The Island Where Time Stands Still

by Dennis Wheatley

  For a moment they were a tangled heap on the ground. With his free foot Gregory kicked out again. His heel caught the coolie on the Adam’s apple. Giving an agonising gulp, he let go of the ankle he was clutching and they rolled apart. Next minute they had staggered to their feet with barely two yards separating them.

  Both were panting from their exertions. As they fought to get their breath they stood with heads thrust forward, eyeing one another warily. Now, for the first time, Gregory felt concern about the outcome of the conflict. The coolie was by far the bigger man and overtopped his five foot ten by several inches. Moreover the half-naked arms that protruded from his robe were as long and sinewy as those of a gorilla. Gregory’s ribs had mended well, but he knew that if he once let those arms close round them he would be finished.

  3

  The Price of Curiosity

  So far Gregory’s desperate encounter with the coolie had not lasted much more than a minute. During it no sound had broken the stillness of the moonlit garden except their gasps, the thud of their falls and a curious malevolent hissing that the coolie was making as he glared at his attacker. Suddenly the night was pierced by a high-pitched scream. The breath had been driven out of the body of the woman by the violence of her fall, but now she had got it back, freed her head from the cloth in which it was muffled, and let out a shriek fit to raise the dead.

  At that very second the coolie was in the act of launching himself forward. His long arms were outstretched to seize Gregory, but her wailing cry caused him to bungle the attempt. That sudden, unexpected, screech in his rear made him half turn his head. The moon was shining straight on his face, and Gregory saw the ferocious hatred in his gleaming eyes instantly give way to fear of capture. Taking advantage of his momentary hesitation, Gregory swiftly side-stepped and, as the man rushed in, tripped him.

  Just for a moment, as the coolie pitched forward, their bodies brushed together. Gregory’s right fist shot out and landed heavily behind his enemy’s ear. Already off balance, the man lurched sideways and crashed to the ground. Instantly, Gregory was upon him. Grabbing his left wrist he wrenched his arm behind his back and gave it a violent jerk. He heard the bone snap. The woman was still screaming, and now the coolie’s screams were added to hers.

  In spite of the pain he was in, the man still struggled desperately. Squirming round, he managed to get to his knees, thrust out his good arm and grab Gregory by the throat. His grip was like a vice. Tearing at the coolie’s hand with both his own, Gregory strove to break the grip; but could not. His eyes began to bulge, the blood beat in his ears. Suddenly he ceased pulling away, threw himself against the man and kneed him in the groin. The stroke had not much weight behind it, but enough. The stranglehold loosened for a moment and he was able to jerk his head free.

  Cries in answer to those of the woman were now coming from the house. Somewhere in it a gong was being loudly banged. With its reverberations and the shouts was mingled the patter of running footsteps. Both men struggled to their feet. The coolie’s left arm dangled uselessly by his side, and now that his grip had been broken his last hope of revenging himself was gone. Flight once more took first place in his mind. Swerving away, he dashed towards the thicker bushes. In a second Gregory was after him. Flinging himself at the man’s knees in a rugby tackle, he brought him down.

  The struggle lasted only a few moments longer. Half a dozen people in various states of attire burst upon the scene. Several men grabbed both Gregory and the coolie, pulled them apart and hauled them to their feet. One, who from the glance Gregory caught of him looked much older than the rest, sought to reassure the woman, although she had already ceased screaming and showed no signs of hysteria. Another very fat woman, wheezing loudly from having had to run, joined them belatedly and added her shrill, excited inquiries to the general clamour.

  Raising his voice, the elderly man uttered several staccato sentences. At once silence fell, and as he turned away a short procession formed, the two women falling in behind him and the others leading the two captives after them in the direction of the house. They did not enter it by the french window but took a path leading through the shrubbery to the side of the house facing away from the lake, which was evidently its main entrance. After mounting a flight of steps, they passed through big sliding lattice-work doors into a spacious hall that was richly furnished, entirely in the Chinese manner.

  It was well but softly lit, and for the first time Gregory could get a good look at the people with whom he had to deal. A glance was enough to show that all the men were servants—with the exception of the one who had given the orders, and he was obviously the master of the house. He was old, tall and very thin. He wore no pigtail, but had a long sparse grey beard, and thin drooping moustache. The robe he was wearing had a plum-coloured ground on which were embroidered, in gold thread and many-hued silks, a gorgeous array of dragons, butterflies and improbable flowers. On the top of his round skull-cap was a large button, which proclaimed him to be a Mandarin.

  As he seated himself in a high-backed, carved ebony chair the woman whom the coolie had attempted to carry off went and stood beside him. Gregory could see now that she was still a girl, and he judged her to be about twenty-two. She had a broad forehead, bright intelligent eyes and a firm chin. As she sought to tidy her ruffled hair he noticed that she wore it swept up in a high double wave that formed a dark halo, making her golden-tinted face pale by contrast, and that it was cut short at the back. Her eyebrows were thin and tapering, her mouth full. Her features, although oriental, were not flattened. Both she and the old man had prominent noses set between high cheek-bones, which suggested that they were Manchus of noble blood. The fat, older woman did not resemble either of them, and from her nervous, hen-like manner Gregory rightly assumed that she was the girl’s duenna.

  The Mandarin asked the girl a question, to which she replied volubly, pointing several times at the coolie. He stood with hanging head between the men who held him, making no attempt to defend himself. When questioned he babbled something, then threw himself on his knees. At an order from the Mandarin he was pulled to his feet and led away.

  Gregory was standing between two of the servants, but they were no longer actually holding him; so, knowing the value of making a good impression, he swiftly untied the girdle of the loose robe he was wearing and slipped it off. It had become soiled and torn while he was struggling on the ground, so in it he looked like a tatterdemalion of dubious origin; but now, in his dinner-jacket suit, he stood revealed as a white man of the upper class.

  The girls’s face showed her surprise and lit up with a sudden smile, but that of the old man remained impassive, as he asked in English:

  ‘Who are you?’

  Gregory bowed. ‘My name, honoured Sir, is Sallust. I am a British subject, and the unhappy survivor of a wreck.’

  ‘How comes it that you are in my garden?’

  ‘I was taking a midnight walk. On the roadside there is no indication that this delightful domain is private. As a humble lover of beauty I felt compelled to enter it, so that I could better admire the most artistic manner in which the trees and shrubberies are set out.’

  Evidently the owner of the garden did not understand this in its entirety, as he gave a questioning look at the girl. She quickly supplied an interpretation of the words that puzzled him, upon which he nodded gravely and said to Gregory:

  ‘You wear the ceremonial dress of a Western Barbarian, but you speak the words of a civilised man. Do you know the Chinese tongue?’

  ‘Your Excellency’s fluency in English puts my ignorance to shame. My knowledge of mandarin is limited to a few phrases.’

  ‘My own English is poor but perhaps adequate, and my daughter understands it better than myself. We shall continue to use it.’ With a wave of his hand the old gentleman added, ‘Please seat yourself.’ Then he gave an order to the servants in Chinese.

  When they had trotted from the room, the Mandarin said that his name was Sze Hsüan, and
introduced his daughter as the lady A-lu-te. With downcast eyes she then thanked Gregory for having saved her from being carried off, and asked him to enlighten them further about himself.

  Seeing no reason to conceal the truth, he gave an abbreviated version of the wreck and of his treatment since he had been washed up on the island. The old man knew Dr. Ping, and all about the cage. Regarding Gregory thoughtfully, he said:

  ‘In confining you Ho-Ping acted rightly. He obeyed an order of long standing. I marvel only that you escaped without injury from the fence—or was it that you used force upon the guard?’

  Gregory had no intention of giving away his escape route in case he wished to use it again, so he lied smoothly. ‘In my own country I have had the good fortune to win many athletic events. I got out of my room by making a hole in the ceiling. From the roof, unseen by the guard, I took a running leap, cleared the fence at the back of the building, and landed on the cliff-face.’

  ‘You took a great risk. Few men could accomplish such a feat. But few men could have made to bite dust that big coolie. To converse with a cultured man who is also brave is elevating to both heart and mind.’

  As Gregory acknowledged the compliment a servant brought in tea. It was served cermoniously in tiny cups by A-lu-te, first to Gregory then to her father.

  After commenting politely on the exceptionally fine aroma of the brew, Gregory held up the fragile cup and inquired, ‘Are these originals, or may I congratulate you on having succeeded in producing such treasures in your factory?’

  The Mandarin’s eyelids dropped a fraction lower. ‘So you have found out about our industries. That is to be regretted.’

  ‘Honoured Sir,’ Gregory smiled. ‘Had I not taken occasion to admit it, you would certainly have suspected that I might have done so. In any case you must know that on my midnight walk I could not help being amazed at finding a great civilisation flourishing on what is believed to be an almost uninhabited Pacific Island. What is one secret more or less when it forms only part of a far greater secret. The manner in which you deal with me will not be influenced by my knowledge of your commercial activities.’

  Again the girl had to make clear for her father the more involved portions of this longer speech: then he said. ‘Your discourse shows wisdom. But your future does not lie in my hands.’

  ‘Then may I be permitted to know in whose hands it does lie?’ Gregory asked.

  ‘In that of the Council of State. To it authority in such matters has been delegated by the Son of Heaven.’

  Gregory knew that in the old days when the Chinese were ruled by an Emperor they never used his title or spoke of him by name as long as he was alive: instead they referred to him by flowery pseudonyms of which ‘Son of Heaven’ was their favourite. But for over forty years now China had been a Republic. Could it be that the authority of which Sze Hsüan spoke had been delegated all that time ago, and that this Chinese colony, protected from molestation by the fact that its existence was secret, continued to observe the Imperial decrees of a long since vanished regime; or did he refer to someone on the island whom they had made its ruler? In the hope of solving the point Gregory put an apparently irrelevant question.

  ‘Dr. Ping told me. Excellency that this island is charted as Leper Settlement Number Six; but it is obvious that your beautiful buildings could not have been erected by lepers, and I have seen no signs of that terrible scourge in any of its inhabitants. Have you succeeded in stamping it out?’

  ‘We were not called on to do so.’ came the quiet reply. ‘This was one of several leper settlements started by the Portuguese Fathers long years ago. Already it had ceased to be one when we came. To have renamed it would have been to arouse the curiosity of the inquisitive. In our circumstances it was preferable to let sleeping dogs sleep.’

  That gave Gregory the lead he was seeking, and he said, ‘Inquisitiveness in the affairs of others is rightly stigmatised as a mark of ill-breeding; yet I would not be human were I not tempted to inquire the origin of the rich community now established here.’

  The Mandarin did not understand English nearly as well as he spoke it, and again his daughter had to help him out. When she had done so, choosing his phrases carefully he said with a faint smile:

  ‘That is understandable. As your eyes have discovered so much, why should I not enlighten you regarding our brief history? We are the survivors of the old China—of all that was best in China during the long centuries before the Western Barbarians came to pervert our people. First the Missionaries, then the Concessionaires with the soldiers at their backs. They taught the young to reject the precepts for the conduct of life. To think only of self. To forget their ancestors. They undermined authority. That was in the time of your Queen Victoria. In the new century the poison they had put in the pot caused it to over-boil. In 1908, with the death of the Great Empress Mother, Yehonala, the last protecting rock of our traditions was swept away. The Emperor was still a small child. After a time of dissension comes open rebellion. A Republic is proclaimed. In 1912 the Emperor abdicates, but remains in Pekin as guest of his own country. China’s more recent history you will know. Upstart War Lords tear the land between them. They ravish it. The Bolshevik agents add to its disruption, the Japanese seize great portions of it. The World War brings further calamities. The defeat of Japan gives the Russians their opportunity. Chiang-Kai-shek is driven out to Formosa. Anarchy is the food of Communism. With its triumph there follows the final abolition of the virtuous life.’

  The old man paused for a moment, then went on. ‘After the death of the Great Empress Mother, my honoured father and a circle of his friends foresee much of these happenings. They weep from knowing that the old China is doomed. There are seven of them. All are of high descent and having great wealth. They wish to preserve the ancient teachings. They wish their children should be brought up in a state of right-mindedness. For this they see that they must leave China. Wise men do not act rashly. Years pass. They send their fortunes to London, New York, Buenos Aires, Amsterdam. In their houses they gather learned men and great artists. By 1913 the boy Emperor has abdicated. He came of a junior line. His education is in the hands of a Western Barbarian. For these reasons the heads of the Seven Families reject his suzerainty. The posthumous son of the Emperor Tung-chih is thirty-eight and in all ways suitable. He is chosen to rule over us. In the years many remote places have been inspected. The choice falls on this island.’

  Again the Mandarin paused, and this time supped up another tiny bowl of tea before continuing. ‘Those who demand everything end with nothing. This island is too near the equator to grow mulberry trees for silk-worms. We must import our China clay. The hills hold no stone worthy to be carved. A greater matter weighed the choice. It had to be a territory owned by a small power. Thus only could we barter money for special rights. By secret treaty we bought from the Portuguese a lease of a thousand years less one. The treaty makes us subjects of Portugal but our own masters in the island. They surrendered the right of tax, to involve in war, to inspect, to govern. In 1913 the son of Tung-chih and the Seven Families leave China very quietly. With them they take their scholars and artists. Also from their estates in the interior many servants who have not been corrupted by Christianity or the Socialism of the revolutionary Dr. Sun-yat-sen. Here, while the Barbarians of the West seek to destroy one another in their first Great War, we build a small old China in a new land. We can grow rice, many vegetables and many fruits. We have the secrets of China’s ancient industries. These give us a larger revenue than we need. We observe the ancient rites. We conduct ourselves in accordance with the teachings of the Great Sage. We have no ambitions. Only to live graciously, and to perpetuate a way of life that long experience has shown leads to the well-being of the spirit. In that we are successful, while the outer world is disrupted by irresponsible men seeking power through innovations. Here we live like a placid stream—ever unruffled yet ever renewed. We have learned the wisdom of making Time stand still.’


  Gregory had listened to the old man with intense interest. Knowing the patience, the wisdom, and the devotion to tradition of the high-caste Chinese, he found nothing the least improbable in this account of the carefully planned salvaging of their ancient civilisation. Smiling, he said:

  ‘Please allow me to offer my congratulations, Excellency. In this age of instability and disillusion it is a remarkable achievement to have created a Utopian State. I could almost believe that I have arrived in Shangri-La.’

  Sze Hsüan did not understand the allusion, but his daughter did, and said a little sharply, ‘Apart from its buildings. Sir, you will find little in this island which resembles the imaginary country described in Mr. James Hilton’s beautiful book. Here we have not learned the way to retain youth and beauty beyond its normal span, or to prolong our lives until we feel a desire to cast off our bodies for good. We are subject to all normal ills, vices and temptations. I do not question my honoured father’s contention that here there is better opportunity to follow the path of virtue than in the outer world, but do not let that lead you to suppose that we have achieved a state near perfection. The population is normally law-abiding, but occasionally criminals emerge from it. This very night, but for your fortunate presence and gallant intervention, I should have fallen a victim to one who has certainly not benefited from the ancient teachings.’