101
" The children slept late, and washed and dressed almost in silence. Both of them were afraid to speak. Maia packed her belongings in an old canvas bag and stroked the dog.
“I’ll come over in a minute to say good-bye,” said Finn.
The Carters’ boat was ready to leave, breakfast tidied away, ropes coiled. The professor was sorting out the firebox and feeding in fresh logs. Miss Minton, sitting in the stern, had a parcel wrapped in burlap on her knees.
“I’m ready,” said Maia, trying to keep her voice steady. She mustn’t cry. Above all, she mustn’t sulk. “Finn’s coming over to say good-bye.”
“No need,” said Miss Minton.
“He’d like to.”
“All the same, there is no need.”
Maia looked at her governess. Miss Minton seemed different…Softer? Rounder? More at peace?
“Why?” she asked. “Why is there no need?”
“Because we’re coming with you. We’re going on. Get back on the Arabella and tell Finn we’ll follow three lengths behind.”
As Maia turned to go, hardly believing that there could be such happiness, she heard a loud splash. Miss Minton was leaning over the side, watching the parcel she had held on her knees floating away downriver.
“What was that?” asked Maia.
Miss Minton straightened herself.
If you must know,” she said, “it was my corset. "
― Eva Ibbotson , Journey to the River Sea
106
" They went on arguing, but Maia had forgotten them again, following Finn in her mind.
Where was he? Did he have enough wood for the firebox? Were his maps accurate? Did he miss her at all?
Finn did miss her--she would have been surprised to know how much. He had never sailed the Arabella alone for any distance and it wasn’t as easy as he’d hoped. While she was under way he managed well, but when it came to anchoring in the evening or setting off at dawn, he would have given anything for another pair of hands. Not any pair of hands--Maia’s. She had obeyed his orders quickly but not blindly; he had learned to trust her completely.
And she was nice. Fun. Quick to catch a joke and so interested in everything--asking about the birds, the plants. This morning he had found himself starting to say, “Look, Maia!” when he saw an umbrella bird strutting along a branch, and when he realized that she wasn’t there, the exotic creature, with its sunshade of feathers, had seemed somehow less exciting. After all, sharing was something everyone wanted to do. He could hear his father’s voice calling, “Look, Finn, over there!” a dozen times a day. "
― Eva Ibbotson , Journey to the River Sea
111
" The howler monkeys had been right to laugh when he said he wasn’t going back. He had turned downriver again almost at once to fetch Maia, and he had made good time, traveling with the current--but he had come too late.
Finn went outside again and stood on the square of raked gravel that had been the Carters’ garden.
His mind seemed to have stopped working. He had no idea what to do. Should he go in to Manaus and see if he could find anything out--from the hospital perhaps?
After a while he found himself walking back along the river path to where he had left the Arabella. As he came to the fork in the path which led back into the forest, the dog put his head down excitedly into a patch of leaf mold. Finn pushed him aside and saw a smear of blood…and then a little way off, another…and another.
He almost fell over her, she lay so still, hidden in the leaves and creepers, almost as if she had burrowed into the forest to die.
But she was not dead. She lay stunned, still in her nightdress, breathing lightly with closed eyes. The blood came from a gash in her leg. He could see no burns on her skin. She must have fainted from loss of blood.
Then, when he said her name, she opened her eyes. One hand went out to his sleeve.
“Can we go now?” she whispered.
And he answered. “Yes. "
― Eva Ibbotson , Journey to the River Sea