How Teddy Roosevelt Slew the Last Mighty T-Rex Read online

  “Good morning senhor Roosevelt.”

  “And a hardy bom dia to you, Colonel Rondon.” Roosevelt pushed his spectacles to the bridge of his nose. “I just wanted to say that I have been very impressed with your choice of leaders on this expedition. I like this man Paishon. He’s as strong as an ox and has an excellent work ethic, and he leads by example. Good for him.”

  Rondon smiled faintly as if lost momentarily within his own thoughts. “Sim, obrigado, Colonel Roosevelt. Paishon has been loyal to me through several of the Commission’s expeditions. I can proudly say we have survived some very hard times together.”

  “Well, he is welcome on any of my future expeditions anywhere in the world. You can tell him so—anywhere, anytime. And I stand by my word. That is, if I can gather the strength and the willpower to leave New York and the States once again following this relentless grind.”

  Rondon took another sip of tea. “I will tell him.”

  Roosevelt laughed. “Oh, and I did not mean to imply that I was contemplating stealing him from you. I know good men are hard to find, especially amongst the native populations.”

  Rondon shook his head. “I took no offense, Colonel. This man Paishon is free to come and go as he pleases.”

  “Good, good.”

  A bustle among the livestock caught both commanders’ attention. Two bucking and snorting mules broke loose and tossed their newly packed burdens to the ground. Four camaradas chased the mutineers down in what looked to Roosevelt like a comical rodeo. The camaradas had everything back under control a minute later.

  Rondon shook his head. “The pack-animals are losing their minds, I fear.” He pointed to the north. “Luckily, only thirteen miles lie between us and the Dúvida headwaters. We will meet up with Captain Amilcar and the rest of our provisions six miles from here. There, we can divide our rations for the river journey. I pray the majority of our animals survive until then.”

  “I’m sure they’ll oblige,” Roosevelt replied. “But I feel the acquisition of canoes is a more pressing concern at this juncture. Have you any new ideas in this regard since we last spoke?”

  “I’m afraid nothing has changed, senhor.” Rondon poked a stick into the fire. “The camaradas will require a week to construct the dugouts once we arrive at the embarkation point. Several years ago I supervised the construction of a small bridge spanning the river’s upper tributary. From there, we will launch downriver and to the north.”

  Roosevelt rubbed his chin. “This is very unfortunate, of course. A more efficient expenditure of our time would be to proceed downriver immediately and not waste precious rations camping in the wilderness and building boats.”

  “Yes, senhor Colonel, yet simply swimming through the rapids would be even more problematic, do you not think?”

  Roosevelt laughed hardily. “That is an excellent point, dear man.” He sighed. “Well, I guess there is nothing we can do now but succumb to fate, for it has certainly dealt us a troubling hand.”

  “Unfortunately, that may be—”

  Roosevelt interrupted with a pointing finger. Teddy noticed several camaradas staring to the south and toward the desolate scrubby forest of the high plateau. All activity around the telegraph station suddenly and eerily ceased.

  Kermit and the naturalist Cherrie slowly rose to their feet. “What is it?” Cherrie asked.

  “I thought I heard a human holler,” Kermit whispered, waving his fingers gently toward the wilderness’s edge. “But I might’ve been mistaken.”

  Just then, Paishon sprinted back toward Rondon and Roosevelt. He arrived panting. “Nhambiquara,” he said to Rondon in Portuguese. Teddy Roosevelt knew enough of the language to thoroughly understand.

  Colonel Rondon nodded.

  Kermit reached for his gun, drawing an almost instantaneous reaction from the normally unflappable Rondon. “No,” he hissed.

  Teddy Roosevelt was acutely aware that Colonel Rondon remained a tireless advocate for native’s rights. He was one of the first men who dared approach the Nhambiquara tribes just a handful of years before—until then, the Nhambiquara would simply kill any outsiders who attempted contact. This was an extreme act of bravery in Roosevelt’s eyes and he deferred any command decisions regarding the natives to the heroic Brazilian commander.

  “Put that gun away. And I do not want to see any firearms for the duration of their visit. No exceptions!”

  Theodore Roosevelt caught Kermit’s eye and then nodded subtly. Kermit backed down. Hurriedly, the younger Roosevelt hid the rifle under a pile of palm fronds.

  Paishon ran to the station’s boundary before halting abruptly. He cupped his rough-hewn hands to his mouth and released a loud howl.

  They waited. The wilderness answered back a few moments later.

  Paishon repeated this ritual several times while the rest of the expedition remained frozen like statues. Roosevelt took a few measured breaths.

  Teddy Roosevelt noticed several black faces emerge from the wilds. They trickled out slowly at first, eventually building to a crowd of perhaps three or four dozen. The men, women, and children were completely naked except for some of the grown men, who wore a band around their waist that covered virtually nothing. Like all of the Nhambiquara tribes they had encountered over the last few weeks, the men had pierced noses and lips filled with fine rings of straw. The natives’ wide smiles put the expedition’s members at ease.

  “A friendly visit?” Kermit muttered.

  “Indeed.” Cherrie replied tepidly.

  Roosevelt watched Colonel Rondon huddle with Lieutenant Lyra for a brief moment. Lyra nodded curtly and then wandered away. Roosevelt thought he overheard the Portuguese words observar and segurar: “watch” and “hold”. Teddy agreed wholeheartedly with Rondon’s carefully executed precautions. Useful items and even animals often had the misfortune of “disappearing” following a Nhambiquara visit.

  Several Nhambiquara men strolled directly to Rondon. They all smiled broadly and jabbered without pause, pushing uncomfortably close to the Brazilian commander in the same manner that Roosevelt had observed at other native villages. Only Rondon and Paishon appeared to understand even a few of their words. A rather large group of women and children congregated around Roosevelt. They laughed and smiled and whispered, forming an ever-tightening circle around the former president.

  Rondon muttered, “Word must have spread that you are a great and famous chief.”

  Feeling a bit stifled, Roosevelt politely pushed some of the natives aside. He strode to the center of the encampment pulling his entourage along with him. Two malnourished dogs followed the natives into camp. They each wore collars of beads around their scrawny necks. Kermit’s dog Trigueiro and Rondon’s companion Lobo ran out eagerly to greet them. Roosevelt watched with pity as Trigueiro and Lobo sniffed their unfortunate cousins, never bothering to take the typically aggressive dog-like stance when confronting strange animals of their ilk. Even our dogs were sympathetic to their plight, he thought.

  Kermit and Cherrie returned with cameras. The Nhambiquara men lined up with their bows and arrows for what appeared to be an exhibition of some sort. The natives pulled the bows tight and pointed straight upwards. Slowly they lowered their bows, aiming at the target before releasing their arrows. They repeated this odd maneuver whilst missing the majority of their shots, often quite badly.

  Kermit took a photograph and shook his head. He turned to his father saying, “If their intention is to intimidate, they are doing a very poor job.”

  Roosevelt noticed two older native men making a grand entrance with noses tilted upward. They each had three or four female companions who strode gracefully beside them carrying various items. The women appeared to be well treated and also well fed.

  “And now arrives the aristocracy,” Cherrie mumbled.

  Roosevelt’s set his sights on a strikingly tall man striding into camp alongside one of the native’s harems. He had no female companions, yet he was also quite naked and carried a
spear and bow in Nhambiquara fashion. As the man approached, Roosevelt’s mouth lay agape noticing that he bore a full beard and his skin pigmentation was unquestionably white, and yet he was weathered to a leathery brown.

  The oddly out-of-place man strode directly toward the dumfounded president, even ignoring Rondon, who stood only a few feet away bearing a most confused and astonished look. The man halted before Theodore Roosevelt, meeting the ex-president with brightened blue eyes and a smile that communicated mild delight. “I’m so honored to meet you President Roosevelt. I have come to offer my services to your fine and noble expedition.” He bowed slightly.

  Roosevelt stood tongue-tied for a moment, allowing the sight of this man to fully inundate his brain. The fact that this man had obviously lived amongst these natives was enough to pique Teddy’s interest, but equally remarkable was his almost infallible discourse. But it was the stranger’s dialect that immediately betrayed his origins, known to everyone in nearly every corner of the world from Indonesia to Timbuktu. His grand words identified him as an educated man but also, unquestionably, as an Englishman in every respect.

  CHAPTER 3

  Only a few moments had passed before every officer and scientist of the Roosevelt-Rondon Expedition had taken notice of the peculiar white man who wandered into camp amongst the Nhambiquara natives. Colonel Rondon, at least outwardly, appeared to show the least curiosity. He remained engaged with the native chieftains whom he must have deemed his highest priority; although Roosevelt spied Rondon sneaking a glance or two.

  Kermit and Cherrie managed to break away from the natives, joining Roosevelt who ushered the lanky Englishman aside. Theodore Roosevelt was wholly taken aback by the man’s unreserved lack of modesty standing before a group of strangers without a stitch of clothing. Roosevelt also noticed that the man bore several rows of deep scarring across his boney back. The unusually tongue-tied former president motioned for him to sit.

  “But first,” Roosevelt asked tepidly. “Would you be so kind to cover… to wear… Well, needless to say, your appearance is quite disconcerting.”

  The man laughed. “But of course, and I sincerely apologize for my nudity. It appears I may have forgotten some basic decorum when greeting men who have ventured from beyond central Brazil. In fact, it has been somewhat freeing and a bit exhilarating living among these natives and breaking so many taboos intrinsic to our heritage. Yet covering my nakedness is the least I can do.”

  Kermit searched around, but all he could find was an old dish towel.

  The man quickly tied the rag around his waist and sat on the hard ground, crossing his muscular legs beneath his scrawny frame like a Buddhist monk. He shook his head. “Alas, it has been some time since I have been amongst a group of ‘civilized’ men. And now I sit before one of the great world leaders, President Theodore Roosevelt!”

  “Former president,” Kermit corrected flatly.

  “Please call me Colonel,” Roosevelt added, making a mental note of the stranger’s indulgent flattery, something he’d always thought masked ulterior intent, or worse, indicated downright deception.

  “Ah, I see,” the man replied. “Without a doubt I have been away for quite some time.”

  Colonel Rondon finally joined the group. He bent to pour himself another cup of tea. Roosevelt noticed Rondon’s eyes focus on the stranger.

  “My name is William James Martin, Lieutenant On Her Majesty’s Service. Or should I say, formerly in the service of the Queen.”

  Roosevelt nodded curtly. “And I do thank you for clarifying your status, Lieutenant Martin. I could not imagine welcoming a deserter into our midst.”

  “Indeed,” Martin replied with a wide grin. “Rest assured, I have been granted leave by Commander Fawcett himself.”

  “Fawcett,” Kermit said. “Percy Fawcett? What is he occupied with nowadays? Train-sized anacondas? Five-headed frogs?”

  “Kermit!” Roosevelt cautioned with a raised finger. “Lieutenant Colonel Percy Fawcett is a greatly respected mapmaker and explorer. He has been trekking through many parts of the Amazon for years and has added numerous and previously unknown chapters to our understanding of this continent. He is a man who should be offered the utmost respect.”

  Kermit Roosevelt shrugged.

  Teddy Roosevelt grimaced at his son’s gentle insolence. Turning back to Martin, he asked, “And on what particular mission did you part with Commander Fawcett?”

  Roosevelt noticed a bit of hesitation on Martin’s part. He watched the man’s eyes dance between himself and upon Rondon’s tea. “Your stark appearance,” Roosevelt continued, “has robbed me of my manners it appears, dear sir. Would you care to share in our breakfast? Perhaps you would like some coffee, or a biscuit and beans?”

  “I’m afraid even a small sample of your diet would make me quite ill at this moment, since I’ve grown accustomed to the native’s fare spanning several years. But a spot of tea would be lovely.”

  “Of course…”

  Colonel Rondon poured Martin a cup of tea. Martin tipped his cup back and took a long sip. Roosevelt watched Martin’s eyes close slowly as if attaining pure nirvana.

  “I was inquiring about your mission with Commander Fawcett?”

  “Oh, oh yes, Colonel.” Martin took another sip. “I was part of Fawcett’s expedition that mapped the Rio Verde.”

  “Then, is Fawcett currently in the Amazon?”

  “That is a question that I cannot rightfully answer. My last contact with Commander Fawcett was… hmmm… five summers ago by my reckoning.”

  “Five years!”

  “And I have not heard news of him since.”

  “Then you have not lived in total isolation?” Kermit asked.

  “I have never stated such, yet I have taken up with the Nhambiquara as well as several other tribes, some of which I’m certain even Colonel Rondon has yet to make contact.”

  Rondon shook his head. “How is it possible to stay hidden in the Amazon for so long? I have never been informed of any white man living amongst the natives. News travels slowly in the wilderness, but it does proliferate, nonetheless.”

  Martin smiled widely, still maintaining eye contact with Roosevelt. “Perhaps Colonel Rondon’s sources are somewhat inadequate.”

  Cândido Mariano Rondon slowly poured his cup’s contents onto the campfire’s flames scattering sizzling drops across the searing embers. Kermit and Cherrie exchanged wide-eyed glances.

  Theodore Roosevelt’s welcoming face suddenly straightened. “There is no call for insolence, Mister Martin.”

  “My humble apologies… It was not my intent to insult Colonel Rondon or anyone else in your expedition. I was simply offering some justification for adding me to your intrepid troupe.”

  “And exactly what are those qualifications?” Kermit asked.

  Martin waved his hand toward the Nhambiquara. “I have studied these people and have lived amongst them. I know their language and, most important of all, they have accepted me into their culture.”

  Roosevelt rubbed his chin. “Indeed, that is impressive on its face.”

  “And what else?” George Cherrie asked.

  “I have a Doctorate in Social Anthropology from Cambridge University, bestowed graciously in the year of our Lord, Eighteen hundred and ninety-eight.”

  Cherrie raised a brow. Kermit poked at the fire.

  “An Anthropologist,” Roosevelt said, eyeing Rondon for reaction. “Then, should we address you as Doctor, Mr. Martin?”

  “With all respect, referring to me as Martin or Lieutenant Martin will suffice.”

  Kermit snickered, perhaps realizing that he was the only person present who understood and recognized his father’s sublime humor.

  “Regardless, senhor Martin,” Rondon said. “We simply cannot afford another mouth to feed once we embark on the river journey. Our supplies are already stretched to their limit.” Rondon waved his hand dismissively.

  “I am well versed in living off whatever the j
ungle provides.”

  “Paishon and I already have a good relationship with the natives—”

  “Yes, dear Colonel, but I have—”

  “Silence,” Rondon said, eyeing Martin with razor-sharp darts. “Consider yourself fortunate that you are not currently under my command, or you would have most likely already earned fifty lashes.”

  “Gentlemen,” Roosevelt said with a gentle, waving hand. “Gentlemen, please.” Teddy sighed deeply. “Mister Martin, let me just say that in just a few minutes time you have managed to burn some important bridges with this expedition. Now I must ask you to plead your case quickly and concisely. Both Colonel Rondon’s and my patience does have its limits, and daylight is advancing. Can you offer anything else that could entice us to agreement? Otherwise, we must part ways.”

  Martin smiled quite confidently, a recurring trait that annoyed Roosevelt to distraction. This man was either extremely self-assured, a fool, or he was a raving maniac—or perhaps a bit of all three.

  “Well, I have travelled down the river tributary to which you are now destined. Does this not pique your interest?”

  Roosevelt’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing Martin’s simple declaration. The entirety of the last six months of anticipation and dire hardships would be in vain, if they could not rightfully declare that they were the first outsiders to trace the Amazon’s last unmapped river to its base. Teddy cared less about the possible ridicule he’d endure with such a revelation, but he cringed with disappointment knowing that he was now in the midst of his final adventure of any significance—his aging and battered body could take no more.

  “The river has many twists and turns and countless rapids. The white water and sheer rocks would likely tear your canoes to shreds if the obstructions are not anticipated by an experienced guide.”