The White Witch of the South Seas

by Dennis Wheatley

  From Gregory’s swift glance at his would-be murderers he derived only one ray of comfort. Shooting with pistols from a heaving boat, their aim must be uncertain. Even so, there was a very nasty chance that they might get him, so he promptly dived. A dozen swift strokes took him under the sinking launch. With aching lungs he surfaced on its far side. But he knew that it could give him only temporary protection.

  Anxiously he looked round for his companions. The boatman, emitting a stream of curses, was clinging to the other side of the launch, but James was nowhere to be seen. Gregory was now faced with a choice of remaining where he was, or striking out for the shore. If he did the latter, it seemed certain that he would be spotted and the Colons would come in pursuit of him; so it seemed safer to remain under cover, anyhow for as long as the wreck stayed afloat. Just then she swung a little, revealing beyond her stern a box-like wooden structure that was floating a few feet away from the main wreck. It was the roof which had been blown off the cabin.

  Striking out, Gregory swam towards it. He had barely reached the half-submerged roof when he caught a glimpse of the Colons’ launch. They had switched on the engine and had come round the wreck to hunt him down. Knowing that his life now hung by a thread, he ducked and thrust himself sideways so as to come up beneath the cabin roof. While under water, he barged into an obstruction. Coming up, he shook the water from his eyes. To his delight, the obstruction proved to be James, who had already taken cover under the floating roof.

  Finding that it was Gregory who had joined him, James began to speak; but, fearful that they would be heard and discovered, Gregory quickly put a hand over his friend’s mouth. Under their hideout there was barely enough room for both of them to lie floating on their backs, and between the top of the roof and the water there were only a few inches of air space. Their faces were half submerged and wavelets constantly slapped over them.

  They had been reunited for no more than two minutes when three shots rang out, followed by a piercing scream. That told them without a doubt that the Colons had spotted the boatman clinging to the wreck. To make certain that he did not survive to bear witness against them, they had killed the poor fellow in cold blood.

  This brutal act was the final confirmation of Gregory’s fears that they would not be satisfied and head back to land until they had killed James and himself; and every moment their position was becoming more precarious. To prevent themselves from floating out through the open end of their box-like cover, each of them had to hold on to the underside of the roof, and their weight was dragging it down. Another few minutes and there would be no air space at all left. Then they must either drown there or come out to face a hail of bullets.

  Minutes that seemed an eternity dragged by; then, blinded and half suffocated, Gregory could bear it no longer. Ducking down, he came up outside but still clinging to their cover. Staring apprehensively across the choppy waves he drew in a succession of deep breaths. To his infinite relief, the launch was not in sight. Cautiously he peered round the side of the roof and there she was, obviously still hunting them as she circled slowly not more than a hundred yards away. He had been lucky to surface with the roof between him and her, otherwise he would certainly have been seen. But how much longer could his luck last? Even as he wondered, the launch turned in his direction.

  At that moment James came up beside him and gasped, ‘The roof served us well but … but it’s no good any longer. Too low in the water.’

  ‘Only chance left is to make a dash for it,’ Gregory muttered. ‘But with luck they won’t get us both. You strike out in one direction, I’ll take the other.’

  As he spoke there sounded a drumming on the roof, but both of them were so concerned about what might happen in the next few minutes that neither of them took any notice of it.

  James put a hand on Gregory’s shoulder. ‘No, I’m a much stronger swimmer than you. Stay here behind the cover the roof still provides, while I give them a run for their money. Then, when you see them going after me, you’ll have a much better chance of getting away.’

  Before Gregory could protest, his young friend had submerged and was swiftly swimming off under water. In an agony of apprehension he awaited the outcome. His eyes only just above water level, between each wave-crest he snatched anxious glimpses of the oncoming launch. As the seconds passed, he began to breathe a trifle more freely. Suddenly a cry went up and the launch swerved in the direction that James had taken. But no shots were fired. Having come up for air, James must have dived again, and they had temporarily lost sight of him.

  Only then did Gregory realise that the drumming on the roof had been rain. A minute passed, two, three. Still no shots, and the rain had increased to one of those unexpected downpours that are frequent in tropical countries. Another minute and he could no longer see the launch. With a great sigh of thankfulness, he realised that, now she was no longer visible, it was quite certain that the men in her would not be able to spot James’ dark head in the tossing waters.

  A great surge of joy flooded through Gregory. He was seized with an impulse to shout aloud at this triumph of the brave young Ratu over their enemies, and cheer him on. But his elation was short-lived. Like a douche of icy water, awareness of the desperateness of his own situation returned to him. For the past quarter of an hour his thoughts had been so engrossed with keeping out of sight of the two murderous Colons, and anxiously awaiting the result of James’ gallant attempt to leave him a free field, that he had forgotten that he was a mile from the shore and, pulled down by his waterlogged clothes, would almost certainly drown before he could reach it.

  The idea that he and James should strike out in different directions for the coast had seemed sound when they had exchanged their few hurried words. But to risk putting it into practice was a very different matter. As long as he hung on to the cabin roof he could keep afloat, but once he abandoned it his chances of survival seemed terrifyingly slender.

  Yet even to remain there was fraught with peril. Tropical storms were usually of short duration and ceased as abruptly as they started. In another few minutes the protective curtain of rain might dissolve and the sun break through. It seemed certain that the Colons would then return for a last look round the wreck to make sure that he was not clinging to it. So far, it was only by sheer luck that they had overlooked the possibility that one of their intended victims might have taken cover beneath the cabin roof. On their return, the luck might turn against him. Then he could expect a bullet fired at close quarters.

  The rain was already easing. Inaction being abhorrent to him, he forced himself to make up his mind. But his decision was a compromise. Instead of abandoning the roof, he would endeavour to get it as far as possible away from the danger area of the wreck. Still clinging to it, he kicked out with his legs, pushing it before him.

  As it was quite light and the downpour had rendered the lake calmer, he made good progress. By the time the rain ceased altogether, he had covered some two hundred yards. Peering round the side he could again see the launch. She was slowly patrolling about halfway between the wreck and the shore, evidently still searching for James.

  Slightly altering his direction to keep well away from her, Gregory kept going for a further five minutes. Then he saw the launch turn towards the wreck and suddenly increase her speed. His heart lifted, for this new move indicated that the hunt had been given up and James had got away. But in a few moments now he would be in deadly danger. The launch must pass within a hundred yards of him. Unless he could keep his head under water for several minutes he would be spotted. Or they might alter direction slightly to find out if he was clinging to the roof. In either case the game would be up.

  With bated breath he watched her approach while preparing to duck under the roof. Just as he was about to do so, to his amazement and relief she suddenly altered course again, heading across the lake in the direction of the hotel.

  For a moment he was completely puzzled by this swift change of intent. Then, as he pushed
the roof round a little, so as to head for the nearest beach, a sideways glance gave him the explanation. The wreck had disappeared. It must have sunk only a few moments before and, seeing it go down, Lacost had decided that there was no point in returning to it.

  The best part of half an hour had elapsed since Lacost had thrown his bomb. During this time Gregory’s mind had been constantly occupied with the urgent question of what next to do that would give him the best chance of escaping with his life; so he had given little heed to his physical condition. But, now that immediate peril of being murdered was past, he was again beset by acute anxiety about his staying powers.

  In spite of the distance he had pushed the roof it was little nearer the shore, as a current had swept it in a sideways direction. His water-filled shoes felt like lumps of lead, the muscles of his legs were aching badly and, most menacing of all, the lake water was very cold.

  Even if he ceased thrusting with his legs, sooner or later the roof must drift ashore, provided he could continue to keep his hold on it. But his hands were becoming numb and the explosion had thrown a film of oil on to the roof, making it slightly slippery. So could he cling on for an hour, two hours, three perhaps? That was the awful question.

  For what seemed an endless time he struggled on, alternately pushing the roof before him for some fifty yards, then resting. From time to time he let go of it, trod water and clapped his hands vigorously to restore their circulation. But now each breath he drew pained his chest, and by the time he was halfway to the shore he decided that he had little chance of setting foot on it.

  When he had lost Erika he had himself narrowly escaped drowning in the Pacific. Just over a fortnight ago in Rio he had been saved from drowning only by a miracle. Now he was again faced with drowning. It seemed that he was fated to die that way. In his case it would not be ‘third time lucky’.

  Then an idea came to him. If he stopped swimming, and instead used the roof as a raft, there was just a chance that it might have sufficient buoyancy to bear his weight until it was washed up.

  After two unsuccessful attempts he managed to turn the roof over so that it formed a shallow, oblong-shaped boat, one end of which was missing. He then had to get into it. As soon as he put his full weight on one side that side went under. Four times it overturned completely, so that he gulped in water and came up beneath it. But persistence was second nature to Gregory. At the fifth attempt he managed to spreadeagle himself upon it, half submerged in the water with which it was filled. Only the broken edges of the three sides now showed above the surface, but at least it kept him afloat. Near the end of his tether, he lay there face down, fighting to keep conscious, as he knew that if he passed out, even for a moment, the least shifting of his weight would cause the roof to overbalance.

  As time passed, now that he no longer had to make any considerable effort, he gradually got his breath back and his condition improved a little; but whether his endurance would have proved sufficient for him to maintain his precarious position until wind or a current carried him to land remained open to question.

  He was roused from semi-lethargy by a shout and, lifting his head, saw James swimming vigorously towards him. From the shore the Ratu had sighted the roof and wondered if Gregory was still clinging to it. He had already made up his mind to swim off and find out when he saw Gregory struggling to turn the roof into a raft, and set off to his rescue.

  As the raft was still a quarter of a mile from land, it was hard work to push and tow it to the beach; but James was a magnificent swimmer and at length the two friends staggered ashore, worn out but thankful to be still alive.

  It seemed to them that many hours had elapsed since they had left San Antonio Palopo; but Gregory’s waterproof watch showed it to be only a little after five o’clock, so they could not have been in the water for much more than an hour and a quarter. Fortunately, they had landed on the promontory furthest from San Antonio; but, even so, as they would still have to go round the furthest bay, they were several miles from the Hotel Tzanjuyu.

  As the sun was no longer sufficiently strong to dry their clothes on them, they took off all but their under-garments. Then, when they were well rested, carrying their other things, they set off on their long tramp. It proved far from easy going, as there was no path along the shore. At times they had to scramble over patches of rock and at others, where precipitous cliffs came straight down to the water, make their way up steep slopes, then through long patches of scrub to the next beach.

  Every twenty minutes or so they sat down for a breather and discussed what they should say about their recent experience when they reached the hotel. As there had been no boatman in the Colons’ launch, it seemed probable that they had stolen it from one of the villas on the foreshore. If so, the odds were that they would beach it somewhere not far distant from the road, regain a car that they had left in some secluded spot, and by now be well on their way back to Antigua without anyone in Panajachel having seen them. As they had set out intending to commit murder, it could also be assumed that they had arranged some form of alibi. In consequence, if a charge was brought against them, it might be impossible to prove that they had even been in the district.

  In any case, bringing a charge would mean Gregory and James being detained in Guatemala as essential witnesses, perhaps for several weeks, which would seriously interfere with their own plans, and be a foolish thing to do if there was little hope of bringing the criminals to justice. They therefore decided to make no mention of having even seen the Colons or their launch, and simply say that their own boat had blown up without warning, leading to the unfortunate loss of the boatman.

  When they had accomplished about two-thirds of their trek they came upon a cluster of poor dwellings. From them a rough track led on round the lake, which was fortunate, as by then darkness was falling, and it was past eight when they came in sight of the first villa on the long beach outside Panajachel.

  James’ splendid physique had enabled him to come through their ordeal without ill-effect, but, fit as Gregory was for his age, his powers of endurance were no longer what they had been and he was drooping with fatigue. So, instead of continuing on the last mile to the hotel, they knocked up the occupants of the villa.

  They proved to be an elderly couple and the husband was a German, so Gregory was able to tell him without difficulty about their boat having blown up. The man said that he had been resident in Guatemala for many years and had recently retired from the export business. No doubt that was true, although Gregory had a shrewd suspicion that he was one of the many Nazis who, after the defeat of Hitler, had emigrated to Latin America. But the couple could not have been kinder and more helpful. Having refreshed their visitors with drinks, as they had no telephone they sent a servant with a message to the hotel; and twenty minutes later the driver from Antigua, who had been very worried by his passengers’ failure to return, arrived with the car.

  It was by then nearly nine o’clock and Gregory was feeling terribly done up, so instead of setting out on the long drive back, they decided to spend the night at the Tzanjuyu. There they gave the manager their account of what had happened and commiserated with him on the death of his boatman and the loss of his boat. With Latin resignation he said that ‘one must accept the trials sent by the Good God’ and that he would break the sad news to the man’s widow. Feeling himself responsible in part for the tragedy, Gregory produced his book of traveller’s cheques and cashed one for a considerable sum to be given to her. He then put through a call to Manon.

  It did not come through until they were finishing a belated supper. On hearing his voice, she was infinitely more relieved than he could know, but he put her breathless exclamations of delight at his safety down to her perhaps loving him more than he had thought. He told her only that the boat that James and he had been in had blown up, but that they were both unharmed and expected to be back by lunchtime the next day.

  Manon had no doubt at all that Lacost had in some way caused the explosion
to occur; and she hurried to his room, intending to upbraid him for his callous disregard of her interests by endangering Gregory’s life as well as that of James. But she found his room empty and, on enquiring at the desk, learned that he and Corbin had departed that morning, leaving no address.

  On his return to Antigua the next day, Gregory gave her the full story of what had taken place. It did not surprise her in the least but, wide-eyed, she listened with simulated horror to his tale of Lacost’s villainy. Then, when Gregory had done, she burst out:

  ‘But, chéri, you have only yourself to blame. That this terrible man would attempt to kill you I did not think. But injure you, and seriously, yes. Did I not warn you that these Colons are without scruple? Embittered by their misfortunes they have become hard, brutal men. Now that Lacost and his confréres have this chance to retrieve their broken fortunes they will stick at nothing to gain their ends. Already you have escaped death at their hands only by a miracle. Now that they have shown their determination to rid themselves of you, it is certain that they will try, again and again.

  ‘I implore you to be sensible. Forget this wretched gold. What is it to you, who are already so rich? Give the good James a sum of money—a big sum—so that he can improve the prospects of his people. However large, it would be cheap as the price of your life. Instead, come with me to Fiji. We will laze in the sunshine, drink champagne together in the moonlight, make love under the stars. If you prefer, I will come to Europe with you. I’ll do anything you ask. I am yours to do with as you will. You know that.’

  He kissed her hand, finished his second daiquiri and said,

  ‘No, darling, no. You are sweetness personified and I adore you. Perhaps I would have been wise to listen to you in Rio, or even after Lacost threatened me here. But now the game is set and must be played out. Those two rogues did their best to kill James and me. And they did kill that poor devil the boatman. Now I mean to kill them, even if I swing for it.’