The Amazing Adventure of Amanderella Gottsnobbler Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

 

Up the Amazon in a canoe.

 

Early the next morning, Amanderella was awoken by the sweet scent of coffee and the gentle rustle of leaves outside. Carmelita stood at her door, a bundle of clothes in hand. “Your attire isn’t quite right for jungle exploring,” she said, smiling warmly.

 The clothes were sturdy enough: boots, trousers, a jacket with too many pockets, and a broad‑brimmed hat. But they were a little too big, hanging loose on her shoulders, the sleeves brushing her knuckles.

 Carmelita fussed over her, tugging at the seams, pinning the cuffs. “They can be altered,” she said firmly, “before Ramone sets off for the camp. You’ll look the part, never fear.” “These clothes will keep you safe and comfortable. You must look the part of a true explorer.”

Amanderella smiled faintly, adjusting the oversized jacket. She felt half swallowed by it, yet oddly comforted. When she tried to pay, Carmelita waved it away. “They are already paid for.”

The Grewpug had clothed her, equipped her, and now the jungle waited.

As promised the clothes were ready by the following day. At dawn, the expedition boat was loaded to the brim: crates of tinned beans, barrels of biscuits, butterfly nets, mosquito tents, a wind-up gramophone and even a collapsible bathtub. Ramone stood tall at the helm, his vowels polished like a public‑school speech.

“My lady,” he announced, “we depart for the Grewpug camp!”

He turned the ignition. The engine coughed, wheezed, and fell silent. He tried again. Nothing.

The crew of the Pedal Power, who had come to wave Amanderella goodbye from the quay, exchanged nervous glances.

Ramone frowned. “Most inconvenient. The Grewpug lot will be expecting their provisions. Drat this contraption.”

Amanderella tilted her pointed hat. “Step aside.”

Before anyone could protest, she rolled up her sleeves, produced her trusty hat‑pin, and began stripping the engine down piece by piece. Ramone watched in awe as she laid out bolts, gears, and greasy cogs in neat rows across the deck.

“Explorers must be resourceful,” she said firmly. “Engines are just puzzles with oil,” she repeated to herself, focusing on each piece she removed, confident in her abilities to solve this one.

She cleaned a carburettor with her handkerchief, tightened a bolt with her coin‑sewing needle, and reassembled the whole contraption with surprising speed.

“Try it now,” she commanded.

Ramone turned the key. The engine roared to life, louder than a parrot chorus. The crew cheered, and Captain Flotsamwhirl rang his bicycle bell in triumph.

Ramone bowed, his accent crisp. “You have saved the day.”

Amanderella wiped her hands on her vest, which jingled faintly with coins. “Nonsense. Engines are easy. It’s people that are difficult.”

The boat surged forward, crates rattling, gramophone wobbling, and the jungle opened ahead.

The harbour faded behind them as Ramone guided the boat into the wide, brown sweep of the Amazon. The river smelled of mud and mystery, and the jungle pressed close on either side, alive with parrots, frogs, and the distant calls of monkeys and exotic birds. Each turn of the propeller sent ripples across the surface, disturbing the reflections of towering trees and underbrush.

The jungle filled the air with lively sounds, occasionally interrupted by the splash of a fish jumping out of the water. The bright greens of the leaves stood out against the deep brown of the water. Here, in such untouched beauty, adventure awaited around every corner.

As they moved deeper into the heart of the Amazon, mysteries loomed around every corner, from the hidden creatures among the mangroves to the strange noises of unseen animals.

Amanderella sat upright in the bow, compass in hand, her pointed hat tilted. Her vest jingled faintly with hidden coins whenever she shifted.

Ramone steered with effortless grace, each alteration in the boat’s course as smooth as silk. It was obvious that he was completely at home on the river — bronzed, serene, and impossibly handsome.

The river widened, the jungle pressed close with its chorus of parrots and frogs. The boat glided forward as if the Amazon itself obeyed Ramone.

Amanderella tilted her pointed hat. “I should like to try steering,” she announced firmly. “Explorers must learn every skill.”

Ramone bowed slightly. “As you wish, senhorita. But mind, the river is not a straight canal.”

She seized the tiller with gusto. At once the boat lurched sideways, sending crates of beans sliding and the gramophone wobbling dangerously. Ramone scrambled to catch a barrel of biscuits before it rolled overboard.

“LEFT!” she shouted slowly and loudly, convinced the river would understand. The boat obediently veered right.

“FORWARD, PLEASE!” she bellowed, and the engine coughed in protest.

Ramone, impossibly handsome and perfectly calm, stood beside her. “Steady, Miss Amanderella. Imagine you are guiding a bicycle through mud.”

She gritted her teeth, adjusted her grip, and managed a wobbly straight line. Ramone clapped his hands, though mostly out of relief.

At last, he reclaimed the tiller, the boat gliding smoothly once more. He smiled. “A promising start, senhorita. With practice, you may yet steer us to the Grewpug camp.”

Amanderella’s vest jingled faintly with coins as she stood tall, proud of her effort. “Explorers must be resourceful,” she declared. “Besides, the river clearly understood me.”

As the sun dipped low, the jungle grew louder — cicadas buzzing, monkeys calling, shadows stretching. Ramone pointed ahead. “The Grewpug Explorers’ camp lies upriver. We will reach them by tomorrow night.”

Amanderella clutched her compass, her heart light. She was ready for the next stage of her adventure: the mysterious Grewpug Explorers, hidden deep in the Amazon basin.

By late afternoon of the first day, the boat had churned steadily upriver, its engine humming thanks to Amanderella’s earlier repairs. The jungle pressed close, parrots shrieked, and the air grew heavy with the scent of damp earth.

Ramone steered them toward a wide sand bank that gleamed like gold in the fading light. “We shall camp here for the night,” he announced in his perfect public school English accent. “The river is not to be trusted after dark.”

He stepped ashore and turned to Amanderella, “Senhorita, you must not wander. The bank is full of dangerous creatures — jaguars prowl the shadows, and the river hides fish with teeth sharp enough to ruin a perfectly good expedition. Best to stay close to the fire.”

Amanderella tilted her pointed hat. “Explorers must be resourceful,” she replied, though she obediently stayed near the lantern. Her vest jingled faintly with coins as she sat upright, compass in hand.

Together they hauled a few crates ashore —beans, mosquito nets, and the gramophone balanced precariously on top.

They pitched a single tent, lit a lantern, and set up a small fire. Ramone produced a line and hook, and with effortless grace caught several gleaming fish from the river. He cooked them quickly over the fire, serving supper with cups of tea in fine china, as though they were dining in a college hall.

Amanderella insisted on boiling the kettle herself, shouting “BOIL, PLEASE!” slowly and loudly at the water, convinced it would obey.

The jungle answered with its own orchestra: frogs croaking, cicadas buzzing, and unseen creatures rustling in the mangroves. Ramone sat cross‑legged, perfectly comfortable, while Amanderella tried steering the gramophone needle, producing a wobbly waltz that blended oddly with the jungle chorus.

They ate the fish hot that night, listening to the gramophone’s wobbly waltz mingling with the jungle chorus.

At dawn, Amanderella awoke to find Ramone already pouring tea. The fish, now cold, were laid out neatly on a plate.

“Breakfast, senhorita,” he said smoothly. “Cold fish is the explorer’s staple. One must never waste provisions.”

Amanderella chewed thoughtfully, deciding that resourcefulness sometimes tasted rather odd. Still, she felt triumphant: halfway to the Grewpug Explorers, sleeping on the sand banks of the Amazon, and breakfasting like a true adventurer.

Once everything was loaded back onto the boat they set off again.

The jungle soon offered its surprises. A flock of parrots swooped overhead, shrieking nonsense words. Amanderella shouted back slowly and loudly: “HELLO! WHERE IS… THE GREWPUG CAMP?” The parrots squawked “Camp! Camp!” before vanishing into the trees. She beamed. “See? Perfectly understood.”

Moments later, the boat slowed down as a family of capybaras paddled across the river like furry barges. Amanderella waved politely. “River traffic,” she declared. Ramone chuckled, waiting until the creatures passed.

They caught up with a crate of “Emergency Pudding.” Ramone steered towards it. “That fell overboard the last time I delivered to the Grewpugs,” he said. Amanderella hauled it aboard. “Explorers need their puddings,” she declared.

On the bank, a tapir snuffled curiously, mistaking her pointed hat for fruit. She fended it off with a hat‑pin, announcing, “Explorers must defend their hats!”

Ramone commented, “This is most invigorating, Miss Amanderella. Quite like rowing at Henley, only muddier.”

Then a caiman drifted alongside, its eyes gleaming. Amanderella jingled her vest and offered a coin. “Everyone likes gold.” The caiman ignored her and slid silently away. Ramone shook his head, laughing.

A toucan landed on the prow, pecking at her compass. Amanderella tutted and spoke severely to the bird, “My compass is not fruit — find your own navigation tool.” The bird flapped away indignantly.

A school of fish leaped beside the boat, splashing her pointed hat. She declared, “Even the fish are cheering us on.”

Finally, a long, lazy anaconda dangled from a branch. Mistaking it for a rope, Amanderella tried to tie it to the boat. Ramone intervened gently, guiding her hand away. “Senhorita, that rope bites.”

As the sun dipped low, cicadas buzzed and shadows stretched across the water. Ramone pointed ahead. “The Grewpug Explorers’ camp lies upriver. We will reach them soon.”

The river colours shifted as mangroves closed in, the water turning from rich brown to a greenish sheen, its surface broken by darting fish that shattered the reflections of towering trees. Frogs croaked, cicadas droned, and unseen creatures rustled in the underbrush, adding to the sounds of the jungle that blended with the steady hum of the engine. Strange calls echoed from deep within the forest — not yet the Whistling Blue Monkeys, but eerie enough to keep anticipation alive.

Amanderella clutched her compass, her heart light. She had survived parrots, capybaras, tapirs, caimans, toucans, fish, and snakes — all without losing her hat or her coins. The jungle was alive with challenges, and now its mysteries pressed closer with every bend of the river. She was ready for the Grewpug Explorers.. ‘I’ll not only meet the Grewpug Explorers,  I’ll become one of them at heart.”