The White Witch of the South Seas gs-11

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The White Witch of the South Seas gs-11 Page 16

by Dennis Wheatley


  With distended eyes Olinda stared at him: then, as he ceased, she turned to her husband and cried in a shrill voice, `Valentim, is this true?

  'More or less,' he admitted sullenly. `But it is I who am going to risk the money, isn't it? Not him. He produced the idea. All right. I'll give him the price of his journey to Rio and a bit over. But cut him in for sixty per cent? Why should I? I'll be damned if I will.'

  `But, Valentim,' Olinda ’s voice had become hoarse and earnest, `you cannot do this. It is robbery. It is as bad as going to his island and stealing valuables while you were a guest in his house. He trusted you. And you lied to me about it. You said he had left everything to you and that you were going to pay him his share when the salvaging was completed. I insist that you give James a fair deal. I insist! I insist!'

  Glowering at her with half closed eyes, her thick set husband snarled, `This is none of your business. Go and have your swim! Get out of here!'

  'I won't!' she cried. `I'll not stand by and see you cheat a simple honest man who is worth ten of you.'

  De Carvalho ran his tongue over his thick lips then began to bellow at her in Portuguese.

  Her beautiful face livid with rage, she screamed insults back at him in the same language.

  Suddenly he lost his temper completely. Taking a swift step forward, he smacked her hard across the face with his open hand.

  There fell a deathly silence in the room. Olinda stood with her mouth half open, a look of shocked surprise on her face. De Carvalho, his jaw thrust forward, was staring at her. Gregory, his eyes narrowed, waited tensely to see which of them would prevail. For a moment in time they all remained as rigid as statues. Then James erupted.

  With the speed and savagery of his forbears, the brown skinned giant launched himself at de Carvalho. In one movement he grasped him by the neck and under one knee, then swung him high over his head. Before Gregory had the least chance to stop him, he burst through the flimsy mosquito screens, bounded out on to the balcony and hurled the Brazilian over it.

  There came one thin, wailing cry, the sound of a heavy thump from below, then again silence.

  Wiping the back of one big brown hand across his eyes, James staggered back into the room.

  `My God, man!' Gregory cried. `Are you mad? You may have killed him.'

  James gave a gasping sob: `The swine! He hit her. I could not bear it. I love her! I love her!'

  Olinda ’s face suddenly lit up and a spate of words poured from her. `So it is true! I hardly dared hope; yet in my heart I knew it. Yes, from the very first moment. But you are so honourable. I feared you would despise me if I confessed my illicit passion for you. Oh, I love you! My wonderful one! I love you too.'

  As she spoke, she held out her arms. James seized her in his and began to smother her face with kisses.

  Gregory gave vent to an unprintable Italian oath and ran out on to the balcony. It was not yet half past ten. Many people were still dining in the restaurant on the ground floor of the main block; strains of music came up from it. Others were strolling in the garden that ran down to the beach. A little crowd of men and women had run over to de Carvalho. They were now grouped round him. One man was half supporting his limp body.

  As Gregory peered over, the voice of an American woman came excitedly from only a few yards away on his right. `There he is! Help! Help! Murder!'

  Almost immediately a man's voice followed, `No, that's not him. It was a huge guy, a fuzzy wuzzy.'

  Glancing round, Gregory saw two figures beyond the partition that screened off the balcony from its neighbour. Evidently the American couple next door had been sitting there enjoying the cool of the evening, and had seen James throw de Carvalho over.

  Ignoring them, he again leaned over the rail. He had to know whether the Brazilian was alive or dead. The crowd round him were exclaiming in several languages, `Get a doctor!' `Stand back!' `Give him air!' `We must carry him inside.' `Lucky that he fell on his back and not on his head.' `His right arm's broken.' `His heart's all right.' `Just unconscious, eh; don't wonder the fall knocked him out.

  Turning about, Gregory dashed back into the room. James and Olinda were still embraced and murmuring incoherently to each other between kisses. Seizing them each by an arm, Gregory dragged them apart and snarled at James:

  `You lunatic! This is no time for lovemaking. Thank God he didn't break his neck. He's alive, but he may well die from internal injuries. Then you'll be had for murder. At best you'll be charged with attempted murder and get four or five years in prison. We've got to get out of here. And quick!'

  His angry tirade acted like a douche of cold water on the lovers. `He's right,' Olinda said in a frightened whisper. `Oh, my darling, my heart bleeds that you should be in such danger on my account. But you must go. At once. Have you money?'

  Gregory nodded. `I've plenty in my wallet.'

  `This way then: She ran to the door. `I'll go down with you and engage anyone we meet in conversation.'

  They followed her out into the open corridor that served all the rooms on the upper floor of the block, and down the stairs. At the bottom they came face to face with a waiter. He was wheeling a trolley holding a cold supper for four evidently a meal ordered by a party that intended to make merry in a private sitting room. At the sight of them running towards him, the man's mouth opened to give a shout. Before he could utter it, James darted past Olinda and struck him a single blow. He went down like a pole axed ox.

  As the other two ran on, Gregory pulled up short beside the trolley. Already he was thinking ahead. To escape arrest they would have to go into hiding and food might be difficult to obtain. Flinging a bowl of fruit salad and an orange jelly on the floor, he gathered up the four corners of the small tablecloth that covered the trolley, so that all the other food cascaded into the middle, heaved the bundle up and swung it over his shoulder.

  At the circular drive outside the front entrance to the hotel, the others had halted to wait for him. Olinda had wrenched a ruby cross from a necklace she was wearing and thrust it into his hand as she said, still breathlessly, `Go to the harbour. Go aboard our yacht, the Boa Viagem. Show this to

  Captain Amedo. Tell him it is my order that he should take you where you wish.'

  She did not hear Gregory's words of thanks, for she had turned away and was again in James' arms, crushing his mouth with violent kisses. Suddenly she pushed him from her and cried, `Go now, go! Tomorrow I will burn a thousand candles. May the Holy Virgin protect you.'

  In the drive stood several parked cars. Among them was a tradesman's Citroen van which had probably made a late delivery. No one was about. Running to it, Gregory wrenched open the near door and jumped into the driver's seat. James ran round and scrambled in on the other side. The self starter whirred, the clutch slid in and they were off.

  There came a tense moment as they drove out through the arched entrance to the hotel grounds, but no one attempted to stop them. James then relaxed, lay back in his seat and sighed ecstatically, `She loves me. She loves me.'

  Gregory could have hit him for the mess he had landed them in, and snarled, `You bloody young fool! You should have bided your time and she would have fallen in your lap. As things are, after this little demonstration of your affection for her, you'll be darned lucky if you ever see her again.'

  `That cannot be,' James declared with fatalistic optimism. 'The gods made us for one another… It is certain that they will smile upon our love. And owing to her we have little to fear. We shall sail away in the yacht.'

  Tightening his grip on the wheel, Gregory took the bend opposite the Headquarters of the Pacific Commission at forty five miles an hour. When they had made it he snapped angrily, `You poor boob. With a couple like the de Carvalho’s, who do you think the Captain takes his orders from? Him or her? Him, of course, unless she happens to be on the yacht without him. If we showed the Captain that trinket she gave me he'd immediately jump to it that we'd stolen it with all her other jewels, and had thought up a cleve
r plan to make use of him for a quick get away. It's all Lombard Street to a china orange that he'd have his crew grab us while he sent for the police.'

  Subsiding, James asked dolefully, `What then are we to do?

  'I don't fancy taking to the mountains,' Gregory replied after a moment. `Our best bet would be to try to find another yacht or, rather, a small cabin cruiser with no one aboard. If we could make off in her, and be well out of sight of Noumea before dawn, we'd stand a fair chance of getting away.'

  Five minutes later they turned into Fisherman's Bay. The waterfront was almost deserted. As they drove past a long line of sheds Gregory, noticed one with the doors standing open. Swerving, he drove the van into it. They got out, closed the doors, then walked quickly along to the wharf, to which a number of the smaller boats were tied up. A few of them showed lights, but none of their occupants was on deck. A patrolling gendarme came into view.

  `If we try to hide, and he spots us, we'll be in trouble,' Gregory whispered. `We'll just stroll casually past him, talking about anything, but stick to French.' In a louder voice, he added, `Have you ever been to Europe?'

  `No,' James replied. `But I would like to, particularly to England; oh, and of course France. Paris must be wonderful.'

  They were just under one of the arc lights when they drew level with the gendarme, so they saw that he was a native. He gave them a sharp look, murmured `Bon soir' and walked on. Two minutes later he was hidden from view behind some sheds. Swiftly Gregory ran his eye over the twenty or more launches that were moored along the quay. Pointing to one about twenty five feet in length, he said, `That looks about our mark. You will make less noise than I should. Slip aboard her and make certain that there is no one sleeping in the cabin, then check the tanks to see if she has plenty of petrol and water. I'll keep watch here and give a loud warning cough should the gendarme come back this way. If he does, lie doggo and don't worry about me.'

  While Gregory hauled in the painter, James took off his shoes, then dropped almost silently into the stern of the launch. Two minutes later he called softly, 'OK. Come aboard.' Gregory untied her and joined James on the deck.

  Going forward he took the wheel, started the engine, and nosed the launch slowly out. A minute later a figure emerged from the cabin of one of the boats that had lights on further along the row, and a voice called

  `Where are you off to at this hour, Mathieu?'

  It was a nasty moment, as Gregory had no idea how well the man who had hailed him knew 'Mathieu', and what type of man Mathieu was. But to have failed to reply would have been certain to arouse suspicion, so he took a chance. Praying that his voice would not give him away as a stranger, he called back facetiously:

  `Maybe Marseilles; maybe New York.'

  To his relief a laugh greeted his sally. Switching on the navigation lights, he headed at half speed for the harbour entrance. When they had cleared it he asked James, `How far do you reckon it is from here to Tujoa?'

  `About four hundred and fifty miles. As I once told you, it is nearer Fiji than New Caledonia. By rights it should have been included in the Fijis, but it is our misfortune that in 1853 the Nakapoa Group, as well as New Caledonia, came under France:

  `Do you think you could navigate us to Tujoa? If not, we'll have to head down the coast here and try to hide up in some lonely inlet.'

  James laughed. With his mercurial nature, now that they were temporarily out of danger, he seemed to have forgotten that barely an hour ago he had probably killed a man. `Of course. I come of a race of great seafarers. I could take you anywhere in the South Pacific with my eyes shut. As a youth I spent many nights at sea. Even when the stars are hidden I would know my way by the feel of the wind, the look of the water and the smell of the air.'

  As the night sky was clear, he had only to look up for a few moments to give Gregory a course. Then he said, `The prevailing wind is against us, so it will take us three, perhaps four, days to make it. In these seas there is little traffic, so the danger of our coming into collision with another boat in the dark is negligible. But there are numerous islands and many reefs; so, although we can lash the wheel, one of us must always keep watch. Reefs can be seen at some distance because of the phosphorus in the waves that break over them. We call it “the breath of Daucina”, the great Shark God who is the light giver and ‘protector of seafarers.'

  When the lights of Noumea had become pinpoints behind them, Gregory murmured, `So far, so good. Owing to your height, you and I make such a conspicuous couple that the gendarme we passed on the wharf is certain to remember us. I was afraid that soon after we left, a general police alert might reach him, then they would tumble to it that we had pinched this launch and got away by sea, and come after us in a 'speed boat. But, as they won't know which direction we have taken, we've got far enough now for the odds to be all against their catching us.'

  James made up one of the two bunks in the small cabin and split the remainder of the night into two watches. The morning dawned cloudy and by eight o'clock it had begun to rain. On examining their food supply, they found that the things Gregory had whipped up from the trolley had become a glutinous mess, embedded in which were four thick slices of the delicious Terrine Maison, a score of prawns that had been in aspic, and four small birds. With care it would be enough to last them four to five days and if they did run short James said they could always pick up some coconuts and wild bananas from one of the many deserted islands they would pass or, failing that, they could catch fish. The supply of water was also satisfactory, but Gregory had serious misgivings that the petrol would not prove sufficient for so long a voyage.

  By midday the sky had cleared and the sun blazed down. Soon the roof of the cabin became so hot that they could not bear to touch it. All through the long afternoon, sweltering and sweating, they alternately dozed and kept watch. Over their evening meal, Gregory asked, `Have you decided what to do if and when we reach Tujoa?'

  James looked at him a little unhappily. `Stay there, I suppose. What else can I do? If I have killed that swine, they will come after me; but my people are loyal and would hide me up in the mountains.'

  `Sooner or later someone would betray you, and the police would run you to earth. Even if you haven't killed de Carvalho they will institute a search for you and you'll get a long prison sentence if you are caught. I think the best plan would be for us to go on to Fiji. As that is British territory, they would have to get a warrant to extradite you. They will, of course, if de Carvalho dies; but if he is only injured they may not bother. Once we are in Fiji, too, we could probably get to Manon's island without being traced and lie up there.'

  Putting a long arm round Gregory's shoulders, James said, `Dear Gregory, what a good friend you have been to me. But for you I expect I would already be in prison. Yet you got me away and came with me, when you need not have done. You had no part in my act and Olinda would have sworn to your innocence.'

  Gregory laughed. `Perhaps, but they would have found out that we were partners; so they might have taken the line that I could have prevented you from throwing him over the balcony, and charged me as an accessory. Anyhow, forget it, dear boy. We are in this thing together.'

  On the second day the good weather continued, but Gregory suffered severely from the sun. However careful he was, he had from time to time to expose himself to it: and his face, arms and insteps began to hot up until he knew that he was in for a bad bout of sunburn.

  Soon after dawn on the third morning, a wind got up. The sea became choppy and flecked with white horses, then became really rough. They kept the launch head on to the waves, but it bounded and bucked like a bronco, jarring them badly with each jolt. Spray broke over the boat in sheets and the bilge began to fill with water. Both of them set to baling frantically, but by midday the cabin was awash. In the afternoon the storm eased a little, but about four o'clock the engine sputtered and died. As Gregory had feared might happen, their petrol had given out.

  Now the launch veered from her co
urse and was at the mercy of the sea. All that they could do was to keep on baling and pray that the boat might be washed up on an island. James broke out into lamentations about the vulnerability of modern vessels. The Pacific peoples had sailed in safety thousands of miles in their canoes at one time even carrying out a great migration right through the East Indies and across the Indian Ocean to Madagascar. The Fijians,. Tongans and his own people, he said, had long been famous as canoe builders and their catamarans big double canoes spanned by a deck with a palm thatched house on it were more comfortable to voyage in than anything short of a large, modern pleasure yacht. King Thakobau had once owned such a double canoe, one hundred and two feet long and eighteen feet wide, which he had presented to King George of Tonga.

  But James' unhappy grumblings did nothing to lessen Gregory's anxiety. It seemed certain now that, unless the sea went down before nightfall, the launch would sink. Then, just as the sun was setting a great orange ball on the horizon they sighted and island. Ten minutes later it became certain that they were being carried towards it.

  Darkness soon shrouded the scene, but fewer waves were now breaking over the boat and the stars came out. There followed an anxious two hours, then ahead of them they sighted a line of breaking surf. Some way behind it the island loomed up. The lights of the launch were still working, and Gregory switched them on. Had the engine not failed, they might have manoeuvred the boat until they found a gap in the reef, but she had no steerage way. As they were swept towards the reef, the waves pounding on it seemed to become higher until they towered overhead. Then came a grinding crash. The boat splintered to pieces on the rocks and they were both thrown into the sea.

  As they came spluttering to the surface, they found that they were inside the reef and in calm water. Having called to each other, with infinite relief they swam for the shore. It was about a quarter of a mile away and they had only covered a third of the distance to it when, from the beach, a searchlight flashed out and began to sweep the lagoon until it focused on them. The lights of the launch had evidently been seen. Joyful at the thought that help was at hand, they redoubled their efforts and staggered ashore.

 

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