The Whispering Land

Eventually we reached Oran at two o'clock in the afternoon, having had to navigate three more water hazards, none of which, fortunately, was as bad as the first two. Nevertheless, we arrived at Luna's house all looking as though we had spent our entire day in the river, which was not so far from the truth. Luna's charming family greeted us with delight, whipped our clothes away to be dried, cooked us an enormous meal, and sat us down to eat it in an indoor courtyard, overflowing with flowers, where the frail sunlight was just starting to make its heat felt. While we ate and drank good, warming red wine, Luna sent an apparently endless stream of his smaller relatives on mysterious missions to different parts of the town, and they kept reappearing to whisper reports to him, whereupon he would nod his head portentously and smile, or else scowl ferociously, according to the news that was being vouchsafed to him. Everyone had an air of suppressed excitement, and stiffened expectantly if Luna so much as coughed or looked in their direction. I began to feel as though I was having lunch with the Duke of Wellington on the eve of Waterloo.* At last he leant forward, poured us both out a last glass of wine, and then grinned at me, his big black eyes sparkling with suppressed excitement.

"Gerry," he said in Spanish, "I have found you some bichos."

"Already?" I asked. "But how?"

He waved a hand at his small army of relatives, standing in a grinning line.

"I have sent my family to make inquiries, and they have discovered a number of people who have bichos. Now it only remains for us to go and buy them if they are the bichos you want."

"Wonderful," I said enthusiastically, finishing my wine at a gulp, "let's go, shall we?"

So, in ten minutes' time, Luna and I set off to quarter* Oran like huntsmen, preceded by our pack of Luna's young and excited relatives. The town was not really so large, but rather straggling, built on the typical Argentine chessboard pattern. Everywhere we went, as Charles had predicted, Luna was greeted with cries of joy, and we had to refuse many invitations of the more bibulous* variety. But Luna, with a reluctant gleam in his eye, sternly turned his back on such frivolity, and we continued on our way. Eventually, one of the younger members of our retinue ran ahead and beat a loud tattoo on a most impressive-looking door of a large house. By the time we had reached it the door had been opened by an ancient woman dressed in black, which made her look like a somewhat dilapidated cockroach. Luna paused in front of her and gave her a grave good evening, to which she bowed slightly.

"I know that you have in your house a parrot," said Luna with the air of a policeman daring a criminal to deny the existence of a corpse, which he knows to be concealed beneath the sofa.

"That is so," said the woman, mildly surprised, "This English señor is collecting for his jardin zoologico* in England," Luna went on, "and it is possible that he may wish to purchase this bird of yours."

The woman surveyed me from dark, dry eyes, without curiosity.

"You are welcome to him," she said at last, "for he is a dirty bird and he does not talk. My son brought him to me, but if I can sell him I will be only too glad. Come in, señores, and see him."

She shuffled ahead of us and led us into the inevitable courtyard of potted plants, forming the well of the house.* When I saw the bird it was all I could do to stifle a yelp of delight, for the creature was a yellow-naped macaw,* a rare member of the parrot family. It was sitting on the remains of a wooden perch, which it had obviously, over the past week, demolished slowly and systematically until scarcely anything remained. It glanced up at us as we gathered round it, a fine sliver of wood in its beak, uttered a short gurking noise, and returned to its work of demolition. Luna gave me a quick glance from his brilliant eyes, and I nodded my head vigorously. He took a deep breath, surveyed the macaw with loathing, and then turned to the woman.

"One of the commoner ones, I see," he said carelessly, "but even so the señor is interested in buying it. You realize, of course, that for such a common, destructive bird, and one, moreover, that does not talk, we cannot afford to be generous. The señor would not dream of considering paying anything more than, say, twenty-five pesos for such a creature."

Then he folded his arms and looked at the woman, waiting for her outburst of indignation at the mere mention of such a low price.

"All right," said the woman, "you can have him."

While Luna regarded her open-mouthed she picked up the macaw, plonked him unceremoniously on my shoulder, and held out her wrinkled palm for the notes which I was hastily counting out from my wallet before she changed her mind. We were back in the street again, with the macaw making surprised and pleased gurking noises in my ear, before Luna recovered the power of speech. Then he shook his head despondently.