'Hell, sir, they're all coming now.' Cooper was on his feet and had heaved his bulky binoculars to his face. He dropped them immediately, not liking what he saw, then swung around to look at the mass of the St Mark's army which had been sitting watching the third phase of the engagement. 'Both sides, sir. They're all moving in.'
A hundred canoes came from the port and another hundred from starboard, rushing through the sea with the warriors arched against the paddles, rushing into the final
stage of the sea battle.
'Tell them to stop, sir,' suggested Abe callously. 'Give them a shout.'
'Stop blathering. man,' answered Cooper. The Governor said nothing. He was observing the foremost echelon of each tribe, the sections he had kept apart and who had been fighting with arrows. They had, with that uncanny timing that suggested long rehearsal, stopped firing and were now moving forward again, the advance party of the main army which floated three hundred yards behind them. Again the enemies had an attitude of common purpose.
Quickly worried, the Governor spun first one way then the other and fired a warning shot from his pistol over the lines of the black heads converging on his ship. The natives took no heed.
'Prepare to repel boarders!' he ordered and was annoyed with himself because his voice had become a croak. He lifted the arrow‑shot megaphone and hooted: 'Prepare to repel boarders,' towards the reluctant boats astern. From the police boat several heads looked up and bobbed down again.
'Damn them,' swore Sir William. He brandished his pistol and saw that Davies and Abe had prudently armed themselves with marlin spikes. Cooper was waving his revoj'ver dangerously and Conway picked his nose and held his gun soberly ready.
The Governor thought he felt old enough for a bath‑chair in some retired English town. 'Prepare to repel boarders,' he ordered again.
From both flanks the tribesmen came, singing again their splendidly combined harmony, first and second tune, all together as confidently as if a single conductor was leading them. They were quickly around the launch.
'The first man over the side is dead,' threatened Sir William and, somewhere deep in his mind, wondered if the sentence made sense. Davies felt stiff with fright, but the marlin spike was hard and comforting. Abe was shaking his big head as though sorry it all had to end like this. He 239
puts his hand on the pistol arm of Cooper which was shaking. 'Don't do that son, you make me nervous,' he said. Conway was still as cold iron, his pistol with its nose slightly in the air.
But not one Melanesian head appeared over the side. Instead the men of both tribes gathered industriously around the hull, their enmity shelved in a common purpose. They were like begging natives around a newly arrived cruise boat. They clamoured there for a while. Then selected men began to rip out the planks from the side of the vessel, using axes and spears and their powerful hands. 'The Governor's launch shuddered. No one moved on board. Sir William was nonplussed. It seemed impossible to shoot in cold blood at men involved in carpentry. 'Stop it,' he called over his normal voice, realizing his inadequacy. 'Stop it at once. This is government property.'
'What are they doing?' asked Davies, not sure.
'Making a hole in the bloody thing,' said Conway.
'We'll sink,' said Davies.
'I expect we will,' said Conway. 'But we won't die, anyway. They just want us out of their way so they can get on with their battle.'
Outraged, Sir William rose from the deck, but a pattern of arrows, shot from both sides. sprinkled the cabin just above his head. He dropped down again. 'The devils, the damned devils,' he said.
'We're all alive,' pointed out Conway. 'At least we will be if nobody sticks their head above the deck again. The worse we can do is sink.'
They sank. They sank spectacularly in a rich Pacific swirl, the sea gushing and pouring through the mouths of the holes that the natives had opened in both sides of the hull. It came in like water from a fractured main, two smooth curling necks of it, one from each side, swilling around in the boat, filling it quickly.
'Abandon ship,' shrugged the Governor. 'Everybody over the side.'
'The ship is abandoning us,' said Conway, taking off his shoes.
'You have wisdom for every moment,' said the pale Cooper, nevertheless taking off his shoes too. He was surprised and thankful to be still alive and he felt some of his confidence returning.
'Can everybody swim?' asked the Governor sternly, looking about. They all nodded or said 'Yes'.
The Governor looked miserable. 'I can't,' he confessed. 'Never learned. The water's too damned cold in Scotland.'
Cooper and Abe helped the elderly man, now all subdued and pathetic in his anxiety not to drown, into a life jacket and assured him that they would keep him afloat. The boat was turning gracefully now as though she were mounted on a very slow turntable. The forepeak was well down, nuzzling under the water, the lapping small waves climbing enthusiastically over the side of the boat like children entering a forbidden garden.
They left by the stern, five plops into the Pacific, the last one a slow hesitant drop as the Governor went into the sea. They were aware of other things happening, native canoes hurrying by, the grunts and other noises of another hand‑to-hand battle. There were hundreds of combatants now, dugouts slicing through the water to join the fight, cutting by the heads of the five white men in the water. Conway and Abe helped the old Governor along, hung tragically like some hunting trophy through the lifebelt, arms hopelessly stretched out, walking with his legs, spitting out the salt water. Fortunately it was warm and easy for swimming. Davies patrolled alongside the Governor and his helpers and Cooper was irritably swimming on the other side. They sensibly moved away from both the battle and their sinking boat. It was strange looking at it from water level. The two thousand fighting men, a hundred yards away, seemed like giants grappling in the sea. The noise was almost deadened at that low level and waves coming in with the swell blocked Davies's eyes as he watched. More war canoes came by them, going like businesslike sharks through the water.
'Are there any sharks around here?' Davies asked Abe thoughtfully.
'Sharks all over the Pacific,' answered Abe affably. 'Around here they're not generally speaking hungry but I wouldn't like to say about today with all that blood on the water.'
The little party began to move strongly towards the boats which had been behind them. It was difficult to see very much from sea level, but they could see the white hull of M. Martin's cruiser closing on them. Davies wondered where the police boat had gone.
A swimming native policeman approached him smiling as though to answer the question. His wet face seemed stretched with the grin and he seemed glad to see them. Davies saw that he was followed by a little fleet of floating policemen, two white, the remainder black.
'They sank us too, sir,' beamed the English officer in the direction of the panting Governor. 'Crept up, sir, didn't see them coming.'
Sir William turned his wet head with difficulty in the uncomfortable lifebelt. He was feeling elderly, tired, and full of salt water. 'You wouldn't be likely to see them would you,' he said, coughing violently at the middle of the sentence, 'lying on the bloody deckboards.'
Nothing more was said. The efficient M. Martin had brought his boat to them and one by one, the Governor first, they were hoisted aboard, and laid out on the deck. M. Martin knelt chivalrously by Sir William. 'I am most sorry, your Excellency,' he said. 'I found it necessary to retire for a short distance in order that they should not sink my boat.'
'Damn good job you did,' said Sir William. 'Drat them. They're scrapping again.'
'Slaughtering each other, I'm afraid,' nodded the French Governor. 'There is little to be done. The other boat, I am glad to inform you, is quite safe. It seems that your Madame Flagg and M. Pollet came to some agreement with the natives and they refrained from sinking the vessel.'
From their lying positions on the deck the wet men heard at that moment the dull, awful sounds of the battle. Davies
stood up, so did Abe and Conway. Three hundred yards away the huge fight was still undiminished in intensity. Two thousand men were at close quarters now; a rumbling came from them. Many were dying. The bodies floated by on the current and with them the tom canoes. From behind they heard an engine and Mr English's white boat, with the phlegmatic Pollet and the other occupants still stiffly observing the mayhem, came alongside.
Mrs Flagg had stood starched and pale as the others, but suddenly she put her hands to her mouth and screamed like a schoolgirl: 'Come on St Mark's!'
Everyone in the two boats watched her antic. She became aware of them and she turned, at first embarrassed, then defiant. Her face heaved. 'I want them to win,' she said.
The sine" black battle continued, a low storm on the peaceful sea. The white gallery looked on helplessly, except the Governor who could look no more and was sitting in a wet sulk on the deck. M. Martin was positioned a little higher than the rest. Suddenly he motioned to one of his sailors for a pair of binoculars. He swung with them, away from the battle, away from the islands, looking out to the clean line of the ocean.
'A warship approaches,' he announced.
'The Navy!' exclaimed Sir William rising in difficult cramped stages to his feet. 'Thank God for that.'
M. Martin looked again. 'The French Navy,' he added without triumph. 'Our little warship the Auriol from Noumea come for the royal visit.'
'Hell,' said the British Governor honestly. He looked apologetically at the French Governor. 'But no. Hell,' he repeated. 'Why does it always rain on me?' He stared down at his clinging clothes and laughed a wry hopeless laugh. 'Well, your Excellency, will you ask them to do something about this er ... fr ... fracas.'
M. Martin smiled sympathetically. The triumph he thought he might feel in such a situation was much diminished by the soaked resignation of his counterpart. 'I will, your Excellency, with pleasure. Signaller.'
One of the Melanesians, suddenly full of naval strength after the sight of the warship, sprang up beside the French Governor. The French vessel, a grinding gunboat which had been doddering around the islands since she became obsolete fifteen years before, was large on the sea now. She came towards the two pale boats and their people, steaming full ahead and coughing grey smoke with the exertion. If the islanders saw her they took no heed but merely continued with their bludgeoning among the canoes.
'She's in flag range now,' calculated M. Martin. His naval commander nodded.
M. Martin dictated the signal and the signaller, with a sly cautious look over his shoulder to make sure that the tribes were still fighting out of arrow range, began thrusting and circling his flags. The French Governor watched for the acknowledgement and reply and then the signaller translated it.
'The gun isn't working,' he said apologetically to Sir William. The British Governor split his face with a small grin and looked down.
'But they do have a how‑do‑you‑say‑it,' he was not often lost for English, '... a charge for the deeps!'
'A depth charge,' suggested Cooper brightly. 'For submarines, you mean, your Excellency.'
'Correct,' said M. Martin without looking at the aide.
Abe said: 'All we have to do now is to get those natives into a submarine and drop a depth charge on them.'
The French Governor afforded him no attention. 'Unfortunately it is all that is available. The warship is on a courtesy visit,' he said stiffly.
'Pity about the twenty‑one gun salute,' said Cooper nastily. 'You were looking forward to that, your Excellency.'
Abe said: 'Have a twenty‑one depth charges salute.'
The Frenchman said evenly to the British Governor, 'If they launch the depth charge wide of the natives it will throw up a great reaction ‑ a big explosion, and a wave which will upset their boats. That should result in the solution of your problem.' Incensed by the remarks of Cooper and Abe, he was immediately more formal.
Sir William regarded him kindly. 'I am most grateful, M. Martin,' he said. 'It will terminate this silly conflict. Please ask them to use the depth charge.'
'Signaller,' said M. Martin. The Melanesian jumped like a performing doll. His flags went through their gymnastics. The French Governor watched for the reply. The signaller spoke to him.
'They will manoeuvre around us, as far to the right as is possible,' he announced. 'They will fire the charge about two hundred yards from the natives.'
M. Martin hesitated, obviously uncertain whether to add something. He decided to cover himself. 'There is a possibility, which I am sure you will ~ appreciate, that the depth charge will not explode. It is very ancient. From the war years. They have never practised with the real thing since this particular one is the only one they have.' He glanced at Sir William as though seeking understanding in a fellow sufferer. 'These islands, as you know, Governor, are not always the top priority with our Governments.'
Sir William waved his hand. 'Your Excellency, I am grateful for your assistance, and of course I understand perfectly. Not only do we not have a depth charge, we have no ship capable of firing a depth charge. I am most grateful, particularly as it is your only one.' He seemed embarrassed. 'We shall reimburse you for it of course,' he added.
The ramshackle warship tottered to within a couple: of hundred yards of the launches. A klaxon was sounding and on deck the crew could be seen running to their action stations around the useless gun under the bridge and to the depth charge launcher at the stern. The captain could be seen on the bridge issuing orders and clearly taking a cine film of the battling natives.
M. Martin coughed. 'I see our captain is using the sextant,' he observed. No one argued. They watched the warship curve, old but menacing. In the other boat Mrs Flagg began to call out in distress. 'Don't shoot! Don't shoot! They must not bombard! The United Nations will hear about this, Mr Governor!' She shook her plum fist at both Sir William and M. Martin.
'Mrs Flagg!' called the Governor sternly. 'There is no call to distress yourself. No one will be hurt.'
'The thing might not even go off,' said Conway under his breath.
It seemed that the tribesmen were unable, now, to quit the combat without damaging their honour. As they fought they looked over their shoulders at the circling warship with apprehension, but then returned to the fighting again using greater strength, each side seeking to conquer before they were both attacked by the white men.
The captain of the gunboat turned his vessel so that the stern faced the wide area over which the natives were now fiercely engaged. He backed it up like a driver backing an unwieldy lorry. Around the depth charge, sitting like a prize egg on its mounting, the crew waited. From the bridge came the order. They let it go. It flew high and wide like something thrown by a boy and plummeted into the sea two hundred yards short of the natives.
'I think I'll sit down,' said Conway on the launch. He sat down quickly on the deckboards. No one followed him. Nothing happened. The little barrel had been swallowed up and digested by the big ocean. The natives fought on eagerly like two football teams in the closing minutes of a goal‑less match. The Sexagesima people stood grouped together in the manner of evangelists awaiting a sign. Nothing happened.
'A dud,' decided Abe loudly. 'What we going to do now, spit?'
The answer came from the belly of the ocean. It burped up in a huge wet explosion, like a submarine mountain vividly erupting; a hundred feet high, sea green and blue, feathered at the edges, plumed at the crest, rumbling with power from the inside, sending great storm waves running over the surface.
It flung the white people down on the boards of their boats, jarring them and swinging the boats about like fairground contraptions. Conway, already sitting, found M. Martin lying across him. With stunned apologies the French Governor freed himself. The others lay criss‑cross246
ing each other, arms flung out, trying to regain a balance that, once regained, was immediately lost again as the boat plunged the opposite way and then was struck by the next hammer wave.
Davi
es, after rolling like a tumbler to the edge of the boat, could hear Mrs Flagg crying from the other craft. 'The poor dears! Oh, the poor dears!' Her call was swallowed by the belated roar from the depth charge; it sounded like the world splitting at its seams, deep, then loud, the sound breaking out into the sunlit day and exploding over the sea. It was a full two minutes before the boats stopped staggering. When they had settled the Governor, Sir William, was first to his feet. He looked out to where the battle had been joined.
'Done it!' he exclaimed hoarsely. 'Done it, by heavens!'
The others crept up and looked. The canoes appeared as though a hurricane had been loose among them. They were scattered and capsized, floating with the running shock waves. All round there were stunned natives in the water, swimming by instinct most of them, no weapons in their hands, no breath in their chests.
'Signaller,' ordered M. Martin, looking over the heavy ribs of the sea. 'Tell the captain to lower boats to pick up these men.'
'Well done indeed, sir,' breathed Sir William. 'Always rely on the Navy.' He added.. 'No matter whose it is.' M. Martin smiled generously. The warship's lifeboats began picking up the islanders from the sea. St Paul's and St Mark's natives sat obediently along the wooden seats like cowed children on school benches.
The bodies and debris of the battle were still floating by the launches. Mr English watched them and felt a chill. 'They are floating due south.' he said to Pollet.
'I had noticed the direction,' said Pollet. 'I wonder has the Governor also noticed.'
They looked across. They could not tell whether he had noticed. But he had.
Sixteen
It was night before they reached the harbour again. Sir William went to Government House, bathed, changed, and had a stiff double scotch. He spent the rest of the night with George Turtle at the radio station. When he returned by car to his house on the headland the early crowds were already beginning to congregate in the streets of the shabby town ready to welcome their Queen. Sir William felt like shouting to them 'Go home, go home,' but he realized how inadequate that would be. His heart was heavy for the poor little place and its hopeful, hopeless people. He saw their flags with sadness and their new flowers loaded him with humility. The Melanesian children from the mission school were sweeping the area in front of the quay and dusting down the rows of chairs. He turned the windows of the car up so that he would not hear their happy singing. He felt old and shapeless and unable to cope with life.
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