even on the floor. But it was a friendly clutter, not like the mess in Mr Carter’s room.

‘Sit down,’ he said, and moved a stuffed marmoset from a rickety chair. Then he read the note again. ‘I don’t see why not. If it’s just for one night. No, I really don’t see why not.’

‘He said you knew a good hiding place. He said you showed it to him.’

Professor Glastonberry smiled. He must have been close on sixty, but he looked like a pleased pink baby.

‘Ah, he remembered, did he? Well, come along. If Finn says you’re to be trusted, I’m sure he’s right.’

He took her into the lab and, for the second time, Maia was led to the giant sloth. But this time the Professor put his shoulder to the heavy metal stand which moved slowly to one side. On the wooden floor, grimed with dirt, Maia could just make out a square of darker-coloured wood and an iron ring.

‘It’s a trapdoor,’ he said. ‘Goes down to a cellar and storeroom – but it’s well ventilated. Got one high window. Best hiding place in Manaus, we used to say. Finn liked to play down there when he was little, while his father helped me.’

Maia stood looking at the flight of steps which led into the darkness.

‘Would you like to go down?’ the professor asked.

‘May I?’

‘Of course. But you’d better have a light; there’s no electricity down there.’

He brought her a hurricane lamp and she climbed down. The cellar was huge and vaulted, with a recess at the back full of packing cases. Between the cases were exhibits which the professor had not had room for, or those waiting to be repaired. A beam of light fell on the red eyes of a moth-eaten puma. There were unstrung bows and painted shields, and a harpy eagle sitting on a lopsided nest. In a corner was a heap of round objects which might have been carved coconuts, but might have been shrunken heads. But the floor was dry, and in the far end of the room, the high window gave a glimmer of light.

‘It’s marvellous,’ said Maia, coming up again. ‘No one could find you unless they knew.’

The professor moved the stand back over the trapdoor. ‘I sometimes store Billy down there when the trustees come on an inspection. They don’t approve of stuffed Pekinese in a serious museum.’

‘There’s just one more thing,’ said Maia, as the professor led her out of the lab. ‘Finn thought that we should – that I should – steal the spare keys, so that no one gets into trouble. Your staff or you if anything goes wrong.’

‘I doubt if anyone could do much to me,’ said Professor Glastonberry, ‘but it’s true I wouldn’t want my cleaners or my caretaker blamed.’

‘The trouble is,’ said Maia, looking up at him, ‘I haven’t actually stolen anything before.’