Brian’s hands were shaking and his back was stuck to the seat with perspiration. He was certain all his hair had turned grey and he’d aged at least twenty years. He looked up and Sohte was standing next to his seat again.
‘Are you all right, Mr Bradshaw?’ he asked. ‘You look a little pale. Do you want to be sick?’
Brian weakly shook his head. ‘I’m too fuckin scared to be sick,’ he croaked. ‘Bloody hell! What happened? I feel like I’ve just been over Niagra Falls in a barrel.’
‘Electrical wind shears, Mr Bradshaw. Unique to this part of the Pacific. They line up across Finger Reef around this time of the year.’ Sohte tapped the ceiling. ‘That’s one of the reasons the plane has been reinforced.’
‘Thank Christ for that,’ said Brian.
‘When you hit them, you have to switch the engine off and ride it out.’
‘You turn the engine off?’
‘Yes. Otherwise the electrical fusion burns the wiring out,’ replied Sohte.
‘Why not just fly around the bloody things?’
‘Takes too long,’ shrugged Sohte. ‘And they drift around, anyway. As long as you know what to do it’s okay. And Ohlo knows what to do. He’s a good pilot.’
Brian held his stomach. ‘Evidently.’
‘Actually, they can be quite a buzz once you get used to them,’ smiled Sohte. ‘Anyway. Everything’s safe now, Mr Bradshaw. And we’ll be there in less than half an hour. So enjoy the rest of the trip.’
‘I’m sure I will,’ replied Brian.
Brian watched Sohte go back to the cockpit then took out his bloodstained hanky and wiped the sweat from his face. After that, he told himself, nothing would ever scare him again. Guns, planes, big surf. Nothing. Brian felt he’d just stared death in the face and spat in its eye. He turned to where Sohte had stowed his bag. Shit! I wouldn’t mind a quick belt of Jack Daniels, though. Thank Christ Gemma left me some. Brian was about to reach for his bag and stopped. No. Once I start, I don’t think I’ll stop. And we’ll be there before long. I’d better not arrive blithering drunk. Brian settled back and wiped some more sweat from his face.
After a while he calmed down and began peering out the window. They were flying lower now and the ocean started to change colour. There were large patches of dark blue which meant they were coming in over reefs. Brian caught a glimpse of green in the distance when Sohte turned around in the cockpit.
‘Over on the right is Tiger Island,’ he called out. ‘Do you know about the prisoners, Mr Bradshaw?’
‘Sort of,’ replied Brian.
‘That’s where they are.’
Brian leant across and and looked out the opposite side of the plane. Below was a small rocky island with clusters of palm trees in the middle. There were two small beaches at either end and amongst the palm trees was a squat stone building. Someone in a pair of white shorts and a straw hat was standing outside the building watching the plane go over. The island faded behind them and Brian resumed looking out the porthole on the left.
The water over the reefs became clearer now and waves curled along the edges. A pod of dolphins suddenly burst out of a wave and splashed back into the water, kicking their tails as if they were putting on an exhibition for the plane’s arrival. Brian was smiling at their antics when four huge speckled grey shapes lumbering slowly through the crystal clear water round the outside of the reefs made him look twice. They were whale sharks. Brian had only ever seen a whale shark once, a solitary male in Western Australia. Never four together. He would have got his camera, but the glimpse of land he saw earlier was now the lush green jungle of the main island fast approaching. It ran down to a long white beach full of coconut trees and patches of thick mangrove. The sand and palm trees ended on the right at a jumble of rocks running up to a low headland.
Brian moved to a seat on the opposite side of the plane. There was another headland on the right, separated from the other by a deep channel. Built into the water beneath the headlands were a pair of tidal generators tumbling over in the flowing water and, around the headlands above, the blades of a dozen wind generators were rotating in the breeze.
The plane came in low over the headlands and followed the channel towards the harbour. When it reached the end, it slowed its descent and started banking to the left. Brian kept staring out the right porthole. The harbour looked about a kilometre in width and length and the water was sparkling blue, ringed with a strip of white sand surrounded by rainforest. In the distance a mountain range pushed up out of the rainforest to form a rugged grey cliff overlooking the ocean. The plane kept banking to the left, getting ready to land, so Brian went back to his seat and strapped himself in.
On the left, the harbour formed a sandy bay where it skirted the jungle, and through the trees Brian could see the roofs of small houses. Built out from the sand was a wooden jetty with a crane and a large tugboat moored at one side. A flag flew above the stern, and mounted fore and aft were two guns covered with black canvas. Further along as they flew in was a wooden marina with berths for six boats; a small runabout was tied up along the side and moored at the end was a white twelve-metre yacht with an American flag dangling from the stern. Brian could make out a street approaching now and a few small buildings facing the harbour, either side of a large white two-storey building with balustraded balconies and a flag out the front. Across the street from the bigger building, a jetty angled out into the harbour with a landing and a set of steps at the end. At the opposite end was a shed, then a fuel tank sitting on a concrete stand next to a long bicycle rack full of mountain bikes. Gathered along and around the jetty was a large crowd of people. The plane gently touched down on the harbour and started taxiing across the calm, clear water towards the landing. Sohte left his seat in the cockpit, picked up the rope and walked over to the door as Ohlo cut the engine.
‘Welcome to Lan Laroi, Mr Bradshaw,’ said Sohte.
‘Thanks, Sohte,’ replied Brian. ‘It looks unreal.’
Sohte opened the door and immediately Brian heard singing coming from the jetty in wonderful clear voices. Sohte stepped out of the plane as Ohlo came over from the cockpit, a log book tucked under his arm.
‘Welcome to our island, Mr Bradshaw,’ he said, and picked up Brian’s bags.
‘Thanks, Ohlo.’
As soon as Sohte tied up, Ohlo motioned with the bags. ‘After you, Mr Bradshaw.’
‘Righto.’ Brian stepped out onto the jetty, blinked at the sunlight and tried to take everything in as he made his way up the steps. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
Hundreds of people were gathered round the jetty singing and dancing. They were all barefoot, with long, shiny black hair, tawny skin and the same features as Sohte and Ohlo. The women and children were wearing coloured wrap-arounds, flowers in their hair and beads and shell necklaces around their necks and wrists. Hanging from their necklaces were tiny sharks carved out of red stone. The men wore different coloured, loose-fitting pants that fell past their knees, and tied at the waist with a drawstring. They were bare chested and tattooed and, like the women, wore beads and shell necklaces round their necks, with tiny carved sharks tied to them.
Ohlo walked past Brian and joined Sohte, who was standing at the end of the pier with a group of men: some were in Australian army fatigues; the others were wearing bell-bottom denims and blue peaked caps. Next to them were three older men in coloured wrap-arounds — one green, one yellow and one blue. Standing next to the older men were three beautiful young girls dressed in black tops and coloured wihros, the traditional native dress with a serrated hem. Two had garlands of flowers in their hands. There was no mistaking the man in the blue board shorts and white T-shirt with the Lan Laroian flag on the front, standing in front of everybody else. It was President Milne. He was staring at Brian, taking him all in, on his face the warmest smile imaginable.
The people kept singing, the men clapped hands and the women were dancing some kind of hula, only they would all spin around in unison and clap
their hands above their heads. Brian couldn’t understand the words, but every smiling face was turned towards him and he knew it was a song of welcome. Brian felt his cheeks turning red as he walked up to the man in the white T-shirt.
‘You must be President Milne,’ said Brian.
‘That’s right,’ beamed President Milne. ‘Welcome to Lan Laroi, Brian.’
As he spoke, the two young girls draped the garlands of flowers they were holding around Brian’s neck and before he could say anything, stepped back and bowed their heads gracefully. Brian turned to Milne who was watching him intently. Studying him. Staring at him as if he was savouring some special moment. In return Brian studied President Milne. He looked even younger than the photo in Time magazine. In fact he didn’t just look young. He was young. He could have passed for Brian’s brother. Same build, same blond, surfer hair, same features. After a moment, Milne stepped forward, threw his arms around Brian and hugged him, to a great roar of approval from the crowd.
‘I can’t tell you how good it is to see you, Brian.’ Milne drew back, held Brian by the shoulders and stared at him. ‘I’m so glad you came.’
‘Thanks,’ replied Brian, not knowing what to think or say. The welcome might have been arranged for his benefit, but it wasn’t staged. Everybody was fervently happy to see him. It was like the coming of the messiah. The singing softened to a beautiful chant and Brian felt Milne tap him on the shoulder.
‘I’m sorry the whole island couldn’t be here,’ he said. ‘But you’ll get to meet them.’
‘That’s all right, Mr President,’ replied Brian. ‘This is absolutely fantastic. I feel embarrassed.’
Milne slapped Brian on the back. ‘Don’t be. And for Christ’s sake call me Ron.’
‘How about Sawi?’
Milne smiled. ‘I’ll explain that to you later. In the meantime, Brian, there’s some people I want you to meet.’
‘Okay, Ron.’
Milne introduced Brian to the three chiefs of the island and their wives, Omoi, Tawau and Euli. They all hugged Brian and rubbed cheeks and addressed him as Takatau and seemed to treat him with much reverence. Brian didn’t know what it meant, but he rubbed cheeks in return and showed everyone the respect he imagined they deserved. He admired the chiefs’ intricate tattooing and noticed that the sharks around their necks were a little bigger than the others. Next were the two girls who had put the leis around his neck and the other girl. The first one was drop-dead gorgeous. She looked about twenty, with soft brown eyes, a lovely mouth and a perfect figure. Her thick black hair was parted down the centre and held in place by a band of shells round her forehead.
‘Brian. This is my daughter, Ebonee,’ said Milne.
Brian masked his feelings. But if this was Milne’s daughter, he must have been about ten when she was born. Brian took her small, soft hand and was immediately captivated. ‘Hello, Ebonee,’ he said quietly. ‘Nice to meet you.’
Ebonee smiled at Brian and bowed her head. ‘Thank you, Takatau. It is my pleasure.’ She returned to her father’s side and watched Brian.
‘And this is my niece, Keleu,’ said Milne.
Keleu was almost as beautiful as Ebonee. With similar brown eyes and shiny black hair held in place by a band of plaited leather dotted with pearls.
‘Greetings, Takatau,’ she said. ‘Welcome to our island.’
‘Thank you, Keleu,’ Brian touched the flowers around his neck. ‘And thank you for the beautiful flowers.’
‘Thank you, Takatau,’ smiled Keleu.
‘And this is my girlfriend, Airu,’ said President Milne.
Airu was a little taller and thinner than the other girls, her hair held in place by a wide band of purple cloth. ‘Greetings, Takatau,’ she smiled. ‘Welcome to Lan Laroi.’
Brian gently shook her hand. ‘Thank you, Airu. It’s lovely to be here.’
Milne then introduced Brian to the men in uniform. They were Lan Laroi’s army, navy and air force, and they all had names like Karak, Okoli or Talu. Brian did his best to remember each one, but they all seemed to go in one ear and out the other as the men hugged him and shook his hand and treated him like a long-lost brother. Finally Milne put his arm around Brian’s shoulders.
‘Well, that’s about it,’ he said. ‘I’ll just make a quick speech. You say a few words. Then I’ll show you to your digs.’
‘Okay, Ron,’ said Brian.
Milne stepped forward and raised his hands. The crowd stopped singing and gave him room.
‘People of Lan Laroi,’ he began, ‘you have now met my friend Brian Bradshaw from Australia. As you know, Brian is Takatau.’ This brought a reaction from the crowd. As one they all turned and bowed their heads in Brian’s direction. ‘I don’t know how long Takatau will be staying with us on the island. But while he is here, you will show him every courtesy.’ Milne turned to a group of giggling teenage girls standing at one side and pointed his finger. ‘That doesn’t quite mean every courtesy. Even if he is Takatau.’ The girls smiled at Brian and gave him very heavy up-and-down looks. ‘Just remember, though, Mr Bradshaw is Sawi’s special guest. And we must all look after him.’ Milne turned to Brian. ‘Now Takatau will say a few words.’
Brian had never made a speech in his life and his face reddened again. He stepped up to where Milne had been standing and cleared his throat.
‘Umhh. Well, firstly I’d like to thank Ohlo and Sohte for bringing me here safely.’ Brian turned to the two young Lan Laroians and held up his bandaged arm. ‘And for looking after me.’ Sohte and Ohlo smiled proudly. ‘I also have to thank President Milne, Sawi, for inviting me to your beautiful island. Sawi was a good friend of my father’s back in Australia. We … go back a long way. And finally, I have to thank all you wonderful people for such a fabulous welcome. I am deeply honoured and I’ll never, ever forget it. Thank you very, very much.’
The people clapped and cheered their appreciation. Milne finished clapping and gave Brian a nod of approval. ‘Sensational, Brian. You’re a natural.’ Milne stepped forward to address the crowd again. ‘Okay, everybody. We have now made Takatau welcome. And Takatau appreciates our feelings towards him. Now he must rest from his long journey. So back to whatever it is you’re doing. And we shall all meet here again at seven o’clock for the party in Takatau’s honour at the Key Club. See you then, with ink for your pen.’
The crowd clapped and cheered again, then started to drift off. There were no cars, everybody either had a mountain bike or came in a trishaw; those that didn’t, walked. Sohte and Ohlo went back to the plane with the other men in uniform, leaving one named Karak to carry Brian’s bags.
‘Before we go,’ said Milne, ‘I’ll point a few things out to you, so you don’t get lost while you’re in downtown Key Harbour.’
‘Thanks,’ said Brian, looking around. ‘I’d hate to stumble into the wrong part of town and get rolled.’
Milne indicated along the road. ‘This is Key Street. You see the two-storey white building over there? That’s the Presidential Palace. That’s where you’ll be staying. The entrance is the glass door in the middle. The key’s under the mat, but it’s hardly ever locked. The shutters on either side are storage areas. There’s two cars parked out the back. A Holden ute and a Jackaroo. And we’ve got a truck somewhere.’ Milne pointed to a long, low building next door on the left with a thatched roof, open walls and a wooden sign hanging out front with the words KEY BAR burnt into it. ‘That’s the local night spot. Open six days a week. Happy hour, five to seven.’
‘It looks like the bar next to my hotel in Kahiap,’ said Brian.
‘Yeah, it does a bit,’ agreed Milne.
Next to the Key Bar was a small shop with green louvres over the window then another shop with blue louvres. At the end was a bigger white stucco building with orange tiles and palm trees out the front; it looked like a Mexican cantina. Milne identified the three buildings as the bakery, the supermarket, and the cantina was the post office, bank and courthouse. Next door
to the Presidential Palace on the right was another white Mexican-style building with a radio transmitter on the roof next to a bank of solar panels. It was the power station, pumphouse and armoury. Brian had already flown over the marina and the other jetty.
‘One street back is the hospital,’ said Milne. ‘Two streets back to the left is the school. And that’s about it for Key Harbour. I’ll show you the industrial estate later.’
Brian nodded. ‘If I get lost I’ll ask a taxi driver.’
‘That’s the idea. Just ring yellow rickshaws. Come on, I’ll show you to your digs. Hey, how’s your arm? I meant to ask.’
‘All right,’ replied Brian. ‘It’s just a nick. I was lucky.’
‘That’s good.’
Karak took Brian’s bags and with Milne and the girls leading, Brian followed them across the road to the Presidential Palace. The glass door was open, there was a corridor, then they went up two flights of wooden stairs and whitewashed walls to a landing. Milne’s office was in front of the stairs, a corridor on either side led to two rooms to the right and another two on the left. Brian’s room was at the end on the left. Karak pushed the door open, placed Brian’s bags inside, bowed his head and left. Brian had a quick look around. It was a large room, with white walls and a double bed with a floral bed cover and a mosquito net. A bamboo wardrobe and dressing table stood against the walls and floral curtains covered a door to a balcony. There was a table and chairs, a small fridge, a TV with a VCR and a ghetto blaster sitting on a coffee table. On one wall were two colourful shark paintings.
The Ultimate Aphrodisiac Page 6