Slow. Just light chores for now.

While the intentions regarding this offering are a bit...obvious, you'd rather catch your breath after your mortal peril for now. You drag the reluctant imp of a woman back to your tent. After much gesticulating and increasingly frustrated attempts to see if yelling Spanish louder will help her understand it, she finally understands (or if she did before, accepts) laundry duty. It would be nice, considering your clothes are all either caked in jungle mud, soaked in sweat from the sweltering heat and humidity, or both. She seems, in spite of her constant stubbornness, happily surprised to have gotten off so easily, judging by her improved attitude later in the day. That night, she and her companions (some recently treated less gently) work together to make a surprisingly good meal for the officer corps, mixing flavorful local ingredients in with the bland rations available.

As night falls, the two of your return to the tents. She eyeballs you skeptically, but once you explain that she will be able to sleep alone tonight (as alone as one can sleep in a rather small tent), she relaxes and lays down. You don't want to push the envelope and do the same. Between the belly full of good food and the profound fatigue from your recent exertions and extreme anxiety of being overtaken by native hordes, you welcome a peaceful night's sleep.