The White Witch of the South Seas gs-11

by Dennis Wheatley

  On the beach a soldier with a Sten gun was waiting to receive them. In a language of which Gregory understood a little, but James had never heard spoken, the man called out something and motioned to them to put up their hands. Surprised and breathless, they obeyed. Signing to them to go ahead of him, he marched them along the beach towards the searchlight. About a hundred yards before they reached it they were met by an officer at the head of a group of soldiers. In halting French the officer asked their nationality and where they had come from.

  `We are British,' Gregory replied; and, in the hope that they would be sent on there, he added, `We come from Fiji.'

  `This island is forbidden to all persons,' said the officer harshly. `You are under arrest.' Then he signed to a Sergeant and two men to escort them away along a path that led inland through the jungle.

  As they moved off, James turned to Gregory and asked in a puzzled voice, `What do they mean to do with us? Who are these people, anyway?'

  `What they will do with us, God alone knows,' replied Gregory grimly, `or how they come to be here. But these men are Russians.'

  10

  And the Bill to Pay

  "Russians!' echoed James. `But they are soldiers, and the Russians own no islands in the South Pacific. What are they doing here?'

  `Ask me another,' Gregory shrugged, although he had already conceived a possible explanation. He was too wet and weary to wish to talk, and would anyhow not have speculated on the matter in the hearing of their escort, even though it was unlikely that any of the men understood English. But he did take that small chance by adding, `If you have anything on you that will give away your identity I'll distract our escorts' attention for a moment while you throw it into the bushes.'

  No, I've nothing,' James murmured. `I left everything behind at…'

  In the launch,' Gregory cut in loudly. `So did I

  After trudging about a mile the ground sloped up and they came to a mound crowned by tall bushes. In the uncertain light it was not until they were quite near that Gregory realised that it was actually a low building, but so well camouflaged that even in daylight it could not have been detected from the background of jungle at more than a hundred yards. Apertures in the otherwise solid front showed it to be a small fort that commanded the bay. Hidden behind it were some storehouses and an open space in which stood two jeeps. A sentry who was on duty there shouted something and an officer emerged from the fort. The Sergeant reported to him. They held a brief colloquy; then the prisoners, prodded with machine pistols, were herded into one of the jeeps.

  After half an hour of bumping along a dirt track they came down into a valley in which there were a number of lighted buildings, evidently forming a base camp. The jeep drew up in front of an office block. The Sergeant went inside, came out again and called to his men. The prisoners were taken up on to a veranda which ran the whole length of thee building, marched some way along it, then put into a room furnished only with two tables, a few chairs and some filing cabinets. One of the soldiers went in with them, then the door was locked.

  Wearily, Gregory sat down on one of the hard chairs… Looking up at James towering above him, he gave a just perceptible wink and said with apparent severity, 'Well, Johnny Olourna, what have you to say for yourself? Before we left Suva your father told me that you were to be relied upon. He assured me that you could take me in safety for a fortnight's cruise among the islands and were much too knowledgeable ever to leave port when there was a threat of bad weather:'

  For a moment 'Johnny' looked surprised, then he got the message and replied, 'I am sorry, sir. But such storms do blow up quite unexpectedly.'

  The soldier who had been left with them growled something, which Gregory knew to be an order not to talk; but he had no intention of giving away the fact that he knew even a little Russian, so he went on

  `And where are we now, I would like to know? What island is this?

  'It must be Yuloga. A solitary island that lies about halfway between the Loyalties and the Nakapoa Group.'

  Angrily their guard stamped a heavily booted foot, put one hand over his mouth and with the other waved his machine pistol; so they accepted his demonstration and fell silent.

  After a wait of twenty minutes the door was unlocked, the Sergeant reappeared, and they were led along to a larger and much better furnished office. Behind a desk was seated a square jawed Russian who, by his rank badges, Gregory knew to be a Colonel. Beside him stood a French officer wearing the uniform of a Captain of Artillery. Poker faced, the Russian threw the questions and the Frenchman interpreted.

  Actually, owing to their hurried flight from Noumea, it was there that the two prisoners had left their passports and other papers, so there was little chance of their being identified; but Gregory took the precaution of choosing a false name for himself, the initials of which would tally with the monogram on his silk shirt. Showing great indignation at the treatment they were receiving, he said that he was George Simonds, a British subject who had come on a winter holiday to Fiji. At home he owned a motor launch, and spent several weeks each summer cruising across the Channel or North Sea. Thinking that it would be pleasant to cruise among the islands, he had hired a launch from a Mr. Olourna in Suva, with his son Johnny to pilot her. They had been caught in a storm, etc. He requested a passage back to Fiji as soon as possible.

  James substantiated Gregory's story. But the Russian did not appear interested. He was concerned only with security. At length the French Captain said, 'No one is permitted to land on this island unless he carries a special permit. That you should have been wrecked on it is your misfortune. You will have to remain here during the pleasure of the Commandant.'

  At that Gregory blew up, declaiming on the Rights of Nations and the Freedom of Individuals. But he was only making a demonstration which he hoped would lead his captors to regard him as a person of some importance. He knew only too well that, even could he have communicated with Whitehall, the days were gone when the British Government could protect her nationals the world over, and, should they be unjustly imprisoned, send a warship to secure their release. The birthright of Britons had been sold for a few sacks full of dollars and a Socialist mess of pottage, based on liberal fantasies that in the sacred name of Independence all peoples were now entitled to kill their political enemies and imprison foreigners whenever they wished.

  As the prisoners, still protesting, were led away, Gregory shouted to the Captain, `We have not fed for over twelve hours; so at least send us food and something passable to drink.'

  They were taken a few hundred yards on foot to an enclosure of one storey buildings. There the Sergeant handed them over to a Sergeant of Military Police, who led them across a compound, then locked them in o two adjacent cells, each of which was furnished with a truckle bed, a chair, a slop bucket, a rack that held a tin jug of water and a mug. But at least the prison had been built recently, so the cells were clean and hygienic. Above head level the walls on all four sides consisted of iron grilles covered with fine gauge wire mesh, to provide through currents of air and protect the prisoners from mosquitoes. There were no lights in the cells, but illumination from a great arc lamp in the middle of the compound came through the grilles, giving enough light to see by, yet not sufficient to prevent sleep.

  The island being forbidden to ordinary citizens, Gregory felt sure that the prison must be a military detention centre, so it was most unlikely that the cells were `bugged'. Owing to the solid partition that separated them he could not see James, but they were able to talk to each other through the open work iron grille above it. As Gregory did not feel like talking, he called out, `We're in a fine mess, Johnny; but we had best sleep on it and discuss what can be done tomorrow.'

  The thin clothes he was wearing had already dried out owing to the warm tropical night air, and were only a little stiff from salt. he was about to take off his trousers and get into bed when the door opened and an orderly thrust in a mess tin holding some pieces of meat, a yam, tw
o banana’s and what Gregory rightly took to be a mug of strong tea. The meat was tough and the yarn unpalatable; but after his long fast he ate the greater part of them and the bananas with pleasure, then drank the dark brew of tea, comforted a little to think that their captors were not altogether inhuman. Partly undressing, he lay down on the bed, pulled the rough blanket over him and, utterly tired out, soon fell asleep.

  When he woke the big arc lamp had been switched off and instead the pale light of early morning filtered into the cell. Recalling the events of the past night, he endeavoured to console himself for having been made a prisoner by the fact that he was lucky to be alive at all. His waterproof watch was still going, and a glance at it showed the time to be a little before six.

  Both he and James had been frisked for weapons, but not searched, and none of their few belongings had been taken from them. He put that down to their having been imprisoned not for any criminal act, but simply as detainees. His wallet had fallen out of his pocket when he had been thrown from the wrecked launch, but that did not particularly trouble him, as he still had plenty of money on him. During the long spells he had spent on secret missions abroad during the war he had always worn a money belt containing a hundred or more gold coins as well as wads of bank notes of the country in which he was operating. More recently, since he had been travelling further afield, he had resumed his practice of wearing the money belt as a precaution against pick pockets and hotel thieves. Now it had in it a considerable sum in dollar bills and Swiss franc bank notes.

  Had he been searched, the money might have been taken from him; and he was still congratulating himself on having the wherewithal to bribe his way out of prison, should an opportunity arise, when his cell door was unlocked and a guard beckoned him out. James had already been released and, as they wished each other a rather gloomy `Good morning', the guard led them along to a wash house.

  In it there were already two men who, from their light skins and only slightly crinkly hair, looked to Gregory like Polynesians. Soon afterwards they were joined by two white men and two fuzzy haired Melanesians. The two white men were both fortyish, lanky, fair haired and blue eyed. Surprised and pleased at the sight of Gregory, they introduced themselves as Willy and Frank Robertson, Australians who had long been in the copra trade. Two months earlier their schooner had been driven on to a reef by a hurricane. They and the two Melanesians, who were members of their crew, had succeeded in getting ashore in a boat, only to be promptly arrested and imprisoned. The Polynesians, they said, had been there for considerably longer, but for quite how long was uncertain, as neither of them spoke any English.

  The guards, who stood by while the prisoners washed, did not prevent their talking, so `George Simonds' and `Johnny Olourna' duly told their story, then obtained as much information as time allowed from the Robertson brothers about conditions in the prison.

  It emerged that it held two types of prisoner: themselves castaways who were being held illegally on security grounds and a number of Russian soldiers serving sentences for various derelictions of duty. The two groups were never allowed to mix and were exercised at different hours. There was no common dining hall, probably as a precaution against the detainees being together long enough to plan a mass attempt to break out. Food was brought to them three times daily in their cells. It was not too bad, but very monotonous. The heat was one of the worst afflictions, although they were allowed morning and evening to use the showers adjacent to the washroom. Another disadvantage was that no books or radio music were provided to help while away the intolerable monotony. And, last but not least, there was the terrible uncertainty about when, if ever, they would be restored to liberty.

  Back in their cells they were given for breakfast bowls of maize porridge and tea. At eight o'clock they were let out for an hour's exercise, being made to walk and run alternately in single file round the compound. The midday meal consisted of a hot stew containing both meat and vegetables, a pancake for pudding and two bananas. At five o'clock they were again let out, this time for a game of volley ball, then, after taking a shower, they were brought their evening meal cold pork, yam, and a sort of fruit salad consisting largely of diced coconut.

  In the intervals between exercising and meals Gregory had plenty of time to contemplate the possibility of escape. An attempt to suppress and overcome the guard who brought the meals was out of the question. Even if that could be done there were plenty of others about, all of them armed, and he had no doubt at all that they would not hesitate to use their weapons. An attempt at bribery appeared equally hopeless, as none of those to whom he had spoken understood English, French or German, and his Russian was so limited that he could not have put up a proposition to one of them. Even when he had tried to get them to fetch the French Captain, so that he could ask him for the loan of a few books, as a lead in possibly establishing regular communication with him, they had only shaken their heads, not in refusal but clearly because he had failed to make them understand his request.

  Short, therefore, of some unforeseen development, there remained only the possibility of finding some way to break out of his cell during the night. As the prison was a modern one, the lock on the cell door was prisoner proof, a steel plate covering the whole inner side, so that no keyhole offered any opportunity to pick the lock from within. The floor was solid cement, making it impossible to dig a tunnel; so were the walls. The ceilings were corrugated asbestos, so could not be broken through without some heavy tool. But the grilles…?

  Gregory's keenly searching eye had lit on the sector in which the prison architect had slipped up, and he smiled to himself. The wire mesh covered grilles on all four sides of the cell were each kept in place by from eight to twelve fair sized screws. They had only to be removed and the grilles could be lifted out. Fortunately, too, the cell on his other side from James was unoccupied; so if he could get to work on the screws there was no one there who might give away what he was doing and, as the guards never made a round of the cells after midnight, no fear of interruption.

  But had the architect really slipped up, or had he simply settled for the cheapest way of securing the grilles? The prison would have been originally designed only for defaulting soldiers. Should a Russian private or N.C.O. show the initiative to break prison, which in itself was unlikely, what chance would he stand of escaping from a tropical island? That, and the harsh punishment he might expect if caught, were the real deterrents; and Gregory had no illusions about the difficulty of getting away from Yuloga. But, regarding himself as considerably more resourceful than the average Russian peasant in uniform, he comforted himself by recalling Napoleon's saying, `It will be time to talk of the Vistula when we are over the Rhine.'

  As James was in the next cell there was nothing to stop their talking and if they stood on their beds they could even see each other through the grille above the dividing wall. That night, adopting this means of coming face to face so that they could keep their voices low, Gregory told James of his plan and that the first thing needed was something with which to loosen the screws. Neither of them had anything in his possession that would serve, but they agreed to keep their eyes open.

  On the third evening James was lucky. While they were playing volley ball he saw on the ground a small half moon of shining metal. It was the worn down part heel with which Russian soldiers' boots are reinforced, and this one had come off. Pretending to slip and fall, he palmed it; then, a few minutes later, bumped into Gregory and passed it to him.

  The cells were longer than they were broad, so the grille in the outer wall had only eight screws in it; but, having only a small implement which was awkward to handle and, even standing on his bed, only being just able to reach the top three screws near the ceiling, it took him several hours' work during two nights before he had all the screws loosened.

  The following day he passed the worn metal heel to James so that he could start work on his grille, but he had no intention of waiting until his friend could accompany him on a fi
rst reconnaissance. Gregory had always maintained that, in inverse ratio to the old saying `one boy working in a garden is a boy and two boys only half a boy', two operatives working together doubled the danger to each of them, so, whenever possible, he had played the role of a lone wolf.

  That night, having waited until well after midnight, he removed the grille. Standing on his bed, he peered cautiously out. Having made certain that no sentry was patrolling outside the prison, he had no difficulty in straddling the exposed top of the wall and dropping down on the other side.

  After listening intently for a few minutes, he made his way slowly round the perimeter of the military establishment, watching every step and, instead of walking toe and heel, putting his feet down flat. A few lights were on here and there, but no one was about, so he edged his way between some buildings until he could get a view of the office block in which he and James had been interrogated. In front of it a sentry was patrolling. Satisfied now that provided they kept outside the area of buildings there was nothing to stop their getting away into the jungle, he returned to the prison, climbed back into his cell and, while replacing the grating, told James, who had been anxiously awaiting his return, what he had so far discovered.

  Next night he went out again. On his first reconnaissance he had seen that, while several tracks led out from the settlement, all except one were dirt roads. The exception was metalled. It led uphill out of the valley and he followed it until he reached the crest of the ridge. From there he could see down into another valley. A rising moon now lit it quite clearly and, as he had expected, he was able to verify a supposition he had formed on finding that the island was garrisoned by Russians. The moonlight revealed blocks of hutments, tall gantries and a number of great launching pads from several of which there rose giant rockets. Clearly the French had allowed the Russians to take over Yuloga as a base for launching inter continental missiles. It was no wonder that the Russians were taking such extreme precautions to ensure that no one landed on the island without their knowledge and to protect the secret of their presence there by arbitrarily detaining anyone who came ashore.