Chapter 40

There was no one on the beach when the sun came up.

Yani stood atop the drop-door and strained his eyes for signs of people hiding among the trees, but there was no one. McDuff joined him and said, “You really didn’t think they were going to come down here after last night’s show, did you?”

“Nobody swim. They afraid Hevehe still in water.”

“My guess is that they are afraid of Kilibob. Even I had my moments with all the sound effects, and...”

“Busby Berkeley lives!” said a voice to their rear. “I tell you I am missing my calling. Hollywood needs me,” John Bartlett laughed.

“I have to hand it to you, John. That was Broadway at its best.” He rubbed his scraped wrists as he spoke. “And I want to thank you again for saving my life. I really think they would have killed me if you hadn’t come to the rescue.”

“That’s what white hats are for,“ he said. He was still wearing the Annapolis Middy’s cap. “How’s your head?”

“We must drop Admiral Bartlett a thank you note. I enjoyed that Old Grand Dad. I’m afraid I am undergoing a religious revision — I’m beginning to understand why some people drink.”

“The thank you note should really go to the guy who owns this fatigue shirt,” he said pointing to the decorations on the sleeve. John was wearing a Marine Sergeant’s fatigue shirt with a corpsman’s red cross on the sleeve. “He was the one who bought the booze from some swabees on the Snitkin. Most of the bottles broke when they hit the deck during all the excitement.”

He looked at the empty beach. “Well, where is everybody?”

Yani climbed down from the door and got on to the ladder. “I go tell Blackfella O.K. to come down. We give everybody tinkens. They very hungry now. No water on island. They find coconuts.”

“Go and tell them to come down, Yani,” McDuff said. “John and I will open the boxes and get ready for them.”

With that, the young shaman went to pursue his cultural responsibilities.

“How long can they last on coconuts?” John asked.

“No problem. It rains here just about every afternoon,” the minister told him. “They have ways of collecting the rainwater as it runs off the trees. It’s amazing the way they adapt to nature. You and I would die in no time if we were left alone here — I almost did on the other island.”

“What happened?”

“Yani saved my life,” he said, and as they worked, he filled in the details he had omitted the day before.

John lowered the door and the two Americans began cutting open cartons. Bartlett described how he visualized forming a long line of natives, and handing them each two cans as they passed.

McDuff laughed. “Boy, oh boy. Have you got a surprise coming.”

“How’s that?” John said.

“People do not get on line in this part of the world, John. The best thing we can do is open as many cases as we can ... stack them on the ramp ... and get out of the way.”

“You think they’ll just grab?”

“Our biggest job will be to keep them from swarming over this boat like a bunch of locusts. Yani has promised them that John Frum would bring them enough food that they will never have to plant another garden as long as they live.”

John started to laugh, until it almost became a howl.

“What’s so funny,” McDuff asked.

“Wait till they find out what’s in some of these cans.” He found a tin of Beef In Gravy, and held it up. “They’ll probably think this stuff is great, but the G.I.s call it ‘monkey meat.’ It’s the stringiest cut of beef the government could buy. But that’s O.K. What are they going to think of tuna and noodle casserole? You haven’t lived until you’ve had the government’s version of beef stew — 80% potatoes ... 15% carrots and 5% gravy.”

McDuff joined in chuckling, and said “John, once you have lived on one of these islands for three months you will think those are gourmet meals!”

***

The people retreated from Yani as he came into the camp clearing. His reputation as a shaman, and perhaps more accurately as a friend of Kilibob and John Frum, had been firmly established. None of the elders challenged his authority after the terrible end to which Aboo had come the night before.

He mounted a rock and motioned the people to come forward. “John Frum wishes to be our friend. He has told me to invite everyone to come down to the beach. The behavior of Aboo and his friends will be forgotten.”

“Aboo is dead,” one of the elders said. “We have cast his body into the sea to please the Hevehe. We wish to be friends of John Frum. He is stronger than the Hevehe.”

“John Frum has come because Yani has called him. He is my friend. He comes from the island of Boston, like Big Man Duff. He is a stronger bis than Big Man Duff. They are friends. They do not choose to speak to you in our language. They ask me to tell you what they say.”

There were no dissenters.

“Everybody will get a tinken for each hand. Take them to the place of the old village. I will teach you to open the tinkens with American magic called G.I. canopener.” He showed them the tiny device that hung next to his cross on a string.

He jumped down from the rock and began his descent to the beach and the great gifts from John Frum had brought from God in Heaven.

A few minutes later they appeared on the beach, chanting on cue “John Frum, he come! John Frum, he come.”

***

McDuff had an idea before the crowd came down from the mountain. “John, I think we are going to have to bring you down to earth. Last night, in the eyes of these people you were a god. You were really Kilibob. You sure as heck didn’t look like any American sailor I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ve been told that,” he smiled.

“What I mean is, you won’t be able to function with these people on a day to day basis if they think you are Kilibob.”

“So? What do I do?” John said.

“Get rid of the white officer’s cap. Just wear the Sergeant’s shirt. They’ll be surprised to find out that you are a Black man like they are. My guess is that they’ll be more kindly disposed to you as a result.”

He tossed the hat up on the narrow walkway. “What next? Should I shake hands with them?”

“Good point.” McDuff reflected on it. “I’ll tell you what. Suppose you just stand on the deck outside the bridge and wave to them as they come for their tinkens.”

“Tinkens?”

“Pidgin. Comes from ‘tin cans’.”

While they were talking the column of Blackfellas started to come onto the beach. John Bartlett swung up on a nearby railing. “You know them better than me, Doctor. I’ll take your advice and bless them from afar.”

***

Yani came out to the landing craft alone to confer with John and Dr. McDuff, and to see if everything was ready. They talked about the situation, and he agreed with the idea that John Frum should stay on the upper deck for now.

When he signaled the crowd to wade out to the boat, they charged forward as predicted. Yani stood at the open door with his hands raised to stop the rush. Pointing to the figure on the upper deck he said, “This is my friend, John Frum. He brings much cargo for the Blackfella on Chase Island. If anybody makes him angry, he will call Kilibob to come back.”

There was a shudder among the group. For those not on the beach, the events of the night before had been magnified in the retelling. Kilibob had become a doomsday figure.

“Now John Frum will live among us as friend. He says you can take one tinken for each hand. We will open them back in village.” He gave a nod and there was a frantic scramble of shoving and grabbing. No one knew what he was getting, so they took the first thing that their hands touched. When all the men had theirs, the women and children squabbled over their portions. There was no need for the minor riot — it would be a long time before they could use up all the boxes on the boat.

When Pee-wee, the ten year old, and his friends continued to hang around the open door, even after everyone had gone back to the shore, Yani had an idea. He showed the children how to open the cans with the G.I. can-openers. It was no problem for them, the kids caught on immediately. Each case had several silver colored cans without labels. Yani had discovered that these all contained fruit cocktail. They were an immediate hit. He let them open one can each and consume the contents. Then he told them he would give them each three cans of fruit salad if they went to the village and opened the C-rations for the adults. The deal was struck and a problem was solved.