The White Witch of the South Seas

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘Thank God you’re safe!’ Gregory exclaimed. ‘But they’ll know now that either a prisoner has escaped or that someone has landed on the island without their being aware of it; so the hunt will be up.’

  James shook the glistening drops of water from his big pouffe of hair. ‘No, I don’t think so. None of them could have actually seen me, and there are wild pigs on all these islands. As I crashed away through the jungle, I made the loud grunting of a startled old boar.’

  ‘Good for you, Johnny!’ cried Frank, slapping James on the back. ‘Then we’ve not been rumbled and can still make our bid for freedom with a good chance of success.’

  On their way back to the prison they decided that the three of them, with the addition of Willy, would meet the following night, to agree a detailed plan for their escape.

  At one o’clock in the morning the four met at the rendezvous they had selected—a group of tall breadfruit trees a quarter of a mile from the prison. As Willy and Frank occupied adjacent cells, they had, during the day, spent a considerable time discussing the venture. Now Willy spoke for them both:

  ‘Seeing where those searchlights were located last night, getting clear out to sea without being spotted is going to be near impossible. Of course, on leaving the river, we’ll head east—that is round the coast to the left of the estuary—so we won’t actually have to pass the searchlight party near the village; but the moment we hoist our big sail, it’s for sure they’ll see us.’

  ‘Then we must not hoist the sail,’ Gregory replied. ‘About direction you are right. Fortunately, the searchlight party that Johnny ran into is well over a mile away and round the point; so we should be able to work our way along the coast for half a mile or more without attracting their attention. By then darkness will have hidden us from the hoodlums near the village, and ….’

  ‘But, George,’ Frank interrupted, ‘you haven’t got Willy’s point. That war canoe is a twenty-seater and as heavy as a ton of bricks. It’s going to be hellish hard to get her out of the creek to start with. Then it’s quite a stretch before we’re clear of the river mouth. The six of us could never paddle her as far as you suggest. Without the sail, come dawn the odds are we’d still be inside the reef and a sitting pigeon for those Russian bastards.’

  ‘Well, what do you suggest?’

  ‘Neither Willy nor I think much of the idea, but we might get by if we took in the two Polynesians. Two extra paddles in the canoe could just make the difference.’

  Gregory did not like the idea either. The Polynesians had shown by their grins and gestures that they were friendly enough, and James had succeeded in establishing a sketchy form of communication with them, but sufficient only to learn that they were father and son and had come down from Samoa. The reason for their adventurous voyage remained unknown. After a moment Gregory said:

  ‘I’m afraid that’s not on. I don’t doubt that they would be willing enough to join us, but how could we possibly explain to them about unscrewing the grilles in their cells? And no-one can do it for them. Besides, even if during the next few days Johnny could manage to put them wise, we can’t afford the delay. Two nights hence is the darkest phase of the moon. Then will be our best chance and we’ve got to take it.’

  Willy nodded. ‘You’re right, George, but it’s going to be one hell of a gamble.’

  ‘Not too bad,’ Gregory smiled. ‘We have one thing in our favour. All of us have spent quite a number of hours down at the estuary and none of us has ever yet seen those searchlights turned on to sweep the bay. I am sure they never make use of them unless they see a vessel approaching, and then simply to ensure that no-one manages to get ashore from it unseen. We’ll make an early start, though, so as to gain extra time for paddling the canoe as far as we can before we set her sail.’

  Previously they had never left their cells before midnight, which doubtless accounted for the fact that none of them had ever run into a Russian when going to and from the river mouth; but on the night of their great adventure they met by the group of breadfruit trees at ten o’clock. There were many more lights in the settlement than they were accustomed to see and music was coming from one of the buildings. As they were surrounded by jungle, that made it almost certain that such amusements as the Russians provided for their troops all took place inside the buildings; but at this hour there was the danger that a few of the troops might be returning from late strolls and that relieved or relieving squads might be moving from or to the beaches, so the six escapers made their way along the jungle path with extra caution.

  When they had gone some distance they caught the sound of a faint drumming. The sound rapidly increased and was coming towards them. Hastily they left the track and plunged into the rank vegetation that grew in abundance on both sides of it. They were not a moment too soon. From round the bend ahead there appeared a horseman, and a Russian officer came cantering by. In such surroundings it seemed as though they must have seen an apparition, but Gregory swiftly demolished such a fantasy by saying:

  ‘He has been visiting the outposts. And a jolly sensible way to do it. This track is not wide enough to take a jeep, so why walk or have yourself shaken to bits on a motor-cycle when God gave man the horse? Some of these Russians are not such fools as they look.’

  At the canoe house the short lengths of tree-trunk for launching the canoe had been left in a stack on one side. Quickly they placed the first half-dozen in position, then took a grip on the side of the canoe and endeavoured to slide her forward. Hewn out of one great tree-trunk of hard, tropical wood, she seemed as heavy as lead. Their efforts failed to shift her. It was James who said:

  ‘Four of us must get right underneath the bottom and attempt to lift her by taking the weight on our shoulders, while the other two pull on the prow and guide her down.’

  They did as he told them. The strain was back-breaking, but their third heave was well timed and they got her moving. Once the fore-part was on the rollers, it needed only their full strength, applied in unison, to get her to the water. As she splashed into it, they stood away, sweating and gasping from their exertions.

  Now they had to raise her mast. At its base it was nine inches thick, and tapered up to twenty feet in height. Normally the job would have been done by a dozen men; but, somehow, they managed it and hammered the chocks home to keep the heel firm. Puffing and blowing, they took a five-minute rest.

  Having got their wind back, they set about hoisting the yard, an outsize bamboo even longer than the mast on to which the great single triangular sail had already been bent. That done, James stepped into the stern of the canoe and took the steering paddle. The others grouped themselves amidships. James gave the word, they dipped their paddles and the canoe moved forward slightly.

  Launching the canoe and getting her ready for sea had taken over an hour; and another three-quarters of an hour slipped by before they got her to the mouth of the river. Long before then Gregory realised how right the Robertson brothers had been. Unless they unfurled the sail, it would be impossible to get the heavy craft far enough out to sea before dawn to escape the Russians’ sighting her.

  For another hour they laboured on, forcing her gradually up the east coast away from the village; but although the water in the lagoon was relatively calm, owing to the breakers that constantly rolled in, the strain of keeping her heading in the right direction was terrific.

  By then it was getting on for half past two in the morning, and their efforts were clearly slackening. When they had set out, not only had it been at the apex of the dark period of the moon, but by good fortune the sky had been cloudy. Since, it had gradually cleared. A million bright stars now faintly lit the scene and Gregory could easily pick out the Southern Cross.

  As this increase of light gradually came about, he had become ever more reluctant to risk drawing attention to the canoe by setting her sail. But now he and his companions were clearly near exhaustion and the canoe was barely making steerage way. Grimly he decided that their only hope of
getting out of the lagoon before dawn lay in making use of the sail.

  When he consulted James and the Robertson brothers they all agreed that unless the risk was taken they would either be recaptured or killed by machine-gun fire; so Gregory told Woggy and Punch to ship their paddles and free the sail from its lashings.

  A light breeze at once caught the great spread of tapa cloth. James set a course for an opening in the reef and, from having moved at a crawl, the long canoe suddenly leapt forward. As they relaxed, all on board listened with heartfelt delight to the rushing of the water alongside. James tacked once, twice, thrice, then there came a faint shout from the shore.

  Within seconds a Sten gun began to stutter. Next minute the searchlight came on, swept to and fro, then fixed them in its beam. A heavy machine gun came into play. The occupants of the canoe ducked down behind her gunwale and crouched there, fearful that any moment would be their last. Bullets thudded into the hull of the canoe and ripped through the sail. But James, courageously plying his steering paddle, swung her round on a new tack. For a brief interval they were out of the line of fire, then the bullets came again, several smacking into the mast. The canoe had heeled right over, spray ran in sheets from the prow and she was now racing at twenty knots for the gap in the reef.

  Two minutes later they were through it and shortly afterwards the machine gun ceased its murderous chatter. Sitting up, Gregory cried triumphantly, ‘We’ve done it, chaps! No need to worry any more. They have no boats, so can’t pursue us.’

  Steered by James, the big canoe rode the seas splendidly. Having studied the stars for a few moment, he set a course for the Fijis. The Australians would have preferred to make in the other direction—for the Loyalties—but Gregory having enabled them to escape from an indefinite captivity, they good-humouredly accepted his decision. When dawn came Yuloga was only a smudge on the horizon.

  For some thirty hours, against a contrary breeze, they beat to eastward. Then a storm blew up. It was far from threatening a hurricane, but the gusts were powerful. Just before ten o’clock, without a moment’s warning, disaster overtook them. There came a sudden squall, accompanied by driving rain, and the mast snapped off a few feet above the gunwale. The upper part of the mast, the yard and the great sail heeled over and came down with a splash in the sea. The canoe lurched sideways and came to a stop, tilted over at a dangerous angle.

  Frantically, with two axes that had been left in the canoe by the natives, they hacked through the liana cords that held the mast and sail trailing alongside. Ten minutes later they had cut the canoe clear, and she righted herself. But they looked at one another in consternation. They had nothing they could rig as a jury mast and no spare tapa to make even a jib mounted on paddles, so were now at the mercy of the ocean.

  They were, for the time at least, in no danger from thirst or starvation, as, while the Melanesians were repairing the sail, Willy and Frank had stored several dozen fresh coconuts and hands of bananas in the fore and aft parts of the canoe. But, the wind and tide being against them, they now began to drift rapidly back in a westerly direction.

  On examining the stump of the mast, the reason for their calamity became clear. It had been hit by four bullets from the Russians’ machine gun, so was weakened to such an extent that, when carrying a big sail, any strong gust of wind would have been enough to snap it off.

  For twenty-four hours they were swept back, more or less in the direction of Yuloga, but had fair reason to suppose that they would be carried past it. Then, shortly before midday on the third day after their escape, they sighted a small vessel steaming towards them. As she came nearer, they saw that she was a frigate, flying in her stern the Tricolor.

  Gregory and James were both extremely loath to go aboard a French warship, but beggars could not be choosers. Hailed with relief by the others in the canoe, the frigate hove to alongside and took them all aboard.

  While the frigate was approaching, Gregory fabricated an account of themselves which they must all adhere to, so as to conceal the danger of the French possibly returning them to Yuloga. It was that he and James had been passengers on the Robertsons’ schooner when she had been wrecked, then they had all got ashore on a desert island and found the canoe abandoned there. When they told this story to the Captain of the frigate Gregory and James had good reason to be thankful that while in prison they had retained their aliases—George Simonds and Johnny Olourna—and all the more so when they learned that, having been on a cruise, the frigate was returning to Noumea.

  Two days later she put into port. The rescued crew of the canoe were paraded before the Immigration Authorities and duly interrogated. The Robertsons were known there, so they and their crew boys, Woggy and Punch, were passed through, with condolences on the loss of their schooner. Gregory and James were more closely questioned, but their story that they were British subjects from Fiji was accepted.

  Greatly relieved, they were about to leave the office when into it walked the brown-faced gendarme belonging to the harbour duty squad, who had bade them bon soir shortly before they had stolen the launch. As they were standing side by side he recognised them immediately, and cried:

  ‘I arrest these two men. They are the ones sought in connection with the affair at the Hotel Château Royal.’

  11

  Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire

  It was a shattering blow. They had escaped from Noumea on the night of February 17th and it was now Monday, April 18th. For eight weeks and four days they had been subjected to constant anxiety about their future, and either imprisonment, ‘with its accompanying hardships, or the danger of losing their lives. And all for nothing. Here they were back again where they had started; they might just as well have given themselves up two months earlier. Into Gregory’s mind flashed the awful question—Was de Carvalho dead or alive? For if he was dead James would go to the guillotine.

  The Robertsons were still standing nearby. Their surprise overcome. Joyalty to comrades with whom they had shared great perils came uppermost in their minds. In atrocious French Willy cried belligerently:

  ‘Hi, what’s all this? Must be some mistake. Mr. Simonds and Johnny Olourna are as straight as any men I’ve ever met. They can’t be criminals.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Frank backed him up. ‘You’re on to the wrong men for sure.’

  A white Sergeant had joined the coffee-coloured gendarme. Now he said abruptly, ‘I cannot think there is a mistake. My man here saw the fugitives on the dockside under a strong light just before they made their getaway in a launch they stole. Anyhow, I’m taking his word for it. And their names are not Simonds and Olourna but Sallust and Omboloku. This is none of your business, so you had better keep out of it.’

  Gregory raised a smile for the brothers. ‘He’s right about our names. No use denying it. But we haven’t done anything to be ashamed of. I’m only sorry that we should have to part like this when we’d been looking forward to celebrating with you.’

  ‘I’m sorry, too.’ Willy shook his head. ‘Still, if there is anything we can do to help, let us know. We’ll be staying at a little pub called the Maritime until we can collect the insurance on our schooner and buy another.’

  When he had thanked them and the brothers turned away, Gregory, acutely anxious to learn if de Carvalho was alive or dead, asked the Sergeant with what they were to be charged.

  The Sergeant, a surly man with a walrus moustache, replied, ‘You’ll learn that when we get to Headquarters.’ Then, tapping his pistol holster significantly, as an indication that he would use his weapon should the prisoners attempt to escape, he told the gendarme to lead them away, and followed a few paces in the rear.

  As they walked along the wharf, Gregory was thinking bitterly of the plan that he and James had made soon after the Captain of the frigate had told them they were to be landed at Noumea. They had counted on the hue and cry for them having, after more than two months, long since died down. James was to have taken a room under his assumed name
at some small inn and pretended illness so that he could remain there while Gregory used some of his dollars to arrange for them to be smuggled out on a ship leaving for Australia or New Zealand, from either of which they could fly back to Fiji. Even if it took him several days to find a ship he had thought that, provided they did not go into the better part of Noumea, the chances against their being recognised were a hundred to one; yet they had hardly stepped ashore when they had had the extraordinary ill-fortune to come face to face with the one gendarme who could identify them.

  At Police Headquarters, despite Gregory’s protestations, they were locked into separate cells, still with no charge being made against them; and the suspense of being left in ignorance was well-nigh intolerable. Until he knew the worst they had to face, he was at a loss to formulate a line of policy. He could only take a little comfort from the thought that here in Noumea French law would ensure James a fair trial, and that he himself had the means to employ the best Counsel available to defend his friend.

  About himself he was not particularly worried. Although he might be censured for not having prevented James from throwing de Carvalho from the balcony and, as James’ partner, be thought to have tacitly condoned the act, it could certainly not be proved that he had inspired the deed or played any active part in it.

  He would, of course, be charged with stealing the launch, but, as with so many hazards in life, money counted. Very rich men do not steal launches, although they may, in certain circumstances, borrow them without permission. His defence would be that he had done so, intending to return the launch from Fiji with handsome compensation to her owner for having been temporarily deprived of her. As she had been wrecked, he would, naturally, offer to pay her full value in addition; so he thought it as good as certain that he would be let off with a fine.