Uncharted Seas

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘Only stunned, I—I think,’ she stammered, ‘but Mr. Vedras attacked him—and broke a bottle over his head.’

  ‘So!’ The old carpenter favoured Vicente with a stony glare; the crew muttered threateningly in chorus.

  ‘I was protecting Madame Ortello. ’E was drunk and made to molest ’er,’ Vicente said defiantly.

  ‘That’s a lie,’ Synolda cried. ‘He was trying to get you out of my cabin.’

  ‘It’s a lie all right,’ Hansie piped up. ‘Mr. Luvia likes his drop of liquor, but ’e’s got a head like a rock. I’ve been with him two years, and I sure ain’t ever seen ’im over the odds yet.’

  ‘Let us beat him oop,’ shouted young Largertöf, and the remainder of the crew surged struggling in the doorway as they forced their way into the small cabin.

  Vicente’s face went deadly white. It looked as though the furious seamen meant to murder him. Dropping to his knees he grabbed the gun Synolda had snatched from him and let fall. Jansen, Largertöf and Hansie, all sprang at him together over Luvia’s body. The gun went off with another earsplitting detonation. Old Jansen coughed, moaned, and toppled sideways on to Synolda’s bunk; the other two landed right on top of Vicente and pinned him to the floor.

  For one wild moment the cabin was chock-full of struggling cursing humanity while Synolda, still crouching on the floor, strove to protect Juhani’s head from further damage by holding it tightly in her arms.

  The writhing Laocoön unwound itself; Vicente was lugged kicking and bellowing out into the passage; only Li Foo remained behind. Jansen had slipped from the bunk face downward on to the floor. Li Foo turned him over and one look at his fixed, staring eyeballs was quite enough to show that he was dead.

  He took the corpse by the shoulders and hauled him out into the passageway.

  A muffled cry came from near by. Unity had just arrived from her cabin on the far side of the ship.

  ‘Plenty trouble, Missie, but over now,’ Li Foo said gently, and he stood aside for her to pass through the narrow doorway.

  ‘Oh, God!’ she exclaimed as her glance fell on the second body. ‘Poor Juhani’s not dead too, is he?’

  Synolda looked up. ‘No, thank Heavens. That swine Vicente bashed the poor darling over the head with my water bottle. Fortunately it was not one of the heavy kind and he’s got a good, thick skull. This is only a skin cut and it’s practically stopped bleeding already.’

  ‘Betteh get ’im up on bunk,’ suggested Li Foo and, with the help of the two girls, he succeeded in lifting Luvia’s heavy body.

  ‘What on earth happened?’ Unity asked. ‘I heard the most awful riot going on and two shots fired.’

  Synolda gave her a brief, staccato explanation and, between them, they bathed and bandaged Luvia’s head. He was breathing stertorously now and Synolda guessed that from unconsciousness he had passed straight into a drunken stupor.

  ‘Poh Misteh Luvia,’ lisped Li Foo. ‘You two Missie go up, topsides fine.’

  ‘No, we’ll stay and help you,’ Unity volunteered promptly, and between them they undertook the awkward business of getting the young Finn out of his clothes.

  When he was comfortably tucked up in the bunk Unity turned to Synolda. ‘The cabin next to mine is empty. I think you’d better doss down there for the night.’

  ‘No, thanks.’ Synolda shook her head sadly. ‘I’d rather remain here in case he wakes and wants something.’

  ‘That’s hardly necessary,’ Unity said. ‘When he does wake he won’t have anything worse than a splitting head. You look absolutely all-in, my dear. But if you insist on sitting up I’ll stay with you if you like.’

  ‘No, please,’ Synolda begged. ‘All this frightful business is my fault. I can only be thankful that he wasn’t killed. As it is Jansen’s lost his life, and God knows what they’ve done with Vicente.’

  ‘They’ve only locked him in his cabin, I think—after giving him a dusting-up. They were hustling him into it when I came along, but perhaps I’d better go and see.’

  While Unity was gone Li Foo carried the old carpenter’s body away and came back with a bucket and mop. Hansie and Largertöf appeared behind him to inquire how their officer was and were greatly relieved to hear that he was only stunned. Having asked if they could do anything and been assured that their help was not needed they both moved off. Unity returned a few moments later.

  ‘Vicente’s all right,’ she announced. ‘He was groaning like a stuck pig but I spoke to him through the door. They locked him in there when they realised Juhani was still alive. It’s hardly likely they’ll have another go at him now they’ve gone off to their own quarters.’

  ‘Thank God for that,’ Synolda murmured. ‘You get back to bed, my dear. I’ll be all right here now.’

  Li Foo had been busy mopping up the spilt blood from the cabin floor. He gave Synolda his friendly grin. ‘Yoh be o.k, li’l Missie. Li Foo go mek good cuppa tea an’ Li Foo sit close ou’side all time—see yoh plenty safe.’

  Unity hesitated. ‘You’re quite sure you wouldn’t rather I stayed to keep you company.’

  ‘Yes—honestly. He’ll sleep easier without the light. I’ll wrap up in a rug and lie down on the settee; then I can switch it out.’

  ‘All right then. Li Foo’ll look after you, I know. Do try and get some sleep if you can.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ Synolda promised as Unity turned away. ‘Good night.’

  Li Foo brought the promised tea and Synolda drank it gratefully. The warm, aromatic brew soothed her frayed and shattered nerves. She tried to persuade the solicitous Chinaman to go to his own cabin but he would not hear of it. He had brought along a mat and pillow upon which he proposed to doss down in the passage outside her door all night. When he left her she examined Juhani’s bandages again, kissed him tenderly on the forehead, curled up on the settee, and put out the light.

  Juhani woke early: the faint luminosity of morning lit the cabin greyly. He lifted a hand to his aching head and was amazed to find it a normal size; it felt heavy as a millstone on his shoulders, but pulpy, as though it had been beaten with a flail from every angle. It ached atrociously, and violent stabbing pains shot through it. Not daring to move it but swivelling his eyes slightly he caught sight of Synolda, sound asleep on the settee opposite. The events of the previous night came flooding back to him, and he wondered what had happened to Vicente. He remembered being knocked out but could recall little that had gone before except his scene with Synolda in the lounge and getting blind drunk afterwards.

  He supposed that she had put him to bed after having got rid of Vicente. She looked younger than ever, asleep there with her golden hair tumbled about her pale face. There was something pathetic and wistful about the droop of her mouth which made him want to stretch out his arms and comfort her in them, but he hardened his heart. The girl was a wrong ’un; any man’s plaything. He’d have no more to do with her.

  Very gingerly he eased himself up in the bunk and slid one foot out on to the floor. He noted with satisfaction that he had no pains in his limbs. It was only his head that hurt him so abominably; his mouth tasted as if it had been filled with cinders, the result of his knocking back the liquor so heavily; the cut was nothing he decided.

  Seeing his clothes, which were neatly folded in a little pile on the floor, he drew his other leg from beneath the bed-clothes, stooped and almost fell, as something that felt like ten pounds of loose duck-shot sloped forward in his head, hit the front of his skull and nearly overbalanced him. He grabbed at his clothes, thrust them under one arm and standing up, tip-toed towards the door.

  Synolda slept on without moving a muscle as he carefully extracted the key, opened the door, and slipped outside.

  Li Foo rose like a dark shadow to meet him but drew back as he saw Juhani’s imperative gesture for silence. Closing the door gently behind him Juhani locked it, took the key out and walked down the passage beckoning the Chinaman to follow.

  Once in his own cabin he soused his s
plitting head in cold water and, while he dried himself, shot a few questions at Li Foo. On learning of Jansen’s death he was inexpressibly shocked; realising at once that he was the main cause of it. The cold sluice had cleared his wits a little. Having learned all that he could from the impassive Chinaman he dismissed him abruptly, dressed, and went on deck to try to cool his fevered head further with a breath of early morning air.

  He found Unity already up, pacing uneasily to and fro on the fore-deck. She was keeping well amidships, evidently not daring to go near either rail for fear a lurking octopus should snatch her up in the same way that one had taken poor Bremer. Juhani would have avoided her if he could but he came upon her too suddenly to withdraw without some sort of greeting.

  ‘Mornin.’ How’s things?’ he said awkwardly, wondering how much she knew of the previous night’s events and feeling utterly shamed, under the gaze of her level grey eyes, by the part he had played in them.

  ‘Not too good,’ she replied quietly; ‘they won’t be for me until Basil’s safely back again.’

  ‘I doubt De Brissac will be quitting the island much before noon. They’ll be keen to see this hick dorp we’ve got to settle in and he knows there’s no mighty hurry to get back.’

  She nodded. ‘I suppose that is so but I was hoping Basil might decide to do the return trip first thing this morning and tell us all about it. How’s the head?’

  ‘Not so hot.’ Juhani looked away ashamedly. ‘I guess you know all about the rough-house last night?’

  ‘Quite a bit; although I only arrived on the scene when the worst of it was over. You must have fallen for Synolda pretty badly.’

  ‘That …!’ he checked himself and substituted: ‘What, her? Oh, I was playing around a bit but she gave me a raspberry. I ought’a had more sense.’

  ‘Poor Juhani.’ Unity’s smile was kind and sisterly and sympathetic. ‘I’m so sorry there’s been trouble between you two. If you’d only seen her cradling your injured head in her arms last night, after you were knocked out, you’d realise how fond she must be of you. The two of you were just made for each other,’

  ‘Well, I had a yen that way,’ Juhani admitted reluctantly, ‘but it just didn’t work out. She’s dirty—that’s what she is—dirty under the skin. I’m through with her.’

  ‘That’s not true. Synolda’s had a past and she admits it; but she wouldn’t play a dirty trick on anyone.’

  ‘Now listen, Unity. I don’t want to put her in wrong with you but I’ve got to blow off steam to someone. If I don’t I’ll go plumb crazy and you’re the only person left in the old hooker I can talk to. I’ve a hell of a lot to answer for, getting canned like I did—I’m wise to that—but this is the way it was.’

  They fell into step; pacing back and forth amidships while he poured out his tortured thoughts. He ended up with an angry burst: ‘There! that’s the kind she is—so what would any feller do?’

  Unity was silent for a moment. ‘It’s not a pretty story,’ she said at last. ‘I don’t blame you for getting tight but Synolda’s different from most girls—it’s the life she’s led. If you love her you ought to make allowances.’

  ‘I did love her—I was absolutely nuts about her up to last night—but now I don’t know if I love her or hate her. Anyway, she’s a danger to Vicente and to me. I’m going to keep her locked up in her cabin and send her meals down to her by Hansie or Li Foo until we pile up on the island.’

  ‘How about Vicente?’

  ‘That goes for him, too. The swine shot poor old Jansen and if we were docking in any ordinary port I’d have to hand him over to stand his trial for murder.’

  ‘He thought they were going to kill him and fired in self-defence. It would never have happened at all if you hadn’t got drunk, so you’re as much to blame as he is.’

  ‘I know it.’ Juhani’s haggard features were lit up for a second with a rueful grin. ‘I suppose I ought to lock myself up as well but someone’s got to run the ship.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s as well that the three of you should not meet again for a time. It won’t hurt the others to stay below for the day, anyhow,’ Unity said thoughtfully; feeling that would at least stave off any further trouble until Basil and De Brissac were back in the ship. ‘I think I’d better go and cook breakfast.’

  Juhani left her at the entrance of the galley and went aft. Gietto Nudäa suddenly popped up in front of him from the engine-room hatch. He seemed surprised to see Juhani and said quickly: ‘Didn’t know you was about, Mistah Luvia.’

  ‘Well,’ said Juhani abruptly, ‘what of it?’

  The half-caste shuffled. ‘I dort you was all in after dat rough ’ouse lars’ night.’

  ‘What the hell’s that got to do with you?’

  ‘I would have come rouse you out early on.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘ ’Cos a’ Harlem. De big stiff dort you was a gonner. He’s bin an’ skipped ship wid dat islander what stopped one in de knob. Dey beat it with de odder two balloons jus’ arter sun up.’

  ‘The devil they did!’ Luvia exclaimed. ‘Made off to Satan’s Island, eh? Why didn’t they take you with them?’ he added suspiciously. ‘There were three balloons.’

  Nudäa flared up angrily. ‘I’se a white man, least dat’s what dey say, an’ dem island folk croak all de whites dey gets hold of.’

  ‘I see, and as they wouldn’t have you along you would have spoilt their little game by getting hold of me, if you’d thought I was fit to tackle them.’

  ‘Sure—I don’t owe dem notin’. I don’t owe no one notin’. May der ole white sot an’ der coloured bitch what made me rot in hell!’

  Luvia nodded slowly. Poor devil, he was thinking. Half-caste—outcast—no race, no nation, neither liked nor trusted by men of either colour. Aloud he said as he turned away:

  ‘Well, they’ve gone now and good riddance. Harlem won’t be able to make any more trouble here, at least.’ Fortunately, perhaps, he was unable to foresee the future and visualise events that were to take place before another twenty-four hours had passed.

  17

  Love in Yonita’s Island

  It was late afternoon when Basil woke. After a second he recognised his strange surroundings and sat up. Owing to the dim light which was all that filtered through the two portholes in the wall he imagined that it was already evening.

  Jumping from his bed he ran over to one of the ports and looked out. To his relief he saw that the sunshine still etched the shadows of the great cedars sharply across the park-land and threw up the bright colours of the flowers in the garden immediately below. He knew Unity would have expected him back that morning and felt she must now be desperately anxious about him. His one thought was to relieve her anxiety by returning to the ship as quickly as possible. Pulling on a few clothes he hurried into the next room and roused De Brissac.

  The Frenchman blinked a little and raised himself among the comfortable pillows of the broad bed.

  ‘Come along,’ Basil urged him, ‘up you get. We don’t want darkness to catch us again on our way back.’

  De Brissac yawned and glanced round the dim room. ‘But it is night already, mon ami, or nearly so. We must wait now to return until tomorrow.’

  ‘Not a bit of it. This light’s deceptive,’ Basil assured him. ‘It’s not much past half past four. We can do it easily if only you’ll hurry.’

  ‘But why should one hurry?’ De Brissac smiled. ‘It is very comfortable here. Sir Deveril and his friends are quite charming and will certainly wish us to stay at least one night. Tomorrow is surely time enough to leave them.’

  ‘The others will be anxious about us. Surely you see that. They don’t even know that we managed to get here safely.’

  ‘You talk nonsense, mon vieux. They all took it for granted that we should—as we did ourselves—otherwise we should never have set out. It was sheer bad luck that we had to spend the night on that ghastly island.’

  ‘Well, I want to get back,’ said Basil s
tubbornly. ‘It’s barely an hour’s walk to the cliff where we left the balloons and another hour to cross the weed. We should be there by half past six.’

  ‘We will see,’ De Brissaca greed non-committally. He was already looking forward with much pleasurable anticipation to his next conversation with Yonita and had not the least desire to hurry off to the Gafelborg.

  An old-fashioned bell-rope dangled above the bed. De Brissac pulled it sharply, and a few minutes later an elderly, dark-skinned manservant appeared bringing jugs of hot water for them to shave. Basil returned to his own room and got through the business speedily. Immediately he was fully dressed he hastened back to De Brissac and hung about him impatiently while the Frenchman made a leisurely toilet. They then walked together down a passage to the main hall of the house.

  Sir Deveril rose smiling to greet them from a big armchair and asked how they had slept.

  Having assured him that they had had every comfort and were now completely refreshed, Basil immediately began to speak of their setting out on their return journey.

  ‘Gad, gentlemen,’ Sir Deveril expostulated, ‘I do protest. Your coming is a great happening in our uneventful lives, and we owe to you the return of my adorable betrothed. All of us are desperate eager to honour you as you deserve, and during the time you have been refreshing yourselves, preparations have been going forward for a banquet at which you will be our guests tonight.’

  ‘That’s terribly nice of you,’ Basil said quickly, ‘and we appreciate it tremendously, but really we must get back. Our friends in the ship will have expected us this morning and by now—’

  ‘My dear fellow, you exaggerate,’ De Brissac broke in. ‘I never said anything to Luvia about our returning today, and as you know, he hoped to manœuvre the ship nearer in. I see no reason why we should go back to the ship at all; we might just as well wait here until the others are able to land.’

  ‘What!’ exclaimed Basil. ‘But we can’t possibly do that. It may be days until the Gafelborg beaches; and all that time the others won’t know if we’re alive or dead.’