‘He must give in; he must!’ James cried, as Gregory sat back. ‘He’ll be ruined if he doesn’t. But why are you signing the telegram “Dantés”?’
‘Oh, that’s because I can’t use my own name. You and I have become notorious in Noumea; so, if I did, everyone there through whose hands the message passed would know that we are in Tujoa. Then, like it or not, Ribaud would be forced to do his utmost to recapture us. Dantés was the hero of Dumas Père’s famous novel The Count of Monte Cristo. He was imprisoned on an island, in the Château d’If, and his getting away from it is the best-known escape story in all French literature. The name is by no means an uncommon one, so it won’t ring a bell with anyone on Ribaud’s staff, but it will with him.’
The young Ratu’s eyes showed schoolboy hero-worship. ‘What a man you are!’ he exclaimed after a moment. ‘No wonder you succeeded in fooling Himmler and the Gestapo all through the war. This is absolutely brilliant. The telegram gives nothing away to anyone who may read it. But to Ribaud its meaning will be as clear as crystal. He’s got to let me go or be dismissed with ignominy as a corrupt official.’
‘I hope you are right,’ Gregory replied soberly. ‘But we can’t count our chickens yet. Ribaud is both a tough egg and an honest man. He may decide to face the music. You see, he just might get himself in the clear if he told the truth and brought Fournier and Joubert to witness that all the time his real intentions had been to return us to the Russians.’
‘Even then it would be difficult to laugh off that big bribe.’
‘Yes. It’s that on which I am counting. So I want to send another telegram, when we send this, to my bank in New York. It will be an instruction, verified by a code word that only they and I know, to pay that four thousand into Ribaud’s bank with the least possible delay, and to inform him by highest priority cable that it has been paid in.’
‘Then you really mean to send the money?’
‘Certainly. When he learns that it has actually been paid in that may prove the deciding factor.’
‘It is a lot of money. And you are in no great danger, so you are really paying it out to save me. I must try to pay you back later on.’
‘You’ll do nothing of the sort,’ Gregory replied sharply. ‘It is my good fortune that my splendid old patron looked on me as a son and left me the greater part of his millions. The greatest pleasure money can bring is to be able to give help and pleasure to those one loves. And, dear James, I’ve become quite fond of you. In fact, I’d have liked to have you for a son. But for God’s sake don’t count on this. Ribaud is as clever as I am. Perhaps cleverer. He may pull a fast one on us yet. To know where we stand we’ll have to wait until maybe nearly six o’clock.’
Pausing for a moment, Gregory yawned, then he went on, ‘We must get those two telegrams off at once, and hope that the one to Ribaud will reach him before he has committed himself in any way—such as sending a signal to your Resident here to have us arrested. Now I’m for bed. The past twelve hours would have proved a pretty severe strain on any chap of my age. And I’m no exception.’
James shook his head. ‘I’m sorry; terribly sorry. But I must ask you to stick it out for another few hours. Now that I have returned to Tujoa, I cannot possibly avoid the official ceremony of welcome. It is timed for eleven o’clock. My Council of Elders will assemble in our Meeting House to renew their homage. The fact that you have arrived here with me as my guest cannot possibly be disguised. They will wish to welcome you, too, and to refuse their formal welcome would be looked on as terribly discourteous. Please Father, if I may call you so, do not refuse me in this.’
Gregory smiled wryly. ‘To have to stay up when they want to go to bed is the sort of price Princes must pay for being Princes. Of course I understand, my son. And I am entirely at your disposal. I’ll go to my room now, and anyhow snatch an hour or two of sleep. Have me called a quarter of an hour before we have to start, and I shall be honoured to attend you.’
At a quarter to eleven Gregory rejoined James in the main bure. The young Ratu was now wearing his ceremonial robes. Except for a collar of thin ivory tusks, he was naked to the waist, round which was bound an elaborately-patterned sash of tapa cloth. Over his sulu there were concertina-like strips of brightly-coloured material, from his upper arms there hung a long cloak, and round his ankles there were fringes of coconut fibre; his feet were bare.
Gregory was congratulating him on his striking appearance when another man joined them. He was about thirty, as tall as James, with a splendid figure and noble features. When he had made his obeisance James introduced them. ‘This is Aleamotu’a, my friend and herald; and this is Mr. Sallust, with whom my heart is one, for he has brought me safely through many perils.’
From that of a subservient courtier, Aleamotu’a’s manner changed at once to that of an equal. Smiling, he shook Gregory firmly by the hand and said in excellent English, ‘I am happy to meet you, Mr. Sallust. That you have served my Prince so well places every Nakapoan in your debt. And should the occasion arise I claim the right to be the first to honour that obligation.’
Gregory returned his smile. The Ratu makes too much of what I have done, and he omits to tell you that he has twice saved my life; so it is I who am the debtor.’
Leaving the bure, they walked down through the garden until they reached another plateau situated just above the town. In the centre stood the Meeting House, a large, open-sided, palm-thatched building. On both sides of the approach to it several hundred Tujoans were seated: the men in front, the women behind, all completely silent. Holding himself very erect and with a firm step, James strode forward, his hands clasped behind his back. Gregory and Aleamotu’a dropped to the rear. As though at a given signal the whole crowd suddenly gave voice, beginning with a low murmur and rising to a fierce, tremendous shout. It was the tama greeting, given only as a sign of allegiance to Paramount Chiefs.
Inside the Meeting House the Council of Elders were seated cross-legged round the walls. At the far end two chairs had been placed for James and Gregory. When they entered the house the Elders broke into a low chant of welcome; then, as the newcomers took their seats, silence fell and the men who were to play the principal parts in the ceremony came forward to make obeisance.
The ceremony began with the presentation of three whale teeth, each by a different official, who made a short speech. On accepting the teeth, James handed them to Aleamotu’a, who was standing beside him. There followed the preparations for the age-old communion rite. This was the same as that which Gregory had witnessed while staying with Manon on her island, but more elaborate. The tapa mats that carpeted the floor were removed from a space in front of the Ratu and in the clearing the tanoa bowl—with its attached string of cowrie shells—in which the yaggona drink was to be mixed, set down. In the bowl was already heaped the powdered root and on it lay a bundle of hibiscus fibre for straining the liquid. Behind the man who was to mix the drink crouched a row of others, clad in grass skirts and with blackened faces, who were to act as cup-bearers. Two warriors then appeared, carrying over their shoulders long, thick tubes of bamboo. At a sign from the yaggona-maker they removed plugs from the top of the bamboos, tipped them up and poured into the bowl two streams of clear water. With intense concentration the mixer went to work, dipping and raising his hands rhythmically. There came a single wailing cry, then all the Elders joined in a melancholy chant punctuated by perfectly timed hand-clapping.
Impressed as Gregory was with the solemnity of the ritual, half his mind was given to wondering how Ribaud would react to the ‘Dantés’ telegram. Yet as he glanced about him he felt sure that no-one else present was giving a single thought to anything other than the mystic yaggona mixing.
Despite the danger in which James still stood, it appeared quite certain that he was not. With grave attention his gaze was fixed on the bowl and his handsome face had taken on a spiritual quality. Clearly he was completely at peace, his body unmoving but relaxed, his mind elevated above all mundane matters. The Elders too, intensely dignified, although many of them were wearing worn European jackets only partially hidden by the leis of sweet-scented leaves round their necks, sat utterly still, their eyes riveted on the preparation of the sacred brew.
At length the mixing was completed. The bundle of hibiscus fibre was thrown aside, the chanting stopped, a silence fell, unbroken even by the rustle of a grass skirt. The premier cup-bearer came forward and received with both hands the first coconut half-shell of yaggona. Approaching the Ratu, he held the cup with arms fully extended and lowered his body until his knees were doubled under him. The low chant began again. The man poured the drink into James’ own beautifully ornamented cup, then squatted before him. Lifting the cup, James drained it in one gulp, then threw it back towards the yaggona bowl. ‘Matha! Matha!’ shouted the assembly, clapping their cupped hands three times in rhythm.
The Ratu was offered, and accepted, a second cup. James received his portion next, then Aleamotu’a and afterwards, in order of rank, everyone else in the assembly. As each draught went down, everyone clapped three times, then the drinker clapped three times in response.
The atmosphere of tension continued until the last cupful had been drained, then a change took place. Everyone continued to behave with decorum, but became at ease as, with obvious appreciation of good things to come, they watched the food for the feast being carried in. There were roast sucking pigs, yams and breadfruit, two turtles and scores of chickens, baskets of mangoes, pawpaws, big tangerines and other fruit. A wizened Elder made a speech apologising for the poorness of the fare, to which Aleamotu’a replied on the Ratu’s behalf praising its quality and abundance.
It would have been against protocol for the Ratu to remain. A generous portion of the best food was set aside to be taken up to his bure. Walking slowly and with great dignity between the rows of kneeling Elders, he took his departure, followed by Gregory and Aleamotu’a.
The ceremony had lasted just over an hour; so when they came out from the shade of the Meeting House the midday sun blazed down upon them from almost directly overhead. Reluctantly Gregory faced the stiff walk uphill back to the bure, and before he had taken fifty paces he had broken out into a sweat. Glancing over his shoulder to speak to him James noticed it, halted and spoke to two big warriors who were kneeling respectfully beside the path until he had passed. They came grinning to their feet and advanced on Gregory as James said to him:
‘My poor friend, you are not conditioned to exert yourself in this heat. These two men will carry you.’
‘No; no!’ Gregory protested. ‘Although I may look on the thin side, I weigh a good twelve stone.’
‘Don’t worry,’ came the airy reply. ‘Some of our Nakapoan beauties weigh nearly as much as that, and they are always carried from the boats to the shore. These men will take it in turns and find it no hardship. Later they will beat their broad chests and tell their families with pride how they were given the honour of carrying their Ratu’s friend up to the bure.’
Feeling rather a fool, Gregory submitted to being picked up like a baby, but he was relieved at not having to trudge up the steep hill. When he had been safely deposited at the top, both men, without a trace of shyness, extended hands for him to shake, then gave him friendly pats on the shoulder.
Back in his room he stripped, then decided that in such surroundings there was, after all, something to be said for a shower. Stepping into the bath, he turned on the spray above it and allowed the needles of cold water to reinvigorate his tired limbs. Nevertheless, within ten minutes of his having dried himself and lain down on his bed, he was fast asleep.
At five o’clock he was still sound asleep when James came in. The dignified calm that the young Ratu had shown earlier in the day had now deserted him. With unconcealed anxiety he said:
‘I have just been informed that the Resident intends to call on me here at six o’clock. Do you think that means that he has received an order to have me arrested?’
Gregory yawned and knuckled the sleep from his eyes. ‘It is quite possible. But you told me this morning that your people would not let you be arrested. Has nothing come in from Ribaud?’
‘No. I sent orders to the telegraph operator that should any communication come in for Dantés it should be sent up to me immediately by runner. But no message has so far arrived. It looks as though Ribaud has decided to ignore your threat and do his best to get us.’
‘It’s early yet to be sure of that. As you have been away for two months, the Resident may be coming to see you on some other matter. Anyhow, if he does cut up rough, you can tell him to go to hell. Before troops can be flown in and deployed we should still have plenty of time to get out to another island.’
Reluctantly Gregory got up and dressed. James took him out to the swimming pool and fortified him with a long drink of well-iced passion-fruit juice laced with rum. Then they awaited with considerable anxiety the arrival of the Resident.
A little after six o’clock they caught the sound of the labouring engine of an evidently elderly car coming up the steep drive. Five minutes later Kalabo led Commandant El-bœuf round from the front of the bure. He was a small man, bronzed from living for many years in the tropics. His hair was white, he had a drooping, grey moustache and in his right hand held a thick stick, upon which he leaned heavily as he advanced towards them.
Appropriate greetings followed. The Commandant was happy to accept a neat cognac—in a tumbler, he suggested, because one could better appreciate the bouquet. When he had been furnished with a triple ration they settled down to talk—not of any serious matters, but whether James had enjoyed his visit to Noumea, of the price of copra, of the prospects of the yam crop, and of the weather.
At length, with apparent casualness, the elderly Frenchman asked, ‘Tell me, Ratu. In accordance with ancient custom, you are permitted to retain a private body-guard of fifty warriors. In the event of serious trouble here you are under obligation to order them to support my small force of gendarmes. But say it was simply a matter of enforcing law and order, so that the administration of justice could be carried out in peaceful conditions, would you be prepared to use them in that way or, if the matter in question was against your interests, order them to ignore the obligation to assist my men?’
This, thought Gregory, is it; for he took the question really to mean—should an attempt be made to arrest James, would he submit and order his body-guard to quell a rising of the townsfolk to protect their Ratu, or use his men to defy the gendarmes? Although James’ spy in the telegraph office had failed to inform them of it, a signal must have come in. Possibly it had been graded ‘Top Secret and Personal to the Resident’. Anyway, it looked as though, whatever the risk to himself, Ribaud meant to get them if he could.
James evidently thought the same, for he replied with caution, ‘Commandant, it all depends on the circumstances in which you requested the assistance of my warriors. Perhaps you would enlighten me further by putting a hypothetical case.’
At that moment Kalabo arrived at James’ elbow with a buff envelope on a salver. With a murmured ‘Excuse me, please’, the Ratu tore the envelope open, read the flimsy it contained, then passed it to Gregory. The telegram was addressed to Dantés and read:
Replacements on way. Request return compatriots earliest. For security reasons instruct communicate with no-one and report direct to me. Grateful for execution of promise. Regard transaction as completed. Unnecessary inform Lorraine. Ribaud.
Gregory smiled across at James. After all, the shrewd Ribaud had decided to accept the handsome bribe rather than risk an ignominious end to his career. They had won, and had no more to fear from James’ brainstorm act of having thrown de Carvalho out of the window.
The Commandant remarked, ‘Good news, I see,’ then went on, ‘This is no hypothetical case, but trouble that we have been faced with during your absence, Ratu, which may occur again. It concerns the gold that is said to lie in the wrecked Reina Maria Amalia. Ten or twelve days ago a party of ex-Colons from Algeria arrived here, in an old tub named the Pigalle. They were headed by a man named Pierre Lacost. Ahead of them they had sent a professional diver, who had been here for several weeks and brought with him salvaging apparatus, so it was clear to me that they intended to attempt to get the gold up from the wreck.’
Under his heavy eyelids the Commandant gave a swift glance at James:
‘As I informed you, Ratu, when you were here towards the end of January, for a salvaging operation a licence is required. Long before Lacost arrived here I had been notified by my superiors in Noumea that such a licence had been granted to the Brazilian millionaire Mauá de Carvalho. I therefore went out in my launch to the wreck and ordered Lacost to take his apparatus back to harbour.
‘He proved extremely truculent. He and his companions were armed and they defied me. Naturally, I was loath to expose my gendarmes to a gun battle. But the following day he did bring his gear back to harbour. Apparently his visit to the wreck had been only for his professional diver to carry out a reconnaissance. As I understand it, one man could not possibly remove the heavy beams in the wreck that obstruct the passage leading to the place where the treasure is believed to be. Lacost had counted on the assistance of a dozen local Tujoa divers for this, but they all refused their services. Why, I do not know; but without such help he was forced to suspend his operations. Even so, he and his friends continued to linger on here, hoping, I suppose, to persuade our divers to change their minds.
‘Soon after Lacost’s arrival de Carvalho turned up here in his yacht. He brought no salvaging equipment, but he also had with him a professional deep-sea diver. They went out twice to the site of the wreck, then, for some reason unknown, sailed away again. By then Lacost seems to have abandoned any hope of securing divers here and also sailed away, but he left his salvaging equipment.
‘Now, Ratu, this is what I wish to know. I am told that when Lacost left he intended to go to Fiji. It seems probable to me that his object is to collect divers there and bring them here. Should he succeed and, with them, defy my authority as an administrator of the law to protect the rights assigned to de Carvalho by the French Government, would you be willing to order your body-guard to support my gendarmes in, if necessary, using weapons to drive off these Colons? I ask this because I am aware of your own interest in the treasure, and, forgive me, but it had occurred to me that, as you failed to secure a licence, you might be employing Lacost to get the treasure for you.’
Gregory and James had difficulty in keeping straight faces. It was a most amusing twist in events that with legal backing they should be asked to prevent their most dangerous rival from getting at the treasure by openly attacking him.
James bowed gravely to the Commandant. ‘Monsieur, you may rely on my full co-operation should a situation such as you fear come about. I would be happy to lead my warriors in person to prevent this man Lacost from illegally getting away with the gold. And now, please, permit your glass to be refreshed a little.’
With barely-concealed eagerness Commandant Elbœuf held out his tumbler to the attendant Kalabo. It was returned to him nearly full. Sipping happily, he said to James, ‘It is a treat to come here, Ratu. Our government is not over-generous to anciens de la première guerre like myself, and even in the islands good French cognac is expensive for those who have ill-lined pockets.’
They talked on for a while until the old man had finished his brandy. A little unsteadily, he was then escorted by Kalabo back to his ancient car. As he disappeared from view, Gregory said to James:
‘Thank God it worked. We have nothing further to fear from Ribaud now. As for old Elbœuf, he did his job none too badly; but if when we start on salvaging the gold he tries to make trouble I don’t think we’ll have much difficulty in dealing with him.’
After a moment he went on, ‘Now about Ribaud’s telegram. An aircraft bringing our belongings can be expected to land here within a few hours, and we don’t want its crew to ask Fournier and Joubert what they are doing in Tujoa; so it would be best to get them off on their way back to Noumea as soon as possible.’
James nodded. ‘I will arrange all that. I’ll send Aleamotu’a down to see to it. He is fluent in French as well as English. I’ll give him Ribaud’s telegram so that he can show it to our prisoners and impress on them that they must keep their mouths shut until they report to the General. He will also arrange for a meal to be ready for the crew of the aircraft that brings in our baggage, and see them off on their return journey. Now, as we had no lunch, we had better have a snack; then get to bed.’
Gregory considered for a moment, then asked to see the telegram again. Having re-read it, he nodded. ‘Yes, I think that should be all right. To prevent them from talking to anyone before they see Ribaud they must be shown this message. They will realise, of course, that he has now agreed to connive at our escape. But that can’t be helped. They would tumble to that, anyhow, when he takes no further steps to get us. And he is clever enough to deal with that. He will probably tell them more or less the truth—that we’ve promised to keep mum about the Russians, so as a matter of high policy he thought it better to do a deal.’
Three-quarters of an hour later they were both in bed and asleep.
In the morning Aleamotu’a reported. Fournier and Joubert had been in poor shape, as for some fourteen hours the whole of their bodies had been exposed to mosquitoes and they were half-crazy from scores of bites. Cursing, but anxious to get away as soon as possible, they had flown off in their refuelled aircraft about eight o’clock. The plane from Noumea had not come in until after midnight. The crew of two had taken an hour for rest and refreshment, then cheerfully set out on their return journey. With him Aleamotou’a brought the baggage which Gregory and James had been forced to leave behind in Noumea two months before. On checking it through, they were pleased to find nothing missing.
After they had breakfasted they drove in James’ jeep down to the town. It consisted of only one main street, parallel to the waterfront, with a few side-streets running inland from it. There were only half a dozen brick buildings; the others were of wood, the larger ones having arcades in front to shade the sidewalk, the roofs of the arcades being used as balconies. In the side-streets the buildings were mainly one-storey, their occupants sweltering under corrugated-iron roofs. At one end of the town there was an open-air market, protected from the sun by a thick thatch of palm leaves.
The shops were all run by sleek-looking Indians, many of the older ones wearing turbans, but the majority displaying their straight, black hair neatly oiled and arranged in contrast to the frizzy heads of the natives. The market, on the other hand, was the province of the Nakapoans. In addition to meat, fish, a wonderful variety of fruit, yams, dalo, kasava and yaggona root, there were stalls that offered for sale basketwork, cheap jewellery, tapa cloth dyed in patterns of black and brown, woven hats, and treasure from the beaches such as tortoise-shell, mother of pearl, coral, conches, cowries and many other lovely shells.
While walking down the main street, Gregory had noticed that, in addition to a small Roman Catholic Church and little Hindu temple, there were no fewer than three Nonconformist chapels, and he remarked to James upon there being so many religious buildings in so small a town.
With a shrug of his broad shoulders, James replied, ‘I doubt if anywhere in the world such a high percentage of the population, as in the South Seas, now strictly observes some faith or other. Here, owing to French influence, the majority of the Christians are Catholics. In the British and American territories they are mostly Protestants; but the different sects are innumerable and fanatically opposed to one another. The high spot of such rivalry is Tonga. There not only are there Lutherans, Baptists, Seventh-Day Adventists and many Latter Day Saints, as the Mormons call themselves, but three different kinds of Wesleyans: the followers of the original missionaries, a group that broke away and, as the King who preceded Queen Salote did not approve of either, a third sect that he created which practises a special variety of ritual invented by himself. Football and religion are the absorbing interests in all the islands. Believe it or not, one Sunday when I was in Tonga the charming head waiter at the Date Line Hotel actually mildly reproached me because I said I was not going to church.’
Having made the round, they returned to the Bonne Cuisine guest house, outside which they had left the jeep. The proprietor, a portly Indian, was standing on the doorstep, fanning himself. He wished them good morning politely, but showed James none of the deference which he received from his own people. When James asked for the diver from Fiji who was staying there, the Indian casually flicked his fan towards two men who were seated nearby, drinking beer at one of a dozen iron-topped tables under an awning.
The taller of the two was Hamie Baker, the man that Mr. Trollope had sent from Fiji; the other proved to be Lacost’s diver from Tahiti, Philip Macauta, who had been left behind to look after their gear. Both being of the same profession, they had formed a friendship and were whiling away their time together.
Baker said that he had almost given up expecting the Mr. Sallust for whom he had been sent there to work; but, as he and the salvaging equipment had been hired for three months, he had meant to wait another week before writing to Mr. Trollope to arrange for the gear to be shipped back to Suva.
Gregory told him that they now expected to start work quite soon. Upon which Macauta made a grimace and said, ‘Lucky for you, baas, that you seem to be on the right side of the Ratu. My lot couldn’t get a single one of the divers here to work for them. Though why, beats me. They were offered good money.’
‘My people are very independent,’ said James, ‘and easily offended. It may be that Monsieur Lacost approached them in a way that upset them. I am told that some days ago he left for Fiji, hoping to engage divers there.’
‘That’s right,’ Macauta nodded. ‘He and the Brazilian gent had several talks, then their two boats sailed away in company.’
After a few moments’ further desultory conversation Gregory asked Baker how he was off for money; then, learning that he was pretty low, and wishing to gain his goodwill, he gave him some French banknotes that had been returned from Noumea with his passport and other papers.
As the two friends climbed back into the jeep, James said, ‘This new development is very interesting.’
‘Very,’ Gregory agreed. ‘It’s evident that de Carvalho and Lacost have gone into partnership. On the face of it, that’s quite a sound arrangement, as one has the licence and the other the equipment already to hand.’
‘I find it rather surprising, seeing that de Carvalho wouldn’t do a deal with us.’
‘That was different. We had nothing to offer him, and he was then under the impression that after a month or two Lacost would get fed up and leave him a free field. When he got there he found, to the contrary, that the Colons were not only still in the game but intended to go ahead, licence or no licence, as soon as they could get divers. So he was faced with the strong possibility that they would beat him to it. All Lacost apparently has to gain is legalising his operations. But I wouldn’t mind betting that it was he who put up the proposition, and that he is only jollying de Carvalho along until he can get his hands on the goods. Then he’ll push the Brazilian overboard.’
‘I do hope you are right,’ James said, with charming candour. ‘That would leave Olinda free, and I feel almost sure she would marry me.’
Gregory laughed. ‘You are not taking into account that Lacost has no reason whatever to do de Carvalho in until after they have got up the gold. And the odds are now all against them. While they are still busy engaging divers in Fiji, unless something quite unforeseen happens we shall have salvaged the treasure ourselves.’
‘Yes, of course.’ James’ face fell. ‘And I suppose the sooner we get to work, the better. I thought we might go out to the wreck late this afternoon, so that I can show it to you. We must get back by sundown, though, as my people mean to entertain you with a meke. Then I’ll engage divers tomorrow and arrange for Baker’s equipment to be towed out.’
‘That will be fine,’ Gregory agreed. ‘No doubt, old Elbœuf will appear on the scene and start creating a fuss. He’ll naturally believe that you lied to him when you said that Lacost was not employed by you, and think that the Colons having failed, you’re now taking over. But….’
‘In such a matter I should never lie,’ the young Ratu broke in indignantly. ‘I shall tell him, as I have meant to ever since we learned that de Carvalho had got ahead of us in securing a licence, that as the Hereditary Ruler of Tujoa I consider the treasure mine by right. That I mean to take it and, if necessary, will fight my title to it in the courts.’
Soon after four o’clock that afternoon they again left the bure in the jeep. This time they took a road that led inland, mounting gradually as it wound through well-cultivated land. After covering a mile they were high enough to see over the tops of the trees that screened the left sickle point of the bay. Beyond them lay a small, well-wooded island, separated from the shore by a channel only a few hundred yards wide. Pointing to it, James said:
‘That’s where old Roboumo lives.’
‘And who may he be?’ Gregory enquired.
‘I told you about him when we were in Rio. He is the great witch-doctor of Tujoa and, for lack of a better expression, my enemy.’
‘Yes, I remember now. He runs a sort of protection racket, doesn’t he? Blackmails the natives with the aid of a gang of toughs, who tell the people that he’ll put a curse on them if they don’t pay up?’
‘That’s it. And he’s naturally opposed to modernisation of any kind, because it would tend to lessen their superstitious fear of him, or, rather, of the White Witch who is his partner. They think she is a kind of goddess and even a mention of her scares the pants off them.’
‘The White Witch,’ Gregory repeated. That rings a bell somehow. I’ve heard of her before, but I can’t think where. Is she really a white woman?’
‘I don’t know, but I doubt it. I should think it more likely that she is either a very fair-skinned Polynesian or just one of our natives who paints her face and the exposed parts of her body white. Anyway, there is no question about her potency. I’ve had ample proof that her curses do bring misfortune and even death to people.’
‘Then why don’t you clear out this nest of vipers? Old Elbœuf mentioned your body-guard, although I haven’t seen it. If you have fifty stout warriors at your disposal you should be able to overrun Roboumo’s island any night.’
James laughed. ‘My body-guard is really not much more than a piece of tradition. Six of them are my house servants; the rest are employed working in my plantations. They could, of course, be mustered in an emergency; but they have no modern weapons and have not been called on to fight for many years. All they do is attend me on State occasions, such as a visit from the Governor of New Caledonia, or at the funeral of one of my family. I’ve no doubt they would obey me in most matters; but, with the exception of a few of the more enlightened ones, like Aleamotu’a, not if I called on them to attack old Roboumo’s stronghold and invite the anger of the White Witch.’
By this time they could no longer see the sea. The jeep had entered a valley, on one side of which there rose a mountain. Parts of it were covered with thick jungle, others consisted of sheer cliffs of brown rock. Down one of the cliffs there gushed a hundred-foot-high waterfall. Clouds of fine spray steamed off the tall white pillar that it made before crashing with a roar and churning wildly below a stone bridge over which they passed.
A few minutes later they came out of the valley and saw the sea again, blue and sparkling, in another bay. The descent there was precipitous, but, with the ease of long practice in driving on such roads, James brought the jeep down to the white, palm-fringed beach.
Some way off, a launch was waiting and Aleamotu’a waved to them from her. Gregory and James were wearing only towelling robes over bathing trunks. Leaving their robes in the jeep, they waded, then swam out to the launch. As soon as they were aboard, Aleamotu’a headed her across the lagoon towards the reef. A few hundred yards short of the breaking waves, a buoy marked the site of the wreck. Near it a small speed boat, manned by two natives, was waiting. As they approached, its engine started up and, with spray festooning from either side of her bows, she began to race round in a narrow circle.
‘What are those fellows up to?’ Gregory asked.
‘They are our shark patrol,’ James answered lightly. ‘Churning up the water scares the brutes away. And those boys have eyes like hawks. If they spot one they’ll give us warning.’
Far from happy at the thought that sharks might be about, Gregory allowed Aleamotu’a to adjust on his head and shoulders the mask and cylinders of an aqua-lung, then put rubber flippers on his feet. He had believed that they were only going to swim on the surface with snorkels which would enable them to peer down at the wreck, and he did not at all like the idea of actually descending to her. But, not wishing to lose face, he followed James over the side without protest.
Through the shimmering waves on the surface he had been able to see nothing below from the boat, but once he was totally submerged, the undersea world became crystal clear for several fathoms down. On the shore side of the gently rocking launch a great cliff of tumbled rock rose up to within six feet of her bottom. Brightly-coloured fish darted in and out of hollows among the rocks, fans of coral waved lazily from it as he passed; he saw hermit crabs and sea anemones, a star fish and various kinds of seaweed that formed an underwater garden. On the seaward side of the launch there lay a deep valley. At the bottom of it was the wreck. Her outline was indistinct, as for over a century and a half submarine growths of many kinds had fastened themselves on her timbers. Apparently in some great hurricane she had been thrown right up on the nearby reef, had her bottom torn out, then sunk on her side to become wedged in the long pit between the reef and the cliff of rock.
He found the silent world below the surface fascinating and would have liked to linger ten feet down opposite the cliff face. But James grasped him by the ankle and pulled him further under. Lightly, his flippered feet touched the slowly-waving fronds of yellow-green growth that edged the broken bulwark of the ship. He then saw that the upper deck had caved in. The stump of a mast protruded from a chaotic cluster of planks, beams, spars and a cannon, all of which were so overgrown with barnacles and seaweed that they seemed to have coalesced into one solid mass.
With an arm that waved in slow motion, James beckoned him down towards a hole in the hillock of broken, slimy timbers, then disappeared into it. Far from happy, Gregory followed. He had always been a little vulnerable to claustrophobia. Now, the thought of being trapped down there, perhaps by another section of the deck collapsing, made the blood pound in his head and his breath come fast. It was almost dark and very eerie. As he pulled himself forward along the uneven passageway, his hand came to rest on a squashy substance that moved under it. His heart gave a lurch, then he realised that he was grasping a large sea-slug. Next moment a foot-long red fish darted out from a crevice, stared at him goggle-eyed for a moment, then streaked over his shoulder, only a few inches from his helmet. Automatically, he had thrown himself backwards. His right elbow came into sharp contact with the end of a small, jutting beam. It gave under the impact and other nearby pieces of the wreck shifted slightly. Deciding that he had had more than enough, he kicked out with his feet, thrusting himself back up the slope and out on to the slanting deck. There he encountered a squid the size of a croquet ball, with long tentacles. More frightened of him than he was of it, the squid discharged its inky fluid and made off, leaving Gregory enveloped in a cloud of blackened water. Jerking himself upright, he kicked and clawed his way towards the surface.
Aleamotu’a pulled him in over the side of the launch. Ripping off his headpiece, he sat panting for a few moments in the stern. He knew that if he had to go down through that dark tunnel to achieve something of real importance he could have forced himself to do it. But not for this, which amounted to no more than a gambling game. Others could play it if they wished, but it was not his idea of fun. Swimming slowly about below the surface of the deliciously warm sea, delighting in the colour and beauty of Nature’s innumerable marine miracles—yes. But crawling about in a submerged wreck where at any moment a dislodged beam might glide down and pin one there for good—definitely no.
James stayed down for a further fifteen minutes, then reappeared, the drops of water glistening like jewels on his splendid bronzed torso. He made no comment on Gregory’s early withdrawal, except to say, ‘You were down there long enough to get an idea how much there is to be done before we can reach the treasure. As no work can be carried out during periods of rough weather, even with two fully-equipped professional divers it would take many weeks to clear away that mass of broken timber. But with a dozen good native divers to assist by clearing all the smaller stuff, while the crane lifts the big beams, we might do it during a single spell of calm weather.’
By seven o’clock they were back at the bure. When Gregory went to turn on his bath a loud croaking noise came up from the waste. Calling Kalabo, he asked what it was. Grinning, the man explained that it was toads, many of which made their homes in drainpipes.
After dinner they went out into the garden, which was now lit by half a hundred flaming torches fixed to long stakes, to witness the meke. Many people had assembled there, the majority well down the slope; but a number of notables were seated cross-legged in a line in front of the house. In the centre of the line two armchairs had been placed for James and Gregory. There were grave obeisances from the Elders, and Gregory noticed that if any of them had occasion to pass in front of their Ratu they did so bent nearly double.
In the left foreground squatted a group of men. Several had guitars, one a long wooden lali drum extended across his knees, another a hollowed-out tree trunk to serve as a gong, a third a pair of clappers, while standing in a row behind them were six men holding upright bamboos of varying thicknesses, to imitate the noise of stamping on the ground. In front of the musicians squatted the singers. One of them opened on a high, single note, giving the others the key, then the rest joined in.
Presently the dancers emerged in a long, snake-like line from a group of trees. The heads of the women, crowned by their great puff-balls of black hair, swayed to the rhythm of the music. So did the leis of flowers swinging from their shoulders, and full skirts patterned in black, white and brown. By then each Elder had beside him a tin of black tobacco and a piece of dried banana leaf for rolling cigarettes. Courteously, they passed bowls of yaggona from one to another.
Now and then there came a precisely-measured series of hand-claps from the singers, or the guitars temporarily ceased, to allow the lali drum and stumping bamboos to dictate more clearly the intricate steps of the dancers. Like European ballet, each meke demonstrated in dumb show a particular theme; but, being a stranger to their customs, Gregory could not have told what their actions were meant to portray had not James explained to him in a low-voiced running commentary.
Later, six young girls came and sat in a line in front of James, then performed a different type of dance. It consisted of swaying their bodies while gracefully gesturing with their arms and outspread fingers. It was a delightful performance and recalled to Gregory the dances he had seen when in Bangkok. But there the Thai dancers had the advantage of displaying their beautiful sinuous bodies in the nude, but for jewelled belts, sandals and breast ornaments, and wore high, pointed, pagoda-like gilded helmets.
Shortly before midnight, James stood up. Complete silence fell while obeisances were made by everyone. There followed three ear-shattering claps as Gregory followed him into the bure.
All the house servants were still outside, joining in renewed singing that had now become universal. In the great, lofty chamber only one benzine lamp had been left burning; so, for a moment, in the dim light, they did not notice a figure seated cross-legged on the floor.
The figure rose. It was a man: tall, gaunt, his face painted black, and dressed in barbaric splendour. Round the blackened face there was a complete aureole of white hair. From well back on the forehead it descended unbroken in bushy side-whiskers to a rounded beard. The sight of it at once reminded Gregory of the pictures he had seen of King Thakobau.
The old man made the customary genuflection to his Ratu, but as he rose, the light was sufficient for Gregory to see that on his face there was a mocking smile.
Abruptly James addressed him. His reply was soft-voiced, but held a tone of insolence. Turning to Gregory, James said, ‘This is Roboumo, of whom I have told you. He has come here to talk to us about the wreck.’
Roboumo made a slight bow to Gregory and broke into pidgin French. ‘Monsieur Salut. Have heard about. Interested in wreck too, yes? My spies very good. Learn everything. Others also wish Spanish gold. But no!’
The deep-set eyes in the wrinkled, leathery face took on a malignant glare. ‘Frenchmens from Tahiti. They come here, make much plan. My spies, they listen. Frenchmens say, “With gold we make Revika tourist trap. Build hotel. Surf-boarding. Deep-sea fish. Motor ride to waterfall. Make place for golf play. Plenty Americans, they come. We make much rich.” But when I told, I say No! No! No! Will not have. To get gold from sea divers must have. I send the word. Divers not work. Diver work and I destroy him. White Witch will curse.’
So that, thought Gregory, is the answer to the riddle that has been puzzling me all day.
The tall, skinny old witch-doctor went on, ‘The Frenchmens send Portuguese man to me. He argue; offer much money. I will not take. He very angry. He say I go to hell, he get divers from Fiji. I tell him, “Do that and the White Witch place curse of death on you. Forget gold or you live only till full moon. Full moon come, death strike you down”.’
A moment after he had ceased speaking Roboumo uttered a high-pitched chuckle. Then he said, ‘I have power to overlook Portuguese. You know that, Ratu. He seeks divers, I learn it. Then next week he dead.’ Turning to Gregory, he added, This warning also for you. Leave bad gold where it lie. Try to get and White Witch curse you same as Portuguese man from Brazil.