As Lacost moved away, James’ dark eyes flashed with anger and he shot out a great hand to grab the Colon by the shoulder. But Gregory was quicker. With a swift movement he knocked up James’ arm and said sharply:
‘Don’t act like a fool! If you start a brawl here it would lead to our all being pulled in by the police and we’d miss the aircraft. With luck we’ll get him in a quiet corner sometime. Provided there’s no risk of your being found out, I won’t lift a finger then to prevent you from strangling the swine. He’s asked for it by killing that poor boatman.’
On seeing Lacost approach, Manon had kept her eyes averted, fearful lest anger at finding her two companions still alive should lead him, in a fit of spite, to disclose that she was his mistress and that they had been working together. Having heard him utter his new threat, she was greatly tempted again to urge Gregory to abandon his plans while there was still time. But, knowing that almost certainly it would be useless, she resisted it and decided to hold her fire until they were in Fiji.
Twenty minutes later they boarded the aircraft. The economy section was full, but the first-class compartment, in which Gregory had asked for seats, half empty. As the Colons were travelling economy, the two parties did not even see each other again until they arrived in Tahiti soon after half past five the following morning. Dawn was coming up and the mountains behind the airport provided a wonderful backdrop. Lacost and Corbin disappeared into the Customs, while Gregory and his friends went into the cafeteria to revive themselves, after their night flight, with coffee laced with cognac.
There, Manon ran into a woman she had known well during the months she had lived on Tahiti; she was about to take a plane for Hawaii, where she intended to settle permanently. The friend said that, since Manon had left, conditions in Tahiti had worsened considerably.
Not only were they still saddled with thousands of down-at-heel, often dangerous, Colons, but de Gaulle was now using the island as the headquarters of his nuclear-bomb experiments in the Pacific. Why he should require such great numbers of troops for security purposes no-one could imagine, but he had recently increased the garrison of the island by thirty thousand men. Added to that, France’s great new aircraft carrier, with an escort of destroyers, was due to arrive shortly, and to remain stationed there indefinitely. This big influx of Servicemen was leading to an all-time-high boom in the bars and nightclubs, but had already become a terrible infliction on the residents. With so much easy money about, the shopkeepers had become insolent, menservants could earn more doing jobs for the Army, and it was now almost impossible to get maidservants because so many of them had become prostitutes.
After the usual hour for refuelling, the QANTAS aircraft left for Fiji, arriving at 7.40 a.m. Fiji time. And there it was still Wednesday, for some four hundred miles to the east they had crossed the Date Line; thus theoretically, having gained a day in their lives.
Suva, the capital of Fiji, lies at the eastern end of Viti Levu, the largest and most populous of the three hundred islands in the group, but its airport is not big enough to receive jet liners, so these come down at Nandi, a hundred miles away at the western extremity of the island.
From Guatemala, at Manon’s suggestion, Gregory had cabled Hunt’s Travel Service to make all arrangements for them, so they were duly met, seen through the Customs and promptly whisked away to the Mocambo Hotel. To Gregory’s surprise, it was not simply a hostel for the overnight convenience of air passengers, but a luxury resort where scores of wealthy people were enjoying the attractions. After a good breakfast they went to bed, having agreed to meet again for drinks before dinner.
As soon as they had settled down in the dim, cool lounge over their Planter’s Punches, Manon endeavoured to persuade Gregory to go with her next day to Lautoka, the principal port at the western end of the island, where they could hire a boat to take them to her home in the Mamanuca Group, which lay only twenty miles to the west. But he firmly declined her invitation, on the grounds that they must secure salvaging equipment as soon as possible; and that he had already asked Hunt’s representative to secure seats for them on the local flight to Suva the next morning.
They had just ordered their second round of drinks when they were joined by a Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Knox-Mawer, whom Manon had met soon after coming to live in Fiji. It emerged that he was the Puisne Judge, who administered justice throughout that part of Viti Levu, and that his wife, June, was the author of a recently published book called A Gift of Islands, describing life in Fiji. They had previously been stationed for several years in Aden, about which she had written an earlier book, The Sultans Came to Tea. Gregory happened to have read it, and greatly enjoyed its interest and humour, so he was delighted at this opportunity to talk to her and her husband for he felt that few couples could tell him more about this colony in which he expected to make his headquarters for several months.
They all dined together, and afterwards, over their brandies, the young Judge told Gregory about the islands. The Dutch explorer Tasman had been the first, in 1643, to discover the Fiji Group; but the whole South Pacific remained on the imaginative maps of those days for another one hundred and forty years, under the description ‘Here be Dragons’. It was not until 1774 that Captain James Cook learned of them in Tonga, but only touched upon them. Then, fifteen years later, Lieutenant Bligh, of Bounty fame, when put overboard off Tonga by mutineers, with eighteen loyal officers and men in a six-oared boat only twenty-three feet long, had become the real discoverer of the Fijis. Tahiti had been nearer, but the winds contrary, so with great courage he had decided to attempt the three-thousand-miles voyage to the Dutch East Indies. During it he had passed right through the Fiji Group and in 1792 he had returned to chart many of its islands.
This led to European and, a little later, American ships calling fairly frequently at the Fijis. Then, early in the nineteenth century, they began to arrive in scores. The reason was the discovery of sandalwood at the south-west end of Vanua Levu, the second largest island. The wood was greatly prized by the Chinese for making articles used in religious ceremonies, and its dust was turned into joss-sticks. The profits in this trade were enormous, six hundred per cent being the average. One ship, the Jenny, traded fifty pounds’ worth of trash for a cargo of two hundred and fifty tons which realised twenty thousand pounds.
Eventually the supply of sandalwood gave out and new sources were found near Noumea. But in the 1830s and 40s the Fijis enjoyed another boom, owing to the discovery that the rocks in their innumerable shallow lagoons were great breeding grounds for bêche-de-mer. These are the sea-slug Holathusia, about eight inches long and three thick, having rough skins thickly coated with slime. Before shipping, the slugs were cleaned, par-boiled and smoked. Again the Chinese were eager buyers, because when the cured slugs had been made into soup it was believed to be a marvellous aphrodisiac. At small expense native divers could be paid to collect the bêche-de-mer and in less than a year a Captain could sail away with a cargo of them worth sixty thousand pounds.
Before the coming of the white man, and for nearly a century afterwards, the Fijis were peopled by innumerable small and large tribes, ruled over by independent hereditary chiefs. They were nearly always at war with one another, although there was little loss of human life. Often, for months at a stretch, a war would consist of small parties creeping into their neighbours’ territories, surprising a few of them cultivating their vegetable gardens, clubbing the men and carrying off the women. Occasionally, there would be a great gathering of ferociously-painted warriors who, after much shouting and boasting, would set off in their canoes. This could lead to ‘battles’ with a thousand or more men on either side. When the clash came there was more shouting and still more boasting, but when half a dozen men had been killed—or, to the superstitious terror of all concerned, a Chief had by accident been struck down—both sides called it a day. Eventually, one side gave in and brought baskets full of earth to the enemy in token of submission. The victors burned the huts and destroyed the vegetable gardens of the defeated, then went home happily declaiming on their bravery, taking with them the bodies of the slain to be cooked and eaten at a joyful celebration.
With the arrival of the traders, matters changed for the worse, because the most prized objects they had to offer were firearms. The possession of even a few muskets meant that the warriors could kill without risking their lives in personal combat. So the wars became more frequent and casualties much more numerous. By the fifties there were occasions when over a hundred victims were eaten after a victory.
Smiling, Gregory put in, ‘No wonder the Fijis became known as the Cannibal Isles.’
June Knox-Mawer laughed. ‘There is a nice story told about Ratu Edward Thakobau, the great-grandson of the King of Fiji who ceded the country to Queen Victoria. Once, when he was on his way to Europe, a stupid woman at the Captain’s table expressed her horror at cannibalism and would not leave the subject alone. Ratu Edward sent for the menu, read it right through, then said to the steward, “Is this all you have?” As the menu listed about a hundred items, the man looked very surprised, as he replied, “Why, yes, sir.” The Ratu shrugged and handed the menu back. “It all looks a little dull, and I am rather hungry. Please bring me the passenger list”.’
‘Another about him,’ the Judge followed up, ‘is of his meeting a lady who asked his nationality. He replied, “Half Fijian and half Scottish”. Naturally she was surprised to hear that he had Scottish blood, so he explained, “You see, in my great-grandfather’s time quite a number of Scottish missionaries came to Fiji and our people found that they made a very pleasant change from pork.” Then he added with that charming smile of his, “But perhaps I should have said, ‘Scottish by absorption’.”
‘He sounds a most delightful man,’ Gregory remarked.
‘He is, and a brave one. He won both the O.B.E. and the M.C. in the last war. The Fijian Chiefs are splendid people. Ratu Penaia has the D.S.O. and the O.B.E., and both the Ratu George and the Ratu Mara are O.B.Es. Ratu George is the direct descendant of the hereditary King of Fiji. He is greatly respected by everybody. The Ratu Mara rules the widespread Lau group to the east of Fiji, and is the Chief Minister under the new Constitution.’
James grinned at Gregory. ‘He is the cousin I mentioned when you remarked on my height that night we met in Rio. Mara stands six foot seven and his wife, the sweet Adi Lala, is taller than you are. The Fijian Chiefly Families are all highly educated, modern in thought and wise in their decisions. They are greatly honoured by their people, who still have the good sense to be guided by them in everything.’
‘I find it a little surprising,’ Gregory said, ‘that a family who were cannibals only one hundred years ago should have developed into such cultured people.’
‘That, I think,’ said Knox-Mawer, ‘is due to their being largely of Polynesian descent. As you doubtless know, the line dividing the Polynesian peoples from the Melanesians runs only a little to the east of Fiji, and they are utterly different races. The Polynesians of the Eastern Pacific are light-skinned, comparatively gentle and evolved a high culture of their own. Based on root similarities in language, there is even a theory now that Scandinavian Vikings came via South America to the Pacific and were among their ancestors. The Melanesians, on the other hand, infiltrated into the Western Pacific from New Guinea and came of Negroid stock. Until comparatively recent times they remained cruel and primitive savages.
‘The Fijians were originally pure Melanesians. But Tonga lies not very far to the south-east of Fiji, and the Tongans, a very brave and adventurous people, are Polynesians. For many years they not only frequently raided the Fijis but established permanent settlements in some parts of the Group. At times some of the leading Fiji Chiefs secured them as allies against their enemies. That led to intermarriage between the ruling castes of the two countries and, of course, the Tongan warriors often had children by the Fijian women they captured.
‘The present people of Fiji include many of mixed blood, and it was not only the Tongans who account for that. The white man made his contribution. Then those who settled here found the Fijians unwilling to work on their cotton and sugar plantations, so in the 1860s they began to import labour from the islands to the north and west of Fiji, where there were great numbers of hardy natives for the taking, I say “taking” because it virtually developed into a slave trade. Thousands of them were kidnapped and many thousands more induced to agree to work here for six years for what seemed to those innocents a good wage, and a promise to be shipped home when their time was up. But the planters played the wicked old game of selling them goods that got them into debt, and very few of the poor wretches ever saw their homes again.’
After pausing to light a cigarette, the Judge continued to tell Gregory how Fiji had achieved civilisation the hard way.
‘The traffic had raised such indignation in the United States that there had been talk of America putting a stop to it by annexing the Fijis; but nothing came of that. Yet with every year it became clearer that the country needed some form of stable government. It had developed into a positive hell, where every man was a law unto himself. Half the white inhabitants were the dregs of humanity: castaways, deserters, escaped convicts and beachcombers who had brought with them liquor, firearms and disease. With whip and gun they terrorised the natives and battened upon them. The more prosperous defied the local Chiefs and ignored their ordinances. The warring feuds continued and tribes who were victorious carried out orgies of cruelty.
‘There had already emerged two major, if small, powers in Viti Levu: the people of Bau Island, which lies some twelve miles off the east coast, and those of Rewa, who occupied the delta region in the south-east of the island, where afterwards Suva was to become the capital of the whole group. In 1843 a war between them broke out. As usual, it did not concern the interests of the common people on either side, but was brought about by a quarrel between two High Chiefs.
‘The Principal wife of Tui Tanoa, King of Bau, happened to be a sister of Tui Dreketi, King of Rewa, and she was unfaithful to her husband. On being found out, she fled to her brother. Instead of returning or punishing her, Tui Dreketi gave her in marriage to a Rewa Chief. In the light of Fiji customs there could have been no greater insult. Tui Tanoa called on his son, Prince Thakobau, to avenge him.
‘Thakobau was an outstanding personality. He was brave, cunning, wise within the limits of his upbringing and by nature as well as birth an aristocrat. The war with Rewa went on for years, and in the end Thakobau won it, but only through the backing of King George of Tonga, who allowed Prince Ma’afu to bring a Tongan army to Thakobau’s assistance.
‘On his father’s death, Thakobau conceived the ambition of becoming King of all Fiji, and this turned Ma’afu into his enemy. The Tongan Prince was a man of great ability. As his King’s representative, he controlled the greater part of the islands in the north of the group and had a powerful army. There followed more years of wars, intrigue and treachery. There were still forty petty Kings in the Fijis, but real power lay in the hands of fewer than a dozen. At length these were brought together, Thakobau and Ma’afu agreed to sink their differences and in 1860 the Fijis were made a Confederacy.
‘Unfortunately, it did not last, because Thakobau and Ma’afu quarrelled again. Meanwhile, a reign of anarchy continued. A British Consul had long been resident in Fiji, but he had not been given the powers even of a magistrate over his own nationals. The white settlers rode roughshod over Thakobau’s laws and American traders blackmailed him into making over to them large tracts of land in exchange for weapons to fight his wars against the tribes up in the mountains. Up till 1854, deaf to the pleas of missionaries, he continued to feast off his captured enemies. But in that year he suffered a sudden change of heart. The missionary Water-house succeeded in converting him, and on Sunday, April 30th, he was baptised into the Christian faith as Ebenezer.
‘His conversion made no difference to the universal strife. In 1867 a Confederacy of Western Fiji was formed, Thako-bau gave his people a constitutional government and was formally crowned King in Bau. But the British Government refused to accept his jurisdiction over their subjects and he came no nearer to controlling his own.
‘For some years past the more responsible settlers had agitated for Fiji to be annexed by Britain. Thakobau, although not liking the idea, had been persuaded to make offers of cession in both 1858 and ‘59, but the British Government had declined. Early in the seventies, as the only means of establishing law and order, another appeal was made, and backed by the probability that if Britain did not take over Fiji, either America or Germany would, Ma’afu at last consented to accept Thakobau as his overlord. In 1874 Benjamin Disraeli, the champion of British interests throughout the world, placed Fiji at the feet of his Queen as another jewel in the Imperial Crown.
‘Sir Hercules Robinson, the Governor of New South Wales, arrived in H.M.S. Pearl to represent the Queen and the cession took place on October 10th. Thakobau, by then an old, white-haired, bearded, but still stalwart man, was at last to find peace and honour after a lifetime of troubles. With great dignity he declared, “We give Fiji unreservedly to the Queen of Britain that she may rule us justly and affectionately and that we may live in peace and prosperity.” Then, with true nobility, he handed his old and favourite war club to Sir Hercules, saying that it was the only thing he possessed that might interest Her Majesty, and that he sent it to her with his love, confident that she, and her children who succeeded her, would watch over the welfare of his people.’
It was a touching scene that Knox-Mawer had evoked, and after a moment his wife went on to speak of the passionate loyalty that the Fijians felt towards the present Queen. In the fifties, when the British forces had been hard-pressed by the Communist revolutionaries in Malaya, volunteers had been called for. The word had gone round, ‘Our Queen needs us’, and boys of sixteen had made their way from the outer islands to volunteer. Many of the Chiefs had led their troops in person. Skilled in jungle warfare, the Fijian battalions had become the terror of the enemy and had covered themselves with glory.
Next morning, as Manon was loath to leave Gregory, all three of them took the aircraft for Suva. The Dakota flew only at a few thousand feet; so, during the short journey, Gregory was able to get a good view of the country over which they passed—the blue sea creaming white on reefs and beaches, then dense forests both down in the valleys and clothing the slopes of high mountains, until on lower ground patches of cultivation could be seen, and soon they were coming down over the great arc of Suva Bay to the little airport.
Hunt’s had secured them rooms at the Grand Pacific Hotel. On arriving they found it to be a happy mixture of the old and the new. The centre of the main block was a series of spacious, lofty chambers leading into one another—hall, lounge, bar and dining room overlooking the bay. There were white-clad Indian servants, and fans in the ceilings, which gave it the atmosphere of old Colonial days; while adjacent to it there was a three-storey modern block, in which they were given air-conditioned rooms looking out on the pleasant, palm-fringed garden and an oval swimming pool.
After lunch it was much too hot to go out; but at four o’clock Gregory and James had a swim in the pool, then drove the half-mile into the town to Hunt’s Travel Agency. At their request, Mr. Hunt himself saw them. He proved to be a big, cheerful man and they learned that he had formerly been a Police Inspector. No doubt it was his police training which had made him such an efficient business man, for in fewer than ten years he had built up an organisation that could offer every amenity in the island at a few hours’ notice.
But Gregory’s request was unusual. He said that later he might want to hire a motor cruiser and make use of Hunt’s fleet of cars, but for the moment he wanted the name of the firm most likely to be able to provide equipment for salvaging a wreck.
Mr. Hunt at once got on the telephone and made an appointment for them to see a Mr. Trollope down at the docks in half an hour’s time, then drew a sketch map showing how they could reach his office.
As it was not far, they decided to walk, so that Gregory could see something of the town. For a capital it was small, with only one main street. There were a few modern blocks, most of the buildings were in the Edwardian Colonial style, or earlier. The first thing that struck Gregory about it was its cleanliness and orderliness, in contrast to the cities in Central and South America from which he had come, and the sight of the six-foot-plus Fijian policemen in their smart uniforms gave him real pleasure.
The shops were adequate but not impressive. Nearly all of them were run by Indians or Chinese. Souvenirs and native work were to be seen in abundance, also beautifully-embroidered silk wraps, jackets and blouses at incredibly cheap prices. But it was the polyglot population in the streets that interested Gregory most. Hindu ladies with caste marks and wearing colourful saris, bronzed Britons in bush shirts and khaki shorts, Chinese in shoddy European suits, and tall Fijians, made still taller by their enormous puffs of thick, silky, black hair and wearing kilt-like sulus, jostled one another on the pavements.
Crossing a bridge over an inlet from the sea, they passed the big covered market, and soon afterwards came to the docks and Mr. Trollope’s office. He was a small, sallow-faced man who looked as though he had a dash of native blood. After stating the business he had come upon, Gregory left most of the talking to James, as he was better able to describe the equipment which would be required.
On learning that James was a Ratu, Mr. Trollope treated him with considerable respect, and for a while they discussed the technicalities of salvaging. In due course it emerged that Mr. Trollope could find the gear that was required, with a professional diver named Hamie Baker, and would be willing to hire out these facilities for three months. Gregory then agreed the price asked, and his willingness to put down a substantial deposit.
But when it came to transporting the gear to Tujoa, Mr. Trollope said that ships big enough to carry a large crane and pontoons sailed only occasionally to make a round of the outer islands to the west, and a special arrangement would have to be made for such a ship to go on to the French-owned Nakopoa Group. It would be a fortnight or more before the material could be sent on its way, so it could not be expected to arrive in Revika until about the middle of February. Gregory was not aware that Lacost had already secured salvaging gear, but assumed that he would do so in Tahiti and, as Tahiti was two thousand five hundred miles from Tujoa, there seemed a good chance that they would get there before him. In any case, that was the best Trollope could do, so a brief letter of agreement was typed out and Gregory wrote him a cheque.
That evening at the Grand Pacific they enjoyed a pleasant dinner, at which Manon, now on her home ground, displayed even more than her usual sparkle and vivacity. Then, after the meal, Gregory succeeded in telephoning to the home of a solicitor whom Knox-Mawer had recommended, and arranging an appointment for ten o’clock the following morning.
The solicitor, a Mr. Firebrace, turned out to be young and keen. He said there would be no difficulties about drawing up the simple articles of a company such as Gregory and James required, and that he would at once set about it. Having given him particulars, they had another stroll round the town and, to Gregory’s delight, he found that it had one really good bookshop. It was owned by a Mr. Desai, a short, portly, cheerful and most knowledgeable Indian. In addition to thousands of paperbacks, he stocked all the latest novels and a fine selection of large, illustrated books.
Gregory and James made several purchases, to be sent to the hotel, then, on Mr. Desai’s suggestion, went on to spend half an hour in the city aquarium. It was quite small, but contained a wonderful variety of brilliantly-coloured tropical fish.
Over lunch, they discussed future plans. As there was no likelihood of the salvaging equipment reaching Tujoa in much under three weeks, Gregory happily accepted Manon’s renewed invitation to stay for a while at her home. But James felt that he ought to return to Tujoa, both out of duty to his people and in order to be present to stall off Lacost and his gang, should they arrive there before the machinery being sent by Trollope.
Inland, opposite the hotel, there was an open space of several acres. On the left stood the Government buildings, overlooking the cricket ground, and on the right the Botanical Gardens, which sloped up to the Governor’s Residence. Late in the afternoon they took a stroll in the gardens to admire the magnificent specimen trees, then up the hill to the Museum. In it there were weapons galore, native basket-work, tapa cloth and a collection of the most beautiful shells, but the really impressive thing was several wood carvings, four to five feet in height, of men and women. They had been brought from Samoa; and Gregory felt that they could have held their own with anything produced in Europe during the past fifty years.
Next morning they said good-bye to James, and Manon was by no means sorry to see him leave. The sight of his big, muscular body and bronzed, strongly-cut features, surmounted by the great puff of black hair which, refusing to become conventional, he had never had cut had stirred her sexually from time to time, and he was an amusing and charming companion. But, quite unconsciously, he had time and again played the unwelcome role of ‘gooseberry’ when she was with Gregory. And it was in his interest that Gregory was determined to expose himself to grave danger. Now, at last, she would have Gregory on his own.
She would have liked to carry him off that Friday. But he was enjoying Suva, and had a perfect excuse for staying over the week-end, as the articles of the company, which he wished to take with him, would not be ready until the Monday morning.
Gracefully Manon resigned herself. Together they visited the cemetery, a mile or so on the far side of the town. It was of interest because it had several sections: Protestant, Roman Catholic, Chinese, Hindu. Occupying a sloping hillside, it was unusually attractive, as there were a number of large trees in it clipped like yews or boxes into immense, flat-topped drums.
The Knox-Mawers had said that they must go to the St. Elizabeth’s Home for Cured Lepers to see some remarkable paintings, so they drove out there on the Sunday. In recent years leprosy has happily come under control, but there are still victims of earlier years who have to be cared for, and the Home was run for that purpose by the Sisters of Mary.
The paintings that the Knox-Mawers had felt would interest them were by a man named Semisi Maya. In 1938 he had contracted leprosy and had been sent to the Leprosarium Island of Makogai, where in two periods he had spent fourteen years of his life. After his discharge he returned to his village, but his fingers were so contracted in towards the palms that he could not hold a brush. In spite of that, he started to paint using his knuckles and the stumps of his fingers, and with the hairs on his forearms he produces fine lines. The result is the most delightful pictures, both of Fijian scenery and abstracts with rhythmic lines in brilliant colours.
Thirty or forty of his paintings, about fifteen by nine inches, were for sale. Manon, having worked for an art dealer in Paris, was immensely impressed; so Gregory bought several of them for her.
On Monday morning Gregory received the articles of the company from Firebrace and, on telephoning Trollope, learned that the salvage gear would be shipped in another week, on February 7th, so should arrive at Revika about the 11th. He at once got on to Hunt’s, arranged for them to book seats for Manon and himself on the afternoon plane to Nandi, and to have a cabin cruiser at his disposal next day at Lautoka.
Instead of staying again at the Mocambo, from Nandi they drove up the coast the twenty miles to Lautoka, where Hunt’s had booked them rooms at the Cathay Hotel. To their amusement they found that, down to the minutest particular, the bedrooms were replicas of those at the Grand Pacific; so that on waking in the morning, for a moment they might well imagine themselves back in Suva.
That evening they took a stroll round the town. It was quite small, but again impressive by its cleanliness. Next morning they drove down to the harbour and went aboard the cabin cruiser Firefly. Her Captain was a middle-aged, lanky man named Clarke. He welcomed them with a grin and a bone-crushing hand-shake, and told them that he had emigrated eighteen years before from Australia. His crew consisted of four Fijians, all fine-looking fellows with enormous heads of soft, frizzy hair. There were four cabins and a small saloon. The after deck was covered with an awning, beneath which there were a table and comfortable basket chairs. Across the stern was slung a small speedboat for going ashore.
Soon after they sailed it began to rain, and within a few minutes it was sheeting down so hard that visibility was reduced to a matter of yards. But half an hour later the rain ceased with equal suddenness, overhead the sky became a harsh blue and the sun blazed down so fiercely that deck rails outside the shade of the awning became too hot to touch.
Early in the afternoon they approached the Mamanucas. The group consisted of one large island and several small ones, some of which were no more than atolls. Gregory had often read about the beauty of the South Sea Islands, but he decided that no author, however gifted, was capable of conveying their superb loveliness.
Against a background of bright blue sky they stood out extraordinarily clearly. In places either the jungle, or great rocky cliffs, came right down to the water; in others there were stretches of glaringly white beaches, formed from millions of small, crushed shells. All of them were palm-fringed, the trunks often leaning right over from the force of many hurricanes, their fronds a vivid green. The sea was a deep, rich blue with, here and there, streaks of turquoise in the shallows. A shoal of flying fish flitted by and, as they neared the beach and the launch reduced speed, over the side they could see thirty feet down to the fans of coral and fantastic forms of seaweed waving from the rocks.
Manon’s island was quite a small one, only about twenty acres in extent. When they came opposite her home, the cruiser dropped anchor a quarter of a mile off-shore, and the speedboat was lowered. In a matter of minutes the steersman beached her gently. Lifting Manon as though she weighed no more than a sack of feathers, another of the Fijian sailors carried her ashore through the foaming surf. Then he returned and, with equal ease, sloshed through the water to set Gregory down beside her.
They were welcomed by a grinning group of native house-servants, headed by her top boy, Joe-Joe. He was a skinny figure, his black face covered with a network of wrinkles, his great puff of hair measuring a good two feet from side to side, and gold rings in his ears.
The house was like those in which lived the native Chiefs. The main building was a big, oval bure. Palm thatch sloped down from a great ridge pole thirty feet up, to within ten feet of the ground, so that inside it should remain cool in the great heats. Near it there were other, smaller, bures, for use as bedrooms and servants’ quarters. The kitchen was a long lean-to at the back of the main building.
Entering the main building Gregory looked about him with delight. The walls were covered with thousands of bamboo canes of varying thicknesses, lashed together and arranged in geometrical patterns. Mighty beams, rough-hewn from tree trunks, supported the roof, the acute interior angle of which could be seen only dimly far above. These beams were covered with tapa cloth—a speciality of Fiji, which is made from the white bark of a tree, hammered out until it is thin and supple, then dyed black and brown in patterns. Superimposed on the cloth there were rows of lovely Pacific shells. The great room was dim, cool, spacious and only sparsely furnished with low tables of rare woods and comfortable chairs.
Wiping the perspiration from their faces, Gregory and his smiling hostess subsided into two of the chairs. Silent, barefooted, Joe-Joe appeared beside them with long tumblers of pineapple and fresh lime juice laced with rum. Manon had given her servants no notice of her coming, yet she had been expected and everything was prepared. From previous experience she had known that warning was unnecessary. How such foreknowledge of events is obtained is one of the great mysteries, but it is almost universal among the older people of the islands.
After having a shower, a sleep and a swim from the beach in water that was as warm as a tepid bath, they spent a heavenly evening. Later, in Manon’s bure bedroom, Gregory felt as though thirty years had fallen from him. At his wish she remained passive or became temporarily a tigress. Her body was superb and he delighted in having her stand with him so that he could run his hands down the satin of her sides, waist and buttocks, then feel her crisp, dark pubic hair. Her laughter was infectious and by a dozen devices she incited him to further efforts. At last, in the small hours, he said that he must leave her to go down to the beach and flash a torch, as he had arranged for the speed boat to come in and take him off to the cruiser.
‘Darling,’ she gave a little giggle, ‘for a man of your age and experience you are the greatest fool in the world. Joe-Joe, the other servants and the crew of the launch all realise that we are lovers. I’ll bet you a hundred francs to a centime that if you went to the beach and flashed your torch the boat would not come off. The crew will be sound asleep. They and my servants would be utterly ashamed for me if they had reason to believe that you were not in my bed.’
He had wished to protect her reputation, but, willingly, he allowed himself to be persuaded that she was right. Their limbs entwined, they fell happily asleep. And, of course, a few hours later, wrinkle-faced, smiling Joe-Joe set a tray down beside them that held two breakfasts.
After a swim they went in the speed boat to Malolo, the main island of the group. Again they were expected. An elderly Chief greeted them with smiles and all the marks of respect. His village consisted of a clearing in which there were some twenty bures—all large, airy, thatched buildings set well apart. There was not a sign of squalor anywhere but, here and there, hibiscus bushes and rows of small white stones outlining the paths made it very neat. On the fringe of the village there were tall coconut palms, breadfruit trees, mangoes, ugly, several-branched pandana palms, the leaves of which are used for thatching, and several very thin-stemmed palms with lovely feathery heads, a variety said to be inhabited by good spirits who kept away evil ones. From the forks of the trees orchids were growing, their blossoms hanging down in long strings.
In the middle of the village stood the Meeting House. Under a thatched roof it was open-sided except for a surround of low wall of woven bamboo about three feet high. They proceeded there for the welcome ceremony. At one end the Chief and the adult males of the village took their places, squatting with crossed legs on rush mats. Gregory and Manon sat down in similar fashion, facing the Chief. Before him was set a large, shallow wooden bowl on four squat legs, called a tanoa, tied to which there was a long string with shells attached.
To the accompaniment of chanting and rhythmic hand-clapping the dried and grated roots of the Piper methysticum bush was put in the bowl and mixed with water, to make the ceremonial drink known as Kava or Yaggona. A young warrior dipped a finely-polished, coconut half shell into the mixture. Holding the cup with his arms fully extended, he slowly sank down and offered it to the Chief. With hollowed palms, everyone gave three loud claps and the Chief drank from it. The same procedure was followed with Manon and Gregory, while the natives cried, ‘Matha! matha!’ which means ‘Empty it,’ as the custom is to drink it straight down. They, too, clapped three times when they had swallowed the concoction, which Gregory found to be a milky liquid with a faint flavour resembling rhubarb. The remainder of those assembled then drank in turn to the continuation of hand-clapping.
The ceremony completed, the Chief led his guests to a bench shaded by a pink-flowered cassia tree, and sat down between them. In front of them a dozen or more men formed a double line. Their leader uttered a low note. The others took their key from it and began to sing. They were accompanied by a band which squatted a little to one side. One man had a long, oval, double-ended drum upon which he beat incredibly fast with his finger-tips, others, with several different lengths of very thick bamboo, beat upon the ground. The harmony was magnificent. Some of the songs were primitive laments, others paeons of victory.
Later, a score of women performed meke for them, which is best expressed by ‘dancing a poem’. Unaided, Gregory could interpret only a few of the movements, but the gently-smiling old Chief explained from time to time that his corps de ballet was expressing the surging of the sea, the sowing and the harvest, the growth of great trees and their destruction in a hurricane.
Under the midday sun the sweat streamed down the shoulders of the men and the rounded arms of the women, who were naked to the waist; but they did not appear to mind. Their singing and dancing seemed effortless and, obviously, they were enjoying every moment of it. Never, Gregory thought, had he seen such happy people. When the show was over he shook every one of them by the hand. Unabashed, the men who had a few words of English cried, ‘Welcome! Welcome! Come again, yes. Big pleasure see you,’ and gave him friendly pats on the shoulder.
At a loss how to express his appreciation to the Chief, Gregory asked him to accept his handkerchief. It was a large square of gaily-patterned rough silk, a speciality of Beale and Inman in Bond Street, and had cost two pounds. The old man was delighted and, not to be outdone, insisted on presenting him with a dozen beautiful, highly-polished shells.
He accompanied them down to their speed boat and had his men carry them out to it, then smilingly waved them away. Suddenly it had clouded over and on their way back began to rain. By the time they got home they were drenched, but the rain was so warm they laughed about it. They were wearing only the lightest garments, so within ten minutes they had dried themselves and changed, to sit down to a lunch of paw-paws, delicious, fresh-caught crabs, and mangoes from trees in the garden.
The following morning they swam with glass-masked snorkels out to the reef. Twenty feet down, the undersea garden provided a wonderful scene of colourful activity. Between the coral fans flitted shoals of tiny brilliant blue fish, and hundreds of big prawns. Occasionally there came into view bigger fellows, red, rainbow-striped, and dead black—octopuses with gently-waving tentacles, sea-slugs and hermit crabs. Later the speed boat swiftly circled the bay, trailing them in turn behind it on a surfboard. Gregory had mastered the art many years before in the South of France, and Manon was an expert.
For a week they enjoyed themselves immensely. To reach Tujoa, Gregory intended to charter a small, private aircraft; and if he was to be there by the time the salvaging machinery was expected he would have to leave Manon within the next two days. Until he raised the subject she had wisely held her fire. At the time they were sunbathing on the beach. Rolling over so that she could lie upon him, she looked down into his eyes and said:
‘My love, be sensible. As you are so rich, why in the name of God should you risk your life just for the chance of bringing up treasure? If you continue to thwart Lacost and his gang you will be risking your life; make no mistake about it. I’m not suggesting that you should let James down. By all means provide him with the money to go ahead. But let him do it on his own.’
Gregory was greatly tempted to agree. Their long, happy days in the sunshine, swimming lazily in the warm sea, where an infinity of new sights could be seen among the rocks below: the starlit nights and love in the arms of a woman who was always willing but never pressed him beyond his own desires was as near Paradise as anything he had known since he had lost Erika. After all, he could easily send money to James; and why should he chance getting himself killed on Tujoa when he could continue this blissful existence with Manon? Smiling up at her, he said:
‘I’ll make no promises; still, I’ll think about it.’
But next morning a small, chuffing steamer dropped anchor off the main island. Shortly afterwards a native in a canoe arrived with Manon’s mail, a week-old copy of the Fiji Times and a cable for Gregory. It was from James and read:
French Resident here insists permit required to salvage from wreck and ten per cent findings payable to Government stop proceeding Noumea but application cannot be made in company’s name without producing articles stop suggest you meet me Noumea eleventh.
It was then the 8th and from Fiji too long a flight to be risked in a small, chartered aircraft. Even if Gregory left at once it might be several days before he could catch a connection. He had the Articles of Association with him but they had not yet been signed. Without them, James could get no further. Reluctantly he told Manon that he now had no option but to leave her. She begged him to take her with him. He pointed out that to get to New Caledonia he might first have to fly down to Australia, and said that it was pointless for her to make such a journey simply to be with him when he signed a few documents; but he promised to send for her as soon as he got to Tujoa. With that she had to be content.
That afternoon he left in the motor cruiser for Lautoka. There, as he had thought probable, to get to Noumea he would first have to fly down to Sydney, but, fortunately, the weekly QANTAS flight was due in next morning, and Hunt’s got him a seat on it.
By Wednesday evening he was in Sydney. The heat there was even more sweltering than in Fiji, as the city lacked the cool breezes that made winter in the islands pleasant, provided one did not go out during the hottest hours of the day.
He had to wait two days there, but on the 12th an aircraft landed him at Toutouta airport on the south coast of New Caledonia. The airport was forty kilometres from the capital so, during the drive, he had ample time to form an impression of the eastern end of the island. The scenery could not have been more unlike that of Fiji. There was no lush vegetation, no riot of colourful flowering shrubs, no neat villages of thatched bures. Only an occasional palm was to be seen and, had it not been for the heat, no-one would have taken it for an island in the tropics.
The road, which was excellent, curved away from the sea through sparsely-populated valleys between high, rolling hills that, in the distance, merged into mountains. It was no doubt this resemblance to the wilder parts of Scotland that had caused Captain Cook, when in the 1770s he had discovered the 250-mile-long, cigar-shaped island, to christen it New Caledonia.
The lower slopes were sparsely wooded by one variety of nearly leafless tree, which made the scene monotonous. Here and there, higher up, there were large patches of what looked like copper-coloured sand. These, Gregory’s driver told him, were the nickel mines, the deposits of which were the richest in the world, and made New Caledonia a wealthy country.
On entering Noumea, the greater part of which stood on high land overlooking five large and one small bay, Gregory saw the huge factory that smelted the mineral. The chimneys belched clouds of reddish smoke, the deposit from which had coloured the roofs of the nearby buildings and the ships at the adjacent wharf in the first bay. The driver said the smoke was poisonous, but the Societé de Nickel contributed ninety per cent of the country’s revenue and its position was so powerful that it could ignore all appeals to spend the large sum necessary to purify the surrounding atmosphere, and paid such high wages that it never lacked for labour. But, fortunately, the great plant was on the down-wind side of the town; so only the people living in its immediate vicinity were affected.
A mile further on they entered the town centre and Gregory bade his driver pull up in the big, tree-shaded main square, at the Tourist Office. There he telephoned several of the best hotels and located James at the Nouváta. Returning to his car, he was driven past the Baie de la Moselle, on the north side of which lies the port, then uphill across the base of a sizeable peninsula, along the shore of the even larger Baie d’Orphelinat. The southern side of the bay was indented by quite a small one that his driver told him was called Fisherman’s Bay. In it there lay at anchor many privately-owned vessels of various sizes and, beyond them, a battleship. The driver added that the Yacht Club was situated there and that the big building high up on the point was the Naval Headquarters.
Again the road left the sea front but, half a mile further on, returned to it, skirting the Baie des Citrons—a pleasant suburb where a number of typically French villas looked out across the road to long bathing beaches. Turning inland, they crossed the base of yet another peninsula, to come out on the last great bay, Ansa Vata. About half-way along it they passed a two-storey building set in an attractive garden, in which the flags of half a dozen nations fluttered from flag poles. The driver said it was the headquarters of the South Pacific Commission. Two minutes later, the car at last pulled up before the Hotel Nouváta.
Entering, Gregory found that most of the ground floor consisted of a restaurant and a large, circular bar. Beyond them lay a garden and swimming pool, round which fifty or more people, mostly in bikinis or bathing trunks, were enjoying drinks at tables under big, striped umbrellas. James was among them. On catching sight of Gregory, he jumped to his feet to greet him with delight.
Over dinner they discussed the situation. So far there had been no sign in Tujoa of Lacost and his friends; but, James having informed his Council of Elders that definite plans for the exploration of the wreck had been made, evidently Commandant Elbœuf, the elderly French Resident, had come to hear of it and had then proved obstructive. To start with, he had asserted that any treasure trove was the property of the French Government, but later, when James had insisted on seeing the text of this law, it had transpired that if a licence to search was obtained and the licensee paid all expenses, only ten per cent of the value of any treasure found would have to go to the Government. As Elbœuf was an old, and normally indolent, man, James was of the opinion that he had been gingered into this activity by Roboumo, the witchdoctor, who was most averse to any modernisation being introduced into the island.
After they had dined, Gregory and James signed the Articles of Association over the Fiji stamps already on the document, then had it witnessed by the manager of the hotel and his book-keeper.
The following morning, although it was a Sunday, Gregory rang up the Governor’s secretary and requested an audience with His Excellency on a matter of urgency. By way of introduction he used the name of the French Ambassador in London, who happened to be an acquaintance of his. He was then told that the Governor had been flown to Paris ten days earlier to undergo a serious operation; but his Deputy, General Riband, would grant the requested interview at five o’clock that afternoon.
The Residency proved to be a large, modern building, in a small park on high ground at the extreme north-eastern corner of the town. On paying off his taxi, Gregory got a shock, as the meter read 1,300 francs. He already knew that New Caledonia had its own currency—the Pacific Franc—but, even so, to run in from the hotel had cost him just over one pound sterling.
After waiting for some ten minutes, when he was shown up to the Governor’s office he received a very pleasant surprise. The bulky, blue-eyed, now grey-haired man seated behind a handsome desk had a familiar look. A minute later Gregory recognised him as one-time Lieutenant Ribaud of the Deuxième Bureau, with whom he had had friendly dealings during the early days of the war.
Recognition was mutual. Exclaiming ‘It is—yes, I have the name, Monsieur Sallust!’, the plump General stood up, beaming, came out from behind his desk, embraced Gregory and went on, ‘What pleasure to see an old friend in this Godforsaken place. How do you come to be in Noumea?’
‘First,’ Gregory smiled, ‘let me congratulate you, mon Général, upon having achieved this high rank.’
The General shrugged and threw out his hands. ‘Our President is good to those who worked for him in the days of his adversity. It is as simple as that. As you know, after the fall of Paris I joined the Resistance. While a soldier I was not unsuccessful, so when the war ended I transferred from the Police to the Army. Things have gone well for me. But oh! what would I not give to be out of this hothouse and back in Paris! Sit down, mon ami. A cigarette; cognac if you wish. Tell me now, what can I do for you?’
Accepting a Gauloise, Gregory lit it and gave particulars of his interest in the sunken Reina Maria Amalia.
The General screwed up his face in a grimace, ‘It is true that the French Government is entitled to ten per cent of the value of any goods brought up. But alas, mon vieux, you come too late. Only a week ago I granted a licence to another man to salvage her contents.’