‘It is a lot of money. And you are in no great danger, so you are really paying it out to save me. I must try to pay you back later on.’
‘You’ll do nothing of the sort,’ Gregory replied sharply. ‘It is my good fortune that my splendid old patron looked on me as a son and left me the greater part of his millions. The greatest pleasure money can bring is to be able to give help and pleasure to those one loves. And, dear James, I’ve become quite fond of you. In fact, I’d have liked to have you for a son. But for God’s sake don’t count on this. Ribaud is as clever as I am. Perhaps cleverer. He may pull a fast one on us yet. To know where we stand we’ll have to wait until maybe nearly six o’clock.’
Pausing for a moment, Gregory yawned, then he went on, ‘We must get those two telegrams off at once, and hope that the one to Ribaud will reach him before he has committed himself in any way—such as sending a signal to your Resident here to have us arrested. Now I’m for bed. The past twelve hours would have proved a pretty severe strain on any chap of my age. And I’m no exception.’
James shook his head. ‘I’m sorry; terribly sorry. But I must ask you to stick it out for another few hours. Now that I have returned to Tujoa, I cannot possibly avoid the official ceremony of welcome. It is timed for eleven o’clock. My Council of Elders will assemble in our Meeting House to renew their homage. The fact that you have arrived here with me as my guest cannot possibly be disguised. They will wish to welcome you, too, and to refuse their formal welcome would be looked on as terribly discourteous. Please Father, if I may call you so, do not refuse me in this.’
Gregory smiled wryly. ‘To have to stay up when they want to go to bed is the sort of price Princes must pay for being Princes. Of course I understand, my son. And I am entirely at your disposal. I’ll go to my room now, and anyhow snatch an hour or two of sleep. Have me called a quarter of an hour before we have to start, and I shall be honoured to attend you.’
At a quarter to eleven Gregory rejoined James in the main bure. The young Ratu was now wearing his ceremonial robes. Except for a collar of thin ivory tusks, he was naked to the waist, round which was bound an elaborately-patterned sash of tapa cloth. Over his sulu there were concertina-like strips of brightly-coloured material, from his upper arms there hung a long cloak, and round his ankles there were fringes of coconut fibre; his feet were bare.
Gregory was congratulating him on his striking appearance when another man joined them. He was about thirty, as tall as James, with a splendid figure and noble features. When he had made his obeisance James introduced them. ‘This is Aleamotu’a, my friend and herald; and this is Mr. Sallust, with whom my heart is one, for he has brought me safely through many perils.’
From that of a subservient courtier, Aleamotu’a’s manner changed at once to that of an equal. Smiling, he shook Gregory firmly by the hand and said in excellent English, ‘I am happy to meet you, Mr. Sallust. That you have served my Prince so well places every Nakapoan in your debt. And should the occasion arise I claim the right to be the first to honour that obligation.’
Gregory returned his smile. The Ratu makes too much of what I have done, and he omits to tell you that he has twice saved my life; so it is I who am the debtor.’
Leaving the bure, they walked down through the garden until they reached another plateau situated just above the town. In the centre stood the Meeting House, a large, open-sided, palm-thatched building. On both sides of the approach to it several hundred Tujoans were seated: the men in front, the women behind, all completely silent. Holding himself very erect and with a firm step, James strode forward, his hands clasped behind his back. Gregory and Aleamotu’a dropped to the rear. As though at a given signal the whole crowd suddenly gave voice, beginning with a low murmur and rising to a fierce, tremendous shout. It was the tama greeting, given only as a sign of allegiance to Paramount Chiefs.
Inside the Meeting House the Council of Elders were seated cross-legged round the walls. At the far end two chairs had been placed for James and Gregory. When they entered the house the Elders broke into a low chant of welcome; then, as the newcomers took their seats, silence fell and the men who were to play the principal parts in the ceremony came forward to make obeisance.
The ceremony began with the presentation of three whale teeth, each by a different official, who made a short speech. On accepting the teeth, James handed them to Aleamotu’a, who was standing beside him. There followed the preparations for the age-old communion rite. This was the same as that which Gregory had witnessed while staying with Manon on her island, but more elaborate. The tapa mats that carpeted the floor were removed from a space in front of the Ratu and in the clearing the tanoa bowl—with its attached string of cowrie shells—in which the yaggona drink was to be mixed, set down. In the bowl was already heaped the powdered root and on it lay a bundle of hibiscus fibre for straining the liquid. Behind the man who was to mix the drink crouched a row of others, clad in grass skirts and with blackened faces, who were to act as cup-bearers. Two warriors then appeared, carrying over their shoulders long, thick tubes of bamboo. At a sign from the yaggona-maker they removed plugs from the top of the bamboos, tipped them up and poured into the bowl two streams of clear water. With intense concentration the mixer went to work, dipping and raising his hands rhythmically. There came a single wailing cry, then all the Elders joined in a melancholy chant punctuated by perfectly timed hand-clapping.
Impressed as Gregory was with the solemnity of the ritual, half his mind was given to wondering how Ribaud would react to the ‘Dantés’ telegram. Yet as he glanced about him he felt sure that no-one else present was giving a single thought to anything other than the mystic yaggona mixing.
Despite the danger in which James still stood, it appeared quite certain that he was not. With grave attention his gaze was fixed on the bowl and his handsome face had taken on a spiritual quality. Clearly he was completely at peace, his body unmoving but relaxed, his mind elevated above all mundane matters. The Elders too, intensely dignified, although many of them were wearing worn European jackets only partially hidden by the leis of sweet-scented leaves round their necks, sat utterly still, their eyes riveted on the preparation of the sacred brew.
At length the mixing was completed. The bundle of hibiscus fibre was thrown aside, the chanting stopped, a silence fell, unbroken even by the rustle of a grass skirt. The premier cup-bearer came forward and received with both hands the first coconut half-shell of yaggona. Approaching the Ratu, he held the cup with arms fully extended and lowered his body until his knees were doubled under him. The low chant began again. The man poured the drink into James’ own beautifully ornamented cup, then squatted before him. Lifting the cup, James drained it in one gulp, then threw it back towards the yaggona bowl. ‘Matha! Matha!’ shouted the assembly, clapping their cupped hands three times in rhythm.
The Ratu was offered, and accepted, a second cup. James received his portion next, then Aleamotu’a and afterwards, in order of rank, everyone else in the assembly. As each draught went down, everyone clapped three times, then the drinker clapped three times in response.
The atmosphere of tension continued until the last cupful had been drained, then a change took place. Everyone continued to behave with decorum, but became at ease as, with obvious appreciation of good things to come, they watched the food for the feast being carried in. There were roast sucking pigs, yams and breadfruit, two turtles and scores of chickens, baskets of mangoes, pawpaws, big tangerines and other fruit. A wizened Elder made a speech apologising for the poorness of the fare, to which Aleamotu’a replied on the Ratu’s behalf praising its quality and abundance.
It would have been against protocol for the Ratu to remain. A generous portion of the best food was set aside to be taken up to his bure. Walking slowly and with great dignity between the rows of kneeling Elders, he took his departure, followed by Gregory and Aleamotu’a.
The ceremony had lasted just over an hour; so when they came out from the shade of the Me
eting House the midday sun blazed down upon them from almost directly overhead. Reluctantly Gregory faced the stiff walk uphill back to the bure, and before he had taken fifty paces he had broken out into a sweat. Glancing over his shoulder to speak to him James noticed it, halted and spoke to two big warriors who were kneeling respectfully beside the path until he had passed. They came grinning to their feet and advanced on Gregory as James said to him:
‘My poor friend, you are not conditioned to exert yourself in this heat. These two men will carry you.’
‘No; no!’ Gregory protested. ‘Although I may look on the thin side, I weigh a good twelve stone.’
‘Don’t worry,’ came the airy reply. ‘Some of our Nakapoan beauties weigh nearly as much as that, and they are always carried from the boats to the shore. These men will take it in turns and find it no hardship. Later they will beat their broad chests and tell their families with pride how they were given the honour of carrying their Ratu’s friend up to the bure.’
Feeling rather a fool, Gregory submitted to being picked up like a baby, but he was relieved at not having to trudge up the steep hill. When he had been safely deposited at the top, both men, without a trace of shyness, extended hands for him to shake, then gave him friendly pats on the shoulder.
Back in his room he stripped, then decided that in such surroundings there was, after all, something to be said for a shower. Stepping into the bath, he turned on the spray above it and allowed the needles of cold water to reinvigorate his tired limbs. Nevertheless, within ten minutes of his having dried himself and lain down on his bed, he was fast asleep.
At five o’clock he was still sound asleep when James came in. The dignified calm that the young Ratu had shown earlier in the day had now deserted him. With unconcealed anxiety he said:
‘I have just been informed that the Resident intends to call on me here at six o’clock. Do you think that means that he has received an order to have me arrested?’
Gregory yawned and knuckled the sleep from his eyes. ‘It is quite possible. But you told me this morning that your people would not let you be arrested. Has nothing come in from Ribaud?’
‘No. I sent orders to the telegraph operator that should any communication come in for Dantés it should be sent up to me immediately by runner. But no message has so far arrived. It looks as though Ribaud has decided to ignore your threat and do his best to get us.’
‘It’s early yet to be sure of that. As you have been away for two months, the Resident may be coming to see you on some other matter. Anyhow, if he does cut up rough, you can tell him to go to hell. Before troops can be flown in and deployed we should still have plenty of time to get out to another island.’
Reluctantly Gregory got up and dressed. James took him out to the swimming pool and fortified him with a long drink of well-iced passion-fruit juice laced with rum. Then they awaited with considerable anxiety the arrival of the Resident.
A little after six o’clock they caught the sound of the labouring engine of an evidently elderly car coming up the steep drive. Five minutes later Kalabo led Commandant El-bœuf round from the front of the bure. He was a small man, bronzed from living for many years in the tropics. His hair was white, he had a drooping, grey moustache and in his right hand held a thick stick, upon which he leaned heavily as he advanced towards them.
Appropriate greetings followed. The Commandant was happy to accept a neat cognac—in a tumbler, he suggested, because one could better appreciate the bouquet. When he had been furnished with a triple ration they settled down to talk—not of any serious matters, but whether James had enjoyed his visit to Noumea, of the price of copra, of the prospects of the yam crop, and of the weather.
At length, with apparent casualness, the elderly Frenchman asked, ‘Tell me, Ratu. In accordance with ancient custom, you are permitted to retain a private body-guard of fifty warriors. In the event of serious trouble here you are under obligation to order them to support my small force of gendarmes. But say it was simply a matter of enforcing law and order, so that the administration of justice could be carried out in peaceful conditions, would you be prepared to use them in that way or, if the matter in question was against your interests, order them to ignore the obligation to assist my men?’
This, thought Gregory, is it; for he took the question really to mean—should an attempt be made to arrest James, would he submit and order his body-guard to quell a rising of the townsfolk to protect their Ratu, or use his men to defy the gendarmes? Although James’ spy in the telegraph office had failed to inform them of it, a signal must have come in. Possibly it had been graded ‘Top Secret and Personal to the Resident’. Anyway, it looked as though, whatever the risk to himself, Ribaud meant to get them if he could.
James evidently thought the same, for he replied with caution, ‘Commandant, it all depends on the circumstances in which you requested the assistance of my warriors. Perhaps you would enlighten me further by putting a hypothetical case.’
At that moment Kalabo arrived at James’ elbow with a buff envelope on a salver. With a murmured ‘Excuse me, please’, the Ratu tore the envelope open, read the flimsy it contained, then passed it to Gregory. The telegram was addressed to Dantés and read:
Replacements on way. Request return compatriots earliest. For security reasons instruct communicate with no-one and report direct to me. Grateful for execution of promise. Regard transaction as completed. Unnecessary inform Lorraine. Ribaud.
Gregory smiled across at James. After all, the shrewd Ribaud had decided to accept the handsome bribe rather than risk an ignominious end to his career. They had won, and had no more to fear from James’ brainstorm act of having thrown de Carvalho out of the window.
The Commandant remarked, ‘Good news, I see,’ then went on, ‘This is no hypothetical case, but trouble that we have been faced with during your absence, Ratu, which may occur again. It concerns the gold that is said to lie in the wrecked Reina Maria Amalia. Ten or twelve days ago a party of ex-Colons from Algeria arrived here, in an old tub named the Pigalle. They were headed by a man named Pierre Lacost. Ahead of them they had sent a professional diver, who had been here for several weeks and brought with him salvaging apparatus, so it was clear to me that they intended to attempt to get the gold up from the wreck.’
Under his heavy eyelids the Commandant gave a swift glance at James:
‘As I informed you, Ratu, when you were here towards the end of January, for a salvaging operation a licence is required. Long before Lacost arrived here I had been notified by my superiors in Noumea that such a licence had been granted to the Brazilian millionaire Mauá de Carvalho. I therefore went out in my launch to the wreck and ordered Lacost to take his apparatus back to harbour.
‘He proved extremely truculent. He and his companions were armed and they defied me. Naturally, I was loath to expose my gendarmes to a gun battle. But the following day he did bring his gear back to harbour. Apparently his visit to the wreck had been only for his professional diver to carry out a reconnaissance. As I understand it, one man could not possibly remove the heavy beams in the wreck that obstruct the passage leading to the place where the treasure is believed to be. Lacost had counted on the assistance of a dozen local Tujoa divers for this, but they all refused their services. Why, I do not know; but without such help he was forced to suspend his operations. Even so, he and his friends continued to linger on here, hoping, I suppose, to persuade our divers to change their minds.
‘Soon after Lacost’s arrival de Carvalho turned up here in his yacht. He brought no salvaging equipment, but he also had with him a professional deep-sea diver. They went out twice to the site of the wreck, then, for some reason unknown, sailed away again. By then Lacost seems to have abandoned any hope of securing divers here and also sailed away, but he left his salvaging equipment.
‘Now, Ratu, this is what I wish to know. I am told that when Lacost left he intended to go to Fiji. It seems probable to me that his object is to collect divers there and
bring them here. Should he succeed and, with them, defy my authority as an administrator of the law to protect the rights assigned to de Carvalho by the French Government, would you be willing to order your body-guard to support my gendarmes in, if necessary, using weapons to drive off these Colons? I ask this because I am aware of your own interest in the treasure, and, forgive me, but it had occurred to me that, as you failed to secure a licence, you might be employing Lacost to get the treasure for you.’
Gregory and James had difficulty in keeping straight faces. It was a most amusing twist in events that with legal backing they should be asked to prevent their most dangerous rival from getting at the treasure by openly attacking him.
James bowed gravely to the Commandant. ‘Monsieur, you may rely on my full co-operation should a situation such as you fear come about. I would be happy to lead my warriors in person to prevent this man Lacost from illegally getting away with the gold. And now, please, permit your glass to be refreshed a little.’
With barely-concealed eagerness Commandant Elbœuf held out his tumbler to the attendant Kalabo. It was returned to him nearly full. Sipping happily, he said to James, ‘It is a treat to come here, Ratu. Our government is not over-generous to anciens de la première guerre like myself, and even in the islands good French cognac is expensive for those who have ill-lined pockets.’
They talked on for a while until the old man had finished his brandy. A little unsteadily, he was then escorted by Kalabo back to his ancient car. As he disappeared from view, Gregory said to James:
‘Thank God it worked. We have nothing further to fear from Ribaud now. As for old Elbœuf, he did his job none too badly; but if when we start on salvaging the gold he tries to make trouble I don’t think we’ll have much difficulty in dealing with him.’
After a moment he went on, ‘Now about Ribaud’s telegram. An aircraft bringing our belongings can be expected to land here within a few hours, and we don’t want its crew to ask Fournier and Joubert what they are doing in Tujoa; so it would be best to get them off on their way back to Noumea as soon as possible.’
The White Witch of the South Seas Page 24
