I had only just pulled Juanita round in time, for no sooner was she better than we got a message to say that the ship was ready to leave. I would have hated to have undertaken a voyage with Juanita as sick as she had been, for I am sure she would have died.
So, on the appointed day, our two lorry-loads of equipment and animal-cages rolled down to the dock, followed by the Land-Rover, and then began the prolonged and exhausting business of hoisting the animals on board, and arranging the cages in their places on the hatch. This is always a nerve-racking time, for as the great nets, piled high with cages, soar into the air, you are always convinced that a rope is going to break and deposit your precious animals either into the sea or else in a mangled heap on the dockside. But, by evening, the last cage was safely aboard, and the last piece of equipment stowed away in the hold, and we could relax.
All our friends were there to see us off, and, if in one or two people’s eyes was a semi-repressed expression of relief, who was to blame them, for I had made martyrs of them all in one way or another. However, we were all exhausted but relaxed, ploughing our way through a series of bottles I had had the foresight to order in my cabin. Everything was on board, everything was safe, and now all we had to do was to have a farewell drink, for in an hour the ship was sailing. Just as I was replenishing everyone’s glass for the fifth toast, a little man in Customs uniform appeared in the cabin doorway, rustling a sheaf of papers. I gazed at him fondly, without any premonition of danger.
‘Señor Durrell?’ he asked politely.
‘Señor Garcia?’ I inquired.
‘Si,’ he said, flushing with pleasure that I should know his name, ‘I am Señor Garcia of the Aduana.’
It was Marie who scented danger.
‘Is anything wrong?’ she asked.
‘Si, si, señorita, the señor’s papers are all in order, but they have not been signed by a despachante.’
‘What on earth’s a despachante?’ I asked.
‘It is a sort of man,’ said Marie worriedly, and turned back to the little Customs man. ‘But is this essential, señor?’
‘Si, señorita,’ he said gravely, ‘without the despachante’s signature we cannot let the animals be taken. They will have to be unloaded.’
I felt as though someone had removed my entire stomach in one piece, for we had about three-quarters of an hour.
‘But is there no despachante here who will sign it?’ asked Marie.
‘Señorita, it is late, they have all gone home,’ said Señor Garcia.
This is, of course, the sort of situation which takes about twenty years off your life. I could imagine the shipping company’s reaction if we now went to them and told them that, instead of gaily casting off for England in an hour’s time, they would be delayed five hours or so while they unloaded all my animals from the hatch, and, what was worse, all my equipment and the Land-Rover which were deep in the bowels of the ship. But by now my friends, unfortunate creatures, were used to crises like this, and they immediately burst into activity. Mercedes, Josefina, Rafael and David went to argue with the Chief of Customs on duty, while Willie Anderson, another friend of ours, went off with Marie to the private home of a despachante he knew. This was on the outskirts of Buenos Aires, so they would have to drive like the devil to get back in time. The happy farewell party burst like a bomb and our friends all fled in different directions. Sophie and I could only wait and hope, while I mentally rehearsed how I would phrase the news to the Captain, without being seriously maimed, if we had to unload everything.
Presently the party who had been arguing with the Chief of Customs returned despondently.
‘No use,’ said David, ‘he’s adamant. No signature, no departure.’
‘He is very much what you call a stupid buggler,’ said Josefina, and then, struck by a thought, ‘Gerry, tell me what does this word buggler mean? I look up in dictionary and all I find is a man who plays a buggle. This is not insulting, no?’
But I was in no condition to help Josefina out with her English translations. We had twenty minutes to go. At that moment we heard a car screech to a halt on the docks outside. We piled out on to the deck, and there, coming up the gangway, smiling triumphantly, were Marie and Willie, waving the necessary documents, all beautifully signed by what must be the finest, noblest despachante in the business. So, with ten minutes to go we all had a drink. I even gave Señor Garcia one.
Then the steward poked his head in to say that we would be casting off in a moment, and we trooped on to the deck. We said our goodbyes, and our tribe of friends made their way down on to the quay. Ropes were cast off, and slowly the gap between the ship and the dock widened, so that we could see the shuddering reflection of the quay lights in the dark waters. Presently the ship gained speed, and soon our friends were lost to sight, and all we could see was the great heap of multicoloured lights that was Buenos Aires.
As we turned away from the rail and made our way to our cabins, I remembered Darwin’s words, written a century before. When speaking of the travelling naturalist he said: ‘he will discover how many truly kind-hearted people there are with whom he had never before had, or ever again will have, any further communication, who yet are ready to offer him the most disinterested assistance.’
Stop Press
For those that are interested here is an up-to-date account of the creatures we brought back. Claudius the tapir, whom I could once lift up in my arms – at the risk of a rupture – is now the size of a pony, and eagerly awaiting a bride when we can afford one.
Mathias and Martha, the coatimundis, have settled down to domestic bliss and have produced two sets of children. Martha, at the time of writing, is again in an interesting condition.
Juan and Juanita, the peccaries, also had two sets of babies, and are expecting a third.
Luna, the puma, the ocelot and the Geoffroy’s cat are all flourishing, getting fatter with each passing day.
Blanco, the Tucuman Amazon, still says ‘Hijo de puta’, but very softly now.
All the other birds, beasts and reptiles are equally well, and many showing signs of wanting to breed.
Which leaves me with only one thing to say and thus, I hope, stop people writing to ask me: my zoo is a private one, but it is open to the public every day of the year except Christmas Day.
So come and see us.
Acknowledgements
As always after an expedition there are those people to whom one’s gratitude is so immense that there is no way of adequately thanking them. All I can do is reiterate once more how much I appreciated their help and encouragement.
BUENOS AIRES
The entire de Sota family; the entire Rodrigues family; our dear friend Bebita Ferreyra; Lassie Greenslet; David Jones; Josefina Pueyrredon; Dicky de Sola; Brian Dean; Bill Partridge; and Willie Anderson.
All these people assisted us in countless ways, giving advice and helping us clear our equipment through the Customs; entertaining us lavishly and acting as drivers, translators, guides, carpenters and cooks, on our behalf.
People whose patience we tried, and whose houses and places of work we infested with our animals are: Blondie Maitland-Harriot; Mrs Dorothy Krotow; Dr Mario Teruggi. To them all we – and our animals – are most grateful.
To Dr Carlos Godoy, my special thanks, as he was so efficient and helpful over our collecting permits and in furnishing us with letters of introduction to many throughout the Argentine.
Dr Caberra was extremely helpful in giving us information regarding the Argentine fauna.
Mr Salmon of Bovril, Ltd was most kind and helpful. Mr Blackburn of Chadwick Weir arranged for the transportation of the entire collection and equipment from the Argentine, a massive undertaking.
PUERTO DESEADO
To Señor Huichi for his help we simply cannot express our gratitude enough. Captain Giri was instrumental in introducing us to Señor Huichi and for helping us find the penguin colonies. For both of these things we were most grateful. Mr Bateman, the Br
itish Vice-Consul, and his wife assisted us in every way possible, as did Mr and Mrs Roberts, the local Postmaster and his wife. All these people did their utmost to make our stay in Deseado a pleasant one.
PUERTO MADRYN
The manager of the Hotel Playa not only provided us with accommodation but lent us money, sent telegrams for us and helped us in every other way he could.
JUJUY
Charles and Joan Lett; Edna and Helmuth Vorbach; Luna, a very good friend, and everyone at Calilegua accepted me into their midst and did everything to help me build up my collection of animals, make my film and arrange everything for my comfort and salvation. Without them all I would have been lost.
MENDOZA
Dr Menoprio, who was so kind to us in many ways.
BRITAIN
Mr Peter Newborne of C.A.P., who was his usual helpful self and did all he could to assist us in the complicated matters of Customs facilities, etc. Dr Don Alberto Candiotti the former Argentine Ambassador in London, who gave the whole expedition his official blessing and encouraged us in every way. Mr Lawton Johnson of Bovril arranged for us to visit the various Bovril estates in the Argentine, which, unfortunately, we were unable to do; Mr Flack and Mr Aggett, of Blue Star Line, arranged passages for us all. The South American Saint Line kindly agreed to transport my entire collection and all my equipment from Buenos Aires to England, and in this connection I would like to thank the Captain and crew of the M.V. St John for enabling the return voyage to go smoothly, which was due entirely to their help and kindness.
The following British manufacturers supplied us with various equipment, without which the expedition would have been a complete failure. The Rover Company supplied us with our Land-Rover, in which we were able to travel all over the Argentine, and Mr Baldwin and Mr Bradley of the Company’s Sales and Publicity Dept were extremely kind and helpful in enabling us to have this vehicle.
The Directors of William Smith (Poplar) Ltd, The British Nylon Spinners Ltd, and Greengate & Irwell Rubber Co. Ltd continue to earn our deep gratitude for the wonderful tarpaulins and animal shelters that they gave us on a previous trip. These articles, which are in constant use, have proved absolutely invaluable.
Finally, may we thank all those both here and in the Argentine who have helped us in many small ways, but without whose help the expedition could not have been successful.
He just wanted a decent book to read ...
Not too much to ask, is it? It was in 1935 when Allen Lane, Managing Director of Bodley Head Publishers, stood on a platform at Exeter railway station looking for something good to read on his journey back to London. His choice was limited to popular magazines and poor-quality paperbacks – the same choice faced every day by the vast majority of readers, few of whom could afford hardbacks. Lane’s disappointment and subsequent anger at the range of books generally available led him to found a company – and change the world.
We believed in the existence in this country of a vast reading public for intelligent books at a low price, and staked everything on it’
Sir Allen Lane, 1902–1970, founder of Penguin Books
The quality paperback had arrived – and not just in bookshops. Lane was adamant that his Penguins should appear in chain stores and tobacconists, and should cost no more than a packet of cigarettes.
Reading habits (and cigarette prices) have changed since 1935, but Penguin still believes in publishing the best books for everybody to enjoy. We still believe that good design costs no more than bad design, and we still believe that quality books published passionately and responsibly make the world a better place.
So wherever you see the little bird – whether it’s on a piece of prize-winning literary fiction or a celebrity autobiography, political tour de force or historical masterpiece, a serial-killer thriller, reference book, world classic or a piece of pure escapism – you can bet that it represents the very best that the genre has to offer.
Whatever you like to read – trust Penguin.
www.penguin.co.uk
Join the conversation:
Twitter Facebook
PENGUIN BOOKS
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)
Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi – 110 017, India
Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, Block D, Rosebank Office Park, 181 Jan Smuts Avenue, Parktown North, Gauteng 2193, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
www.penguin.com
First published in Great Britain by Rupert Hart-Davis 1961
First published in the United States of America by The Viking Press 1962
Published in Penguin Books 1964
Reissued in this edition 2012
Copyright © Gerald Durrell, 1961
Cover illustration © Brian Cairns.
All rights reserved
Typeset by Palimpsest Book Production Limited, Falkirk, Stirlingshire
ISBN: 978-0-141-97131-5
Gerald Durrell, The Whispering Land
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends