Chapter 13

As the islanders were going down to the lagoon for their morning swim, the Wombat came into view. Its profile was now modified by the addition of a quad-50 — a four barreled .50-caliber machine gun. As soon as Yani saw the boat, he left the water and ran back to the church clearing to tell Pastor McDuff. The two of them were down on the pier by the time the Patrol boat tied up.

There was no sign of Thompson, who was assumed to be sleeping off last night’s celebration.

As Mr. Wembly and Mr. Gale stood on the deck prepared to climb over the side, the missionary greeted them. They stretched across to the pier and offered a handshake. “Thank the Lord you are here, gentlemen. I was wondering how to get in touch with you. Now, God in His infinite wisdom has brought you to me.”

“Didn’t Jeremy tell you we were coming? We spoke to him on the wireless yesterday,” Wembly said. “Apparently there are a number of problems with the natives according to him. And we have some very important news and changes of concern to both of you — and all of us, for that matter.”

“I’m afraid he and I do not engage in civil conversations, Mr. Wembly. Our views of the world and the natives on the island are at opposite ends of the spectrum,” McDuff told him.

“Oh?” said Wembly, pretending not to know. “Would you care to tell us about it?”

“I’m not one for telling tales out of school, but I don’t know what else to do about it.”

He was invited aboard the Wombat and climbed gingerly over the railing. At the same time, a large, muscular native with a shaved head and features similar to Yani’s climbed in the opposite direction. He was wearing a patrol uniform without any insignia, or markings. He smiled and said, “Good morning, sir. I’d like to speak to your Churchboy if you don’t mind,” in perfect English with an Australian accent.

“Good morning to you,” McDuff answered. “Go right ahead,” he said as the man headed toward Yani, standing a few yards away.

“Who is that?” the missionary asked, amazed at hearing a black man speak English.

“He is our head Policeboy, Percy. I’ll tell you about him later. Right now he wants to talk your boy ... What’s his name?”

“Yani.”

“Yes, Yani. I remember now,” Wembly said. “By the way, remember those pirates that kidnapped him? They hanged the lot of them back in Sydney.”

The minister did not like to hear of any violence, even of the legal variety. He had hoped they would have put them in jail and persuaded them to change their lives.

The three men made themselves comfortable in the large living room-like main cabin.

“Well, how are you making out with your Christianizing program,” Gale said. “Do you have any converts?”

“I think I am making great headway with Yani, but I have run into some snags with the local population, thanks to Mr. Thompson.”

“What kind of snags?” Gale asked.

“I hardly know where to begin. He doesn’t pay them. He takes sexual advantage of the women. He shot one of the men yesterday, and last night … well, you wouldn’t believe last night,” he said shaking his head.

They listened to Dr. McDuff’s tale of debauchery and dishonor without indicating how they felt about the matter. Then, at length Wembly said, “I think I had best go up to the Big House and talk to Mr. Thompson. We have a number of things to discuss in addition to the items you just described.

“Why don’t you stay here and talk with Mr. Gale, Doctor. I propose we all have lunch on board the Wombat at mid-day. You may have noticed our increased armaments,” he said, pointing to the anti-aircraft guns. “I will explain the wartime changes that are about to descend upon us.”

***

Knowing what things white men missed most in the islands, Mr. Gale poured Dr. McDuff a tall glass of ice water. Had he been a drinker, he would have added a tumbler of Scotch. “We carry enough fresh water on the Wombat for you to take a shower, if you wish, Doctor.”

“You can’t imagine what that would mean to me, Mr. Gale,” he said. “The endless stickiness that comes from bathing in the ocean is getting to be a bit much. Sometimes I just go out and stand in the rain.”

“Believe me, I know,” Gale said. “I was a cadet for six months on an island much like Christ’s Despair. This one is just a little worse than the rest.”

“I never did find out how it got it’s name,” McDuff said. “I wanted to ask Thompson, but our conversations have always been antagonistic. Do you know?”

“Some of it. It’s not pretty. I’m not sure you want to know,” he said in a way that made it all the more tantalizing.

“How am I to deal with the problems if I don’t know what they are?” he argued.

Gale hesitated, thinking it over, then said. “The Germans brought the first missionaries here in 1900, when they got into the copra business. They were Lutherans. They did things in a big way. They didn’t just send one man, like Thompson. They sent whole families to the islands. The managers brought their families. The German officials brought their families. So, naturally, the missionaries brought their families.”

“That sounds like a strong basic policy for colonization,” McDuff said. “How were they received by the natives?”

“Well, considering how they took over the island, they weren’t very welcome.”

“Why was that? What did they do?”

“They armed about 75 natives — mercenaries — from one of the other islands who were their traditional enemies. They gave them rifles, and paid them with liquor and tobacco and sent them in to shoot everyone they could — with special instructions to kill everyone under ten years of age. They just wanted adult males to work on the copra plantations.”

“I can’t believe that!” McDuff said. “No one could be so heartless.”

“I think it’s a piece of verifiable history, Doctor. It didn’t make the Krauts too popular with the natives. You can be sure of that. They burned off much of the vegetation, so they could plant their coconut palms. They didn’t grow here naturally. Practically all the trees you see now are left from the first plantation. I don’t think Thompson has planted a single tree since he took over a few years ago.”

“He told me that, but I didn’t believe him,” McDuff admitted grudgingly. ”Don’t the indigenous people own the land?”

“Yes, but it is standard practice to own the individual coconut trees, rather than the ground they grow on. It’s possible to own a plot of land, but not have the rights to any fruit from the trees.

“Well anyway, burning the jungle left the people in a famine situation. They were starving. The island split up into groups, and they reverted to cannibalism. They were attacking each other’s villages and cooking the victims. It was only a matter of time before they decided to add white meat to their diet.

“They say that in one week, at the height of the frenzy, every German man, woman and child was slaughtered and eaten.”

Dr. McDuff made a face. “I have read about that sort of thing in a book I have, but I still find it difficult to accept it as really happening.”

Gale was beginning to enjoy watching the look of horror and disbelief on the missionary’s face, and decided to administer the coup de grace. “Have you noticed that there aren’t any kids among the villagers between the ages of five and ten?”

“Now that you mention it, I think you are right,” he said. “Plague? Measles? What did them in?”

“Supposedly about ten years ago, they suddenly developed a taste for ‘baby-meat’ according to one of your predecessors. That’s why there’s such a gap in the ages of the kids. Mothers began to eat their own newborn children, sharing them with their sisters...”

“Stop it!” McDuff yelled. “I don’t want to hear any more. This is revolting. I can’t believe it ... I don’t want to believe it!”

“I warned you,” Gale said. “I’m sorry if I have upset you. That’s why no one would take a missionary post on the island for the past five years, until you came along. There’s a rumor that the last one killed himself at the hospital.”

The Boston-bred minister was sweating profusely. He looked like he was going to be ill. “I’d like to take you up on that shower now, if you don’t mind Mr. Gale,” he said.

***

The four men sat around a dinner table in the main cabin, while a Papuan cook and mess steward served them a baked fish dinner that might be found in a better Sydney restaurant. Dr. McDuff had recovered from his encounter with the truth about the island, and was reveling in the civilized atmosphere of the meal. If he overdid anything, it was the ice water.

Wembly had talked with Thompson briefly about his behavior with the natives. He explained it all away by telling how he had to gain their confidence through participation in their feasts. As far as the shooting was concerned, the Patrol Officer was fully aware of the policy of not backing down in any confrontation with a native. He simply shot him in the foot to keep him under control.

As they ate, Senior Patrol Officer Wembly conducted his promised briefing on what was going on in the larger world. “As you are well aware, we are at war with Germany in Europe, and I fear things are not going well. I have brought you some newspapers that will fill you in on that element of world history. As we told Jeremy on the wireless yesterday, Hitler has given his navy orders to regard all British merchant ships as warships. In simple terms, it gives them license to sink our freighters whether they are armed or not.

“I sincerely doubt that there are any German Navy ships in our waters, but what does concern me is what the Japs are up to. They have officially joined the Axis powers, along with Italy. The Japs may be planning to adopt the same policy of sinking unarmed freighters, so we are on alert. We know they have a large fleet of submarines, and they are probably cruising in the vicinity.”

Thompson asked, “Do you think there is any chance of their invading New Guinea or Australia?”

“The Japs have already invaded Indo-China,” Gale said. Then, indulging in his morbid fascination for ghastly events added, “I hear that there are so many Jap casualties that they are actually cutting off the right hands of the corpses to aid in later identification of bodies.”

Wembly gave him a chilling look. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Gale, we are eating our lunch.”

“Sorry, sir,” he said, looking down at his fish.

“British Forces have already abandoned Shanghai to the Japs,” Wembly said. “But enough of the war news. What you gentlemen need is to be brought up to date on the changes in the administration of your island.”

Dr. McDuff looked alert. “What changes are those?” he asked.

“It is vital to the war effort that we maximize the production of copra to strengthen our economy. There is even the chance that the Japanese might make a move to take over the islands that produce it. But more about that later.

“Dr. McDuff, one of the key problems we have had with the copra plantations on the part of the natives has been their lack of interest in working on them. We had hoped that Christianizing them would awaken their latent ‘work ethic.’”

“Latent!” Thompson laughed. “That implies that there once was one and it is only asleep. These people are born retired. They won’t do anything more than they need to do to stay alive.”

“Well, we think we have the solution,” Wembly said.

“What might that be?” McDuff asked earnestly.

“Taxes,” Wembly announced.

Both Thompson and McDuff were wide-eyed. “Taxes?” they each said in turn.

“How terribly British,” Gale wise-cracked.

“How are taxes going to make those lazy bastards get their arses up into the coconut trees?” the plantation manager said.

“Each adult male over the age of puberty will be assessed a head tax of five pounds a year. It must be paid in Australian currency — no pigs, no taro, no shells and no dog teeth. The only way they can get money is to work on the plantation. You will pay them five pounds for six months of work.”

“Are you serious about this?” the missionary asked.

“Couldn’t be more,” Wembly said. “The plan is being introduced on all Crown-controlled islands throughout the South Pacific — effective immediately.”

“That’s virtual slavery,” McDuff said.

“Dr. McDuff, need I remind you that you are an American and are here at the convenience of His Majesty’s Government. Strictly speaking, your opinion is neither sought nor noted in this matter. It is a matter under the jurisdiction of the Exchequer. As a foreign national I am simply informing you of our laws,” came the frosty response.

“How is this plan going to be implemented?” Thompson asked. “Are you going to collect the taxes when you get here every couple months?”

Wembly smiled a wicked smile. “Under the Wartime Powers Act you are hereby appointed Acting Governor of the island known as Christ’s Despair. The salary for that position to be announced at a later date.”

Thompson’s face reflected mixed emotions. The announcement took him by complete surprise. He had just been awarded absolute power over this dismal place, and no longer had to put up with the Reverend McDuff’s criticisms. But at the same time he just inherited a bureaucracy he had no idea how to manage.

The missionary was bewildered. He hardly knew what to expect. He looked to the Patrol as a source of justice, and they had just installed his main antagonist as Supreme Ruler.

“There’s more,” Wembly said. “We still have not resolved this business of arming the natives.”

“Arming the natives?” McDuff asked.

“Yes. I saw no less than four men with machetes swinging them recklessly on the beach when I went ashore earlier. I also noticed that there is an abundance of knives and hatchets.”

Thompson spoke up before the minister could say anything. “The good Pastor, here, gave them out at last night’s feast as inducements to come to his prayer meetings. I’ve been using them as payment for work performed, myself. However, Mr. McDuff had a little too much kava last night and gave everything away before he fell asleep at the dinner table.”

“See here,” McDuff said sharply. “You know you drugged me and gave away my possessions without my being able to do anything about it.”

“I suggest you take it up with the island’s governor,” Thompson grinned.

“Gentlemen, if you please. There is no point in arguing about this now. I, for one, would not want to try to recover any of those items from one of the men. But all is not lost. As I pointed out earlier, we may have a possible Japanese invasion to contend with at some time in the future. Providing the natives don’t use the machetes on you, it may be to our advantage for them to be able to defend their island from the Japs. I suggest you think about that for a bit.”