by Andrew Garve
Martin’s smouldering anger flamed. “It wasn’t an act of God and it could have been helped,” he said savagely. “You know that as well as I do. The place isn’t fit for the job, as I told you before. If you’d seen crippled bed cases trying to crawl out of an overturned hut on their stumps, shouting and yelling and sliding about in the mud with all hell loose, you’d agree with me. It’s a disgrace that they should be there, a damned disgrace!”
Garland watched him with an anxiety he tried to hide. “We can hardly reopen the debate on policy at a moment like this. How big a working party do you think you’ll need?”
“Ten men at least,” said Martin. “Chaps who can turn their hands to pretty well anything. And we’ll need a big launch right away. I’ll have to evacuate twenty-five cases to the mainland this afternoon.”
Garland, his hand already on the telephone to call the Office of Works, dropped the receiver as though it were hot. “Why?” he asked sharply.
“I told you—we’ve no male infirmary now. There are twelve bed cases in very bad shape, and we may have some more deaths if they don’t get proper attention. There are another dozen that we can’t possibly accommodate with two huts out of commission. As a matter of fact, the whole place should be evacuated. That’s my recommendation, and I’ll put it in writing. There may be another storm. If there is, I’ll do my best, but I want to make it quite clear that in my view we’re not justified in taking the risk.”
“I will take full responsibility,” said Garland. Great dangers had suddenly leapt into view. It was bad enough that the story of the disaster would probably leak out and receive unwelcome publicity. If, in addition, large numbers of patients were evacuated, the whole Tacri scheme would be jeopardised. It would be an official admission of the unsuitability of Tacri. People would ask what was the use of developing a place that might continue to be dangerous. Of course, the contract was signed; the contractors couldn’t lose, and his money was safe. But the very last thing he wanted was to have the whole Tacri project re-examined.
Martin was pressing his demand. “Whatever you do about a general evacuation,” he said, “I’ll have to have those twenty-five patients out. That’s the minimum.”
“I think we must try to keep our heads,” said Garland. “In my view it would be much better to make temporary arrangements on the spot. We’ll send out some beds and equipment and you can put the displaced people in the administrative offices for the time being.”
“We can’t handle them,” repeated Martin firmly. “You’ve no idea of the disruption.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to try,” said Garland. “I’m sorry, but we can’t have them here. As for the bed cases——”
“Well?” asked Martin, with a dangerous glint in his eye.
Garland gave a little shrug. “You’ve got Mortimer to help you now. You ought to be able to manage. I would suggest clearing one of the residential huts for a temporary infirmary and doubling up somewhere else.”
Martin stared at Garland incredulously. “You can’t mean that,” he said. “As the medical officer in charge, I’m telling you it’s beyond the present capacity of the leprosarium to give those twelve patients the attention they need. Surely that’s a matter on which you must accept my judgment.”
“You’re a little shaken,” said Garland, “quite understandably, of course. For the moment I think a cooler judgment is required.”
“But——” Martin began. He was almost speechless with indignation. “Why, your attitude’s unbelievable. I tell you again, these patients need help that we can’t give them. They must come here. You don’t want to murder them, do you?”
Garland’s eyes had a frosty gleam. “Your choice of words is extreme. Once and for all, I am not going to have a panic evacuation from Tacri. Do you understand, that’s final! Perhaps these twelve can be brought over in a few days, when the excitement has died down. Anyhow, that’s my decision. Now perhaps we can get on with the arrangements.”
Martin’s chin went up. “I can’t accept your decision. It astounds me. I don’t understand your motives—that’s your affair—but I feel obliged to tell you that I regard your attitude as unprofessional and damnably inhuman.”
A dark flush rose in Garland’s face. “I won’t have you talk like that, West, do you hear? Who do you think you’re speaking to? If you can’t observe a little discipline, I shall know what steps to take.”
“You can take what steps you damn well like,” cried Martin. “I’m not intimidated. You leave me no alternative but to take the matter to the Colonial Secretary, and that’s what I propose to do—right now.”
“I forbid you to do anything of the sort.”
Martin got up. “I’m afraid you’re not the judge of men that I thought you were.”
Garland strode across the room and faced him, massive and formidable, his cold eyes full of menace. “You’ll do as you’re told, West, or live to regret it. Nobody has ever defied me in this department.”
“Then it’s time someone began,” said Martin. He gave his chief a searching look. “Frankly, I think you must be ill,” he added, and turned to go.
Garland fought with self-control. Surging anger struggled with common sense. He realised that he’d been a fool to behave in such a high-handed manner. He’d dealt too long with black men. He was bludgeoning where he ought to be subtle. He must be losing his grip. He couldn’t possibly let this fellow go to Anstruther.
“Wait a moment, West,” he called. “Perhaps I was a little hasty. Come and sit down.”
Martin, puzzled, returned slowly to his chair.
“As a matter of fact, you’re quite right,” said Garland, dabbing at his face and neck with a handkerchief. “I am feeling the strain of this job a bit. I apologise.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” murmured Martin uncomfortably. “I’m afraid I lost my temper too.”
“We’ll send a launch out this afternoon,” said Garland, “and bring your patients back right away. They can go in one of the old army huts behind the workhouse.”
Martin listened silently, wondering at Garland’s sudden change of attitude.
“I’ll tell Anstruther what’s happened,” Garland went on, “and what we’re doing about it. You get back to Tacri and hold the fort, and I’ll have the working party there by tea-time. We’ll have a bit of trouble getting attendants at short notice, but I’ll scrape them up from somewhere. You can leave the whole thing in my hands. I’ll come out myself tomorrow, and we’ll go over the place together. Of course, you realise that an incident of this kind couldn’t happen once Tacri is rebuilt?”
“If it ever is,” said Martin. “Most of the timber which was delivered is now floating in the Bay. The cement was dumped in the open and is probably useless. And the machinery for the new laundry is beginning to rust.”
“That’s bad,” said Garland. “Still, it’s the contractor’s concern.” He accompanied Martin to the door, quite affable now. “I hope,” he said, “we shall manage to avoid any sensational publicity about this affair. The press will leap on the incident if it gets the chance, and that won’t do the department or the leprosarium any good. Or the patients, for that matter. I’ll see that a brief statement goes out through the Information Office, and beyond that the less we say the better.”
Martin smiled wryly. “I don’t suppose anyone will come out to interview me on Tacri. I’ll see you to-morrow, then.”
Garland nodded, and closed the door after him. Alone, his affable expression faded. West had had his own way. He was a tough customer, in spite of his youth. And persistent. Always bringing up this question of Tacri. Never really accepting the situation. Still, this misfortune on the island would soon be forgotten; they’d get the mess cleared up quickly, and the bed patients could be sent back there as soon as a new hut had been put up. All the same, it was disturbing. And just when it seemed that everything was going smoothly at last. West’s remarks had been innocent enough—they must have been, but all the same the
re had been one or two that Garland hadn’t liked at all. “I don’t understand your motives——” —that had jarred. It would be a pretty dangerous thing if West started delving. Dangerous for West.
Chapter Twenty
Three weeks had passed since the great storm. Martin, feeling the need for relaxation after many arduous days, was sitting beside Susan in her speeding Lagonda. It was to be a busman’s holiday for him, for they were on their way to join the field party on the Spencers’ estate: Garland’s rural health drive had begun. Martin had been glad to accept the Health Secretary’s invitation to take part, for he wanted to see how such a campaign was organised in local conditions so that later on he might use similar machinery for a leprosy survey. Susan, always eager to learn something new, had offered her services as housekeeper to the party, and Garland had readily agreed. He would have preferred to have his wife along, but Celeste couldn’t bear the moist heat of the cocoa plantations and had shown no disposition to accompany him.
It was still early morning, and the clouds had not yet begun to mass for the customary midday downpour. The air was as hot and humid as the inside of a greenhouse, but it blew exhilaratingly enough past the open sports car. In spite of a considerable load of cares, Martin felt extremely cheerful. He enjoyed being with Susan. He hadn’t seen much of her—not nearly as much as he would have liked—but since his stay at the Anstruther home over Fiesta he had taken to dropping in whenever he was on an official visit to the mainland, and he and Susan had fallen into an easy comradeship. Martin admired the competent way she ran her father’s house, becoming neither submerged in domesticity nor confined by the narrow social life of the town. She had an independent character and a lively ranging mind. Her interests were far broader and more varied than those of most of the women he had met—and yet no one, he reflected, could look more feminine and attractive than Susan. No matter how much she rushed about, she was always well-groomed and cool. He wondered if his desire for her good opinion meant that he was falling in love with her.
Conversation was intermittent. Occasionally Susan would draw his attention to something she particularly wanted him to see, but the rush of air and the beat of the powerful engine made talking difficult. Martin was well content to sit beside her, soothed by a pleasant sense of companionship, and gaze out on the sights of a new country. This was the first time he had been outside Fontego City, and everything he saw was fascinating.
Susan negotiated one of the road’s infrequent bends and slowed as a road block came into view. “That must be for the broken bridge,” she said, turning off to the left along a minor road in obedience to the “Diversion” sign. “It’s really too bad the way nobody does anything here until it’s too late. Sylvester might have known it would fall down when the rains came. He was warned often enough.” She swung the car on to a level patch of grass beside a creaking bamboo. “What about a nice long drink?”
“Good idea,” said Martin. “I never say no to that.” He leaned over and handed Susan the picnic basket from the back. “I think you’ve been maligned,” he remarked. “You’re not nearly as reckless a driver as I’d been led to expect. How is your hand, by the way?”
Susan looked at the unsightly cross of sticking plaster. “It’s been giving a bit of trouble, actually, but I think it will be all right soon. Cuts don’t heal very well in this heat, I don’t know why.”
From the hamper she produced sandwiches and a large vacuum flask of iced lime-squash. Martin drank deep and gave a sigh of enjoyment. “Marvellous!” he said. “Wonderful stuff!” He put the glass down and took a sandwich. “You know, I was afraid I was going to miss this trip.”
“It didn’t look very promising for you after the storm, did it? How are things at Tacri now? How’s Mortimer shaping?”
“Oh, he’s all right as long as the place is running smoothly. It’s a great relief to have him.”
“Have you repaired all the damage?”
“More or less. I must hand it to Garland—he can certainly get things done when he wants to. He managed to lay hands on a really good foreman for the working party, and he came out himself three times to make sure that they weren’t slacking. I’ve never known such zeal. They ran up a new infirmary in eight days; an inadequate place, of course, but it holds the beds.”
“What happened about the evacuees?”
“One of them died, but I think he would have done so anyway. The rest have gone back.”
Susan regarded him thoughtfully. “You’re not very happy in your new job, are you?”
Martin sighed. “No,” he admitted. “It’s no use pretending I am. To tell you the truth, Susan, I don’t know what to do about it. It may sound feeble to you, I’m afraid, but I’ve a very good mind to resign.”
“As bad as that? Did the storm make all that difference?”
“Good Lord, no, not the storm. I’m prepared to believe that that was a freak. It’s simply that I can’t see the faintest hope of ever being able to do any decent work there. I don’t mind difficulties provided there’s a chance to grapple with them, but on Tacri there’s no chance. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said it was a hopeless place. Imagine how you’d feel if, you were asked to make a comfortable home at the bottom of a coal-mine. Well, that’s roughly how I feel about Tacri. There are some things that just don’t make sense and Tacri’s one of them. I chafe the whole time. I have a picture in my mind of the job I might be doing on the mainland, and I can’t persuade myself that it’s a dream. God, how I loathe that rock!”
“It is a shame,” said Susan.
“I suppose I ought to have made a greater fuss to start with,” said Martin, lighting a cigarette, “but when you’re new to a job you don’t like starting off with a thundering row. All the same, I believe now that it was a mistake even to give the place a trial.”
“Was it Daddy who persuaded you?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that. There didn’t seem to be any real alternative at the time. That’s probably still true. Think what it would mean if I really kicked over the traces. Virtually, I should have to present an ultimatum: ‘Close down Tacri or I go.’ Well, what happens then? Look at it from the Colony’s point of view. To cancel the contract would mean paying out a tremendous sum of money to the contractors in compensation, for absolutely no return. Garland would fight tooth and nail to save the scheme, and nobody else seems to care. I think he’d win.”
“Nobody else knows much,” said Susan. “You’d have to tell them all about it.”
Martin gave a little, smile. “I told your father, and, with all respect, he was for the path of least resistance.”
“Oh, I know he’s easy-going,” said Susan. “He’s a moderate, a conciliator. He doesn’t like rows, and anyway it’s his job to smooth them out. But he isn’t a bit happy about Tacri. If a row started in a really big way, if it was unavoidable, I’m sure he’d be on your side.”
“It would have to be in a big way to be worth while. But, Susan, it’s not my line of country. I’m a doctor, not an agitator. And that’s not all. I’m a civil servant, and etiquette is strict. I can’t move except through the usual channels, and you know what that means. A memorandum to Garland, passed on very reluctantly to your father, possibly passed on by your father to H.E., possibly referred by H.E. to the Colonial Office, and there almost certainly stuck in a pigeonhole. My resignation would be accepted with regret, a stooge would be appointed instead, and Tacri would go on. Don’t think I’m scared about resigning; I think it’ll come to that anyway. I’m just not convinced that it’ll do any good to make a fuss. And yet—I don’t know.”
“I think you’ll have to,” said Susan. “If what you’ve been saying all along about Tacri is right, then someone will have to, one day. It might just as well be you; you’ve got the urge. Why not draft a memorandum, anyway—you’ll feel better when you’ve written it all down, even if it doesn’t get you very far.”
“Will you read it?”
“Of course, if you’d like me
to. Do you feel you need support?”
Martin nodded. “I do, as a matter of fact. I’m rather isolated on Tacri, you know. There’s not much opportunity to make friends and influence people! You’re right, Susan—it will be a relief to write it down. Garland will be furious, of course. He’s got the devil of a temper.”
“So I’ve heard,” said Susan. “He’s always very polite to me.”
Martin laughed. “That’s no great strain.”
“Ah, but with him it’s a politeness of indifference. He’s so blinded by Celeste that all other women look like coconut palms to him. I don’t blame him—she is rather dazzling. Anyway, how are you getting on with him?”
Martin hesitated. “Ought I to talk to you about him?”
“Oh, don’t be so official. I promise not to chatter to Daddy.”
Martin regarded her dubiously. “You’re sure? It wouldn’t do, you know. Well—I think he’s pretty odd.”
“Is that so?” said Susan dryly. “Now I have a complete picture.” They both laughed. “What exactly do you mean by odd?”
“He strikes me as a bit of a Jekyll and Hyde.”
“Isn’t that rather melodramatic?”
“No, that’s my considered view. One side of him is admirable. He’s the quietly efficient administrator, doing a socially useful job with great zeal and not sparing himself. But there’s another side to him that you probably wouldn’t know about. When Tacri was hit by that storm, he flatly refused to evacuate the battered bed cases until I threatened to appeal to your father. He was afraid it would undermine public faith in the reconstruction scheme. He seems to have a positive bee in his bonnet about that scheme.”
Susan looked puzzled. “But I thought those patients were hurt and couldn’t be treated on the island.”
“So they were—that’s just the point. I’ve never been more staggered in my life. I was making a proposal that was so obviously necessary it just couldn’t be argued about, and he flew into a fearful rage about it. Honestly, he was quite prepared to let them stay on Tacri whether they could be treated or not. I can still hardly believe I didn’t dream it.”