The Hostile Shore

by Douglas Reeman

  Gillian felt the perspiration cold on her face, but she could not drag her eyes from him. She felt mesmerized, even stricken by this terrifying figure.

  The voice droned on. ‘The Mota came out of the jungle and attacked them. They had started killing them before I understood what was happening, you see. The wounded officer, the father of the ignoramus in charge of your little venture, died trying to defend his child.’ He stared hard at the girl’s trembling mouth. ‘That is when I acted! She was my bargaining point.’ His fingers interlaced in a tight, uneasy grip. ‘For years I had tried to make the Mota come to me like the other villagers here. But they had defied me. They were the main burden I had to bear. But I took the child and asked to be allowed to keep her for myself. Their chief knew me, and he thought that he had the better of the agreement. He knew that if I kept the child and said nothing to our useless authorities they were safe. That child was my first real link with them. They began to trust me. Until …’ his voice quivered with emotion, ‘until you came here.’

  `What happened to that child?’ Her voice was a mere whisper.

  `She was blind. She must have been injured during the fight on the beach.’ His voice was very soft. `She died ten years ago.’

  There was a long pause, and Gillian thought she was going to faint.

  `She was a challenge to me. But I made her into the perfect child. She knew only love, and happiness, and every living creature was her brother.’

  `You don’t know what you’re saying!’ She stared at him with horror. `You kept that child in this place just for the sake-‘ She cried out as he slapped her violently across the cheek.

  `Silence! How could you possibly understand the meaning of perfection? To you it is money, or lust! You personify all the things I protected her from!’ He dropped his eyes. `She was taken by fever. Quite suddenly. I buried her on the slope, where she used to sit and pray with me. But the Mota never knew of this. They thought I kept her in here with me. So all the time they left me in peace to do my work.’ The hooded eyes flickered towards the couch. ‘After the schooner had sailed I knew what would happen. The Mota will have to be appeased. They will want a further reassurance from me. A sign of good faith.’ He folded his arms. ‘Do you not agree that my work to build a place of simplicity and righteousness is all-important? Surely even you can see that?’ When she did not answer he nodded slowly, the lamplight gleaming on his pointed scalp. ‘Quite so. They will come for the child.’

  `But the child is dead!’

  The long fingers seized the blanket and pulled it down to her breast. Around her neck hung the necklace, with the brass ornament.

  ‘You will be that child,’ he answered gravely.

  Fraser heaved himself on to his knees and, with his -head cocked on one side, listened carefully, and at the same time strained his aching eyes into the black shadows of the trees. He was aware that Hogan’s untidy shape had taken on a sharper outline, and he peered anxiously towards the open sea, looking for a gap in the low clouds, which moved rank after rank towards the island and beyond. His hands rasped across the stubble of his chin, and beneath his groping fingers he could feel, too, the dirt and blown sand which matted his thick hair into a tangled wig. He cursed as Hogan began to twitch again and mutter incoherently through the protection of his exhausted slumber. Fraser had sat in this same position for most of the night, fingering his rifle, and sweating at every sound which whispered through the thickly wooded slopes of the hidden headland. When the downpour had stopped, he had forced the pace even more, half-dragging and halfcarrying the delirious Hogan, until he had reached the security of the steep cliff which ran sharply down to a small cove, the proximity of which had made further movement in the darkness impossible.

  He groped for Hogan’s shoulder and shook it roughly. `Come on, Jim. Time we were movin’.’ He frowned as Hogan rolled over on to his back and stared vacantly at the clouds. He could see his eyes shining like oyster shells, and shuddered as he remembered the carnage in the trade store. God, was that only yesterday? He shook the man again, his voice harsh. `Think you can stand up? We’d better try to find the ship ‘fore some joker finds us!’

  Hogan released a long groan and pushed his body into a sitting position. To Fraser he seemed unwilling to accept the misery of their position. It was as if he had hoped to awake from just another nightmare. The nightmare remained, however, and his fat fingers moved cautiously to the bandage on his arm. ‘Gawd, where are we, fer Christ’s sake?’

  `You’re supposed to know the island, aren’t you?’ Fraser’s voice was unfeeling. `The sea’s down there, an’ I guess the headland is reachin’ over that way.’ He waited with mounting impatience. `Well? What are you starin’ at me like that for? You look as if you’re the only bloke in trouble!’

  Hogan licked his dry lips. `Where is he?’

  Fraser gritted his teeth. `Who are you talkin’ about? Where’s who?’

  Hogan’s face moved closer, so that he could feel the unsteady breath on his throat. `The Major. What ‘appened to ‘im?’ He passed a hand over his face, like a man removing cobwebs. `I’m tryin’ to remember,’ he added vaguely.

  Fraser forced himself to breathe more calmly. All through the night he had tried to rekindle his anger against Blair, to exclude him completely as if he was already dead. When he had discovered that Blair had fallen behind he had nearly given in. Hogan’s great weight, the fury of the storm, and the agony in his mind as he tried to imagine what was happening to the schooner, had all taken a great toll of his limited reserve. When he looked back for Blair, a curse already forming on his lips, he had stared with stricken eyes at the unmoving wall of the jungle, unable to accept that he had vanished. All the hoarded fury and frustration had burst from him at that instant, and with sudden strength he had dashed blindly up the slope, moving only by instinct and deaf to everything, even Hogan’s persistent ramblings and groanings.

  It was different now. A faint glimmer parted the sea from the sky, and the threat of the dawn seemed only to add to his overwhelming sense of guilt and shame.

  `Look,’ he began sharply, `I told you what happened durin’ the night. We lost him. Back there sorhewheres.’ He gestured over his shoulder. `Anyway, he’s gone, an’ that’s that.’ His shoulders sagged, and he felt desperately tired.

  Hogan shifted uncomfortably. `Can’t remember a thing. Poor bastard, ‘e must ‘ave fell down one of them gullies.’ He peered uncertainly at the kneeling man. `Oughtn’t we to go back, Vic? I mean, ‘e might be injured, an’ that.’

  He jumped as Fraser sprang to his feet. `That’s it, damn you! Make up a flamin’ song about it! Whose fault is it but his own?’ He bunched his great fists and shook them in the air. `If it wasn’t for him we’d be on our way back to bloody Vila, safe and sound, see? You’re all the same,’ he added bitterly. `You can’t see what the man’d done to us all. To him it’s just a game. Hire a bloody boat, an’ go pokin’ about lookin’ for wrecks, and Christ knows what else! Never mind who you step on to get what you want!’

  Hogan stirred uneasily. `Well, he ain’t gettin’ ‘is own way now, is he?’

  `That’s his fault. How in hell’s name could we find him, anyway?’ He pointed at Hogan’s shoulder. `An’ a fat lot of good you’d be. Look at you, you’re bloody well helpless!’

  Hogan looked down at his fat body, which in the growing light only added to his discomfort. Thick with mud and filth, his shirt in rags, he hung his head at Fraser’s harsh words.

  `Okay, Vic, I’m sorry. I know I owe me life to you.’

  Fraser peered round, his cramped legs trembling. `Here, give us yer hand, cobber. We’ll get on now.’

  Keeping as close as they dared to the edge of the crumbling cliffs, they began to move round the top of the cove towards the dark bulge of the headland. Each painful second which passed brought more light in the sky and growing warmth in the humid air.

  Fraser sniffed and shook his head. He had hoped that with the dawn would come that f
resh, cool breath of wind which usually followed a storm, and heralded the return of the sun. There was no wind, and as the first light glinted across the heaving water below them he could see the unbroken oily surface, grey and threatening. It must have been the edge of a Willy-Willy, he thought. It may come back again and, in any case, there’s more bad weather to come.

  Hogan leaned against a tree and fought for breath.

  `Must rest. Beat up, I am!’ He gulped air like a drowning man, while Fraser stared past him at the sea with smouldering eyes.

  A thin gold spear of watery sunlight lanced amongst the trees and touched their faces. The fronds and-interlaced roots still dripped with rain, and there was a sickly smell of sodden vegetation and rotting wood.

  Fraser sniffed again, as if to draw the sea up to where they stood. He slipped his arm round the other man’s waist. `Here we go then. Just watch where you put your great hoofs!’

  Their faces warmed in the pale glow, and they were made doubly conscious of their rags, which hung wet against their scratched bodies.

  A frigate bird rose like a grey spectre from the cliff, and with creaking wings beat angrily away from the two invaders. It dived towards the sea, so that its reflection rushed upwards to meet it on the uneasy water.

  Every step was agony for Hogan. Years of tropical life had weakened his resistance to any sort of sudden physical strain, and, coupled with his loss of blood from the wound, which he could not even remember, he was still suffering from shock. I Try as he might, he could not recall all the incidents at the trade store in their right order. And Blair kept moving in on his aching mind to confuse him further.

  He peered sideways at Fraser’s set jaw and hard, searching eyes. Fancy Vic behaving like that, he thought worriedly. It i was wrong of him to leave the bloke like that. He shuddered’ as he remembered the painted faces screaming at him over the veranda. He almost fell as Fraser jerked him roughly over a scattered pile of small boulders.

  `Look!’ Fraser pointed wildly. `There she is! Look, Jim, damn your eyes!’

  Hogan squinted his red-rimmed eyes against the growing glare on the sea’s face. Just round the lip of the next cliff he” saw the nodding white stern of the schooner. She looked very small, and yet very close to the shore.

  Fraser licked his lips and felt a smarting behind his eyes. ‘Th’ good old Pearl! So she’s come through all right!’ He stared at the white fragment with disbelief. `They got her,f through the reef!’

  ‘Yeh. She’s there.’ Hogan, too, was unable to take it in. As Fraser chattered with sudden excitement he felt a growing surge of resentment. All he cared about was his bloody ship. I’ve lost everything, and I’m too old to start up again. And’i all he cares about is his … His thoughts were scattered by Fraser pulling his arm again.

  `Let’s get down.’ Fraser peered round the cliff, searching’,, for a track.

  Hogan sighed. The throbbing in his arm increased, but obediently he pushed himself away from the tree and followed Fraser over the boulders. As more of the ship became visible Fraser began to curse.

  `Topmast’s gone,’ he muttered. `An there don’t seem to be any boats left.’

  Quite suddenly the trees thinned out, and they came to a steeply shelving ridge which seemed to run right down towards the sea. Fraser’s rubber-soled shoes slipped and skidded on the waterlogged ground, but he never faltered as with a guiding hand out for Hogan, he led the way down the slope.

  Hogan tugged at his hand, and he turned with impatience on his face. `Come on, mate. Not much farther.’ He broke off as he saw the numb expression on his fat face.

  Hogan fought for breath. `Over there! Two of ‘em tryin’ to ‘ead us off!’

  `What? Where?’ Disbelief tinged with sudden caution hardened his voice.

  `By them stones.’ He added with despairing bitterness: `You should’ve kept yer eyes open, Vic.’

  Fraser stepped clear of the other man, his eyes slitted with concentration. `Shut up, will you! Perhaps you imagined it.’

  He swung round as a movement flickered between the thin trees. A bent brown shape ran across a patch of sunlight and vanished into a thicket farther down the slope. He felt the cold fingers again around his heart. Hogan was right. He had been too preoccupied to be careful. Blair would have known what to do.

  Hogan hissed excitedly: `There’s one right behind you, Vic. Don’t move till I tell you.’

  Fraser stood quite still, his eyes on the other man’s protruding eyes. There was a terrible ache between his shoulderblades, and he wanted to swing round and fire, and keep firing, until the magazine was empty. Nothing happened. He watched the sweat pouring down Hogan’s face, and could feel the nausea rising in his stomach.

  Seconds lengthened into minutes. The rifle grew heavier, and the wood of the stock became slippery with his sweat.

  Hogan’s lips moved. `Make a run for it, Vic. Leave me, will yer! I’ll only ‘old you up.’ His eyes. blinked with the strain. `Just put a bullet in me first. I don’t want them. bastards to get their ‘ands on me!’

  Something snapped inside Fraser. `Shut up, fer God’s sake! Nobody’s stoppin’ us, see!’ With a sob he swung on his heel„ and squeezed the trigger. He had worked the bolt and fired again before he realized that nothing moved. Only the echoes of the shots and the shrill cries of disturbed birds greeted his straining ears. He made up his mind. `Come on, man! Make for the water! Just keep goin’, an’ I’ll cover you!’

  Blinking away the sweat, he crouched watchfully amongst the silent trees, the rifle moving from side to side. Behind him he heard Hogan’s shuffling steps and the crash of his body through the clutching bushes. He could hardly find breath,; and although he wanted to swallow he was afraid even to moisten his lips.

  Come on then. Where the hell are you? The green wall danced and quivered before his fixed gaze.

  A strangled shout made him turn. Hogan had fallen across a bent root, his eyes on the tall figure which seemed to rise a right out of the ground.

  With the sea at his back, the figure was more of a silhouette than a living creature, the feeble sunlight casting a halo of light around the weird wig of red clay and hovering on the curved edge of the broad-bladed spear which, even as Fraser flung up the rifle to his shoulder and fired, moved with almost casual ease towards the whimpering man on the ground.

  The two figures lay entwined and unmoving as Fraser ran heavily down the slope. With a horrified glance at the savage’s bared teeth, he kicked him free of Hogan’s back, and with I shaking hands pulled the spear from between the great folds of flesh on the trader’s shoulders. Hogan’s eyes stared dazedly’ at the trees, his mouth opening and shutting soundlessly, while Fraser knelt at his side, heedless of the movements on the slope and the ship which lay so close to the shore.

  Blair had known that Hogan was going to die. He had said so. And as Fraser stared down at the round, suddenly unlined face, he imagined that he was looking at himself.

  `Never see Cairns again, Vic.’ The voice was surprisingly level. `Used ter think about takin’ a little farm just outside the old place.’ He shuddered, and Fraser knew that time was running out for both of them. ‘Dinkum little spot. Remember it well. Red-gums borderin’ the river, an’ nothin’ to do all day but …’ His voice trailed away, and for a second Fraser thought he had gone. One fat hand moved. `Waste of time runnin’ away. Should’ve stayed with ‘er back there. Too late now. Too late for anythin’.’ His small eyes flickered with sudden alarm. `Don’t leave me ‘ere, Vic, will yer?’

  He shook his head. `No, Jim. I’ll see you through, cobber.’

  Hogan sighed. `Pity about the Major. Good bloke.’ He sighed again, and died.

  Fraser heaved the body across his shoulders, and carrying the rifle in his free hand like a pistol, walked slowly down the slope. Nothing stirred, and he was aware of the birds singing high above his head.

  He felt the sand beneath his shoes, and saw the schooner lying directly opposite him, barely a hundred yar
ds offshore.

  As he waded into the sea he could see several heads staring from the ship’s side, and when he struck out across the tepid water he caught a glimpse of his two divers, Wabu and Yalla, diving over the rail and making towards him.

  His mind was completely numbed, and the effort of keeping Hogan’s body and the heavy rifle afloat was almost too much for him. He did not speak as the two divers relieved him of his burden, but paused for a while to tread water and stare back at the deserted shore. It was as if no one had ever landed there, and nothing lived beyond the implacable green barrier.

  He was hauled bodily up the schooner’s worn side, and sat in silence on the bulwark staring at the. pool of water at his feet. With slow deliberation he turned his back on the shore, and felt the gradual penetrating warmth of the sun through his tattered shirt. They all watched his face. Wabu and Yalla, the water drying on their sleek bodies and in their black hair, stood like carved statues, their faces calm and grave. Kari crouched by the side of Hogan’s waterlogged corpse, his lined old features filled with sadness, his gnarled hands moving nervously across the warm deck. Dinkila the cook, his foolish face immobile with shock, was near to hysteria, and even Myers, inarticulate with the whisky he had been consuming since the storm, was sobered by Fraser’s expression.

  He looked slowly at Tarrou who, unlike the others, gave the impression of movement, of nervous agitation.

  `Well?’ The question dropped like a stone. `What have you got to say?’ Fraser ran his gaze wearily over the assembled group. `And where’s the precious Miss Bligh? I should’ve thought she’d have had her camera ready for all this!’

  Tarrou’s voice was trembling. `There was a storm. I brought the ship here. It was safe here I thought. They were stupid and did not understand your wishes, Vic.’ He gestured towards .the others, and Wabu dropped a slim hand on to his diver’s knife. `It has been terrible.’ He swallowed hard. `Where are the others? I thought …’ His voice trailed away.