Keleu let go of Brian’s hand and stepped across to the very edge. ‘It is all right,’ she said. ‘I have angered Takatau. Now I must give myself to the shark God.’
Brian went to make a grab for her. ‘No, Keleu. Don’t,’ he called out.
Keleu smiled at Brian. ‘Goodbye, Takatau,’ she said, then jumped off the jetty.
‘Oh shit, no!’ Horrified, Brian watched Keleu splash feet first into the middle of the tiger sharks. Rather than watch her get torn to pieces, he turned helplessly to President Milne. ‘Ron. I didn’t mean it. I swear.’
Before Milne could answer, all the children ran past Brian and jumped off the jetty, followed by the old people, then Chief Namalek’s wife and some other members of the tribe. They splashed into the harbour, then trod water around the sharks, throwing flowers at them. Some of the children swam onto the shark’s backs. Then the sharks rolled over like puppies and lay motionless in the water while the children rubbed their stomachs. Keleu was floating in the water alongside the biggest shark, cradling its head, her face resting against its awesome mouth. Dumbfounded, Brian watched for a few moments then turned to Milne again.
The President held up the camera. ‘I got some great photos,’ he said. ‘I even used the zoom lens.’
Brian was a hotbed of confusion, horror and anger. Along with embarrassment. He tore the camera from Milne’s hands and threw it in his bag with the other one. ‘Well that’s good,’ he shouted. ‘Because this is fucked. And so are you.’
Milne was taken aback. ‘There’s something wrong, Brian?’
‘Something wrong?’ yelled Brian. ‘I’ve been shot. Scared fuckin shitless in a plane. Thrown to the fuckin sharks. What’s next? Alligators? Lions? Quicksand?’ Brian waved his arms in the air. ‘I’m not hanging around for any more. You can shove your bloody island up your arse. I’m on that fuckin tugboat out first thing tomorrow.’
Milne nodded. ‘Okay, mate,’ he said sincerely. ‘Sorry you feel that way. I’ll tell the boys to have the boat ready in the morning.’
‘And you can shove your surfboards up your arse too. Along with your fifty cent drinks, your pot, your disc jockey, and all your fuckin rock ’n’ roll music. I should never have left Bondi in the first place. Fuck you and the yacht you sailed in on.’ Brian picked up his bag and his T-shirt and stormed back to his room.
After a moment or two Chief Namalek turned to President Milne. ‘Well, there goes our Takatau,’ he said.
‘Maybe,’ replied Milne.
‘He was even more scared than you were when Ieuli initiated you, Sawi.’
‘Yeah,’ agreed President Milne. ‘But he’s only a young bloke. And he has been through a lot in the last couple of days, poor bastard.’
‘Granted,’ said Chief Namalek. ‘I hope he changes his mind, though. Everybody likes him. I do. And he’s a great dancer.’
‘I’ll see how he feels later on tonight. After he’s had a feed and a couple of drinks, and I’ve explained things to him.’
‘Do that. It would be a great blow to all if we were to lose him.’ Chief Namalek nodded to the water. ‘You wish to swim, Sawi?’
‘My oath. I’m as hot as buggery,’ said President Milne. ‘Come on, I’ll race you round the jetty.’
Chief Namalek turned to the sky and thumped one arm across his chest. ‘Sawi. I believe this is my day to beat you.’
‘After all the piss you drank last night? Turn it up, son.’
Back in his room, Brian tore off his wet clothes and sat on the toilet in a lather of sweat. Between the kesi and the shock hitting him, he was violently ill, throwing up and having gut-wrenching bowel movements. Brian never considered himself a hero at the best of times, and if there was one thing that terrified him, it was sharks. He’d seen a bootleg video of a man getting taken by a tiger shark in Mexico and one had swum under his surfboard once at Catherine Hill Bay. Another one had buzzed him and his friends when they were surfing at Ulladulla. Brian knew he’d have nightmares about that huge tiger shark coming at him under the jetty for the rest of his life and he would have torn the tiny, stone shark from round his neck, only he didn’t have the strength.
How Keleu and the others swam around with the sharks he didn’t know. Probably the flowers the children threw in the water were full of drugs or something. Whatever the answer, Brian didn’t give a stuff. After tomorrow, he wouldn’t have to worry about Keleu, sharks or anything else on Lan Laroi. He’d be taking President Milne at his word about diplomatic immunity and be on the tugboat to Konipeau, then getting the first plane back to Australia. Bad luck the Americans were going to invade the island. But that had nothing to do with him.
He sat on the toilet, alternately vomiting and crapping till he was completely empty. After his ordeal, Brian felt like a shower, but he was too beat. Instead, he had a glass of water, splashed some over his face then flopped on the bed. Across the road, the ceremony continued round the jetty into the late afternoon. Then all the Opwuhi farewelled their friends from the deep, packed up and went home. President Milne walked to his office; Keleu joined Ebonee in their house.
Brian woke up in the early evening, got out of bed and walked slowly across his darkened room to the balcony. The sun had just set, leaving the night sky stained with thin smears of pink and gold amidst a sprinkling of early stars. A three-quarter moon was floating up behind the surrounding mountains, spreading a silver sheen across the harbour. Brian looked at his watch. Three-twenty. It had to be later than that. He drank a bottle of mineral water from the fridge, took a few deep breaths then had a shower and a shave. Still feeling drained from what he’d been through, Brian looked at his clothes while he dried off. He’d pack his stuff later. Right now he was too hungry. He put on a clean T-shirt and shorts and walked down to the kitchen to see if he could rustle up a couple of sandwiches. Milne’s door was closed. Brian didn’t bother to knock.
In the kitchen Brian was surprised to find another tray covered by a cloth with his name on it. Brian removed the cloth and underneath was a two kilogram lobster covered in melted cheese and paprika, plus mashed sweet potato and vegetables. Another note said dessert was in the fridge. Brian could barely remember the last time he’d eaten lobster. It was in a restaurant and cost him an arm and a leg and was a quarter the size of the one on the plate. Brian popped the lobster in the microwave and checked the fridge to see what dessert was. Peach strudel. Mango ice cream was in the deep freeze, coffee was next to the sink. Brian ate in the kitchen.
The meal was almost unbelievable and when he’d finished Brian was in a better mood; however, he was still finding it extremely difficult to see the funny side of almost getting eaten by a shark. He finished his coffee, rinsed the plates and thought he’d better have a word with President Milne. Brian was fairly certain where to find him.
There were about a dozen people seated in the Key Bar, quietly drinking while they listened to the music playing, when Brian walked in. They all smiled and bowed their heads when they saw him. President Milne was on a stool at the bar with three members of the military drinking beer. Jim Belushi’s ‘Smokin’ Blues’ cut into Down to the Bone’s ‘17 Mile Drive’ as Brian walked over and, if he wasn’t mistaken, it was one of his tapes. A friendly smile spread across the President’s face when he saw Brian.
‘Hello Takatau,’ he said. ‘How are you feeling, mate?’
‘Not too bad thanks,’ replied Brian evenly.
‘Did you find your dinner in the kitchen?’
‘Yes I did. It was beautiful. Thank you very much.’
‘She’s all right, my Lengi.’ Milne nodded to the soldiers. ‘You’ve met the boys.’
The soldiers raised their bottles. ‘Evening, Takatau,’ they chorused.
‘Hello, fellahs,’ replied Brian.
‘Tannoo and Ahdol will be flying you back to Konipeau tomorrow.’
‘Flying?’ said Brian.
‘Yeah. It takes all day to get there by tugboat,’ said Milne. ‘And they’ll go the long
way round. So you don’t have to worry about wind shears.’
‘Okay.’ Brian nodded to the speakers round the dancefloor. ‘Not bad music.’
‘Yeah,’ answered Milne. ‘I went to your room to see how you were. And you were lying on the bed snoring away like a ninety-kilogram carp. So I requisitioned a couple of your tapes. I’m dubbing them now. Some of it’s pretty good.’
‘I’m glad you approve, Mr President.’
‘I don’t know about one mob though,’ said Milne. ‘They start off all right, then halfway through the song they all start racing each other to see who can finish first.’
‘That sounds like Killing Heidi.’
Milne pushed out a stool. ‘Well, are you going to have one with us before you go? What do you fancy? How about a nice rum punch?’
Brian thought for a moment. ‘Yeah, all right,’ he said, sitting down.
Milne turned to the barman. ‘Give Takatau a special, Amalo.’
‘One special coming up,’ replied the barman.
‘What’s a special?’ enquired Brian.
‘Rum and monstero delicioso. It’s a prick removing all the little seeds. But wait till you taste it.’
Brian had a closer look around the bar. It was solid bamboo with bamboo stools. A bamboo chiller with a glass front held all the beers and juices and doubled as a counter. Bottles of rum with plain labels sat on top with the glasses. The till was a drawer. There were no posters advertising booze. A few rock ones and several laminated posters of aliens with pointy chins and strange dark eyes lighting joints from glowing finger tips saying, ‘Take me to your dealer.’ Along with a couple of old reefer madness posters complete with a drawing of a dishevelled woman in a nightie next to a hypodermic syringe. And the fearsome words: MARIJUANA. WEIRD ORGIES. WILD PARTIES. UNLEASHED PASSIONS.
A milky-looking drink arrived in front of Brian in a tall glass with ice and a swizzle stick. Brian thanked the barman and picked it up. ‘Well, cheers, everyone.’
‘Cheers,’ replied the others.
Brian took a sip, then another. The punch was special all right. He could taste ten different fruits at once. ‘Shit! How good are these,’ he said.
Milne winked and drank his beer. ‘Well. At least you got to taste a special and join the Opwuhi before you left, Brian,’ he said. ‘I guess that’s something.’
Brian shook his head. ‘Ron. I’m no hero. I’m fairly quiet as a rule. And today, I’ve never been so frightened in my life. It made me physically ill.’
‘I know just how you felt,’ said Milne. ‘I wanted to strangle my wife when she pushed me in. But you were never in any real danger.’
‘Never in any danger? Are you for real? That big shark nearly swallowed me whole. The fuckin things were still snapping at my heels when I got up on the landing.’
‘They were only playing.’
‘Playing my arse,’ said Brian.
Milne drank his beer and smiled. ‘Have you ever heard of Tonic Immobility? No. I didn’t think you had. Sharks have got these things called ampullae of Lorenzini.’
‘A what?’ said Brian.
‘Lateral lines and sensors under their skin,’ replied Milne. ‘Like a highly developed inner ear. They can sense one molecule of blood in a million molecules of water. Or a hundred-millionth of a volt of electricity. And they can pick up magnetic fields. Especially our little goldfish in Lan Laroi. That big red stone the natives hold in the water is a sort of magnetic massage to them and the sharks swim round it like getting their backs scratched. The natives call them in to let them know the stone’s ready, then jump in, roll them on their backs and give them tonic immobility as well. The sharks love it. The natives have been doing it for yonks. As long as you got that little bit of redstone round your neck, you’re sweet. The sharks sense it, they know you’re their friend, and they won’t attack you.’
‘Yeah?’ Brian absently took hold of the little shark round his neck. ‘Well, you could have told me.’
Milne shook his head. ‘That’s the price you have to pay for being an outsider, white boy. You wouldn’t have believed me anyway.’
‘Probably not,’ admitted Brian. ‘So as long as I’m wearing this, no shark will bother me?’
‘Around here, for sure. I wouldn’t guarantee it out in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.’
‘Oh.’
‘That’s how the natives got rid of the missionaries. They’d take them out for a paddle then tip the canoe over. The bible bashers wouldn’t have their little charms around their necks and the sharks would pick them off. Then the natives would get back in their canoe, paddle in and say there’d been an accident. Take some more missionaries out to help and do the same again. Mark one up for the treacherous heathens.’
Brian looked at the little shark around his neck, had another mouthful of rum and was surprised to find he’d finished his drink already, it tasted that good. ‘Is it all right if I have another one of these?’ he asked. ‘They’re unreal.’
‘Have as many as you like,’ replied Milne, nodding to the barman. ‘On the house.’ Milne raised his beer. ‘And I want to tell you something, Brian. You showed a lot of balls today. The Opwuhi were very impressed. They like you. In fact the whole island likes you. They love you. You’ve touched the people’s hearts in the short time you’ve been here.’
‘I have?’ said Brian.
‘My oath,’ said Milne. ‘You’ve got a good attitude. And how many people would dare to tell Sawi to go fuck himself?’
Brian laughed. ‘Sorry about that, Ron. I wasn’t quite feeling myself at the time. But hey. That’s … really good, the people like me.’ Brian’s drink arrived. He had another sip looked around. ‘So where is everybody?’
‘Getting over last night,’ replied the President. ‘They’re not real party animals. That was a big one for them. They’ll be watching the stars and in bed soon. I’ll close up here in a couple of hours. But you can stay on if you want to.’
‘No. That’s okay,’ said Brian. ‘I’m a bit tired myself.’
Milne sipped a fresh beer. ‘Well, I’m sorry I’m not going to get a chance to show you the ruins before you leave.’
‘The ruins?’ said Brian.
‘Yeah. That’s one of the main reasons I invited you over here. No one knows about them. The natives refuse to go there.’
‘Where are they?’ asked Brian.
‘Up the top of the island. Remember that trail I pointed out to you? They’re thousands of years old. They make the pyramids and the Mayan temples look old hat.’
Brian felt a tap on the shoulder. He turned around and one of the soldiers, Yeelix, handed him a fat joint. Brian had a toke and handed it to Milne. The President took a toke and handed it back to Brian. Brian took another toke and handed it on. He swallowed a mouthful of his beautiful rum punch and had another look around the room as Davy Simmons and Friends’ ‘I’ll Buy That’ cut out and Skunkhour’s ‘Gold Radiation’ cut in. It wasn’t bad sitting in a bar with good company, drinking the absolutely grousest booze and smoking choice dacca while they played your music. The food was something else on Lan Laroi and so was the surf. And it wasn’t bad being in a place where everybody liked you. Loved you, even. Brian started to feel very cruisy as the joint went round again.
‘Yeah,’ said President Milne, blowing a huge cloud of white smoke over the bar. ‘You would have got some absolutely amazing photos.’
‘Yeah,’ Brian nodded slowly.
Brian looked very analytically at President Milne. Something the President had said earlier about Kurtz and Apocalypse Now came to mind. With the soldiers next to him in their fatigues, Milne could pass for another Kurtz in a jungle hideaway. And Milne had fought in Vietnam. From another point of view, Milne also started to look like the devil. And Brian felt he was being tempted by the devil. If he had any sense he’d get up and leave before the devil lead him into temptation.
‘How long does it take to get there?’ asked Brian.
�
�To the ruins?’ said Milne. ‘About an hour in the runabout. A couple by car.’
‘And these ruins are thousands of years old, you say, Ron?’
‘Probably hundreds of thousands, Brian. No one knows for sure.’
Brian drifted off and came back. ‘Hundreds of thousands of years?’
‘I’m inclined to think they are,’ said Milne.
Brian took a slow sip of his rum. ‘Well, if we’re talking in hundreds of thousands of years, Ron, I guess another couple of days wouldn’t make much difference.’ Brian started laughing as if he’d just cracked the funniest line of all time.
Milne started laughing, too. So did the soldiers. ‘That’s the spirit, Brian,’ said Milne, patting Brian on the shoulder. ‘Stay a while longer. Shit, mate, you can’t leave just yet. You’re Takatau. Ain’t that right, boys?’
The soldiers raised their drinks and smiled at Brian. ‘Takatau,’ they chorused. ‘Takatau.’
Another fat joint appeared in front of Brian. He took it and shook his head. ‘I don’t know who I am, to be bloody honest.’ He held up the joint and grinned. ‘How about Toke-atau.’ Brian sucked on the joint as the bar exploded with laughter.
They drank, toked, laughed and listened to Brian’s tapes into the wee small hours. Ten-thirty at least. Milne regailed them with tales of Vietnam and old Bondi. Brian put in his twenty cents’ worth about current Bondi. Several punters put their twenty cents’ worth in about Lan Laroi when they came to the bar for drinks. In the course of the evening, President Milne gave Brian a brand new gold Rolex and told him to be in the kitchen at seven in the morning ready to roll; bring his camera and plenty of film. Finally they all hit the night on the head, and everybody went their separate ways, leaving Amalo to close the bar. Milne walked Brian up the stairs with his arms around Brian’s shoulders like bosom buddies and they stopped at the landing.
‘Well, Takatau old mate,’ said Milne. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’ The golden smile spread across the President’s face again. ‘And I’m so glad you changed your mind about leaving. I promise you, Brian, you won’t regret it.’
The Ultimate Aphrodisiac Page 12