by Isobel Chace
He grinned. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he answered mildly. “Not if you’re set on it.”
“I’m set on it,” she assured him.
It was the first time that Helen had been right across the Island. She was surprised by the variation of vegetation that they passed through. In the centre of the Island, there were quite a number of small farms, with pigs rooting through the scrubby trees and shabby dogs lazing in the hot sun. The palm trees, with their valuable crop, edged the Island, but didn’t really come very far inshore. Beneath them were a few giant tortoises that must have seen many hundreds of years to have achieved such a size. They staggered forward a few steps and then rested, summoning their strength for the next few feet. Above them exotic birds, dressed in green and lemon yellow, shattered the silence with their hideous screams.
There were no proper roads. Tracks ran from one settlement to another, sometimes fading out in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately the jeep was well able to cut across the rough ground and the four-wheel drive made it less likely to get stuck in the shifting coral sand as they neared the coast on the other side of the Island.
Helen thought she had never seen anywhere so beautiful as the bay where they came out. The green water lapped gently the dead white sands and overhead the languid palm trees nodded gently in the breeze. A coral reef almost completely enclosed the bay, but where the two arms met, a deep channel led out to the ocean beyond. The water there looked dark blue, the water was so much deeper than in the shallows of the bay. It was there, Helen thought, that the shark had entered and had come and gone as he pleased ever since.
Gregory parked the jeep on the edge of the white sand and stepped down on to the tough strands of grass that was fighting for a living beneath the palm trees. At the sound of his footsteps a hundred small crabs darted back and forth across the beach and disappeared into quickly made holes, only to reappear as soon as the danger had passed. Helen scuffed her feet in the sand as they walked across it, a little afraid that a crab might take a grab at her toes, but they were far more scared than she was and ran, with that curious sideways motion which is unique to them, as fast as they could in the opposite direction.
Na-Tinn was waiting for them. He was seated in a dug-out canoe that had a rather fragile outride strapped on to the edge of the boat. With the help of a shaped plank of wood, he could make it go where he would, darting through the calm green water and stopping just as suddenly.
“It’s still here, Boss,” he addressed Gregory.
Gregory grunted. Some of the men had dropped a net across the entrance to the bay, but he knew that if the shark was determined to break out the net would not be much use. The channel was, too deep. He stared in silence at the dark shape of the giant fish as it glided backwards and forwards across the bay. One black fin rose to the surface adding a touch of drama to the occasion. The men yelled and Na-Tinn waved his harpoon over his head, uttering some blood-curdling incantation as he did so.
“Well, what do you think?” Gregory said to Helen.
“I still think the cage is the best bet,” she answered thoughtfully.
He nodded. He waved to Na-Tinn to come ashore and explained what they were going to do.
None of the Polynesians were happy with the idea. They had always dealt with sharks in the same old way, with one of them as bait and the rest of the family as hunters. It was a personal thing between the shark and themselves. There was a demon in the shark and there was an age-old ritual for gaining power over that demon. Who knew if the new way would be as effective? Who knew if the demon would be appeased, or if he would go straight into another shark and then there would be another death, perhaps another after that? Could they take the risk? “You are our blood brother,” they protested to Gregory.
“That is why I am going to help you,” he replied imperturbably. “We tried the other way for most of the night, didn’t we?”
The crowd that had gathered at the edge of the sand muttered amongst themselves and, for a moment, Helen thought they were going to refuse to make the cage that Gregory was asking for. But there was an old man there who could remember that once before, a long time before, they had dealt with sharks by, using a cage. His tired eyes surveyed Gregory with the calm of old age and then fell on Helen. He pointed at her excitedly and she nodded, grasping his hands in greeting.
“He must remember my father!” she exclaimed.
“Very likely,” Gregory agreed. He talked to the old man and the old one grinned at Helen. In a few minutes the men had started to make the cage, binding bamboo sticks together with twine. At best it was a rather ramshackle affair, but Helen thought that it would serve its purpose and give the shark something to tangle with before it reached the bait inside. She had few illusions however at what the shark could do with its wicked jaws and the shattering blows it could deliver with its tail. No cage would last long if the shark had other ideas.
“I wish you’d let me be the bait,” she sighed to Gregory. “I’d feel a great deal happier if you were around with a harpoon in your hand!”
Taine-Mal heard her and grinned. He turned quickly to his brother, but Na-Tinn was adamant. “It’s a family matter!” he insisted.
“I told you so!” Gregory said in an undertone to Helen.
“If you can become a member of the family, I don’t see why I shouldn’t!” she retorted.
The Polynesian men had a lengthy discussion while they were finishing making the cage. Helen couldn’t understand a word of what they were saying, but she did understand the sideways looks they gave her, considering her proposal and what it would mean.
“It looks as though you’ve persuaded them,” Gregory said to her. “Sure you want to go through with it? There’s still time to change your mind!”
“I’m quite sure,” she said seriously.
The men nodded their agreement. “You must be family,” Na-Tinn told her.
Helen nodded. She didn’t mind the prick in her wrist. She had her eyes tight shut and was hardly aware of when they did it. When she opened them again, she was surprised that it was Gregory who was standing beside her, and Gregory’s wrist that they bound close against hers so that their blood would mingle, joining them together for all time. The place where they had cut her smarted for a few seconds and then they cut her loose.
“You now family,” Na-Tinn said with satisfaction.
Helen flexed her fingers to restore her circulation. They had tied her very tightly to Gregory and she had pins and needles in her hand. “I’m glad,” she smiled at them.
“I never thought to have you as my sister,” Gregory commented, an amused smile hovering round his lips.
“I hadn’t thought to have a brother either!” she retorted.
“Don’t take advantage of my brotherly feelings,” he warned her. “I’m still your employer, don’t forget.”
“As if I could!” she answered demurely.
He helped her into the cage. She was surprised to see that he was far more nervous than she. She had a strong urge to comfort him, to tell him that nothing was going to happen, but she was tongue-tied and stupid and couldn’t think of anything to say that he might not misunderstand. Na-Tinn and Taine-Mal made a dash for the frail-looking outrigger canoes, pushing them out from the silver shore.
“We tow you out now,” they told her.
She nodded, talking a deep breath as the water covered her limbs. Her wrist was smarting again and she couldn’t help wondering if the smell of blood would reach the shark before they were ready. She tried to keep calm, to remember all the victorious stories her father had told her. No shark ever defeated him, she thought with pride. He had known their thinking processes and exactly how they would react in any given circumstance. But did she? Had she been right to set such a trap with herself as the bait and only three men with outdated and almost useless harpoons to protect her?
The Polynesians let go of the ropes and she trod water gently, surveying the world through the bamboo bars that prote
cted her. Na-Tinn held his harpoon close in beside him, his eyes flicking here and there across the water. Taine-Mal slipped overboard into the water, his knife gleaming and ready to do battle. But where was Gregory? Helen felt a moment’s panic when she couldn’t see him. She turned and twisted in the water, searching for him, only to find him close beside her, his harpoon firmly grasped in his hand.
“Are you sure that thing works?” she asked him with a marked lack of confidence.
“It works!” he reassured her. “Look out now, it’s over there on your left!”
She glanced where he was pointing, marvelling at his calmness. “It’s coming pretty close,” she whispered.
“Isn’t that the idea?” he answered in such normal tones that she was ashamed of her own fears.
“Well, of course it is!” she said rather heartily. She dropped down under the water, opening her eyes and trying to adjust to the green haze of the water. She could make out the giant dark shape of the shark quite well, coming closer and closer even while she watched. Its great snapping jaws made her shiver and she was suddenly concerned, not for herself, but for Gregory, swimming so closely beside her and without the protection of the cage.
She surfaced and flipped her wet hair back out of her eyes. “Why doesn’t Na-Tinn attack?” she cried out. “If he lets it get much closer it’ll be too late!”
“Hush up now,” Gregory said grimly, all his concentration directed on the great fish of the sea. He signalled with his hand to Na-Tinn to come in closer, until the shark had to swim between them to get to the cage. Taine-Mal stood up in his fragile craft, ready to dive in and help finish off the beast.
Helen heard the crack of the harpoon being fired and the whirring of the rope as it sprang through the air. It caught the shark amidships and its great tail thrashed the water as it tried to escape. A second later Na-Tinn had released his harpoon also, but it missed the writhing fish and hit the edge of the cage just beside where Helen was treading water, moving as little as she could to disturb their aim. She heard the Polynesian swear and recoil the rope as fast as he could. He would never make it in time, she knew that! The great fish was coming nearer and nearer. With one sweep of its mighty tail it could break up the cage and she had nothing with which to protect to herself. She prayed that Gregory would be able to hold it away from her, but the harpoon was so old and inadequate that she doubted it.
She didn’t see Taine-Mal go into battle with his knife in his hand, reaching down to the belly of the shark and stabbing it with vicious strokes. She did see the shark turn and snap at its new attacker and then a new danger presented itself. She was horrified to see that Gregory had turned his back on the proceedings, hanging on to the harpoon with all his might. Another few inches and the shark’s jaws would reach him.
“Look out!” she shouted vainly, knowing that he couldn’t hear her. She rattled the bamboo bars of her cage to try and distract the shark, but she was too late. Gregory received a great gash down the whole length of his leg and she could see his blood flowing freely into the water. He let go of the harpoon just as the shark snapped at him again, but this time the fish was too slow. Taine-Mal slit its throat as it turned, keeping below the fish the whole time, and in that second Na-Tinn released his harpoon a second time and dragged the dying fish away from Gregory, away from the cage, and into the shallows where his family were waiting.
Helen broke out of the cage with her bare hands. She was oblivious of the scratches she received from the rough bamboo. Her only care was to reach Gregory as quickly as she could. He was hurt, for all she knew he was dying, and she was completely helpless, being kept from him by a barrier of her own contriving. When she had broken free, Taine-Mal had already taken Gregory into his canoe and was looking with horror at the long, angry wound that ran right down his thigh and leg.
Helen swam to the canoe and pulled herself level with Gregory’s ashen face. “It’ll need a few stitches,” he said faintly. “Did we get him?”
She nodded, quite unable to speak. It would be weeks before Gregory’s leg would be well enough for him to dive again. She looked at the long gash, feeling rather sick.
“We’ll have to get you to a doctor,” she said.
Taine-Mal nodded. “Plenty good doctor waiting on sand,” he told her cheerfully. “Boss be quite all right, you see!” He grinned cheerfully. “Got shark!” he added joyfully. “Plenty celebration tonight!”
But Helen was beyond caring about the shark. She helped to ease Gregory out of the canoe and on to the fine white sand. She was terrified that the powdered coral would get into the wound and turn it septic. She had visions of him losing his leg and was horrified to find that she was crying.
The doctor was quite unlike any other doctor she had ever seen. He was dressed in no more than a tribal skirt, with his chest and arms naked and as smooth as a woman’s. He sat down cross-legged beside his patient and prepared an injection which he unceremoniously plunged into Gregory’s thigh. Helen watched him threading a needle as calmly as if he were seated in a European hospital with every facility at his command and gritted her teeth to keep back the protests that rose unbidden to her lips.
“Is it painful?” she asked, her voice hoarse with emotion.
The doctor grinned cheerfully at her. “Not painful, no!” he laughed. “Not painful at all! Look, Mr. de Vaux has fainted!”
Helen swallowed, scared that she too would pass out, and the doctor began the lengthy task of sewing up the long wound as casually as if he were sewing up a rent in a pair of trousers.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“HE’S a mighty skinny-looking fellow, but he’ll live!” said the doctor.
Helen was shocked. “Skinny?” she repeated.
The doctor grinned. “Can you drive the jeep?” he asked her. “You’d better get him settled in at the hotel before he comes round. That leg’ll pain him for a day or two yet.”
“Skinny!” Helen said again.
“So he is!” the doctor said again. “Now, look at any Polynesian and you’ll see what a man ought, to look like. When he sits on the ground, he should rise up from it like a mountain with his head at the peak. He’s skinny!” He said it with wry affection, carefully easing Gregory’s unconscious form into the back of the jeep.
Certainly the doctor filled out his own prescription, Helen thought. He was a mountain of a man all right! Has thighs were enormous and his whole body was thick and soft. Only his face held a touch of austerity, his black eyes flickering intelligently behind yet more rolls of fat.
“I wish the road were better,” Helen sighed.
The doctor nodded. “I’ll sit in the back and hold him,” he said.
“And the shark?” Na-Tinn interrupted suddenly. “You must take the shark back with you. Missie Corrigan will need for party!”
Helen would have refused to take the monstrous fish. Even now, when it was dead and still, she was afraid if its great jaws. But her word counted for nothing in the face of their exuberant whoops of joy as they loaded the shark on to the passenger seat beside her, head downwards and with its great tail waving backwards and forwards as they jolted along the tracks that served for roads on the Island. If it fell out, Helen thought, she wouldn’t be able to bring herself to touch it. She disliked everything about it, including its colour.
“Gently now, he’s coming round,” the doctor warned her.
Helen slowed almost to a stop, glancing over her shoulder at Gregory. He looked very ill to her. His face was the colour of putty and his normally firm face was slack. The sight of him smote her like a physical blow. Why should she care so much? But she did, so it was no good going on about it, she chided herself. Now was the time for her to be calm and collected and to make things as easy as she could for him.
She gritted her teeth. “It isn’t far now,” she said.
The smell of the shark beside her was strong and unpleasant. It was curious, she thought, how all species had their own distinctive smell and how one grew used to the
ones that surrounded one all the time and was easily revolted by those which were strange. She half-hoped that the shark would fall out of the jeep and leave her in peace, but it had been wedged in too securely. Only the tail waved to and fro as they travelled on across the Island and just occasionally it came so close to her head that she could feel it against her hair. She shivered. She was beginning to be obsessed by the shark’s grim, grinning face, and the putty look on Gregory’s. The doctor looked barely competent to her. She just hoped that he knew what he was doing, moving Gregory at all! Though what else he could have done, she couldn’t have said.
The hotel looked large and familiar and comfortably Western. When it came in sight, Helen unconsciously relaxed. She put her foot down hard on the accelerator and the jeep shot forward the last few yards down the road towards the only skyscraper that the Islands could boast.
Miss Corrigan came running out of the hotel, almost as if she had been watching for their arrival. Her eyes fell immediately on the shark. “Oh, it’s a big one!” She said ecstatically. “Just the thing for my party!”
Helen forbore to say that she for one would be quite unable to eat a single bite of the loathsome fish. “Gregory is hurt,” she said.
Miss Corrigan peered through her short-sighted eyes into the jeep. When she saw Gregory’s leg her gasp was quite audible. “The poor boy!” she exclaimed. “The poor boy! We must get him inside at once.” Her hand rested for an instant on the doctor’s naked shoulder. “I’m so glad you were there,” she said with real feeling. “The poor boy!”
The doctor grinned, revealing fine even teeth. “He’ll do now he’s in your care!” he told her. “I suppose the hotel has a room?”
Miss Corrigan laughed. “How can you ask? You must know that it’s still empty except for us! That’s naughty of you!”