‘Could you have been mistaken, Amazon? About the character for turtle?’
‘Yes, I suppose …’
Bluey paused for a moment, weighing up his options. Finally he said, ‘Well, there’s not much we can do about it now. We’re here and we’ve got a job to do. But we can keep an eye out for the mysterious Mr Chung.’
And by now they could see the island clearly through the spray and low cloud. They could also see the white line of surf, where the open ocean hit the reef a couple of hundred metres off the beach. It looked rough enough to wreck any boat that tried to get through it.
‘I can’t see this gap you talked about,’ said Frazer.
‘The entrance through the reef is on the other side of the island,’ came a voice from behind them, greatly startling the three Trackers. They turned to see the captain. ‘We will have to anchor here, on the leeward side, where it is more sheltered. There is a small problem with the computer program that controls the steering, and we cannot risk going any closer until it is corrected. To be driven on to the reef here would be a very great inconvenience. The launch will take you round to the other side. That is also where the village is situated. Also the pearl farm, from which Mr Chung will obtain pearls. And may I ask how your friend is today?’
Amazon and Frazer had popped into the sickbay earlier that morning to check on Matahi. He was still unwell. The fever was under control, but the abrasions on his back and legs were still seeping blood and pus. He had murmured a few words to them, before the doctor had shooed them away.
‘He’s not great. But I don’t think he’s in any real danger. And he seemed very keen to get back to the island.’
The captain nodded thoughtfully. ‘For the time being it is better for him to stay on the boat.’
‘Good idea,’ agreed Bluey. ‘I don’t suppose they have much in the way of medical equipment on the island.’
Although she could see that it made sense, something about this arrangement made Amazon feel rather uneasy. Was it that it almost felt as though Matahi were a hostage?
Mr Chung himself made a brief appearance to wave them off. ‘Cheery-bye,’ he said, grinning and nodding. ‘Don’t let coconut fall on head. I come soon to island when rudder better. We take good care of your friend.’
Twenty minutes later, the three Trackers were rounding the island in the launch, piloted by one of the crew. Amazon spotted a place where there were no waves breaking, and guessed it must be the gap in the reef. Beyond it she saw the lagoon, as still and calm as a pond in an English country village. A strange sort of building – a ramshackle hut on stilts – stood right in the middle of the lagoon.
‘That’s for the pearl fishers,’ said Bluey, seeing her puzzled expression. ‘They dive from there down to the bottom of the lagoon to bring up the oysters.’
Beyond the lagoon there was a strip of white sand, and behind that a line of tall palm trees. Amazon could even see the big green coconuts, clustered at the point where the leaves met the trunk.
At one edge of the beach there was a village, made up of a dozen huts. They had roofs made of palm thatch, but had no real walls – just a stout wooden pole at each corner to hold up the roof, and wooden blinds that were all pulled up. Children were playing at the edge of the water, while adults busied themselves with canoes and nets.
Well, perhaps ‘busied’ is the wrong word. The scene was relaxed and easy, and nobody seemed in a rush to do anything.
The pilot steered the little launch through the gap in the reef. Looking down now, Amazon was astonished to see how perfectly clear the water was. The rough weather had stirred up the sediment outside the reef, but in here it was like an aquarium. She saw shoals of long, arrow-like fish moving through the water like shafts of frozen sunlight. Larger big-mouthed fish lurked in the shadows. And everywhere there were clusters of oyster shells, as big as soup bowls.
And then, just a few metres from the boat, a head popped up. It belonged to a teenage boy. He carried a knife between his teeth. He looked at the boat, waved, smiled – or tried to: smiling is quite tricky when you have a knife in your mouth – then he swam up to the structure on stilts in the lagoon, climbed a ladder, dragging behind him a rope hung with huge black oysters.
By now the children on the beach had noticed them, and began shouting and laughing. The adults dropped what they were doing and started to gather together on the lagoon fringe. Amazon saw the adults talking to some of the children, who then rushed away. They reappeared, carrying armfuls of red and white flowers, just as the boat was hitting the sand.
The village men helped pull the boat up a little way on to the beach, and then offered their hands to help them down. One grave and elderly man tried to carry Amazon, but she wouldn’t have it and vaulted over the side of the boat, into ankle-deep water. As soon as they were on the beach, women hung the flower garlands round their necks.
The Trackers didn’t have much in the way of equipment – just the satellite phone, and the basics for sleeping and eating – but what there was, was carried from the boat by the villagers.
The pilot of the launch waited until the gear was unloaded, and then pushed the boat back into the deeper water and started up the engine. Frazer watched as the wake churned the placid water of the lagoon.
‘He didn’t seem to want to hang around,’ he said.
‘Maybe he knows something about the locals that we don’t,’ Amazon replied.
‘I can’t imagine what,’ said Frazer, looking at the crowd of polite adults and shy children.
Amazon nodded in agreement. And yet she had noticed that there was something just a little odd about the men and women of the village. True, the children grinned and laughed, as children do, but none of the adults would meet her eye.
Bluey strode forward and called out a few words of greeting in halting Polynesian, and they each tried to shake the hands of everyone in the crowd. A few of the villagers allowed their hands to be taken, but others pulled away, or found something interesting to look at in the sea ahead or the palm trees behind.
‘Friendly, aren’t they?’ said Frazer.
‘This is weird,’ said Bluey. ‘These people are usually incredibly hospitable. They love getting visitors. It’s a mark of honour among them.’ He shrugged, as if unsure what to do next. Then he added, in a whisper, ‘You should keep an eye on the gear. They don’t really have much concept of private property. On some of these remote islands, the people still hold possessions in common. If your neighbour’s got a net and you need it, you just take it.’
As if to confirm this, a small boy put his hand in Frazer’s pack, fished out his washbag, opened it and ran away with a bright red toothbrush, laughing his little head off. Frazer yelped and set off in hot pursuit. He grabbed the rascal, and they had a good-natured tussle over the toothbrush.
At last this elicited a genuine smile from the adults of the village. Amazon had already noticed in the Marquesas that the Polynesians were incredibly relaxed with their children, and hardly disciplined them at all. How different, she thought, from her strict and stuffy boarding school back in England.
‘Let him keep it, Fraze,’ said Bluey. ‘He’ll be your friend for life.’
‘Share yours, Zonnie?’ Frazer asked hopefully.
‘Hey, use a twig, nature boy,’ she replied, laughing.
When they spoke at all, the villagers mumbled in Polynesian or French, with only a few stray words of English. However, one teenage boy stepped forward and spoke out in clear English. Amazon recognized him as the pearl diver, still wet from the lagoon. He’d ditched the knife.
‘I am Oti,’ he said. ‘We welcome you to Uva’avu. We do not ha
ve much, but you are free to share our homes and our food. However, if you have come here to buy pearls, we cannot help you.’
Bluey looked a little puzzled. ‘Sorry, I thought you knew … we’re from an organization called TRACKS. Our chief, Mr Hunt, sent a message to your chief, Tuvali, that we would come here to help the turtles to get from the sand to the sea. And it was also arranged that we would do what we could to help you in your lives, to conserve and enjoy the richness of the sea.’
The boy looked greatly troubled. He hesitated and then translated Bluey’s speech back to the others. The Polynesians then whispered together.
‘I must tell you that Tuvali is … is not alive any more,’ replied the boy. ‘He –’
But it was to be a while yet before the Trackers were to find out what had become of the old chief, Tuvali, for the boy’s words were cut off by a great yell, almost a war cry, and a figure of such titanic proportions exploded among them that Amazon didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.
The man who burst in among them was in truth astounding. His hugeness was not simply a matter of his stupendous girth – barely contained by his pareo, the richly decorated cloth tied round his middle. He was also the tallest person Amazon had ever seen, towering above them all like a monstrous ogre. Most of the villagers had small tattoos on their hands and arms, but the newcomer was covered head to foot in the same swirls and geometric designs that adorned Matahi’s body. But what had appeared fascinating and rather beautiful on Matahi was only grotesque and threatening on this man.
The more that Amazon looked at him, the less funny he seemed. What at first she took to be fat, on closer inspection looked more like muscle. The overall impression of aggressive power was completed by the extraordinary contortions the man’s face was undergoing, accompanying his continuing cries and shouts.
Well, not quite completed, for there in the massive sausage-like fingers was a knobbly war club, as hooked and heavy as Satan’s own hockey stick.
The villagers fell silent in front of this apparition, and then shrank back, awed and terrified by the performance. Bluey pushed the two children protectively behind him. The newcomer stooped and pushed his face right into Bluey’s. Compared to him, Bluey seemed like a small child.
And now Frazer could see that the newcomer was flanked on either side by two less fearsome characters, who nevertheless looked enough like the big man for Frazer to be sure that they were brothers. One wore an idiot’s grin, and the other had a face as malevolent and stony as the Tiki statue they had seen back on the Marquesas.
It was a surprise when the big man spoke. His voice was rather mellow and his English was perfect.
‘Pleased to meet you. I am Chief Huru Huru, and these are my people. I hope they have not been bothering you.’
‘Ah, crikey, no, not at all,’ said Bluey. Amazon saw that his fists had been clenched, ready to defend himself and the youngsters. Now he relaxed them. ‘They’ve –’
‘You see they are not used to meeting strangers from off the island. It is not generally permitted for outsiders to come here, other than the pearl traders who must stay offshore. I am the father of my people and I must protect them from hmmmmm … contamination with those who do not wish them well. So, please, tell me your business.’
Bluey was about to answer, but Frazer beat him to it.
‘My dad sent us here to make sure as many turtles as possible get out to the open ocean. He sent a message to the old chief, Tuvali –’
Huru Huru adopted a look of theatrical sorrow. ‘Ah yes, my dear, dead uncle. Sadly, Tuvali came to an untimely and tragic demise. He was sleeping under that coconut tree, yonder –’ here Huru Huru pointed with the war club – ‘which really was not a wise thing to do. A coconut fell from the tree and smashed open his head like an egg. A very sad business, very sad indeed. The village was in mourning for many days. I myself wept tears sufficient to fill the lagoon, as did my brothers, Moipu and Tipua.’ Huru Huru pointed with the club towards the grinning idiot and the scowler.
The boy, Oti, had been whispering to the others as the chief spoke – it looked to Amazon as though he were translating the conversation. At the part where Huru Huru spoke about the death of the old chief, there was a murmur. The giant spun round with startling speed and glowered at the crowd. They instantly fell silent.
‘But,’ said Bluey, ‘you will keep to the agreement that was made? I mean about the turtles. The work is very important and will help your people.’
Huru Huru’s face suddenly acquired a look of great cunning.
‘As I said, I am the father of my people, and they are my children. All I care about is what is to their benefit. I assume that this arrangement that was reached with my lamented uncle involved some remuneration?’
‘You mean money?’
‘Of course I mean money. Do you think that we are savages to trade with coconuts or shells? We need money to buy essentials – medicine, corrugated iron so that the water does not pour through our roofs, radio equipment. And cheese.’
‘Cheese?’ said Frazer.
‘Yes, I like cheese. And it is hard to get here. I would like the kind that comes in small triangles. That is the best sort.’
Bluey looked thoughtful. ‘It may be that I can get my boss to agree to a payment, to help your development. But how am I to get it to you? He’s in Canada …’
‘It is quite straightforward. I, I mean we, have an account in a Swiss bank. It is no greatly troubling matter to arrange a transfer of money directly. I am quite happy to accept pound Sterling, US dollars, Swiss francs or euros. On behalf of my people, of course.’ Huru Huru smiled ingratiatingly.
‘If we have your cooperation with our mission, then I think we can come to an arrangement,’ said Bluey, looking about as happy as Amazon had when trying to swallow the bird-spit soup.
‘Good, good, good,’ said the chief. ‘But I must request that contact between you and my people be kept to a minimum. I do not want them to be corrupted by your foreign ways. Help your turtles, then leave us to our island paradise. On these terms, you may stay.’
Huru Huru looked around at the villagers, as if checking for any sign of disagreement. All he saw were downturned eyes. Except for the little boy who had taken the toothbrush. Too young yet to know fear, he gazed back at the chief. And, as he did so, he scratched his head with the toothbrush.
‘What is this?’ said the chief, but did not wait for an answer. Rather he simply took a couple of thumping strides over to the boy and snatched the toothbrush away.
‘This is exactly the sort of thing I am trying to guard against!’ he thundered. ‘Such things corrupt and weaken my people.’ Without further ado, he thrust the toothbrush into the top of his pareo, where it disappeared into the bulging folds of his midriff, like an explorer’s arm sinking into quicksand.
The little boy wept, and fled into his mother’s embrace.
The chief glared at the crowd, challenging anybody to criticize his actions. Then he spoke a few harsh words to the villagers, somehow managing to make the melodious language sound like the barking of a seal, and they melted away, looking down at the ground.
Only young Oti dared to glance back quickly. He even managed a furtive smile at Amazon.
Huru Huru turned back to the Trackers. ‘You may reside in that hut over there,’ he said, pointing with imperial disdain to a disused and semi-derelict hut at the opposite end of the beach to the village. ‘But I must insist that there is no further fraternization with my people. I do not intend to see the incident of the dental hygiene product repeated.’
Frazer stared at the tiny bit of toothbrush protruding from the chief’s ski
rt. He really felt like grabbing it back, but he was worried that the belly might engulf him, as it had the toothbrush, and he briefly imagined the scene as Bluey and Amazon tried to haul him out.
But, he thought, the time will come …
‘If this rule is broken,’ continued Huru Huru, ‘then I shall have you ejected from my island forthwith and without hesitation. Now goodbye.’
The chief waddled off on his huge legs, which looked like they were formed from stacks of car tyres, leaving the Trackers to carry their equipment and supplies to the hut.
‘This is not good,’ said Bluey, shaking his head as they walked towards the hut. ‘This whole mission was based on the assumption we’d have Tuvali here to help out. And he was a good friend of both your fathers …’
‘Oh yeah, I know,’ said Frazer. ‘My dad told me some great stories about the times they had together. It seemed they were always saving each other’s lives, sort of taking it in turns. Kinda, “Shall I save you from the giant octopus this time, or do you want to save me?” If my dad had been here … well, let’s just say that coconut wouldn’t have landed on Tuvali’s head.’
All that talk of having your life saved made Amazon think of Matahi.
‘I hope he’s going to be OK,’ she said and they all knew just who she meant.
Bluey gave her a squeeze. ‘He’ll be fine. That doctor back on the ship was a little hard-nosed, but she knew her stuff.’
‘Hard-nosed!’ said Frazer. ‘You can say that again. Her nose was made out of depleted uranium, like tank shells.’
‘The point is,’ Bluey continued, ‘that Matahi will be OK, and we just have to get on with the mission. Saving animals can be a tough business, but now you’re both trained and experienced Trackers, and we’re going to pull it off.’
Amazon felt a real surge of pride at the thought that she was now a fully-fledged member of TRACKS, and it helped to quell the doubts and fears she was feeling about Mr Chung, the titanic Huru Huru and the tragically lost Tuvali. And there was also the fact that thinking about the turtles was about the only way she could stop herself from worrying about her mother and father …
Shark Adventure Page 6
