by Isobel Chace
The doctor shrugged. “I thought perhaps the American tourists had arrived,” he said, far too innocently. “They are expected, aren’t they?”
“Sooner or later!” Miss Corrigan brushed the remark aside. “I’ll fetch Peter.”
Peter Harmon arrived white of face and extremely concerned. “Is he hurt real bad?” he asked. “I wonder if we have the facilities here. Should I arrange to have him flown out?”
“Certainly not!” Miss Corrigan squashed the idea flat “He has Helen and me to nurse him—Anita too, come to that! And the doctor will be on hand!”
Peter looked at the long wound and shuddered. “He’ll have a scar for life!”
“At least he’ll have his leg to walk on,” the doctor drawled. “Shall we get him inside?”
Helen steeled herself to taking a good at the gash on Gregory’s leg herself. She would have to get used to it, she told herself. This was not the time to be squeamish. That would do nobody any good. She was surprised to discover that Gregory was conscious again, has eyes fixed on the shark’s tail in front of him.
“Gregory?” Helen said uncertainly.
He conjured up a smile. “Don’t looked so amazed, Helen,” he chided her. “It doesn’t suit you!”
“But—”
“But your plan worked, didn’t it? Isn’t that the shark I see before me?”
It had been her idea, of course, but Helen couldn’t help wishing that he wouldn’t remind her of the fact. It hadn’t been a part of it that anybody would be hurt, but in justice to herself she had to admit that it might have been worse, if she had not been there someone might have been killed.
“Yes, it worked,” she said slowly.
“Well then, what is there to look so down in the mouth about?”
She smiled uncertainly. “Well, if you don’t know I certainly don’t,” she retorted.
It was a long, painful business getting Gregory into the hotel all the same. In the end Peter practically carried him single-handed, with the doctor following behind, a benign expression on his face and with his doctor’s bag in his hand. They had travelled painfully through the foyer towards the lift, when the doors suddenly clanged open and there was Anita standing before them, as astonished to see them as they were to see her.
“What happened? Oh, Helen, how could you let this happen?” she demanded and, to Helen’s dismay, her eyes filled with tears and her mouth trembled ominously.
“We’re trying to get him to bed,” Helen said patiently, hoping that Anita would hurry out of the lift and allow them to enter.
“You did it!” her sister-in-law said flatly. “I suppose, Michael dying wasn’t enough for you?”
Miss Corrigan was shocked. “What nonsense!” she said gruffly. “Here, girl, get out of our way!”
Anita obligingly moved. “Will he be all right?” she asked abruptly.
“Of course,” the doctor said gently. “He is in my care!”
Gregory himself said nothing. He looked exhausted. Helen wept inwardly for him. If only they could get him into bed, where he could rest and sleep awhile, then perhaps he would feel a bit better. It was obvious that he was nearing the end of what he could endure in the way of pain and discomfort. She thought that she couldn’t bear it if he lapsed into unconsciousness again. He didn’t. Once in the lift, he seemed to recover a little.
“It will be strange to sleep on land for a change,” he said with a wistful touch of humour.
“Sleep,” the doctor nodded approvingly. “More sleep the better!”
They got him out of the lift, with Peter taking most of the strain, and into one of the empty bedrooms just across the corridor. Helen looked round the room curiously, expecting it to be like the ones allotted to her and Anita, but this one was quite different. There was none of the glamour and none of the South Seas atmosphere that characterised their rooms; This one was sparsely furnished, with rugs on the floor and thinner rugs covering the bed. There were no pictures on the wall and mighty little in the way of a view from the window.
“It isn’t our best room,” Peter said apologetically. “But it’s convenient. You’ll need a bit of nursing and the girls can get in and out from you here without any difficulty.”
“It looks grand to me,” Gregory answered thankfully. “Thanks for taking me in.”
Peter looked at him, embarrassed. “It’s nothing,” he muttered. “Hadn’t you better get into bed?”
“Yes,” Helen said firmly. “The sooner you’re in bed the better. I’ll leave you to it.”
In the corridor she met Anita, slightly puffed from running up the stairs. “Oh, Helen, you must tell me all about it! Poor Gregory! Doesn’t he look ill?” Her chin trembled. “I suppose he is all right?” she sighed.
“There’s nothing to tell,” Helen said abruptly. She thought Anita was going to cry, but she didn’t.
Instead, she looked very brave and feminine and made Helen feel quite uncomfortably unconcerned and indifferent to human suffering. “Do you want to see the shark?”
Anita shuddered. “The shark?”
Helen nodded. “They thought Miss Corrigan would want it for her party. It’s in the jeep.”
“I think that’s horrible!” Anita burst out. “And I think you’re horrible too! You don’t care that Gregory is hurt, do you? Not really! You’ll be telling me next that it’s a pity because it will put the diving schedules back still more, or something like that!”
Helen’s face twisted into a smile. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she said bleakly. “I rather wish you hadn’t reminded me.”
“Well, I’m not!” Anita retorted. “You’d have thought of it sooner or later!”
“I might have done,” Helen agreed mildly, “but how I hope that Gregory has not!”
That was a forlorn hope, however. When she and Anita were called into Gregory’s room, she knew immediately, by the lines of anxiety around his mouth, that he too had been made aware of how long it was going to be before he did any more diving.
“It’s been a pretty disastrous expedition one way and another,” he said bitterly.
“Don’t worry about it,” Helen said immediately. “I’ll manage somehow!”
He smiled at her. “You don’t know your own limitations, woman. Did anyone ever tell you that?”
“Often,” she admitted.
Anita pressed her knees against the side of the bed and leaned consolingly over Gregory’s prone body. “You mustn’t worry,” she said anxiously.
“That’s easier said than done,” he told her wryly.
“No, it isn’t really,” she contradicted him. “You don’t know what Helen is really like. She’ll probably manage better without you than if you were there. She’ll manage everything, just you see!”
Helen blushed. “Anita!” she exclaimed helplessly. Gregory frowned. “It’s nice to know that I’m an optional extra to my own plans!” he said dryly.
“But you’re not!” Helen interposed hastily, aware in the pit of her stomach that the damage was already done. “We’ll just have to hold up proceedings until you’re better.”
“I can’t afford to do that either,” he said crossly. “If anyone should know that, it’s you!”
There would be no pleasing him now, she knew that, but Helen felt she had to try all the same. The grey look was back on his face and she would have done anything to dispel that. “Perhaps you can tell me exactly what to do from your bed,” she suggested. “I can’t manage otherwise!”
Anita’s eyes flickered over her anxious face. “You’ve got the Polynesian sailors to help you, haven’t you? Why do you have to bother Mr. de Vaux?”
“Why indeed?” Gregory sighed. He eased himself against his pillows. “For heaven’s sake let the subject drop now, will you? I can’t think straight at all. I wish you hadn’t brought it up, Helen—”
“I didn’t!” she protested.
“Oh, God!” he said irritably. “Must we have an argument about everything?”
Helen bit her lip. “No,” she said.
“Why don’t you go now?” Anita whispered to her. “I’ll look after Mr. de Vaux”
She was probably right, Helen thought diffidently. She gazed helplessly at Gregory, but he was not interested in anything further that she might have to say. She thought she would remember for ever how tenderly Anita hung over his bed and just how he looked in a pair of Peter’s pyjamas which were far too small for him. And yet what did she care if Anita was better for him at the moment? What was it to her? Gregory de Vaux was no more than her employer and one, moreover, who had been around when her husband had been killed! She would do well to remember that!
Miss Corrigan was sipping a cool drink out on the verandah. Helen noticed with amusement how straight she sat in her chair, despite her plump figure and eager manner.
“May I join you?” she asked her.
“Why, of course, dear! What will you have to drink? Where’s that Anita of yours? Is she coming down too?”
Helen forced herself to look cheerful. “I think she’s cheering up Gregory,” she said. “She has a gentle approach that he likes.”
Miss Corrigan blew noisily down her nostrils. “Nonsense!” she exclaimed finally. “I’ll grant you she’s a very feminine girl, but she’ll annoy Gregory soon enough. That man is no fool, and there are mighty few that one can say that about!”
“At least she doesn’t annoy him as much as I do,” Helen sighed. “Miss Corrigan, do you mind if I ask you something? What are you going to do with the shark?”
Miss Corrigan smiled. “You’ll see, at my party,” she promised. “I’ll have the teeth turned into a necklace for you.”
Helen shivered. “I don’t think I’d like that,” she said. “I’d remember what those teeth did to Gregory every time I looked at them.”
Miss Corrigan looked at her thoughtfully. “You’ll be telling me next that you’re in love with the man!” she said obliquely.
Helen blushed. “But that wouldn’t be true!” she said in such a rush that the words ran into one another and she didn’t think that the old lady had understood her properly. “How could you think such a thing? You forget! I’m only here because it was here that Michael died. I haven’t any other reason to stay. You must be able to see that?”
Miss Corrigan laughed. “I see what I want to see, like everyone else,” she said flatly. “Drink up, my dear, I have things to do.”
The sun had only just risen above the horizon, casting a red and gold glow over the whole island, when Helen slipped on her clothes and started through the village towards the jetty and the Sweet Promise. Taine-Mal was already on board, though; as soon as he saw her, he came hurrying across the jetty, his usual cheerful grin stretched on his face. “Hullo, little sister, how are you now?” he greeted her.
Helen swallowed her amusement. “How are you?” she retorted.
His grin grew, revealing yet more filed teeth to her gaze. “I am happy now the shark is dead and my family is revenged,” he said.
“You must be,” she agreed sympathetically. “I’m afraid it wasn’t quite such a successful operation as I had hoped,” she sighed. “My father would have done much better.”
“But our little sister understands these matters very well,” he said with such obvious pride that she was touched. “The Boss said as much before he was hurt. The Boss like you very much.”
Helen was afraid she would cry. “I think you are exaggerating,” she said mildly. “Will you help me on board?”
He did so with a gentle touch that she found soothing balm to her bruised spirit. “I’m afraid that we won’t get much diving done until Mr. de Vaux is better,” she said to him.
“But you can dive,” he replied, astonished.
‘But can you and Na-Tinn manage the boat between you?” she asked him quickly.
This touched his professional pride. “Of course,” he said simply.
Helen believed him. She went down below into the saloon in a thoughtful mood. Perhaps it would be possible, she thought. If she herself did the diving, the Polynesians were well trained when it came to looking after things above surface. Only she had never taken responsibility for a dive before. Supposing she couldn’t find the ship? It was quite possible, for she knew nothing whatsoever about navigation. Slowly she unrolled the charts that she had seen Gregory use, wondering if she would be able to understand them. Lines and lines of little figures covered the white sheets and at first sight she thought they were going beyond her. But when she looked at them closer, she found that they were quite reasonable. She could follow the line of the reef and she could see exactly which parts were deep enough for her to be able to take the Sweet Promise through to where the wreck was lying.
“Taine-Mal!” she called up the companionway.
“Little sister!”
“Has Na-Tinn come on board yet?”
“Sure thing. He’s patching the sails. The spare ones sure are a mess!”
Helen hesitated. “Could you ask him to come down here?” she said.
She shrugged her shoulders, knowing that she had already made her decision even if she was going to consult the others to see if they thought it was a possibility. She was going to take out the Sweet Promise and she was going down to the wreck by herself to lay the ship open ready for Gregory as soon as he was well enough to dive again.
Na-Tinn came down the steps and stood respectfully a few feet away from where she was standing, leaning over the table and frowning fiercely in an effort to concentrate on the charts better.
“Do you know anything about these charts?” she asked him abruptly.
He shook his head. “No, little sister. But they are not needed by us. I can take a boat anywhere in Melongese waters without trouble. I have always known these waters.”
“In a small dug-out canoe perhaps,” she said doubtfully. “But the Sweet Promise needs quite a bit of water under her.”
Na-Tinn smiled gently. “I know the way to the wreck. I could find it blindfolded. Truly, little sister, I know these waters.”
“I hope so.” Her eyes met his. There was something about his warm confidence that convinced her. “Gregory would never forgive us if anything were to happen,” she said.
“The Boss will be pleased,” he answered. “Nothing bad will happen. It will be much worse if we lose the good time. The wreck may not stay on the reef for another season of rain and typhoons. The Boss won’t be pleased if we lose everything that way.”
“So we go,” Helen said.
Na-Tinn nodded and grinned. “I go tell Taine-Mal,” he said.
Actually it was easier than Helen had thought. Na-Tinn cast off the ropes fore and aft and she slipped the engine into gear, shoving her knee against the long shaft until it clicked into position. Slowly the Sweet Promise came about and chugged out of the harbour, through the narrow channel in the reef and out into the rougher waters beyond. Helen knew a moment of acute anxiety as the men hauled up the sails and the wind took over from the engine, speeding the Sweet Promise over the open sea. The spray came down on the deck like fine rain, smelling salt and clean. Behind, they left a wake that was straight and true and before them was the whole archipelago of islands, each looking prettier than the last, and each with its own reef of coral and small, calm bays edged with white sand and palm trees, looking like a paradise indeed.
Helen turned the wheel over to Na-Tinn and went forward to check the diving equipment. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could be allowed to go wrong. She checked and double checked each individual part and then, when she was satisfied, went below and changed into her diving suit. Taine-Mal helped her into the harness that carried the cylinders of compressed air and tied the weighted belt around her waist. Na-Tinn dropped the sails and the anchor chain gushed out of its holes and dropped deep down into the sea. The Sweet Promise came to a shuddering stop and sat, quivering, in the navy blue sea. A few feet away the colour of the water changed, pointing out where the shelf was down below. They h
ad come to the right spot, Helen was sure of that. So far it was going well, she thought, and hoped earnestly that the rest of the day would be as good as its beginning.
The Polynesian brothers helped her over the side and into the water. She took longer than usual to accustom herself to the water and to fit her mask to make sure that the air was flowing properly and that she was quite comfortable. When she was quite ready, she signalled up to them for the rest of the equipment and then struck out downwards towards the dim shape of the sunken frigate below her. The list of the wreck had increased since she had last been down. She wasn’t sure how she knew it, but she was quite sure that it had shifted. Her heart hammered within her as she moved round the shelf, changing her approach to the wreck so as to disturb it as little as possible. Beneath the bows of the frigate, she could see the crushed coral that was holding the wreck on to the shelf. There was no doubt that it was beginning to give way. She would have to hurry if she was going to open up a hole large enough for them to crawl inside before the shelf gave way entirely and the frigate sank down into the measureless depths below where they would never be able to reach her.
She soon found the place where they had been working before and started the lengthy business of burning her way through the outer plate. It wasn’t long before the heavy metal gave way. Even in the waiter where weights are far less than they would be on land, it was as much as she could do to hold it away from the wreck and send it spinning down below. There was only the inner skin of the ship now to cut through and she set to work with a will, setting herself the task of doing a certain number of feet before she surfaced.
When she did surface, her oxygen gauge registered nearly empty. It was silly to take such a stupid risk, she told herself crossly, but even so a warm glow of satisfaction spread over her at the thought of how much she had achieved and quite by herself. By the time Gregory was well enough to dive, she would have opened up the side of the frigate and there would be nothing else to do before they went inside and brought up the gold.
Na-Tinn and Taine-Mal were as pleased as she was. “You tell the Boss about it tonight?” they asked her.
