The White Witch of the South Seas

by Dennis Wheatley

  After the siesta they paid their delayed visit to the Library. The chief librarian proved to be a charming and cultured man who spoke several languages. Willingly he shuffled through the piles of yellowed parchment records until he turned up an entry made in 1796.

  In the autumn of that year a thirty-six-gun ship, the Reina Maria Amalia, had sailed from Lima for Manila. On board had been a newly-appointed Bishop of the Philippines and the long overdue funds—then eighteen months in arrears—for the payment of the administration of the colony and its garrison. The ship had taken on water and provisions at Tahiti and again at Bau in the Fijis. After that no more had been heard of her; so it had been presumed that she had struck a reef and gone down with all hands.

  Gregory smiled at James. ‘Congratulations, my boy. You are proved right that she had a cargo of gold aboard; and a big one. By 1796 the Spaniards had been established in the Philippines for over two hundred years; so it was then no little outpost of Empire but a large and thriving colony. In addition to the back-pay of a year and a half, it is reasonable to assume that enough money was sent to keep the place going for another year or more. With the price of gold today, it must amount to a tremendous sum. No doubt the delay in sending supplies had something to do with the wars of the French Revolution.’

  James beamed back. ‘I felt convinced of it. And the Bishop’s presence on board would explain the chalice and other religious objects that had fallen from the burst chest.’

  The elderly librarian gave Gregory a speculative look and said, ‘I find it interesting that, while no enquiries have been made about the Reina Maria Amalia for many years, I should have received three in the past two months.’

  Turning to him, Gregory asked, ‘Could you give us the names of the people who have made enquiries, or describe them?’

  ‘The first came here in December. He was a tall, powerfully built Frenchman, with a fair, flowing moustache. The other’s visit was more recent—early in January. He was a shortish, middle-aged Brazilian. But I do not recall the name of either.’

  Gregory nodded. ‘Thank you. I’m not altogether surprised. Now that modern diving apparatus enables previously inaccessible valuables to be brought up, quite a number of people are interesting themselves in wrecks sunk in the Caribbean and other places.’

  During the hour that followed, the librarian showed them his great treasure—the third oldest printing press in the New World—and his fine library which contained many rare editions; then he took them round the adjacent museum, which housed a fascinating collection of ancient artillery pieces, Spanish armour and Indian weapons.

  As they left the building, they paused for a few moments in the shade of its long, low, graceful arcade before crossing the sunlit square; and Gregory remarked, ‘It is very understandable that Lacost should have come here to make certain that the Maria Amalia really was carrying a cargo of gold, before scraping together the money needed for an attempt to salvage it. But I find the second enquiry puzzling.’

  ‘That must have been made by Mauá de Carvalho,’ said James. ‘We know that he came up to Guatemala from Brazil early in January, and the description fits.’

  ‘Oh, it was de Carvalho without a doubt. But why, having verified that there was gold in the ship, should he have gone to such pains to persuade us that ships carrying any quantity of treasure never crossed the Pacific? And that was after he had been here, you will remember.’

  James shrugged. ‘To take that line was the only way he could save face after Olinda had accused him of having been scared off by that woman.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Gregory said thoughtfully. ‘But he came up here after, not before, he had been threatened. That’s what strikes me as queer. Why should he have done that if he had already decided to throw in his hand?’

  ‘He may have had to come to Guatemala in the course of his normal business,’ Manon suggested, ‘and, happening to be in Antigua for a night, made his enquiry only out of curiosity.’

  As that seemed the most likely explanation, they pursued the subject no further and returned to the hotel.

  Over drinks they discussed their next move. James pointed out that it had now developed into a race between themselves and the Colons: so they ought to get to Tujoa as soon as possible, in order to be first in the field.

  But Gregory objected that they could do nothing until they had secured salvaging machinery. Therefore they ought to go to Fiji; as being the most likely place in that area of the Pacific to procure it.

  Manon was aware that Lacost had already hired the necessary pontoons and crane in Tahiti and would by now have been on his way to Tujoa with them, had not her cable from Rio brought him to Antigua for the purpose of scaring Gregory out of the game. Moreover, the Colons had at least a clear day’s start. They would, of course, have further to bring their salvaging equipment; but, even so, by the time Gregory had secured his in Fiji and reached Tujoa with it, she thought it highly probable that he would find Lacost’s party already at work. But, naturally, she said nothing.

  James left them to go to the office to find out about air flights. When he came back he said, ‘As I thought, the only direct service from Central America to Fiji is the QANTAS flight, which leaves Mexico City every Saturday. There is a PANAM flight from Guatemala City at six-forty-five tomorrow evening, which gets us to Mexico City at nine-five but we’ll have to spend two days there.’

  Gregory nodded. ‘We’ll get off a telegram to QANTAS right away, and telephone the PANAM people in Guatemala first thing tomorrow morning.’

  At ten o’clock on the Tuesday they left for Guatemala City. As they had previously arrived there after dark, they had not so far seen it, so they spent an hour driving round. It had a fine central square and the National Museum was so admirably arranged that it would have been a credit to any country; but otherwise they were not impressed. There were few old buildings and the area outside the immediate city centre seemed to consist of endless, sprawling suburbs, with one exception—a splendid, broad, tree-lined boulevard that ran through the best residential district. Out there they lunched at the Biltmore Hotel. Behind it lay a fine big swimming pool and they had their lunch beside it, under a striped umbrella; then, as it was intensely hot, they lazed away the rest of the afternoon there.

  Their short flight to Mexico City was uneventful, but when they came down at the air terminal they found it a scene of utter chaos. No fewer than four large jet aircraft had landed there within the hour; so the Customs and Immigration departments were a seething mass of between two and three hundred people.

  Having at last secured their luggage, they drove to the El Presidente Hotel, where Gregory had stayed on a previous occasion. Fortunately he had made a good friend of the manager, as the desk clerk told them that the hotel was full. But, on being sent for, the manager came to their rescue and fixed them up, although Gregory had to share a room with James.

  The following day, having learned to their relief from the QANTAS office that they had seats on the flight to Fiji, they spent the time renewing their acquaintance with the splendid modern city. Then, after an early dinner on the Saturday, they drove out to the airport.

  When their baggage and passports had been checked they went into the departure lounge. As Gregory thought quite a possibility, Lacost and Corbin were standing there, obviously about to fly out on the same plane.

  The faces of both showed almost comical surprise as they caught sight of Gregory and James. Corbin made a movement as though about to take to his heels in panic; but Lacost recovered swiftly, grabbed his companion by the arm, said something to him in a low voice then, without the least embarrassment, walked up to Gregory and greeted him with a toothy smile.

  ‘I had thought, Monsieur Sallust, that our meeting on Lake Atitlan was to be our last. Had it not been so brief, I could have saved your heirs the cost of this journey you are obviously about to make to the South Seas. That you are making it shows that you are slow to learn; but, since you insist on tempting fortune, I
can promise you one thing.’

  Turning on his heel, he threw a twisted smile over his shoulder and added, ‘You won’t need the return half of your ticket.’

  8

  Of Cannibals and Paradise

  As Lacost moved away, James’ dark eyes flashed with anger and he shot out a great hand to grab the Colon by the shoulder. But Gregory was quicker. With a swift movement he knocked up James’ arm and said sharply:

  ‘Don’t act like a fool! If you start a brawl here it would lead to our all being pulled in by the police and we’d miss the aircraft. With luck we’ll get him in a quiet corner sometime. Provided there’s no risk of your being found out, I won’t lift a finger then to prevent you from strangling the swine. He’s asked for it by killing that poor boatman.’

  On seeing Lacost approach, Manon had kept her eyes averted, fearful lest anger at finding her two companions still alive should lead him, in a fit of spite, to disclose that she was his mistress and that they had been working together. Having heard him utter his new threat, she was greatly tempted again to urge Gregory to abandon his plans while there was still time. But, knowing that almost certainly it would be useless, she resisted it and decided to hold her fire until they were in Fiji.

  Twenty minutes later they boarded the aircraft. The economy section was full, but the first-class compartment, in which Gregory had asked for seats, half empty. As the Colons were travelling economy, the two parties did not even see each other again until they arrived in Tahiti soon after half past five the following morning. Dawn was coming up and the mountains behind the airport provided a wonderful backdrop. Lacost and Corbin disappeared into the Customs, while Gregory and his friends went into the cafeteria to revive themselves, after their night flight, with coffee laced with cognac.

  There, Manon ran into a woman she had known well during the months she had lived on Tahiti; she was about to take a plane for Hawaii, where she intended to settle permanently. The friend said that, since Manon had left, conditions in Tahiti had worsened considerably.

  Not only were they still saddled with thousands of down-at-heel, often dangerous, Colons, but de Gaulle was now using the island as the headquarters of his nuclear-bomb experiments in the Pacific. Why he should require such great numbers of troops for security purposes no-one could imagine, but he had recently increased the garrison of the island by thirty thousand men. Added to that, France’s great new aircraft carrier, with an escort of destroyers, was due to arrive shortly, and to remain stationed there indefinitely. This big influx of Servicemen was leading to an all-time-high boom in the bars and nightclubs, but had already become a terrible infliction on the residents. With so much easy money about, the shopkeepers had become insolent, menservants could earn more doing jobs for the Army, and it was now almost impossible to get maidservants because so many of them had become prostitutes.

  After the usual hour for refuelling, the QANTAS aircraft left for Fiji, arriving at 7.40 a.m. Fiji time. And there it was still Wednesday, for some four hundred miles to the east they had crossed the Date Line; thus theoretically, having gained a day in their lives.

  Suva, the capital of Fiji, lies at the eastern end of Viti Levu, the largest and most populous of the three hundred islands in the group, but its airport is not big enough to receive jet liners, so these come down at Nandi, a hundred miles away at the western extremity of the island.

  From Guatemala, at Manon’s suggestion, Gregory had cabled Hunt’s Travel Service to make all arrangements for them, so they were duly met, seen through the Customs and promptly whisked away to the Mocambo Hotel. To Gregory’s surprise, it was not simply a hostel for the overnight convenience of air passengers, but a luxury resort where scores of wealthy people were enjoying the attractions. After a good breakfast they went to bed, having agreed to meet again for drinks before dinner.

  As soon as they had settled down in the dim, cool lounge over their Planter’s Punches, Manon endeavoured to persuade Gregory to go with her next day to Lautoka, the principal port at the western end of the island, where they could hire a boat to take them to her home in the Mamanuca Group, which lay only twenty miles to the west. But he firmly declined her invitation, on the grounds that they must secure salvaging equipment as soon as possible; and that he had already asked Hunt’s representative to secure seats for them on the local flight to Suva the next morning.

  They had just ordered their second round of drinks when they were joined by a Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Knox-Mawer, whom Manon had met soon after coming to live in Fiji. It emerged that he was the Puisne Judge, who administered justice throughout that part of Viti Levu, and that his wife, June, was the author of a recently published book called A Gift of Islands, describing life in Fiji. They had previously been stationed for several years in Aden, about which she had written an earlier book, The Sultans Came to Tea. Gregory happened to have read it, and greatly enjoyed its interest and humour, so he was delighted at this opportunity to talk to her and her husband for he felt that few couples could tell him more about this colony in which he expected to make his headquarters for several months.

  They all dined together, and afterwards, over their brandies, the young Judge told Gregory about the islands. The Dutch explorer Tasman had been the first, in 1643, to discover the Fiji Group; but the whole South Pacific remained on the imaginative maps of those days for another one hundred and forty years, under the description ‘Here be Dragons’. It was not until 1774 that Captain James Cook learned of them in Tonga, but only touched upon them. Then, fifteen years later, Lieutenant Bligh, of Bounty fame, when put overboard off Tonga by mutineers, with eighteen loyal officers and men in a six-oared boat only twenty-three feet long, had become the real discoverer of the Fijis. Tahiti had been nearer, but the winds contrary, so with great courage he had decided to attempt the three-thousand-miles voyage to the Dutch East Indies. During it he had passed right through the Fiji Group and in 1792 he had returned to chart many of its islands.

  This led to European and, a little later, American ships calling fairly frequently at the Fijis. Then, early in the nineteenth century, they began to arrive in scores. The reason was the discovery of sandalwood at the south-west end of Vanua Levu, the second largest island. The wood was greatly prized by the Chinese for making articles used in religious ceremonies, and its dust was turned into joss-sticks. The profits in this trade were enormous, six hundred per cent being the average. One ship, the Jenny, traded fifty pounds’ worth of trash for a cargo of two hundred and fifty tons which realised twenty thousand pounds.

  Eventually the supply of sandalwood gave out and new sources were found near Noumea. But in the 1830s and 40s the Fijis enjoyed another boom, owing to the discovery that the rocks in their innumerable shallow lagoons were great breeding grounds for bêche-de-mer. These are the sea-slug Holathusia, about eight inches long and three thick, having rough skins thickly coated with slime. Before shipping, the slugs were cleaned, par-boiled and smoked. Again the Chinese were eager buyers, because when the cured slugs had been made into soup it was believed to be a marvellous aphrodisiac. At small expense native divers could be paid to collect the bêche-de-mer and in less than a year a Captain could sail away with a cargo of them worth sixty thousand pounds.

  Before the coming of the white man, and for nearly a century afterwards, the Fijis were peopled by innumerable small and large tribes, ruled over by independent hereditary chiefs. They were nearly always at war with one another, although there was little loss of human life. Often, for months at a stretch, a war would consist of small parties creeping into their neighbours’ territories, surprising a few of them cultivating their vegetable gardens, clubbing the men and carrying off the women. Occasionally, there would be a great gathering of ferociously-painted warriors who, after much shouting and boasting, would set off in their canoes. This could lead to ‘battles’ with a thousand or more men on either side. When the clash came there was more shouting and still more boasting, but when half a dozen men had been killed—or, to the
superstitious terror of all concerned, a Chief had by accident been struck down—both sides called it a day. Eventually, one side gave in and brought baskets full of earth to the enemy in token of submission. The victors burned the huts and destroyed the vegetable gardens of the defeated, then went home happily declaiming on their bravery, taking with them the bodies of the slain to be cooked and eaten at a joyful celebration.

  With the arrival of the traders, matters changed for the worse, because the most prized objects they had to offer were firearms. The possession of even a few muskets meant that the warriors could kill without risking their lives in personal combat. So the wars became more frequent and casualties much more numerous. By the fifties there were occasions when over a hundred victims were eaten after a victory.

  Smiling, Gregory put in, ‘No wonder the Fijis became known as the Cannibal Isles.’

  June Knox-Mawer laughed. ‘There is a nice story told about Ratu Edward Thakobau, the great-grandson of the King of Fiji who ceded the country to Queen Victoria. Once, when he was on his way to Europe, a stupid woman at the Captain’s table expressed her horror at cannibalism and would not leave the subject alone. Ratu Edward sent for the menu, read it right through, then said to the steward, “Is this all you have?” As the menu listed about a hundred items, the man looked very surprised, as he replied, “Why, yes, sir.” The Ratu shrugged and handed the menu back. “It all looks a little dull, and I am rather hungry. Please bring me the passenger list”.’

  ‘Another about him,’ the Judge followed up, ‘is of his meeting a lady who asked his nationality. He replied, “Half Fijian and half Scottish”. Naturally she was surprised to hear that he had Scottish blood, so he explained, “You see, in my great-grandfather’s time quite a number of Scottish missionaries came to Fiji and our people found that they made a very pleasant change from pork.” Then he added with that charming smile of his, “But perhaps I should have said, ‘Scottish by absorption’.”