Without another word, the lean, sinewy old man turned away and, his naked feet making hardly a sound on the mats, disappeared through the rear door of the bure.
‘A nasty bit of work if ever there was one,’ Gregory remarked. ‘Anyhow, we know now why the divers refused to work for Lacost, de Carvalho and Co. How is this likely to affect us? Do you think the divers will refuse to work for you?’
James gave an unhappy nod. ‘I’m afraid so. The poor fellows will find themselves between the devil and the deep sea. They will feel terribly bad about refusing me, but they won’t dare defy Roboumo. And there is another thing. In view of his threat to have the White Witch curse us, I don’t think I’d now be prepared to go on.’
‘My dear James!’ Gregory’s voice was a trifle sharp. ‘You really surprise me. It is understandable that ignorant natives should be intimidated by such threats, but not an educated man like you.’ As he spoke, he moved towards the drink table and added, ‘May I help myself to a brandy-and-soda?’
‘By all means. I’m sorry that, owing to custom, you’ve had to drink yaggona all the evening. It has very little kick in it, but it suits my people. They have no head for spirits, so I publicly discourage the drinking of them. In fact, in some Melanesian islands they are still prohibited altogether, because the “dragon” whisky and “crocodile” gin the traders used to sell them led to so many outbreaks of violence. But to get back to Roboumo. I feel that we must take his threat seriously.’
‘All right, but let’s examine it critically. What evidence have you that these spells really work?’
‘Plenty. And there is no doubt at all that the vuniduvas, as the sorcerers are called, can overlook people when separated from them by great distances. They often produce information about happenings in the outer islands here that they could not possibly have known by normal means. And sometimes it is to do good. For instance, last year one of them told a servant of mine that he must buy certain medicines and take them at once to the small island where his family lived because his young son had had a serious accident. Of course, I at once gave him leave to go, and when he returned a fortnight later he told me that the sorcerer had been quite right. The boy had fallen from a tree while collecting coconuts, injured his leg and the wound had become infected. If it had not been treated within a few days he would have died.’
Gregory shrugged. ‘That’s fair enough. Thought transference has been scientifically proved, and distant vision is a form of it. But being capable of putting a curse on a person so that he dies is a very different matter.’
‘It happens, though. Here witchcraft is called drau-ni-kau, and it is still widely practised. Men who have money will pay a big sum to a vuniduva to put a death curse on a really hated enemy. The victim simply weakens and dies. Then the man who has caused the curse to be put on him goes to his grave in the middle of the night and drives several sharp stakes down into the body, to prevent the spirit from returning to haunt him. I have several times seen such stakes in the graves of newly-dead.’
‘I’m not doubting your beliefs, James, and, in spite of the fact that for the purposes of the war I once had to take a Satanist into partnership, I don’t really know that much about the occult. But it is generally held to be a fact that curses do not work on people who are convinced that they will have no effect. How, otherwise, could comparatively few white men have subjugated many thousands of Negroes in Africa? Or the people here in the South Seas, for that matter? The witch-doctors would have killed them off in no time. Anyway, I don’t believe for one moment that Roboumo and his White Witch have the power to kill me by occult means. And it was I the old badhat threatened, not you.’
True, it was to you that he actually spoke his threat; but only, I imagine, because he knows I would not be able to tackle the job if you withdrew your financial backing. If he finds that you refuse to be intimidated I think it certain that his next step will be to threaten me, in the hope that I have enough say in matters to make you throw in your hand.’
‘And would you?’
‘I hardly know,’ James murmured miserably.
‘Now listen, my boy.’ Gregory spoke firmly but kindly. ‘You know very well that this gold means nothing to me. If I had another sixty years to live I couldn’t spend all the money I already have. In any case, I had meant to make my share of it over to you. But what does matter is not allowing either de Carvalho or Lacost to get the better of us. The one double-crossed us and the other did his best to kill us. And I’ll bet you any money you like that neither of those tough eggs is going to get the jitters because that old buffoon has said that he’ll have a magic put on them. In a week or so they will be back here with Fijian divers and going to work. The very idea of allowing those blackguards to lift the stuff in front of my eyes makes me as mad as a hatter. But this is your party, and I do appreciate that, your ancestry being different from mine, we have inherited very different mental reactions to certain possibilities. So if you’d rather that we chucked in our hands I’ll agree, and think none the worse of you. Now: which is it to be?’
James hesitated for only a moment, then he said, ‘You have been so very good to me. I can’t let you down. You may be right, that your disbelief in the White Witch’s powers will turn her curse aside. Anyhow, I’m game to go through with it.’
‘Good man.’ Gregory reached up and patted him on the shoulder. ‘Then we had best not let the grass grow under our feet. I suggest that first thing tomorrow you find out if the divers here are willing to defy Roboumo and work for us. If they are, we keep the clear lead we have over the enemy. If they refuse, the enemy already has a lead of several days over us; so the sooner we can get to Fiji ourselves and collect some divers the better our chance of catching up.’
‘I’ll have myself called early and go down to the town with Aleamotu’a. Between us we can see several of the men, and I should be able to let you know the form at breakfast. While I am down there I’ll call in at the church and arrange for candles to be burned to my patron saint every day from now on for your protection.’
‘Thanks, that’s very good of you.’ Gregory had no great faith himself in the efficacy of burning candles, but he was strongly of the opinion that anyone who had could, by so doing, draw down spiritual strength and powerful influences to aid any good purpose. After a moment he added:
‘I did not know that you were a Roman Catholic.’
‘Oh, yes,’ James replied cheerfully. ‘Most people in the Nakapoa group are now at least nominally Catholics, although probably three-quarters of them pay only lip service to that religion. You see, the Catholic Fathers and the Protestant missionaries arrived in the South Seas at about the same period. Both, inspired by their faiths, set extraordinary examples of courage and self-denial. Here, owing to the influence of France, the Fathers ultimately triumphed. But in the Fijis the Methodists proved more successful; perhaps because they brought their wives with them.’
‘What difference did that make?’ Gregory enquired with interest.
‘For one thing, that they should have wives at all made them seem more natural and human to the natives. For another, their women, both British and American, showed remarkable bravery. With the sweat pouring off them, as it must have seeing the layers of clothes they persisted in wearing, and bitten by myriads of mosquitoes, they still went out to nurse the sick and browbeat the natives into abandoning barbaric customs.
‘In the middle of the last century cannibalism was still rife in all these islands. Before his conversion to Christianity King Thakobau boasted of having eaten meat from over a thousand corpses. He employed a whole tribe of warriors from the island of Beqa to do nothing else but kidnap people to supply his cooking ovens. Against all odds the missionaries and their wives fought with the greatest tenacity to persuade him to stop eating human flesh, and prevent a Chief’s widows from being strangled and buried with him when he died.’
‘Do the Chiefs still practice polygamy?’ Gregory asked.
James shook his head. ‘Not since they accepted Lotu, as Christianity is called. Many of them in the outer islands still keep concubines; but not the High Chiefs such as the Ratus of Fiji.’
‘And how about yourself? Attached to the household of such a fine specimen of manhood I should have expected there to be half a dozen pretty young women.’
‘There were four,’ James admitted with a smile. ‘But on the morning of our arrival I sent them away. I should have, in any case, when I married, as I expected to do, a Princess of the royal families of either Fiji or Tonga. But since I met Olinda in Brazil my thoughts are all of her. I have no desire for any other woman, although it seems that the chances of making her my wife are very slender.’
‘I fear that is so. As she is a Roman Catholic, that rules out a divorce. I suppose, though, as she has no children, she might manage to get an annulment?’
‘Even if de Carvalho consented—which I am sure he would not—that would prove a long and costly business. As things are, I fear it is equally out of the question.’
By then it was past one o’clock. Gregory yawned and stood up. ‘Since you will be getting up early in the morning I think we’d best get to bed.’ From the garden there continued to come the sound of low, rather mournful, singing, and he added, ‘They are still at it out there. What time will they pack up?’
James looked rather surprised. ‘They won’t. That is, not until dawn. Later, when the yaggona begins to make them a little tipsy, the singing will get a bit ragged. But the idea is that they should sing us into pleasant dreams, and they are thoroughly enjoying themselves.’
When they met for breakfast James said, ‘It is as I feared. Between us, Aleamotu’a and I saw five of our best divers, and they all refused to play. None of them acknowledged that it was because they had been threatened by Roboumo. They made various excuses—not well enough themselves, a member of their family very ill, the loss of a job which, if they threw it up, they might not get back later on, and so on.’
Gregory nodded. Then it has come to a race between ourselves and the others. Immediately after breakfast we’ll get off a telegram to Hunt’s to send a private aircraft to fetch us and to engage rooms for us at the Grand Pacific.’
‘No!’ James shook his big mop of hair. ‘It’s no good our going to Suva. The natives on Viti Levu, with very few exceptions, don’t go in any more for diving as a living. They can make more money working in the hotels, driving trucks and acting as casual labourers for the shopkeepers. We must go to the outer islands to get the type of man we want. Probably the best are to be found in the Lau Group. But that is two hundred miles to the east of the main island; and we’ll have to go in a big launch to pick them up. It would be much quicker to go to the Yasawas, on this side of Viti Levu. They are no great distance from Lautoka, and you could ask Hunt’s to engage a big launch for us there.’
A message to that effect was duly written out and sent down by a runner to the telegraph office. They then collected their towels and went out to have a dip in the pool. When Gregory had walked the few yards from his bedroom bure to the main one he had noticed that the sky was overcast and that there was a slight drizzle; but as they went out into the garden he was amazed at the complete change of scene from the previous day. The distant islands could no longer be seen, neither could the horns of the big bay. The sea was no longer a deep blue, nor the sky a vault of azure. For the limited distance that could now be seen beyond the harbour, the sea was grey; the yellow had gone out of the palm fronds and they now looked a darkish green. Water dripped dismally from the big, shiny leaves of the nearest trees and much of the colour seemed to have left the flowers. Altogether, it was a gloomy and depressing scene.
Remarking on the change from the two previous days, Gregory asked, ‘Is it often like this?’
‘Oh, yes.’ James shrugged. ‘Sometimes it dries up in a few hours; at others the rain goes on for weeks. When the breeze drops, as it has now, and the humidity increases, it can become very unpleasant. But we are quite used to it and everyone continues to work or go for a swim just the same.’
Gregory spent the morning reading, while James went down to the town and saw to numerous business affairs. He returned with a reply from Hunt’s: an aircraft would arrive to pick them up at 1500 hours approximately, rooms had been booked for them at the Cathay Hotel, Lautoka, and arrangements about a launch were being made for them there.
Having lunched off a ‘fish plate’—which consisted of delicious fresh crab meat, walu, the best local fish, and big prawns, followed by fruit, they were driven in the jeep down to the little airport. The weather had not improved and on the lower levels the mist was so thick that they feared the pilot might not be able to find the landing strip. But James had flares lit, and the aircraft came down safely only a quarter of an hour after its E.T.A.
Soon after they had taken off they passed out of the clouds and caught a glimpse of Tujoa’s peak rising above them. Their journey was then uneventful. Hunt’s had a car ready to meet them at Nandi, and by half past six they were at the Cathay Hotel, Lautoka.
After dinner there that evening Gregory said:
‘I’ve been thinking, James, about the next few days. As I don’t speak Fijian, I should not be the least help to you in arranging with the petty Chiefs in the islands for the hire of divers; and the Mamanucas lie only a little to the south of the Yasawas. By now Manon has probably given up all hope of ever seeing me again, but I’m sure she would be pleased to; so I’d like you to drop me off on her island.’
James grinned at him and raised one eyebrow. Gregory grinned back and went on:
‘You’re quite right, my boy. While you labour in the heat of the day I’ll toil not neither will I spin, but I may do a few other things. When you have collected your team you can come and pick me up; then we’ll make all steam back to Tujoa.’
Next morning, Hunt’s representative took them along the wharf and aboard the Southern Cross, a cabin cruiser that could accommodate a dozen passengers, and introduced them to her Captain, Bob Wyndhoik—a tubby, brown-skinned little man who, it transpired, had a mixed ancestry of Dutch, Indonesian and Maori and had been born in New Zealand.
He said they were lucky to get him, as he had been booked to take a party of Americans for a week’s trip round the islands, but it had been cancelled the day before; and, at the moment, there was no other boat of the size they wanted available at Lautoka.
When told what his boat was required for, he said that he would be taking on stores during the morning, so could sail that afternoon. But he stipulated that any divers they collected must sleep on deck. James said that was customary and a price was agreed; then he and Gregory went ashore to get some Fijian money from the bank on the corner of the main street, and do some shopping.
On the top of a slope opposite the hotel stood the Lautoka Club, which had a fine view over the bay and a big swimming pool. By courtesy of the secretary, they had drinks and a swim there before lunch. After the meal they had their baggage taken down to the Southern Cross and went aboard.
The weather was clement and the blue sea only slightly choppy, so, when they were well clear of the inshore reefs, Captain Bob Wyndhoik came and sat himself down beside them, under the awning shading the after deck. He proved a cheerful, garrulous little man and, having spent over fifteen years in the Fijis, knew a lot about them.
An outrigger canoe beating towards Lautoka swept past them, tilted right over, her triangular sail lying at an angle of forty-five degrees from the surface of the sea. ‘Ah!’ exclaimed the rotund Bob. ‘Look at her! What a sight for you! Them Fijians certainly are good sailors. Time was when they built the finest canoes in all the Pacific. Great double ones with decks fifteen or more feet wide above the two hulls, and a thatched house on the stern for the Chiefs to live in when they went on long voyages. They was long voyages, too. Down to Tonga, up to Samoa, across to Tahiti, way south to New Zealand or east to New Caledonia and the Solomons. Even all way up to Hawaii they went, and that’s close on three thousand mile.’
‘Still more amazing,’ Gregory put in, ‘many centuries ago great numbers of them decided to emigrate, and sailed in their canoes through the East Indies, and right across the Indian Ocean to Madagascar.’
‘True enough, sir. That was the Polynesians, though. Them is a fair-skinned lot, and much more knowledgeable, as you might say. But the Fijians built the best canoes. Why, old King Thakobau built one as a present for his pal, King George of Tonga, that was over a hundred foot long, and could carry a hundred warriors. Took seven years to build her, it did. That was way back in the early forties, when the practice still was to christen a new canoe with a human sacrifice. Not content with that, they clubbed a few poor goops to make a nice foundation before they laid down the keel. In this case, a couple of missionary gents called Lyth and Hunt persuaded them to cut out any further bloodletting when the great canoe was launched and not to do the usual on her maiden voyage, which was to collar some unsuspecting feller at each port of call and bust his head open on the prow.
‘But when they got her to Bau, the island from which eastern Fiji was ruled, there was an accident. As the tall mast was lowered for the first time, its heel slipped and it killed a man. Old King Thak took that as a sign that the gods were angry ‘cos the usual sacrifices had not been made before she were delivered to him. He promptly put things right by having twenty-one undesirables hunted out and clubbed to death.’
‘Keeping alive in those days must have been a pretty chancy business for ordinary people,’ Gregory remarked.
‘It was, sir. You’d never believe how cruel them old Chiefs could be. They bought it themselves, though, when they got old and sick. The young blood who was to step into a Chief’s shoes just couldn’t wait till his old man died. It was common practice for them to bury their pas alive.
‘Another thing. Every time they built a bure they had a special drill for keeping the evil spirits away. Into each hole where they meant to put one of them great pared tree-trunks that hold the building upright, they put a living man. Then they lowered the trunk, made the poor bugger embrace it, and shovelled in the earth atop of him, till he couldn’t breathe no more and gave up the ghost.’
Looking across at James, Gregory gave a wicked little smile. ‘I take it that goes for Tujoa, too?’
With a slightly embarrassed look, James returned his smile. ‘I fear so. If anyone decided to do away with my bure they would find in the foundations quite a number of human skeletons. In view of the beliefs of my forefathers, I suppose that’s quite understandable. But it does seem pretty awful that they did not club the poor wretches before stuffing them down into the holes.’
Bob took him up. ‘For this purpose that wouldn’t have seemed right to them, Ratu. All the same, the Melanesians were great boys with their clubs. They had spears and, some of them, bows and arrows. But they used them most times for hunting. Clubs were the thing. They even used them on girls they wanted for their wives. Just a light tap on the head, no more, then the young lady was carried back for you know what in the chap’s bure. But early in the last century the Ratu Kadava Levu introduced a new custom at his capital, Bau Island. He assembled all the shy bachelors and unmarried girls. Made them sit in two lines facing each other. Then each man in turn rolled an orange to a girl he liked the look of. If the lady liked the look of the young man she rolled the orange back. Then, hooray, wedding feast a few days later. If not, nothing doing.’
‘That was a much more civilised way of doing things,’ Gregory commented with a smile.
Bob nodded. ‘Pretty good idea, providing the orange ran to the girl it was aimed at. Later the missionaries took over and the marriage ceremony became a sort of hell-fire warning with “dos” and “don’ts”. Many couples, though, escaped that. Old black-crow missionaries could not be everywhere and young people got tired of waiting. So when a British Resident came round he just waved a Union Jack over the couple and that was O.K. by all.’
Half an hour before the sun was due to set they were approaching Manon’s island. As Bob Wyndhoik brought the cruiser in to the anchorage, Gregory was having pleasant thoughts about Manon. In his mind’s eye he visualised again her unusual but attractive face. Somehow the receding chin and sallow complexion did not seem to matter. Her eyes were magnificent and her laughter infectious. Her body was something to dream about: the firm, rounded breasts, the narrow waist, the perfectly-formed legs below the powerful hips, and that alluring ‘V’ of crisp black curls on the lower part of her flat stomach. He recalled, too, her wild abandon—gasping, crying out endearments and pleas to be ravished more forcefully—each time he had possessed her. The week that lay ahead promised him a renewal of all those pleasures.
The motor cruiser anchored; a small speed boat was lowered from her stern and Gregory and James were taken ashore. On the beach old Joe-Joe met them. He smiled a greeting, but seemed downcast. When Gregory asked for his mistress he replied:
‘Madame not here, Madame not here since ten, eleven days. She in Suva. But she lend house to friends. Frenchmen from Tahiti. They come in dirty old tub of yacht. Two live here all time. Others sail off up to Yasawas wanting to get divers. Last night all come back here. Make much merry. Then, this mornng, bad thing happen. They walk across island to swim from best beach on far side. On the head of one a coconut fall. They bring him back and he is dead.’
Gregory’s brows knit and he asked sharply, ‘What did they do with the body?’
Joe-Joe looked surprised. ‘Why, Master, they bury it. Just beyond garden. Here peoples must bury soon after death. If taken back to Suva, long before they arrive body would have made great stink.’
‘I appreciate that,’ Gregory agreed. ‘But I should like to see the grave. Please take us to it.’
Obediently Joe-Joe led them through the palms and an orange grove to a small clearing. In the centre there was the mound of a newly-made grave. There were flowers on it and from one end rose a roughly-made wooden cross. Gregory leaned forward to look at the cross and saw that no name had been carved on it.
As they walked back towards the house, Joe-Joe offered hospitality. It would, he said, have been Madame’s wish. Gregory thanked him, but declined, saying that they would dine on board and, later that night, return to the mainland.
When they sat down to dinner James looked across at Gregory uneasily. ‘I can’t understand this at all. It is most unlikely that two parties of Colons from Tahiti would have been out there seeking to engage divers at the same time.’
‘I agree, and that Manon should have lent them her house as a headquarters is a very strange coincidence. Of course, as she had heard nothing from us for over ten weeks, she has very good reason to suppose that we are dead. I happen to know that she is extremely hard up. She is wildly extravagant by nature, and the house here cost her a small fortune. So she may have gone in with Lacost and Co. to earn a share in the gold. But there may be some other explanation.’
‘Yes. She may have let the house to them through an agent, not knowing that they were Lacost’s party. Anyhow, this fatal accident means that we have one enemy less.’
‘But which? That’s what I want to know. When they are all asleep in the house I’m going to find out.’
‘What!’ James exclaimed, with a horrified expression. ‘You … you can’t mean that you’re going to desecrate the grave?’
‘I am.’ Gregory’s voice was firm. ‘Surely you don’t imagine that the dead man’s spook is going to jump out and bite me? You can come with me or not, as you wish.’
James shuddered. ‘No, no! Forgive me, but I’ll remain on board and stay up till you return.’
The following two hours seemed to creep by. As usual aboard such boats, the crew sat up on deck, strumming guitars and singing plaintively. James, after nervously flicking through the pages of a magazine for a while, gave up the attempt to read and sat listening to the nightly concert. Gregory, outwardly calm, but far from looking forward to the grim task he had set himself, downed four brandies-and-soda in succession while playing a game of six-pack bezique with Bob Wyndhoik. When the game ended he stood up and said to Bob:
‘Have two of your boys man the boat, will you? I feel like going ashore for a stroll before I turn in.’ With a glance at James, he added, ‘Well, I’ll be seeing you.’ Then they went out on deck.
The boat had not been hove in, so was still alongside. The concert party broke up and Gregory followed the boys down into the boat. As she headed for the shore, phosphorus gleamed brightly in the little waves churned up by the bows. Five minutes later, having told the crew to wait for him, he waded through the shallows.
It was a wonderful night. The sky was free of cloud and a splendid moon dimmed the stars but made the scene almost as bright as in daylight. In places, contrasting with its brilliant illumination, there were patches of dense black shadow thrown by the groups of palm trees and the bures. The air was balmy and, but for the gentle lapping of the tide, it was utterly silent.
No light showed from the big bure. Cautiously, he moved from one patch of shadow to another, until he had made his way round it. The smaller bures behind it were also in darkness. Skirting them, he went to a tin-roofed shed. From his stay there early in February he knew that the gardener kept his implements there. Silently removing a spade from a stock of tools in one corner, he walked with almost noiseless footsteps through the orange grove to the small clearing in the jungle where the body had been buried.
Carefully removing the now wilted flowers and the wooden cross, he began to shovel the loose soil away from that end of it. As he had expected, the grave was quite shallow and the corpse covered with little more than a foot of earth.
The stillness of the night was eerie and the strong moonlight heightened the sense of tension that he felt. Sweat began to break out on his forehead but, setting his teeth, he laboured on until he had uncovered the dead man’s head. Bright as the moonlight was, clots of earth still rendered the corpse’s features unrecognisable. Taking a torch from his pocket, he shone its beam down on to the now mottled face. Then grasping it by the hair, he pulled it up so that he could examine the skull. At the back was a deep depression of crushed broken bone clotted with blood, from which scores of frightened ants scurried. Letting it fall, he shovelled back the earth, replaced the flowers and the cross, threw the spade away into the nearest patch of undergrowth, then walked thoughtfully back to the beach.
On the deck of the cruiser, James was waiting anxiously for him. Bob had already gone to his cabin. As soon as the two boys who had taken Gregory ashore were out of earshot, wide-eyed, the young Ratu uttered the single word:
‘Well?’
‘It was as I expected,’ Gregory replied grimly. ‘De Carvalho.’
‘Oh God!’ James exclaimed. ‘And it’s the full of the moon! The White Witch’s curse!’
‘No. His death was not an accident brought about by occult means. He wasn’t killed by a falling coconut. That would have hit him on the top of the head. The back had been bashed in. He was struck down with a club, by somebody walking behind him.’
‘But why?’ stammered James. ‘Why? You … you said there was no point in their killing him until they had got up the gold.’
Gregory shrugged. ‘I forgot one thing. To get clean away with taking the treasure, Lacost must have a licence. Otherwise the French authorities will hunt him down. If for no other reason, because they will want their ten per cent of the value. If he had murdered de Carvalho in Tujoa, after they had got the gold, it is certain that he would have been suspected. De Carvalho’s having died here in Fiji, apparently from an accident, no-one is going to connect his death with what happens in Tujoa. And now the holder of the licence is dead, Lacost has a free field to apply for one himself. That is the answer. Anyway, this is a stroke of luck for you. With her husband out of the way, Olinda is now all yours.’
For a moment James was silent, then he burst out, ‘Olinda! But don’t you see? As de Carvalho’s widow, she will inherit the licence. Before Lacost can apply for one for himself he will either have to come to terms with her—or kill her. And he must be on his way to her now!’