The shipboard noises faded away, and she was suddenly conscious of the sound of her own breathing. Running away? She had always been running away. But it had taken a big ignorant Australian to tell her to her face.
She turned on him angrily. `Do you know what you’re saying? D’you think I’ve got any personal feelings about coming on a crummy job like this? What d’you know about it, anyway?’
He held up his hand. `Steady on there! It was just an idea I had.’
`Well, keep it to yourself! Just because I’m the only civilized being around here doesn’t mean I’m peculiar!’
`Forget it.’ He didn’t apologize, but instead turned to Old Buka..
`Bring her round to the nor’west, damn you!’
The one-eyed helmsman grinned, and spun the spokes with casual ease.
‘D’you always talk to them like that?’
`Who, the boongs?’ Fraser looked perplexed.
`So that’s what you call them.’ She had regained her composure and met his stare calmly. `One of these days Old Buka and his like will probably be in a position to call you names!’
`Hell! I don’t understand you. Old Buka’s a good joker, but I wouldn’t exactly call him civilized!’ Fraser looked across at the native affectionately.
`And are you? What have you done with your life?’ It was amazing how safe she felt once she was controlling the conversation. Why did everyone have to spoil things?
`Nothing much, I suppose. Took over the boat from my old man when he died and carried on the trading, an’ a bit of pearling when I get the chance.’
`Never been away from here, I suppose?’
Fraser frowned. `Apart from the war, no. When that was on I went over to England an’ joined up.’ He laughed as if it was a huge joke.
`Why? What did you owe to England?’
His eyes narrowed. `I owe nothing to anybody. But I went because I’m an Australian, an’ that should be enough, even for a Yank!’
He stiffened suddenly and grasped her arm. For a moment she thought he was going to strike her, but his expression was completely absorbed. `Look.’ He pointed over the rail to where the water wallowed from beneath the counter. `Look at that one!’
She looked down into the clear water, and for a while could see nothing but the shadow of the hull, and deep blue, which gave the sea the impression of having no bottom. Then a shape moved lazily near to the surface, and involuntarily she moved back. Long and greyish brown, with strange dark stripes across its body, the shark looked huge and terrifying. She heard Fraser mutter, `That goddamned fool Blair should be here to see this.’
`What about it?’ Her voice sounded small.
`It’s a tiger shark, Miss Bligh.’ He smiled, but his eyes were hard. `The first I’ve seen this month. Blair didn’t seem
to think I knew what I was talking about, but by God I could set my watch by ‘em!’
They watched in silence as the great beast swam easily in the shade of the schooner’s shadow. Eighteen or twenty feet, she imagined, and each stroke of the powerful tail twisted the streamlined body slightly; so that she could see the small, cold eyes glittering from beneath the surface.
Fraser shivered. Jeez, I was over the rail swimming this morning!’
He looked so hurt that the girl laughed, and Fraser stared at her with surprise.
`So you are afraid of something! I think I’m beginning to like you after all!’ She leaned back across the rail, and imagined the shark’s eyes on. her back. `Suppose I fell in, Captain? What would you do?’
Fraser wiped his hand across his chin and studied her speculatively. `I guess I’d nip over the side an’ give the poor tiger a hand!’
Blair, shaving in his cabin, cocked his head to listen to the laughter on deck. He stood frowning until he saw the reflection of his half-lathered face, and then continued with his task, his eyes studying the set expression around his mouth.
He had slept very well, for the first time for some while, and as he towelled his lean, hard body he felt that once more there was some purpose in his life.
Watute entered his cabin and picked up his cup from beside the bunk. ‘Captain say tiger shark alongside.’ He grinned hugely. ‘Think maybe you like him brought aboard!’ He chuckled and reached over to tidy some of Blair’s clothes.
Whether it was the implied jibe in .eraser’s message, or whether it was e, memory brought back by Watute’s black head as he stooped over his possessions, Blair did not stop to think. He s the boy round so that the cup clattered to the deck. He saw the expressions chase themselves across the boy’s face. Surprise, fear and then that bitter glimpse of savage distrust, which he had seen on the faces of the Burmese villagers who had betrayed him so many years before.
`Keep your paws off my gear, see!’ He shook the thin shoulder to emphasize his words. `When I need your help I’ll ask for it. Now get out!’
With a sob, Watute fled, and Blair forced himself to think calmly about what Fraser’s message had meant. Sharks were about, but what did that mean? He pulled on a clean shirt and combed his hair carelessly. The divers would be used to such risks, and Myers, too, was an experienced man. But in any case. he would not concern himself with those troubles. He jerked out his charts and studied them carefully, although he knew them like old friends. He tried to picture the wreck lying on the reef. After all these years he was coming to put right a wrong, and dispense with fears and suspicions once and for all.
He limped along the passage-way and climbed up to the sunlight. He sniffed the clean sea air and stretched his shoulders. It was all at once good to be alive.
He greeted Fraser and the girl and pointed to the islands. `What are those?’
`The Shepherd Group.’ Fraser puffed on his blackened pipe. `Another hundred and twenty miles to go for your reef.’
Blair walked to the rail and looked down at the shark. The cold, unwinking eyes gleamed distortedly at him, as the beast dipped and rose in the schooner’s swell. `Is that it?’ His voice was excited in spite of himself.
Fraser had gone from sight, and the girl stood watching him.
`Beautiful lines.’ Blair watched the dorsal fin momentarily break the surface. `Powerful, and completely independent.’
`You two should get together,’ Gillian remarked dryly.
Fraser reappeared, a rifle in his hands. ‘I’ll just show you how these jokers work,’ he said flatly. ‘Yalla! Just heave some of that bait overboard!’
The diver swung a gutted fish over the rail, and flashed his teeth as Fraser raised the rifle to his check.
As the fish hit the surface the shark sprang forward, and for an instant its whole body seemed about to collide with the hull. At that moment the rifle cracked, and the tiger shark swung completely over on to its back.
Gillian gasped as she saw the huge, crescent-shaped jaws, and the rows of cockscomb-like teeth bared in pain or rage, while the shark snapped savagely at the air.
The sea, which had been empty, was suddenly alive in a thrashing torment of grey shapes, as from nowhere the sharks fell upon their bleeding comrade. The water frothed pink, and then scarlet, and the watchers on the deck saw a crazy, fearful ballet of slashing jaws and crashing, plunging bodies.
Occasionally Fraser would say evenly, `That’s a whaler,’ or `Watch him, that’s another tiger,’ like a commentator at a football match.
The schooner surged on and the group by her taffrail watched in stunned silence as the snapping mass of sharks faded astern.
Gillian swayed, and felt her throat. `Did you have to do that?’ She felt sick.
Blair’s face was hard. `I think I understand what he was trying to do, Miss Bligh. He was trying to show us what we’re up against.’
Fraser jerked open the bolt and sent the cartridge-case spinning over the rail.
`Not “we”, Major. Them!’ He pointed towards the two divers who had returned to their work. ‘D’you still want to go on with it?’
Myers, who had silently joined them
, mopped his face with a fierce determination. `Well, -I for one will be wearin’ a suit!’ He still glared at the frothing water, and added quietly: ‘I only ‘ope them blighters don’t like the taste of it!’ He smiled anxiously at his feeble joke, but nobody else seemed to hear him.
Gillian stared from one to the other, not trusting herself to speak. Each of the men seemed to be vying with the others to prove something. Was it because of her? she wondered. Would it have been any different had she taken Grainger’s advice and stayed ashore?
Fraser tucked the rifle under his arm and started to relight his pipe. Round the stem he said slowly, `Still, maybe we’ll be lucky, eh?’
Blair watched the girl’s shoulders droop, and wondered what had ever prompted a girl like her to become a globetrotting journalist. She looked done in, and for an instant he wanted to comfort her, but something in her wide eyes prevented the right words from coming. Instead, he said, `Let’s hope we don’t see any more of them.’
A subdued Watute placed chairs round the table on the poop, and announced that breakfast was ready, and Fraser, after glancing at the compass, waved gravely towards them. `Breakfast, folks, if you feel like it?’
Blair met the girl’s eyes. `Come and sit down. You’ll feel better after you’ve eaten.’
As he reached to steady her arm she drew back, and he felt the old pain begin to throb in his foot. Her movement reminded him of Marcia.
Gillian had to grip her hands together to control her taut emotions, and the tone of Blair’s voice had almost made her lose control. But as she had automatically withdrawn her arm from his reach she had seen the shutter drop behind his eyes, and she had known that she was alone again.
Blair drew up his canvas chair to the table and sniffed the coffee. `You’re doing us very well, Captain.’ He consumed the thinly sliced paw-paw, apparently engrossed, but his eyes moved slowly round the small group, and his mind was alive and busy.
The trip had started badly, and he thought it was probably his own fault. All that must be remedied at once. He watched the girl as she toyed with her food, her eyes hidden by her glasses. She seemed just about all-in, and it was somehow out of character. He looked aloft at the high, tall mainsail.
`I suppose you will condense all this into a few well-chosen lines, Miss Bligh?’ He spoke evenly, but his blue eyes were serious and friendly. `I rather think the Captain here would make a more interesting story than mine.’
She played nervously with her fork, the black lenses of her glasses fixed on his face.
`I’m not sorry I came, Major Blair.’ Her voice was again steady, and she appeared to be giving his words a great deal of thought. `In spite of everything, I think I can understand how you feel about finding the wreck, although I can’t think what you hope to use in your discovery.’
Blair relaxed slightly. Myers was watching the girl with renewed interest, and knowing him as he did, Blair knew that the man was already thinking of something other than the sharks. Fraser, too, was smiling and at ease, one eye on the sails and the ship.
Watute cleared the table, and Fraser watched the boy curiously, noticing the sullen frown on his face.
Blair pulled the chart from beneath his chair, and spread it where they could all see. He placed his cigarette-case within their reach and leaned forward over the chart.
`You see where I’ve put the mark? That’s more or less the exact spot where the ship struck the reef. The airline pilot got a fairly good bearing at the time.’
Fraser’s mocking smile vanished as he craned his head to get a better glimpse at the position. They could hear his heavy breathing as he considered what he saw.
`Well?’ Blair watched his reactions through- narrowed eyes. `What’s the verdict?’ He saw the quickening professional interest in the big Australian’s face, and felt satisfied. If Fraser for once felt that his knowledge was being challenged, he might well avoid finding the wreck at all. Even the promised bonus money might not sway such a man.
`They couldn’t have hit a worse spot,’ he said at length.
Blair concealed his impatience. `Can you anchor there, or nearby?’
Fraser nodded slowly. `Near enough. It’s the eastern end of the reef. There is an extinct volcano at that end of the island
which will help to fix our position very well.’ He nodded again, as if satisfied.
The girl leaned her elbows on the chart, and Blair found himself looking down the front of her blouse. She lifted her head slightly and he quickly looked away.
`Are we calling anywhere first?’ she asked.
Blair glanced at Fraser. `I’m leaving that to the Skipper. He knows what I want, and he’ll know the best places to get information.’
`Sure, sure!’ Fraser grinned, and looked like a pirate. `There are only two jokers stupid enough to live on the island. One is the trader, a chap called Jim Hogan.’ He indicated a tiny bay at the western end of the island. `Resolution Bay. They say Cap’n Cook landed there once. Can’t think why. He’s a useful bloke, and can give us pretty up-to-date information about the local tribes.’ He shot a quick glance at the girl. `They’re all right, but I like to know what they’re doin’, see? Then there’s the mad missionary.’ He grinned at their expressions of surprise. `Yep, there really is. He runs what he calls a mission school here.’ He pointed to a spot at the southern tip of the island where the reef started its journey across the wide southern approaches. `His name is Ivor Spencer. Completely mad, of course, and he spends most of his time teachin’ hymns to the native kids and bewailin’ the state of the world.’
Blair’s voice was quiet. `But that must surely mean that the natives can’t be too fierce? I mean, Fraser, if they send their kids to school?’
Fraser sighed. `They’re only a few of the local boongs. There are a few coastal villages, which are more or less harmless.’ He tapped the chart again. `But you see this strip which crosses the whole of Hog Island from north to south? Well, that’s the Mota country. They don’t leave it much, ‘cause they don’t need to. I guess they just ignore old Spencer. He’s been there a few years, on an’ off.’
What about during the war?’ The girl asked the question, and Blair glanced at her in surprise. He had been about to put the same question.
`And during the war. Although he altered his camp quite a lot, I believe. He’s a queer cuss an’ no mistake. But it might pay us to question him,’ Fraser conceded.
Blair stared at the glittering water. During the war he had been on the island. He might even have seen the Sigli. `How far is his mission from the position of the wreck?’ His voice was calmer than he felt.
Fraser shook his head slowly. `Near eight miles, accordin’ to this. Unlikely that he saw anythin’.’
`Unless the boat passed in front of the point before the wreck.’
Gillian plucked at her blouse as the sun crossed over the rim of the mainsail.
`Could be.’ Fraser rubbed his chin. `We’ll ask him, anyway, but let me do the talking, eh?’
Blair controlled his smile. `Surely. But we mustn’t overlook anything.’
Fraser glanced quickly around the deck. `While we’re together like this,’ he began, and Blair saw that he was uncomfortable, `I just want to tell you about my mate, Michel. He’s a bit different from you, an’ I’d appreciate it if you didn’t fill his head with too many yarns about the outside world. It might make him unsettled,’ he added awkwardly.
`I hadn’t thought about it much.’ Blair relaxed again. He had thought that Fraser was about to raise a fresh problem. `But I shall try not to raise his hopes about mankind!’
Gillian sat, tight-shouldered, in her chair, her body seemingly taut with sudden irritation. `What is he, then? A poor animal or something?’
Fraser smiled soothingly. `It’s not that, miss, but he’s happy here, and I don’t want him hurt.’
Myers wiped his palms on his trousers. ”E’s all right. Bit full of ‘imself, but then all Wogs are a bit like that, ain’t they? I remember whe
n I was in Alex durin’ the war-‘
Fraser planted a fist on the table and cut him short. `He’s no Wog, see? He’s a good bloke, but a bit simple, an’ I don’t want him upset!’
Myers grinned, showing his small teeth. `Suits me, mate. I don’t care what ‘e is.’
Blair winced. Practically my own words. He stood up, and walked to the rail where the girl had hurried as soon as Fraser had interrupted. He stood easily to the motion of the deck, and caught a brief touch of her perfume. She seemed to be trembling.
`I’m sorry you get so upset about this sort of thing,’ he began. She didn’t answer, and he hurried on: `But you can’t change people all the time.’
She spoke without turning her head. ‘Another lecture, Major? Don’t you give me any credit for knowing anything?’
`It’s not that. I really didn’t want you to come on this ship at all, you know.’
`That was obvious,’ she said curtly.
He continued evenly: `But now that you’re here, I want you to relax. I think I understand why you are here now. I think you’re trying to forget your normal existence for a while, and yet your work and life in the past just keep cropping up to spoil things for you. Am I right?’
He waited for an outburst, and when she failed to speak he felt vaguely uneasy. But he knew he had spoken the truth. Normally, he would have felt pleased, even superior, but as he stared at the stiffly held head beside him he was merely troubled.
Marcia had been right about one thing at least, he pondered. `You just don’t begin to understand women,’ she had said on numerous occasions. `You’re too full of your stupid ideas about traditions and honour!’ That part hadn’t made any sense to him, but Marcia had become rather less and less reasonable with him as the years had passed, and he no longer looked for sense in her words.
There was a soft step on the planking, and Michel Tarrou touched his gleaming cap in greeting.
`Sorry to be so late.’ He smiled, his eyes on the girl’s face. `But it is my duty to attend to the engine every morning.’
Gillian turned to face Blair, a lick of fair hair drifting across her cheek in the humid breeze.
The Hostile Shore Page 3