Kk11 b

I woke one morning and Stella was barking outside the cave house. I got up and went out after her. At first she was nowhere to be seen. When I did find her, she was high up on the hill, half growling, half barking, and her hackles were up. I soon saw why. A junk! A small junk far out to sea. I scrambled down the hill and met Kensuke coming out of the cave house buckling his belt. “There’s a boat!” I cried. “The fire! Let’s light the fire!”

“First I look,” said Kensuke. And, despite all my protestations, he went back into the cave house for his binoculars. I raced up the hill again. The junk was close enough to shore. They would be bound to see the smoke. I was sure of it. Kensuke was making his way up towards me infuriatingly slowly. He seemed to be in no hurry at all. He studied the boat carefully now through his binoculars, taking his time about it.

“We’ve got to light the fire,” I said. “We’ve got to.”

Kensuke caught me suddenly by the arm. “It is the same boat, Micasan. Killer men come. They kill the gibbons and steal away the babies. They come back again. I am very sure. I do not forget the boat. I never forget. They very wicked people. We must go quick. We must find all orang-utans. We must bring them into the cave. They be safe there.”

It did not take him long to gather them in. As we walked into the forest Kensuke simply began to sing.

They materialised out of nowhere, in twos, in threes, until we had fifteen of them. Four were still missing. We went deeper and deeper into the forest to find them, Kensuke singing all the while. Then three more came crashing through the trees, Tomodachi amongst them. Only one was still missing, Kikanbo.

Standing there in a clearing in the forest, surrounded by the orang-utans, Kensuke sang for Kikanbo again and again, but he did not come. Then we heard a motor start up, somewhere out at sea, an outboard motor. Kensuke sang out again louder now, more urgently. We listened for Kikanbo. We looked for him. We called for him.

“We cannot wait any longer,” said Kensuke at last. “I go in front, Micason, you behind. Bring last ones with you. Quick now.” And off he went, up the track, leading one of the orang-utans by the hand, and still singing. As we followed, I remember thinking that this was just like the Pied Piper leading the children away into a cave in the mountain side.

I had my work cut out at the back. Some of younger orang-utans were far more interested in playing hide-and-seek than following. In the end I had to scoop up two of them and carry them, one in the crook of each arm. They were a great deal heavier than they looked. I kept glancing back over my shoulder for Kikanbo, and calling for him, but he still did not come.

The outboard motor died. I heard voices, loud voices, men’s voices, laughter. I was running now, the orang-utans clinging round my neck. The forest hooted and howled in alarm all around me.

As I reached the cave I heard the first shots ring out. Every bird, every bat in the forest lifted off so that the screeching sky was black with them. We gathered the orang-utans together at the back of the cave and huddled there in the darkness with them, as the shooting went on and on.

Of all of them, Tomodachi was the most agitated. But they all needed constant comfort and reassurance from Kensuke. All through this dreadful nightmare Kensuke sang to them softly.

he hunters were nearer, ever nearer, shooting and shouting. I closed my eyes. I prayed. The orang-utans whimpered aloud as if they were singing along with Kensuke. All this while Stella lay at my feet, a permanent growl in her throat. I held on to the ruff of her neck, just in case. The young orang-utans burrowed their heads into me wherever they could, under my arms, under my knees, and clung on.

The shots cracked so close now, splitting the air and echoing round the cave. There were distant yells of triumph. I knew only too well what this must mean.

After that the hunt moved away. We could hear no more voices, just the occasional shot. And then nothing. The forest had fallen silent. We stayed where we were for hours. I wanted to venture out to see if they had gone, but Kensuke would not let me. He sang all the time, and the orang-utans stayed huddled around us, until we heard the sound of the outboard motor starting up. Even then Kensuke still made me wait a while longer. When at last we did emerge, the junk was already well out to sea.

We searched the island for Kikanbo, sang for him, called for him, but there was no sign of him. Kensuke was in deep despair. He was inconsolable. He went off on his own and I let him go. I came across him shortly after, kneeling over the bodies of two dead gibbons, both mothers. He was not crying, but he had been. His eyes were filled with hurt and bewilderment. We dug away a hole in the soft earth on the edge of the forest and buried them. There were no words in me left to speak, and Kensuke had no songs left to sing.

We were making out sorrowful way back home along the beach when it happened. Kikanbo ambushed us. He came charging out of the trees, scattering sand at us and then climbed up Kensuke’s leg and wrapped himself round his neck. It was such a good moment, a great moment.

That night Kensuke and I sang ‘Ten Green Bottles’ over and over again, very loudly, over our fish soup. It was, I suppose, a sort of wake for the two dead gibbons, as well as an ode to joy for Kikanbo. The forest outside seemed to echo our singing.