The Eye of the Tiger

by Wilbur Smith

  Once again the tide and surf were pouring alarmingly into the pool, and the whaleboat tossed and kicked impatiently as we lifted the chest inboard and laid it on the canvas-covered heap of scuba bottles in the bows.

  Then at last Chubby could start the motors and take us out through the channel. We were still all high with excitement, and the silver flask passed from hand to hand.

  “What’s it feel like to be rich, Chubby?” I called, and he took a swallow from the flask, screwing up his eyes and then coughing at the sting of the liquor before he grinned at me. “Just like before, man. No change yet.”

  “What are you going to do with your share? Sherry insisted. ”

  “It’s a little late in the day, Miss. Sherry - if only I had it twenty years ago, then I have use for it - and how.” He took other swallow. “That’s the trouble - you never have it en you’re young, and when you’re old, it’s just too late.”

  “What about you, Angelo? Sherry turned to him as he perched on the rusted pay-chest, with his gipsy curls heavy “with rain dangling on to his cheeks and the droplets clinging in the long dark eyelashes. “You’re still young, what will you do?” Miss. Sherry, I’ve been sitting here thinking about it, and already I’ve got a list from here to St. Mary’s and back.” It took two trips from the beach to the camp before we had both the head and the chest out of the rain and into the cave we were using as the store room.

  Chubby lit two gas lanterns, for the lowering sky had brought on the evening prematurely, and. we gathered around the chest, while the golden head snarled down upon us from a place of honour, an earthen ledge hewn into the aback of the cave.

  With a* hacksaw and jemmy bar, Chubby and I began work on the locking device and found immediately that the decrepit appearance of the metal was deceptive, clearly it had been hardened and alloyed. We broke three hacksaw blades in the first half hour and Sherry professed to be severely shocked by my language. I sent her to fetch a bottle of Chivas Regal from our cave to keep the workers in good cheer and Chubby and I took the Scottish equivalent of a tea break.

  With renewed vigour we resumed our assault on the case, but it was another twenty minutes before he had sawn through the rod. By that time it was dark outside the cave. The rain was still hissing down steadily, but the soft clatter of the palm fronds heralded the rising westerly wind that would disperse the storm. clouds by morning.

  With the locking rod sawn through, we started it from its ringbolts with a two-pound hammer from the toolbox. Each blow loosened a soft patter of rust scales from the surface of the metal, and it required a number of goodly blows to drive the rod from the clutching fist of corrosion.

  Even when it was cleared, the lid would not lift. Although we hammered it from a dozen different directions and I treated it with a further laying on of abuse, it would not yield.

  I called another whisky break to discuss the problem. “What about a stick of gelly?” Chubby suggested with a gleam in his eye, but reluctantly I had to restrain him.

  “We need a welding torch,” Angelo announced. “Brilliant,” I applauded him ironically, for I was fast losing my patience. “The nearest welding set is fifty miles away - and you make a remark like that.”

  It was Sherry who discovered the secondary locking device, a secret pinning through the lid that hooked into recesses in the body of the chest. It obviously needed a key to release this, but for lack of it I selected a half-inch punch and drove it into the keyhole and by luck I caught the locking arm and snapped it.

  Chubby started on the lid again, and this time it came up stiffly on corroded hinges with some of the rotting evilsmelling contents sticking to the inside of it and tearing away from the main body of aged brown cloth. It was woven cotton fabric, a wet solid brick of it, and I guessed that it had been cheap native robes or bolts of cloth used as packing.

  I was about to explore further, but suddenly found myself in the second row looking over Sherry North’s shoulder. “You’d better let me do this,” she said. “You might break something. “Come on!” I protested.

  “Why don’t you get yourself another drink?” she suggested placatingly, as she began lifting off layers of sodden fabric. The suggestion had some merit, I thought, so I refilled my mug and watched Sherry expose a layer of clo&wrapped parcels.

  Each was tied with twine that fell apart at the touch, and the first parcel also disintegrated as she tried to lift it out. Sherry cupped her hand around the decaying mass and scooped it on to a folded tarpaulin placed beside the chest. The parcel contained scores of small nutty objects, varying in size from slightly larger than a matchhead to a ripe grape and each had been folded in a wisp of paper, which, like the cotton, had completely rotted away.

  Sherry picked out one of these lumpy objects and rubbed away the remnants of paper between thumb and forefinger to reveal a large shiny blue stone, cut square and polished on one face.

  “Sapphire?” she guessed, and I took it from her and examined it quickly in the lantern light. It was opaque and I contradicted her.

  No, I think it’s probably lapis lazuli.” The scrap of paper still adhering to it was faintly discoloured with a blue dye. “Ink, I should say.” I crumpled. it between my fingers. “At least Roger, the Colonel, took the trouble to identify each stone. He probably wrapped each piece in a numbered slip of paper which related to a master sketch of the throne to enable it to be reassembled.”

  “There is no hope of that now,” said Sherry.

  “I don’t know I said. “it would be a hell of a job, but it would still be possible to put it all together again.”

  Amongst our stores was a roll of plastic packets, and I sent Angelo to ferret it out. As we opened each parcel of rotted fabric we superficially cleaned the stones it contained and packed each lot in a separate plastic packet.

  It was slow work even though we all contributed and after almost two hours of it we had filled dozens of packets with thousands of semi-precious stones - lapis lazuli, beryl, tigees eye, garnets, verdite, amethyst, and half a dozen others of whose identity I was uncertain. Each stone had clearly been lovingly cut and exactingly polished to fit into its own niche in the golden throne.

  It was only when we had unpacked the chest to its last layer that we came upon the stones of greater value. The old Colonel had obviously selected these first and they had gone into the lowest layer of the chest.

  I held a transparent plastic packet of emeralds to the lantern light, and they burned like a bursting green star.

  We all stared at it as if mesmerized while I turned it slowly to catch the fierce white light.

  I laid it aside and Sherry dipped once more into the chest and after a moment’s hesitation brought out a smaller parcel. She rubbed away the damp crumbling material, that was wound thick about the single stone it contained.

  Then she held up the Great Mogul diamond in the cupped palm of her hand. It was the size of a pullet’s egg, cut into a faceted cushion shape, just as Jean Baptiste Tavernier had described it so many hundred years ago.

  The glittering array of treasure we had handled before in no way dimmed the glory of this stone, as all the stars of the firmament cannot dull the rising of the sun. They paled and faded away before the brilliance and lustre of the great diamond.

  Sherry slowly extended her cupped hand towards Angelo, offering it to him to hold and examine, but he snatched his hands away and clasped them behind his back, still staring at the stone in superstitious awe.

  Sherry turned and offered it to Chubby, but with gravity he declined also.

  “Give it to Mister Harry. Guess he deserves to be the one.”

  I took it from her, and was surprised that such unearthly fire could be so cold to touch. I stood up and I carried it to where the golden tiger’s head stood snarling angrily in the unwavering light of the lanterns and I pressed the diamond into the empty eye socket.

  It fitted perfectly, and I used my baitknife to close the golden clasps that held it firmly in place, and which the
old Colonel had probably opened with a bayonet a century and a quarter ago.

  I stood back then, and I heard the small gasps of wonder. With the eye returned to its socket the golden beast had come to life. It seemed now to survey us with an imperial mien, and at any instant we expected the cave to resound to its crackling wicked snarl of anger.

  I went back and took my place in the squatting circle around the rusted chest, and we all stared up at the golden tiger head. We seemed like worshippers in some ancient heathen tire, crouched in awe before the fearsome idol.

  “Chubby, my old well beloved and trusted buddy, you will earn yourself an entry on the title page of the book of mercy if you pass me that bottle,” I said, and that broke the spell. They all recovered their voices competing fiercely for a turn to speak - and it wasn’t long before I had to send Sherry to fetch another bottle to lubricate dry throats.

  We all got more than a little drunk that night, even Sherry North, and she leaned against me for support as we finally made a riotous way through the rain to our own cave.

  “You really are corrupting me, Fletcher,” she stumbled into a puddle, and nearly brought me down. “This is the first time ever I have been stoned.”

  “Be of good cheer, my pretty sweeting, your next lesson in corruption follows immediately.”

  When I woke it was still dark and I rose from our bed, careful not to disturb Sherry who was Wbreathing lightly and evenly in the darkness. It was cool so I pulled on shorts and a woollen jersey.

  Outside the cave the west wind had broken up the cloud banks. It had stopped raining and the stars were showing in the breaks of the heavens, giving me enough light to read the luminous dial of my wristwatch. It was a little after three o’clock.

  As I sought my favourite palm tree, I saw that we had left the lantern burning in the storage cave. I finished what I had to do and went up to the lighted entrance.

  The open chest stood where we had left it, as did the priceless golden head with its glittering eye - and suddenly I was struck with the consuming terror that the miser must feel for his hoard. It was so vulnerable.

  “ - where thieves break in-” I thought, and it was not as though there were any shortage of them in the immediate vicinity.

  I had to get it all stowed away safely, and tomorrow would be too late. Despite the pain in my head and the taste of stale whisky in the back of my throat, it must be done now - but I needed help.

  Chubby roused to my first soft call at the entrance of his cave, and came out into the starlight, resplendent in his striped pyjamas and as wide awake as if he had drank nothing more noxious than mother’s milk before retiring.

  I explained my fears and misgivings. Chubby grunted in agreement and went with me back to the storage cave. The plastic bags of gem stones we repacked casually into the iron chest and I secured the lid with a length of nylon line. The golden head we shrouded carefully in a length of green canvas tarpaulin and we carried both down into the palm grove, before returning for spades and the gas lantern.

  By the flat white glare of the lantern we worked side by side, digging two shallow graves in the sandy soil within a few feet of where the gelignite and the FN rifle with its spare ammunition were already buried.

  We laid the chest and the golden head away and covered them.

  Afterwards I brushed the soil over them with a palm frond to wipe out all trace of our labours.

  “You happy now, Harry?” Chubby asked at last.

  “Yeah, I’m happier, Chubby. You go and get some sleep, hear.”

  He went away amongst the palms carrying the lantern and not looking back. I knew I would not be able to sleep again, for the spadework had cleared my head and roused my blood. It would be senseless to return to the cave and try to lie quietly beside Sherry until dawn.

  I wanted to find some quiet and secret place where I could think out my next moves in this intricate game of chance in which I was involved. I chose the path that led to the saddle between the lesser peaks and as I climbed it, the last of the clouds were blown aside and revealed a pale yellow moon still a week from full. Its light was strong enough to show me the way to the nearest peak and I left the path and toiled upwards to the summit.

  I found a place protected from the wind and settled into it. I wished that I had a cheroot with me for I think better with one of them in my mouth. I also think better without a hangover - but there was nothing I could do about either.

  After half an hour I had firmly decided that we must consolidate what we had gained to this point. The miser’s fears, which had assailed me earlier still persisted and I had been given clear warning that the wolf pack was out hunting. As soon as it was light we would take what we had salvaged so far - the head and the chest - and run down the island to St. Mary’s to dispose of them in the manner which I had already so carefully planned.

  There would be time later to return to Gunfire Reef and recover what remained in the misty depths of the pool. Once the decision had been made I felt a lift of relief, a new lightness of spirit, and I looked forward to the solution of the other major puzzle that had troubled me for so long.

  Very soon I would be in a position to call Sherry North’s hand and have a sight of those cards which she concealed so carefully from me. I wanted to know what caused those shadows in the blue depths of her eyes, and the answers to many other mysteries that surrounded her. That time would soon come.

  There was a paling of the sky at last, dawn’s first pearling light spread across from the east and softened the harsh dark plain of the ocean. I rose stiffly from my seat amongst the rocks, and picked my way around the peak into the wicked eye of the west wind. I stood there on the exposed face above the camp with the wind raising a rash of goose bumps along my arms and ruffling my hair.

  I looked down into the sheltering arms of the lagoon, and in the feeble glimmer of dawn, the darkened ship that was creeping stealthily into the open arms of the bay looked like some pale phantom.

  Even as I stared I saw the splash at her bows as she let go her anchor, and she rounded up into the wind showing her full silhouette so that I could not doubt that she was the Mandrake.

  Before I had recovered my wits, she had dropped a boat which sped in swiftly towards the beach.

  I started to run.

  fell once on the path, but the force of my headlong descent from the peak carried me on and with a single roll I was on my feet again, still running.

  I was panting wildly as I burst into Chubby’s cave, and I shouted, “Move, man, move! They are on the beach already.”

  The two of them tumbled from their sleeping bags. Angelo was tousle-haired and blank-eyed from sleep, but Chubby was quick and alert.

  “Chubby,” I snapped, “go get that piece out of the ground. jump, man, they’ll be coming up through the grove in a few minutes.” He had changed while I spoke, Pulling on a shirt and belting his denim breeches. He grunted an acknowledgement. “I’ll follow you in a minute,” I called as he ran out into the feeble light of dawn.

  “Angelo, snap out of it!” I grabbed his shoulder and shook him.

  “I want you to look after Miss. Sherry, hear?”

  He was dressed now and he nodded owlishly at me. “Come on.” I half dragged him as we ran across to my cave. I dragged her out of bed and while she dressed I told her.

  “Angelo will go with you. I want you to take a can of drinking water and the two of you get the hell down to the south of the island, cross the saddle first though and keep out of sight. Climb the peak and hide out in the chimney where we found the inscription. You know where I mean.”

  “Yes, Harry,“she nodded.

  “Stay there. Don’t go out or show yourself under any circumstances. Understand?”

  She nodded as she tucked the tail of her shirt into her breeches.

  “Remember, these people are killers. The time for games is over, this is a pack of wolves that we are dealing with.”

  “Yes, Harry, I know.”

  “Oka
y then,” I embraced and kissed her quickly. “Off you go then.” And they went out of the cave, Angelo lugging a fivegallon can of drinking water, and they trotted away into the palm grove.

  Quickly I threw a few items into a light haversack, a box of cheroots, matches, binoculars, water bottle and a heavy jersey, a tin of “chocolate and of survival rations, a torch and I buckled my belt around my waist with the heavy baitknife in the sheath. Slinging the strap of the haversack over my shoulder, I also ran from the cave and followed Chubby down into the palm grove towards the beach.

  I had run fifty yards when there was the thud, thudding of small-arms fire, a shout and another burst of firing. It was directly ahead of me and very close.

  I paused and slipped behind the hole of the palm tree while I peered into the lightening shades of the grove. I saw movement, a figure running towards me and I loosened the baivknife in its sheath and waited until I was sure, before I called softly, “Chubby?” The running figure swerved towards me. He was carrying the IN rifle and the canvas bandolier with spare magazines of ammunition, and he was breathing quickly but lightly as he saw me.

  They spotted me,” he grunted. “There are hundreds of the bastards.”

  At that moment I saw more movement amongst the trees.

  “Here they come,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  I wanted to give Sherry a clear run, so I did not take the path across the saddle, but turned directly southwards to lead the pursuit off her scent. We headed for the swamps at the southern end of the island.

  They saw us as we ran obliquely across their front. I heard a shout, answered immediately by others, and then there were five scattered shots and I saw the muzzle flashes bloom amongst the dark trees. A bullet struck a palm trunk high above our head, a woody thunk, but we were going fast and within minutes the shouts of pursuit were fading behind us.

  I reached the edge of the salt marsh, and swung away inland to avoid the stinking mudflats. On the first gentle slope of the hills I halted to listen and to regain our breath. The light was strengthening swiftly now. Within a short while it would be sunrise and I wanted to be under cover before then.