Wealth of the Islands

by Isobel Chace

  Anita looked astonished. “And didn’t your mother mind?” she asked.

  “It wasn’t that kind of relationship,” Helen said dryly. “Miss Corrigan was old enough to be his mother!”

  “Oh—oh, I see!” Anita laughed. “I hadn’t thought of that. I know so little about your family really. You don’t mind my asking, do you?”

  Helen reassured her with a smile. “Why should I?” she said.

  But the knowledge that Miss Corrigan had once collaborated with her father did not seem to have raised her status much in Anita’s eyes. She was kind and she was patient whenever the old lady was speaking, but she showed no signs of wanting to converse with her herself. On the contrary, she soon relapsed into silence, only addressing the occasional remark when it was absolutely necessary to Helen, but otherwise saying nothing at all. Helen hoped that Miss Corrigan had not noticed. She made a valiant attempt at keeping the conversation going while they sipped their drinks out on the terrace. Once or twice she caught Miss Corrigan’s twinkly gaze resting on her and roused herself to think of yet more things to say. She could have wished, she thought, that Miss Corrigan herself would make a greater effort, but the old lady only sat back in her chair and watched the two girls from behind her drink, occasionally smiling to herself as if she possessed some private joke which was amusing her very much.

  “I can tell Anita is Michael’s sister,” she said to Helen quite suddenly, when Anita had gone inside to fetch herself some insect repellant in a vain attempt to protect herself from the hundred and one flying insects that dive-bombed the lights and had a particular delight in biting or stinging her fair, pale flesh. “She has the same surface charm. Not so well developed as her brother’s, but then I don’t suppose she’s had the same practice.”

  Helen stirred uncomfortably, making her chair creak in her embarrassment. “She’s a very shy person,” she said tentatively.

  “Nonsense, my dear,” the old lady said roundly. “How could she be shy at her age? I suspect you know more about shyness than she does! It will be interesting, though, to see what she turns into away from her mother.”

  It seemed to Helen that she might just as well have been discussing a caterpillar and what kind of butterfly it would become. “I’m very fond of Anita,” she said crossly.

  “Oh, quite!” Miss Corrigan agreed vaguely. Her eyes lit up as Peter Harmon came out on to the terrace to join them, carrying the evening’s menu in his hand. “Peter,” she greeted him, “come and join us and meet the new arrival!”

  The American smiled and nodded. He drew up a chair and sat on the edge of it, ill at ease and without much hope of anything else. “She has arrived, then?” he said.

  Anita came back on to the terrace, her eyes widening as she saw Peter. Watching her, Helen saw her hesitate and gather herself together. How strange, she thought, that anyone’s facial expression could change so completely in a few seconds. And yet it had. Gone was the tired patience with which Anita had endured Miss Corrigan; now there was only interest and a faint, becoming colour that came and went as easily as she breathed.

  “My, you must be Mr. Harmon?” she said, excitement bubbling through her voice.

  “That’s right, ma’am,” Peter agreed. He held out his hand and swallowed nervously. “I hope you will be comfortable here,” he added professionally.

  Helen’s eyes strayed to Miss Corrigan who was looking over her shoulder at the French windows that led out on to the terrace. She was surprised to see Gregory sauntering out towards them, immaculately dressed in a dinner jacket and black tie. He bowed slightly towards Helen, pointing down at his neatly polished shoes, and then he gave all his attention to Miss Corrigan, lightly kissing her on the hand.

  “Well, as you can see, I came,” he smiled down at her.

  Miss Corrigan grunted with satisfaction. “So I should hope!” she told him gruffly, “As a reward you can take Helen in to dinner!”

  Gregory sat down easily on the nearest chair, grinning at all of them. “I can see we’re all set for a truly civilised evening!” he said lightly.

  Miss Corrigan reached out and slapped him on the knee. “Hush!” she said. “It doesn’t do you any harm to dress properly now and then.” She smiled with a sudden, flirtatious charm that was oddly appealing. “Don’t you want to set our hearts a-quiver?”

  Helen liked the way he immediately responded to the old lady, but then charm was not something that Gregory had ever lacked for any female.

  “I’m flattered, Ethel,” he murmured, and he looked it. “I’m really flattered. I didn’t think you’d noticed I’ve been sweet talking you ever since I got here!”

  The old lady crowed with pleasure. “Get along with you!” she said. “You can save that sort of remark for those young enough to enjoy it!”

  Gregory leaned right forward, still smiling lazily at her. “That’s why I picked you,” he told her. “Didn’t you know?”

  Helen was shocked to find that her hands were clenched in her lap. Why, she thought, she was downright jealous! But then she remembered that she knew all about charm and despised it. Michael had been charming. Surely she wasn’t going to be bluffed a second time. If anyone knew that charm was skin deep and not worth considering, surely it was she!

  CHAPTER SIX

  ANITA was still asleep when Helen tore herself out of bed and began to get ready for the day’s work ahead of her. It had been a wonderful evening. Peter had excelled himself by finding a number of local dishes for them to sample and approve. He had refused to serve turtle soup, but he had agreed to using their eggs. They had tasted stronger than any other egg Helen had ever had and were enclosed in leathery, rather brittle shells. A single turtle would lay many, many eggs in a season. The dangerous time for the turtle was when they hatched out and the minute turtles made their first dash for the sea. Then they were the prey of every passing bird and often of the islanders too who had a fancy for them. Miss Corrigan had told them all about them. There had been pineapples too, yams and asparagus, and quite a number of things Helen had been unable to put a name to. She had enjoyed them all, though, just as she had enjoyed the impromptu dance afterwards.

  Gregory had danced with all three of them in turn. It might have been Helen’s fancy that he had been more formal with her than he had been with Anita, but it was certain that the only time he had really relaxed had been with Miss Corrigan. And how the old lady could dance! Why, that had put both the younger girls in the shade! Helen grinned at the memory. Seeing Miss Corrigan doing the Charleston or the Black Bottom had been a sight she wouldn’t forget in a long, long time!

  The Polynesian waiter served her with fresh orange juice, eggs and bacon, and coffee, with a sleepy air that told that he had been up late as well. Helen greeted him cheerfully and was pleased to note that his teeth were perfectly normal and had not been filed to suit any peculiar fashion.

  “How you getting on out there?” he asked her as she sat down at the table.

  “It will take time,” Helen told him. “It’s partly the angle of the ship. If we jolt her, she might fall off the ledge and be lost for ever, so we’re having to be rather careful. But we’ll get the gold, don’t you worry!”

  The waiter shrugged his ample shoulders. “I’m not worried,” he said gently. “I had my gold many years ago. When I was small I went up the trees, but now I work for the hotel instead. Everything American and convenient. Much better!”

  She joined in his laughter. “I should think it’s much safer!” she said.

  “Oh yes,” he agreed. “Climbing the trees is a young man’s work” He went into the kitchens, leaving her to finish her breakfast alone. She did so as quickly as possible and then got up to go, gathering her things together so that she could hold them in one hand as she sauntered through the village towards the jetty.

  There was silence on the Sweet Promise when she got there. She jumped on board and went below, to stow away her things. The saloon was in turmoil and the door that led into the fi
rst of the two small cabins firmly shut. Helen wondered whether she should try to sort out the papers that had been left all over the table. As far as she could see there was no kind of order to them, but it was unlike Gregory to leave chaos anywhere unless there was some purpose to it. She went up on deck once again and tried to find Na-Tinn and Maine-Tal, but there was no sign of either of them. At least, she thought, the thudding of her feet on the deck above his head ought to waken Gregory.

  But when, a quarter of an hour later, there was still no sign of movement, Helen went down below again and hammered on the door that separated the cabins from the saloon.

  “Hey!” she called out. “Gregory! Are you there! Where is everyone?”

  There was no answer immediately, but then she heard Gregory’s voice saying, “Shan’t be a sec. Shove the coffee on, will you?”

  Helen did as she was told, sitting primly on the edge of a seat as she watched the dark liquid come to the boil. When Gregory appeared a minute later, she was surprised to see him still in his pyjamas.

  “What a night!” he grunted.

  “It was quite pleasant,” Helen agreed coldly.

  “You don’t know the half of it! That was just the beginning. Have you any idea what time I got to bed?”

  Helen shook her head, a glimmer of a smile in her eyes. He looked so different when he was in need of a shave and his hair was standing on end.

  “It couldn’t have been more than an hour ago!” he grumbled. He plonked a couple of mugs on the table and poured the coffee into them. “I suppose the men aren’t here yet either?” he yawned.

  “No,” Helen said.

  He grinned at her. “You’re full of disapproval this morning,” he told her.

  “Wouldn’t you be?” she retorted sweetly. “Imagine how it would be if I overslept and wasn’t ready to leave when you were? What a fuss you’d make! And it would all be because I was a woman!”

  “Very likely!” he said sourly.

  “Well then?” she challenged him.

  “Well, I spent most of the night on the other side of the island,” he explained wearily. “A fisherman was taken by a shark just outside the reef yesterday and his relatives want to get the shark. It’s a matter of honour with them.”

  “I know,” Helen said flatly.

  He looked at her with renewed interest. “Ah yes,” he said thoughtfully, “your father had to with that, didn’t he?”

  Helen nodded. “It was a part of his work. What are they doing to get the shark?”

  “It’s a family matter. The nearest male relative of the man taken has to get the shark. It’s as simple as that.” Gregory sighed. “His relatives all help him, of course.”

  Helen went white. “And Na-Tinn and Taine-Mal—?”

  “Are close relations,” Gregory said flatly.

  “Ah,” said Helen, “so that’s what it has to do with you!”

  Gregory smiled ruefully. “I’m their blood brother,” he admitted. “So, you see, it has rather a lot to do with me.”

  “What are you going to do?” Helen asked him simply.

  Gregory ran his fingers through his tousled hair. “Have another go later on.” He laughed shortly. “They’re using me for bait. It’s a novel sensation, I must say!”

  Helen’s eyes widened. “As bait!” she repeated. “Surely not! What do you have to do?”

  “Stand absolutely still!”

  “Is that all?”

  “It’s all I do,” he said ruefully. “Na-Tinn swims round with a harpoon that he made himself in one hand and Taine-Mal has a knife, I believe. I haven’t actually seen it!”

  Helen was more shaken then she liked to admit. “I suppose you have some shark repellent?” she asked too casually to be convincing.

  “My dear girl, I’m the bait! The idea is that I should attract the monster, not repel him!”

  Helen sighed, thinking back to the stories her father had told her of dealing with sharks all over the world. “Why don’t you use a cage?” she said suddenly.

  “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “that’s quite an idea. How about your cooking my breakfast while I get dressed and then we’ll go across and see what can be done?”

  “All right,” Helen agreed.

  He disappeared into the cabin. “You get better all the time!” he shouted at her, through the almost closed door.

  “Thanks,” she said dryly.

  He stuck his head round the door and grinned at her. “Now, now, there’s no need to get prickly. I wasn’t referring to your sex for once! I really mean it, Helen Hastings. Man or woman, I’m glad to have you on board!”

  Helen could feel herself blushing. A great wave of burning colour rose into her face and she turned away quickly before he could see it. What a fool he would think her! She was mad with herself, furious that she should be such a ninny! She was annoyed, too, that her hands shook ominously as she broke some eggs into a pan and scrambled them for his breakfast. It was something, though, that she had calmed down by the time he had finished dressing and she was sure that she looked quite normal when he slid into the seat opposite her and she piled the food on to his plate, watching carefully to see that she didn’t spill any of it.

  “If we had a cage,” she went on, just as if he had said nothing at all, “you could put me in it as bait and then there would be three of you to fight the shark.”

  His eyes met hers and she could feel herself blushing again. “I don’t think it would do,” he told her. “It’s a family matter.”

  Helen sat down, the saucepan still in her hand. “It’s not just an idle offer,” she said seriously. “If you can be a blood brother, I suppose there’s no reason why I shouldn’t be a blood sister, is there? The smell of blood will bring the shark quicker than anything else. My father always said that it was fatal to dive amongst sharks if you had so much as a scratch on you.”

  “Look,” he said, “I hate to remind you of it, seeing that you are so touchy about it, but you are a woman. This is man’s work.”

  She held her head up high. “Who said?” she demanded.

  “I just said it!” he retorted.

  She gave him such a hurt and bewildered look that his own expression softened. “You can’t bear to stay away from trouble, can you?”

  “Something like that,” she admitted. “I’m not being stupid. I’ve heard my father on the subject many times, you know. I probably know better than you do all the dangers and what has to be done.”

  “Could be,” he agreed readily enough. “It isn’t only that though to be considered. The whole thing is hallowed by tradition in the Islands. We can’t interfere with that!”

  “Why not?” she pleaded.

  “Because it isn’t what we’re here for,” he insisted.

  She could see the justice of that. “All right,” she said. “But I’m coming with you! I must be able to do something, surely?”

  Gregory nodded his agreement. He was busy eating the eggs and toast she had prepared for him and he was more relaxed than, she had ever seen him before. Lines of tiredness etched out his eyes in his face and she was surprised to notice one or two silver hairs at his temples. He looked too young to her to be going grey, but when she thought about his age, she realised that he must be in his late thirties. He could probably give her nearly ten years, she thought, not without pleasure, and her a widow-woman with her married life behind her!

  When he had finished, he went into his cabin to fetch his hat and an ancient harpoon that was the only weapon he kept on board. Helen, when she saw it, dismissed it firmly as being quite useless, and so it was when she compared it to the sophisticated weapon her father had used.

  “It’s better than Na-Tinn’s,” Gregory told her cheerfully.

  “I can’t wait to see what his must be like!” she retorted dryly.

  Gregory grinned. “It barely exists,” he agreed. “But it’s remarkable what they can do to a shark with the tools they have. There aren’t many man-eaters which have got aw
ay.”

  And this one wouldn’t! Helen knew that now. She could see the glint of determination in Gregory’s eyes and she knew quite well, that although it was none of her business, the same light was shining in her own eyes. This was something she knew about, something that she could do, and nothing and nobody was going to stop her.

  Gregory jumped down on to the jetty and turned to help her follow him. His touch on her arm was firm and did much to stop the sudden nervousness that had overtaken her. He smiled at her briefly. “I left the jeep beside the hotel. It’s the best way of getting across the Island.”

  She nodded, not trusting her voice not to break if she said anything. The village, as they passed through it, was not the friendly place of yesterday, or even of that morning. The children stood in groups watching Gregory as he strode through the huts towards the hotel. They huddled together in search of comfort and it was obvious that the news of the shark had just reached them. It was a matter for the whole Island. Their whole lives were spent in and out of the sea that surrounded their homes. If one of them was taken by a shark, they knew they were all in danger. There was no other way, once a shark had tasted blood he had to die, and they had their own way of going about such things. All of them knew that Na-Tinn and Taine-Mal were the next of kin to the man who had been killed and that Gregory was their blood brother. Awed and frightened, they watched him pass between them, knowing the battle that was to come.

  Helen shivered as they climbed into the jeep. “Cold?” Gregory asked her. She shook her head. “Someone walking over my grave,” she said lightly.

  He looked at her long and seriously. “Sure you want to come?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Just you try and keep me away!” she said impulsively.