The White Witch of the South Seas

by Dennis Wheatley

  The future, then, held the awful prospect of imprisonment for an indefinite period—certainly for many months, perhaps for several years—with no hope of a reduction of sentence or reprieve. Perhaps even worse. On finding that no fewer than six of their prisoners had escaped and got clean away from the island, the Russians must have been furious. Now that two of those escapers were being returned to them they might well take strong measures.

  Gregory suddenly had an awful vision of himself and James tied to stakes in the courtyard of the prison while a firing squad lined up to shoot them—just as an example to the other prisoners of what might happen to them should they give any trouble. The Russians were a law unto themselves. No-one could call them to account for such an execution or, the odds were, would even hear about it. If Ribaud chanced to do so he would probably consider Gregory fortunate not to have met such a fate much earlier in life, drink an extra glass of cognac after dinner to the memory of an ace secret agent, then forget the incident.

  All these thoughts rushed through Gregory’s mind in a matter of seconds. Looking down again, he saw that they had passed over the rocket-launching site and that the aircraft was slowly circling to come down in another valley in which rows of lights showed there to be an airstrip. The fact that they were on was a clear indication that Ribaud had sent a signal to the Russian Commandant, telling him to expect the aircraft.

  Gregory knew that there was only one thing for it. James, beside him, and the Major, in front of him, were still dozing. With his right elbow he gave James a fierce dig in the ribs. Throwing himself forward he flung his left arm round the Major’s neck and jerked his head violently backwards. At the same moment his right hand descended on the pistol holster at the officer’s side, wrenched it open and grasped the weapon.

  Within seconds of Gregory’s first move, entirely unaware of what he was about to do, the pilot cried, ‘We’ll be landing in a few minutes. Fasten your safety belts.’

  At the unexpected sound of threshing limbs beside him, he turned. By then Gregory had pulled the pistol from the holster, struck the Major a sharp blow on the side of the head with the butt and had the weapon pointing at the pilot.

  ‘Up!’ he snapped. ‘Up, or I’ll put a bullet through your head! We are not landing, and if you won’t fly this plane I will.’

  The aircraft was down to a thousand feet. The pilot, his eyes staring, did as he was bade and pulled back his joystick, but at so sharp an angle that the aircraft shot up as though about to loop the loop. The manœuvre came near to giving back the mastery of the situation to Ribaud’s men. Gregory and James, who had half risen, were flung violently back into their seats, and the gun was jerked from Gregory’s hand. But, as he had already knocked the Major unconscious, the odds remained two to one against the pilot.

  Grimly endeavouring to carry out his mission, the pilot brought the aircraft down again in a steep dive.

  ‘Half choke him!’ Gregory cried urgently, and as he stooped to grope about the floor for the pistol, James’s great hands closed round the pilot’s neck from behind. As the pressure increased, he let go of the controls and began to claw frantically at James’s fingers. Still the aircraft descended.

  At that angle Gregory could see ahead out of the forward window. The plane was plunging straight to earth. The flares on the runway seemed to be leaping up to meet them. Forcing his head and shoulders between the unconscious Major and the pilot, he grabbed the joystick and pulled it back. The aircraft shot up again at such a steep angle that he feared it must stall. But it was now flying at an altitude of no more than five hundred feet. Then, to his horror, he saw that it was hurtling direct at a rocky peak that rose up from the centre of the island.

  By then the pilot, half strangled, had had enough. His eyes starting from his head, he stopped clawing ineffectually at James’ hands and let his own fall, then rammed down his left foot on the rudder bar. The plane banked steeply.

  At that moment the stunned Major came round. Unaware of the acute danger, he gave a groan, turned sideways in his seat and grabbed Gregory by the shoulders, wrenching him away from the controls. James let go of the pilot’s neck to come to Gregory’s assistance. The back of his fist smashed into the side of the Major’s face. With another groan, he fell back in his seat. The pilot gasped in breath, then, panting wildly, seized the joystick. The plane zoomed up. It was touch and go. They missed the side of the rocky peak by no more than twenty feet.

  Seeing that for the moment disaster had been averted and that the pilot had come to heel, Gregory again groped on the floor until his hand closed on the pistol. Picking it up, he jabbed the barrel into the pilot’s ribs and snarled, ‘Now, damn you! Do as I tell you or I’ll put a bullet through your guts. Take her up to two thousand and head due east.’

  The man had no more fight left in him. Rapidly the aircraft gained height, banked again and came round on the given course. A few minutes later the island of Yuloga was fading away into the night behind them.

  Blood was trickling from the side of the Major’s mouth where James had struck him. His kepi had fallen off and he was sitting hunched up with his head lolling forward, but his eyes were open, showing that he was still conscious. To make certain that he would give no further trouble, Gregory handed the pistol to James, then, with his left hand, grabbed the man by the hair, pulling his head back, and with his right undid his tie. Thrusting him forward again he pulled his arms behind his back and used the tie to secure his wrists firmly together.

  Turning to the pilot, Gregory said, ‘You will now fly us to Tujoa.’

  ‘Fly her yourself,’ the man replied truculently. ‘I’m not going to risk facing a court martial for having helped two dangerous criminals to escape from justice.’

  Gregory had many times parachuted from an aircraft and knew a considerable amount about them, but; in spite of what he had implied when first threatening the pilot, he was not a trained airman; so he snapped back, ‘I could fly her, but I’d probably crash her on landing. Like it or not, unless you want to risk being burned to a cinder, you’ll do the job for us. You’ve got your orders and you’ll bring us down at Tujoa.’

  The pilot gave a harsh laugh. ‘Like hell I will! I haven’t enough petrol to get her half that distance.’

  ‘You’re lying. Tujoa is quite a bit closer to Yuloga than Yuloga is to Noumea, and you would have had to make the return hop.’

  ‘That’s so, but I would have taken on fuel at Yuloga.’

  Gregory swore under his breath. The petrol gauge told him nothing, because he did not know if the pilot was already using the reserve tank or if it was still full. He might be bluffing. On the other hand, if he was telling the truth this was a really nasty one.

  After a moment’s thought Gregory said, ‘The ocean in these parts is peppered with small islands. You are to keep going for Tujoa as long as you can. If you do find the petrol getting low you are to bring us down on the nearest island. But I’d like you to be clear about one thing. Should you do that and when we have landed I find that there is more than one gallon of petrol in the tank I’ll blow your brains out.’

  ‘If you’d ever tried to land an aircarft on a coral atoll you’d not be such a fool as to ask me to,’ the pilot replied in a surly voice. ‘She’d rip her bottom to pieces and we’d end up like strawberry jam.’

  ‘Then bring her down in a lagoon, or near enough for us to swim ashore.’

  ‘You’re crazy. Force me to do that and we’ll either drown or the sharks will get us. I know you’ll be clapped into jail if we land at Yuloga, but surely that’s better than killing yourself and us as well? For God’s sake let me turn back to Yuloga.’

  It was a terrible decision to have to take; but knowing the Russians were not given to showing mercy to escaped prisoners who were recaptured, Gregory thought it more likely that if he and James did land at Yuloga they would be shot out of hand. Again he remained silent for a few moments, then he said:

  ‘No I prefer to risk the sharks and a
chance of freedom to the certainty of prison and the possibility of having to face a firing squad. Just let me know when the petrol looks like running out and I’ll tell you what to do. Given a little luck we may be near a fair-sized island with a beach that we could land on.’

  His decision was followed by a period of agonising suspense. Now and then they flew within sight of islands, but they were further apart than Gregory had expected, and nearly all were composed of cruel coral reefs, against which the surf was breaking in great swathes of white foam. Only two were large enough to have risked a landing, but even on them groups of palm trees would have made an attempt to land highly dangerous. Leaning forward across the semi-conscious Major, Gregory kept his eyes fixed on the petrol gauge with steadily mounting anxiety.

  After twenty minutes it showed the tank to be nearly empty. As another patch of white waves crashing on land came into sight ahead, he grimly made up his mind that they must now risk their necks by coming down in it. Gruffly he said to the pilot:

  ‘Down you go. I’m sorry that I’ve let you in for this. But if you can manage to save our necks and we can get back to civilisation you’ll not regret it. As I happen to be a rich man, I’ll give you a year’s pay. Now, circle that island, then do your best for us all.’

  The pilot gave a harsh laugh. ‘Thanks for the offer, but you’d never live to pay up or I to receive the money. We’re not going down. You win, damn you!’

  As he spoke, he leaned forward and pressed a switch. The needle of the petrol gauge began to lift. The reserve tank had been full and he had switched it on.

  James gave a great sigh and laid a hand on Gregory’s back. ‘That was the worst twenty minutes I’ve ever lived through. But thank God you called his bluff. After the way we made fools of those Russians I’d have bet any money they would have shot us.’

  While the aircraft droned on through the night they were now able to relax and savour to the full aa d wonderful relief at not having had to crash-land among the great waves pounding on what, as they passed over it, they saw to be no more than a crescent of barren rocks.

  When they sighted Tujoa the sky was lightening in the east. Except for a once-weekly service and an occasional private plane no aircraft came down on the island, so it had no more than an airstrip, and that was manned only when information had been received that a plane was to be expected. But James was able to direct the pilot and by that time, with the suddenness usual in the tropics, full dawn had come. Having circled over the airstrip twice, the pilot made a good landing.

  Pleased as Gregory was to have reached Tujoa, he needed no telling that he and James were as yet far from out of the wood; for the Tujoa group was French territory and they were wanted by the French authorities. Having double-crossed them, Ribaud must realise that Gregory would no longer feel bound to keep his promise to remain silent about the Russian rockets on Yuloga; so, as soon as he learned that they had escaped, he would do his utmost to have them rearrested. There was also the question of what was to be done with the Major and the pilot. In no circumstances should they be given a chance to communicate with the French Resident or his gendarmerie, otherwise the fat would be in the fire right away.

  Keeping the two Frenchmen covered with the pistol, Gregory looked quickly about him. At the far end of the airstrip there were a small one-storey building and two medium-sized hangars. Turning to James he asked:

  ‘Are those hangars likely to be occupied?’

  James shook his fuzzy head. ‘I doubt it. No-one on the island owns an aircraft. They are used only by visitors who come here in private planes, and that doesn’t happen often. I take it you are thinking of hiding the aircraft?’

  ‘That’s it. You go and open one of them up; or, rather, both of them, if both are empty.’

  Squeezing past the Major, James jumped down and ran along to the hangar. As soon as he had it open, Gregory made the pilot taxi the aircraft into it. Ordering the two Frenchmen out, he got out himself, then made them walk in front of him into the other hangar, where he told James to free the Major’s wrists.

  ‘Now,’ he said, ‘I fear that for a day or two you will have to suffer some discomfort. I’ll treat you no worse than I have to; but until I have made certain arrangements you must remain prisoners. What are your names?’

  The Major, who had remained sullenly silent ever since James had knocked him half senseless, now burst into a furious spate of words. Cursing Gregory and James for a pair of villainous crooks, he went on to say that if they thought they had got away they had better think again. The fact that the aircraft had not landed the prisoners on Yuloga would have been reported to General Ribaud. By now the General would have sent a signal to the Resident on Tujoa and as soon as they showed their faces they would be arrested. Then he flatly refused to give his name or co-operate in any way.

  ‘You may be right, but not necessarily,’ Gregory replied. ‘The General cannot know that we overpowered you. Even if he suspects it, we might have doubled back to the Loyalties, or made for any one of a dozen uninhabited islands. But he will probably believe that the plane got out of control, came down in the sea and that we were all drowned. As to your name, I expect you have papers on you which will give it to me. About that we will soon know, for you are now going to strip. Get your clothes off.’

  Indignantly the officer refused; whereupon Gregory turned to James, who was standing in the doorway of the hangar, and said, ‘Would you oblige me by persuading this fellow to do as he is told.’

  With a grin, the huge James advanced on the Major. Sudden fear showed in his eyes. Putting up one hand as though to fend James off, he began to unbutton his tunic. Two minutes later, with a hangdog expression he was standing there naked.

  ‘Now you,’ Gregory said to the pilot. Realising that it was futile to refuse, he, too, stripped to the buff. Meanwhile James had been going through the Major’s pockets. In one there were a couple of letters and he read out from an envelope, ‘Comandante Andorache Fournier.’ He then picked up the pilot’s jacket, fished a pocketbook from it and announced, ‘Lieutenant Jules Joubert.’

  Gregory smiled and said, ‘Messieurs Fournier and Joubert, I am happy to think that, in this delightful climate, being deprived of your clothes for a while will cause you no inconvenience, apart, perhaps, from a few mosquito bites. We will now leave you to contemplate the eternal verities; or, if you prefer, how extremely displeased with you General Ribaud will be when you try to explain to him how it came about that you failed to carry out his orders.’

  James collected the clothes, carried them into the other hangar and dumped them in the aircraft, then locked the doors of both hangars. As they turned away, Gregory said, ‘Naked and without shoes, I don’t think there is much chance of their breaking out; but we daren’t leave them there for long, in case someone comes out here and finds them. Do you know of a place where we could hide them safely for a few days?’

  After a moment’s thought, James replied, ‘There are some caves a few miles away up in the hills. No-one would come upon them there, and some of my men could be relied on to guard them.’

  ‘Good. I’m afraid, though, that Fournier was right. The erratic flight of the aircraft over Yuloga will have suggested to the Russians that a fight was taking place on board. Ribaud will be informed of that, and he is no fool. He is almost certain to assume that if we did get control of the plane we would make for your own island. Probably the best chance of keeping our freedom would be for us to retire to those caves ourselves, anyway for the time being.’

  ‘Oh, we certainly need not do that.’ James’ voice had taken on a new note of authority. ‘Commandant Elbœuf, the Resident, is a spineless old creature and there are no troops stationed on the island, only a Sergeant and six gendarmes. My people would never allow them to arrest us and the police would not dare force the issue. My bure is only about a mile away, on this side of the town. We will go there first and I’ll send a reliable man down to find out if anything unusual is happening at the ge
ndarmes’ barracks. But I’m still in the dark about much that has been going on. What exactly did take place between you and General Ribaud?’

  ‘Of course you are.’ Gregory smiled. ‘I had no chance to tell you while we were in prison, and I couldn’t talk about it while we were in the plane with those two Frenchmen.’ As they walked quickly along an upward-sloping dirt road through the jungle, Gregory then related to James how he had blackmailed Ribaud and what had come of it. When he had done he added:

  ‘I ought to have foreseen that, although we were old friends, he might consider it his duty to trick me, and he darned near did. Unfortunately, too, we are far from having finished with him yet. Once he knows for certain that we are here he can fly troops in to get us. Even if we refuelled the aircraft, and forced Joubert to fly us on to Fiji, we’d still not be in the clear. There is a charge of attempted murder pending against you and he could apply for a warrant of extradition. You could go into hiding for a while, but not indefinitely; because to do so would mean your having to abandon everything. To do that would ruin your whole life; so, somehow or other, we’ve got to do a deal with him.’

  ‘I don’t see how we can,’ James said gloomily.

  ‘Neither do I at the moment. And the devil of it is we have precious little time to think in. The signal from Yuloga will be to the effect, “Aircraft failed to land, appeared to be out of control,” so apparently only a mechanical fault, and Ribaud’s people wouldn’t wake him up in the middle of the night to give him a message of that kind. But it will be on his desk this morning; so at any time from nine o’clock on we can expect the sparks to fly.’

  By this time they had mounted the rise and emerged from the jungle. Ahead of them, in a broad, open space, stood an exceptionally large and lofty bure with round about it a number of smaller ones. As they approached, a man appeared in the open doorway of the big bure. On seeing James, he gave a cry of delight, fell on his knees and bowed his head. His master greeted him kindly but, instead of moving for them to enter, he remained kneeling there. James turned aside, smiled at Gregory and said: