Savages

by Shirley Conran

  A couple of men clustered around a hidden object that was obviously of absorbing interest to them. Their bodies were cut with the same intricate pattern of welts as Yellow-Face’s, and their faces were similarly smeared with bright ocher. Some wore bird-of-paradise plumes in their hair, some had feathers stuck through their noses, but they wore no clothes except a sex gourd. Suddenly the air was rent with an ear-splitting screech of static.

  Harry, who had given up hope, incredulously realized that they had, perhaps, arrived at the place they sought. For these men were arguing over a transistor radio.

  Yellow-Face shouted a greeting. Watched by everyone in the village, he jumped from his canoe onto a rock. Harry and the interpreter scrambled over the side of the dinghy and found themselves up to their armpits in mud. Everyone yelled with laughter. It had been a most successful debut.

  Harry immediately distributed cigarettes while his interpreter located Radio Paui on what was clearly a new transistor.

  In the shade beneath a hut, they ate fried catfish and sago pancakes, a dull meal that was eaten quickly, in silence. Afterward, everyone got down to business. The interpreter explained that the white man would pay well for any possession of the Filipino soldier who had been wearing a watch.

  Nobody moved, but the atmosphere changed from one of friendliness to wariness.

  Hastily, the interpreter explained that neither he nor Harry was a relative of this dead soldier, but that the white man had purchased the watch in Queenstown and now wished to buy the other things of the soldier.

  The luluai stood and beckoned to his two visitors. They followed him, climbing up the rickety ladder of a hut. Inside the hot, dark, windowless space, stone implements and hatchets stood against the walls and ceremonial masks, striped in white, rust and charcoal, hung from the rafters. They sat cross-legged on the wooden floor. Behind them, men crowded into the hut. As the luluai spoke, the stench of unwashed bodies was overwhelming.

  The interpreter looked nervously at Harry. “This feller say you me come in their place, so they keep boat.”

  Harry had been mildly surprised that he had kept his possessions this long. He said, “Tell them that if they give us the possessions of the pig-stealing kanaka soldier, we will give them two more boats.”

  The interpreter looked frightened. “Master, this feller say all he keep you me this place, pass time two feller boat, he come up.”

  So they were prisoners, to be ransomed for two more boats.

  Before Harry could reach beneath his safari jacket for the revolver tucked in his waistband, both he and the interpreter were gripped from behind. They had been caught in a confined space and overcome by sheer numbers. Harry knew that it would have been crazy to try anything clever or even to have made a swift movement.

  Since he’d started his search, he had known that there was a risk of being captured or killed, but he also knew that he would find nothing unless he searched. He had presented gifts to this tribe and had been given a meal, which is a sure sign of friendship. Harry had no reason to have had his revolver in his hand; in fact, that would definitely have been interpreted as a hostile approach.

  Justify it as he might, Harry had let himself be caught off-guard.

  After the two prisoners had been stripped of everything, including both their watches and Harry’s revolver, their arms and legs were bound with rattan cords. They were then tethered by their necks to the rafters, standing out of reach of each other.

  Without another look at either of their prisoners, the village men lowered the ladder, scrambled down it and took it away.

  The cord around Harry’s neck was unpleasantly tight, and he was soaked in sweat. He thought that if he tried to move and lost his balance or fainted, he would hang himself.

  He told himself that a dead Harry was no use to these people and they knew it. This treatment was just to show him they meant business.

  “Does this often happen?” Harry asked.

  “Kissim ransom,” the interpreter said sadly.

  “Do you think that ransom money is the only reason?”

  “Yes, master. Suppose this feller like kill him, you-me. They kill you-me, quicktime.”

  “But if they kill us, they can’t start the boat engine.”

  The interpreter nodded. “This feller savvy.” He started to sob.

  Harry said, “Nexus will come looking for us soon. Probably, they are already looking for us because I didn’t fire the three o’clock flare. They know where we are. I told the pilot that we were going to the village of Malong.”

  “No, master.” The interpreter sobbed harder. “This feller name no belong this village.” “Malong,” he explained, was the word for a type of land and there were many, many villages in Malong, which meant “swamp.”

  “We lost, master.”

  27

  The women, shaking with fear, hearts thudding, melted back into the jungle twilight, away from that severed arm with its terrible snake tattoo, away from the kaleidoscopic color and noise of the native feast.

  When they had moved back about a hundred yards, Annie, now in the rear, whistled. The women halted.

  Annie said, “At least now we know where we are. That was Katanga village, so if we circle around it to the east we’ll get back to William Penn.”

  Carey whispered, “Not too far to the east. We don’t dare get out of earshot of the village because that’s our fix.”

  They moved on. Every twig that cracked, every rustle, every birdcall made them thrill to their fingertips with terror. Panic made them short of breath, but their fear sent adrenaline coursing through their bloodstreams, giving them new strength and alertness as they edged around the village. Finally, they reached the familiar narrow track that threaded northward through the trees.

  Gratefully, the women hurried along it, faster and faster, until their stealthy jungle lope developed into a run, then into a mad, headlong hurtling. Careless of who or what they might encounter on the track, all jungle lore forgotten in their panic, they crashed along as fast as they could. Patty raced ahead, with Suzy behind her. Nobody checked to see if the woman behind her was following. Annie, in the rear, felt as though her back might at any moment feel the thrust of a poisontipped arrow.

  As soon as they spotted the Burma bridge they veered left into the taboo area. They crashed frantically through the dank bush. Startled parakeets squawked, birds fluttered in alarm.

  “Stop! Patty!” Annie screamed, but the racing, ragged figures sped ahead, until finally they came to a quivering halt at the outskirts of their camp.

  All day Silvana had been in a purgatory of her own making. Repeatedly she had asked herself how could she have endangered all their lives? How could she have endangered her own life? She might have been found strangled this morning under that tree. And how could the fastidious Mrs. Graham have writhed with passion, hope and gratitude beneath a greasy, calculating little gigolo whom she’d only known a few days?

  Silvana’s head angrily asked these questions, but she knew that it wasn’t her head that had betrayed her. Silvana had been betrayed by her own starved libido.

  When she heard the noise of the other women’s crashing return, her first reaction was fear, then overwhelming relief at the distraction from her thoughts. She slung the rifle on her back and quickly slithered down the lookout tree. “What’s happened?” she called softly.

  Sobbing and shaking, teeth clattering with fear, the women were incoherent.

  “Water!” Suzy headed for the bucket.

  They all clustered around the bucket, scooping from it with their hands, intent only on slaking their thirst.

  Seeing Silvana’s questioning face, Annie said, “He’s dead.”

  Silvana’s eyes filled with tears. She knew she should be glad to hear this, for it meant that they were no longer in immediate danger. But her heart felt as if it had been physically squeezed.

  Annie said softly, “He was a thief, Silvana. He stole our watches. He stole something diff
erent from you.”

  As Annie gently told Silvana what they had seen, Suzy started to scream. “I can’t stand this fucking awful place any longer. Do you think we’re ever going to get off it? Do you think we’ll ever escape?”

  Annie said, “Stop it, Suzy! This is no time to crack. We must think of nothing except finishing that raft! Tonight we rest, but as soon as we wake up, we work nonstop until it’s finished!”

  Suzy whimpered, “Couldn’t we settle for a smaller raft and leave tomorrow evening?”

  “No!” Carey said sharply. “What’s the point of going through all this, then setting out to sea on a raft that’s too small? We’d slide off as soon as we hit rough water. It’ll only take another two days to finish it properly.”

  Patty nodded. “We’ve survived here for four months. We can last another couple of days.”

  Through gritted teeth, Annie said, “We’re going to work until we drop. We’re going to concentrate on that damned raft and we are going to get off this island! Now let’s have something to eat and get to bed. Silvana, you’ll have to keep lookout for as long as you can tonight. We’d only fall asleep.”

  TUESDAY, MARCH 12

  Silvana managed to keep watch until morning. As soon as the trees of the camp were discernible, she woke the other women. They prized their stiff bodies from their beds. They thought only of the raft as they ate bits of cold parrotfish from taro-leaf plates. They decided to try to work through the exhausting midday heat.

  They did not talk as they worked. An aura of fear and agitation hung over them, and they worked swiftly, binding the bamboo poles with plaited vines. Their tattered fishing gloves now reeked of mildew and decay. Annie guessed they would not last much longer.

  During a five-minute break, Suzy turned to Patty and said with surprising timidity, “Could you maybe check your watch for what the date is today?”

  “Who the hell cares?” Patty scowled but checked her watch. “March twelfth.”

  Suzy burst into tears.

  Carey asked, “Is it a birthday?”

  Suzy nodded tearfully. “Brett’s. Tomorrow.”

  “Stop that!” Annie said crossly. “If you want to cry, go off and do it alone. You know the rules.”

  They all knew that depression was more contagious than measles, and that it weakened them, as a group.

  Abruptly, Patty stopped tugging at the vines. She lifted her head. “What’s that noise?”

  Carey said wonderingly, “It’s an outboard motor. That’s what it sounds like. Could it be?”

  “Keep working, everyone,” said Annie. “Patty, go see what the noise is.”

  Within a few minutes Patty returned. “A small dinghy just entered the lagoon,” she reported. “There are three men aboard. They look like soldiers.”

  The women jumped to their feet. Annie asked, “Only three men? You’re sure? There are five of us and we have two rifles.”

  Patty nodded. “Three men.”

  “You see what happens when we don’t have a lookout?” Carey panted crossly as they ran toward the clifftop.

  They flung themselves down in the coarse, knee-high grass, snaked up to the edge of the cliff and slowly lifted their heads.

  In the center of the lagoon, a small dinghy was approaching the beach. The outboard cut abruptly, and an anchor was thrown over the side.

  Annie whispered, “How high’s the tide?”

  “Coming in,” Carey whispered back. “Low tide was at eight o’clock. High tide at around eight this evening.”

  Cautiously, Suzy lifted her head higher. “They don’t seem to be in a fighting mood. And they’re obviously not looking for us, thank God.”

  The three khaki-clad figures in the boat were laughing and joking as they removed their boots, rolled up their pants, and jumped over the side.

  As the last man jumped off, the moored dinghy jerked and swung around. Painted in black on her white transom were the words “Paradise Hotel.”

  The men waded to shore, carrying bottles and bright orange towels. Patty said, “Those look like the hotel’s pool towels.”

  Annie breathed, “Do they have rifles?”

  “If so, they’ve left them in the boat,” Carey whispered. “Get your head down, Suzy.”

  Patty said, “They’d be crazy to move around without rifles, so let’s assume they’re armed.”

  Once ashore, the men undressed. Naked, they no longer seemed dangerous. Their black bodies gleamed in the sunlight as they splashed in the water, shouting and laughing, lunging playfully at each other, wrestling on the sand. They looked boyish and innocent.

  “They’re city guys,” Carey whispered. “Fisher folk wouldn’t see the point of spending a day on the beach like tourists.”

  Two of the men walked to the dark shade of the trees at the back of the beach, where the women could no longer see them. The third man waded out to the dinghy, swigging from a bottle as he went. When he waded back to the beach he was carrying three rifles.

  From beneath the palms, the men shot at seashells and rocks. The peaceful bay cracked with noise. Patty was shocked. “What a waste of ammunition! They must have let off at least twenty rounds.”

  Patty whispered longingly, “Just look at that beautiful boat.”

  The white fiberglass dinghy was about twelve feet long and had a locker in the bow. It was too far away for the women to see anything else.

  Annie whispered, “Why not steal that boat? We don’t know that the raft is going to float.”

  Carey nodded thoughtfully. “Even if the raft does float, I’m worried about the way she might pitch. We could easily lose someone overboard in the night.”

  Annie warmed to the idea. “It’s got an outboard motor, a can of gas, a rudder and an anchor. We’d be heading to Irian Jaya in a boat we could control.”

  “They’re not going to sit by and let us take it,” Suzy pointed out.

  “No,” Annie agreed.

  “Couldn’t we somehow get the men out of the way and steal the boat, so that it looks like an accident?” Patty suggested.

  “Can you think of a way? I can’t,” Suzy said.

  Annie said, “What would a man do?”

  “What would Jonathan do?” Suzy asked.

  “A surprise attack would be better than stealing a boat that belongs to three guys with three rifles,” Carey said. “The safest thing to do is attack fast—before they decide to climb up the waterfall path just for fun. Once they see our camp, we’ve had it.”

  Softly, Annie said, “It looks as though they’re going to be on the beach for some time. Let’s get back to camp where we can talk. Suzy had better be lookout. Wake Silvana, somebody.”

  As Suzy climbed the tree, the other women squatted around the base of the eucalyptus. Carey started to outline a plan.

  Nobody looked very enthusiastic.

  Carey said, “Sure they’re armed, but we’re armed too—and we’ve got the element of surprise on our side. We know where they are, but they don’t know where we are—or even that we exist. Let’s think of a plan that uses surprise, all the way.”

  Annie said, “Those soldiers will be expecting us to act like women, so we should act like men.”

  “Why not simply shoot them from the clifftop?” Suzy suggested from the branches above.

  “Because we might miss, dummy!” Patty said. “Then they’ll either be up here shooting or taking off in the boat at top speed.”

  “Trouble is, we’ve never actually shot anyone,” Annie said. “Only simulated it.”

  “Okay, what do you suggest?” Suzy snapped down from the eucalyptus tree.

  “Jonathan always said that before you attack, you should put yourself in the enemy’s shoes,” Annie said slowly. “Watch their habits and routine. Base your plan on observation.”

  “So we’ve observed that they’re down there, with the habit of drinking cocktails before lunch,” Suzy said. “They’re just out for a good time. How does that help us?”

  “A go
od time.” Patty repeated Suzy’s words thoughtfully. “What we want to do is to get them out of the way, so that we can get their guns, then we have their boat. I suppose the way to do it is to offer them a good time.”

  “What do you mean?” Annie asked.

  “Suzy,” Patty said.

  There was a shout of indignation from the eucalyptus tree, quickly hushed by Annie.

  Patty said, “We can send Suzy down to the beach as a decoy. She can lure the soldiers into the quicksand.”

  “Why not Silvana?” Suzy hissed down. “She’d probably be glad if they caught her and raped her.”

  “Enough of that,” Annie said. “The one we should use as a decoy is the one with the best-looking body.”

  “No, the biggest tits,” Suzy called down. “Silvana.”

  Except for jungle ulcers, the women were now in first-class physical condition. Tanned and supple, none of them carried any extra weight, and because they were on a permanent diet of protein and fruit and were well exercised, they moved with grace and agility. But undoubtedly, Silvana had the biggest breasts.

  Wondering whether it was her punishment or her absolution, Silvana said, “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  “No, Silvana,” Annie said. “As she runs away from those guys toward the quicksand, our bait must look enticing from the rear.”

  “Shit!” A shower of eucalyptus leaves fell to the earth below. “Seriously, you guys, what happens if they catch me?” Suzy called down anxiously.

  “Carey will be covering you from the clifftop with the M-16,” Annie said. “She’s got the best eyesight.”

  “Suppose she accidentally shoots me?” Suzy wailed.

  Patty said, “That’s a risk you’ll have to take.”

  “Suppose only one of them follows me?”

  Patty said, “Suzy, honey, you remember the way you walked by the pool in that white dress at Silvana’s party? Just before you fell in the shallow end? You just walk like that, and they’ll all follow you. We’ve seen it work, Suzy.”