She smiled wryly. “Fair enough. Let’s drink to better things!”
They drank slowly and appreciatively, enjoying the silence of the house, and hearing the shrill calls of the birds, and the distant ring of an axe against wood.
The air was warm and moist, and without warning, Ursula banged the heel of her shoe angrily on the floor. “Damn!” she exclaimed. “Your Captain is a bit queer, I must admit, but there’s no doubt about it, he’s got something!”
“I’m getting jealous,” Vincent murmured softly, a cautious smile on his lips.
He went to the laden sideboard, and refilled the glasses. As he leaned across her to put the glass at her side, he let his gaze falter on the top of her dress, and watched the rise and fall of her heavy breasts with trembling anticipation. She stiffened as he ran his hand gently across her neck, and something like pain showed in her eyes.
The glass tinkled on the floor, and the next instant she was in his arms, panting and straining against him.
The suddenness rocked his control, but with pounding senses, he sought her wide mouth, feeling her hot tongue pressing against his. They broke, gasping, and she tried to meet his eyes, the colour mounting in her cheeks.
“I hope you don’t think I always—” she stammered wildly, “It’s just that it’s been so long—”
Her thighs trembled uncontrollably as his groping hand began to unbutton the front of her dress, and she allowed herself to be led weakly to the screened corner of the room.
Vincent sighed deeply, as the thin garments came away in his hand, and he cupped her firm breast caressingly. She had her eyes closed, and moaned protestingly as he slipped away from her. Then as he came back, muffling her cry of delicious pain with his mouth, they both allowed their longing to replace want, and desire to sweep away reason.
5
THE SUN, UNCHALLENGED by even the smallest cloud, rose arrogantly in the afternoon sky, its probing beams beating and flaying the rocks and beaches with unpitying fierceness, while the trees and pigmy scrubs bent in a shimmering haze along the lip of the central plateau.
The town was strangely quiet now, and although the burned buildings still smouldered and stank of fire, only a few people remained to poke and pick at the wreckage. Small groups of soldiers idled untidily at the foot of the cliff road, and around the harbour, smoking, or playing quietly in the dust with bone dice.
Along the harbour wall there were still a number of silent groups, made up mostly of the older townsfolk, their wrinkled faces and dark eyes turned towards the Western horizon, or staring wistfully at the isolated gunboat, which glittered like a scale model in a glass showcase.
Even the cormorants, usually loud-voiced and querulous, perched moodily on their wizened legs, their long beaks tucked into their breasts, their eyes slitted with sleep. There was a general air of watchfulness and foreboding hanging heavily in the humid air.
The hospital, faded and wilting in the glare, was also quiet, the last casualty either resting uneasily on the rough beds, or sent home to his family, or already buried.
Rolfe lay back easily in the long chair, his stained uniform unbuttoned across his chest, in an attempt to trap the faint breath of air from the rickety fan, which squeaked remorselessly over his head. For all the pain and squalor which he had witnessed and had tirelessly helped to relieve, he felt unusually relaxed.
He glanced around the small, neat room with lazy contentment, aware that he should be making his way back to his ship, yet conscious that for the first time for so long, he was feeling the inner warmth of happiness.
The room, small though it was, held many of the answers to his unspoken questions, and revealed much of the lives of its owners.
Crude shelves were tightly packed with medical books and tattered magazines, mostly concerned with tropical disease and malnutrition, while around the walls were small feminine touches which brought a lump to his throat, so pathetic did they seem in this rough setting. There were several earthenware pots of bright wild flowers, and some small pictures, obviously hand painted with an almost schoolgirl simplicity, which did much to break the otherwise bleak interior of the dwelling.
Felton watched him quietly, his lips set in a tight line, as if tensed against some possible criticism or condescending remark, yet totally betrayed by the anxiety in his gleaming eye.
“I suppose you think I’m a bit of a swine to keep my sister out here, in all this?” He jerked his hand quickly.
Rolfe eyed him steadily. “I suppose you know what you’re doing,” he said evenly. “But, quite frankly, it must be a bit hard on her?”
Felton shrugged wearily. “Eight years,” he said, half to himself, “but I’ve achieved so much!” Some of his drained energy flooded back. “And now, it looks as if these people might get a chance! Get a chance to live their own lives! Not just slaves of a half-mad Fascist!”
“They may not find freedom with the Communists!” Rolfe spoke carefully, watching the other man’s tortured face for the return of anger. “That exhibition this morning wasn’t much of a peace offering!”
Felton stood up edgily, biting his lip. “You’re a servant of a military power, Justin! You must realize that today, all changes are only achieved by force. Some blood has to be shed!” He waved his hands nervously. “But in the old capitalist systems, the poor suffer for victory, and go on suffering after that victory to the advantage of the false politicians and industrialists who caused their misery! Surely after this, these wretched people will get something better!”
Rolfe’s eyes widened, more at hearing Felton calling him by his Christian name, than by listening to his views.
“If this damned General had been removed before this, we should have been able to achieve so much more. There’s plenty of food and natural resources on the island, but the people get none of it! The General and your precious Laker saw to that!” He kicked fiercely at the floor. “I hate everything that they stand for! And everything that all the other Lakers are doing all over the world!” His terrible face suddenly softened, as Judith’s voice floated sweetly into the room. She was singing a strange French song, and the words were punctuated by the sounds of running water.
“She’s making herself nice for you.” He smiled crookedly.
Rolfe felt himself flushing. “She sounds happy!” he stammered.
Felton nodded. “She is! Are you married?” he asked sharply.
“I was. It’s all over, now!”
Felton studied him, and seemed vaguely satisfied. “Thought it was something like that. You had it written all over you!” He raised his hand as Rolfe opened his mouth. “Forget it! Now there’s something I want to ask you, a sort of favour.”
“Go ahead.” Rolfe felt on safer ground.
“It’s about Judith.”
Rolfe felt the pain again. Judith. The very name made him feel different.
“I want you to promise me something. I want you to take her with you to Hong Kong!” He leaned forward, “Will you do that?”
“I’m taking you both!”
Felton shook his head sadly. “You obviously don’t know what I’ve been talking about! I suppose you’re so steeped in this imperialist clap-trap, that you couldn’t possibly understand! I shan’t be going, ever! My work is here, with these people. They trust me, and they need me. And that in itself is reason and reward enough for my staying!”
Rolfe frowned. “You know that she’ll want to stay with you, don’t you?”
“I do. We’ve been together so long now, she feels she has to look after me.” He shook his head irritably, “Never mind that! This is no time for sentimentality! Will you promise me that you’ll take her?”
“I will! By force if necessary! Although I don’t think she’d like me much for that!”
“And that means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” His voice was shrewd. “Well, that’s a big weight off my mind! I’m not worried about my own safety. The Chinese aren’t fools, and they’ll realize that I’m some use to t
hese people!” He looked searchingly at Rolfe, “Be good to her, won’t you?”
Rolfe swallowed, and wondered how to answer. “I can’t possibly see how you keep arriving at all these conclusions,” he started lamely.
“That’ll do! I’m not interested in all these irritating preliminaries!” He dropped his voice, the bantering tone replaced by one of gentle sincerity. “She’s twenty-six, a woman, but for all that practically a child. She came out here when she was eighteen, straight from a ghastly finishing school, and so she has no idea really of the outside world! I trust you, Justin!” he explained simply, “God knows why! You stand for all that I hate, yet I do! And I want you to look after her, to put her on the right road.”
“Have you no parents?” Rolfe’s heart was pounding painfully.
“Dead! Mother quite early, and Father when his money ran out. He didn’t quite approve of me, and he tried to keep Judith and me apart!” He smiled at some secret memory. “When the cash stopped, so did the finishing school! That’s one thing the old man didn’t bargain for!”
“I think you only like me here so that you can give me a lecture!” Rolfe laughed softly, to break the tension. “But don’t worry, I’ll come up for her tonight. I shall sail tomorrow forenoon, and I hope you may change your mind about staying,” he finished soberly.
He jumped to his feet, as the girl stepped lightly into the room. She had combed her hair back into a gleaming, chestnut mane, which reflected every light in its silky tresses. She was wearing a plain cotton dress, which had obviously been washed and repaired many times, yet her beauty was only accentuated by her faded clothes, and her huge eyes studied his face anxiously, as if to see his reaction.
Rolfe found he was staring at her again, seeing her for the first time, as a woman.
Her small, graceful figure, its promise of curved perfection barely disguised by the newly-pressed dress, and her slim, sun-browned legs, no longer hidden by the rough smock, made his blood roar in his head, and he didn’t trust himself to speak.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Felton said shortly. “Just going to clean up the surgery!” He patted her arm as he passed. “Careful with him, Judith, he’ll eat you alive!” They heard him laugh as he slammed the door.
Rolfe fiddled with the buttons on his tunic, unable to tear his gaze from her, yet unwilling to meet the cool candour of those wide eyes.
“He’s been bullying you, hasn’t he?” she asked gravely.
“Just telling me about himself, and you.”
“He likes you, I can tell. He doesn’t take to people like—” she stopped, a blush on her smooth cheeks.
“Don’t worry. I know what you mean!” Rolfe interrupted gently. “He thinks I’m an imperialist warmonger, or something!”
“He’s so keen to help these people!” Her small, well-shaped hands embraced the invisible island. “He gets very impatient sometimes!”
“Tell me,” Rolfe spoke softly, his eye on the door, “how did he get that terrible injury? An accident out here?”
She smiled sadly, “No, not out here.” She moved quickly to the side of the room, and tugged a battered suitcase from under the couch. She went on her knees, her hands pulling impatiently at the strap which held the case closed. A great wing of hair tumbled across her shoulder, and she bit her lip with concentration. Rolfe thought she looked at that moment, more like a child than ever before.
The case burst open, and although he tried not to appear curious, he couldn’t help seeing the pathetic possessions inside. A school badge, some old English newspapers, and then with a sob, she pulled out a small leather box. Gently, and with great care, she brushed away the clinging fur of mildew which was beginning to form on the faded surface, and then she opened the lid, and held it out to his gaze.
In the box, on its bed of pale satin, lay a silver cross, and a blue and white ribbon.
“The Distinguished Flying Cross!” he murmured, and met her watchful eyes, seeing the warm glow of pride and defiance. “I never dreamed!”
She touched the medal with her finger, and then closed the box, quickly stuffing it back in the case. “Nobody knows, and he’d be furious if he knew I’d shown it to you.” She sat on the edge of her chair, her hand nearly touching his. “He was a very good pilot. All the girls at the school used to rave over him when he came to see me. That was before—before he was shot down in Burma.” She dropped her eyes to her lap, and he wanted to crush her to him, to protect her from everything. “He was taken prisoner by the Japanese, he was terribly burned in the crash, but they didn’t try to help him, they just let his face form itself into that mask!” She shuddered. “He had been a medical student until he volunteered for the air force, and that must have saved him. He more or less treated himself! Even now, I can’t bear to think of it!”
Rolfe went cold, visualizing the months of agony and fear. “That explains a lot!” he murmured softly.
In the surgery he could hear Felton whistling cheerfully. “I suppose it was too late to do anything about his face when he was released from prison camp? Plastic surgery, I mean.”
“Yes, too late. He threw himself into his studies instead, and he really is a very good doctor!”
“Yes I know. What made him first come out here?”
She straightened her skirt thoughtfully. “It wasn’t easy for him in England, you know. They practically told him outright that he’d never hold down any position there because of the way he looked! It was terribly cruel! It made him very bitter!”
Rolfe nodded understandingly, seeing only too clearly how a man like Felton, with his forthright views, and embittered mind, would react to such handling.
Judith crossed to the window, staring out across the bay. “She’s very lovely, isn’t she?”
“Who?” Rolfe twisted his mind on to this new track.
“Ursula Laker,” her voice was wistful. “I’ve often seen her driving and riding around the island. She’s always so beautifully dressed and self-assured!” The slim shoulders shrugged helplessly, “She must be very happy!”
“I don’t think she’s very satisfied.”
“Do you like her a lot?” Then she turned, shaking her head quickly, “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked! Please forgive me!”
“There’s nothing to forgive, Judith. I’m afraid she only succeeded in making me very uncomfortable!” He laughed unsteadily.
He watched her walk across the room. What’s happening to me? What am I doing? Have you forgotten so soon what has already happened in your life? A mental picture of Sylvia flitted across his mind, and he was surprised to find that it no longer hurt him. He watched the girl narrowly, wondering how it had all happened, and not even wanting to resist its implication.
“Brian wants me to go away from here, doesn’t he?”
Rolfe started. How like her brother she was, always making sudden and unexpected statements. “Has he told you that?”
“Not in so many words. But he does, doesn’t he? I can feel it.”
“It’s the only solution. This’ll be no place for you when the trouble starts. For any of us, for that matter.”
She stared at the door. “He won’t be able to manage without me. I must stay with him!”
Rolfe stood up, his face set and determined. “No, Judith! I want him to go too, but even if he decides to stay in the hospital, he won’t be happy with you here. It might be dangerous, and you wouldn’t want him to be worried all the time, would you?”
“But where should I go?” She gazed round the room, her eyes searching, “This is my home now!”
“I’ll look after you, “Rolfe answered, his throat tight. “I’ll be able to get you back to England if you like?”
“I suppose the Government will pay for the fares and everything?” she sounded dazed and uneasy.
“I don’t care what the Government do! I am going to look after you!”
She stared at him, showing surprise at the grim determination in his taut voice. “I thin
k you mean it,” she breathed softly.
You’ll never know how much I mean it! If only I could tell you how I feel!
He grinned awkwardly, “Leave it to me. And you could always come out here again when things quieten down,” he lied. “Things might be better then.”
Her eyes were misty. “I hope so, for his sake!”
Rolfe forced himself to look at his watch, and marvelled incredulously at the speed at which the hours had passed. It would be better to leave now, he thought, before she has time to change her mind.
“I must go now. I shall either come for you tonight, or send my Lieutenant. You will be ready?” He tried not to meet her eyes.
“I shall be here.” Her voice sounded far away.
“Would you like me to take some clothes and things with me now, to save time?”
She glanced down at the dress. “I’ve got them on!” She smiled, but her lip quivered.
Rolfe reached out and gripped her arm, his voice husky. “We’ll take care of that. Don’t worry!”
A jeep snarled along the sea road and halted. Major Ling called out from the distance. “Are you coming, Captain? Can I give you a lift?”
Judith’s eyes flared angrily. “That awful man! When you see people like that, you realize that Brian is right!”
He gave her arm a squeeze, reluctant to go. “Goodbye, Judith! Until tonight.”
“Yes.” She watched him stride off, her hand touching her arm where his hand had been.
As Rolfe clambered into the jeep, she came running down the path, holding out the little leather box. “You can take this for me!” Her voice was breathless, and she avoided looking at the major.
Rolfe slipped the case into his pocket, and leaned across to her, until her hair brushed his cheek. As her eyes widened, he whispered slowly and carefully, “Yin Fong Leung.”
As the jeep bounded forward, he saw the pleasure rush to her cheeks, and her teeth white in her brown face.
Send a Gunboat (1960) Page 14